Storm Front (Twilight of the Gods Book 1)

by Christopher Nuttall

  Andrew frowned. “They could be spoofing your results.”

  “They could,” Penelope agreed. “We have always had problems gauging the true power of the German economy. However, if it was as good as they claimed, they’d have a much larger moon base and a few hundred additional spacecraft to stake their claims to the asteroids.”

  “True,” Andrew agreed.

  “It's also beside the point,” Knox said. “Is the likelihood of war any stronger than it was two years ago?”

  Maybe that’s why he doesn't like her, Andrew thought. He understands the machines and tactics of war, but not economics.

  “The last set of discussions I had with the Foreign Minister were unenlightening,” the Ambassador said, calmly. “He lodged an official complaint about our meddling in South Africa, I lodged a complaint of my own about German weapons shipments to radical factions in Latin and South America. We had a long argument that boiled down to mutual denials that anything was actually happening.”

  “And so anyone on the ground will vanish, if they get caught,” Andrew said.

  “We do it too,” Hamilton reminded him. “Any German advisor caught in Panama goes straight into a black prison for interrogation, not held for trade.”

  Andrew nodded, ruefully. The threat of mutual destruction - Germany and the United States each had over 10,000 nuclear warheads - had made it impossible for either side to risk seeking a final war to decide the fate of the planet. Instead, Germany had started running weapons and supplies to radical groups in Latin America, while America had supplied Russian, French and South African insurgents with weapons of their own. But German brutality made it impossible for them to end the war on anything other than total victory, while the United States could use a combination of hard and soft power to convince the undecided to support the Americans. Mexico was more peaceful than it had been in years; Panama, the scene of a brutal insurgency, was calming down...

  But the Germans can’t afford to treat anyone as equals, he thought, darkly. They have to exterminate their enemies to win, which makes it impossible for their enemies to surrender.

  Knox looked at Penelope, sharply. “What happens if the German economy does collapse?”

  “It’s hard to be sure,” Penelope said. “I think we’d be looking at something akin to the Great Depression, but probably a great deal worse. The German economy is more integrated than ours was in the thirties.”

  “And then they will go to war,” Knox said, grimly. “Hitler saw war as the solution to Germany’s woes. War will distract their people from their empty bellies.”

  “They’d have to be out of their minds,” Hamilton said. “We have the AMERICA SHIELD, do we not?”

  “The system isn't perfect,” Knox reminded him. “If the Germans throw every last one of their missiles at us in a single volley, will the shield stop them all?”

  “We’d certainly have a better chance of survival than they would,” Hamilton snapped. “What the bombs didn't destroy would be wiped out by their slaves afterwards.”

  “And a full-scale nuclear war might well destroy the entire world,” Penelope said. “Nuclear winter will finish off the survivors.”

  Andrew shook his head in grim horror. “Perhaps they won’t see it that way,” he said. “They may view mutual destruction as a victory, of sorts.”

  The Ambassador held up a hand. “What are their alternatives?”

  “Cut their cloak to suit their cloth,” Penelope said. “They’ll have to make massive - and painful - budget cuts.”

  “Which they can’t, for political reasons,” Knox commented. “They’re committed to trying to keep up with us.”

  Andrew sighed, inwardly. The Germans had been fearsome - and they still were - but they’d also been very good at projecting an illusion that they were stronger than they were. The CIA had yet to recover from taking some of the German claims at face value, back in the sixties, and terrifying Congress into authorising a colossal military build-up. Now, it was the Germans who were struggling to stay in the race...

  Assuming we’re correct, he reminded himself. The buggers have got themselves caught in an elephant trap.

  “Maybe it would be a good time to propose limits to military spending,” the Ambassador said, calmly. “Let them off as lightly as we can.”

  “It was tried, back in the seventies,” Knox said. “We caught them cheating.”

  “Back when it looked as though we would lose Mexico,” Hamilton said. “We faced the same dilemma the Germans are facing now. Do they cut their losses and admit defeat or up the ante?”

  He shrugged. “Our ability to influence their decision-making process is rather limited.”

  “I have to speak to the President,” the Ambassador said. “Do we try to take advantage of their problems or do we commit ourselves to doing nothing?”

  “Unless the Germans become more reasonable, we can’t really do much more than we already are,” Andrew said. “We cannot trust them to honour any agreement they make; they cannot take the risk of being backed into a corner... sir, the Reich is hellishly unstable. If it goes down, it could easily go down into war.”

  Penelope leaned forward. “We could offer to mediate peace in South Africa.”

  “We’d have problems finding a solution everyone involved could live with,” Hamilton said, darkly. “The South Africans themselves will want to remain Top Dog in the manger for the rest of eternity, while the blacks will want - at the very least - self-rule and an end to the apartheid system. And the Nasties will want to exterminate the blacks and probably add South Africa to the Third Reich.

  “Remove the German forces and the South Africans will either have to flee the country or be brutally murdered by the blacks. Stop supplying the blacks with weapons and the Germans will probably shove them all into gas chambers - if there are any left alive by the end of the war.”

  Andrew shuddered. The South African Government had imposed a complete lockdown on newsmen travelling to South Africa, but a handful of intrepid reporters had made the long journey to the front. They’d sent back horrific stories and pictures, including one of hundreds of villages being firebombed from high overhead and refugees gunned down mercilessly. It had shocked America, particularly the black population. The President might find it politically impossible to stop sending weapons and supplies to the insurgents. He’d be deserted by every black congressmen and senator in the country.

  “And if the Germans do abandon South Africa, the chaos will spread to Germany South,” he added. It might not be a bad thing - Germany South was the world’s largest source of uranium - but it would definitely worry the German leadership. “And then it will spread upwards into French and Italian territory.”

  “The Germans would be wise to consolidate what they’ve got,” Penelope said, flatly. “If they try to hold on to their entire empire, they’ll likely lose everything.”

  “They seem to disagree with you,” Knox said.

  “I’d be surprised if they truly understood the problem,” Penelope said, mildly. “I’ve met a great many political and military leaders who refused to even try to understand economics.”

  Ouch, Andrew thought, as Knox’s face flushed with anger. A palatable hit.

  The Ambassador tapped the table sharply. “I’m due to speak with the President tomorrow,” he said. “Do I advise him, then, to do nothing and just wait for the Reich to fall apart on its own?”

  “I suggest you advise him to take some extra precautions, just in case,” Knox advised. “If they’re planning to strike against us, they’re not going to tell their own people until the rockets are in the air. Putting the air and missiles bases on alert might make the difference between survival and destruction.”

  “They’d just be committing suicide,” Penelope argued. “It makes no sense.”

  She had a point, Andrew knew. The Reich and the NAA didn't share a border. They might be able to launch an invasion force across the English Channel, but getting the Wehrmacht to
Washington DC was a fool’s dream. They’d have to contend with the United States Navy, the United States Air Force, the Royal Navy and the Canadian Navy. Andrew privately doubted the Germans would get halfway across the ocean before every last one of their ships were sunk. The Germans could make America miserable - tracking down Nazi sleeper cells was a persistent headache for the FBI - but they couldn't invade and occupy territory.

  “They may not realise the truth,” Hamilton said. “Or they might not care. Just because they look like us doesn't mean they think like us.”

  Andrew nodded. He’d seen what passed for education in German schools. It was long on physical exercise and quasi-military training, short on teaching boys and girls how to be anything other than interchangeable cogs in a machine. He still shuddered at visiting a school, one day, and watching the children mouth their hatred of non-Aryans. The only good thing about the whole affair was that the pictures they were shown of Jews were so horrifically caricatured that the children wouldn't recognise a Jew if they saw one.

  “See what else you can gather from your sources,” the Ambassador added. “Maybe we can find a way to let them down gently.”

  “They’d hate us for making the offer,” Knox said.

  “They’re already placing orders for more computers and other advanced electronics,” Hamilton added. He looked at Penelope. “How long can they pay for them?”

  “Unknown,” Penelope said. “But the Reich’s stockpile of foreign currency is quite low. I’d advise the sellers to make sure they get cash in advance.”

  Knox scowled. “Does that not present a threat to us?”

  “Possibly,” Andrew said, before Penelope could say a word. “But you try convincing the corporations that they shouldn't sell their outdated crap to the Germans.”

  The Ambassador finished his coffee and rose. “I’ll see you all after I speak with the President,” he said, checking his watch. It was nearly midnight. “Until then, goodnight.”

  Andrew smiled as he departed, followed by Knox. The military attaché would have his own report to write; Andrew, thankfully, could put his off until the following morning, when he’d had a chance to think about what he’d seen. Hamilton finished his own coffee, then headed for the door himself. Andrew watched him go, then looked at Penelope. She looked tired and cross-eyed.

  “I plan to go for a walk in a couple of days,” he said. He wasn't asking for a date, although he knew that some people wouldn't be able to tell the difference. “Do you want to accompany me?”

  Penelope hesitated. Andrew understood. No real harm would come to them, they’d been warned when they accepted the posting, but the SS sometimes harassed American visitors to Berlin. It was no great secret that spies were based in the embassy, even though Andrew, Hamilton and Penelope herself had cover stories that should explain their activities. The SS might hope that harassing the Americans would lead them to German traitors.

  “It might be fun,” she said, finally. She understood what they’d be really doing, all right. A young couple out on a stroll would attract less attention than a man on his own. “Why not?”

  Chapter Six

  Albert Speer University, Berlin

  20 July 1985

  Walking into the Albert Speer University for the first time, Gudrun recalled as she walked towards the doors, had been like taking a breath of fresh air for the first time in her life. Like every other child in the Reich, she had endured fifteen years of schooling where she’d been expected to regurgitate answers and otherwise do exactly as she was told. She’d quite lost count of the number of times she’d been forced to run laps around the school, stand in the corridor or undergo other humiliating punishments for daring to actually question the teacher’s words, let alone the letters they’d sent home to her parents. And yet, despite that, university had seemed a more attractive option at seventeen than trying to become a nurse, a housewife or entering one of the few careers open to women. It had been a surprise when she’d been told that the traits that had got her in trouble at school were precisely the traits the university wanted from its students.

  “You have not been taught to think,” her first tutor had said, when he’d addressed the class on the very first day. It had been the first mixed-sex class Gudrun had ever had, but she’d been too fascinated to notice the presence of young men mixed in with the young women. “Here, we will attempt to teach you to think.”

  Her first year at the university had been fascinating, to say the least. She’d learned how to use a computer, one of the blocky American-made machines that were imported into the Reich at great expense, and dozens of other skills that made up the background for STEM courses. She knew she had to choose a major by the time she turned twenty, when she would be expected to specialise in one particular field of study, but she was honestly tempted to try to delay that as long as she could. No one had shown her anything of the sort while she’d been at school, let alone allowed her to come to her own conclusions. Hell, she’d never heard of anyone being expelled from the university for asking questions. They were all too eager to learn to make trouble.

  “We don’t take everyone,” the tutor had said, a year ago. “The exams we set look for the underlying potential for intelligence, not developed intelligence. You are here because we believe we can help your minds to flourish and, in return, you will advance the Reich.”

  She took a moment to admire the statue of Albert Speer, architect, minister and one of the three guiding minds of the Reich after Hitler’s death, then hurried into the building. As always, it was packed; students who had been given the week off for Victory Day had hurried back as soon as they could, preparing for the exams they knew to be coming in three months, exams that would determine their future. Far too many of them actually lived on campus, sharing rooms in university accommodation that were strictly segregated and chaperoned; Gudrun remembered, with a flicker of envy, how she’d begged her mother and father to allow her to apply for one of the university rooms. But her mother had flatly refused to allow Gudrun to live away from home.

  Probably thought I’d spend all my time in bed with Konrad, she thought, bitterly. There were housemothers, she’d been told, but they couldn't hope to chaperone everyone. And abandon my studies completely if I fell pregnant.

  She gritted her teeth at the thought as she hurried into the lecture hall. Some of her friends were already there, pens and paper at the ready; they knew better than to be late when a lecture was about to begin. The doors would be closed a minute after the deadline and anyone who failed to make it would be marked as absent, which would lead to a thoroughly unpleasant discussion with the dean. Gudrun had never faced the man himself, thankfully, but she’d heard rumours that anyone who missed more than two classes in a row was given a punishment so awful that no one ever spoke of it...

  Which raises the question of just how people know that something happens, she thought, dryly. The dean probably started the rumours himself, just to keep us in line.

  She took her seat and nudged Hilde Morgenstern, a dark-haired girl who’d been her friend ever since the first week at university. “Meeting in the private study room this afternoon after lunch,” she hissed. “Pass it on.”

  Hilde gave her a sharp look - their private study group wasn't exactly a formal organisation - and then nodded, turning to whisper in Sven’s ear. Gudrun hadn't been entirely sure that a group composed of both males and females could work - the handful of dances she’d endured at school had been marred by male behaviour as they grew older - but she had to admit that Sven and the others were very focused on their work. Sven in particular was going to be a computer designer, or so he’d said. He already had an uncanny insight into how the computers they used at university actually worked.

  “I think that’s everyone told,” Hilde muttered, once the whispered message had gone down the row. “Isn’t it a little early to be panicking over exams?”

  “It’s not about the exams,” Gudrun muttered back. The tutor closed the doors
with a loud thud and strode to the podium, his dark eyes searching for troublemakers. “I’ll tell you this afternoon.”

  The lecture would have been interesting, she had to admit, if she hadn't been thinking about Konrad and everything she’d deduced. Thankfully, the tutor didn't call on her to answer questions - she’d barely heard half of what he’d said - and by the time the class finally came to an end, she’d reluctantly struck a deal with Hilde for a copy of her notes. She’d have to work extra hard, if she could muster the energy, to catch up. The tutors rarely showed any sympathy to anyone who attended the lectures and still needed to beg for advice and assistance.

  “That’s not like you,” Hilde observed, as they headed for lunch. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll tell you in the study room,” Gudrun said. She caught Leopold’s arm as he passed. “Can you bring your stereo?”