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What Doctor Gottlieb Saw

Page 3

by Ian Tregillis


  “By the time the engineers realized there was a problem and cut the flow of diesel fuel, it was too late. Without speed control, the rotor accelerated beyond its tolerances. The voltage regulators couldn’t keep up.”

  “The power surge,” said Pabst. “The blown fuses.”

  Gottlieb said, “This happened just as Klaus carried his battery to the test site. The batteries contain delicate circuitry. It’s susceptible to—“ He opened his bird-watching notebook, read the phrase Osterhagen had provided. “—electromagnetic pulse.”

  As for why Gretel had done this, Gottlieb explained how the close call played on Klaus’s phobia. No mere warning could have carried the same visceral impact. “I predict Klaus will make rapid progress in his training. His sister orchestrated this experience to hone him. Temper him.”

  Von Westarp sunk into a brooding silence. It lasted several minutes. The only sound was a faint click when Pabst turned on a lamp.

  “Do you know what this means?” von Westarp whispered.

  Yes, thought Gottlieb. She’s too dangerous, too subtle to be let loose. Please see that.

  “If there were a God,” said von Westarp, “she would know His mind, and thwart Him. He has been replaced.”

  Like a sweater caught on a burr, Gottlieb’s breath hitched in his chest. Von Westarp was making a grievous error, thinking he could use Gretel. But Gottlieb had narrowly avoided one execution this week, and couldn’t bear to start over again. Perhaps it was weakness, perhaps it was cowardice, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

  “Excellent work, Gottlieb. If you hadn’t persevered, the full scope of my success might have gone unrecognized a great deal longer.”

  Gottlieb knew when he was dismissed. He should have melted with relief, but he couldn’t. Not while one loose end remained.

  As he departed, he heard von Westarp address the colonel: “I’m troubled, Pabst. This flaw in the batteries is unacceptable. Go down to the laboratory….”

  * * *

  Von Westarp called off the search for Oskar’s body the next morning. The excavation had grown so deep and wide it threatened to disrupt training operations. It did make a convenient grave, however. They tossed Osterhagen’s body in the crater before filling it.

  Gottlieb said a silent prayer for his friend, then took a walk to the meadow.

  Gretel was there. But she had company today. Von Westarp had assigned a soldier to attend her. Right now the private carried an armload of buttercups and lavender. Another soldier had been sent to the mess hall, to collect empty milk bottles that Gretel could use as vases.

  And just like that, the last loose thread unraveled before Gottlieb’s eyes. Gottlieb had worked at it well into the night, as he drank to Osterhagen’s memory. But he’d made no headway.

  With a minimum of effort, Gretel had managed to save her brother’s life while simultaneously ensuring the near miss would become a scar he carried for the rest of his life. And along the way she managed to demonstrate—vividly—a major flaw in the battery design.

  All this in the course of hanging wildflowers in her room. Which, doubtless, she would have done even if she’d had no need to rescue Klaus. She liked flowers.

  Gretel was nothing if not efficient. And yet she’d gone so far out of her way to change her routine on the day Oskar died. She hadn’t done it before or since. Why hunt mushrooms on that one day?

  Because Gretel had wanted Gottlieb to see her.

  When they’d first met, Osterhagen had said Gottlieb was Pabst’s dogsbody. But that was wrong. Not a dogsbody—a cat’s-paw. He’d been Gretel’s cat’s-paw.

  She’d arranged everything so that Gottlieb would dissect her plan and lay it out for von Westarp. Just to instill von Westarp with a sense of awe. From now on, Gretel could do anything she wanted.

  Who controlled the farm now? Gottlieb couldn’t say for certain. But he did know that from now on he lived by Gretel’s indulgence as much as von Westarp’s.

  She had murdered God. Nature had lost its grip on her.

  Copyright © Ian Tregillis 2010

  Cover art © copyright Gary Kelley 2010

  Books by Ian Tregillis

  Bitter Seeds (Tor Books, 2010)

  The Coldest War (forthcoming from Tor Books)

 

 

 


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