Axis of Evil

Epilogue

Führerbunker

Berlin, Germany

12^th July 1941

If there was anything to be said about the strange 2015 concept of freedom of the press, which the British reporter had attempted to explain to him, it made conducting post-incident assessments a lot easier. The BBC’s coverage of the attack on New York, and the confused situation in Washington, had delighted Himmler. He’d dared to hope for a day that America would collapse and withdraw from the war, but instead Truman had taken over as President.

Himmler chuckled to himself. At least the Americans had declared war on the Soviet Union, expanding the war without thought for the consequences. Kesselring, his new ally, had risen again in the Fuhrer’s esteem, just for coordinating a joint attack on Sweden. Himmler chuckled again; the Swedes were Aryans, soon enough they would be part of the Greater Master Race of the Reich.

And if not, we can always have their children adopted by good Germans, Himmler thought coldly, as the door opened. He didn’t panic; there was no way an attacker could get into his quarters, he’d invited his guest himself. SS Obergruppenfuehrer Hans Krueger stepped into the office, saluting as he came.

“Heil Hitler,” Himmler returned. “How are you, Hans?”

“I am as well as I’ll ever be,” Krueger said. “Do you wish the report on New York?”

Himmler nodded impatiently. “The bomb detonated as planned,” Krueger said. “There was a great deal of devastation, fully comparable to the ammunition ship disasters in the last war. As for radiation… Herr Reichsführer, it’s hard to be certain. We sent the ground from the British strike – the first British strike – and some products of our research, but as for the effects…

“The BBC seems to think that the effects will be long-term, rather than immediate,” he continued. Himmler nodded; the BBC, even the open channels, seemed to put out more information than the Reich Ministry of Information would ever have allowed. Of course, they had no way of knowing that Germany had one of their reception sets. “We might have sentenced a few thousand Americans to early deaths, but its impossible to be certain.”

Himmler nodded. “Fortunately, the Americans blamed the Russians,” he said. “It was hardly a total disaster. The nuclear blast near Stalin’s own city” – he’d thought at first that Stalingrad was Stalin’s hometown – “will remind them of the potential of British weapons, which should make them more dependent upon us.”

He grinned coldly. “We can use the Slavs as cannon fodder, while we prepare our own weapons,” he said. “Has there been any major change in the nuclear production program?”

Krueger scowled. “We’ve started experimenting with fast-fission and several other angles,” he said. “Optimistically, we should have enough material to produce a bomb by late 1943, depending upon events.”

“This would be a great deal easier if everything went like clockwork,” Himmler muttered. He held up a hand before Krueger could start making excuses. “I know, even though we have jumped forward in many fields, we still have to build and test.”

“Yes, Herr Reichsführer,” Krueger agreed. “Even though we know most of the steps, we cannot assume that we know everything. The documents we managed to get our hands on assume knowledge that we do not possess; the scientists have to remain completely separate from the places of work.”

Himmler frowned. “And the American bomb?”

Krueger shook his head. “It depends,” he said. “The reports aren’t clear as to how much help the British are giving them. They also had to remove a lot of their top scientists as they were working for Stalin; we did try to recover them, but the Americans have them under tight security. Again, assuming that they hit no problems, late 1943.”

“And the Americans will certainly lack the British reluctance to hit our cities,” Himmler mused. It was odd; given even a handful of the weapons, he would have smashed all of the enemies and ruled forever. “Something to think about, I fear.”

“Radio Rommel certainly does,” Krueger said. Himmler gave him a sharp look. “It is part of my duties, Herr Reichsführer.”

“I know,” Himmler said. “You may go. Report to me if you hit any problems at all.”

Krueger left and Himmler returned to his musing. The Americans would overcome their problems… and then invade Europe. Hitting Stalin in the rear, or up from the Middle East, would present so many logistical problems that even the Americans would quail. That meant… prolonging, even expanding, the alliance with Stalin was of prime importance, whatever it took.

“I’m going to see the Fuhrer,” he said, as he picked up his jacket. He was one of the few people with instant access to Hitler, whatever the time was. “And then I think I’ll take a stroll.”

His guards fell in around him as he left his office, within the ever-growing network of bunkers and chambers, digging deeper and deeper into Berlin. He frowned; already, he looked paler than he’d ever been before. Himmler had never believed in vampires, but the pale faces were almost enough to convince him that they existed.

“I’m here to see the Fuhrer,” he said bluntly to Hitler’s secretary. She’d been spending more time with him of late, ever since he’d had to send Eva Braun away.

“You may enter,” she said, passing him into Hitler’s rooms. The Fuhrer sat at his desk, writing out his latest speech. He looked up as Himmler entered.

“I have prepared the movement orders for the three Army Groups,” Hitler said. His voice was surprisingly rational. “Army Group North will take Leningrad and trap the Soviet armies in Finland. Army Group Centre will hammer its way to Moscow. Army Group South will take the Ukraine. With our attack, the Americans will be willing to discuss peace… until our nuclear weapons are ready.”

Himmler felt his blood run cold. “Mein Fuhrer, we cannot fight both the Russians and the Americans,” he said. “We have to give them time to weaken one another first…”

Hitler’s face and mood changed rapidly, his face contorting with anger. Himmler cursed that doctor as Hitler began a torrent of invective. What had that fat fool given him?

“You will fail me too?” Hitler bellowed, after running through a torrent of rude words. “You, my most faithful…”

He stopped, seemed to freeze in place for a long chilling moment, and then he fell to the ground. Himmler cried out in shock and ran forward, catching the Fuhrer, even as blood poured from Hitler’s mouth. He shouted for a medical team – and guards to shoot the quack doctor – but it was clearly too late. Hitler tried to say something, coughed up more blood… and died.