Ragnarok

Chapter Fifteen

Germanica (Moscow), Germany East

3 November 1985

Gudrun started awake… and froze.

She was in a different cell. The cage bars that allowed her guards to watch her were gone, the hard bed was gone… instead, she was lying on a plastic bed, inside a room that reminded her of a swimming pool. She took a long breath as she sat upright and shuddered, unable to hide her revulsion. The room smelt like a swimming pool too, bringing back memories of learning to swim at school. She’d dreaded those lessons, but there had been no avoiding them. Or the wet towels snapped across her back and buttocks by the matrons when they thought she was deliberately lagging…

They moved me while I was asleep, she thought, numbly. She looked down and scowled as she realised she was still naked. It didn’t bother her any longer, not when she knew there was far worse to come. But why?

She swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood. Her legs felt oddly steady, even though she knew she must have been drugged again. Perhaps she was growing used to whatever they were feeding her. Or perhaps she’d fallen asleep naturally and they’d just gambled that she wouldn’t wake up, while they carried her to her new cell. She glanced around, studying the walls. They were solid plastic, smooth to the touch. She couldn’t see any cameras.

They’ll still be watching, she told herself, as she examined the door. It was sealed, unsurprisingly, so carefully worked into the walls that she honestly wasn’t sure she was looking at the door until she traced out the frame. There were no handles, nothing to indicate how the door could be opened from the inside. They’ll be watching me to see what I do.

She swept her gaze around the room, but saw nothing. The bed was really nothing more than plastic, hard to the touch. And yet it was warm… the entire room was surprisingly warm. It felt almost like a sauna. Did they want to warm her up? Or were they just playing games with her mind? She honestly didn’t know.

Be grateful it isn’t worse, she told herself. She’d had to undergo a medical exam, shortly after arriving — she had no idea how long she’d been in Germanica — and it had been humiliating, far worse than anything she’d experienced in the BDM. Being in a cell is better than on the examination table.

She sat back down, shaking her head slowly. Perhaps they were trying to drive her mad with boredom. It wasn’t going to work, if that was the case. She’d always been at the top of her class, in school; she hadn’t been truly challenged until she’d gone to university and discovered that she wasn’t the smartest person in the world after all. Boredom had been part of her life, ever since she’d found out that complaining about the lessons was a good way to be noticed by an angry teacher. And telling him that he’d got something wrong — and he had — hadn’t helped either.

Pushing the thought aside, she concentrated on a more important problem. How long had she been in Germanica? She didn’t know — it felt as if the entire world had shrunk to her prison cell — but she was a woman. Her period had been a week off, more or less, before she’d been captured. And there was no way they could hide her blood from her.

Or have they drugged me to ensure I don’t bleed, she asked herself. Or did Horst manage to get me pregnant?

She closed her eyes in pain as the full implications dawned on her. They hadn’t used protection — how could they, when contraception was almost unavailable save for older couples with more than three children? Horst could easily have gotten her pregnant, before or after the marriage. And if she was pregnant… she swallowed, hard. The SS might not harm the baby — the parents were both of good bloodlines — but they would certainly take the child away.

And I’ve been half-starved, she thought. My period might be delayed anyway.

She worked her way through the logic, slowly. If she wasn’t pregnant, she’d only been in Germanica for a week, more or less. But if she was pregnant…

A dull thump echoed through the room. She looked up, alarmed. There was a hissing sound, right above her; moments later, a tiny hatch appeared in the ceiling. Seconds later, a stream of water poured from overhead and splashed down to the floor. The puddle spread rapidly until the bitterly cold water was splashing against her bare feet. Gudrun shivered, pulling her feet up until she was sitting on the bed; the water kept rising as more and more poured down into the room. She cursed under her breath, remembering how the matrons had used to push girls into the swimming pool, then forced her legs into the cold water. There was no way to avoid taking a swim.

She started to shiver as the water rose higher. It was cold, so cold… to her horror, the water just kept rising, threatening to drown her. She found herself kicking to stay afloat, her body rising until it was pushed against the ceiling, the water bubbling at her mouth… did they mean to kill her? Panic fluttered at the back of her mind as she gasped for air, struggling to pull one last breath into her body. She was going to die in the cell…

…And then the water level dropped so rapidly that she banged her leg against the bed, then landed badly on the wet floor. A grate had opened nearby, draining the water out of her cell; Gudrun was too tired to try to open it, even though she doubted it was a way out for her. Her throat hurt badly; she hacked and coughed, spitting up droplets of water she’d swallowed onto the floor. And it was suddenly very — very — cold.

She forced herself to sit upright, wrapping her arms around her legs as cold air blew into the room. Her entire body shivered helplessly, mocking her. The gusts of air — it was hard not to think of them as wind — blasted over her body, coming from portals high overhead that opened and closed randomly. She couldn’t help a flicker of guilt, remembering how she — and most of the other girls — had teased and tormented those who’d been poor swimmers. Perhaps she deserved to suffer…

Because it was safer to tease them than stand up for them, she thought, bitterly. The matrons hadn’t done anything about the bullying. Hell, they’d been bullies themselves. And none of us wanted the matrons looking elsewhere. We were grateful when the matrons picked on the weaker girls.

She ran her hand through her wet hair, knowing there was nothing she could do to straighten it out. The entire Reich was based on bullying, on the strong tormenting the weak… why should the BDM have been any different? And she’d had more than her fair share of torments too… except that wasn’t entirely true. Gudrun’s father could have made real trouble for the matrons, if they’d stepped too far out of line. Perhaps she should have asked him to defend the other girls.

A low rumble ran through the room. The floor hatches opened, spewing water back up and into the room. Gudrun yelped in shock as the water — scalding hot this time — splashed against her bare skin, then jumped back to get out of the way as the water kept rising. But this time it was too hot, burning her as it rose higher… she scrambled back onto the bed, knowing it wouldn’t give her more than minimal protection. And then it started to wash against her feet.

She gritted her teeth, trying not to scream. It wasn’t hot enough to do real damage — she hoped — but it was hot enough to be extremely uncomfortable. And it was still rising, brushing against her knees. She stood on tiptoe, trying to keep as much of herself as she could out of the water, even though she knew it was futile. The water brushed against her thighs, then her breasts, then finally started lapping at her throat. She kicked desperately as her head bumped against the ceiling, hoping — praying — that the water would be released, again, before she drowned. Or was cooked…

…Instead, water started pouring from the ceiling.

She closed her eyes, expecting to drown at any second. But the water level seemed stable… she realised, numbly, that the hot water was being drained as cold water poured from high overhead. The temperature dropped rapidly, so rapidly that she started to shiver within seconds. She tried to remember what she’d been told about hypothermia, but she couldn’t remember anything, beyond the word having been used as a threat in swimming class. It had been enough to make her obey.

And then the water level dropped, again. She found herself sitting on the floor, her entire body shaking helplessly.

They can kill me at any moment, Gudrun thought, as the last remnants of the water drained away into the floor. That had always been true, but now she knew it. They can kill me any time they like.

She shuddered, forcing her body to stand and lean against the wall. Her skin had gone red, as if she’d spent too long in the sun. She knew the colour would fade, that her skin would return to normal, but she didn’t miss the underlying message. It wouldn’t be long before they started inflicting more permanent harm on her, if she refused to talk. Or to help them…

Another low gurgle echoed through the room. Gudrun cursed as the water — warm water, this time — began to bubble up from the floor. It was rising slowly, but surely; she knew, deep inside, that she didn’t have the energy to keep fighting. Part of her just wanted to give in, to let them drown her. It would be a victory, of sorts. The SS wouldn’t have her to parade in front of her former allies. But it would also be a defeat. She would never see Horst again…

She cursed, savagely, then rolled over and drifted on her back. It had been nearly two years since she’d done it — she hadn’t gone swimming since she’d left school — but the old skill was still there. She promised herself, if she survived long enough, that she’d hunt down her old matrons and make sure they suffered for their crimes. Shutting down the BDM wasn’t enough.

And the water level kept rising…

“She hasn’t broken yet,” Karl Holliston observed.

“No, Mein Führer,” Müller said. “But she’s definitely weakening.”

Karl shrugged. Watching a young girl being pushed to the brink of drowning, time and time again, wasn’t particularly amusing. If Gudrun had been anyone else — a girl unfortunate enough to have the wrong relatives — he would have ordered her exile to Germany East without a second thought. Müller would have bitched about losing his test subject, but Karl would have taken no notice. The camps had plenty of room for SS doctors who forgot who gave the orders.

But Gudrun wasn’t someone else.

He shook his head, feeling a blaze of helpless anger. Displaying Gudrun in front of his supporters — the upper leadership of Germany East — had been a mistake. No one had said anything overtly — not yet — but he knew that some of the Gauleiters had qualms. Gudrun was a young girl, barely old enough to bear children. They’d been raised to protect young women, to treat them as the queens and princesses they were… to issue gentle correction, rather than outright torture. Forcing Gudrun to appear before them, naked and chained, had brought out their protective instincts.

But none of them truly comprehended that Gudrun was a menace. In all honesty, Karl himself hadn’t appreciated it until the Reich Council came apart at the seams. Gudrun was not a physical threat — she certainly wasn’t a trained combatant — but that didn’t make her any less dangerous. It was the ideals she represented, the truths she told, that threatened the integrity of the Reich. And her ability to talk otherwise sensible men into rebellion was truly dangerous. Karl dreaded to think what would happen if the Gauleiters managed to talk to her.

“She’s going to be pushed right to the edge with the next one, Mein Führer,” Müller said, breaking into Karl’s thoughts. “And then we’ll pull her out and start asking questions.”

Karl gave him a sharp look. Müller enjoyed his job too much. Karl wouldn’t have been too concerned if Müller wanted to play games with Untermensch prisoners, but Gudrun had to be left alive and reasonably unmarked. She needed to be mentally broken, not physically broken…

“Make sure she is physically unharmed,” he growled. “Or else you will be the next one in the drowning room.”

Müller flinched. Karl wasn’t too surprised. Like most interrogators, Müller was a coward at heart, fearful of the day he’d be put inside his own cells. And he knew precisely how Müller liked to entertain himself. How strange it was that a man would be so scared of his own entertainments… if he was on the wrong side. But it was what made Müller so useful to the SS.

And people like him have advanced our knowledge considerably, Karl thought, as Müller headed off to start the next step in his plan. Where would we be without the knowledge that has come out of the camps?

He smiled at the thought. Adolf Hitler had wanted to exterminate the Untermenschen from the Third Reich, but it had been Himmler who had seen the value in doing more than simply killing them. Countless Untermenschen had been tested to destruction, their lives contributing to a growing archive of knowledge about the human body. Some of it had been futile — the search for a homosexual gene had turned up nothing — but much of the research had actually proven useful. There had even been talk of impregnating Untermenschen women with Aryan babies, using them as host mothers to bring the babies to term. Only fears about what might get into the babies had dissuaded the Reich from trying the experiment.

Can’t have them weakened by their hosts, he thought, darkly. They might be useless to us.

His lips thinned as he watched Gudrun being dragged out of the drowning room by her long blonde hair. Too many of the Gauleiters would definitely disapprove of such treatment, even for a treacherous bitch. Gudrun seemed too tired to fight back, even though she wasn’t chained or otherwise bound. And yet, she was holding herself together remarkably well, even after being pushed right to the brink of her endurance. Karl had seen hardened insurgents break after spending a few hours in the drowning room, breaking down and begging for mercy, but Gudrun hadn’t broken. She was badly shaken, clearly weakened, yet still holding herself together.

Too weak to strike a blow, Karl told himself, as he watched them drag Gudrun into the next room and shove her into a hard metal chair. Or is she merely biding her time?

He shrugged, dismissing the thought. No one short of Otto Skorzeny himself could possibly hope to escape from the cells, let alone break out onto the streets. The Reichstag was the single most heavily-defended building in Germanica; hell, the prison complex had only two exits, both sealed from the outside. Gudrun might be able to escape from Müller — Karl rather doubted Müller could handle someone who actually wanted to fight back — but where could she go?

Nowhere, he thought.

He glanced up as a nervous-looking guardsman entered the room. “Mein Führer,” he said, snapping out a perfect salute. “Oberstgruppenführer Ruengeler requests your presence in the War Room.”

“Understood,” Karl said. “Dismissed.”

The guardsman didn’t quite flee, but it looked very much as though he wanted to. Karl knew, even as he started the long walk back to the War Room, that it was bad news. No one wanted to be remembered as the person who brought bad news… Himmler, for all of his many virtues, had a terrible habit of shooting the messenger. Karl still winced at the thought of a promising young officer who’d been exiled to Germany Arabia for bringing the Reichsführer some very bad news. He wasn’t like that…

…Was he?

“Mein Führer,” Ruengeler said, as Karl walked into the War Room. “The enemy have begun their offensive.”

He sounded surprised. Karl allowed himself a tight smile, despite the situation. Ruengeler, a professional military man if ever there was one, had doubted that the rebels would attack so soon. But Karl, who was more used to politics than war, knew the rebels had little choice but to attack. Chewing up the remaining SS divisions before they could reform was their only hope of a quick victory.

And so they fall right into my trap, he thought.

“Very good,” he said, calmly. There was no hope of directing the battle from Germanica — no doubt Ruengeler was worried about him trying to do precisely that — but he could keep abreast of the situation. “Do we have an axis of advance yet?”

“No, Mein Führer,” Ruengeler said. “But it won’t be long now.”

“Of course not,” Karl agreed. He put Gudrun out of his mind. If the battle were lost, breaking her would no longer matter. She could be killed — or exiled, if too many people made a fuss — and then forgotten. “Let’s wait and see what they do.”