the Turmfalke cloak could replace the light in an immediate area around the ship with light from the past. It was, in effect like surrounding the ship with an old photograph. The device would prove essential if the two Zeit Korp craft were to fly into the centre of Berlin undetected.
The craft moved over a flat area of ground, away to Gillitzer’s left, and lowered its landing gear. It silently descended, throwing up a cloud of powdered snow, as it made graceful contact with the earth. As Gillitzer and Braal started the short trek over to the ship, its hatched hissed open and lowered slowly to the ground.
The two men reached the landing area just as the diminutive figure of Major Richtofen emerged. He stepped down the ramp with a combination of purpose and arrogance, his jet-black overcoat in stark contrast to the snow covered Siberian landscape. As the major reached the bottom of the ramp, Gillitzer could not help but note that it was the first time he had seen Richtofen appear to be, in what could loosely be described, as a good mood.
“I suppose congratulations are in order, Captain.” said Richtofen, as they flicked up the collar of his coat, “This is a momentous day for the Korp.”
“Thank you, Major.” replied Gillitzer, “But it is my crew that deserves the credit.”
“You’re being too modest, Gillitzer...A crew a is only ever as good as their commanding officer.” said Richtofen with all the conviction of a man who had built a career had upon claiming credit for the actions of others.
“Tell me, Captain,” Richtofen continued, “how long ago did you arrive?”
“About four months ago, Major.” Replied Gillitzer, trying to mask the fact that had just lied.
“Four months?” questioned Richtofen, “An incredible stroke of good fortune that the first jump beyond minute zero fell within the operational threshold...almost unbelievable.”
A burning wave of panic ran through Gillitzer. He didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a moment to read Richtofen’s expression. Did the major already suspect that they had made a second jump?
“Indeed, it was,” he said, still unsure whether Richtofen’s statement had been an accusation or just a casual remark, “but some would say we were due some after the loss of the Kolibri.”
“Quite,” replied the Major, in a tone that confirmed it been the former.
A crewman of the Turmfalke then appeared at the hatch, carrying two large hold-alls. He walked down the ramp and placed them on the ground in front of Richtofen, before disappearing back inside the ship.
“Now Captain,” continued Richtofen, as he crouched down and unzipped one of the bags, “this is the gear you will need...quantum reversal suits, stasis pistols...all styled for the period, naturally.”
“And what’s in the other bag?” asked Gillitzer.
“Why, rations, of course!” snorted Richtofen, “you must be running low after four months. I Know we are only going to be here for another day and a half, but you must have been on half rations for quite some time now...I thought you could probably do with a top up.”
“Y-yes,” said Gillitzer with the distinct feeling that he had just been outmanoeuvred, “that’s very good of you, Major.”
“Our next course of action,” began Richtofen again, “is to take off and go into high earth orbit above Berlin. At precisely zero two hundred ours, local time, we shall descend to a height of one hundred thousand feet and maintain position at which point we will activate the cloaking device. We will then continue our descent and touch down in the Grossen Tiergarten. Once we have set up the quantum reversal generator, you and your team will take the decoy and make your way to the Fuhrerbunker.”
Gillitzer gave and understanding nod as Richtofen spelled out the plan, even though the Major words were wasted on him. He knew every detail of the final phase, but he also knew that it was not a good idea to interrupt Richtofen when he was issuing orders.
“Once you have secured the Fuhrer,” the Major continued, “all you need to do is return with him back to the Tiergarten.”
“Understood.” said Gillitzer, nodding again.
“I don’t, of course,” Said Richtofen, in a far sterner tone, “need to remind you of how important this mission is to the future of both the Korp and the high council. I want everything done by the book...understood?”
“Yes, Major,” replied Gillitzer.
“This operation is under my command, now,” Richtofen continued, “and I do not tolerate failure, Captain. Your recent track record doesn’t, inspire much confidence, Gillitzer, and you certainly wouldn’t be my first choice to lead the mission, but unfortunately, I don’t have a choice. I expect protocol to be followed to the letter, do I make myself clear?”
“Yes Major.” Gillitzer said again, although this time with mildest hint of contempt in his voice.
“Very good, Captain,” replied Richtofen, “Then all that is left is for me to wish you good luck.”
Both Gillitzer and Braal then offered Richtofen a prompt salute, which he casually returned, before spinning on his heels and marching back up the Turmfalke’s ramp. They waited for the hatch to shut before they each picked up a hold-all and started back through the snow, towards the Erloser.
“Do you think he knows?” whispered Commander Braal after they had taken a few steps.
“About the second jump?” replied Gillitzer, “He suspects...but at this moment, I don’t think he cares. All he he’s worried about is getting Adolf Hitler back to the high council...or, more precisely, the prestige that will come with it.”
“Do you think we can pull this off?” asked Braal.
“Well, it’s not going to be as straight forward as Richtofen makes out,” replied Gillitzer, “getting to the bunker from the Tiergarten will be tricky. Whilst the Wehrmacht uniforms will help us avoid any unwanted attention from German troops, the same cannot be said if we happen to run into any Russians. Infiltrating the bunker won’t be straight forward either, but if-”
The captain paused momentarily as he adjusted his grip on the hold-all. the combination of the bags considerable weight as well as the biting cold was already causing the handle to bite into his hand. Once he had a more comfortable grip, he began moving once again.
“If we can make it to the Fuhrer, and persuade him to leave without too much trouble, then getting back to the ship should be a relatively simple task.” continued Gillitzer, not knowing that his words would soon come back to haunt him.
IV
A Stitch in Time, Saves...Nien
The Fuhrer, sat on the sofa of his private quarters staring blankly at the lifeless body that lay at his feet. Although the world was awash with death and had been for years, this one was different... this was Eva. He had expected that witnessing the death of his wife at least, would have inspired some feelings of remorse or grief or sadness. He was wrong.
Now the only emotion he felt was despair, and it had soaked through to his very soul. He had, until very recently, still harboured some hope of victory or escape, but now even that had gone. And so, he sat there, with his pistol clutched in his right hand and a cyanide capsule in his left.
All that remained for him, knowing that his death was imminent, was to consider the choices that he had made in life. The world had been shaped by the decisions he had made, and now his choices had led him to this place... this moment. Ironically, now he had only one decision left to make; whether to use the capsule or the pistol.
He was gripped by a sudden moment of clarity and slowly began to raise the pistol, until the tip of the barrel was tightly pressed to his temple. Beads of sweat streamed down his face as he struggled to find the strength for this final act. He swallowed hard, then began to tighten his finger on the trigger.
The room was filled with a crack.as the door was flung violently open. The Fuhrer watched, motionless and dumbstruck, as two officers came bursting into the room.
“My Fuhrer...wait!” the first of them frantically, yelled.
Hitler up glared at them for a second, before realising that he
was still holding the pistol to his head. He lowered his arm and placed the pistol on the sofa, still somewhat shocked by the sudden intrusion. As he regained his composure, his initial confusion was replaced with anger.
“What is the meaning of this?” he snarled, “I gave specific orders that I was not to be disturbed!”
“I’m sorry, my Fuhrer,” replied the officer, “but we’re here to rescue you.”
The statement caught Hitler off-guard and rendered him speechless once again. His mind was swimming with conflicting emotions as he stared dumbly at the pair. Any hope of rescue had disappeared some days before, and yet here was a man apparently offering an escape.
It must be some sort of trap, he thought, immediately filled with paranoia. Neither of the men were familiar to him, and he was sure that he had not seen them in the bunker complex before. They could be Russian agents...
“Who are you?” he hissed, as he took up his pistol again and pointed it at the pair.
“Captain Gillitzer, Twelfth Army,” was the reply.
The Fuhrer’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the pair, attempting to assess their sincerity. The older of the two, the one that had introduced himself as Gillitzer, seemed calm, despite the fact that he was staring down the barrel of a gun. If he was worried, his ice-blue eyes were hiding it well.
The same could not be said of his young companion. The young officer looked distinctly fearful, as if it was the first time that