Chapter 4
Shrewd Snakes, Innocent Doves
April 24, 1983
Skies over Poland
Shade 1 raised his binoculars to the horizon, his vision partly obscured by the windows. He squinted his eyes as he kept his F-117 Nighthawk high in the dark sky, ensuring it was still following the darker clouds as the slowly rising sun began to turn blue. So far, it had worked.
No sign of cities remained. Civilization, nature, and life itself had been wiped clean under the control of the BETA to the east. But as he eyed the remnants of the horde that had faced the combined forces the previous day, he saw a sign that made him smile slightly.
The BETA strains were not advancing anymore. Rather, the shaggy heads of untouched Grapplers and clumsy bodies of Destroyers moved back towards the remnants of where the Poland border met Belarus, and towards their other stronghold on the continent, and ideally the next target for the combined East-West forces.
He snapped some photos using his Nighthawk's onboard camera. Then, like any good hunter, he turned his bomber around slowly, sluggishly. A sniper that moved carefully through the brush so he went by undetected, such was the Nighthawk's role in skies threatened by the dreaded laser-class BETA strains.
So far, they had worked better than intended.
Silently he wondered if the same could be said of any other new weapons. There had been times when it seemed some new invention could solve a whole slew of problems only to be fully overwhelmed by another set of unrelated problems. Such had been the harsh lessons of wars among humans. Against a wholly inhuman foe… He wondered if they couldn't see him, or if they simply could not identify him as a threat. Against human radar, he'd likely be noticed but not to the point they could necessarily get a proper lock.
Were the Laser Class Strains able to see him in some way, but unable to identify him as a threat? And if they were able to see him and identify him as a threat, could they lock onto him and blast him out of the sky?
He pushed the thoughts away and accelerated back west, chasing the night as a new day began.
Holzdorf Air Base, German Democratic Republic
6:00 AM
With her morning prayers finished, Irisdina Bernhard walked into the hangar where the rest of her pilots were still asleep as the sun only began to poke out from the horizon and cast shadows over the runways and parked aircraft. They had earned the rest after the entire day of constant engagements and the orange rays of sunlight that poked into the hangar gave the scene an air that was almost peaceful and tender. Had someone taken a photo of them in the years prior to the invasion of the BETA, odds were it would have been confused for an image of the hard-working crews having taken a break after a long, arduous drill.
If only.
The exhaustion was all too real, and there was still the universal sense of loss. In spite of the West's jamming aircraft and in spite of the combined efforts of NATO, the United Nations, and the Warsaw Pact, few squadrons had returned without at least one loss. Undeniably better than the previous Operation Scalpel, but no less heavy a weight.
It was with that thought in mind that she had gone out of her way to bring them their breakfast. Why shouldn't she? She'd failed them once again, after all. But at least this time she could pass it off as congratulating them on their success. There would be more, after all, but perhaps she could sneak a genuine token of gratitude in spite of the terrible situation.
"No rest for the wicked, it seems?"
Irisdina turned to the figure of Pham Thi Lan. The older pilot sat by the younger Anett, an arm over her shoulder as the girl slept snugly on the older pilot's shoulder. The circles under her eyes were darker, her short hair disheveled, and her flight suit still held a few darker spots where tears had previously fallen.
Irisdina walked over and placed the breakfast by the girl without a word.
Pham whispered, "She'll grow stronger."
She noted the younger pilot was in a deep sleep. Exhaustion mixed with grief at now being all alone. The loss of so many of the younger pilots during Scalpel, and now Eastern Shield, meant in the entire squadron she was the sole survivor of the newly assigned pilots. There were other younger conscripts on the base, certainly, but no more pilots in her squad that were as new as she was. Irisdina only nodded at Pham's words as she handed the lieutenant her breakfast and moved ahead for the others. Pham gave her a silent thanks and did not try to pursue the conversation further. For that she was grateful.
Despite her caution, some of the older members of her wing were awake, albeit not moving much.
Kruger was the closest of her pilots that could be noted as "talkative". He grunted graciously as she handed him his breakfast, then smiled at her. She didn't bother saying anything as Sylwia's sleeping figure stirred closer to him, an arm wrapped around his as though she were clutching a stuffed bear. The officer in her would've reprimanded them, but she knew it wasn't worth it. Not today. The rest of the crew, the Western pilots, and perhaps even the equipment itself, had earned a much-needed rest.
Once done, she sat down outside the hangar, at the very edge of the shade as the sun was now higher in the rapidly brightening sky. The breeze felt pleasant in the still-cool air of that morning; trees rustled as it blew past her.
Her mind drifted slightly, not to better days, but to a more optimistic time…
"Dear brother, is this really-?"
"Of course it is!"
Jurgen had snapped at her that day. She could tell what was bothering him, she could tell he didn't like it either, but she couldn't stay quiet like he wanted. She glared at him, silently demanding an answer, preparing herself to vocally oppose whatever conclusion he threw her way. Their home was still. Only a few lights on. The broadcaster over the radio incessantly repeated messages that all was well, that the BETA had been struck a great blow on the border with Armenia.
Not one mention about the nuclear devices initiated in the Caspian Sea or the fall of Azerbaijan.
Jurgen Bernhard had held his breath in, then spoken in a calmer voice.
"The data is clear. The Iranians used their Phantoms in conjunction with the American Tomcats to target the Lux-Class. The British and French tried similar tactics during Dilong, but the pilots then didn't have the experience necessary to remain low enough. Flying any aircraft Nap-of-the-Earth is already dangerous as it is, but against the BETA you need a certain level of skill. Warsaw Pact forces have been experimenting with ideas similar to this, too, all I'm doing is proposing a concrete training regiment on the matter."
A touch angry, she had moved her hand over the table, pointing at the map of BETA territory as of the previous year. Europe was already under direct threat, Turkey was under attack, and NATO had activated their Article 5 and begun various operations against them there, which in turn only caused the BETA to turn their attention on Armenia and the borders to Europe. But most importantly, she pointed to Iran, which had lost half its territory by now.
"The Pyrrhic victory in Tehran was ultimately a failure!" she hissed as she stabbed the map with her index finger, "The entire tactic relies on the Lux-Class strains being located beforehand as well as them being in groups close enough they can be hit! If the BETA herds begin to scatter their forces around a larger area, or the Lux-class have the proper cover of hills or buildings…"
Jurgen quickly interrupted her.
"Then the lasers lose a lot of their effectiveness! Keep in mind the BETA's air defense strategy relies on them being bunched up in a clear area to the point they can cover as much of the herd as possible. Cover from our artillery or air means they do not have the line of sight to hit our aircraft, and their being scattered means they cannot defend each other as well! Coupled with their rarity compared to the other types of BETA strains and our limitations in technology, this is the best we can do to even things out! Hit the lasers, allow our artillery and air forces an uncontested air space to decimate the ranks of the herd, and allow other ground forces more of a chance. Is it perfect? No, but what is in this God-forsaken planet?"
She had felt her jaw clench in anger as she quietly countered with her last resort.
"Then why must you go to Moscow?! Have someone you know take credit!"
He'd gone quiet at that. Then, with a confident smile that always gave her some degree of hope, he'd spoken calmly. Reassuringly.
"If we want to make change then we have to climb up the ladder. This…" he pointed at his tactics report and proposal, "This is how we save the DDR."
She had considered that aspect. She knew as well as he did why "climbing up the ladder" was important. But to have her own brother risking his life the way he was about to always felt like it was all too much. It was a kind of gamble, with lives on the line, his and their small, broken family included.
Still smiling, he'd said "Come on, Iris. Have a little faith. What does the good book say? God is my shield or something?"
She felt her hands ball into fists as she darkly threw the Word back at him.
"Do not put the Lord your God to the test."
"Iris, you get quite scary when you want to be. You sure you're not a proper Volksarmee officer?"
The small, quiet voice snapped her back to the present.
"Good morning, captain."
She was surprised to see Anett behind her, the girl wiped at her eyes as she approached.
"Lieutenant." Irisdina spoke simply, emotions in check and tone neutral. Forcefully, perhaps, but Anett did not comment.
"I was wondering if… if there are no other sorties-"
Oh, don't even think about flying today.
"The battle's over, lieutenant. We won. Our airframes have been pushed to their limit and need heavy maintenance. No sorties today." She said instead.
Anett did not immediately respond to that statement, though Irisdina heard the girl's breathing audibly relaxed somewhat.
"Then… would it be alright for me to take Inghilde's things to her family?"
Irisdina stood, and without turning to her, said "That is not the responsibility of lieutenants. But if you wish for some leave, I can put in a good word for you."
"N-no, I… I don't need the leave. I can't afford it. Inghilde…" Anett paused, then frowned, "Even after you prayed… or after you told her to hold off… after I tried to call her off she still…"
The sense of loss was not unfamiliar to Irisdina, nor the desire for revenge or the toll it took. But she was an officer, not a child thrust into a war of annihilation. Not anymore, at least. Still, she understood all too well, and acted accordingly, all without once looking at Anett in the eye.
"I understand, Lieutenant. I'll see what I can do. Now get some rest."
"Y-yes, ma'am!" Anett said quietly and complied without another word.
Washington, DC, USA
11:00 PM
President Reagan adjusted his tie whilst the frizzy-haired lady gave him a once-over and touched up any blemishes that might imply he wasn't as energetic as anyone else would be under the circumstances.
"All done, mister President." She said simply.
"Thank you, Lilian." He said with a smile that he would maintain as he went in front of the cameras.
It wasn't every day he got to deliver good news like this. As he stepped onto the podium and camera flashes and clicks assaulted his ears, his smile did not waver. He prepared the papers he'd already memorized and waited for a few seconds to give the report.
"Good evening. Just a few hours ago, we received major updates regarding the progress on the European front. Operation Eastern Shield, the follow-up to Operation Scalpel, was carried out over the last twenty-four hours. Tonight, I can confirm that the counterattack by BETA forces in Poland was repelled by combined NATO and Warsaw Pact forces."
He waited a moment, as more flashes and clicks from cameras started, but he was perhaps just as excited as the journalists in the room, who for once, held their tongues in anticipation of any caveats.
"But more importantly, I am pleased to confirm that, Objective Six, the hive in Szczezin, was indeed captured by our forces."
There was a pause. No more than a second, but it was palpable as the reporters seemed to hesitate to ask.
"Fully captured?" a man from CBS braved to ask before any of his colleagues.
"Fully captured." He repeated with a smile and emphasis on the word "fully".
The room of professional reporters briefly erupted in small-scale applause, though most remained in wide-eyed disbelief as they took down notes. More camera flashes, a few eager hands hesitating to shoot up just yet but being placed to do so.
"Indeed, while I cannot share all the details, we were able to clear Objective Six within the eight days of surrounding it thanks to new weapons. War Winners, our departments like to call them."
Not miracle weapons, of course…
"While more will most definitely follow, tonight we thank our forces, and those of our allies, from NATO to the United Nations, to the armies of the Warsaw Pact forces. This could not have been accomplished without a united front. And I would like to extend my condolences to the families of those lost in combat this last week. More will follow, but I will take a few questions now."
11:35 PM
"Well, that wasn't so difficult, now was it? They looked too stunned to really say much." He said with a laugh as he wiped some sweat from his forehead, the white handkerchief came away somewhat stained with makeup, but he didn't particularly mind.
The Director of Central Intelligence nodded, then said "It is incredibly good news, mister president."
President Reagan paused, noting something in the man's tone that didn't quite feel right.
"Is there a caveat to our success overseas, Casey?"
"No, sir, but our operations to…" he lowered his voice as they walked into the war room, "...to ensure things work in our favor within the GDR lie in the balance now."
"Why is that?"
"This Soviet weapon… Barchenowa… we have reason to believe she was put on the front line alongside East German troops. We're looking but, we have no way to confirm she survived just yet."
"Damn."
It was all he said as they entered the elevator. The doors closed and it began to descend. President Reagan adjusted his tie as he spoke again.
"And this Crucifix situation?"
"Standing by. We may have to fall back on it. The bright side is that she seems to have shown some interest in cooperating."
"Has she now?"
"Yes, sir."
The president nodded slowly, then said "Well then let's shift the balance, shall we?"
Szczecin, Polish People's Republic
Outskirts of Objective Six, Point Bravo
US Army's First Armored, Alpha Red One, "Asian Persuasion"
"We still have thirty sabot rounds left. The Two-Forty-Bravo wasn't used, so we're looking alright for the time being, sir."
"Yeah, unless they swarm us again."
His gunner didn't argue. Alfred Walken glanced at the crater-filled landscape. The sun was still high up as the day advanced.
He then said, "I'll go check with the logistic boys. See if we can get a few more rounds."
Asian Persuasion's crew turned to him with a knowing look. Gulf glanced at the radio once but said nothing.
"Alright, sarge." was the sole response he got.
Sergeant Alfred Walken walked away without another word. Surveying the battlefield, he watched a squadron of low-flying Swedish Saab 35 Drakens fly eastward. Their silhouettes seemed to shadow the guns of his M1 Abrams, also pointed East. His tanks sat in the sloped trench that had comfortably held in much smaller Warsaw Pact tanks, but now awkwardly fitted his platoon. It truly had been fascinating seeing the variety of aircraft in the air during the battle. Ten years prior they would've all if not most been shot down. Now they flew almost as carefree as they had prior to the arrival of the BETA. Only that much closer to the ground.
By now, the United Nations volunteer forces, mainly Finland and Sweden as far as he could see, were pushing in to assist with medical and support roles. It was their trucks and medics driving further down the line as opposed to his forces which now took the positions of and relieved the very beleaguered Warsaw Pact battalions. Most of whom were the GDR's Volksarmee.
Behind him, American trucks were handing out food as they allowed the 7th Panzers a much-needed break. His Abrams and Bradleys now held the ridgeline with M60s in support, the trenches were empty of men, only mounts of spent casings remaining inside them, alongside the ever-present stench of death and gunpowder.
His guys were mainly resting atop their tank, taking stock of things while their eyes remained partly fixed on the horizon as the SAAB 35s flew on. Same as their guns. The restless expression in them was one that, internally, he understood perfectly well. They'd only engaged the disorganized remnants of a BETA herd that had been ripped to shreds on a combined East-West coalition's firepower, and they were waiting for any surprises that might come out from the invaders.
And yet, he had to put all that aside.
For Alfred Walken, his target was sitting next to some East German tank crew, enjoying some good old-fashioned hot chocolate, while their commanders discussed things. It didn't particularly concern him, but he had to admire that even now, with Europe under threat, with so much of Asia under BETA control, and with mankind somewhat combining its efforts after the failure of Palailogos, there were still schemes and back-door works to be done.
The silver-haired girl occasionally snuck a glance in his direction as he walked towards the logistics trucks. Their eyes met briefly. Then, just as quickly, she turned away.
He tried an experiment there and then.
Barchenowa?
The girl perked up and glanced directly at him. Her eyes were expectant, as though she'd heard his thought, but he knew better. No, it wasn't like the movies. Her kind didn't "hear" thoughts. Not exactly.
The Polish tankers beside her noticed but said nothing.
…
American chocolate was not as good as he thought it'd be. It was sweet and all, but it felt oddly artificial. The wrapping advertised something that he expected but didn't quite get as he chewed it.
Vivi didn't seem to mind, and neither did the other kids of the Volksarmee's 8th Panzer. The Western servicemen weren't so much chatting with their Eastern counterparts, but they were handing out the munitions provided by Berlin. Western ammo would make its way next, he knew, but until then the rounds they'd brought would be for them to use in case of a sudden attack, with the Western tanks in support for the most part. But the mission would now change for the West, he knew. The United Nations volunteers would primarily be handed de facto control as the Warsaw Pact rebuilt around the reclaimed territory and made new fortifications against the Minsk Hive. He wondered if the Westerners would leave then or if some other solution would be reached.
As he pondered this, the American tank commander, Alpha Red One, walked over.
"Howdy." the man called, raising a hand.
Kurt glanced behind them, making sure Lieutenant Quilnheim wasn't watching them. To his delight, the young lieutenant was more than a little distracted, a cup of western coffee as she chatted with another tanker, laughing like the school girl she would have been had the BETA not arrived in Europe. More importantly, she wasn't looking at them.
So, he glanced towards the American tanker and nodded with a polite "Guten Tag."
The American however, while smiling at him the entire time, kept sneaking looks at the white-haired T-72 driver. The girl eyed him, wide-eyed.
"Chocolate's good?" the American asked in very good German.
"Yeah…" Kurt mumbled back.
Andrej suddenly called from the T-72, "Could use more milk."
The American nodded, and said, "I will pass it up the chain of command."
"Hey, Andrzej?" it was Heinz who spoke in a whisper.
The Polish sergeant glanced at the gunner, picking up the suitcase from their T-72.
Heinz whispered, "I think this guy is staring at your girl."
Private Jakub muttered something, then stood up, arms on his sides, eyes ever-vigilant.
Kurt frowned. The tension had ratcheted up suddenly in their small section, with only Vivi continuing to remain blissfully unaware. The American hadn't said anything else, not that he'd heard, but something about the way he was eyeing the Polish girl specifically put him on alert.
"Sergeant, I told you if we survived I'd tell you what was so important about this briefcase?"
Kurt turned to Andrzej, as did Vivi, suddenly invested.
Andrzej placed the suitcase down and eyed the American once, then nodded. The tanker nodded back, then did an about-face and walked off, not quite casually but not so urgently that he would draw attention.
Andrzej then said "Barchenowa is special. I will not bore you with the details, but her being where she is was no accident."
Vivi winced, then in a tone just above a whisper asked, "Did you sabotage your tank?"
"No, that was pure bad luck. Our original plan was to leave our tank here for you and make our exit more quietly."
Kurt had to stop him there.
"Sergeant, this is… there are very dangerous implications behind what you just said."
"Implications? Like what? Treason?" the man scoffed, then with a detached smile as he opened the briefcase, said "Treason to what? We've only taken so much of our country back and it's only so usable. Meanwhile, the rest of the land will take decades to fix if not centuries. The bastards in Moscow didn't care, nor did their puppets, so why should we care if we are betraying them?"
Kurt darkly hissed back "Because the people who saved your sorry ass might just get burnt!"
"You won't." He said, taking a syringe and moving to Barchenowa. The girl nodded and lifted up her sleeve.
"W-what are you doing?" Heinz asked, only now able to speak.
Private Jakub said, "Don't worry about it."
Andrzej whispered "Tylko ci, którzy wiedzą."
Barchenowa nodded, then stood up and shut her eyes tightly. Jakub moved over and held her hand as Andrzej turned back to them with a detached smile.
"They won't remember us. Know that much. After all, what are three more dead among so many?"
Kurt could only stare as the white-haired girl seemed to struggle where she stood as if something was weighing on her. Her shoulders shook, her legs quaked, and her hands twitched as though in great pain as Jakub took her hand. Then her eyes shot open to the point they might have popped right from their sockets as she stared at Lieutenant Qilnheim, the young lieutenant oblivious. The only reaction was that she seemed to scratch the side of her head ever so slightly whilst she continued speaking to the other man.
"What… what are you?" Heinz asked shakily.
Andrzej said, "I said I will not bore you with the details, but at least I hope you understand."
Kurt huffed as the American tanker walked over.
"So you're betraying us and running to the west, is that it? All with some… some kind of super drug?" Vivi shakily asked.
"Not exactly, but yes, we are fleeing west."
The American handed them several cards, then stood back.
"After we saved you, you're just… just leaving us to die?"
Private Jakub only said "No. But if we remained with the East then you would have died eventually."
"Ah, so you think the West can save us against the BETA." Kurt said, suddenly allowing himself a smile.
"I suppose that's one way to look at things."
Kurt glanced at the American, who appeared almost confused. His expression was hard as he eyed the men. Then he relaxed it slightly.
"Alright, but we want more chocolates, and some proper beer, alright?"
Vivi looked at him like he was crazy, so he added "To buy our silence, of course."
Andrzej laughed dryly but nodded.
"Kurt, what are-?"
"Relax, Vivi… whatever it is, it does not concern us."
"But, what-?"
"Your sergeant is a smart man, kid. You'll do well in listening to him. And uh…" he turned to the returning American.
The American walked over and said "Walken."
"Yes, um… sergeant Walken… can you arrange for my friends a little payment?"
The American kept his eyes on the nearby Volksarmee officers as he said in surprisingly good German, "Yeah, I can get you guys some goods. But we have to move now. Window's closing."
Jakub led Barchenowa away, and Andzej said "Thank you, sergeant. Have a good life."
Kurt sighed as the American tanker brought back a cooler from his tank, and the mysterious Poles disappeared behind a supply truck. The American handed them some real beer and candy which were impossible to get in DDR, but he really could not help but wonder who these mysterious tankers from Poland had been.
The fact no one seemed to miss them when they were gone was only all the more intriguing.
But he and his crew had survived, their damaged T-72 was still operational, and for the time being, there were many other things to worry about as it seemed that, for the first time, mankind really was commencing a counterattack against the invaders that plagued them. So they sat in silence and kept enjoying their goods for the day.
Holzdorf Air Base, German Democratic Republic
Why?
That was the lone question David Elroy's mind internally kept on repeat as he watched the man from the Ministry for State Security arrive alongside an entourage of uniformed men. The Americans and their German counterparts had been gathered in one of the only empty hangars, their grays and greens differentiating them as they waited for news, air crews sat by nervously, and he could just faintly sense a tension in the air.
Why are they here?
Silently, his gaze turned to Irisdina who held a stern, unmoving expression. He wondered if there was something important that she'd neglected to mention. Something important that pertained to the present situation, at least. He doubted it would do him much good either way and turned back to the man in gray who greeted them with a warm smile that chilled him. It was an artificial warmth. One that masked a danger in the expression of a man who could, if so desired, make anyone there disappear without a trace.
"Good morning." He spoke in German.
Lieutenant Colonel Heinz Axmann was a slender man. His dirt-red hair was the most notable bit of color on an otherwise gray-and-white uniform of the dreaded Stasi. They'd all heard rumors of the German Democratic Republic's Ministry of State Security. Monsters who gave the KGB a run for their money and perhaps surpassed them in terms of brutality.
Allegedly.
But here the man was smiling as he stood next to the Luftwaffe major and Captain Lambert. Irisdina's face remained stone-cold as there were several informal nods as no one had been called to attention and most of the ground crews were even sitting down. It was almost as casual as a meeting of a local football club.
Axmann said "We first wish to give condolences to the pilots of the six-hundred-sixty-sixth Luftstreitkräfte wing. Lieutenant Inghilde Bronikowski died a heroine to the state and humanity. We wish to extend our condolences to her squadmates and her family. Captain Bernhard, I suppose you will be headed to deliver the news of her death in person?"
"If permissible, then yes."
"I…"
All eyes turned to the remaining rookie pilot of the 666th, Anett Hosenfeld. She puffed her chest slightly as she stood ramrod straight. Even then she looked so small.
"I-I would like to deliver her things." she stammered out.
Axmann only said "Of course. You and Captain Bernhard have our gratitude after all. We must congratulate you all on helping achieve victory in Szczecin. The operation went beyond all expectations and we now the armies of humanity have a firm hold on Objective Six."
David noted that no one cheered.
There were a few relieved looks on some of the pilots, some nods, a WSO patting another on the back, but no more. Everyone was too tired. Drained. An entire day of constant sorties with the only breaks being made up of maintenance of their aircraft, which only served to add more anxiety to everyone, East or West. Flying so low to the ground close to the speed of sound, the necessary maneuvers for a chance at surviving if one was acquired, the shaken nerves once weapons were dropped or an increase in altitude was necessary…
Axmann did not harp on it and instead said "So for today there will be rest for all. We have some more news to give, of course, but those can wait. Well done, pilots."
Behind him several men carried in crates that were all too familiar to the Americans and West Germans.
"Both our leaders and our friends in the West have provided some pleasantries. Enjoy!"
11:45 AM
"I gotta hand it to them, The GDR at least knows how to keep its troops happy when it counts." Martins muttered sarcastically as he sipped the transported Sierra while continuing to read The Gunslinger.
David glanced at the older pilots, who in contrast with the younger ones, were standing around the hangar silently. Well, most of the pilots were just enjoying the small comforts of Western food and drinks they'd been granted for the day, and he could see the subtle uncertainty of the East Germans to take part in any of it.
Irisdina stood by herself, one arm crossed under her chest as she waited for Lieutenant Anett to pick up Inghilde's things. Her other pilots stood in segregated corners, the pilots in a circle, the ground crews in another, and the men from the Stasi in a third. The Luftwaffe pilots sat around, chatting with some of the F-15 pilots and ground crews, but the East Germans kept an impenetrable shield amongst themselves now. He saw Captain Lambert approach Iris and say something to her. She replied something he didn't hear, but it was punctuated with a shrug as she continued to eye the world outside in silence. His captain then returned to the table of goodies brought along, grabbed another Sierra which he held onto without a word.
David sighed audible enough that Martins noted, which was on purpose.
"Don't do something stupid." He muttered.
"I know. A part of me wants to talk to her is all." He said quietly.
"Look, you were boyfriend and girlfriend when you were six."
"Swing and a miss on both counts."
"And hey, maybe you have feelings for her."
"Not like that."
"And she's a real-life, living, breathing, honey trap warning poster!" Martins hissed.
"And there's the rub..." David admitted, not revealing the little extra that he knew.
"Exactly. So, here, enjoy the small mercies, and maybe I'll lend you Gunslinger when I'm done with it." he handed him another beer, which David took without a complaint and immediately drank up, doing his best to ignore the buzz urging him to start a chat once more.
As Martins finished his own, he said "Although, I guess I can give these people one thing. Camaraderie is tight. Probably needs to be given the situation but… Y'know what? Given the odds they've been facing for so long, it's impressive that they bother to socialize at all."
David nodded.
"Leutnant David Elroy, ja?" a minuscule voice said to their right.
Both he and Martins glanced at the tiny Luftwaffe Wizzo. Katia Waldheim's massive amber-colored eyes stared back at them like a lost puppy's, her light brown hair tied in a neat ponytail, and her hands clasped together as if in prayer.
David said, "Uh, yes?"
Martins growled, "You idiot."
"Oh, right, uh… sorry. Nich spich Deutch."
Katia deadpanned and continued in German anyway.
"I understand you and Captain Bernhard were friends when you were little, right?"
"Where'd you hear that?" Martins blurted out in English, not bothering to downplay the hostility behind his tone.
Katia didn't seem to register it as she replied simply, "I overheard some of the pilots say it during the down hours."
After a half second, she must have realized how her choice of words sounded, and she quickly tried to correct herself.
"I-I just want to… talk… to… her."
"Why? To start some revolt?"
She winced.
David swallowed what was left of his can of Sierra and said "Alright, look…" he stabbed a finger in her direction, "I don't know what you're trying to pull, but my advice? Drop it. This isn't West Germany." then, lowering his voice, "You won't get a polite disagreement, alright? You'll get blacklisted, isolated, and maybe shot, so listen to the local's advice and cause no trouble, lieutenant… Waldheim?"
Katia stiffened, frowning at him as she opened her mouth to argue.
She was not given the chance.
"Hey, is she bothering you?"
Circe Steinhoffe walked over, her hair untied, hands on her waist as she eyed the smaller girl darkly despite her more relaxed demeanor.
Martins grumbled something to the affirmative but David answered anyway.
"Yes, a bit. What's up with her? Spouting her politics is one thing, but wanting to preach to a DDR officer?"
"Officer? You mean the 666th's captain Bernhard?"
Katia gave an abashed, "Yes."
Circe sighed, then patted the top of the girl's head as she spoke, "Ja, she's our special case." then to Waldheim, "He's right, come on, lieutenant."
"But-"
A touch angry, David lowered his voice to a hiss and said "Kid, they lost a pilot yesterday. We were lucky enough that we didn't lose any of our pilots, but they did. Learn to read the Goddamned room."
Katia glared daggers at him, then followed Circe away without another word.
Martins huffed, then in plain old American English, said "Good job, Elroy. Took the words right outta my mouth."
David sighed and went quiet.
"Did I sense you projecting some anger in that last line?"
He did not reply, instead watching as Irisdina and Annett walked out of the hangar. He wasn't sure if he imagined that her blue eyes met his again as she walked off.
A part of him doubted it mattered.
Berlin
"So, what do you think of that American kid?" Jurgen Bernhard had asked while looking over his copy of Neues Deutschland.
"He's rather strange." she had replied, serving her brother his tea.
"Strange?"
"As though he wants to talk but never does unless he's certain no one else can hear. But when it's just us he does not shut up."
"Well, that probably means he likes you."
"I suppose." she had conceded, then changed the topic, "What about you and Beatrix?"
"Oh, she's doing alright, I guess."
She noted the concern in his voice but did not pry further. Instead, she finished serving her own tea and sat down for their morning routine. It was strange to have to work with an American student when the Americans technically did not even recognize them as a nation. Yet.
The American president had visited the People's Republic of China, which did give an image of tensions being eased between the two major power blocs in the world. However, she wondered if it was in actuality an attempt at pitting the Chinese Reds against the Russian Reds. The West could be quite treacherous, after all. Whilst her mind milled about in silence, Jurgen continued to read Neues Deutschland.
It was, of course, just a distraction from their current situation.
"Alright, thank you for the meal! I will be heading out to see Father."
"Don't forget to give him-"
"Yeah, I got it!" Jurgen called back, showing her the cooked meal she'd prepared.
She smiled as he said, "Now go on, and, uh… let me know how he behaves, too."
"Yes, brother."
"I mean it. He tries anything, he's going to regret it."
She smiled at him, and said "Of course!"
"Alright, take care, Iris."
"Captain Bernhard?"
Irisdina's eyes flicked open, and she took her surroundings in quickly.
Train. Lieutenant Hosenfeld. Right… Berlin.
"Sorry, but the next stop is… um… sorry to wake you, captain!" Anett spoke with uncertainty.
"That is quite alright. Thank you, Lieutenant," she replied, stretching.
There were very few people aboard the car. Some civilians sat on a few seats ahead of them in the passenger line, all reading the news and all appropriately reserved. The train's car, like all others, appeared eerily hollow, as though it would fall apart any second in spite of the workers who built it. The German landscape sped past them with as much indifference as the state. Irisdina rubbed at her eyes but felt that Annett wanted to talk to her.
The girl was eyeing her still, hands fiddling with Inghilde's belongings. The rucksack was held by hands that she could see shook every so often. They fiddled with the straps, froze, then shifted again. She wouldn't pry.
Anett finally said "Captain?"
"Yes?"
"Um…" she looked around, uncertain.
"Are you worried about listening devices, Lieutenant Hosenfeld?"
The girl said nothing.
Irisdina sighed, then quietly said, "The train's movements will obscure any of them, so don't worry about it for the moment."
The young pilot looked at her wide-eyed.
"I will also keep your thoughts to heart, lieutenant. If you wish to speak, feel free to do so now."
Anett sucked in a breath, then asked "Captain, why do you wear that rosary?"
Irisdina raised an eyebrow.
Even more unsure now, Anett said "Christianity… it's not entirely illegal, but… the opioid of the masses… and whatnot."
"Does it make you uncomfortable?"
"N-no, ma'am! I'm even grateful you, uh…" she lowered her voice to a whisper, "That you prayed for us yesterday. I just…"
Bluntly, she asked in an even quieter tone that Irisdina just barely caught.
"Do you have plans to go against the state, captain?"
Irisdina turned to the window and saw the land speed by.
"I'm a dog of the Stasi, lieutenant. Haven't you heard?"
"I heard. The girls with the ground crew told me, but… I never asked you."
"How many people here do you think work for the Ministry of State Security, lieutenant? Why would you need me to tell you I work for the Stasi?"
Without skipping a beat, Anett asked "Well, why did you order me to give the American a letter asking him to meet you out in the forest?"
Irisdina smiled.
"I told you explicitly not to read that, did I not?"
Anett shrank in her seat, not denying her disobedience.
Irisdina leaned slightly forward, then said "But I suppose that doesn't matter. After all, what would happen if you took that note to someone like Comrade Commissar Jeckeln?"
She let the implication hang in the air.
Annett asked, "So, you took advantage of Inghilde and I?"
Irisdina did not reply.
"But then, does that mean you are plotting something with the Americans? That you aren't a member of the Stasi but rather…"
Irisdina sighed and reached for her crucifix.
She looked at it as she spoke, knowing there was a longing that seeped into her words, "It's hard to trust people here. One is incentivized to tell on those closest to them. It is why the Stasi remains so effective. They do not rely solely on true believers, but on the fact that anyone can be an informant for them. Anyone."
Anett blurted out "And you want to change that?"
Irisdina smiled as the train began to slow down as they reached the station.
"I… I want to help!"
"Keep those thoughts to yourself." She spoke firmly as she stood up.
However, as the train squealed to a halt, its hinges protesting and the announcer speaking that they had arrived, Irisdina said one last thing.
"Be Shrewed as snakes, but as innocent as doves."
The train stopped, and Annett nodded to her. Quietly, she picked up Inghilde's belongings and followed her captain out of the train and onto Berlin.
The second they were on the street, bustling crowds walked past them. Not quite jubilant, but there was excitement in the air, and thus no chance of a listening device being around, at least not one that could threaten them, Anett asked her question.
"What did that mean?"
With a smile, she said "Saint Matthew ten-sixteen. The Lord tells those who follow him that they must be astute and innocent since we are sheep in a land of wolves."
"Captain, talk like that could get you arrested if that means what I think it means." Anett mumbled just over the sounds that filled the streets of Berlin they walked on.
"Lieutenant, it's a matter of fact that the German Democratic Republic is not the socialist utopia its leaders like to preach about. If we want to change that, then we must work for it in an intelligent way. Only then can things improve and we can prevent the needless deaths of those we care for."
Anett seemed to find the ground of particular interest upon hearing those words.
"Inghilde was the one protecting me. She signed up when she didn't have to."
Irisdina shook her head as they walked on. Such it went. Anett was one of many cases of the same thing happening. Friends enlisting for some reason or other. Patriotism, need for security, money, adventure; it mattered not. Losses were still high. Volunteering for dangerous operations for added promises of care for loved ones could only get so much done.
"Her family was able to move to Berlin thanks to her. I… I don't know what they'll do now."
Irisdina said, "All we can do is help them by changing the DDR itself."
Annett nodded, a determined glimmer in her eyes as they walked down the now somewhat cleaner streets of Berlin.
Objective Six
2nd Lieutenant James Clark watched the crews working behind him. His TSF's cameras and radar scanned the surrounding openings, or… mouths. Each time he eyed one, he made sure his GAU-8 was also pointed at it, and his mind already had a count on his remaining ammunition.
The chamber or stab, or, hell, a malevolent chapel to an unknown god that they now occupied was well lit, with UN and Warsaw Pact crews operating entirely on foot in all the protective gear they could have brought down. The floors were covered not in dirt, but in a strange, glowing, green gel. It wasn't radioactive, but he wasn't about to risk touching it or exiting his TSF until it had gotten a thorough clean-up.
Above them, the "roof" and walls had massive openings. One had been the one where he and Master Two had burst through in order to capture the strange thing that seemed to have been the heart of the hive.
He couldn't fully understand all the radio chatter, but it seemed his suspicions were correct.
Still, from where he stood, the surroundings were truly those built by inhuman hands. Everything appeared to be eerily organic. As if the hive itself had once been alive and now they stood in a massive, open carcass of some impossibly large organism. Bacteria breaking a corpse down.
The crackle of the radio interrupted his thoughts.
"Masters One to Three, how're you boys holding up?"
"Doing great, sir!" they all replied at once.
"Good to hear. If all goes well, boys, we'll be moving you back topside in a few. Just sit tight. You've earned a fine rest back home once this is done."
And a good long bath…
"Kontakt!"
It was one of the Volksarmee troops, and it wasn't meant for him.
An emotionless voice replied back in stiff German.
"Anerkannt."
The voice then switched to English with a heavy Russian accent, "Master One, you see the BETA?"
James ignored the Spetznaz officer for a moment as he searched on his radio. The walls were clear on his end, so he shifted his TSF quickly, and… there!
"Master Two, wake up, you got several contacts, mainly warrior-class, bearing two-three-zero"
"Got it! All stations, we have incoming BETA, numbering… damn it… Maybe five?"
Two was awake, but his radar had been malfunctioning. He was surprised the Warsaw Pact's seismic sensors had detected anything in time, but then again, they'd been the ones dealing with the BETA for the past decade.
The Spetzanz and Volksarmee troops raised their Kalshnikovs, but more importantly, their six SPG-9s as a low rumbling could be heard. The inspectors stood in place as everyone waited in tense anticipation for the creatures to appear.
It was only four of them. They stumbled out of the mouth and crawled down the slimy walls. The tank class strains appeared a sickly green in the glow of the room and light. But it was their movements that gave them away further. As though they were out of energy or…
The Tactical Surface Fighters didn't bother engaging. James didn't hear the order to fire, but he saw the fin-stabilized rockets shoot straight and hit each of the BETA strains with deadly accuracy. The high explosive anti-tank charges tore the creatures to pieces as they crawled on the walls. They all fell to the ground like chunks of raw meat.
"Good job, captain…" he muttered over the net as he saw the smoke rise.
The Russian only said, "Same to your men."
At least we can get along when it counts…
…
Gretel Jeckeln watched from a distance as the cameramen snapped photos of the metal monsters that had captured the Sczezin Hive. Their T-55s and surviving T-72s stood silently by, but they were of no interest anymore to these Western journalists. Oh, they wore helmets and flak vests, and she was sure they also carried firearms, but they had not done any fighting that she had seen.
Major Hannibal was speaking over the radio to Berlin. Perhaps giving some reports. Perhaps something else. She took one glance at the mountain of littered shell casings in the trenches that made up the final line in Point "Delta". The artillery had fired until some barrels simply exploded from overuse. The maimed crews had graciously already been evacuated, and as UN and NATO forces reinforced their positions…
With deepening melancholy, she sighed and picked up her things. Her hand was shaking still. She had not had to fire a shot, and yet…
She forced herself to remain composed.
The American Green Berets stood in the distance, silent as always. Everyone was watching the new weapons. The "war winners" were now able to be seen up close.
What a joke.
They had sent in eight. Into a hive that, for all intents and purposes, was brand new. They still lost two of them. These were weapons built out of an odd mixture of desperation and necessity. Unlike the tanks or aircraft she had seen the West bring forth, the so-called Tactical Surface Fighters almost seemed like death traps. Too many moving parts, insanely complex, and if they got pinned by a tank or even a crew with anti-tank weaponry, they would be too bulky to escape.
But against the BETA…
"They did their job." she heard one of the officers call out to the journalists. The words made her want to sob.
Meanwhile, she could see the damage done to their machines in the fields of what had once been Poland. They had barely held the line. Trenches full of shattered bodies and vehicles. If not those, then they were riddled with spent casings.
"You did your job, too, comrade commissar." Major Hannibal said, patting her on the shoulder.
"I wish I could have done more than my job."
"You are still young, comrade commissar. Plenty of time for that. And good news, you can head back to your post."
She questioned it not, instead said "Right. Thank you for the cooperation, comrade major." She muttered.
I was sent here to remind everyone who's in charge…
It was with a heavy heart that she gave a final salute to Major Hannibal and turned to the nearest supply truck. The men under his command, the boys with minor injuries, the girls that still clung to rifles too large for them, the final line that had almost been needed. They would be relieved, but would still have to remain there as the land was consolidated back into the hold of mankind.
She thought back to Scalpel and how Irisdina had been the only one to return, all to make a point.
Bernhard, some days I think your brother should have succeeded…
Holzdorf Air Base
6:34 PM
It had been an infuriatingly tense day.
It was meant to be a day to relax, but as the officers of the Stasi remained by, their gaze fixed on them and the Western pilots, there had been very little true rest. At the same time, they had to pretend they were enjoying themselves. If they weren't, that might imply they had done something wrong, after all.
Somehow, the feeling got worse when his captain and the Hosenfeld brat returned.
Now, as Walter Kruger droned to their ground crew about a time when some kid courted some girl back in the "good old days" before the BETA arrived, Theodore Eberbach did his best to pretend to be interested.
He knew the Westerners could be greedy, but the amount of sweets and drinks they'd been allowed to bring in was almost dizzying. He'd been unsure if he should have bothered with what was offered at all given the watchful eye of the Stasi, but when that bitch Bernhard politely took a bottle of some American brand of soft drink, "New Diet Coke", he knew he wouldn't partake in it whatsoever. It was bad enough some of the Americans had brought a stereo and were playing state-sanctioned music on it. Right by the table full of tempting sweets. Certainly, this was a trap for whatever surviving pilots of the 666th had loyalty issues. Doubtlessly so.
I wonder how that coke tastes like… no, damn it! Don't think about that!
He'd already been on the receiving end of such a trial before. No need to repeat it.
He instead quietly watched as Sylwia Krzasińska for once smiled as Walter finished his story. No drink on hand, no sweets from the West, and no real food or sign that anyone was having a jolly old time like the Americans. No, nothing but loyal socialists here.
Which he wasn't, to be truthful.
Curiously, the bratty Besser-Wessis looked troubled.
The short girl certainly embodied that attitude many in the DDR feared the West Germans had. Unable to find allies or people willing to deal with her rants about unity in the fact of a larger threat, she was instead sitting quietly by the group of much taller Luftwaffe pilots.
"So happy endings can happen." Walter sighed, then glanced at him, "Sometimes we need to remember that, eh, Lieutenant Eberbach?"
Theodore nodded absentmindedly.
His mind drifted to that dreadful night three years prior. The coldness of the winter air as his adopted father tried, tried so damn hard to smuggle them across the border. The sudden bright flash of floodlights, the brief attempt at bargaining, the disappointed look on the border guards, and the fact the cold fear in his heart made him shiver far more than the cold night's air as they ripped them away from one another.
Big brother!
Their final moments together had been recreating their escape attempt for Stasi cameras. The screams of the young girl he was meant to keep safe caused a pang of guilt to bite at his conscious. He felt his lip quiver slightly. Her hand had held onto his so tightly that even if he'd wanted to let her go he couldn't have as she trembled in terror at the large guards who picked her up and separated them forever. He could still feel that same, frightened grip.
Theodore glanced at the hand gripping his all of a sudden, which brought him to the present all too suddenly.
He had to blink away tears to see that the short Besser-Wessis was tugging at his sleeves, having materialized next to him in his moment of reflection.
All too aware of the Stasi eyes of the bitch of a captain that commanded them, this time he learned to rip away the hands from the western girl as he barked an angrier than he intended "What the hell do you want?!"
Katia recoiled, frightened, as she shakily managed to say "I-I just… I wanted to know if you'd like… s-something? Chocolate maybe? We got some Belgian chocolates! They help me a lot when I'm feeling down!" she finished with a smile that was too obviously forced.
All of his comrades' eyes were on the girl now. Walter had stopped talking. Bernhard had stopped sipping her Western drink. Yet, unexpectedly, Krzasińska came to his rescue.
"What is it with your insistence on causing us a headache!?" the Polish woman growled a little too loudly.
The chatter in the hangar quieted slightly.
Theodore didn't care, he eyed the short West German with a glare of indifference, but deep down… deep down, what?
"Alright, that's enough, Lieutenant."
That voice sent a chill down his spine as the eyes of the Stasi Colonel not only met his but his hand was raised in a non-threatening manner.
"Major Balck..." Axmann said with a glance to the Luftwaffe Major who was in charge of the squadron stationed with them.
The man was tall, almost frightening, yet he seemed subdued as he walked over next to the agent of the Stasi. He gave an almost disappointed look at the girl, then, in a voice that was loud enough for the others to hear, spoke calmly and clearly.
"The Luftwaffe squadrons stationed here will be returning to Rammstein tomorrow."
Theodore felt his eyes widen involuntarily as the man continued.
"We have done our duty as needed, and as the front has stabilized there is no need for our presence here. With further operations on hold, we will be returning home for the time being. Good job, Hucklebein Squadron!"
No one bought the congratulatory statement. There was simply too much tension behind it despite the man's outwardly calm expression. The Stasi standing nearby, the confused look on the American pilots, and of course, the girl.
"W-what?" the girl blurted out suddenly.
"Be ready to depart by 0700. That will be all." He said simply, then stepped back.
"W-wait, major, I-" the girl began, then fell silent as her gaze turned slowly to the Stasi agents.
Colonel Axmann eyed her for a moment, then said "If there is something you wish to say, you may do so now, lieutenant."
"I…"
She quietly eyed the surrounding pilots and crews, friendly and not, and seemed to fill with a resolve Theodore had only seen a few times before. Her commander's mouth opened to stop her, but it was too late, and the girl's plan was put into motion. She somehow stood straighter, taller; she puffed up her chest and spoke a lot louder than he'd ever heard her.
Like all idealistic plans, he was certain it was doomed to failure.
"I need the pilots here to know that I am not who I said I was."
This seemed to even surprise Axmann, and the Luftwaffe Major's hand went to his forehead as if some degree of disappointment was causing a headache. Still, everyone held their bated breaths as they watched the girl steady herself and commence her rebuttal.
Katia still continued, rapidly saying "My real name is Ursula Strachwitz, daughter of Volksarmee General and hero, Alfred Strachwitz!"
"Yes, we're aware."
Axmann had spoken the instant the words were out of her mouth, and Theodore felt his heart sink alongside the girl's expression. For all the bravado, for all the resolve, and for all the stupid courage it took for someone as small as that frail-looking kid to say what she had, it mattered not to those of the Ministry for State Security. And yet, the girl tried to persist.
"I-if you know who I am, then surely you are aware of what my father intended for the future of the two Germanies!"
"Your father, the traitor, yes." Axmann spoke firmly and without skipping a beat.
That was the death blow. The lone word that signaled to all of the DDR's pilots to turn away and shun her, but even then she persisted.
Suddenly angry, she tried to match the man's calmness. But the words appeared to have hit a nerve, and she failed to remain composed as she blurted out "Traitor?! Believing a united Germany was viable does not make him a traitor!"
"No, but sending his daughter to the West and trying to cooperate in a coup certainly does."
"But-"
"He wasn't special, little girl. Captain Bernhard's brother was equally a traitor, and many of the Warsaw Pact's commanding officers turned into traitors that horrid year. His beliefs, like the beliefs of all who came before him, were just the dreams of fascists who wished to destabilize our democratic republic and enforce a tyranny of their own regardless if it cost lives in the face of the advancing BETA."
Theodore glanced at Irisdina Bernhard.
The dog of the Stasi did not react at all to the man's words. She, like his comrades, hid whatever reactions the situation sparked all too well. Only Anett appeared remotely surprised. Even if he believed they all expected this overly naive brat to be hiding something, her persistence was somewhat admirable, and he allowed himself to stare with disdain. The Westerners were another story altogether. He could see the Americans were all wide-eyed to some degree as if surprised though more concerned of what might come next, but the Luftwaffe pilots appeared almost embarrassed as the girl continued to push back.
"M-my father was not a fascist! What he wanted was a United Germany! Have we not all read the same history of the Second World War?! A united Germany took on the world! The whole world, all on their own! And they could have won! We could have won! And against the BETA? Think about it! The combined industrial might of the German Democratic Republic and the Federal Republic of Germany will help boost mankind to overcome the BETA, I'm sure of it!"
Axmann smirked.
To his surprise, his captain, the dog of the Stasi, the dreaded ice queen, spoke instead.
"Do you really believe that?"
The short girl whirled around, startled.
"What?"
Irisdina repeated the question.
"Do you truly believe that?"
The shorter girl straightened, then said "I do! And I believe your brother believed the same as I!"
"You Westerners are so foolish..." Bernhard said coldly.
"W-what?"
Cooly, she crossed her arms, the slightest hint of a scowl forming on her face as she spoke matter-of-factly.
"Germany under the fascists did not take on the whole world on its own, it did so by forcing a large portion of Europe to support them, from Italy to Hungary. Their supposed might was nothing but a myth pushed by surviving officers of the old German Army the newly formed North Atlantic Treaty Organization more than happily took under their supposedly clean wings because many of them had experience in fighting with their new enemy. That united Germany you're praising led directly to more suffering for the people of Germany than any foreign occupation, the deaths of millions, atrocities against humanity, and a poisonous ideology that clearly still permeates the minds of our supposed allies to our West."
"N-no, that's… they… the weapons they built… they could outmatch the Russians and-"
"Weapons?" she asked perplexed.
"T-the Tiger tanks, a-and the first fighter jets, a-and rockets-"
"Which were wholly inefficient and did very little against Western or Eastern forces. German tanks and aircraft, expensive as they were, did nothing to stop the advance."
"Because the allies had a numbers advantage!"
Unperturbed, his captain said, "Because the allies had the resources to deny whatever advantage the fascists could cobble together." Irisdina spoke just as calmly and coldly as she had at the start of the conversation, but that final line seemed to have an added degree of disdain.
Katia stammered something unintelligible. Her voice was small to the point it was more of a whimper. Pitifully so.
Irisdina only said "And let us say everything you said was true. That the same united Germany that took on the whole world was in actuality defeated mainly because they were wholly outnumbered. That is precisely the situation we find ourselves in now. There are an estimated billion BETA strains in this world, all vying for Europe and Asia, out to devour humanity and all creation. How would a united Germany solve the problem that according to you was its downfall, Ursula Strachwitz?"
The girl shrunk away, teary-eyed.
For some reason, Theodore didn't want her to give up. He couldn't agree with her at all. Nothing she said was accurate. Even if it was, the only reason some East Germans wouldn't mind reunification was because they would like to travel across to the West without penalty. How many truly wanted to give up their homes even now, he wondered.
But reunification?
Not anytime soon. No way.
Still, there was something about the girl's naive hope that made him wish she was right.
Axmann reminded him that it was useless as he said "Thank you, captain. I could not have said it better myself."
The Strachiwitz girl was silent now.
With a sickening smile, Axmann said, "Now, young lieutenant, we have no intention of arresting you or any of your comrades. But surely you understand how such comments could cause needless friction here, yes? How you could endanger your friends by trying to force them to agree with you? You see the risks posed to the mission of all mankind by forcing conflict where none exists at the moment?"
The girl's hands were still balled into tight fists that shook every so often.
"Miss Strachwitz?"
"W-what if I… what if defect?"
Axmann scoffed, but finally, Balck had seen enough. Axmann said nothing as the Luftwaffe Major who walked over and grabbed the girl by the arm. The girl now cried out like a child. It was almost shrill as he pulled her away.
"M-major, please! I… I want to help our-"
"That is enough, lieutenant! You presented your case!"
"But-"
"Circe! Keep her in her room until it's time to go, am I understood?"
"Y-yes, major."
The short girl was pulled away silently, wiping her tears on her sleeve. She snuck one final look at him as if she were pleading for help. Help he could never hope to provide. Not to her, not to anyone.
His heart ached as memories of that dreaded night were all too quick to resurface, and at its center, he was reminded that, even after a hard-won victory, the German Democratic Republic was still a black hole that he had no escape from.
Not with the Stasi watching. Not with the war still on their doorstep. And not with Irisdina Bernhard keeping a close tab on everyone. Annett watched her wide-eyed, then turned to the others. The girl muttered something just under her breath.
"Shrewd snakes, huh?"
Irisdina nodded.
He hid his disgust by focusing on his diluted drink.
Holzdorf Air Base, German Democratic Republic
8:09 PM
"And that is why I do not trust the West." Irisdina sighed, her arms crossed.
David only lifted his hands up in surrender. Despite her calm tone, despite her demeanor, it was obvious she was pissed off. The way she glared past him without scowling said it all, but there were other signs. Her usually perfect blonde hair was somewhat disheveled now. Something in her eyes looked broken. The thin line that was her mouth appeared to be about to-
"No words at all, Lieutenant?" she snapped at him, even if it didn't quite sound like a snap.
His only defense was the obvious.
"How exactly was I supposed to know who she was, Iris?"
She sighed, then. Defeated. Frustrated perhaps.
Quieter, she said "I'm not blaming you, or even her to be honest. She's a kid. Whoever sent her knew she would act like this. But I fear that whoever's behind this plot doesn't care about its success or not. Meaning that, at best, this is a sideshow to some larger operation." she concluded. Disappointed.
David shrugged.
He was sure it was conjecture, but what could he say to the contrary? He tried something then.
"Hey, look on the bright side, maybe the DDR won't get the treatment Chile got. Maybe it'll just ease into a freer society. These communist types are all the same, right? Autocrats. Scared of losing power. Maybe the threat was all that would be needed to get them in line and push some reforms through in order to keep it."
"It doesn't get us closer to Jurgen's dream." Irisdina said coldly.
"Huh?"
Her blue eyes turned to him then, as if the question showed some form of betrayal.
"Hey, I asked what's been on your mind before the operation, and you never answered. Want to talk about it?" he asked again.
Irisdina huffed, and muttered something he didn't catch before concluding with a tired "Maybe I'm just as naive as that Strachwitz girl."
She began to walk away.
"Iris?"
"I don't think we should talk anymore."
That surprised him.
"What? That's it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
As though she was writing an answer in essay form on a test, she said "I do not think we should meet anymore because the new pilots will be guaranteed Stasi agents. Any attempts by your agencies to make contact will be detected, sent up the chain of command, and made useless if not turned against you or myself. Us talking would only make that job easier even if our meetings are out here."
David got up, and quietly asked "So what then?"
She shrugged.
"Iris, you weren't planning on a coincidental meeting with me to be a cornerstone in some grand plan, were you?"
She turned to him, then smiled slightly, almost sheepishly, but nonetheless remained silent.
David's shoulders sagged.
"Right… shouldn't talk about it."
David rubbed at the back of his head, his eyes darting to the cross around her neck as his mind didn't quite race but certainly accelerated its pace to figure out what to say next. Trust was in short supply in the GDR after all, and for as much as he wanted to think the girl who'd helped him traverse the streets of the Cold War's front hadn't changed, there was no denying that she had adapted to some degree as she'd grown.
"Stick to the story." She said suddenly.
"Say again?"
"Stick to the story. The Stasi want the Americans here for some reason or another. If they think I approached you, say you approached me, or vice versa. Just note that it was clear we didn't trust each other to say anything. Because we don't."
With that, she walked on.
A part of him wished to reach out, grab her hand, pull her back, perhaps offer some other solution to their problem. But what solution could be found? What could he say? The BETA still threatened Europe. The GDR was still an important staging ground to drive the monsters back. Even if the West preferred an ultimately more cooperative nation, if it meant sacrificing the order that existed at present there was no way they would support rebels or a coup or even destabilizing reforms. At the end of the day, if the fate of many hung in the balance, then in spite of whatever values he held, the needs of the few would gladly be sacrificed.
Real life, wasn't as romantic as one would've liked.
As she vanished behind the trees and her footsteps grew ever-distant, David sighed, sat down, and looked at the empty, black void of a sky above him.
Checkpoint Charlie, Berlin
In the moonless night sky above, the American flag flew high above the flag of the German Democratic Republic, almost as if assert its superiority even now.
It was just visible as they approached, and Sergeant Alksy Andrzej made a point of shifting his American-issued patrol cap while he ensured his M81 Battle Dress Uniform was in order. The driver was silent as the truck pushed ahead. The few trees surrounding the road into West Berlin looked almost dead, with only a few leaves on their branches in spite of the season. The older guards inspecting the trucks passing by looked about as exhausted as they could.
And yet…
"Company name?" the man at the checkpoint asked, checking over his papers.
The American driver said "Five Hundred Sixty-third, medical logistic company."
The German eyed the driver, then asked "Anything in the back?"
"No, sir."
Andrzej held his breath as he heard the back flap of the truck be pulled open even over the engine's rumblings.
"What's wrong with your friend?"
The driver glanced at Andrzej and then said in a somewhat exaggerated southern accent, "He was at the front helping move the injured. You ain't the same after seeing a BETA attack, no sir."
"Oh? What was it like, soldier?"
Andrzej exhaled, then said in a low voice that he hoped masked his accent, "Bad. Very bad."
The officer nodded, then glanced at his men who gave an all-clear sign Andrzej saw on the mirror. He felt better as the truck drove ahead, and his heart relaxed all the more once they crossed into the American sector.
Still, it was not much cause for celebration.
They were still in danger, after all. Spies lay hidden on both sides of the Berlin Wall. For now, they had to play the part of Americans returning from the front and about to head back home through the lone airport in West Berlin.
"Crazy how uptight they are even with all the cooperation, huh?" the American driver muttered as he pulled into the one place that really made it clear the land they stepped on was under American influence.
The McDonald's food chain opened its German locations in 1971, and even as the BETA threat grew ever closer, it seemed the company was willing to keep expanding where it could even as others fled the continent. Andrzej entered the doors alone, Jakub waiting outside. Barchenowa remained hidden in the back of their truck while other of the Americans went inside. He eyed the fake smiles and polite cashiers. There was a lone family with kids sitting and eating their burgers like nothing was wrong despite the fact the city was surrounded by Warsaw Pact forces.
But it was a day for some happiness, he knew. The combined armies had pushed the BETA back, after all. He pondered this as he eyed the menu from afar. He only knew so much English.
"Cześć!"
He turned to the woman.
"Sergeant Alesky Andrzej, I presume?" she added with an extended hand and a very false smile.
"Welcome to the West."
He did not take it, moving over to her seat without another word. Her hair was well combed, her blouse not quite casual but not quite formal, and her smile as artificial as the rest of her. Andrzej smiled back.
"So, a McDonald's? How typically American. The propaganda was not far off."
"Hardly. Quarter Pounders don't translate into Metric." She replied with a pleasant laugh, but he kept his focus on her pale blue eyes. They were studying him. Searching.
"Go on, sergeant. Get yourself something nice from the staff."
Instead, he sat down and removed his cap before he spoke matter of factly, "The weapon we promised you is here, don't worry your pretty little head."
"Aw, down to business already? I was hoping you'd at least try a burger first. It's not quite the same as the ones back in Louisiana, tiny differences in texture, and as I said, names, but it is quite close, I assure you."
Quietly, he said, "The house you promised me."
"Hm? Oh, yes, of course." She replied, pretending that he'd caught her off guard as she reached into a bag that rested by her side.
The binder was thin, but the small collection of photographs was clean. New. In color. The sofas appeared somehow softer than any he'd seen back home, the curtains on the windows were neatly more jagged, as though that gave them a firmness that, back home, was unheard of and the view…
"San Francisco is quite nice this time of year, Sergeant."
"So you say." he punctuated with a longing sigh he knew exposed his true intentions all too much.
"So…" the woman asked, smiling like a girl waiting for a lover to pop a very important question.
Andrzej said, "Back of the truck we came in with."
He glanced around once by craning his neck.
"She is quite delicate, you understand. On here we have enough information for your people to recreate what she needs to survive and the documentation you may want to reference in case something goes wrong."
The woman's smile faltered ever so slightly.
"What? I kept my part of the bargain, did I not?"
"I suppose you have, but how can we know?"
Andrzej smirked.
"I suppose you are familiar with Palaiologos?"
"The operation or the dynasty?"
"The dynasty the operation was named after."
"Of course. What of it?"
"They were doomed from the start. Oh, they lasted almost two centuries. But at what cost?"
The woman said nothing.
"The same went for our Palailogos several years ago." he punctuated with a shake of the head.
Poland had been torn asunder during the Second World War. The Soviets were more than happy to cooperate with the Nazis even in the end, when Warsaw tried to throw off the fascists, the ever-righteous socialists of the Soviet Union bravely left the Polish resistance fighters on their own to be destroyed, thus allowing the Soviets to march in without the Armia Krajowa to oppose them.
It had been the exact opposite of Buchenwald.
He sighed, then said "But it is what it is. I got my end, and I'm sure they'll get theirs. If you want proof, you will get it when you ask it of her."
She frowned slightly, but he did not care. He'd get his life of leisure away from the doomed continent. And maybe his actions would get some praise and lead to things getting marginally better eventually. Maybe.
"You sure everything is there?" she asked.
"It seems the papers are in order, and it seems to me your state department will be quite frustrated with me if the information I provided is not true. I have no intention of lying here. What you do with those two and… Really all of this… well, that is up to your people."
He thought briefly about the tankers that rescued him.
A shame they could not come along…
She did not ask any questions, nor did she press him when he placed his cap back on and followed the Americans out. He did grab a "quarter pounder", though the cashier referred to it as a "Hamburger Royal", and it tasted… processed. Still, he continued to enjoy it as he walked briefly to the truck that had anticlimactically brought him over the iron curtain along with his bargaining chips.
Barchenowa and Jakub peeked out from behind the crate they hid behind.
He waved.
They waved back.
Then he got on another truck and hoped he never saw either of them again.
April 26, 1983,
Moscow, Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic
9:30 AM
There was only tension to be found here.
Appropriately, the meeting room in the Kremlin was comfortably decorated with older, Tsarist designs. As if to remind the leaders of the Russian people how easily all that prestige and power could be ripped away. Violently or passively.
Now, the head of the KGB and also the Supreme Soviet, Yuri Vladimirovich Andropov was eyeing every statesman in the room with the cold indifference that chilled them to the bone. A recent kidney failure had not weakened the man in a way that could easily be seen, and his newest appointees in this inner circle of sorts appeared to be cautiously aware of the man's frustration.
The Tsarist designs reminded everyone how easily they could be torn away, violently or passively…
"So… one of our Espers is unaccounted for, am I to understand you correctly?" Valdimirovich asked him.
"Yes, comrades, I am afraid that appears to be the case." He spoke quietly and as matter-of-factly as he could. As though he were stating that the moon was three-hundred-eighty-thousand kilometers from earth, or that water was wet.
The man asked, equally calmly "Not dead? Unaccounted for?"
"We know their tank was completely destroyed. A supposed mix-up placed them much closer to the front than we normally would, and that is the strange part."
The Supreme Soviet only removed his glasses to rub at his eyes. The arrival of the BETA had forced the Soviet Union and its allies in a very difficult position. It had been a two-front war, always. The BETA to their south, and the capitalists everywhere else. They had managed this far. Ruthlessly. Efficiently. Coldly.
But he had to wonder for how long given what had just happened.
KGB Chief Gregory Andropov could only guess. His superior had never quite for questioning orders. The man had been key to the total suppression of the Hungarian Uprising in 1956. "The Butcher of Budapest" did not leave risks to his nation to be dealt with "later".
Gregory quickly added, "We will of course look into it further, but as is, we must consider that the West now knows of our Esper program and may try to use it to their advantage going forward."
"Bastards…" the man muttered before he placed his glasses back on.
He then asked "Suggestions?"
Gregory said "As things stand, there is not much we can do except monitor their activities going forward. Western support was undeniably crucial in taking and holding the hive at Szczecin, and if we start to, as they say, rock the boat, we will come off as the aggressors."
The Minister of Defense grumbled, "Our air support was also vital."
"Undeniable, comrade Ustinov, but in comparison to these so-called war winners and their air-launched cruise missile barrage, much of the mission's success is being placed on the West. That said, the message in the media on all sides right now is one of unity. Of equal share of victory. We must take advantage of this."
The supreme Soviet leaned forward slightly, and asked "What do you propose?"
"Right now, in the German Democratic Republic, an opportunity has presented itself, comrades. The Americans have placed a former student of the GDR in one of its air bases. A twenty-four-year-old F-15 pilot by the name of David Elroy. You can find his details on page five of my report."
The party members turned the documents' pages. Vladimirovich suddenly looked up.
"He attended the GDR's Berlin Academy in 1972. Why did I not hear of this?"
"It was a relatively short story. Few outlets reported on it due to disciplinary issues from the young man. One case of fighting with his peers. This behavior was corrected, but after 1973, his parents were among those who evacuated from the American embassy. What interests us is that his squadron is working alongside one captain Irisdina Bernhard of the six-hundred-sixty-sixth."
That earned him some looks.
"They… they attended the same school briefly as well, did they not?"
"Yes, comrades. At the same time, the recent incident with the daughter of yet another traitor also arriving at Holzdorf Air Base tells us that the West is trying to make moves against us, as always. But we believe we can gain something from this specific case with the F-15 pilot."
"How so?"
Gregory smiled at his aging superior, and said "Comrades, I cannot be the only one who recalls the disastrous Belenko defection in 1976."
There was a disapproving groan at the name's mention, but Gregory saw Andropov's gaze turn thoughtful. Defections from the East to the West were painfully more common than the rare defections to the East. It wasn't the late 1940s or 1950s anymore, and the threat of the BETA had all but dried up defections to the East.
The Minister of Defense was quick to say "Wait a moment, comrade, the GDR is being quite cooperative with the information gained from their access to the American fighters. A defection would only give us so much useful information."
Vladimirovich then said "Wrong. The access we get to their fighters and technology is heavily vetted. Their new targeting pods on their Falcons and Eagles, the…"
The man seemed to pause as though struggling to recall the American acronym.
"This… Lantern… system?"
Andropov said, "Yes, comrade. The L-A-N-T-I-R-N. It is among the latest Western targeting pods. One of the few inventions we know they have but do not have full access to. Supposedly it is superior to some of our own systems and is specifically designed for not only low altitude attacks, but night operations."
The Minister of Defense said "Getting our hands on one… we could steal one with ease!"
"Yes, but not without hurting our current, and need I remind you essential, cooperation. But a defection would not only grant us that but also a very important win in the public eye." the General Secretary and head of the KGB quickly noted.
The man had not declined as badly as he thought. Gregory smiled slightly as the man turned to him.
"So what exactly do you propose?"
April 28, 1983
Holzdorf Airbase, German Democratic Republic
The hangar was empty that morning, and it made for about as good an auditorium as any. Theodore Eberbach watched as the girls lined up silently with absolute indifference. This batch was almost entirely girls, with a few boys who looked like they had not had any food in at least a week.
"At ease. The following individuals will be joining the 666th's Black Marks…" Gretel said with a slight air of indifference. However, she seemed exhausted after her brief "representative" role in the front. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced and she seemed more pale.
But he didn't care. Why should he? He had no time to get to know some brats who were probably only going to last a mission or two at the most against the BETA, nor should he care that his commissar was exhausted. Good on her for getting to see how hard the front could be. Even the bitch of the Stasi at least got her hands dirty in the front and made it back.
As Gretel called their names, the new pilots reacted to being called like schoolgirls during roll call.
Digging the bottom of the barrel, huh?
"Lieutenant Farka Murenkamp…"
"A pleasure!" the girl said loudly.
Farka? The hell kind of name is that? Did she mean Franka or… Oh, why are we still here?
Gretel continued to read them aloud and they continued to reply in that odd almost childish giddiness that angered him. So, Theodore turned his gaze and eyed the pair of American F-15s from the corner of his eye as they taxied to the runway. The Luftwaffe F4s were all gone now, and with them the lone bit of genuine optimism he had seen in a long time. The Americans acted optimistic, but they rarely spoke to them now. Whether he liked it or not, Katia or Ursula had reminded him of someone he'd never see again. And just like that, she too had gone.
The F-15s engines roared and they accelerated, taking off on their own with a pair of American Rockeyes under their pylons.
If I could steal one…
He perished the thought. He just needed to keep on getting by. Eventually, his bitch of a captain would screw up. Eventually, someone would get her on something. Maybe under the chaos of the West leaving he would be able to sneak away. Or perhaps the BETA would push into Yugoslavia and come from the GDR's south, and he could escape then.
Perhaps… or perhaps-
"Lieutenant Lise Hohestein."
It was an odd thing.
His body had reacted first, with his vocal cords forming the questioning exclamation prior to him having the air in his lungs ready and he was grateful the sound came out like he'd held in a cough. Sylwia glanced at him and nothing more, for which he was grateful.
It had to be a coincidence. Or he'd misheard. There was simply no way. There was no way what he'd heard and the image his mind was forming had anything in common.
"A pleasure!"
He had to be hearing things, too. He had to. He didn't want to check, but his heart was pounding. Jeckeln kept reading out the last few names, but he did not bother hearing them whatsoever. His eyes stared at the barely visible lock of blonde hair that was hidden behind the taller chestnut hair of the girl with the misspelled name.
His eyes became foggy as the girl craned her neck ever so slightly and her blue eyes locked onto his own. They froze there. Neither of them reacted further.
"Alright, that will be all. Your flight schedules will be posted this… Lieutenant Eberbach, what the blazes is wrong with you?!"
Theodore forced himself to try and regain his composure. Jeckeln was their commissar after all, and she did not look like she was in a good mood, all misty in his vision. But it was too much as he heard her familiar voice again.
"Eberbach? T-Theodore Eberbach?"
Jeckeln turned to the girl and asked "You know him?"
The girl he thought had been dead for the last three years said "Y-yes, comrade lieutenant."
Through teary eyes, he saw Jeckeln turn not to him, but instead nod to Captain Bernhard who simply said "Alright, dismissed."
He did not even register she'd run into his arms until he felt her slender, shaking, crying form whisper the words he'd wanted to say.
"You're alive!"
…
Irisdina Bernhard knew her eyes were wide with surprise. Unblinking. Vulnerable.
But for once, she couldn't help it.
She shouldn't have been surprised the Ministry for State Security would have pulled something like this. Not at all. No, that wasn't really what surprised her. What surprised her was that they'd be so obvious about it.
Gretel, coming off less angry now and more tired, asked "Lieutenant Honheim, how do you know Lieutenant Eberbach?"
"C-comrade commissar, Theo… Lieutenant Eberbach is my brother. M-My adopted brother!" she cried out, not looking away just yet. Eberbach appeared as though a truck had hit him. Frozen. His eyes were wide and unblinking as tears streamed out of them.
"Eberbach, is this true?"
The red-headed young man suddenly flinched and wrapped his arms around the girl.
"Yes… yes, lieutenant." he managed, unblinking, eyes wide.
As the lost girl sobbed quietly on her long lost brother's chest, and the pilots, new and old stared at the heartwarming reunion with wide eyes, Irisdina's mind coldly began to consider the data she could observe right there and then.
The West had arranged for two pilots with ties to the DDR to arrive in Holzdorf. An old acquaintance and perhaps friend, David Elroy, and the daughter of a war hero, Ursula Strachwitz with the fake name of Katia Waldheim. Ursula had been the obvious one, and despite her best wishes, the girl had ultimately been found out, and alongside her Luftwaffe comrades, sent back to the West.
David Elroy and the American F-15 pilots had not.
Now she had new pilots in her squadron, among which was the allegedly long lost adopted sister of her abrasive lieutenant Theodore Eberbach, Lise Hohenstein. Silently, she forced herself to appear unphased, but one look at the narrowing eyes of both Sylwia and Walther told her that they were thinking the same thing.
The arrival of this lost lamb meant far more than she'd feared.
Irisdina glanced at Gretel, the young commissar's exhausted gaze went over to her documents.
Quietly, she muttered, "Eberbach and Hohenstein both tried to defect to the West in 1980."
"A serious offense." Irisdina mumbled quietly.
"You… What the hell does this mean?" Gretel growled quietly.
"It means we will have to make sure they don't try something that may cause trouble."
"Shut up, Iris."
If the West did not have a plan for David Elroy, then the Stasi would be more than happy to employ their own. The pieces were all there, after all. She'd known him. He clearly still held some feelings regarding the short time he'd spent at Berlin Academy with her. Feelings she would have happily manipulated to garner any information she could about the West's plans for the DDR. But that was a two-way street, and if the Stasi tried to use her as a recruiter or wished to force her hand, then…
Her right hand balled into a fist.
Berlin
It was a frustrating thing.
Technically speaking, the United States had been employing female spies in one way or another since the necessity of intelligence gathering became clear, the precursor to the Central Intelligence Agency, the much acclaimed Office of Strategic Services, had been pioneering a field of espionage with women in vital roles soon after the Japanese struck Pearl Harbor, and the Central Intelligence Agency itself hired former OSS cryptographer Adelaide Hawkins as one of the agency's first high ranking female spies.
But for every Hawkins or Virginia Hall or Elois Page, for every "Iron Butterfly", there was at least one of her.
Would I even have gotten that job in the PRC if they didn't think it was a nothing-burger at the time?
Michaela Edwards straightened slightly as the Station Chief looked over her transcripts in silence. Every now and then his glassy eyes would dart up at her as if disapproving this was her operation, then they would lazily fall back to the documents.
"And she's legitimate?" he asked as he placed the files on the desk.
As the report you just read said… yes.
Instead, she said, "We won't know for sure until the tests are finished. However, given some of the semi-panicked traffic among some Soviet networks we're monitoring, and some of the things we've seen so far, it does seem like she's real."
She sensed the Station Chief didn't want to nod, something about how slowly he did so. His eyes darted back to the transcripts. Briefly back to her. Then he stood and moved over to the window which showed the outskirts of the German city.
"I don't like it."
Too bad.
Instead, she said, "Sir, the information we could get-"
"No, no, it's not that. You got damn lucky they weren't killed during Scalpel or Eastern Shield. Your intelligence gathering has paid off. Damn fine work. I'm more worried about what this will cause."
She raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was being honest or trying to insult her somehow, but she quickly lowered it.
She had been lucky, after all.
Her Station Chief said "You're too young to remember when this city was still being rebuilt. I'd hate to see it fall away again because of our meddling is all."
"No offense, chief, but if we don't do this, then our actions in Szczecin would have only delayed that destruction."
"Yes, maybe." Then he inhaled, and turned back to her, "Get this Barchenowa somewhere quiet where we can use her."
"Of course, sir."
"What about this Crucifix situation?"
That… was complicated.
"She's alive, as is our unwitting trojan horse. Right now, they're Plan B should Barchenowa not turn out entirely how we expect."
"So you haven't contacted either of them?"
Without your approval?
Instead, she said, "No, sir, but we can confirm she would be interested."
"How so?"
"Concerned calls from the captain of the second Strike Eagle group. Crucifix expressed or at least clearly tried to initiate contact with our asset."
We aren't being very subtle here…
"The asset you haven't contacted yet."
"Yes, sir. She did so by trying to get two of the younger pilots to give him a letter, which he denied allowing them to give, of course. What we're waiting for is the opportunity to present itself."
"And when the opportunity does present itself?"
The question had been asked no differently than the rest, but suddenly Edwards felt like she was being patronized.
With a forced smile, "We have the paperwork in place for an arranged meeting here for our trojan horse. There are some discrepancies in his documents that we need to clear up in person. Plus, if the Stasi is being as careful as we believe, they may also be waiting to make a move on their own."
Her director nodded. Satisfied.
"Let them show their hand first?" he spoke like a teacher telling a child the rules of a game.
"Of course, sir." She replied.
Holzdorf Air Base
Lunch had not been this awkward since the aftermath of Operation Scalpel.
Lise Hohenstein and Theodore Eberbach. The story had spread around the base like wildfire to the point event the Americans couldn't have missed it even if they'd all been out.
David Elroy eyed the pair as they sat together, talking aloud. Well, the girl was. Lieutenant Eberbach seemed more at a loss than anything. The way she spoke took him back to his high school days in Illinois, where some girls purposefully talked over each other during lunch. Gossip, jokes, and plans for the weekend, all with the carefree attitude of teenagers who had nothing better to do.
But there was a dark undertone to it that he could not ignore.
He thought back to Irisdina's warning, that every pilot brought in would likely be an agent of the Ministry for State security. Even sadder, it was clear no one fully bought the girl's outward innocence. Her smile was bright, her movements almost delicately practiced, and she seemed healthy as she laughed at something Theodore said.
No one was buying it. Eyes moved from her and back constantly, the white haired Polish woman did not even bother looking away, eyeing the girl with a frightful glare that the shorter blonde never seemed to notice. And just like her, he had to pretend not to notice as well.
David sighed and went back to his meal.
None of your business, Elroy, just stay out of it…
His eyes decided to ignore his brain's orders and drifted back to the table of the pair. His ears decided to also try and pick up whatever they were talking about and he did not bother to focus on other things. It was all for academic purposes, of course.
"I'm just glad you're alive… I really thought…" Theodore said.
"It doesn't matter anymore. We can focus on our job together now. We'll get through this!" she said.
Theodore did not respond and they were both quiet for a moment.
"So! How is captain Bernhard? You must love her, right?"
David's eye twitched for some reason. Were they really back in high school, talking about crushes? He noticed Theodore seemed to choke on something and perhaps thought the same as he spoke a little louder.
"Lise, what are you trying to say?!"
"Well, she's your type, isn't she? Tall, busty, blonde. Full package. You haven't forgotten the time I found those magazines under-"
"Lise!"
David's one saving grace was that he was not the only one to whirl around to look at the reaction of Irisdina Bernhard who sat not too far away, and certainly not far away enough she did not hear the girl's words.
Iris had been drinking from a bottle of water, and professional pilot that she was, she did not react at all to the girl's words. Though David noted that she was also paying close attention to the pair. Her eyes not leaving their direction.
Theodore however, had snorted and instead whispered something David couldn't quite catch.
"Stasi dog?" Lise asked suddenly.
"Hey, don't say it out loud!"
"Oh, sorry-sorry, I just… didn't think… sorry."
That got him thinking. Would a Stasi agent be surprised if someone pointed out their suspicion someone else was a stasi agent? David went back to his lunch.
Why would she? Even if she was, it's none of my business.
Yet a part of him kept screaming at him that it was.
4:00 PM
"Alright, as noted, we will be carrying a routine exercise. Your record has shown you all to be good enough pilots, but that is irrelevant now. You will show me what you can do today. The fuel dedicated to this is vital, and our ground crews have worked tirelessly to ensure our fighters can fly after Operation Eastern Shield."
Irisdina kept her eyes on her new pilots. All young. Most girls. Most were likely also Stasi operatives. One was obviously a Stasi plant. Her eyes were fixed on her, and her fake smile…
"Something you would like to add Lieutenant Hohestein?"
The girl's smile did not falter one bit as she said "No, captain! I just want to show that we can be as good an addition as all your elite pilots!"
Sylwia scoffed, but Iris frowned at her.
"We are elite because everyone here is considered a black mark, you understand? Criminals who have been granted the ability to redeem themselves in one of the more dangerous jobs. All of you know what you are guilty of. The resources allocated are viewed as far more valuable than your lives. Paradoxically, you are also worth more alive than dead, hence why you must care you do not die needlessly."
Lise's smile faltered then before vanishing entirely.
"Alright, get to your aircraft."
Skies over East Germany
Theodore Eberbach watched the ground below. His MiG-21 felt smoother now that he was able to fly a touch higher than back during the previous operation. The entire squadron was out now, and he could see Kruger not far off from him, just a touch lower. The late afternoon sky was warmer, and he could not deny how being up in the air was even now a somewhat liberating experience, but his mind felt…
"Eberbach, how's she handling?"
Bernhard's voice over his radio was impassive, yet grating.
At least that was something that hadn't changed.
"She is handling nominally, comrade captain. No abnormalities thus far."
"Good. Lieutenant Eberbach flew quite low to engage a heavy laser class during Eastern Shield. You must all learn to control your MiG-21s to achieve an equal if not greater degree in order to combat the beta and survive."
"Ah! How low did you fly, comrade lieutenant?"
That was not Lise, but the girl with the misspelled name.
"Low." He grumbled in response.
Kruger's voice suddenly but unsurprisingly chimed in.
"He's a little prickly, lieutenant, but I'm sure he'll warm up to you soon enough!"
Bernhard then, with the exasperated tone of a tired teacher, said "Focus, please."
"Yes, comrade captain!"
They flew low over the fields, not quite at treetop level yet. The MiG-21s performing about as gallantly as could be expected of them. No issues with the engines thus far, no alerts regarding a possible BETA incursion, and, for the moment, no Stasi breathing down their necks.
Well, Bernhard was ahead of them.
Deep down, he wondered, had his MiG held some armed rocket pods, would he be able to get a lock and free himself of that collaborator once and for all? Then he stopped. For the first time in a long time, he pushed the secret fantasy of his aside.
He had Lise again.
Her MiG was further to the right, a little higher, but she was piloting it about as well as anyone else. It remained straight, and she kept up just fine. Life in the East could be hell, but when he held her again.
It had been genuine. Her tears were real.
A part of him shuddered to imagine what the Stasi planned on doing if they'd been allowed to reunite, but this time…
This time I'll take care of her, Uncle Thomas… I promise.
Berlin
6:00 PM
Michaela Edwards stared at the cup of coffee in her still shaking hands.
The table had a report from Fort Mead which had been freshly photocopied in their Berlin headquarters rather than faxed through. One Lieutenant Colonel McDonnel stood in the room with them, arms crossed, as the other officers went over the report, but her eyes were glued onto a pair of the report's pages. Drawings of a human brain printed on the page stared back at her, but it was the words that made her as nervous as everyone around her.
In order to describe the Monroe Institute technique for achieving altered states of consciousness(the "Gateway Experience") involving brain hemisphere synchronization or "Hemi-Sync", the most effective way to begin is to briefly profile the basic mechanics which underlay operation of related methods such as hypnosis, transcendental meditation, and biofeedback…
She eyed the last one with particular uncertainty.
Biofeedback. The third consciousness-altering methodology… Biofeedback is somewhat unique in that it actually employs the self-cognitive powers of the left hemisphere to gain access to such areas of the right brain as the lower cerebral, motor, and sensory cortices and assorted pain or pleasure centers. Instead of suppressing the left hemisphere as is done in hypnosis, or largely bypassing and ignoring it as is done in transcendental meditation, biofeedback teaches the left hemisphere first to visualize the desired result and then to recognize the feelings associated with the experience of a successful right hemisphere access to the specific lower cerebral, cortex, pain or pleasure or other areas in the manner needed to produce the desired result.
The keyword, of course, was "result".
She turned to the Army colonel, and then to the CIA seniors who'd known about this as they compared it to the "results" of the Barchenowa girl. The clock on the wall ticked on. Her coffee grew cold.
Finally, after some uncertain stares, a nod or two, and a clearing of the throat, the man spoke.
"I can't believe Ivan figured this out before we did."
Michaela forced herself to ask "So not only is she the real deal, but what she told us can be considered accurate?"
"Accurate to a degree. This… ability, this level of biofeedback, well… let's just call it what it is. Telepathy. And it's far beyond what our experiments ever achieved."
Another analyst sank in the couch, documents still in hand as he said "No way. No way to fully confirm this-
"We just did. What we cannot confirm is how we can use it."
The words hung in the air.
McDonnell said, "I'm afraid we'll need to conduct more experiments, and preferably away from Soviet reach. At least before we can even begin to effectively plan around her abilities and where it would be more useful to use."
No one argued.
Michaela finally asked, "Then I think we can all agree that we need to activate Crucifix?"
There was a nod and a few grumbles of agreement.
McDonnel only said "Do what you have to. If there's even a one-percent possibility that what she showed us is true, then…"
"Yeah, you don't have to say it twice."
She saw the colonel nod, then turn to walk away. His eyes held a haunted expression as he did, and she felt hers were no different. No one spoke for a moment, the sound of shuffling papers as everyone put them away and grabbed their things being the only thing that filled the silence. She stood up. Eyed the report one final time.
"Alright, let's get to work, people!"
All copies of the brief were shredded and burned except for the originals. From there, a message was delivered to Washington. The gears of the bureaucratic intelligence-gathering machine turned bit by bit, as yet another plan was put into motion.
Michaela Edwards however, simply made a lone, short, and very casual call over an unsecured line. Her Station Chief on the other end gave her an affirmative, and she hung up. Then she had to make another call.
After hanging up, she noticed her hands were no longer shaking.
German Democratic Republic
Holzdorf Air Base
"It won't work."
"Huh?"
"The plan. The coup. It's all gone to hell."
Despite his calm demeanor and monotone delivery of the words, she'd never seen Jurgen so shaken. Frighteningly, he wasn't enraged. He was not kicking tables over, cursing under his breath, or searching for any alternative whatsoever. It was worse than that. She stared at his ashen face with disbelief.
Her brother had simply given up.
"W-what happened?" she asked.
"The lines in Ukraine… they're gone. Flattened."
"The BETA broke through?"
"No… no, I don't think they broke through. Not exactly."
He did not finish the thought and instead handed her a paper. She gave it a surface-level glance. Her eyes went wide just as her brother spoke for her.
"Iris, you need to report me."
The words felt like a knife had been stabbed into her chest.
"Jurgen, no! The BETA attack-"
"Iris, they are using this. We already lost contact with our allies in Kiev. The BETA aren't there yet, but they're not answering. We've been found out. All of us. You need to report me before they send you to the lines in Poland."
"Brother snap out of this!" she had objected, loudly. Too loudly. But she couldn't give up. "Think about Beatrix! You're going to leave her behind?! They'll kill you! They'll make you disappear and she will-"
Jurgen hid his face in his hands and coldly said "Then I'll write her an apology!"
"Jurgen!"
He grabbed her hands and squeezed them. His were warm and reassuring, but they trembled as they held hers. He did not meet her gaze, instead, he stared at her hands for a moment. Silence filled their living room. Broken clocks did not tell her how many seconds ticked by, the night sky outside did not hint at the time. Shadows did not grow or fluctuate. The only telling of time was her rapidly beating heart.
It was not an eternity, but as she waited, praying for the best, bracing for the worst, he spoke as calmly as before.
"Irisdina, there is no way out of this for me. If we want to help our people, if we want to bring change to the DDR… call that number, and do as I say."
"I-"
"Iris, please. We both know what needs to be done!"
"Jurgen, I can't-"
He squeezed her hands tighter and said "First Lieutenant Irisdina Bernhard, your duty is to the party and people of the German Democratic Republic, is it not? Did you not swear it?"
She did not respond.
"Iris?"
His words grew distant. She did not recall him saying anything as she reached for their home's telephone. He did not stop her. He didn't try. She did not hesitate once the line on the other end picked up.
"Captain Bernhard!"
Irisdina's eyes flew open.
She had dozed off at her desk, the reports she'd written up all signed and ready to be sent to her superiors.
Meanwhile, the girl in front of her was one of the newer pilots. The one with the name that had either been misspelled by uncaring parents or done on purpose to look unique. She eyed her with a serious expression that was a mixture of concern and, if what she'd read about her was true, perhaps envy.
"Lieutenant Murenkamp. Is everything alright?"
The girl smiled slightly, then said "Apologies, but your presence is requested by Comrade Commissar Jeckeln."
Iris glanced at the clock on the wall.
Ten thirty… Jeckeln's still working, too, huh?
"Understood, Lieutenant. Thank you for informing me. I will be there in a moment. You are dismissed."
"Thank you, comrade captain."
Iris gave her papers a final check, then neatly placed them on their respective gray binders. They would be picked up and sent to confirm the needed maintenance of their MiG-21s had been carried out as well as placed on a record the new pilot's performance during the day. From there, the bureaucratic machinery of the DDR's military would see to it they had the munitions for sustained operations, and perhaps even allocate the fuel for some more training. The Eastern Bloc did not train its pilots as much as the West, so any additional training had to be treasured.
Either way, for the first time since Operation Scalpel, the 666th "Black Marks" were, at least on paper, finally at full combat capability again.
And probably under more Stasi control than ever…
Lieutenant Murenkamp had lingered by the door as if something outside had given her pause. As Iris walked over, she heard and then saw the pair of returning American F-15s land on their runway. Their pylons still had the pair of Rockeye cluster bombs, which was a good sign if any.
"They kind of look like the MiG-29." Murenkamp mused aloud.
Irisdina only said, "I suppose."
"They didn't drop the bombs they left with this morning, do you think that means there aren't any BETA strains immediately threatening us?"
"That is a pleasant thought. Have a good night, lieutenant." She concluded the conversation before it got started.
"Ah! Thank you, captain! Good night, captain!"
She nodded to the grinning girl, then walked on.
Walking towards the main office, she could not help as her mind drifted back to that painful night yet again. It could not have been over with quickly, of course. They would not arrest him immediately that night, either. No, they'd waited, of course. Watched them both. In Poland, in the retreat, the failed counterattacks, and finally they'd struck when things had just calmed down enough that they could afford it.
The Makarov's trigger had always felt cold against her index finger. It had not felt any colder when she put the gun at the back of her brother's head. The recoil no stronger.
Still, she forced herself to remain calm and hide her inner turmoil then as she did now. She could not allow her hands to shake, her eyes to look away, or her tears to flow. She was a pilot for the DDR and would play the part until she could bring about change.
So what if the West might not be all that interested in changing the DDR for the better? There were other methods available, in the end. Outside assistance would have only helped so much, after all. They would still have to bring about change themselves.
Now if only I could get that Eberbach kid to see that, too…
It was less an issue of her needing more bodies. No way would a coup work without more support from the Volksarmee. But she would have preferred if the pilots she commanded were all on the same page as her. But now that his long lost sister had been returned to him, and things seemed to be improving for the first time in a decade, what could she do?
Her hand went to the doorknob as she arrived at Gretel's office.
The door swung open and Gretel stood there. She stood stiff and pale. Her eyes were wide. Fearful. When they met hers they quickly darted away and she began to push onward.
"Comrade?"
"The colonel will see you now." Gretel said simply before walking off. Irisdina did not say anything as Gretel walked past her without another word.
She stepped inside.
Colonel Axmann sat at Gretel's desk. Relaxed. Everything appeared in order. He sat still, going over the papers on it as though he were absentmindedly reading a newspaper. Without even looking up to meet her gaze, Axmann spoke calmly and with the comfort of a man who was in total control and knew as much.
"I suppose you won't be surprised to know we have a couple of informants in the new batch of pilots."
Irisdina said "Lise Hohenstein?"
"Not just her, but yes, she is quite the obvious one. Much like how that brat Strachwitz was the obvious western Trojan horse. Odds are she might have tried getting away and starting some kind of…" he finally looked up, mainly at the lightbulb above them as if its occasional flickers held answers, then, giving up, said, "Bah, a fascist Rote Armee Fraktion of sorts."
Irisdina frowned.
"Ah, please do not be offended by my description of our comrades in the West. It is simply an honest assessment. Our comrades' efforts then were still moral and valuable to the expansion of socialism. But a fascist equivalent here would have only sowed disorder."
Terrorism tends to do so…
"I appreciate how you handled her tantrum, of course. You showed true leadership by shooting down her talking points."
Irisdina's frown relaxed as she said "Thank you, comrade colonel."
"Which leads us to our friend in the USAF. How is your relationship with that young Lieutenant?"
She raised an eyebrow and said "Other than acquaintances, there really is not much more to say, comrade colonel. He has not approached me since that first night."
"Do you feel confident that he might be interested in you?"
Back to a frown.
Axmann spoke again before she could answer.
"If it was necessary for the betterment of the state, would you not feed that possible interest, Comrade Captain?"
"My duty is to the party and the people. If the order to do so is made, I would obey."
"Would you now?"
Irisdina turned around to meet the new voice. Her eyes briefly widened as she saw the two figures standing outside the open door. Tall. Confident. She controlled her surprise and managed a simple question.
"What?"
The Russian smiled politely and said "Weren't you two somewhat close when he was a student here in Berlin? There would be no issue of dual loyalty, now would there, comrade captain?"
"I wouldn't describe it as such, comrade…" she spoke, trying not to look at the person next to the Russian.
"Gregory Andropov, KGB. But you may call me Comrade Andropov." he replied with a cold smile, then continued, "So, you would not characterize your relationship back then as close? At all?
"I would not, but perhaps he sees it differently."
"Ah, I see. So, perhaps we should ask your friend?"
Irisdina could not help but turn her gaze towards the woman next to the Russian now. Her dark hair was tied neatly and partly tucked under her cap. Her Stasi uniform was in perfect order in contrast with her fatigues. It was as though she had been prepared for exactly this moment.
Her gaze was met with a cruel grin.
Axmann broke the tension with three words.
"Sit down, comrades."
…
"I'm telling you, that blonde girl's a plant." Martins said, taking his socks off as he sat on the bed.
"Yeah. Probably. Likely."
David was now reading The Gunslinger, his eyes going over Stephen King's narration with bored interest as rich descriptions of a desert world that might have been the Old West but appeared to also be something more filled his mind. Perhaps a world lost to time that could never be recovered. Perhaps an analogy for something. Perhaps.
"Hey, you said this is part of a series?"
"Supposedly. I think the catalog it came with mentioned-"
"Lieutenant Elroy?"
David sat up. Tense. He placed the book down and eyed the door same as Martins.
"Lieutenant David Elroy." the voice came from outside.
It was a girl's voice. Soft, and just edging on shy. Yet paradoxically, it was somehow commanding. David groaned and stood up as Martins eyed the closed door.
"That's-"
"Yeah. What, did you call her earlier?"
Barely above a whisper, Martins said "No, and… Don't."
"As opposed to what? Let's just get this over with." David grumbled, ignoring the warning.
Then he moved to open the door.
"Yes?"
He kept outwardly calm. Internally, his heart accelerated, and his brain rang the alarm as it began to shoot adrenaline all through his body to the ponit he felt he could keep up with Olympic sprinters had he been told to run. But he did his best to not show it. He did not gasp. He kept his hands relaxed.
Instead, he eyed the hands over the metallic grip of the still-holstered Makarov pistol on the girl's belt with no other reaction. Lise Hohenstein, now with all the outward emotion of a rock, said "Come with me, please."
"Yes ma'am." He replied mechanically.
"Lieutenant!" Martins objected.
He thought he heard the girl begin to say something, but as Martins got up he was quicker to shut it down.
"Martins, I'll be back in a few."
"Not without-"
He turned to him and forced a confident grin, then spoke in German.
"I'm certain it's nothing. We'll tell Captain Lambert once I'm back. But I'm certain it's nothing."
Martins eyed the girl, then, angrily, said in English "Bring him back or I will cause trouble."
Hohenstein's blue eyes did turn to Martins. She did not reply nor react to the threat as she took a step back and motioned for David to move. He stared at her for a moment, as if to give her a chance to better assure his WSO that this wasn't as serious as they both knew it was.
She said nothing and did nothing other than stare with darkness in her soulless, blue eyes.
He stepped outside and closed the door.
Lise slightly adjusted the belt holding the pistol, as if to emphasize that she did in fact have it. She did not speak as she moved down the hall. David forced himself to follow her as someone had apparently decided to change the composition of his feet so they weighed the same as cement blocks. With a sigh that was only a little forced, he walked in step with the girl.
She did not speak at all, but he could tell a fair bit just from looking at her.
The previous, cheerful, human demeanor he'd witnessed earlier that day was entirely gone. The dark circles under her eyes were far more pronounced now. Her movements were almost mechanical. Beyond even that of the regular soldiers he'd seen before, devoid of life, as though hidden under her gray fatigues were metal parts instead of skin and bones.
"Hope that doesn't cause any trouble." He muttered.
She said nothing.
"Telling him to tell my captain, I mean."
No audible response from the girl. She might've grunted in agreement. He thought he heard something, but she did nothing to indicate as such. Lise's eyes remained steadily locked ahead. The halls felt more oppressive, and the light seemed like toxic beams that would make him sick if he remained under it for too long. After a moment, he recognized the office she stopped in front of.
"Cause no trouble." Lise stated simply, then opened the door for him.
He was going to reply when he saw who was inside and froze.
Beatrix Brehme had been a girl he would have previously described as "fragile". Her frame had been smaller than Irisdina's. She'd been quieter in their few interactions. The very few they'd had. Yet her voice had been soft. Miniscule. A mouse in a chapel. Memorable for being so frail.
The woman standing in front of him had none of those characteristics.
Her Stasi uniform told him she had the rank of Major, but the half smile on her lips, the confident aura, the bewitching glimmer in her crimson eyes as she moved some hair out of their way with a gloved hand that, in his mind, was now built to shatter necks.
David felt a chill go up his spine as she spoke, her voice once frail voice now eerily soothing as it seemed to try and ease him into a state of false security.
"Hello, Lieutenant." She spoke, her half-smile shifting into a wolfish grin.
He didn't reply. Instead, David's gaze slowly shifted to the only other woman in the room.
Irisdina sat where he'd sat on that second day after Operation Scalpel. She remained ramrod straight, hands on her knees as she eyed the man on the other side of the Commissar's desk, not looking at him or Beatrix. Not saying a word, she eyed the man in charge impassively.
Axmann stood up and welcomed him with a smile.
"Ah, just the man we wanted to see. Lieutenant, please, have a seat!"
The Stasi colonel stood and moved his metal chair over to Irisdina's right. In the silent room, its legs hitting the floor echoed like a grinding executioner's blade. By contrast, Axmann tapped the seat once and gave him a warm smile before moving back behind the desk where, for the first time, David saw there were several files strewn about its wooden surface.
Finally, the fourth man stood in the room's corner. His arms crossed. The hammer and sickle atop his cap was a dead giveaway. His glasses angled so they reflected the light back at him, and he wondered if it was on purpose or not.
David considered his position for a half second, then took the seat Axmann offered.
He did not bother to look at Irisdina. He could feel how tense she was as he sat less than two feet away and suddenly he felt very self-conscious about his US Air Force uniform. He swallowed his fears and forced a friendly smile.
"How do you do?" he asked in German.
"Very well all things considered. We've won a major victory for humanity, we have successfully expelled a Western spy without incident, and one of our best squadrons has been replenished." Axmann replied with a smile too warm to be real.
"And how are you, Lieutenant Elroy?"
David spoke concisely.
"Uh… I must say, colonel, I am… Confused, to be honest. May I ask what all this is about?"
The Russian spoke then.
"You know these two women, yes?"
David chuckled.
"Oh, yes sir, Irisdina Bernhard and Beatrix Brehme. We attended school briefly back in '72." he said, trying to sound casual in the uncertain atmosphere.
The KGB man nodded but did not speak. Neither did Axmann. The two men appeared to be waiting for him. He could hear Irisdina's breathing, and the buzzing lightbulb overhead.
With his forced smile a little more concrete, he added "I, uh… I have to say, I didn't know Beatrix was working with the Ministry for State Security. But I did tell Commissar Jeckeln that I did know Captain Bernhard here personally when we were in school. I completely understand the concerns and if you wish I transfer out of-"
"No, no. No transfers." the Russian spoke calmly. Coldly. But quickly.
David's smile wavered.
Axmann asked, "Why do you think we allowed your American Strike Eagle flight to remain here?"
He was going to answer. He wanted to answer. But the breathing on his neck stopped him as Beatrix moved over to his ear. Her hand on his shoulder, she leaned in and asked in a tone that felt all too casual.
"Why do you think Captain Bernhard is here right now, lieutenant?"
David turned to Iris as the words she'd told him echoed in his mind.
Pulling the trigger wasn't so tough.
David was an F-15 pilot. He knew to keep his emotions in check. Training required it. If one was flying near Mach 1 mere feet above the ground and needed to react, getting emotional was not helpful. If one fell or was captured by the enemy, getting emotional was not helpful.
Seeing a girl he knew had been broken in more ways than one now eyeing him up as an enemy… getting emotional was not helpful.
So, calmly, he answered, "I suppose it's to ask questions. Or is there something else going on?"
Beatrix huffed. Still, next to him, she reached into her breast pocket, and out came a box of cigarettes and a lighter whose brand he didn't recognize. She took one, lit it, and took a slow drag as she eyed him, waiting for the smoke to go up his nostrils. Once she was sure it did, she turned away without another word.
To his surprise, Irisdina spoke then.
"Lieutenant, you are being presented with a unique opportunity."
David turned to her, but Axmann spoke up once more.
"September 6, 1976, three years after the BETA made landfall, three days before Chairman Mao Zedong's death, the same month that Operation Palailogos was being conceived by Warsaw Pact strategists, and a few months before your president Jimmy Carter wins that year's election."
David winced at the date.
The Russian spoke then.
"Victor Belenko. How do you Americans say it? Does his name ring a bell?"
"Uh, yeah. He was a MiG-25 pilot who defected during a lull in the fighting in Asia."
One of many… then again, he brought his MiG with him.
Axmann said "Let us be blunt, lieutenant. The deal to be able to observe and analyze your latest Strike Eagles to a degree… it is a great deal, I am sure both our governments are happy with it."
David did not reply, and his gaze slowly shifted to Beatrix. She was still smoking, her eyes focused on Iris before they shifted to him. They briefly met his own but did not remain there as they went back to Irisdina. He didn't reply as he turned back to Axman.
Axmann continued, "Understand that recent problems have of course multiplied since your last visit. Surely you are aware of the many problems back in your home?"
David jumped at the hand on his left leg.
Irisdina spoke calmly, almost sweetly, with a smile that could kill.
"It isn't so bad here, David. And with your help, things could get even better."
He swallowed. Her soft hands had suffered since their teen years. He could see piloting the Fishbed had not been easy for her. There was a roughness to her fingers which had not been present back then. His gaze however moved upward, stopping at her chest, where the crucifix still hung. Even now.
It was such a simple design, as though it could have passed for something else if it so wanted to. There was no figure of Christ nailed onto it. Yet the red painting on its center symbolized His blood, he knew. It hung there motionless. A simple reminder that now felt like a plea.
"Okay, stop. Stop!" he said, purposefully ensuring anger lined his words.
Irisdina moved her hand away without a word or much of a reaction other than her smile vanishing.
David turned to the officers and spoke firmly.
"Look, I… I appreciate the offer."
"Offer?" Beatrix chortled.
David felt his jaw clench.
"Damn it, listen to me! I came here to fight the BETA. My wing came here to support operations against the Laser Class in Operations Scalpel and Eastern Shield and all upcoming NATO operations. I didn't know I would see Irisdina again. Or Beatrix. I'm not a plant to cause trouble because right now any instability would probably risk the operations to keep the BETA out of Europe, which goes against both our nations' interests!"
"So if you defect your government will not react to create instability, correct?"
David froze at Beatrix's words.
Axmann added a confident "Since they care about keeping the BETA out of Europe, yes?"
David stared at them wide-eyed.
Irisdina said nothing.
"Lieutenant, perhaps you would prefer a small amount of time to consider things?"
"Such as what you could get out of this. What did Belenko receive? A house, perhaps? Luxury? Imagine what we could give you."
Or what you could take.
David felt his shoulders sag.
"Why so down, Lieutenant? Go on, be happy. We are not forcing you into this. You called it an offer and it is as you say! An offer!"
David nodded slowly.
"That will be all. Dismissed, Lieutenant. Captain."
Beatrix patted him on the shoulder, then handed him a small slip of paper with numbers printed written on it in black ink.
She said, "Contact us when you are prepared."
David eyed her then.
There was not a hint of a joke in those sad eyes.
Irisdina quietly said, "Cause no trouble."
Then she walked out without another word.
David stayed in the metal seat, half hoping the structure of the base barracks was so bad it'd collapse on him.
"Lieutenant, is there something you want to say?" Axmann asked.
David glanced up, then spoke calmly.
"No, colonel. Have a good night."
"You as well."
Go to hell.
The second he stepped outside neither Irisdina nor Beatrix stood in the hall. He saw the hint of a shadow turn behind the end of the hall's corner and he chased it, walking quickly while trying not to act suspiciously. To his disappointment, it was the commissar who closed the door to the ladies' room without having seen him once.
Thus he was alone in the concrete hall.
Aware he was being watched.
Unable to do anything about it.
Deep down inside, he shuddered. The temperature felt colder, the buzzing lightbulbs above mocked him, and his mind began to race for a solution. Liking none that it came to.
Telling his captain and getting lobbed back somewhere safe felt like the best option. But what fighter pilot would ever be happy about running away? Internally, a part of him already knew the importance of knowing when to fold.
And yet…
He glanced at the numbers Beatrix had given him. Then down the oppressive halls. He felt his right eye twitch slightly. He huffed, and crushed the paper as his hands balled into fists, crumpling it, but also keeping it safe as he marched down the concrete and brightly lit halls of the base.
Not your business… not your God damned business! See where that got you?!
He was not a teenager anymore, nor was he so immature he'd let his frustration take over. He'd keep calm. He'd stay as rational as he could.
He stormed out of the barracks and glared at the empty, open area near the main runway. The night felt colder now. No stars were visible. A breeze blew past the pines and blades of grass. Maybe an owl leaped from one tree to the next. Maybe it was his imagination. The world was as still as could be for the night.
She wasn't there.
He did an about-face and headed back to his barracks, no more uncertain of what he could do.
Just certain that he was still another pawn in an international chess match where pieces were being taken out of the board one by one, turn by turn, and day by day.
April 29, 1983
12:01 AM
Irisdina sat in the cockpit of her MiG-21, passing a hand through its weapons selection switches.
She was an interceptor. She was supposed to quickly catch up to enemy fighters and knock them out of the sky before heading home. A proven concept. The bane of American F-105 Thunderchiefs.
Now she stared at its tight interior with disdain.
"I told you, captain, all instruments seemed fine after that last exercise. She'll fly as good as always." The head mechanic yawned as he concluded his report.
"Thank you, I was just making sure." She replied cooly.
"You, uh… you mind me askin' you something, captain?"
"Go ahead."
"What's wrong with you? You act like you're guilty of something."
She only turned to look at him. The man was old. He was missing his left eye. Balding. Supposedly he'd been among the last resisting German draftees when Berlin fell. Sent to one of the repurposed Nazi concentration camps once the Soviets took over, and sent to the 666th when mechanics were needed some time in the late 60s.
Supposedly…
The old man chortled, then said "I know, I know… we're all guilty of something, but whatever it is seems to be bothering you a little more tonight."
She smiled slightly.
"You are seeing things, comrade. I will not keep you up further."
"Bah, so they say. Well, I won't report you for feeling guilty."
"Thank you very much, comrade." she sighed, hopping out of the cockpit before closing it behind her.
She stared at her reflection briefly. Her hair was slightly more disheveled now, and she did look tired.
Perhaps not that different from the same girl who'd enlisted the second the DDR allowed women to do so given losses further east. Not physically different, at least.
Her jaw clenched at the memory.
Jurgen's head had a hole in it now, but putting a bullet in him would not suffice.
She screamed as she kicked his body.
"You bastard! You bastard! You did this after everything?!"
She had been aware of the men watching. None smiled. A few smoked as blood stained the warehouse floor. The sickening sound of a sister having murdered her brother in front of them did not seem to affect these men.
She began to kick at his neck when the man said "I believe he is dead, comrade lieutenant."
She forced her breathing to relax, but it was impossible. Her boots held lumps of what she could be certain were her brother's brain, her pant legs stained with drying blood, and her palms marked by the grips of her pistol due to how tightly she'd been holding it. She could only hope she was able to pass it off as rage and not the emotional heaviness she was feeling now.
Axmann had turned to the other men lined up, eyeing her in fear. Officers all of them. Some captains, at least one major, and at least one party member.
Axmann asked "Take a good look. This girl is a true socialist. She gave up her own brother, just like God gave his own son, for the greater good."
His arm on her shoulder made her want to puke almost as much as the blasphemous comparison of the murder she'd just committed. She forced her shaking hand to be still as she glared at her comrades without a word. None said anything.
Axmann sighed, then said "Jurgen was the ringleader. His fate was sealed. All of you… stand up. Now."
The men did as told.
Axmann scoffed, then said "Officers shall be stripped of rank, sentenced to life. You will serve the state in ways you cannot harm it. And Comrade Maizière, I suppose you understand the severity of your actions?"
The forty-year-old man shakily nodded. Even in the darkness, she could see there was a droplet or two of her brother's blood that stained his pale face.
"Very good. We are done here."
Irisdina woke up.
She sat up a little straighter, noting she'd fallen asleep next to her MiG. Sun rays were entering the hangar and she felt rather stiff due to the concrete floor and a spare tire not making for the best mattress and pillow. It had to be early morning by now. She had to work to do.
She'd been adjusting her fatigues when she heard him.
"There you are."
Irisdina turned to the American.
His arms were crossed as he stood by the hangar's entrance, his green uniform in order, and his expression…
Angry.
"Lieutenant Elroy, Is there something-?"
"Drop it. Here."
He handed her a paper.
She began to read it over as he began to talk again.
"Y'know… I never wanted this. None of it. Didn't want to visit this damned country, didn't want to learn in its schools. Mom wanted that and Dad was too much of a pushover to fight her on it. But y'know what?"
Her eyes widened at the words on the paper, which he promptly took from her hands, forcing her to face him.
"I did make some fond memories back then. I did."
"Well, then perhaps you should-"
"I said drop it, Captain. Assuming I'm not dead in the next twelve hours, we'll talk later."
Before he turned to leave, she spoke quickly.
"Hey."
She saw his lips purse into a thin line, but he did not object to her talking this time.
So, remaining serious…
"We'll speak truthfully then. Alright?"
He nodded, then turned and walked off.
She held her breath as she glanced at her MiG again.
It's all coming to a head now, Jurgen.
Then, eyeing her shadow on the concrete floor… the oil stains around her forced painful memories to surface again.
Maybe I'll see you soon.
A/N: I'm not dead! Just… busy.
Right, so… this is the chapter where this switches from a war story to a proper Cold War drama, I think. I tried to be less… um… biased. We all know how Muv Luv's Schwarzesmarken portrayed the GDR, and I wanted to avoid the exaggerations while not shying away from the realities since the GDR was, indeed, a pretty harsh police state in some regards. Still, I wanted to add a little bit more realism to the setting, so characters like Axmann are to a degree, "true believers" and not just power-hungry.
But this is a chapter where most of the cards have been shown. The communists want a win, Iris was hoping for a way to gain the needed leverage to liberalize the GDR, and the Americans want… something… Beatrix appears to have her goals, Irisdina has her own plan that will happen with or without Western aid…
…And our F-15 pilot is stuck in the middle of it all…
Oh, yeah, the esper. More on her next chapter, I promise. Muv Luv's esper program was not something I was going to include when I first sat down to write chapter 1, but as I read a bit about it, and saw some of the real-life attempts to create "espers", I figured, "Hey, why not?"
And yes, Beatrix in the anime was butchered, so I hope to give her a bit more justice given how complex her character really is in the visual novel.
Hopefully, I'll get that chance with the next chapter.
This isn't it for battles of course, just that I plan on this second half of the fic to focus on something a little different.
Anyway, thank you all so much for reading, and hopefully this was an enjoyable read. Anything that may need fixing do let me know, as it is greatly appreciated given I want to make this as accurate as possible. Reviews are also appreciated, and I thank you all so much for reading!
Hope everyone has a happy New Year, and I hope to see you all soon!
