An Illinois Yankee in the Deutsche Demokratische Republik I (Side A)

The Borderline


April 29, 1983

8:49 AM

Ramstein Air Base, Federal Republic of Germany

Their Phantoms were taking the lull in the fighting for maintenance, not that it made her feel any better.

Ursula Strachtwitz. Known to her friends in the Luftwaffe as Katia Waldheim. In reality, just another pawn to be used in the greater Cold War. She should have known, really. Someone her age? Moving up the chain so quickly? Being put into a mission that would directly place her within the country her father smuggled her out of?

It was too good to be true.

Maybe if she'd gone into another branch she might've had a better chance.

On the television screen in the lounge, she watched silently as the news covered the giant robots. Their autocannons were still visibly dirty from all the firing they'd had to do, and while the news was calling them "War Winners", the pilots had eerie, vacant expressions. At least the four that had been called out for some photo op. Still, the large engines that were similar to those on some jets, the sheer image of power the machines presented…

Maybe if I had one of those I could make it to the East and-

"Coffee's done!" Lieutenant Circe Steinhoff loudly declared as she marched in with several coffee cups and killed her thought there and then.

There were a few other pilots in the lounge, some went and took their cups with a polite nod.

She, however, remained seated.

Circe was quick to join her on the table and hand her a cup. She didn't want it, no need for the bitterness of the usually black coffee right now, but she took a sip anyway.

"So, how are you feeling?"

Ursula sighed, loudly, but said "I was stupid."

"Aren't we all? And here we thought our terrorist state to the east could be saved!" Circe said a little too loud.

Still, she didn't laugh or smile. She was unsure if Circe was trying to cheer her up or rant about the East Germans to distract her.

"Look, they were the ones funding terrorist attacks here, you know. They used to keep anyone that wanted to flee as hostages, demanding insane amounts of cash for them to be sent back home. That cold, blonde, bitch Bernhard? Yeah, she can keep her moronic ideals. Let the BETA eat them, I say."

"Steinhoff, please stop."

The hand on her shoulder startled her, but Circe's next words made her freeze.

"Look, you did what you could. It didn't work cause they didn't cooperate. Leave 'em to rot." Circe concluded by going back to her coffee and eyeing the TV. The news had now shifted to the footage of the newer Luftwaffe Tornadoes flying nap of the earth, heavy with ordinance.

The war still raged, after all.

But with no one to preach her ideals to, Ursula could only be honest.

"But I really think that we should help them."

"Said the tortoise to the scorpion."

"It's not like that!"

"You can think that all you want, but you heard Bernhard. They see us as fascists who adopted the Nazis. As if that were so bad."

"Huh?"

As if she said something she shouldn't have, Circe quickly said "I mean- the Soviets did so as well! And should we pretend the Communists aren't using the same strategy as the Nazis? Not the Wehrmacht, the Nazis." she emphasized the last point as if it was of particularly great importance.

But Ursula could only wonder about it all.

"Even if their leadership is hypocritical, we can't just abandon them!"

"We're not! We're still helping them cull the BETA wherever we can. They don't deserve our help, but we're giving it anyway. You gave them the chance to rise up and what did they instantly do? Tell you to leave."

"I mean in helping their people! Maybe their leadership and officers have no interest in that, but I'm sure the people do! And uniting our countries again should be the big goal! That's still true, right? A united Germany is stronger than a split one!"

Circe only said, "Well, maybe we'll get the chance someday, but right now?"

One glance at the news had shifted footage of supplies being moved into large ships, the headline being "Factory shifts triple to respond to ammunition necessities".

"Now we have to focus on making sure there's still an East Germany to unite with. For better or for worse."

Berlin, German Democratic Republic

David Elroy stepped off the train and couldn't help himself as he inhaled, exhaled, then groaned at the familiar city air.

It hadn't changed. Not one damn bit. If anything, the city smelled worse. Felt colder even though he was sure the temperature should've been hotter now. All the industry and manufacturing, the train stations moving in weapons and supplies to the front. He felt a shiver go up his spine as he looked at the surroundings of the station and walked out into the city itself.

Oh, Berlin had gotten worse alright.

Fridays back home were often just the last day of work before the weekend. The United States could still afford such a thing as "weekends" in the decade after the BETA landed, but the German Democratic Republic could not afford such luxuries. As he walked by the crowds of workers they all looked exhausted. Wrung up like used towels and equally dried up as some walked into the stations fully dried of even sweat, and others shuffled past it as if too exhausted to think, simply moving on autopilot. They shambled along quietly for the most part, each generally self-absorbed in their own little world, but he could hear the few well-rested enough to talk among them discussing things here and there.

He paused to stare at a local cafe where a few men lounged around Few spoke, but those that did he could hear well enough.

"It's getting better." one said aloud.

Whether he meant the war or the quality of the coffee the old woman was serving him at the table he did not know. He doubted either was entirely accurate. If anything, things should be at their worst right now, not so long after the largest battle the continent had seen since the Second World War. The wounded, the need to fix damaged vehicles, replace destroyed ones, restock all kinds of munitions, and God only knew how many transports set aside to get it all moved.

But perhaps morale was somewhat high after a victory.

Unlike him.

He glanced at the Berlin Wall without a word as he marched right towards the American Embassy. It was clean. A flat, cement-white, or perhaps gray. He'd seen the graffiti-ridden opposite end. A difference between East and West. There were still plenty of guards. They were still armed. Still staring silently at all who walked by. Glad to be away from the frontline and not about to give their superiors a reason to send them there by doing a sloppy job.

He was allowed to walk by with nothing beyond a glare, and soon enough he arrived at the US embassy, where a tired clerk told him to sit and wait.

So he did, or at least intended on it.

Had he sat down, he might've appreciated the linoleum floor and how polished it was. Or how the paint on the walls appeared brand new and friendly as if to tempt any lucky Easterner further with riches beyond their comprehension. Had he gotten the chance to sit down he might have considered all of this as the American flags hung still in the air-conditioned lobby almost as the centerpiece that, yes, this was American soil, and yes, Americans were indeed very rich.

But he only got to take it all in for about six seconds before someone said "Lieutenant David Elroy?"

He turned to the man.

With the calm professionalism of an F-15 pilot he said "Yes, sir, I'm here because you're supposedly missing some documents of mine."

Despite his professionalism, he let an amount of disdain bleed into the last part of his sentence. Oh, he knew it was a game by now. It had been a little too obvious. Too easy a confirmation to make that showed he was, indeed, a pawn.

But of course, he only let a little of that disdain seep into his words, and he quickly hid it by smiling at the man.

The man nodded, then said, "This way, please."

His mind briefly considered what he was doing. Briefly, it shot back to the infamous Church Committee, a relatively unknown Congressional Inquiry that was buried during the chaotic year of 1975, with the war against the BETA truly turning nuclear, but the impact had been made nevertheless. The lesson could have been no clearer:

"Don't. Trust. The. Spooks."

He followed after the man, who politely closed the door behind then quickly moved ahead, leading him down a particularly lonely hall. The first door he saw was closed, and as he passed it he moved his hand to it. Locked. He saw no windows. No further doors. David decided to speak up.

"So. What problem is there? With my documents I mean."

The other man said nothing.

So David stopped walking.

The man stopped walking a second later, and then turned.

They eyed each other for a moment. The challenge was clear despite his polite smile. The ball very much in the man's court. David remained silent as he waited. The man could've been in his thirties, but given the shaved head, it was possible he was older. A Vietnam vet, perhaps? Still, that would make him a kid of the 40s or very early fifties. Post War.

At the very least, he should know the way the game worked. Or at the very least, how pilots were.

The man clearly knew both.

Raising his hands in symbolic surrender, he said, "Sir, I promise, Miss Edwards will explain everything to you in a moment. It won't take long."

David frowned. It wasn't the answer he wanted, but it did tell him something good:

They want me to cooperate voluntarily.

He walked after the man without another word.

Holdorf Air Base, German Democratic Republic

Her morning prayers now finished, Irisdina calmly washed her face. She gazed at her mirror reflection. The previous night had been… bad. The Stasi's move could cripple any plan she had regardless of Volksarmee support.

Her tired reflection stared back at her.

Wordlessly, it was as if she was telling any reluctant part of her that there might be a way to ensure Jurgen's dream. She gripped the side of the sink a little tighter. It all depended on whether or not the West was also going to make a move now. She relaxed a little. Just a little.

"Rejoice in confident hope. Be patient in trouble. Keep praying." she whispered aloud.

She closed the faucet and stretched slightly just as there was a loud knock on her door. By now she felt relaxed enough to maintain her stoic expression, and she glanced in its direction.

"Come in." She replied as she dried her face with a towel.

Lieutenant Commissar Gretel Jeckeln entered with a sullen expression. She wondered if she'd gotten any sleep, but kept the question to herself.

"Comrade Commissar, how can I help you?"

Gretel only sat down by Irisdina's bed and rubbed at her eyes. Irisdina waited as the girl moved from rubbing at her eyes to cleaning her glasses. No words just yet. There was only an inhaling of air. Loud, as if preemptively exasperated for the following topic. Still, she composed herself. seemingly.

Very calmly, as if hiding her anger from a child, Gretel asked "Did you know that American boyfriend of yours got called to his embassy?"

Irisdina only replied with a very calm "What part of that statement would you prefer I address first?"

"It's a simple question."

"It's a loaded question, comrade lieutenant."

"You've faced such questions before and answered them tactfully, now should be no different."

Iris smiled, then said, "Well, then I'm afraid I can't help you since I have no romantic partners at this time, therefore I cannot know whom you speak of."

Gretel suddenly snapped, "Cut the crap, Iris! We both know what I'm talking about!"

"Do we?"

"Lieutenant Elroy. He was called to the American Embassy today."

"Was he now?"

"Damn it, Iris, I trusted you!" Gretel protested loudly, "Why are you doing this?!"

"Doing what?"

With a hiss, Gretel said "You're up to something. I don't know what or why or how, but I can tell! You have that damned look in your eye, and it hasn't left."

Iris closed her eyes and moved to her drawer without a word, smile remaining.

Angrier now, Gretel shouted, "Yet you haven't told me! What happened last night with Axmann?! Are our pilots at risk?! Is this part of some plan of yours?!"

Irisdina only adjusted her hair in silence as a response.

"Damn it, Iris, I helped you when your pilots died, but I can't help you or anyone now if you keep us in the dark!"

Iris finished adjusting her hair, then turned to Gretel with a more polite smile.

"I take it the front was harsh, huh?"

"Excuse me?"

"I apologize, comrade, I didn't get to ask how it went over there. Given how busy we've both been."

Gretel angrily said "We lost a lot of good soldiers. We won, but it was costly. And I don't want you doing anything to make all those sacrifices in vain!"

"Of course, comrade commissar. Rest easy." She replied cooly.

"I can't if you don't tell me what the blazes is going on!"

"I cannot." She stated simply.

Gretel's eyes widened. The two words had said more than she should have. Perhaps not in a vacuum, but Gretel was already aware of enough to get an idea from just those two words.

"Damn it all, you can't tell me anything?!"

Despite her rank, Lieutenant Jeckeln's youth at times broke through. She was an officer. A true believer in what the country stood for in its founding documents, yet when faced with the reality of its implementation, she had little reference for dealing with it.

So, Iris could only really respond with a stern, "No. That fact alone should be enough."

"God… damn it." it was no longer angry, far more resigned. Gretel sank into the chair and shakily placed her glasses on. Her next words were exhausted, as if she had no other choice and needed to say them aloud, "Stasi are keeping a closer eye around us now. Axmann and Brehme have their little office set up where mine is. Was?"

Iris shrugged.

Angry again, "And that little blonde bitch has Eberbach wrapped around her finger. Iris, I can't say this is it, but-"

"If they replace anyone it will be me. That is an outcome I am more than prepared for."

"But-"

"It is for the good of all mankind, comrade. Trust the state. They know better than all of us."

"You lying…" Gretel covered her face, then shakily said "Don't go running around trying to sacrifice yourself uselessly. Don't. We've lost enough people in this war."

Iris noted the ambiguity behind the term war, but did not comment.

Genuinely, she wished she could give the young commissar something to ease her mind, but she could hear footsteps outside. Loud tapping on the linoleum that could only be the boots of someone else in uniform, echoing down an empty hallway. It stopped by her door and there was a loud pounding against it.

Irisdina said nothing as she moved quietly towards the door before she threw it open, the hinges squeaking in protest, but her gaze fell on the blonde standing on the opposite end of the hall.

Gretel winced, then asked, "Lieutenant Hosenfeld, what are you doing here?"

Lise only smiled and said, "Apologies, comrades, I was told to deliver this message to the captain."

"I was not informed of any messages for the captain."

She was interrupted by the girl's cheerful voice, "Of course not, your bias may prevent it from reaching her!"

Gretel angrily said, "I work for the state as well, comrade! This accusation-"

Instantly, Lise's smile vanished and a dangerous glare replaced it as she quietly, robotically, answered back "Then know your place and know when you are out of your depth, comrade commissar."

Gretel froze and fell silent, any words of protest dying in her throat there and then as she stood still.

Irisdina huffed, but took the message without a word, reading it over in silence. As if nothing had happened, Iris spoke to Lise in her calm, stoic, icy demeanor.

"I take it your brother is happy to have you back?"

"You leave him out of this." came the angry warning.

"So I shall." Iris complied instantly as she folded the paper and pocketed it. Then she turned to Gretel, "The Russians up in Strausberg needed additional fuel for culling operations. We will not be training on the MiG-21s today."

"Sounds like you have the day off, captain. How wonderful!" Lise spoke, false cheer lining her words.

Gretel suddenly looked like she was about to shout at the girl, but Iris spoke first.

"We should count our blessings, lieutenant. I can catch up on my paperwork and you can go and catch up with your adopted sibling."

Suddenly Lise winced as Iris began to walk away. Enraged, the girl shouted after her.

"I told you to leave him out of this!"

"Out of what?"

She kept her back to her and waited. She faintly heard shuffling, and perhaps the sound of teeth grinding away in anger, but she must have imagined it as Lise answered in a far more composed tone.

"You know exactly what I mean."

"Then I shall." She replied without skipping a beat.

She heard Gretel mutter something, and she briefly worried that there would be an argument between the two girls behind her, but the commissar quickly caught up to her and angrily continued her interrogation.

"So, that little brat is really a proper dog of the Stasi, and they're pulling you into something."

Irisdina didn't reply.

Voice now barely above a whisper, Gretel said, "How can I help you?"

That almost gave her pause. Gretel was by no means a bad person, but the girl was a true believer in the state. The state that made her kill Jurgen. The state she and the people needed to get rid of.

She repeated it, "How can I help you? Anything I can do, just ask. YOu don't have to tell me what you're planning just… tell me."

The halls weren't empty, but they weren't full, either.

So, she gave Gretel a tired smile and said "Just keep doing your job, lieutenant. You'll be a great help to us all."

US Embassy, Berlin

"Ah, lieutenant, a pleasure to meet you. Please, sit down."

Michaela Edwards was, to put it bluntly, exactly what he'd imagined. A kind-looking, outwardly friendly smile that seemed to glow in the room's relatively typical government-paid setup, her blonde hair in a frizzle, almost casual cut that told him she hadn't bothered to comb it all that much in the morning due to some reason or another, and most importantly than anything else, she seemed approachable. Safe. Harmless. Just a typical American woman.

A Venus flytrap.

He glanced at the seat in front of her desk. Typical wood and cotton. Cheap, but cheap was all that was really needed for it. On the desk were papers in several binders which he guessed were the real topic of discussion as there was nothing else littering its surface. No pictures, no decorative paperweights, no plants, plastic or real, and the binders themselves were unmarked.

David steeled himself as he spoke, preparing for the worst.

He pointed at the papers, then asked "I don't suppose that's my record, right? Cause I'm here about some questions regarding my, uh…" he looked around the room further as if lost, then smiled and said, "Right, issues with my documents?"

The office itself was a fairly small room, he realized. The desk, the four windowless walls, and the doorless entrance to a second office with a man and woman sitting on a couch near an empty desk with an opening to a third office further down, both reading somehting. In that second office, the woman had white hair, which seemed like it should be a very important detail, but also… not important at all. He felt an itching sensation on his forehead and lightly rubbed at it as he ignored the man entirely, waved at the girl, then turned back to the woman sitting behind the desk in front of him.

The smile Miss Edwards wore seemed to ever so slightly twitch. Hadn't he asked… right, the documents. She hadn't answered yet. No way was he letting her forget that.

He quickly added, "So, how can I help you? With my documents, I mean. The missing ones."

Edwards smiled a little more vigorously, as if to distract from something, then said, "Take a seat, we can get right to that."

He stared at the seat and complied. He'd already shown that he wasn't doing it out of ignorance. If he could keep it so it was a "give and take" type deal, then maybe things could work out well for everyone. Maybe.

Edwards handed him the first folder from the left, well, her right, while other men in the room stared in silence, their expressions unreadable. Not quite neutral, but if they were afraid or unconcerned, or miles away, worrying about something else, he couldn't tell.

"Alright, Lieutenant. We're all quite busy, so let's get to the bottom line. We need your cooperation within the GDR."

"Uh-huh." He replied casually as he opened the folder, not at all surprised to see a black and white photo of a familiar woman. Still, he felt his heart rate accelerate. A question formed in his mind. Well, less formed, more "organized" as he'd had it for a while.

"Captain Bernhard is a person of interest and someone we intend to work with."

"Were you guys in charge of that Katia-Ursula girl?"

Edwards ignored him, then said "This is, of course, an opportunity to serve your country beyond the call of duty. And given your capabilities as an F-15 pilot, we're very keen on ensuring your safety."

"Were you guys in charge of that Katia-Ursula girl?"

Again, ignoring him, Edwards said "Plus, we understand you wish to help your former-"

"So were you guys in charge of that Katia-Ursula girl?"

Edwards paused at his interruption. Her smile now vanished.

David made a point of waiting for her to answer now that she'd gone silent. He tried to stare with a pleasant smile, but he wondered how successful he was in that regard.

Edwards glanced at the other men around her, then grumbled "This isn't a game of Jeopardy, Lieutenant Elroy."

David shut the folder close, then said "Yeah. It's not. No prices in it if I win. But hey, since I guess there's no issue with my documents, meaning I was lied to about that…"

He shot a glare at the guy who'd brought him there to no reaction, and began to stand up.

Edwards said, "Sit down, lieutenant."

"...and since I was clearly lied to about you explaining everything…"

"Lieutenant-"

"I sincerely hope you have a nice day, Miss Edwards." He said, smiling back at her before turning around.

He wondered which way things would go after those words left his mouth. Venus flytraps didn't exactly have the ability to stretch out to grab the flying bugs fortunate enough to figure out the danger. Venus flytraps couldn't suddenly threaten the poor insect's family or career. They'd probably have some racket going by forcing flies to trick multiple friends into paying the plant a visit or something if that were the case.

Despite the thoughts of carnivorous plants and flying insects in his mind, Edwards answered with something he did not expect.

"Lieutenant, do you want to save her life or are you just going to abandon her like last time?"

David stopped walking there and then. Involuntary. Brain short-circuiting against his wishes. Unlike a flight computer or really any machine, he couldn't exactly reboot to fix the problem. He just had to deal with it.

He could hear the malicious smile in Edward's triumphant voice then.

"That's right, you left her all alone back then. Mom was too scared to stay when the nukes went off in Asia. You could've asked her, begged her to bring her along back to the States. You knew her brother was with the Volksarmee. Mobilization would hit her sooner or later if things got really bad. You knew she'd be far more at risk, but you left her alone. All alone. You know how awful that was."

He did not reply right away, his mind rushing through too many possibilities at once.

"After all, that's why you sought her out when you thought you recognized her. You had to confirm she was still alive the second the possibility cropped up."

Edwards wasn't asking, she was stating. Confidently.

"I mean, you can probably pretend you didn't really care. But really, for the time you were here, she was the closest person you had. Mom focused on using you, her only son, to get famous? That's rough. Old man too much of a doormat to talk back against her? Christ, the German girl who at least treated you like a person must've been a Godsend, communist or otherwise."

There was no way she could know any of that. No way. Maybe one or two things due to records, maybe a few more by guesswork, but all of them? She had to be guessing with the confidence of a scam artist. Had to be.

Still, they were damn good guesses.

"But you left her alone. All alone. Christ, how pathetic it must've felt."

He was about to answer her, forcing a cocky smile, a confident response that equated to denial but it would work, he knew, if he just delivered it properly. After all, there was no plan a well-placed hit couldn't completely destroy. Tell a medium that you lied about having a dead sister, and they crumbled apart like nothing. But that was when Edwards hit him with a sidewinder he'd never expected and automatically erased any answer he could've given from his mind.

"Even after she poured her heart out to you that evening." she said in a sing-song voice that came off as melancholy.

Yet it was like the woman had taken a knife to his chest, stabbed it into him, and twisted it like one would a pressure valve.

How monumentally stupid had he been? He was a US Citizen sent by his all too eager mother to an enemy state that loved to fund extremists within an allied nation. Of course, the CIA would have been quietly keeping tabs on him! And that meant they'd seen plenty of him and his interactions back then, even the stuff he thought was just between him and the few people he could consider friends.

Still, David was an F-15 pilot. He'd faced the BETA. He'd survived the dreaded Lux-class strains multiple times by now. He wouldn't lash out at her. Even as his hands balled into fists, and his nails dug into the skin of his palms to the point they drew blood, he kept himself in place, slowly turning to face her.

Edwards wasn't smiling anymore. She was staring at him quietly and intently. A studious, unyielding glare that bordered on anger, but not quite. Determination?

Whatever expression he had on his face, however, completely altered Edward's once their eyes met. Now the woman grinned in triumph. The maws of the trap had begun to snap shut around him. There was no escape now, and they both knew it. Not unless he thought of something in the next second that would free him from all that.

He couldn't.

"Take a seat, Lieutenant." She stated happily.

The trap shut around him, and the Venus Flytrap could now enjoy her meal.


A/N: RIGHT, that's done! Or, better put, started.

I know, I know... I'm a tease, and these were fairly short chapters compared to the last ones. Sorry, but while I wrote the entire interaction with Edwards and all the answers as to what the CIA is planning, it just could not be done without the context of the flashback chapters. Inserting flashbacks within the chapter itself in italics worked for chapter 4 I think because it was Iris reminiscing, but I couldn't get it to work right with David. He has a different point of view, and I hope to get it across with these chapters.

Yes, chapters, plural.

See, the current plan is to upload two chapters per update. One taking place in 1973 (Side B) and one taking place in 1983 (Side A). Yes, I know Side A got uploaded after Side B, but come on, imagine ending it on THAT cliffhanger, hitting "next chapter", and BLAM! It's 1973 all of a sudden. I want the update to end on a note that should hopefully keep you guys invested before the action kicks back up again.

And I promise, it WILL kick back up again. Schwarzesmarken gave me a LOT to work with even if it's untranslated.

But if I don't give the flashbacks showing truly how close or distant David was to the Bernhards and Beatrix, as well as exactly how David feels about things, then when the action starts off, it won't hit as effectively, and... well, some things are just going to need the hand of a flashback to function. Hopefully, that makes itself clear soon.

But yeah, the CIA is doing CIA things, and Irisdina is... well, you'll all see.

I'm excited to continue this project, and while I'd love to say that the next update will be soon, I've unfortunately learned from experience not to promise things. Heck, it's been almost a year since the last time I updated this story. Last update was literally in December of 2023 (right now it's September 8, 2024).

But I do hope the wait is worth it and that these chapters, even if it was more set up, were at least fun to read.

Seriously, thanks a ton for your patience, and for reading. It is greatly appreciated and I hope this story keeps you all invested as we approach... well... not quite the end just yet.

But we're getting there.

Once again, thanks to Kilian for proofreading these chapters. Helps a ton.

Thanks so much for reading, and hope to see you all soon!