Origins: The Reich (18 page)

“So what?” came Tomal’s nonchalant reply on his way to unlock the door.

“Captain, we’ve got
a serious problem on our hands,” Gallono said without a hint of his usual levity.  If they were speaking by telephone Hastelloy might have missed the clues, but the six-inch tall representation of the commander’s face inside a blue cone of light let him know Gallono was deadly serious.

The simple fact that he used the disk communicator to reach him was significant.  Hastelloy allowed Gallono to take the piece of advanced Novi technology because his task was to keep Tomal in line.  If things started to go sour with that assignment, communicating via telephone would not be an option.  Phone lines were easy to tap and record.  Even speaking in their native Novi language might not work since Tomal was one of them; thus the risk of cultural contamination by taking a futuristic tool out of quarantine from the Nexus chamber back in Egypt was justified.

“What’s happened?” Hastelloy asked.

“Tomal’s darker habits have surfaced again, and I won’t be able to contain him for much longer.  He’s gone over the edge before, but this is a whole new low.  It’s like Tomal and Hitler were brothers separated at birth.  Their need for power, ruthless methods, and belief in their born supremacy just feed and compound upon each other and it’s grown out of control,” Gallono said. 

Hastelloy trusted the commander’s judgment, but he also knew he had history with Tomal.  That being the case, he decided to challenge the commander’s assessment of the situation. “From the outside looking in, I see you and Tomal accomplishing your mission with great effectiveness.  Nearly all of Europe is united under one leadership and, more importantly, the Nazis are committing massive resources toward developing rocketry.  Their V weapons projects are progressing at a lightning quick pace, no doubt aided by Tomal’s technological suggestions.”

“True, but did you know that the Nazis have been acquiring the means to build an atomic weapon?  The annexation of Norway in 1934 had nothing to do with territory or resources.  It was about the Vemork Heavy Water Plant.  Centrifuges, and fissile materials have all been on Tomal’s shopping list of late,” Gallono added.

Hastelloy was well aware of Tomal’s activities.  He also knew that almost no resources were going toward designing an atom bomb.  “What’s your point?  We eventually need to hit the Alpha base on Mars with nuclear or fusion weapons.  Developing an atom bomb is the next logical step.”

“Have you considered what could happen if Hitler, Tomal, and their Nazi friends get hold of nuclear weapons loaded on rockets that can reach any place on the globe?”

“Tomal is one of us,” Hastelloy insisted.  “He goes over the edge sometimes, but in the end he always does right by the mission.  Besides, you’ll be there to pull him back.”

“No I won’t, not if Tomal has anything to say about it,” Gallono responded, his anger obvious.  “Tomal sought to discredit and weaken my influence within the army during the invasion of France by setting me up for failure.  When that didn’t work, he placed my divisions in the path of retreating British forces, denied me air support, and delayed reinforcements for days.  He tried to eliminate me, plain and simple.  That way he’d be free to operate without supervision.”

“Why, to what end?” Hastelloy asked.

Gallono became visibly agitated with Hastelloy’s questioning and went straight to the point.  “Toss the covert gathering of atomic materials and trying to kill me aside, he’s exterminating people.  The severely handicapped are being taken from their families and euthanized in hospitals to save resources.  Along those lines, you’ve heard about the camps, right?”

“Yes, French and Polish prisoners are being sent to work camps as slave labor to manufacture war materials,” Hastelloy answered.  “It’s unfortunate, but a fairly common practice in war.”

“Those camps I can live with, I’m talking about the ones in Poland where all the Jews are being sent,” Gallono went on with great concern in his voice.  “Millions of them have just vanished overnight to these camps and I can tell you, there are no food resources allocated to Poland.  Rumor has it they’re being starved to death.”

“The Jews, Captain.  The ancestors of those you led out of the Egyptian desert.  The ones Tomal has openly dubbed ‘your people’.  He is wiping them out for no other reason than he thinks they’re a part of some plot of yours to rule the world.”

“I say this to you now with every confidence; Tomal is no longer with our cause,” Gallono insisted.  “Something has gotten into him, into his head that goes beyond his megalomania.  He is delusional.  He may even believe deep down that he is doing the right thing for our mission by fighting you and the rest of us under your command.  Either way, I now consider him an active enemy to our mission here on this planet.”

He was aware that Gallono had some bad history with Tomal, but in all the lifetimes they had served together, he never knew Gallono to overstate the severity of a situation.  The commander was the consummate professional and knew how to keep his personal feelings out of things.

Hastelloy clasped his hands in front of his face and took a minute to think.  He decided to plan for the worst and hope for the best.  “I need you to do two things.  First, talk up Valnor’s position of power and achievements in the Soviet Union.  That should tweak Tomal’s jealousy enough to push Hitler and the Nazis into making some mistakes.”

“Second, I need you to get yourself assigned a command in Northern Africa.  This will get you away from Tomal and in position to take over Egypt and surround the Nexus with forces loyal to us.  If what you say is true, he may very well try to use the Nexus or the gravity weapon as leverage against us.  If you’re wrong, then I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

**********

Hastelloy tried his best to push his conversation with Gallono aside as he stood outside President Roosevelt’s closed office door.  To do so, he focused on the fact that this would be his first time seeing the new Oval Office.  He hoped this architect showed better taste than the last, though that would not be difficult.  With the walls of the previous office of the president draped in sea grass green burlap with even lighter green carpeting, it was garish in the extreme, but quite memorable.

That was indeed the point back in 1910 when President Taft commissioned the first Oval Office.  Bright colors were expensive and rare back then.  Displaying them in such quantity and prominence was a powerful show of prosperity for the young nation.  Thirty years later, colored wall paint was affordable to all and rendered the room simply hideous; the fire in 1929 did the nation a great service by consuming the first incarnation of the Oval Office.

When he gained entry, Hastelloy resisted the impulse to look around.  Instead, he focused his attention on the President who rolled up in his wheelchair to greet him at the door.  Seeing a prominent world leader so physically handicapped was extremely rare in Hastelloy’s experience, and it would likely never happen again on this planet with the advent of television. 

Hearing about a man’s physical ailment, or even looking at a photograph in the paper was one thing, but seeing it on screen in motion was quite another.  The sad fact was it conveyed an unacceptable sense of weakness for a leader.  A sentiment reinforced by the administration’s dogged work to downplay the President’s incapacity; a point of leverage Hastelloy had regretfully used upon occasion to get what he needed from the President.

After a firm handshake, President Roosevelt gestured with his free hand toward a pair of couches facing each other in the center of the room. “Director, please join us for an update on the situation in Europe.”

Hastelloy took his seat alone on one couch and looked across at Secretary of State, Cordell Hull, and the newly appointed Secretary of War, Henry Stimson.  Hastelloy had all but forced the President to replace the former Secretary of War with evidence of his illegal trading activities on the New York Stock Exchange.  It did not matter that the evidence was fabricated, the mere implication was enough to get the fanatically anti-war man out of the administration.  His replacement, Mr. Stimson, was far more open to the idea of joining the war in Europe before the Nazis owned the entire continent. 

“First things first, what is the status on French and their resistance groups?” the President asked of Hastelloy since his network of informants was far more extensive than that of the armed services.

“They are a minor annoyance at best.  The various partisan groups have sabotaged a few rail lines, and intercepted some supply shipments.  One cell even managed to free a handful of military prisoners heading for Germany to work in forced labor camps.  It’s something, but the German’s are confident enough in their control to move entire air wing groups up along the coast to start bombing England from three different directions.”

“How are the English holding up?” President Roosevelt asked his Secretary of State.

“Despite facing overwhelming numbers, the English airmen are faring quite well actually.”

“How?  How are they doing this?” the President marveled.  “The Battle of Britain is entering its fourth month now.  Our initial estimates had the Luftwaffe taking no more than a week to eliminate the Royal Air Force command in southern England.  Then they would begin landing assault troops and armor divisions. Given how quickly France fell, we thought it was a matter of weeks until England followed.  How are they doing this?”

Secretary Stimson inclined his head toward Hastelloy and said, “A lot of bravery, perseverance, and a healthy helping of good intelligence gathered from spies.  For more details than that, you’ll have to ask our resident spy expert.”

“Surprisingly, there’s not a lot to it,” Hastelloy began.  “For the expense of a few dozen radio transmitters delivered to French farmers near the coast, the English know when an assault wave is coming.  Couple that with their early detection network of radar stations and the Royal Air Force is able to intercept the bombing raids with equal numbers and minimize the damage they can cause.”

“Plus, we have a mountain of disinformation for the handful of German informants to sift through to try and locate English factories.  As a result, many of the bombs dropped by German planes that do manage to get through the fighter screen hit empty warehouses rather than active manufacturing sites or military installations.  The bottom line is the British, for the moment, are giving as good as they are taking.”

“But for how long?  Can they replace their losses?” Secretary Stimson asked.

Hastelloy nodded his head slightly. “For the moment, yes they can hold out.  English factories are currently churning out three hundred new planes a month.  The real limiting factor is the number of trained pilots, a limitation shared by the Germans as well.  The key difference is that when an English pilot gets shot down, he opens his parachute and lands on friendly soil. 

“German pilots, on the other hand, land in hostile territory and face capture or execution.”

“So that’s it then, the English will hold out?” President Roosevelt asked, more as a statement.

Hastelloy’s nodding motion turned sideways for a negative shake of the head. “The problem is that Germany has a much bigger pool of resources from which to pull.  Eventually the Germans will get better intelligence and manage to break through the air defenses on a regular basis.  At that point, they will start destroying the factories so that when an English plane goes down, it will not be replaced.  When that happens, the war for the British Isles will be over.  We need to join the fight and give them help.”

“That’s a no go,” Secretary Hull responded.  “You’ve seen the latest opinion polls Mr. President.  Public support for a war in Europe is simply non-existent.”

“You can take executive action for six months without answering to anyone,” Hastelloy suggested.

“Six months, are you serious?” Secretary Hull countered.  “We won’t even get trained troops over there in six months, and then Congress will just call them back because there’s no way they will ratify an official declaration  of war without massive public support.  That’s just a statement of fact.”

“All right, all right,” President Roosevelt said with his hands out wide in front of him to stop the heated exchange.  “Short of declaring war or sending troops, what can we do to support England until we can sway public opinion to favor war?”

“Ship raw materials to England in order to keep their factories going,” the Secretary of War offered.  “Their U-boats will sink quite a few shipments, but enough will get through with proper escort to make a difference.”

“Good, what else?” the President prompted.

“Research,” Hastelloy suggested.  “I have it on good authority that the Germans have dedicated nearly a third of their nation’s budget to research projects, and many of those new technologies are coming along at a frightening clip.”

“Like what?” the President asked.

“Aircraft propelled by rocket and jet engines rather than propeller.  The prototypes are easily two times faster than the best plane the British or the United States has to offer.  Also, they are developing two variants of self-guided flying bombs.  One flies much like a plane and can therefore be shot down, but the second is far more threatening.”

“The project is still top secret, which is why the Germans are not boasting about the accomplishment, but their most recent V-2 rocket tests actually put a manmade object into outer space.”