Chapter 43
Miserable. Completely and utterly miserable. From bow to stern, Blücher was frozen. Men with hand tools chipped away at chunks of ice frozen to every part of her. Guns and turrets. Anchor chains frozen to the deck. Even her rangefinders were festooned with icicles. The German crew was hardly unfamiliar with cold, but even they were bundled up tightly. And still freezing.
Made one wonder how the men fighting ashore felt.
Or it would, were Blücher in any condition to care.
"Achoo!!"
As an explosive sneeze left her system, the cruiser was most assuredly not in any such condition. Blücher sniffled pitifully, a hand rubbing at her violet eyes. Her gaze drifting over to her Captain, who was studiously looking the exact opposite direction.
"Caaaaappppptttttaaaaaiiiiinnnn," the cruiser pouted, her voice stuffy and weak. "Can't we go home now? Pleaseeeee?" Fighting down another sneeze, the pink-haired girl grumbled a bit under her breath. "Norway was better than this."
Lange made no sign he heard the cruiser. No vocal sign, anyway. Blücher's watery eyes narrowed, when she saw a twitch of the man's lips. A very suspicious twitch of his lips, as his shoulders straightened back.
"Captain, don't make fun o--of--of--" Blücher couldn't finish her sentence, as a truly massive sneeze flew from her. A roar from her foghorn joined it, sending her crew scattering in confusion...even as pieces of ice fell crashing down on her deck. One enterprising sailor even jumped over the railing by a flak nest and caught a piece of ice in his hands as he fell.
That one was going to get a good drink later on.
For his part, Lange gave up on hiding his amusement. Deep chuckles rumbled up from his chest, as the dark haired officer turned his smile fully on his cruiser. An amused smirk, really. "Do you think you scared the birds enough, Blücher? Perhaps you should try louder next time?"
"Ve--very funny," the miserable girl mumbled back. Her pale hands brought her deep-red scarf up to her face, rubbing at her nose. Her face was a brighter pink than her hair, flushed by both cold and embarrassment. More so the former, to be fair. "You try having ice all over your body and tell me how y--you feel!"
"Oh I would, but I'm quite warm. Thank you for caring about your dear Captain, Blücher." The officer's smirk grew ever more amused. His own hands were firmly held in warm pockets, of a thick coat. Those poor fools in their trenches and tanks were freezing to death.
But, damnit, the Kriegsmarine actually cared about their officers! Just not their ships, apparently, as Blücher clutched her arms to her side. Perhaps a golden miniskirt and a sleeveless top wasn't the smartest clothing choice for this kind of weather? Who knew?
I thought I was done with the cold after Norway. Grumbling to herself, the pink-haired girl pulled her arms closer to her chest. Practically hugging herself now, she sent her Captain a huge pout. "Captain, can we at least go somewhere warmer?"
While a smile remained on his face, Lange shook his head. His smirk finally falling away, to be replaced by a semi-serious look. "You know we can't, Blücher."
"But why..."
That complaint was said in such a tiny, childish voice that Lange couldn't help but place his hand on the suffering cruiser's head. And give it a firm pat, ignoring the way it deepened her pout and blush alike.
"Our mission is out here, and you know that as well as I do." Giving one more pat, Lange removed his hand. His gaze trailing out over the foggy sea, to the blurred form of Nürnberg in the distance. The occasional flash of light the only sign that she was firing her guns at the shore. "Or would you rather be in port, having the English bomb us day and night?"
Despite herself, Blücher shuddered a little at the thought. "No...no I wouldn't be."
"Then you know why we're out here, and why you're frozen solid." Lange's deep voice held a trace of amusement once more, though it didn't last. Letting out a deep breath- that quickly fogged over in the cold air -the Captain turned away from the deck and began pacing the bridgewing. Deep in thought, as he looked at Blücher and her crew alike. "A better question is what we'll do to help the Admiral. You have any luck with the rest of the crew yet?"
Blücher sniffled a bit, her pale and very bare legs carrying her alongside her Captain. Moving at least kept her a little more warm. "Not really. I don't think they care about me enough. Inconsiderate little..."
As his cruiser grumbled, the Captain laughed at her almost...affronted reaction. "I feel as if I should point out that you have tossed a member of the crew overboard. What if Emden hadn't been there to pick him up?"
"He would have deserved it!" Blücher did not whine. Her violet eyes did glare though. "He did deserve it. The SS are all monsters after all."
Lange stopped moving long enough to kick a chunk of ice over the side, where it crashed down to the deck and drew muffled curses from the men on cleanup duty. Chuckling a bit at that, the Captain looked over his shoulder at the pink-haired girl by his side. "Did he though? And are they?"
"Captain?"
At the confusion in the girl's voice, Lange could only sigh. "Look, Blücher. My wife is at constant risk, all because of a little bit of Jewish history. I have every reason to hate the SS--"
"Then I'm right!" The cruiser was quick to declare, triumph in her violet gaze. "They are monsters!"
"--but that doesn't mean I don't know there are still good men in the SS." The Captain finished his sentence, raising an eyebrow at the way Blücher tugged her scarf over her mouth again. "Every organization can have some good men who are being misled."
It was his hope that this would get through to Blücher. She had a very black-and-white view of war. The Admiral was right, and everyone else was wrong. He couldn't really deny hating the SS himself.
He did live in constant fear that he would lose his wife.
However, he wasn't going to tar every German with the same brush. He couldn't. Some of his lifelong friends had joined, and he could hardly convince himself that all of them were evil men who had hid it from him. He liked to think he was a better judge of character than that. Or so Lange told himself. If he was actually right about them or not...well. That was a question for a different time.
As he took off his coat, and wrapped it around Blücher's shoulders. Giving the confused cruiser a warm smile as he did so.
"This being said, I was amused when you tossed that man overboard. I've wanted to do it myself more than once." Grinning at the girl's triumphant expression, Lange patted her shoulder. "Now if only he had drowned so I didn't have to listen to all his complaining...you know how much work that is?"
"I'm sure you're perfectly alright, Captain," Blücher sent the same smirk he had worn right back at him. She lifted her pink-haired head up imperiously, staring down her bright red nose at the older man. "If I ha--have to suffer like this, so do you!"
Lange could only laugh out loud, shaking his head at the girl's antics. She was certainly a handful!
Now, if only we can figure out how to get her off this ship. I'm sorry Admiral, but you need all the help you can get...
Gustav Schreiber shook his head in disbelief, "You can hardly be serious, can you?"
The old man's face was scrunched up in frustration, the lines across it growing ever deeper. He knew he had more lines since the last time he had seen this man, and the time-traveler could firmly state the man across from him looked older as well. And yet, Hans Oster was no worse for wear than he had been last. Despite being the very closest thing to a 'leader' the resistance in the Heer had.
"I assure you, I am." Oster took a sip from the tea in front of the men, leaning back in his richly upholstered chair. It had been his suggestion to hold this meeting in such an informal place as the General's hunting lodge. It helped remove suspicion if he was meeting with the 'war hero' while Bismarck underwent repairs before she joined her sister in Norway.
It didn't make it any less strange to see Oster set his cup down and smile thinly when he continued speaking. "What you are asking is madness, Herr Schreiber. Even for a man of your...stature. I'm sure you know you've set our plans back even further by your victory over that convoy and returning Bismarck home right under the nose of the Royal Navy."
Recreating the Channel Dash was not one of Schreiber's prouder moments. However, he knew staying in France was suicidal. So he had...done all he could. He needed to be closer to home.
That it allows me to intercept supplies to the Soviets is a secondary bonus. Much as I am loathe to admit it, even to myself.
Shaking his head, the Admiral stared at the General and began his counterpoint, "And you know that we have no choice. If we don't begin planning for a successor government now, it will not matter if we ever unseat the Führer." Schreiber clenched his hands tightly, his grip shaking slightly. "The British, and now the Americans, will never support us if we don't present a unified front."
"You aren't wrong." Oster sighed deeply, placing his tea back on the desk. The General leaned back, his hard featured face softening slightly. The deep furrows in his brow refused to fade, however. "I can see where you are leading me, Admiral. You are not quite as good at this game as you may think you are."
No, I am far better than you believe me to be. Schreiber returned the sigh, frowning now. "Then you understand how dangerous it is to allow the situation to continue as it is?"
Placing his hands on the desk, Oster leaned forward. Dark eyes stared into Schreiber, set in an imperturbable face. Oster never showed much real emotion in these meetings and had never once raised his voice. In that regard, at least, Schreiber knew he was outmatched. There was a reason this man had been as successful in the past as he had been.
"Between what you have done to the English and the successes in the East- I do believe Rommel just took a Russian army prisoner -it is harder now, than ever, to contemplate a coup." The slightly older man bored into Schreiber, not once letting up. Oster was soft spoken, but he rarely stopped before getting his point across. "Most of the Generals, even including those who are of like mind to us, are unwilling to do anything. The Russians have pushed us back, but it seems to be a temporary setback at most."
"It won't be." Schreiber muttered darkly. Flashes of men with oddly shaped helmets and Kalashnikov rifles slung over their shoulders flashed through his mind. He ruthlessly stamped down on the images.
If Oster noticed his reaction, the man didn't show it. "Perhaps. Even so, our support in the OKW is weaker than it has ever been, Herr Schreiber. If we moved now, it is entirely possible we would all be killed as traitors and the war would continue. Even if we succeeded in removing the entire leadership of the Führer's government."
"I am not suggesting that," Schreiber grimaced at the thought. It had occurred to him more than once. He had kept himself from moving against Hitler with the reminder that doing it before the man lost his 'touch' was only going to get him killed.
It was the only way he was able to stomach being near the man.
Sucking in a breath, the Admiral leaned back in his own plush chair. Nicer than any he had ever had himself...a reminder that he was working with the upper crust of pre-war German society, even if Oster didn't have a 'von' on his name. A bitter pill in its own right.
"What I hope to do, is connect our groups." Holding his hands up, the Admiral brought a finger down. "The Abwehr." Another finger followed. "The Generals in the Heer." A third. "The civilian groups." A fourth. "And the Kriegsmarine."
A sigh answered him, accompanied by a slow nod. "A reasonable goal to have, yet we have remained secure by doing the opposite, Herr Schreiber." It was the General's turn to hold up a hand, continuing their little sparring match as the sun shone thin beams through a covered window.
Those beams shadowed Oster's face, giving him an almost...dark...expression.
"The Gestapo has flaws. The SS has flaws. However, informants are everywhere. Tying our nets together only risks creating more leaks. For every man we contact, a dozen would inform on him. We have survived by avoiding contact." The Abwehr officer frowned deeply. "If a spy should find his way in, and implicates Beck...what then? Or perhaps a spy implicates your Captain on Bismarck. Would you trust him with your life?"
There was no hesitation. "No, I wouldn't."
Schreiber just did not know enough about Lindemann to trust him. He had taken a large enough risk with Lange, and thanked God every day it had not come back to hurt him.
"Of course. Just as I cannot trust some of the Communist groups." Oster's lip curled now, a very definite sign of distaste for the Communists. An expression that didn't vanish as he stood up and began to walk to the window. "I hardly even trust Goerdeler, most of the time."
With the man's back turned to him, Schreiber allowed a disgruntled look to flit across his face. This was what the Nazis had done to Germany. What the Soviets would do to Germany, if they ever occupied the nation. Made it where no one could trust anyone. Where every man could sell you out for a chance to get up in the world, or just to protect his own family. Or for something as selfish as money.
Schreiber hated it. He hated that this was what had become of the nation he loved. He hated that he couldn't save the country without working with men like this. He hated...he hated...
As quick as it came, the look vanished. His shoulders slumped down. There was no other choice, if his other plan did not work. He could only hope it did, while he continued to try to work his own path through the tangled web that was the German Resistance. At least he knew exactly who he could trust, even if he could never hope to remember all their names.
Oster...Canaris...Beck...Goerdeler...
"Now, Admiral Schreiber," still facing the window, Oster spoke up again. In a hard voice. "I have a good judgement on the Heer and Luftwaffe. The Kriegsmarine, however, I am not so certain. You claim that you have support."
Turning back around, Oster stared at Schreiber with narrowed eyes.
"However, how do you intend to deal with Raeder? He will never betray the Führer."
A thin smile crossed Schreiber's face, "That, my friend, I have no worries about. It is little secret that the Führer trusts me more than he trusts Raeder. I am confident I can use that."
Oster returned the smile, "Oh?"
"Let me work with the Navy, Herr Oster, and you with the Abwehr. Or was all that talk for nothing?" Schreiber raised a challenging eyebrow, blue staring into brown.
There was silence in the room, as the two men stared at the other. Silence...until Oster chuckled lightly, shaking his head in clear amusement. "I see you are better at this than you act, Gustav."
Schreiber let his smile fade, replaced by his own chuckle. "Indeed. Now, there are two subjects you should be aware of."
"Hmm?" Oster returned to his seat, whatever tension in the room vanishing as the man poured more tea.
"First, I have a connection in the British government." Schreiber almost relished the way Oster's hands shook for a second, before the man's iron self-control reasserted itself. The reaction was worth the stress. To fluster a man as hard to read as Hans Oster.
Placing the kettle down, Oster's attention was lazer-focused on his counterpart once more. "I see...and you kept this a secret? I understand the Abwehr has...flaws. Most put in there intentionally. However, this is quite a surprise, my friend."
Of course it was, considering that connection had been made through Bismarck.
"I am still working at convincing them to aid us," Schreiber clarified, before the other man got any ideas. "However, you will find not everyone in London is blind to our efforts. For all that that fat cigar-smoker says that he hates us, he would jump at the chance to keep the Soviets out of Western Europe all the same."
Even the hard-bitten Oster couldn't stop a snort at that description of Winston Churchill. It wasn't exactly inaccurate.
"As for how I made the connection...that is something I can't tell you. Though I imagine you will find out soon enough."
Schreiber's eyes lost their focus, as he remembered the rumors circulating about the Americans. The attack on Pearl Harbor...a week early and no matter how the Japanese tried to hide it, much worse for them. If nothing else, he doubted the Americans were lying about the damage they did. More importantly than that...they were horrible at hiding rumors. They probably let a few out because it was so unbelievable to just about everyone and would make people stop looking. Like those alien reports in the future.
He was not everyone.
Ship girls. If this is true, I can only wonder how my actions caused this. Smiling inwardly, Schreiber considered his situation. Yet, it is also helpful. It will be easier to sell my own situation to skeptics when this gets out.
"It's a shame you won't join the Abwehr, Admiral," Oster's voice was still cold, but there was an undercurrent of warmth now. "You would be quite an asset."
The Admiral waved his hand, "I am perfectly content where I am, thank you. Now..." Taking a sip of his own tea, Schreiber closed his eyes and prepared for his second bit of news.
It was only when the warm liquid soothed his throat, that the Admiral opened blue eyes and spoke.
"Secondly, I have begun to work with the Resistance groups in other nations." Schreiber would relish the gobsmacked look on Hans 'no reaction' Oster's face for the rest of his life. "Don't give me that look. You are acting to save the Jews as well, and that is all I am doing. I do believe another operation will be taking place in Amsterdam soon enough..."
And I hope you know what you are doing, old friend.
And there we go.
This fought me for several reasons.
1. It is hard to write stuff like this and make it believable.
2. It is equally hard to find motivation for KC stuff these days.
3. Things kept getting in the way.
Regardless, I hope people enjoy the chapter. I also hope I didn't lose many readers with this delay. I guess I'll see when the ratings start coming in, though the Schreiber chapters never do get quite as many...
(already working on the next one. That will be the 'Ground level' of the Resistance, if you will. Like I said, next couple are German chapters)
