“You seem sure of that,” Ritter observed dubiously. “Even if I’m returned to the…” his voice faltered momentarily as he caught himself and rephrased “…to my own people, what makes you think I’d be able to make a difference? I’m nothing more than a front line officer… I have no say in policy or strategic decisions…”
“You will if you go back,” Thorne stopped Ritter in mid-sentence. “In Realtime — that’s what we call the original path of history that’s now being altered — you’d attain the rank of generalmajor later in the war, and be posted as an advisor on the Führer’s General Staff. I have reason to believe that in this OKW, you’ll probably go a lot further, particularly considering that Germany’s unlikely to be defeated and will last quite a bit longer than the Realtime Grossdeutschland.
“If you join us, this may go on for many years,” he continued after a breath. “We need you to place yourself as high as you can within the Wehrmacht, and that may sometimes force you to issue orders you don’t agree with or condone. You’ll need to get yourself as close to the OKW hierarchy — Reuters, Schiller and the others — as you possibly can. It may be that they’ll even take you into their confidence regarding the existence of the New Eagles, and what they’ve done for Germany: if they do, you’ll need to remain disbelieving and sceptical. I’m not going to lie to you: this battle may never be over.”
“How will that save these millions of lives when they will already be dead?”
“There’s no telling where they’ll take that Realtime figure of six million to… in an Germany undefeated and unassailed by invading armies, that figure could easily double or triple in ten or twenty years. Every ‘undesirable’ element of the European populace will fall victim to their ‘Final Solution’: gypsies, Slovaks, those who are politically ‘unreliable’; Poles and Serbs; people with disabilities, either physical or mental. They too will all go to the gas chambers. Twenty-five thousand a week, shipped in rail cars to their ‘resettlement’ programs for God knows how many years. We can’t help the original six million people exterminated in Realtime — that’s something we can’t change — but we can make sure that figure doesn’t become ten million or twenty million.”
Ritter hung his head in despair at that thought. The man before him was talking about a betrayal of his country and his people, and he was already taking to the idea readily. In the face of such damning evidence, there didn’t seem to be any alternative.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Although extremely simple in theory, the task will prove far less so in practical terms. Just like us, Reuters and his group of ‘New Eagles’ have returned from the future to change history. Because of what’s already changed over the last few years, we now know they arrived long before we did here at Scapa Flow, just a few months ago: the level of change and German technological development we’ve seen makes it quite clear they’ve been her for a number of years already. We know where they returned to the past, but what we still need to find out is the exact date and time they arrived.”
“Something that simple…?”
“Not so simple when you think about it. How many people would know the truth outside of their own ranks? How few of those who did know would actually know the correct date and exact time? How much suspicion would someone arouse should it be discovered that they were trying to uncover that information…? There wouldn’t be too many reasons one would want to find those details out…”
Ritter shook his head as he tried to understand the reasoning behind it all. “What good would this time and date be anyway… what could you do with the information?”
“Due to the peculiarities of physics behind time travel, we’re already too late to stop this group before they left our time… our only hope is to intercept them upon arrival in yours. We need that specific time and date so we can be lying in wait for them when they turn up, and destroy them all before they can make contact with the Nazis and change the true course of history. It’s the only hope we have of putting everything right and leaving the past the way it’s supposed to be.”
“Tell me,” Ritter began after a long, thoughtful pause. “What is my fate in this ‘Realtime’? What happens to me… and to my wife and these children…?” His eyes locked with Thorne’s in that moment, and the Australian knew he had to reveal as much of the truth as he dared… a lie would be spotted immediately and would destroy everything he’d worked toward.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t ask me that,” Thorne made a pale attempt at a smile. “As I already said, you reach the rank of generalmajor with the OKW. Following a successful Allied invasion of Normandy in July of 1944, your officer corps devises a desperate plot to assassinate Hitler, aimed at giving the Wehrmacht a chance to sue for peace before Germany is destroyed completely. A bomb is placed near Hitler by an officer named Von Stauffenberg during a staff meeting, but the explosion fails to kill him. Dozens of officers are subsequently rounded up and executed as part of the Führer’s retributions, Field Marshal Erwin Rommel among them… another of those executed would be you…” The last sentence trailed off as Ritter winced visibly.
“I have no Realtime knowledge of the existence of the two boys you’ve adopted, but I know your wife survives the war… along with a son who, in Realtime, was born sometime in early 1940. Why this hasn’t happened in this version of history I can’t say, but it would no doubt be something to do with the changes already wrought by the New Eagles.”
“A son…” Ritter muttered, staring at the concrete floor and fighting back tears as he took in the information. He drew a deep breath and released it in a long sigh before raising his head to meet Thorne’s eyes once more. “You’ve been honest with me,” he acknowledged slowly. “You could’ve lied about my fate in order to engage my help… you’ve instead taken an honourable path, even thought it might hinder your cause. You too, I think, are an honourable man.”
“It’s not always all it’s cracked up to be,” Thorne observed with a shrug and some dark sarcasm. “Sometimes you’re expected to ‘put your money where your mouth is’.”
“I think I understand this phrase,” Ritter decided after considering what Thorne had just said, “and I think that you are correct: honour unsupported by action is no honour at all.” There was a moment’s pause as the pilot took one last, deep breath and took a step forward, extending his hand. “I will help you in any way I’m able… for however long is required…”
“I’d like to say you won’t regret this decision,” Thorne smiled ruefully, accepting the hand in a firm shake, “but I reckon that’d be a lie.”
“I already regret it…”
Thorne’s wry smile broadened as he nodded in understanding. “Welcome aboard…”