‘The Space Ministry have spared no expense with this project of theirs, believe me,’ Blomberg said as he put the glasses back on. He adjusted them as he looked around the salon again. ‘Every whim is to be catered for to keep the construction workers, the guards, and now your crew, happy while they are stuck here in the arse-hole of the Reich. Still, the very idea of cavorting with those creatures of the night fills me with disgust. Shouldn’t their minds be focussed on the task ahead? Aren’t they meant to be spreading the majesty of the Reich and not the clap?’
Stahl finally cracked a smile and a small part of his passive shell fell away.
‘I fear that’ll be our own Doctor Huber’s concern when we reach Vanaheim,’ Stahl replied. ‘No doubt he’ll be treating intergalactic crabs and gonorrhoea for years to come,’ Stahl said. ‘Another first for Nazi Germany,’ he then added jokingly.
Both men laughed nervously because even here, amongst the boisterous atmosphere, the fear of saying the wrong thing still pervaded. Even someone as powerful as Stahl, someone who one would have thought had nothing to fear from such trivialities, had to watch every word he said, and so he sensibly decided to move the conversation onto more safer territory. Territory far from the lecherous behaviour of the Nazi astronauts.
‘What plans do you have once the camp is closed?’ Stahl asked. ‘Will you find another posting here in the Outer Territories?’
‘Not a chance!’ Blomberg exclaimed. ‘No offence to all those heroic colonists on the likes of the Moon, Europa, or on Mars, but I fully intend to return to my family back on Earth. I’ve had my fill of the Outer Territories. I’m fed up of recycled water, recycled air, recycled food. I want my feet back on the ground. For three years I’ve been stuck here in this camp away from my family. My child was born just before I was stationed out here. In fact, I’ve never seen her in the flesh, only on messages via the video-com.’
‘That must have been hard,’ Stahl said sympathetically.
‘It has been,’ Blomberg nodded. ‘I’m sure you understand my feelings on the matter. Have you been dragged away from your family, Herr Stahl?’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘Men of my rank in the SS aren’t allowed the privilege of a family. Our seed is seen to be precious and only allowed to be spread under the strict controls of the Lebensborn program.’
‘Forgive me for being so crass! I should have known.’
Stahl waved away the apology. He was far from offended. ‘Continue telling me about your plans, Blomberg.’
‘Once my family and I are reunited we plan to settle in the East. I know the government are always looking for volunteers to head out there. The incentives offered are endless. And considering all the time I’ve spent in this shit-hole, I think I could easily make a success on those steppes. It would be good to carry on the tradition of all those pioneers with my family.’
Stahl was tempted to say to Blomberg that the East was an over-rated experience, but thought better of it. He knew all about the harsh realities of those Eastern lands. It was far from the romantic Nazi vision presented to the masses. Life was hard, brutally hard, and Konrad knew that this young man’s obvious idealism and enthusiasm would soon disappear once he arrived in the settlements such as Hitlerstadt. These new towns and cities, built on the ruins of the pre-war cities of Kiev and Stalingrad, were bland and soul-less compared to the great cities of Germany. Their low-rise, concrete buildings, both civic and domestic, appeared as dull and depressing as the flat, featureless steppes that surrounded them. The East was the graveyard of countless Nazi romantics.
‘I’m sure you’ll do very well out there, Blomberg. But now, if you forgive me, I intend to do as I promised myself when we first met and retire for the evening.’
Stahl clicked his heels together politely, then downed the rest of the lager. But as he placed the empty bottle back on the bar, the lights dimmed and a spot-light shone into life. The light seemed to hypnotise the SS officer as for some reason he stood on the spot to watch what the bright beam heralded.
An introductory bass-drum thumped around the salon as a jackboot emerged from between the satin curtains, kicking in time with the jaunty beat. Then as the trumpets and tubas exalted, the curtains parted to reveal a Nazi wet-dream. Tight-fitting breeches rose from the gleaming jackboots and a pair of black braces stretched over the woman’s bare milky chest, while her gloved hands rested on her swinging hips. Her bright-red lips, which matched her swastika arm-band, parted as her tongue emerged to ring them suggestively. She then flicked the blonde hair from her shoulders and tapped the rim of her Nazi cap with a riding-crop and winked at the expectant Nazis who all exploded lustily in appreciation. The introduction complete, she strode down the runway, each step in time with the jovial march. Occasionally she would stop and spin on the spot, a thumb pulling at the elastic braces to briefly expose her breasts.
Like his comrades, Stahl was entranced and as he watched, the music, the cheering, the whistles, they all faded into the ether as his focus zeroed in on the exotic stormtrooper. This reaction was unexpected considering the calibre of the other women who occupied the fräuenblock, and to Stahl this attraction was disturbing considering his low opinion of the female inmates and their place in the scheme of things, but he let his prejudices drift away on a sea of desire as he continued to watch the routine. The dancer stepped off the stage and squeezed between the aroused men, patting cheeks and grabbing hardened crotches, and even occasionally selecting a lucky volunteer whose lap she would grind into erotically. As Stahl watched from across the room and his loins stirred, a sense of jealously suddenly took a hold of him. He wanted this girl for himself. He wanted her to be offering herself to him, and him alone.
But this voyeuristic spell was suddenly broken as the Odin’s own medical officer made an unwelcome appearance. The very drunk Doctor Huber staggered before Stahl and blocked the view of his dream woman. With Huber was a female inmate. Her scruffy hair was highlighted with pink streaks that matched the lipstick that was smeared across her gaunt face. Her tired looking eyes were ringed by thick black make-up, which like the lipstick, had been smudged like some disfigured painting. Stahl noticed that the girl was not happy to be the doctor’s object of desire as she squirmed to fight off the wandering hands.
‘Why aren’t you enjoying yourself with one these delicious girls, Stahl?’ Huber asked. ‘You can’t stand at that bar all night like an old maid. Enjoy yourself before it’s too late and we’re all cooped up in those damned hibernation tanks.’
Stahl waved him away dismissively. ‘No, thanks. But don’t let me stand in your way,’ he said as he craned his neck to look over Huber’s shoulder and re-focus on his own object of desire.
Blomberg now chipped in. ‘How many of these creatures have you fornicated with tonight, Doctor?’
Huber shrugged. ‘I lost count hours ago. But who cares? All I know is it could be fifty years, fifty long years, before I have any kind of woman again, so I might as well enjoy myself here while I still can.’ He raised the bottle of schnapps he was holding and poured some over the girl’s blouse. The drink soaked right in and exposed her breasts through the sodden material. Hungrily, Huber sucked upon the soaked blouse, his mouth enveloping each breast in turn.
Stahl seized the girl by the arm and looked her over as if he were examining an animal at a cattle market. ‘She is a pretty one, I grant you that, Huber,’ he said. ‘She could almost be passed off as a human. Still, I think it’s dangerous to consort with these animals. Bestiality holds no appeal for me.’