One person tried to ignore the bedlam. Blomberg.
The scanner hung limply from his wrist, perfectly reflecting its owner’s state of mind; downcast and lifeless. His peaked cap was pulled down over his face as low as it could to help hide his red tear-smeared eyes. The news of his appointment as the Odin’s new medical officer had hit the doctor hard. Admiral Bauer had officially broken the news to him by handing him a brief radio message from the Space Ministry, but Blomberg had been secretly expecting the news as soon as the blood had stopped trickling from Huber’s neck in the brothel. Somehow, he hoped that he would avoid the appointment. He didn’t know what shape this intervention would take. He had prayed to the Überführer throughout the night hoping that the Almighty would act. In the end, however, his prayers remained unanswered, and even Blomberg could see that his appointment was the only sensible and viable solution. It would have taken weeks, even months, for a suitable candidate to be despatched to Neu Magdeburg, and considering that the Odin blasted off within a few hours, Blomberg accepted the Überführer’s lack of action and accepted his fate. Bauer had tried to soften the blow with a speech laced with platitudes such as “I understand” and “We all have to make sacrifices”, but Blomberg’s reaction was to shut out the voice and close the doors to the now harsh and cruel world that surrounded him.
But for Blomberg, the most heart-rending and upsetting aspect of his overnight promotion was telling his wife. He had stared at the holographic transmitter for what seemed like hours as he tried to summon up the courage to contact her, his hand lingering over the green transmit button. Eventually he pressed it and immediately regretted doing so. His wife’s reaction was as tearful, emotional and hysterical as he had feared. Between the tears, Blomberg had tried to splutter the same banal clichés as his commander, but no conviction or feeling drove his words. She in turn had screamed for him not to go. She pleaded for him to do the impossible and disobey his orders. As his wife cursed the Reich and even the Führer himself, she held their young daughter up before the transmitter, the image of his family twisting the knife even deeper in Blomberg’s heart. After his beloved wife faded away, Blomberg’s tears turned to rage. It was so unfair. How could the Reich do this to him? He had been loyal, he had served the Führer obediently and without question, never moaning about the path his life had led. He had never complained when he was originally posted to this shit-hole colony, but he never thought his loyalty would be so exploited. So at that moment, Blomberg decided to channel his new-found anger and sense of betrayal into an act of disloyalty. The ultimate act of disloyalty – he would take his own life.
In his cabin, barely minutes after his farewell to his wife, Blomberg unpacked the items he had collected from the colony’s infirmary and had hidden within his tunic. A syringe, a collection of sterile needles and a small vial of cyanide which was used in the infirmary to dispose of prisoners when beds were urgently needed. Taking a deep breath, he had lay down on his cot and filled the syringe, drawing the plunger towards himself. As he did, Blomberg thought how innocuous the drug looked inside the syringe. It looked so clear, so transparent, and so harmless. Tying a tourniquet around his arm, Blomberg watched as his veins distended before him. The needle sank easily into his arm, but then he hesitated. Even now, a sense of loyalty to the Party and his superiors prevented him from pumping the poison into his body. Tears began to flow again, but this time they were tears of frustration. They rolled down his face as he yanked the needle from his arm and flung it across the cabin.
Amidst the chaos, Konrad was thrown to the floor. A Kapo had tipped his bunk over and him with it. The filthy mattress and the prisoners who slept above Konrad landed painfully upon him. He squirmed from the bodies and bedding and attempted to clamber to his feet, but a disembodied hand shoved him back onto the cold dirty surface which quivered under the feet of the panicking inmates. Eventually, Konrad made it up and rested against his wrecked bed, where to his horror, he noticed that his etching of the spire was now exposed for all to see. But much to his relief, its strange shape remained unnoticed amidst the pandemonium.
Calming his frayed nerves with a deep breath, Konrad steadied himself and watched as two naked prisoners were dragged from under the covers of a bunk opposite by an indignant guard. For a split second, he thought the lovers were Gigolo and Erik. Luckily for them they had decided to forgo any nocturnal activities the previous night and retire to their own bunks. The punishment meted out on the unfortunate couple made Gigolo and Erik’s decision even more sensible and prudent. The guard and another outraged comrade pulled the prisoners toward the stove that stood in the middle of the room and seared their genitals on the hot griddle. The screams, like Konrad’s drawing, were fortunately lost in the mayhem.
Order eventually returned to the dormitory as the guards and Kapos lined up the prisoners at the end of their overturned bunks. The silence that descended was tinged with a palpable sense of tension. This tension was fuelled by the fear and apprehension that oozed from the prisoners like sweat. The men correctly guessed that something important was in the offing if the camp’s god-like officers had decided to venture down into this dungeon.
The Commandant stepped forward, pacing along the cluttered aisles like a strutting show-dog. All that was missing was his wagging tail.
‘Today, a new era begins here at Neu Magdeburg. Later today, the Odin, the vessel that you and your comrades have laboured upon for so long, will be launched on its historic mission, and some of you, a privileged few, will have the honour of accompanying this mission. Strong backs and stout hearts will still be needed by our Nazi pioneers,’ the Commandant announced. ‘However, those of you not granted this accolade will still serve the Reich in some capacity. You will be evacuated from this camp to places where you will be employed. The Reich still needs you. You still owe the Reich, remember that.’
Konrad eyed Gigolo briefly. They both knew that the Commandant was lying. They had seen the huge cache of Zyklon-B poison in the hold of the shuttle and both knew that it wasn’t going to be used to fumigate the prisoner’s uniforms.
The Commandant turned and paced back down the dormitory. ‘The same can be said about those selected. Even though you will be far from here, you will still remain subject to the rules that you have had to follow here. You will obey every order given to you. You will perform every task given to you, and you will always be prisoners of the Reich until you die. But we will inform your families of where you are heading. Therefore your families can lift some of the shame that you have placed upon them. Once again they can be proud of you as you help the Reich in our mission.’ He turned to the guards. ‘Let’s begin shall we.’
The senior guard now spoke. ‘When the order is given, you will strip and leave your uniforms at your feet. I want it done quickly and quietly. If any of you cock-suckers make a sound, the nearest man to me, be he innocent or guilty, will get some of this!’ He briefly waved his baton in the air to enforce the threat like a schoolmaster waving a bell. ‘When you are ordered forward you’ll remain silent and you’ll keep your fucking eyes to the floor and obey all the instructions given to you. Understood?’