Stahl pulled himself off the dead body like an exhausted lover and wiped his bloody hands on the corpse. Once clean, he then swept back his dishevelled blonde hair and straightened his tunic, the only sign of his murderous exertions being the sweat that covered his brow. He had killed countless other people before: traitors; partisans; criminals, but all of those had been despatched with bullets or via the noose, none had been killed with his own hands. The sense of power that surged from him was overwhelming. This perverted sense of achievement drew Stahl’s eyes towards his injured hand. It was if the wound was drawing strength from his reaction to the murder.
He cautiously stepped away from the body and clambered down from the gantry. Almost immediately, he ran into Mesler.
The first thing that caught the Nazi’s eye were the prisoners who were gathered close behind the officer. After discovering Konrad and the rest of the motley-crew, Mesler had escorted them all back to the control room and as soon as the prisoners had entered the Nazi-dominated chamber, they had reverted to their compliant and obedient selves. The brief moment of freedom the prisoners had experienced in the airlock had long gone. Stahl gazed over Mesler’s shoulder and spotted the familiar faces amongst the prisoners and he unexpectedly experienced a small note of satisfaction when he saw Konrad, but more importantly, Elsa. Despite the lack of make-up and the ill-fitting uniform, in his eyes, at least, she was still desirable. Memories of his night with her filled his mind.
‘I thought you were dead, Stahl,’ Mesler said as he grabbed the SS man by the arm.
Stahl slowly turned his gaze to his colleague. ‘You’re the second person today to sound disappointed having found that I’ve survived.’
‘I meant no offence,’ Mesler spluttered.
‘It’s a good job none was taken,’ Stahl replied coldly. ‘What are they doing here?’
‘I was on my way back to report to the Admiral,’ Mesler said. ‘The module’s reactor is now back on-line. The crash triggered its safety systems to cut the power and use the batteries. We lost ten of the thirty battery cells in the crash, but that shouldn’t be an issue now that the reactor’s working again.’
‘Excellent.’
‘The other good news is that the module’s life-support systems, along with the carbon-dioxide scrubbers check out.’
Stahl pointed to the prisoners. ‘Where did you locate the waifs and strays here?’
‘They were in the airlock,’ Mesler replied. ‘They’re all what’s left of the prison population.’
‘No others?’
Mesler shook his head. ‘They’re all dead.’
‘Its good to see that these rats, at least, found their way off a sinking ship.’
Mesler then started to move on in the direction of the gantry. ‘You’ll have to excuse me, I have to pass the news of the ship to the Admiral.’
Now it was Stahl’s turn to restrain his comrade, but his grip wasn’t full of camaraderie. ‘You can’t. The Admiral’s dead.’
Mesler’s shoulders slumped when he heard the news. Stahl stepped closer, a grave look and tone upon him. ‘I’m afraid so. He must have died in the crash.’
Upon hearing this statement, a cold shiver shot through Mesler. For a moment his mind froze as he consumed Stahl’s words. ‘That was impossible!’ he thought. The Admiral was injured, but he was hardly on death’s door when he left him for the reactor. Stahl must have been mistaken. He had to see for himself. He motioned to climb up the gantry, but Stahl’s grip on his arm grew even stronger.
‘But the Admiral was…’
‘Was what?’ Stahl asked.
Mesler was about to blurt out what he knew about the Admiral, but something made him stop. He had cast his eyes down to Stahl’s restraining hands and spotted the small drops of blood that covered them. He looked back into Stahl’s eyes and knew what he feared was true – Stahl had killed the Admiral.
Mesler remained silent. There would be no accusations. Discretion would indeed be the better part of valour, especially if any accusation was aimed at an officer of the SS.
‘The Admiral’s dead, believe me,’ Stahl continued. ‘I’ve seen his body and it’s not a pretty sight.’
Mesler started to pull away. ‘I need to see him.’
But Stahl continued to bar his path. ‘It’s not a pretty sight, Mesler. The Admiral was impaled on a support-beam. Take my word and leave the Admiral to rest in peace,’ Stahl insisted. ‘We’ll inform the doctor and let him tend to our former leader. Then we can bury him with our other fallen heroes.’ Stahl pushed the officer away. His manner was gentle and fatherly, but the guiding hand was firm and determined. ‘We now have other priorities under my command,’ he then announced.
Mesler nodded.
‘First we will put the farm animals to work,’ Stahl said. ‘I don’t want idle hands making mischief.’
‘Yes, Stahl.’
The SS officer’s eyes flared with anger. The obvious reaction prompted Mesler to correct himself with a prompt click of his heels. ‘Jawohl, Herr Sturmbannführer!’
The prisoners were ushered away, except for Konrad.
‘No! Not you,’ Stahl pointed.
Konrad remained where he stood and waited as Stahl slowly approached.
‘I have another task for you, my slave. Nothing too taxing, you’ll be pleased to hear, but I still want it done to the best of your ability. Understand?’
Konrad nodded.
Stahl removed his battered SS jacket and handed it to the prisoner. ‘Clean it.’
He then disappeared amongst the wreckage.
Alone, Konrad flung the tunic across this shoulder. But as he did, a blood-soaked sleeve grazed his face. He then looked at the twisted gantry that Stahl was so reluctant for Mesler to climb. A rivulet of blood dripped steadily from the metal.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dust devils skipped and played across the gloomy landscape. The tiny vortexes seemed to dance together like lovers before they faded back into the constant winds before a light entered this dark world. The outer casing of the module cracked open and lowered into the banks of spilt soil that had piled up around the battered globe. A gust of wind fizzed across the glowing opening as if warning the pressure-suited explorers who emerged to stay inside. Stahl, now firmly in command and leading from the front, stood at the ramp’s summit and wiped his spherical visor clean of the fine dust that had quickly accumulated upon it. The dust stained his bulky gauntlet, the grit rooting deep into every crease and fold of the pressure-suit which was decorated with his name, rank and the usual Nazi decorations of swastika and SS runes. Another gust of wind cracked against his visor as he gingerly descended the angled ramp which had already started to become lost beneath a layer of dust. A small group of three Waffen-SS soldiers followed close behind the Sturmbannführer. Like Stahl, they too were safely protected from the noxious atmosphere inside their own pressure-suits, but the soldier’s garb bristled with firearms which clattered in time with each of their awkward steps. And last, and very least, at the rear like a pair of mangy dogs were Konrad and Ziegler.
Only a few hours before, Konrad had been safe inside the globe, working. Along with Ziegler and Klein, they were busy clearing the control room of the corpses of the crew. First, the wrecked equipment had to be removed. The twisted catwalks, ruined monitors and electrical equipment were picked up and placed in the corridors outside. Some were stained with blood or snagged with torn uniforms, but the wreckage was nothing compared to the corpses. Konrad had dragged a number of the body-bags into the airlock. He carried it to the far side of the chamber and dropped the rubber bag with a sickening slap. Here it joined twenty or so other bags, some of which contained intact bodies, while others only held body-parts or just lumps of flesh, and despite the bags being well sealed, there was still a malodorous smell of death which hung over the bodies like a grotesque brand of perfume.