Horst met her by the gates. “There’s a lot of chatter,” he said, as Gudrun flushed with embarrassment. She’d kissed him – and she would have gone further, if he’d let her. “Just remember to be careful what you say.”
“Of course,” Gudrun said, a little tartly. Part of her would have been relieved if she’d never seen Horst again, even though she was sure he wouldn’t tell anyone about the kiss. But she needed to ask him and the others why the leaflets had been distributed far more widely than she’d expected. “Can we sneak up to the meeting room?”
“Better to wait for a while,” Horst said, as they stepped through the gates. “The entire university is buzzing.”
He was right, Gudrun discovered. Students were talking in small groups about the leaflets, comparing notes about soldiers who’d gone to South Africa and dropped out of contact; fathers, brothers and friends who seemed to have vanished. Gudrun listened, careful not to say too much, as the chatter grew stronger; hundreds of students, it seemed, were realising for the first time that they’d been told lies by the state. And, the more they compared notes, the clearer the picture became.
They can’t arrest everyone, she told herself. She had no idea if that was actually true, but there were over two thousand students in the university itself, all with friends and family who would be upset if they were arrested. They can’t take us all away, can they?
She shuddered, remembering Grandpa Frank’s words. The Reich had slaughtered untold millions – perhaps billions – of human beings, men and women who weren’t so different from the Germans themselves. It was a crime so vast as to be almost beyond her comprehension, an atrocity so staggering that it would be easy to believe it had never happened. And yet, reading between the lines, it was clear that it had happened. Grandpa Frank might have told her what he’d seen, but… but she’d read the books and noted carefully what they didn’t say.
“My father wasn’t too pleased,” she muttered to Horst. “He was demanding to know when I’d get married and out of his house.”
Horst shrugged. “Fathers are like that,” he said. “Mine certainly told me I’d be expected to marry as soon as I decently could, no matter what I did with my life.”
Gudrun shook her head, tiredly, as they made their way to the classrooms. Konrad was unlikely to recover, but her father didn’t know that. Not yet. As long as he thought she was engaged to Konrad – or close to engaged – he wouldn’t insist that she looked for another suitable husband. But once he found out the truth, he would tell her to find someone or to allow him to suggest potential candidates. Her stomach turned at the thought of who her father would consider suitable. A boring man, she was sure; a man who’d want a housewife and nothing more. And her father would keep shoving candidates at her until she gave in…
She looked at Horst, thoughtfully. He was handsome enough, she supposed; strong, smart – he’d have to be to get into the university – and all-too-aware of what she was doing instead of studying. Marriage to him wouldn’t be too bad, but she’d have to go to the east once she finished her studies… unless he decided to stay in the west with her. She opened her mouth to ask him what he’d do, then dismissed the thought. It was unlikely in the extreme that they’d live long enough to get married and make a future together.
Horst gave her an odd look. “Are you all right?”
“It’s just… it’s just the excuse,” Gudrun lied. They’d called their periods the excuse in the BDM. Horst frowned, then blushed with embarrassment. Gudrun couldn’t help smiling, despite her own embarrassment. Konrad had affected a selective deafness whenever female issues were mentioned. “I’ll be better soon, I’m sure.”
“I’m sure of it,” Horst agreed. He gave her a bland smile. “Gudrun, I…”
He broke off as a rustle ran through the students behind them. Gudrun turned and saw a trio of green-clad Order Policemen making their way through the crowd, their mere presence parting the students as effectively as Moses had parted the Red Sea. Horst caught her arm and gently pulled her out of the way, slipping down a side corridor as the policemen walked past their position. Gudrun tensed as she realised one of them was her father. Had he come to look for her? Or had he been called to the university on other business?
“That’s my father,” she breathed. Panic started to bubble up within her mind. “Horst…”
“Remain calm,” Horst whispered. Students were scattering in all directions, unwilling to risk doing anything that might draw attention from the policemen. “Just…”
He looked around, then drew her into an alcove. “We need to see what they’re doing here,” he added, at her bemused look. “Or do you want to run and hide?”
Gudrun, stung, drew herself up to her full height. “If he’s here for me,” she said, “is there any point in hiding?”
“Probably not,” Horst said, after a moment. “But if he was here for you, why would he bring two of his friends?”
Herman had never set foot in the university before, not even when Gudrun had been accepted as a student. Parents weren’t meant to supervise their children’s education and, while the university had thrown out many traditions, it had made sure to keep that one. Indeed, Herman had only visited his children’s schools after the teachers had complained about their behaviour. Kurt had often been in trouble for fighting and Johan, it seemed, was going the same way.
Good for him, Herman thought, as he made his way through the corridors. He’d never been in the building before, but there were helpful signs everywhere. A fighter is better than a coward.
The university struck him as odd. It was nothing like a school; indeed, the mandatory portraits of Hitler and the Reich Cabinet were at a bare minimum, while the walls were covered with bright maps, abstract paintings that looked as though someone had splashed ink randomly on paper and photographs of spacecraft, space stations and the tiny base on the moon. Kurt had wanted to be an astronaut, Herman recalled; he’d been disappointed for weeks after he failed to get into the air force, the first step towards flying into space. Johan had been talking about being the first man on Mars too…
And this place is where they design the next generation of spacecraft, he thought, as he paused in front of a drawing of a massive space rocket. It looked too big to be realistic, unless there was something special about the rocket drive; the tiny image of a teenage boy, a sea captain and a bald professor at the bottom caught his eye for a long moment. Maybe Johan will fly that rocket into space.
He pushed the thought aside as they walked on until they reached the computer labs and stepped through the door. Inside, there were fifty computers lined up in neat rows, dozens of students sitting in front of them tapping on keyboards. Their eyes went wide as they saw the policemen, guilt written all over their faces. Herman smirked inwardly – everyone, it seemed, remembered guilty secrets when they saw a policeman – and raked the room with his eyes, searching for Herr Doctor Professor Claus Murken. The Professor was standing behind a female student – Herman was irrationally grateful it wasn’t Gudrun – one hand resting on her shoulder as he explained something to her.
“Herr Doctor Professor Claus Murken,” he said, as the policemen stepped forward. Murken didn’t look dangerous, but they had strict orders to bring him in alive and relatively unharmed. “You are under arrest.”