“A Time for Love”
by Joe Haley
Last update: 30-Nov-02
Author's picture file: Illustrations of the Heroines
Paula had never particularly liked Ursula. Even among a race where beautiful women were common, Ursula was a little too tall, a little too blonde, and a little too proud to ever fit in with her fellow Protectors. The fact that Paula herself was tall, blonde, and beautiful made no difference. The Patriarch’s solution to this problem was to pair them as partners on a routine mission to Earth.
But something went wrong. The wormhole was unstable right from the start, barely within the tolerance needed for the trip. It had been Ursula’s decision to jump and Paula had followed reluctantly. Now she regretted it. Inside the tortured vortex of space-time, unpredictable g-forces buffeted her from every side. She curled up even tighter, clutching the small knapsack that held her uniform. It was impossible to stay on course. She could see Ursula was having similar problems. The cold of interstellar space sucked the energy from her ample breasts. She wondered why she had ever wanted to become a Protector.
Up ahead, Ursula, with a slight shift of her weight, tried to correct her trajectory. They were coming out, but something was definitely wrong. They exploded into real space with a sonic boom that meant they were inside an atmosphere – a fatal mistake for any starship. The cold turned to heat as their speed made the air glow red around them. Paula stretched out and rolled onto her stomach. She body surfed though the clouds, shedding heat and velocity as she went. But the effort was taxing, and she felt still more energy drain from her exhausted breasts. Unlike a mere starship, her skin, and the supple muscles underneath, were impervious to heat or cold. But the fatigue of the trip penetrated both.
The women descended on a stream of neutrinos so dense it would be a hundred years before Earth’s scientists could match it. They landed softly in a meadow on the outskirts of a small village. It was late afternoon on an autumn day, and as best they could tell, no one had seen their descent. A cool breeze stirred the leaves in some nearby trees. The women took cover there, slipped on their uniforms, and lay down to rest.
It was Ursula who stirred first. “Come on, get up,” she said curtly. Paula rose slowly. The tone in Ursula’s voice reminded her of why she resented her new partner. To make matters worse, Ursula’s breasts were larger too, so she always had more energy.
Across the sun dappled field, Paula could see a two lane road in the distance. Along the road came a car. It was large and black, with two small red flags flying above either headlight. “That’s a real antique,” said Paula.
“Yeah,” said Ursula. She reached down and pulled a small instrument from her boot. She read the dial with a look of concern. “This is Earth,” she said, “but the time is wrong. Twelve degrees east, forty-eight north, 1942 AD. It’s obviously autumn, but I can’t measure any closer than that.”
“I’ve studied this sort of thing,” said Paula, trying to remain calm. “But everything I read said you can’t travel back in time to a date before the wormhole was created.”
“So much for that theory,” said Ursula.
“Well what have you read?” snapped Paula. “If you’re so smart, how did this happen?”
“Hey, relax. I just meant technology’s not perfect. Sometimes things go wrong. Or maybe the wormhole’s older than we thought. ”
When Paula didn’t respond, Ursula said “Let’s wait till dark. Maybe we can find some clothes in that village so we won’t be so conspicuous.”
The women lay down to rest, but Paula couldn’t sleep. This was serious, she thought. The ballistics the Velorians used to transit a wormhole were plotted for space travel only. And while time travel was not unheard of, it was a technology the Velorians had never mastered. The chances of their superiors recreating the anomaly that had brought them here seemed remote.
She sat there brooding over the situation. Velorian women are not bred to be geniuses. A high IQ coincides with a distaste for violence, and no Protector can afford that. But neither Paula nor Ursula were stupid. And, as a genetically engineered race, they had enhancements that made a genius IQ unnecessary.
As a Velorian, Paula’s metabolism was based on cold fusion. The enormous amount of energy created in the fusion process was stored in her breasts in the form of orgone energy. Every cell of Paula’s body contained a special type of mitochondria designed to use this energy in a sudden surge of immense power. When in peak form, a Velorian had the strength of thousands. Paula’s brain was special too. Buried beneath her skull, advanced nanochips held all the knowledge of a dozen civilizations.
It was these chips she accessed now. First, she uploaded a map into her cerebral cortex and looked up the coordinates Ursula had given her. They were in southern Germany, she discovered. She searched a language database and uploaded mid twentieth century German. She then sent a command down her spinal cord to train her vocal cords in the guttural sounds of her new tongue. On a hunch, she chose a north German accent. She fine tuned it to that of a middle class college student. Next, she uploaded an encyclopedia article and reviewed the history of this age.
There’s a war going on, she though, and Germany will lose.
The programming tired her, although the only evidence of strain was a slight furrow on her perfect brow. When finished, she rolled over and drifted into a fitful sleep.
When she awoke it was dark and she felt much better. Her breasts were warm and full of renewed energy. The feeling was almost sexual. It made her feel adventurous, ready for anything.
Ursula was awake too. “I think I see a clothesline over there,” she said pointing towards a farm house.
“This place is at war,” said Paula. “Did you know that?”
“Of course,” said Ursula.
“Ursula, let’s get out of here. We can fly away to an island or something and wait to be rescued.”
“Paradise Island?” said Ursula with a laugh. “You read too much, Paula. Besides, this place looks interesting. This is the land of our ancestors, you know. We need to stay close by if we hope to be rescued. No more than a fifty mile radius. The farther we stray from where we came down, the harder it will be for Velor to track us. That’s assuming they can track us…”
After a pause Paula said, “I just meant we could go somewhere where we won’t interfere with their history.”
“The Prime Directive?” said Ursula. “I don’t think that applies in this situation. Just being here is an interference.”
This led to another awkward silence. To change the subject, Paula mentioned the language program she’d uploaded. Ursula concurred and soon the two Velorians were practicing their roles as German college girls on holiday from school.
It was a moonless night. They had no trouble stealing some clothes left on the line at the farmhouse. They weren’t the right kind of clothes, however. For that they needed money.
The girls lifted up into the night sky and explored the local area. Despite the war, there were no blackouts this far south. In a larger town nearby, they spotted a bank. They landed in a cobblestone alley near the back door of the bank. It was a substantial door, made of solid oak with an iron lock and hinges. Ursula studied the door briefly. She tensed her muscles, and with a swift kick the ancient oak splintered and the door flew open. There was no alarm. They walked in and found the vault. The walls were poured concrete.
“Your turn,” said Ursula. Paula studied the wall with her tachyon vision. One foot thick and no rebars. With a ballerina’s grace, she made a running leap and hit the wall with the force of a wrecking ball. The concrete exploded in a shower of rubble and dust, leaving a large hole in the structure. The girls crawled through and began helping themselves to various denominations of Reich marks. Paula didn’t like stealing, but then again, the money would be worthless in a few years anyway.
Once outside, Paula noticed a scrap of newspaper in a trash can. “Friday, October 2, 1942,” she read aloud.
“Hmm,” said Ursula. “October in southern Germany. We should go to Munich. We’ll be less conspicuous there.” They heard a shout from the other end of the alley and lights began to come on in upstairs windows. The girls lifted off and watched in amusement as a puzzled policeman inspected the scene below them.
They landed in a wooded park on the outskirts of Munich. A red hotel sign glowed at the end of a nearby street. They walked a hundred yards down the street and entered the shabby lobby. At one end, a middle aged clerk dozed behind the desk. He awoke immediately at the sight of the two women.
Their looks were striking. They appeared to be in their early twenties. The taller of the two was at least 5’10” by the English system of measurement. Her companion was 5’8”. Both had blond hair, although the taller girl’s looked platinum. Their chests were large, but otherwise their figures were in perfect proportion to their height. Their eyes were a hypnotic shade of blue. It was like looking at a goddess, or a movie star he thought.
But movie stars dressed better. The taller woman was wearing a pair of poorly fitting pants. The overlarge waist was tied with a rope and the legs ended too high above a pair of boots that were completely at odds with the rest of her outfit. Tucked into the pants was a man’s plaid shirt, the kind a farmer might wear at harvest. Her companion had on a poorly fitting dress. The kind used by milk maids. She too wore the strange boots. They both carried a small knapsack. The clerk was about to speak when he realized neither woman was wearing a brassiere.
Ursula broke the silence. “Herr Innkeeper, we need a room.” she said in flawless German.
“Ja, Fraulein,” said the man. He busied himself with the necessary paperwork while stealing glances at the women's jiggling breasts. The Velorians grinned at each other and pretended not to notice.
“Sisters?” inquired the clerk as he handed Ursula the key.
“No,” said Paula.
They climbed the stairs to the second floor and walked down a dim corridor to their room. There was only a single double bed, but at least the room had a private bath. The hotel sign outside their window filled the room with harsh reddish light. Paula drew the drapes in disgust. “We’ve got to find someplace better tomorrow,” she said.
“That will be no problem,” said Ursula
The women took turns in the primitive bathroom, and then retired to bed for their first decent sleep since leaving Velor. But it was not to be. From the other side of the thin wall came the unmistakable sounds of human lovemaking. Both girls burst into giggles. They tried to ignore the noise at first, but the grunts and groans continued with increasing tempo.
This is not some whore and her client, thought Paula. This is taking much too long. The lovemaking reminded her of her own sexual needs. She felt a twinge of loneliness and imagined how nice it would be to have a man in bed with her instead of conceited Ursula.
The wall suddenly shook as the woman in the next room screamed in consummate pleasure, the music of her passion sending a wild thrill through Paula’s body. Her breasts began to burn, nipples stiffening, as a wave of wet heat washed over her. She squirmed deliciously as the unmistakable scent of honey and wildflowers wafted out from beneath the shared blanket.
“What are you doing,” Ursula asked rhetorically.
“I can’t help it,” said Paula. She got up and stumbled to the bathroom, her body burning with desire. She collapsed on the toilet and held herself, one hand slipping low to pacify the fire that burned inside her.
Alone in the double bed, Ursula bit her lip and took advantage of the privacy to relieve the same tension.
The next morning, the girls awoke early. After the adventures of the previous day, they were hungry. Unfortunately, the hotel did not offer room service, and even if it did, there was no phone in the room to place an order. A daylight walk to a restaurant was out of the question given their limited wardrobe.
A short time later Ursula descended the stairs to the front lobby. She was wearing the milk maid dress from the previous night, but with the help of some scissors and safety pins from her knapsack, the look was completely different.
Ursula leaned over the desk, exposing just enough cleavage. Before her sat the clerk from the night before. “We need some breakfast,” she said matter of factly.
“I’m sorry Fraulein. We don’t serve breakfast here, but I can recommend a place up the street.” He was grinning like an idiot, his gaze torn between her perfect face and her inviting breasts.
Ursula looked the little man in the eye. He found it impossible to look away. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Adolph,” he said sheepishly.
“Well, Adolph, perhaps you could find us some breakfast.” She released her gaze momentarily so he could see her pull a large bank note from between her breasts.
“But I can’t leave my post,” answered the German.
“Oh come now, is that really true?”
My God her eyes are blue, thought Adolph. And the manager wouldn’t be in for another hour. “All right. I’ll go.”
“Good boy.” said Ursula. “Bring the food up personally when you get back. And make sure the coffee’s still hot.”
When Adolph returned, the girls ate a leisurely breakfast at a makeshift table in their room. With the hotel sign turned off for the day, the view of the street below was not unattractive. It was a working class neighborhood, but everything seemed neat and orderly.
The food was delicious. Fresh pastries, ham, sausage, cheese, and delicious coffee. Ursula felt proud to be a German. The Galens had certainly chosen well in selecting this race as her ancestors, she thought. Later, when they checked out, Ursula gave Adolph a kiss on the cheek. He blushed furiously. “Perhaps the Fuehrer is right about the master race,” he thought.
The girls took a taxi to a store on Ludwigstrasse that Adolph had recommended. Their agreed upon plan was to select clothes that would help them blend in to their new surroundings. But Velorians have an exhibitionist streak, and the plan didn’t survive long.
In every store they visited, the staff was efficient and very flattering. Under garments, dresses, casual wear, shoes, makeup. They bought it all and ordered it delivered to a first class hotel in the better part of town. The farmer’s clothes were in the trash before they left the first store. By lunchtime both women were dressed to the nines.
They were walking down the street, trying to decide on a restaurant. Paula felt a twinge of guilt over their spending spree. Perhaps they should have kept more of the money for future needs.
“Relax,” said Ursula. “We need to fit in, and in this neighborhood, fitting in requires nice clothes.”
Saturday morning was the most popular time for shopping in Munich, and the sidewalks were crowded with pedestrians. The girls were waiting at a crosswalk for the light to change. Next to them, a nanny with a stroller and too many children was trying to get control of her brood. Paula idly observed a little blond girl who refused to cooperate. Instead, she insisted on playing with a ball.
I wonder what childbirth is like, she thought. Surely a Velorian woman could do it. But then again, artificial wombs are better for genetic engineering. She was snapped out of her daydream by a car speeding towards them. It was another of those black limousines and she could see though the windshield that the chauffer had his head cocked to the right as if taking instructions from a passenger in back.
With sickening predictability, the little girl’s ball bounced into street and the girl went after it.
“Katie!” screamed the nanny.
Paula was almost eight feet away, but she reacted immediately. She lunged for the child in a blur of speed and snatched her out of harm’s way. The chauffer yanked the wheel hard to the left to avoid hitting the child, then over-corrected and slammed the car into a lamp post a short distance away.
The crowd gasped in astonishment. Their eyes told them they had seen a human blur rescue a child. Their minds told them she couldn’t have moved that fast.
Ursula gave Paula a look. “Inconspicuous,” she said with contempt.
The back door of the limousine opened and three men got out. Two of the men wore the field gray uniform of the Wehrmacht. The third wore the blue-gray of the Luftwaffe. The oldest of the three wore the rank of a colonel and was obviously in charge. He appeared to be in his early fifties, with thick silver-gray hair and pale blue eyes. The scowl on his face faded as he ascertained the situation. His eyes locked on the two stylish women.
“I trust no one was hurt?” he said, walking over.
“Everything’s fine,” said Ursula. She deliberately avoided the man’s eyes. In the background the nanny comforted little Katie, whose wails made Ursula’s answer ring hollow.
“Which one of you saved the child?” asked the colonel. “I must admit everything happened so fast I couldn’t tell.”
“She did,” said a spectator pointing at Paula. If a Velorian could blush, Paula would have.
“My congratulations, Fraulein,” said the colonel. His eyes locked on Paula’s and he couldn’t turn away. Paula instantly glanced down.
“The Fraulein moved at the speed of light, Herr Colonel,” said the talkative spectator. The crowd murmured in agreement.
This was looking bad, thought Ursula. She noticed a man with a bulky camera coming down the street. A reporter, she grimaced.
Ursula looked the colonel in the eye. “Perhaps you could give us a ride, Herr Colonel. This crowd is starting to bother us.”
“But of course,” he said, as if in a trance.
Fortunately, the damage to the car was limited to some dents and a broken headlight. The two junior officers sat in front with the chauffer, while the colonel squeezed in back with the Velorians. His name was Hans Mueller. He held an administrative post in Munich. The pilot was his son Karl, at home on leave while recovering from a crash. The third man was the colonel’s aide, Franz.
Paula observed the two men in the front seat. They were turned awkwardly in their seats, listening to the small talk. They both seemed to be in their mid twenties. The one called Franz was absolutely gorgeous. He was at least 6’ 4” with dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and a handsome face. He looked vaguely familiar, like a model in a magazine or something. The Luftwaffe pilot was harder to judge. He had the kind of average height and slender build that fit well in a cockpit. He was handsome, but not beautiful like Franz. He had soulful brown eyes and dark hair in need of a trim. He struck her as more of a poet than a fighter pilot. He seemed like a nice man - for a Nazi.
When the colonel learned the girls had not eaten, he ordered the driver to stop for lunch. The restaurant he selected was crowded and looked expensive. The colonel had a few words with the Madre de, gesturing towards the girls. They were seated immediately.
Their table was by a picture window. The scene overlooked yet another park. A green swath of lawn stretched down to a small lake surrounded by trees. The ornate menu had surprisingly few choices, thought Paula. But then again there was a war on. At the colonel’s suggestion the girls ordered cordon bleu. Ursula also suggested champagne to toast Paula’s heroics. The colonel heartily agreed. After they had placed their orders, the colonel asked, “So are you two sisters?”
“Yes”, “No” the girls spoke at once.
“We’re actually cousins,” said Ursula, “but we’re as close as sisters.”
Paula kept a poker face.
“And where are you from?” inquired the colonel.
“Düsseldorf,” said Ursula.
At least she got that part of their story right, thought Paula.
“And what brings you to Munich?” This time the colonel looked right at Paula.
She wasn’t sure if the question for her was a test, or if he was just being polite. She had the answer down pat though.
“We’re on holiday from university to attend Oktoberfest.”
“Well you know Oktoberfest is almost over.”
The girls looked surprised.
“Surely you know the festival always starts in September?” said the colonel.
“Yes we know that,” said Ursula.
“You Northerners,” laughed the colonel. “Nevertheless, you got here in time. This is the last weekend. You must be my guests. Besides, I know the chairman of the organizing committee.”
“We’d be delighted” said Ursula.
The food and drinks arrived. The food was wonderful. The chicken tender, the ham within perfectly seasoned, and the breading light and crisp. Through judicious use of flattery, the Velorians were able to keep the rest of the conversation focused on the colonel.
“I fought in the first war,” he said, “and I prayed we could avoid the second. But what can you do when the allies take land that has been German for a thousand years and give it to Poland?” Paula ignored his selective use of facts and asked about the interwar years.
“I’m an industrialist,” said the colonel. “My commission in the army is a formality. My family has several factories in Munich. Business has been quite good lately. Mostly equipment for the army. Thank God for Hitler. Before he came along there were communists everywhere. They were corrupting my workers.”
The colonel took a long drink of campaign. “I believe in treating the workers fairly,” he said, “In fact, I’m a socialist. But it has to be National Socialism. That is the only kind that will work in Germany.”
“Heil Hitler,” muttered Paula behind her smile.
The subject shifted to the accident that morning. Paula admitted to being an athlete at the university. Ursula added that she enjoyed sports too. “You know, you girls should consider joining Germany’s Olympic team. I’m on a committee to bring the games to Munich in 1944.”
“We’ll have to give that a lot of thought,” said Ursula. “It requires quite a commitment.”
“Ja, but you’re natural athletes. I can tell these things, you know. I was an athlete once.”
By the third glass of champagne, everyone was in a jovial mood. They all agreed that Paula’s heroics that morning were merely the result of dedicated training and her pure Aryan genes.
After they finished their meal, Paula noticed a group of diners at another table smoking cigars and cigarettes. “That’s a disgusting custom.” she said softly.
Karl overheard her though, and said “It’s a habit I’ve never acquired.” Paula gave him a smile of approval.
The colonel said “Well, I will refrain in your presence, Fraulein,” and began to put a pack of cigarettes back in his coat pocket.
Ursula said, “Oh no, Herr Colonel. In fact, I’ll join you.”
The colonel pulled two cigarettes from the pack and handed one to Ursula. He extended a silver lighter. Ursula steadied his hand with her own, maintaining contact a moment longer than necessary. She took a deep drag.
At this point Franz chimed in: “The Fuehrer does not approve of smoking.”
The colonel glared at him.
Ursula exhaled slowly. “Is that so?” she said.
After leaving the restaurant, the car stopped by the hotel where the girls had planned on spending the night. The chauffer filled the trunk with boxes and bags from the morning’s shopping expedition. They then headed out to the countryside to freshen up at the colonel’s estate.
They passed several quaint little villages with red shingle roofs and gingerbread trim. Once past the last village, the limousine turned down a long gravel drive lined with elm trees. At the end of the drive stood the manor. The architecture was baroque, with numerous flourishes and curves accenting the stone walls. The colonel proclaimed proudly that the house had been in his family for six generations.
The chauffer helped the women out of the car and led them to the front door. They entered a large high foyer. Large oil paintings adorned the walls. A spiral staircase swept up to the second floor. The ceiling was a shallow dome with a hand painted mural depicting a scene from Greek mythology.
“I told you I’d find us a good place to stay,” Ursula whispered to Paula.
The chauffer and Franz carried the girl’s bags up to their respective bedrooms. In the doorway leading to a two story dining room stood a middle aged woman. Beside her, and slightly to the rear, was a servant.
“Frauleins,” said the colonel, “May I present my wife, Frau Gertrude Mueller.” The girls shook hands with Frau Mueller while bowing ever so slightly.
“I’m pleased to meet you ladies,” she said.
Frau Mueller appeared to be in her late forties, as best Paula could judge. She had a matronly figure and brown hair like her son. And while she was most gracious to the girls, Paula sensed about her the unease of a mother in a country at war.
Turning to the servant, Hans said “This is Fritz, our butler.” He’s in charge of the household staff. If you need anything at all, just let him know. Now, I suggest we all get some rest. Shall we meet in the drawing room at say, six o’clock?”
The girls were shown to their rooms upstairs. Ursula was given the room of the Mueller’s older son, an army major serving in Russia. Paula was placed in a guest room down the hall. The girls discovered the two bedrooms were connected by a small sewing room in between. After unpacking their clothes and taking a short nap, Ursula came over to see Paula.
They sat by the palladium window, with a view of the Alps in the distant background. The room was tastefully furnished in pale blue. Across from the window was a large stone fireplace. Both women felt rested and full, their anxieties about rescue temporarily forgotten. The warmth in their breasts put them in an adventurous mood, and reminded them of other needs.
Velorians in general have a very high metabolism. This is especially true of Protectors, who are used to action, not a life of ease. When not fighting, orgasm is the preferred means of discharging excess energy, and their sexual encounters carry far less emotional baggage than a Terran. Therefore, a Protector is almost always interested in sex. In addition, for a few days each month, hormonal changes make the sex drive even stronger. Both women were entering that state now, with heady, randy impulses flooding through their brains.
“I want Franz,” said Ursula.
Paula knew exactly what she meant. “Okay, I get Karl,” she answered.
“Have you ever had sex with a human, Paula?”
“Of course I have,” she replied. God, how she hated Paula’s condescending tone.
“Well, remember to be gentle with him. He looks rather fragile to me.”
“Well, Franz looks rather stupid,” she retorted.
“He’ll serve,” said Ursula.
“He doesn’t impress me. He may have a nice build, but he got those muscles in a gymnasium. He’s basically soft. I doubt he’s worked a day in his life.”
“Just like the men on Velor,” laughed Ursula. “And even if he is soft, I’m sure I can get him hard.” To ensure she got the last word, she left the room to change for the evening.
Paula selected a nice dress in traditional Barvarian style. It was attractive but not too formal. The bodice was somewhat tight, but like all Velorians, she liked the attention she got from men. From her knapsack she pulled out a simple necklace of pure gold. She looked in the mirror. The necklace was a little out of place with her dress, but not too much, she decided.
Gold has an intoxicating effect on Velorians. When used judiciously, it reduces their strength and enables them to interact more easily with weaker races. It also helps put them a relaxed, mellow mood.
Paula thought about Karl, remembering his soulful eyes and the smiles they exchanged in the restaurant. With her hormones spiking and the gold around her neck, she no longer cared if he was a Nazi. She left the room with a sense of anticipation. With a little luck, there would be no need to please herself tonight.
Paula joined the others in the drawing room. Ursula was wearing a peasant dress in a similar style to her own. She too wore a gold necklace. The men rose from their chairs. They had on more casual uniforms tonight. A uniform more suitable for relaxing, drinking, and perhaps dancing, thought Paula.
“My you two look charming,” the colonel said. Franz and Karl echoed the compliment. “What a remarkable necklace you both have. Identical, no? Is it a family heirloom?”
“No, said Ursula. “We just have similar tastes.”
“And good taste at that,” added Frau Mueller in a soft voice. “I have an extensive collection, myself.” She paused. “But I seldom feel like wearing jewelry what with the war and all.”
“Well, shall we go?” said the colonel. “Unfortunately, we will need two cars this evening.”
“I’ll ride with Franz,” said Ursula. She had already considered the transportation issue. Franz looked pleasantly surprised.
“All right,” said the colonel. “Let’s go.”
The Mueller family and Paula got into the limousine. The chauffer was already at the wheel. Karl sat in front and Paula sat in back with the colonel and his wife. Franz drove a separate car. Ursula joined him in the front seat.
On the way to the festival, the colonel filled Paula in on the history of Oktoberfest. “The festival dates from 1812,” he said. “On October twelfth that year, Crown Prince Ludwig married Princess Therese of Saxony-Hildburghausen. To celebrate the wedding, he invited the citizens of Munich to attend festivities held on the fields in front of the city gates. The fields were then renamed Theresienwiese in honor of the Princess. My great, great grandfather was present, you know. Everyone had such a good time that the festival became an annual event.”
When they arrived at the festival, they parked the car in a large lot. Franz and Ursula pulled up beside them. The main part of the festival consisted of fourteen large beer tents arranged in two rows. The festival had long since outgrown its original location. Instead, the tents were set up along either side of Wirtsbudenstrasse. A large carrousel had been set up next to the tents. Close by were several hotels for out of town visitors.
The colonel knew the tents and the breweries they represented by heart. He suggested they start with the Weisse Brauhaus tent. They sat down at a large table with a white tablecloth. Paula sat next to Karl. Ursula was opposite Franz. The colonel recommended weinersnitchel accompanied by a local lager, and everyone agreed.
The tent was about two thirds full. A polka band played in the background. While the atmosphere seemed festive enough, Paula sensed the mood was due more to alcohol than genuine mirth. Most of the men in the tent were middle aged or older, accompanied by their stout housewives. What few young men were there were all in uniform. Numerous single women hovered around the soldiers, each seeking some company and attention. The women noticed Franz immediately. They gave the Velorians an envious look.
The food arrived. Just like their earlier lunch, it was delicious. The colonel noticed a man in the corner and motioned for him to come over. “Frauleins,” may I preset Herr Johan Hellmann, the President of the Organizing Committee. Join us for a drink, Johan.” The man sat down and Hans asked how the festival was going.
“Well, not as good as previous years,” said Johan. “The war, you know.” The talk turned to the fighting at Stalingrad. The Velorians learned that the Mueller’s oldest son was present at the front.
“The Russians are on their last legs,” declared the colonel. “They don’t have enough food or oil to survive the winter. I expect resistance will collapse completely in the next few months. The war should be over by spring.”
The phrase “Springtime for Hitler” popped uninvited into Paula’s head. She giggled.
“You think the war is funny, Fraulein?” asked the colonel.
“Oh, no sir,” she recovered. “I laugh out of happiness. It is wonderful to think the war will end next spring.”
The colonel’s smile meant her apology was accepted. Frau Mueller was more reserved. The colonel ordered another round of beer and started another monologue, this time about the British.
At the other end of the table, Ursula was bored. She carefully removed one of her shoes. Across from her, Franz was listening intently to the colonel’s speech. She slowly raised her leg under the tablecloth and stroked the captain’s pants leg with her stocking foot. He looked at her in surprise. She held his gaze and smiled. She moved her foot up to his crotch and began to thrust gently. Franz was hypnotized. He couldn’t look away and he couldn’t move. He pleaded to Ursula with his eyes. After a while Ursula relented and broke her gaze. Franz immediately excused himself and left for the lavatory.
Karl noticed his departure. “Drink one, piss two,” he called out.
His father was momentarily shocked by the off color humor. But the girls laughed uproariously so he joined in.
When Franz returned to the table, Ursula motioned him over and whispered something in his ear. “If you will excuse us,” said Franz, “Fraulein Ursula wants me to show her around.”
“Go ahead,” said Hans. “Have fun.”
“Dance with me Hans,” said Frau Gertrude.
“Paula?” said Karl. The two couples got up and walked to the dance floor. Paula found the polka to be a silly dance. It made her laugh though.
Later the two couples strolled over to a nearby hotel. A small orchestra was playing a waltz. Paula much preferred it to the polka. She liked being held in Karl’s arms and swirling around the room. The remainder of the evening passed in a marvelous blur of champagne and wine and waltzing. Towards ten o’clock though, Paula could see that Karl was starting to get a little tipsy. She wanted him sober, so she suggested they get some air.
They walked out onto the balcony of the hotel ballroom. The evening air remained mild. The sounds of the various bands drifted up from the beer tents below.
“Tell me about your wounds, Karl,” she said softly.
“I was burned,” he said. “My right arm and part of my side.”
She could tell he was tense, and didn’t want to talk about it.
“You must have experienced a lot of pain.” He didn’t reply.
She reached out and ran her hand down the sleeve of his shirt. “The muscles seem fine,” she said. He stood there silent, awkward as a school boy. “Would you show me your arm, Karl?” She looked him in the eye, but it was not a command look. She wanted this to be voluntary. The poor man began to tremble. There were tears in his eyes. Paula reached for him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against him hard. She kissed him, slowly sliding her wet tongue deep into his mouth.
Karl felt a warm glow begin to spread through him. It seemed to start in his mouth or head and slowly flow downward from there. When the warmth reached his groin, he moaned softly and shifted his weight, seeking some room between their bodies for his growing erection.
She stepped back. “Well?”
“I’ll show you everything,” he said. They returned to their table in the ballroom and Karl had a word with his father. Shortly thereafter the colonel suggested they leave. The young people insisted on sitting in the front seat with the chauffer on the way home. Paula rested her head on Karl's shoulder.
When they arrived back at the manor, Karl walked her to her bedroom door and kissed her lightly. He said he would return after everyone had gone to bed. Paula couldn’t wait that long. She gently pulled him into the room and locked the oak door behind her.
“Take off your shirt, Karl,” she said softly. He removed his tie and the kaki uniform shirt underneath. He also took off his undershirt. She slipped off her dress to make him feel more at ease. “Now your pants,” she said. Her tone was calm and neutral. She spoke as much with her eyes as with her voice. He did as instructed and stood before her naked. The lights were turned down low. She looked at his right arm. The skin was scarred and plasticized from the elbow to the shoulder. A similar scar ran up his side all the way to the arm pit. A pity, she thought. On Velor, we could have prevented this. She ran her finger along the scar. “Does it hurt,” she said,
“No,” he said. She took him in her arms and kissed him, and again he felt that delicious wave of warmth and energy. He reached for her.
“No,” she said. “Not yet. I want you to do something.” She took off her remaining undergarments, then lay back on the bed, naked, except for her golden necklace. Her legs hung over the side. She traced her finger over her nether lips. “Lick me there,” she said. Karl fell to his knees and did as she asked.
Velorians do not need much foreplay, but Paula wanted Karl to have as much of her energy as possible before intercourse. Her vaginal fluids were far more potent than the saliva in her kiss, and Karl was swept away with an overpowering rush of feelings. He moaned loudly as waves of energy flowed through him. He grew so hard it was almost painful. Paula motioned for him to lie on the bed.
“Don’t move,” she said. “Just do what I say.” She lowered herself onto his full erection and settled in. She began to move slowly up and down. She pinched her nipples hard to enhance the feelings flowing through her. Then she slid her hand down and stroked her clitoris. She felt alive and glorious as the orgone energy surged between them.
Karl was desperate with the urge to come. He had never been so crazed. “No,” she said softly. Her inner muscles clamped down hard on him, velvety soft over encircling steel. He gasped at her strength. She looked him in the eye and he was paralyzed. When she had him under control again, she resumed her movements.
A human man is not a hundredth as strong as a Velorian male, and certainly not as strong as an Arion Prime. But a skillful Velorian can pace a human during sex and get from him over time what he cannot deliver in a single surge. This is what Paula did. Over and over she brought him to the edge. Her orgasms flowed smoothly one after another.
Eventually, she was satiated. She looked down at Karl. He was far away, in a trance-like state, his entire being centered deep inside her sex. She changed her rhythm slightly and he stirred beneath her. This time she didn’t hold him back. He thrust upwards desperately, like a drowning man seeking the surface. With a scream he exploded into her and lost consciousness.
As was her habit, Paula arose early the next morning. Karl was still in her bed, sleeping like a baby. As she passed Ursula’s room, she could hear the unmistakable sounds of a morning tryst.
She found Hans and Gertrude drinking coffee in a breakfast nook by the kitchen. “Please join us, Paula,” said the colonel. She sat down. A housekeeper immediately appeared from the kitchen with a pot of coffee.
“This is Alcie, Paula. Tell her what you want for breakfast.
She said some eggs and sausage would be nice. If the Mueller’s were aware of last night’s bed hopping, they chose to ignore it. The colonel was his jovial self. Frau Mueller had retreated into her solemn persona.
“I must say, Paula, judging from last night, I believe Karl likes you. I haven’t seen him so happy in months.”
“Karl is a very nice man,” said Paula. She wasn’t sure what part of “last night” he was referring too.
“So, will you and Ursula be retuning to Düsseldorf?”
The question caught her by surprise. “No,” she said, “In fact, Ursula and I have taken off for the whole semester.”
“Oh really,” said the colonel.
“Yes,” said Paula thinking fast. “We prefer to holiday in the fall. Too many tourists in the summer you know.”
“But tourism has fallen off dramatically since the war,” he said.
“Well, we still prefer to travel in the fall.” She said it with a smile so dazzling he didn’t care if it was true or not.
“So you have a son in Russia,” said Paula, changing the subject.
“Yes, Michael,” he said. “He’s three years older than Karl. He’s with Sixth Army at Stalingrad. We pray for him every night.” The bravado of the beer tent was distinctly absent from his voice.
“I see,” said Paula. “May I ask you a personal question, Colonel?”
“You have two sons in harm’s way. How is it that a strong young man like Franz has a safe job working for you?” The colonel sighed. Frau Mueller made a gruff sound in her throat. Paula had obvious hit a nerve.
“Normally only a general officer qualifies for an aide,” said Hans. “But Franz is the only child of a high party official. I agreed to take him as a favor.”
“And because of the contracts he awarded your factories,” interjected Frau Mueller.
“We must all live in the world as it is,” said Hans.
A moment later Karl came down the back staircase and joined them. “Good morning,” he said with a smile. He gave Paula a look like a love struck school boy. The Mueller’s took notice. Karl leaned over and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. The housekeeper reappeared with a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs and sausage.
Karl took a swallow and looked out at the sun drenched lawn. “What a wonderful morning,” he said. Franz and Ursula were next to appear. The young men exchanged glances. It was the searching look of soldiers who have survived the same battle. Then Franz broke into a big grin.
After breakfast, Karl offered to show the girls around the estate. Franz came along too. It was a crisp clear morning. Most of the estate consisted of pasture surrounded by forested hills and farmland. Out behind the main house, a path led to a stable.
“You have horses?” asked Ursula.
“Yes,” said Karl, “We currently have three, but before the war we had as many as six.”
“I want to go riding,” said Ursula.
“All right,” said Karl. “You know Michael is an excellent horseman. I’m sure you can tell from his room.”
“Yes, I noticed,” said Ursula with a sideways wink at Paula.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and change?”
“I will,” said Ursula. “Who’ll join me?”
“I’d rather go for a walk,” said Paula.
Karl stood there awkwardly. “How about you Franz?” said Ursula.
“I never learned to ride,” he replied sheepishly.
“Well I’ll go by myself then,” she said with a slight pout.
Twenty minutes later Ursula returned wearing riding boots and britches. The clothes were Michael’s. They gave her a mannish look, if such a thing was possible, but given her height they were not a bad fit. She walked into the stable and selected the largest of the three horses. It was a brown stallion.
“I wouldn’t recommend that one,” said Karl. “That’s Blitzkrieg. He’s rather mean. He’ll tolerate father, but for anyone else he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
“Blitzkrieg?” said Paula.
“He was born on the day we invaded France,” said Karl. The name already sounded passé, thought Paula.
A groom saddled the horse and led him from the stable. The horse gave Ursula a curious look. She mounted him in one smooth flowing motion. The horse snorted, not sure what to make of this strange woman. Ursula squeezed her legs together and the horse froze as if in shock. Franz smirked and tried to catch Karl’s eye. Ursula nudged the horse with her boots and he broke into a smooth gait.
Karl was astonished. “He’s never behaved so well!” he exclaimed.
“I guess I have a way with men,” replied Ursula. She turned the horse around and trotted off towards a distant meadow.
Paula and Karl started off down the path on foot.
“So how long have you been in the Luftwaffe?” asked Paula.
“I joined in the spring of 1940,” he said. “I was in flight school during the French campaign. The first action I saw was in Russia.”
“And the crash?” she asked.
“It was in March.” She could sense an anxious tone in his voice. “There was snow that day. Visibility was poor. We were ordered to fly anyway. The Russians had launched a counterattack. We didn’t accomplish a thing. I crashed in the fog while trying to land.” His voice almost cracked on the word "crash".
She looked at him in alarm. “Are you all right?”
Karl nodded, but did not speak.
She took his hand in hers and he clasped it tightly.
“Are you afraid of flying?” She asked. He looked at her in alarm.
“Oh no,” he said. His answer was not convincing. He looked far younger than twenty-five, she thought. A mere boy.
“I can do it,” he continued. “I’ve almost put the crash out of my mind. Last night I didn’t even dream about it.”
“You have nightmares?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I dream I’m on fire. I wake up thrashing around trying to put out the flames. I’m afraid I might kick you.”
“Don’t worry about me,” said Paula. She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled.
“So have you ever flown?” he asked after a moment.
“Yes,” she said, thinking fast. “A pilot took me up in a biplane once.”
“Oh no, it was at a fair. Lots of people got rides.”
“Did you like it?” he asked.
“Yes, it was thrilling.” After a moment she added, “So, Karl, will you take me up?”
“Okay,” he said. In the distance they saw Ursula on the other side of the meadow. She was urging Blitzkrieg to jump a fence. “She’s certainly fearless,” he said.
It was several days before Karl made good on his promise. The Luftwaffe had a training facility in nearby Merseburg, and Karl had access to the field as part of his rehabilitation. They pulled into the parking lot one morning and walked out to the flight line. A group of cadets stared openly at Paula. They gave Karl a crisp salute as the couple passed. With a woman like that on his arm, he must be an ace, they thought.
Despite Karl’s assurance about his ability, Paula could sense his anxiety as they approached the plane. The aircraft was a Czech made Avia B-534. She was surprised to see it was an open air biplane. She had expected something more – modern. The Luftwaffe had acquired a large contingent of these planes in 1938 when they absorbed the Czech Air Force. They were now used for training new pilots. There were two cockpits, front and rear. “Don’t worry,” said Paula. “You’ll do fine. This will be fun.”
It was not fun, however. Karl’s movements were stiff and mechanical, like a novice. His grip on the stick was far too tight and he constantly over corrected. Paula found the cockpit noisy and confining. How sad, she thought, to have to fly this way.
But on subsequent visits, Karl got better. With each passing week, he grew more relaxed and confident. Every turn was smoother, every landing less bumpy. He began practicing with faster, more powerful aircraft.
His confidence was growing in the bedroom too. At night they’d make glorious love and he’d fall asleep in her arms. When the nightmares came, she would cradle him and tell him everything would be all right. Clasped against her warm breasts in the darkness of the bedroom, it was easy to believe it was true.
The Colonel and Frau Mueller noticed the change in Karl also. “Paula has had a marvelous effect on him,” said the colonel one day. They were eating breakfast on a Saturday morning and no one else had come down yet.
“Ja,” said Frau Mueller.
“They remind me of us when we were young,” he said. “Love blossoms quickly in war time. Remember?”
She smiled at the memory of their courtship in the days of Kaiser Wilhelm.
“I suppose so,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Her influence on Karl is not all good. The sooner he recovers, the sooner we lose him.”
“Ja, that has occurred to me. I will make some calls. I think I can keep him home through Christmas. She would make an excellent wife for him, you know.”
Ursula, on the other hand, had a much more casual relationship with Franz. They would make love all night, and when morning came, Franz would stagger down to breakfast looking exhausted. Unlike Karl, who could sleep late, Franz’s duties required him to accompany Herr Mueller to work. The household staff got quite a chuckle from his predicament.
After the colonel and Franz left for the factory each day, Ursula would go riding in the countryside. She found herself growing increasingly bored. She daydreamed of destroying tanks on the Russian Front. She could knock out dozens in a single night, she thought, and still be back by morning. When she wasn’t thinking about the war, she spent her time chatting and flirting with the local farmers. It was a means of getting attention and helped relieve the monotony of the passing days. She soon became a prime topic of conversation in the local gasthouse. It was thus that the colonel learned of her approaching birthday.
“Ursula,” he said one evening at dinner, “Alcie was telling me she heard at the bakery that you have a birthday coming up.”
“Oh really,” she said looking surprised. “I only mentioned it to a couple people.”
“Well, you two should know you are quite the talk of the town. I think a party is called for.”
Ursula’s eyes lit up. A diversion from the rural tedium would be wonderful. “Oh thank you!” she said.
“November the tenth is it?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Well, we’ll start making plans then.”
The days went by, each one slightly shorter. The trees on the surrounding hillsides faded from gold to brown. On clear mornings, the girls could look out their bedroom windows and see the snow line creeping lower on the mountains to the south. On the first Monday in November, Herr Mueller came home from work with an important announcement. The Fuehrer was coming to Munich. It was the anniversary of the famous “Beer Hall Putsch.” And the colonel had tickets.
“You know, I was at the Feldherrnhalle in 1923 when the Fuehrer was arrested,” said Hans that night at dinner. “Of course I was not a party member at the time, so I avoided arrest and the street fighting too. But I’ve always thought it a shameful day for Germany that the coup was put down. Germany would have had a ten year head start on the road to recovery. The allies would never have dared to threaten us. As it was, the Fuehrer spent nine months in prison. But prison just made him a better author, as any reader of Mein Kampf can see.”
Ursula gave Franz a smile across the table. Since her arrival, he no longer listened so intently to the colonel’s speeches.
The rest of the week was spent either talking about or preparing for the Fuehrer’s visit. It turned out that there was a reception planned for after the ceremony. “Everyone will be there,” said Hans. “The reception is an opportunity for government officials to ask the Fuehrer for support for their programs. Many members of the High Command will also be present. Why in 1940, I landed a major contract at this very reception.”
Ursula and Paula consulted Frau Mueller on what they should wear. They decided that a simple black dress would be both stylish and befitting the solemnity of the occasion. The men, of course, would be in uniform.
The ceremony was scheduled to start at eight o’clock at the Loewenbraukeller. The original putsch of course, was at the Buergerbraukeller. But that beer house had been partially destroyed by a bomb blast during the ceremony in 1939. A traitor had set the bomb off in an unsuccessful attempt on the Fuehrer’s life.
Security in subsequent years had increased significantly. After waiting in line to get through security, the Mueller party was seated a little before eight. The beer hall was packed. At precisely eight o’clock there was a blast of trumpets playing the Hitler Youth Fanfare. The contingent of Youth then marched into the hall carrying the flags of the nation. Next the audience rose and sang “Do You See the Dawn in the East?”
Paula found it all disconcerting. There’s no dawn in the east, she thought, just hordes of vengeful Russians. More and more lately, she felt as if this was all just a movie set she was trapped in. Her only solace was Karl. Sometimes at night she would search the databases in her head, seeking knowledge of his fate. But the databases weren’t detailed enough to give her an answer. How could this world be real? she thought. The twentieth century is over. Velor is real. This place is not. She closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek, just to feel the pain. When she opened her eyes though, it was still November 8, 1942, and she was still in Nazi Germany.
There followed an invocation. With typical Nordic symbolism a priest said a prayer honoring the sixteen Nazi’s who had died when the police opened fire on that fateful day in 1923. Another song followed. And then the Fuehrer took the stage. The crowd went wild. “Heil Hitler! Heil Hitler!” they screamed.
The Fueher asked for calm and began to speak. “Truly the souls of these sixteen who fell have celebrated a resurrection unique in world history. The miracle is that from this sacrifice came Germany's unity, this victory of a movement, an idea, and the devotion of the entire people. All that, we owe to these first men! If I had found no one then ready to risk his life, it would have been impossible to find them later as well. All the subsequent blood sacrifices were inspired by the sacrifice of these first men.
“Therefore we raise them out of the darkness of forgetfulness and make them the center of attention of the German people forever. For us they are not dead. This temple is no crypt, but an eternal watch. Here they stand for Germany, on guard for our people. Here they lie as true martyrs of our movement. We celebrated this day each year in the past — not always in the same form during the years of persecution — and we are determined that it will be for all times a holiday for the German people. We do this not because sixteen men died. Thousands die daily, even more during an hour of war. We do it because these sixteen men, with believing hearts, died in a way that helped the German people to rise again.
The crowd applauded, but Hitler was just getting warmed up. “A Reich never develops unless sanctified by faith and sacrifice seals that faith,” he said. “The song of their holy sacrifice is carried by the winds in every direction. There was a time when Germany betrayed them. The meaning of their sacrifice was denied, they fell into the shadows. Objects of reproach, they stood in the mists and their faith seemed to have been wasted. But a new age dawned on earth and found new sacrifices for a burning faith. In a declining Reich a new will rose, with new goals, which could only be achieved over holy graves.”
The speech went on for ninety minutes, punctuated with foot stamping, and shrieks of “Seig Heil!” Hitler railed about how Germany’s enemies had tried to strangle her, and how surrounded on all sides, holy Germany had struck out and conquered her foes.
Ursula watched the Fuehrer carefully. He does have a way with the people, she thought. But overall, she was disappointed. The high command needed someone more supreme running things. Only then could Germany achieve her destiny. Velor would not rescue her and Paula. Germany was her country now. Perhaps she should take action.
The Fuehrer concluded his speech. “Our valiant heroes now stand guard from Narvik to Egypt, from Brest to Stalingrad. And yes, Stalingrad is firmly in our hands.” The crowd cheered long and loud. Hitler stayed up on the stage shaking hands with the party faithful.
Colonel Mueller said they would have a chance to meet the Fuehrer at the reception. As soon as order was restored in the hall and the flags retired, they left for a nearby hotel. When they arrived, the reception room was already crowded. Many people who did not have a ticket for the ceremony had come straight to the reception.
Franz went to the bar to fetch drinks for everyone. “Well, what did you think of the speech,” asked the colonel.
“It was very moving,” said Paula.
Ursula seemed to concur, but her attention was focused across the room.
“Herr Colonel, who is that man over there? I think I’ve seen his picture.” She was gesturing to a balding man who appeared to be in his forties.
“I have no idea,” said the Colonel. Ursula, of course, new exactly who the man was. He was Werner Heisenberg, the head of the German nuclear program. But she also knew she would appear forward if she approached him by herself.
“Yes, I remember,” she said. “I saw his picture in a scientific journal in Düsseldorf. It’s Werner Heisenberg.”
“You read science journals, Ursula?” asked the colonel.
“Yes, my major is physics. Didn’t I mention that?”
Physics? thought Paula. She didn’t like the way this conversation was going. The colonel and the two girls approached the famous professor.
“You’re Dr. Heisenberg, aren’t you,” said Ursula.
“Ja,” said the doctor, surprised at his age to be approached by such a beautiful young woman. Colonel Muller introduced himself and the two women.
“I am very impressed with your uncertainty principle, Herr Doctor. I think it has the potential to revolutionize the transportation industry someday.”
“Huh?” Heisenberg look puzzled. “You are familiar with my work?”
“Yes I’m physics major at the University of Düsseldorf.”
“Oh really, then you must know Doctor Schmidt?”
“Yes, I took a class from him,” said Ursula without batting an eye.
Paula mentally cringed. What’s she up to, she wondered.
To prove her credentials to Heisenberg, Ursula shifted the conversation to a technical discussion of Heisenberg’s theory. The colonel was quickly lost. He spied Albert Speer across the room and drifted over to discuss business.
“So what did you think of the Fuehrer’s speech,” asked Paula, trying to change the subject.
“It was a wonderful speech,” the doctor said carefully. “But I primarily came to Munich to discuss funding for my projects. I have an appointment with the Fuehrer tomorrow in Berchtesgaden.”
“Is that your work with heavy water,” asked Ursula.
“How did you know about that?” asked Heisenberg. “It’s supposed to be secret.” His tone was surprisingly nonchalant, thought Paula. But then again, many scientists were apathetic when it came to secrecy. It ran counter to their inquisitive nature.
“Any student can infer these things from reviewing the journals.”
“Ja, I have always thought the same thing,” said the doctor.
“You know Herr Doctor, it is common knowledge that heavy water is difficult to produce. Have you ever considered using some other material to control the reaction? I’ve often thought graphite had potential.”
Heisenberg gave her a strange look. Paula was mortified.
“The colonel is motioning for us,” said Paula, pulling Ursula by the arm.
The two women excused themselves and headed over towards the colonel.
“Let go of me,” snapped Ursula.
“What were you thinking, telling him that?” demanded Paula.
“Leave me alone,” she said.
Colonel Mueller and the rest of the group were in line to meet the Fuehrer. Franz handed them both a drink, while they waited. Up ahead, the Fuehrer seemed preoccupied thought Paula. He was cordial enough with the guests, but he let a Wehrmacht officer interrupt him with a message. Probably news of El Alamein, thought Paula.
Then it was their turn. Colonel Mueller introduced them, Ursula first, then Paula. The Fuehrer gave them each a brief kiss on the hand. He smiled, but his gray eyes looked tired. Ursula locked onto his eyes. He was momentarily stunned by her beauty. But then Ursula released his gaze. Not worth it, Paula guessed.
“I think he’s impotent,” Ursula said later when they had cleared the line.
“Me too,” said Paula. “Poor Eva.”
Ursula laughed. “Her looks are so plain they deserve each other.”
They left the reception shortly thereafter. On the way out, Paula saw Dr. Heisenberg sitting alone in a corner, an untouched drink by his side. He was deep in thought.
When they arrived back at the manor, Paula crossed through the sewing room to see Ursula. The décor of the elder son’s room was much more masculine than the guest room. Framed photos of Michael in his uniform adorned the dresser. Equestrian trophies and other sports memorabilia filled a bookshelf along one wall. Their shared joke about Hitler at the reception gave Paula hope that she could reason with her partner.
“So why were you helping Heisenberg?” she began.
“We could be here forever,” said Ursula. “We should make some plans based on that assumption. This war is starting to hurt Germany. I think we should end it.”
“With a Nazi victory?” said Paula in alarm.
“Why not?” said Ursula. “They’re our people.”
“Don’t you know what the Nazi’s are doing in Russia, in Poland? To the Jews?”
“The Germans have a right to racial purity just like we do,” said Ursula. “Or haven’t you looked in a mirror lately? Besides I prefer deportation to extermination. We could send the Jews to Palestine. After our victory, the British will be in no position to object.” Ursula wandered over to an antique globe in the corner and looked down at the world. “In fact, we could draft the Jews into the Africa Corps. Promise them a homeland when Rommel captures Jerusalem. That would shut our critics up.”
“You’re crazy” said Paula.
“Am I?” said Ursula with a sigh. “Well we’re not going to solve the problems of the world tonight. Besides, I’m expecting Franz.”
After Paula had left, Ursula started to undress. Paula’s interference with her plans angered her. Perhaps she and Franz would try something different tonight. She went over to the closet and inspected the equestrian gear. She selected a stiff black riding crop. Then she sat down and waited.
The next morning, the family came down to breakfast in their usual order. The colonel and Frau Mueller first, followed by Paula, the other early bird in the house.
“Good morning, Paula,” said Hans cheerfully.
“Good morning,” she replied. Alcie appeared from the kitchen and filled her coffee cup.
“I see Karl is sleeping in again. It seems he seldom rises before nine since you arrived,” he said with a chuckle. Paula was spared the need to reply as Ursula came down the stairs. She greeted the Muellers cordially, but largely ignored Paula. Last to arrive was Franz, already in uniform. He sat down gingerly and asked for coffee.
“I would like to have a talk with you this morning, Paula,” said Frau Mueller. “Perhaps after the men have left for work.”
The two Velorians exchanged glances. “All right,” said Paula.
When breakfast was over, the colonel and Franz left for the factory. Ursula announced it was time for her morning ride. When the house was quiet, Frau Mueller led Paula upstairs to a sitting area in the master suite. The sun poured through the large window. adding warmth and light to the heavy old world furnishings.
“Have you wondered, Paula, why the colonel has been so generous in letting you stay here so long?”
“I do not question generosity in others, Frau Mueller.”
“With your beauty, that does not surprise me. And please, call me Gertrude.”
She paused and then continued. “I know you and Karl are lovers.”
“I am very fond of Karl,” Paula said cautiously.
“Do you love him?”
“I would rather not answer that.”
“Perhaps you are afraid to fall in love. This war has taken many lives. It will take many more before it ends.”
“I fear you’re right,” said Paula.
“The colonel hopes you will marry Karl. The boy is certain to ask you.”
Paula was silent. “You don’t have to say anything.” Frau Mueller continued, “I was Han’s bride during the first war. I know the fear of becoming a widow. With Karl in the Luftwaffe and Michael in Russia, we worry about the future. Hans pretends not to, but I see no point in hiding it.”
Paula wasn’t sure where this was going.
“I must speak frankly, dear. The entire household hears you and your cousin almost every night. You are both, how shall I say, quite spirited. Mind you, I do not begrudge the men their pleasure. After all, they may both be dead this time next year. But I heard, she hesitated, I heard… I heard you told Karl protection was unnecessary.”
She looked Paula in the eye “Are you unfertile, my dear?”
“That is a very personal question, Frau Mueller.”
“Nevertheless, you are a guest in my house and I require an answer. With this war going on, you may be our only chance for a grandchild. So tell me: Are You infertile.”
Paula swallowed hard. “No, I’m not infertile”. It wasn’t exactly a lie, she thought.
“Well good.” Gertrude smiled. “Then I assume you are trying to get pregnant.”
Her logic caught Paula by surprise. She wasn’t sure what to say. “Your son is a wonderful man, Frau Mueller. “I’m not trying to get pregnant though…” That made no sense, she thought. “I mean I’m sure he will marry me of course if, if… I get pregnant.” Alarmed, she added, “But of course I’m not trying to trap him or anything.” She laughed at her clumsiness and the absurdity of the situation. Frau Mueller laughed too, relieved that the tension between them was broken.
“Give me a hug Paula. You’re almost family.”
The day passed uneventfully, but later that night Ursula came into Paula’s room, cigarette in hand. Paula wrinkled her nose in distaste.
“I heard about your little chat with Frau Mueller,” said Ursula. “It’s all the servants are talking about. So you’re going to get married, huh? What are you going to do, Paula? Introduce him to your parents? Invite your friends from Düsseldorf to be your bridesmaids?” Her sarcasm was vicious. She took a drag on her cigarette and said, “What were you thinking, Paula!”
“I don’t know. She caught me by surprise. I had to tell her something.” She could feel her throat tightening. Tears swelled in her eyes.
“Humans are just for sex, Paula. Surely you know that. Perhaps you see now why I chose Franz.” Paula began to sob softly. “Protectors don’t cry,” said Ursula in amazement. How did you ever get past the psych eval?”
“How did you,” said Paula. “You’ve, you’ve…” She pushed the German out of her mind and uttered a phase in Velorian. The rough translation was “gone native”.
“I’m proud to be a German,” said Ursula, “and you’re German too. You look German, you speak German, you think German. We live in Germany and we’re not going back. You need to face that, Paula.”
“Deutschland uber Alles!”
Paula heard in her head, but Ursula was no longer speaking.
What is happening to me? thought Paula. “No, No, I’m not a German!” she shrieked. “Can a German do this?” She thrust her hand into the stonework surrounding the fireplace and ripped out a piece the size of a bowling ball. In a rage, she hurled it across the room. It crashed through the window like a howitzer shell and disappeared from view. Then she collapsed on the floor in tears.
A few hours later Paula was roused from the small couch in the sewing room. It was Fritz, the butler. The colonel requested her presence in his study.
“I need to know what happened, Paula,” he said when she entered.
“We had a fight. I lost my temper. I’m sorry for the damage I caused.”
“Where’s the stone, Paula?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the servants cleaned it up. It was loose anyway, you know.”
Hans knew he had to be very careful. Ursula had claimed Paula pried the stone loose with a fireplace poker. He didn’t believe that for a minute. But still, his deepest desire was a grandchild from this woman. He very badly wanted a marriage that would add her bloodline to the family tree.
But he also wanted the truth. “Paula, the stone was not loose. No servant cleaned it up. Except for broken glass, the lawn outside the window remains undisturbed.” He paused. “Listen, Paula, I can tell you’re tired. Ursula’s birthday is tomorrow and I don’t want anything to spoil the party. Let’s meet again the day after.” His tone was conciliatory. “But I need the truth Paula. Otherwise, I’ll have no choice but to inform the authorities.”
After Paula left, the colonel sat at his desk thinking. There was a soft knock on the door. It was Ursula. “Could I have a word with you Herr Colonel”?
“Of course, Fraulein.” He motioned her towards a chair.
She sat down and crossed her legs. “Part of Paula’s problem,” she began, “is that she’s worried that Karl will soon go back to the Luftwaffe. I’m sure you understand.”
“Ja,” said the colonel.
“I have a request to make, Herr Colonel. You must promise to keep this confidential.” He nodded. “I’ve known my cousin since we were children so you can trust my judgment on this.”
“Go on,” he said.
“Well, it’s been my experience that when Paula gets upset, there’s nothing like,” she hesitated “well what would make her feel better that is … is well, she likes gold.”
“Gold?” said the colonel. He laughed. How like a woman he thought.
“I’m serious, colonel. If you could procure some gold, I can guarantee there will be no more problems.”
He gave her a puzzled look. “How much do you need?” he asked.
The first snow of the season fell the next day. It was just an inch, but it added to the holiday mood of the impending festivities. By the time of the party that night, a silver half moon illuminated the white fields surrounding the manor.
The large table in the dining room was set for twenty guests. Word had gotten out about Herr Mueller’s beautiful houseguests. The mayor was coming, and several of Hans’ fellow businessmen from the city. It was a formal affair. The officers wore their dress uniforms. The women were in their best dresses.
Paula had been on her best behavior all day. She entered the room and stood demurely with Karl by the table. Her dress was a pale gray color that complemented her blonde hair.
Then Ursula entered, accompanied by Franz. She wore a red satin dress with the bodice cut low to expose her magnificent breasts. Around her neck was a diamond and ruby necklace on loan from Frau Mueller. The other women in the room looked askance. Didn’t she know there was a war on? But the men in the room applauded and the women joined in politely. Ursula relished the moment. Tonight she affected a black cigarette holder, and as the party progressed, the men competed with their lighters for the favor of her attention.
When they sat down to eat, Ursula looked down the table at her many admirers. “If they treat me like this in Munich,” she thought, “just wait until I get to Berlin.” The servants brought out the first course. The wine flowed freely and the jewelry around her neck put Ursula in a wonderful mood. They were just beginning the main course when the guests heard a low-pitched drone outside the house.
“An air raid!” exclaimed one of the guests.
“Don’t worry,” said Hans. “We’re ten miles from the city.”
“The Luftwaffe will stop them,” someone else said. In the distance they heard explosions. And then, much closer, an ominous whistling sound.
The bomb exploded in the courtyard outside the dining room, shattering the large palladium windows. The entire house shook. The large chandelier hanging from the ceiling shuttered and then plunged to the table beneath. Broken china and food flew everywhere. A large gob of mashed potatoes hit Ursula in the face. Gravy coated her breasts and the front of her gown. “That did it,” she said, wiping the food from her eyes and hair.
She stalked out of the room, kicking off her useless heels on the way. When she reached the courtyard, she rose up in the air and hovered like angry Athena in the hall of Odysseus. Then she streaked upward.
Paula saw her leave and followed. “Oh no,” she thought.
The bombers were flying at ten thousand feet. They were British Lancasters, with a longer range than the older Halifax. They had two hundred planes left after crossing most of Germany, and tonight the target was Munich. At the edge of the bomber formations, the outgunned Luftwaffe hunted for stragglers. As with any night raid, accuracy was problematic and the bombs fell everywhere. Down below, anti aircraft batteries began firing. Tracers and searchlights pierced the wispy clouds. Flack burst like fireworks among the British formations.
Ursula picked out a plane. She smashed through it like a missile, and the aircraft disintegrated. She tensed her muscles and began a high G turn while focusing on another target. It was then that Paula struck her broadside. The Velorians collided with a sharp crack like billiard balls on a table. Ursula caromed upward and Paula bounced back towards the earth.
Ursula recovered first and pounced on another plane. This one she hit on the wing, nearly tearing it off. The plane began to spiral downward. Far below, Paula saw the plane falling in the moonlight. Tiny figures appeared in doorways and hatches. The figures jumped and fell towards her until one by one their parachutes opened.
But one parachute didn’t open. A look of terror filled the young man’s face as he fell past Paula. With a swoop she dove and grabbed him. Her silver gown and hair flowed in the wind. “An angel,” thought the man. With one hand she freed the tangled chute from around his feet and legs. She dropped him lightly, and watched the chute blossom and drift down to earth.
In the distance Paula could see fires in the city. The bombers had evidently hit an industrial complex full of fuel and chemicals. Then she saw another plane fall from the sky, although no flack had burst near it. “Ursula,” she thought.
She climbed back towards the planes above her. Ursula was about to tear the wings off another bomber. Paula came up on her left. The two women were within yards of each other when Paula was momentarily distracted by a burst of flack.
With a swift chop of her hand, Ursula severed a propeller from the aircraft wing below her. The blade spun wildly like a sickle flying through the air. Paula turned and saw it at the last split second before it struck her in the head.
Velorians are virtually indestructible, but they are not exempt from the laws of inertia. Without time to prepare for the blow, Paula’s head snapped backwards. Her perfect brow was not even cut. But the brain behind her brow moved too, and bumped hard against the inside of her skull. Paula suffered a concussion.
Ursula seized the dazed Velorian and began descending through the thin clouds. The gold Herr Mueller had procured for her was stored in a wall safe in his study. It was industrial gold, used for soldering and other specialized uses. She doubted it would do. Instead of the study, she aimed for the master suite on the second floor. She crashed through the window and dropped Paula on the floor. “Franz!” she screamed.
The crowd in the dining room had recovered from the explosion and were wondering what happened to the two women. When they heard Ursula’s cry, they came running up the stairs, Franz in the lead. As soon as he entered the room, Ursula screamed “Lock the door!” Then she shoved a massive dresser in front of it.
Paula took advantage of the moment to rise and make a stumbling tackle. The women rolled around on the floor locked in a deadly embrace. Their evening gowns were ripped and torn. Bare flesh and lacy undergarments shown through. The women groaned and snarled like mating cats. Breasts, buttocks, and thighs glistened. Franz watched in amazement, a riot of misplaced emotions rushing through his body. Outside the room there were shouts and a large crash. The door strained against the iron hinges but did not yield.
“Franz,” snarled Ursula, “Get me some gold.”
“Yes gold.” She gasped between exertions. “There’s a jewelry box on the dresser. Do I have to tell you everything?”
Franz obediently went to the dresser. With a deft move, Ursula slipped behind Paula and got her in a bear hug. She flipped herself up into a sitting position against the wall with Paula’s back grasped firmly against her chest.
Ursula would have preferred more gold than was available in the jewelry box. As with most forces in nature, the strength of the gold decreased as the inverse square of the distance. Therefore, merely covering Paula’s limbs in jewelry would not work for what she needed to do. She hooked her feet between Paula’s legs and pried them apart.
“Cram some up her cunt!” ordered Ursula. Paula began to scream in an unfamiliar language. Franz looked at Ursula in amazement. She gave him her fiercest command look. Like a robot, Franz cut away her undergarments with a small knife, and stared at Paula’s exposed bush.
“Do it!” said Ursula. Franz selected a small gold earring. He carefully slipped it into the helpless woman’s vagina. “More!” said Ursula. “Find something bigger.”
Franz pulled a bracelet made with gold links from the box and began to work it into Paula’s cunt. Her muscles began to weaken. Next he pushed a gold watch into her. He stared in amazement. The ornate edges of the watch stretched the lips of her vagina, but they did not tear and there was no bleeding. He continued to feed various pieces of gold into her cunt until it would hold no more.
“Stick some up her ass,” commanded Ursula. The Velorian arched her back, lifting Paula off the floor and exposing her anus. Her screams had turned to low moans by now. Franz slowly pushed a necklace into her rectum. The disheveled look of his victim and the tight warm feel of her anus gave him a feeling of power. His mouth grew dry with excitement.
Paula was noticeably weaker. She no longer struggled in Ursula’s arms and her eyes were glazed over. Ursula freed one hand and pried Paula’s mouth open. “Now her mouth,” she said. Franz suppressed Paula’s tongue with the blade of the knife. He peered deep into her throat like some doctor at Auschwitz examining a new specimen. He began dropping jewelry down her trachea. Paula’s gag reflex still functioned, and she renewed her struggle. Outside the door, the crashes were becoming louder and he could hear Colonel Mueller shouting.
Ursula took several deep breaths and once again put both arms around Paula’s chest. She began to squeeze. Franz heard a sound like a steel beam bending under stress. Then there was a sound like heavy glass breaking inside her chest. It was Paula’s ribs cracking.
Then he heard another sound. A low hum seemed to fill the room. He could feel the pressure changing like the onset of a thunder storm. The wall in front of him began to shimmer like the surface of a highway on a hot summer day. A patch of silvery gray fog appeared near the wall, slowly taking the shape of an oblong donut standing on end. The center was completely black. Out of the black dived a naked woman. She landed on her hands, rolled in a graceful summersault and stood up. Two, three, four more women followed. They were all tall, blonde and buxom. Franz stared in awe.
“Ursula!” shouted the first woman through the hole, “Let her go!” Before Ursula could respond, two of the other women grabbed her by the arms and pulled her away from Paula. The first woman turned, and with a casual backhand slap sent Franz sprawling across the room with a broken jaw. The Protector glared at Ursula. “Go!” she said. Ursula stood there defiantly, a breast protruding from her torn gown. She glared back, then dove though the wormhole.
The women immediately began extracting the jewelry from Paula’s body. The Protectors treated the gold like it was radioactive, disdainfully tossing it in a corner. They took turns to limit their exposure.
There was a crash and the blade of an ax appeared on the inside of the door. The Protectors quickly added a huge armoire to the makeshift barrier. Paula rose to her knees and began coughing. Jewelry spewed from her mouth, broken and bent, a sign of her returning strength.
“How did you find us?” she gasped.
“We set up an array of Scribes” said the Protector. “We used a 4-D sonar plot with time set to negative. It wasn’t easy. This is the fourth try we’ve made. It’s more luck than science.”
“Paula,” she said, changing the subject, “Can you jump?” Behind the armoire, the door was rapidly disintegrating under the blows of the ax.
“Paula!” It was Karl from the other side of the door. She looked at the armoire blocking the door and hesitated. “Paula!” cried Karl. Her lip began to quiver. Then, holding her sore ribs with both hands, she slowly turned and dove though the wormhole. The other protectors followed.
There was now only one woman left in the room. She had taken no part in the rescue, merely observing. Who are you?” mumbled Franz from the corner.
“Consider us Valkyries,” said the Scribe. She made a running leap and the room returned to normal.
Ursula was expelled from the ranks of the Protectors. For whatever reason, Werner Heisenberg never followed up on her suggestion to use graphite to control a fission reaction. Instead, the Germans continued their fruitless experiments with heavy water. Michael died in a prisoner of war camp in Kazakhstan. Karl was shot down over France in 1944. On her next trip to Earth, Paula paid a secret visit to his grave. Franz eventually ended up in an infantry division on the western front. He surrendered to the allies at the first opportunity. After the war he became a famous announcer on German television. The colonel and Frau Mueller also survived the war. Hans ingratiated himself with General Patton, the Military Governor of Bavaria. Eventually he rebuilt his factories, and in the decades that followed, he amassed a new fortune. But he would have traded it all for the grandchildren he never had.