Escape Operation (1)
"…I wouldn't call that a good plan."
"That's a natural reaction. They may be racists, but they feed you, give you somewhere comfortable to stay, and even a certain degree of respect. And except for the blonde hair, you even fall under the category of 'superior stock.'"
"That's—"
"I can offer better terms. Of course, it will take time, and at first the living conditions will be quite miserable."
"…You? Or your community?"
"I have people I used to lead."
"How many? Compared to here—"
"To be honest, it's very small. Including me, four people."
"Four…"
She was deliberating.
Even though it was a community of only four.
That alone was proof of how much she hated this place.
But after a long silence, Dietrich shook her head.
"I appreciate the offer, but I… For one thing, isn't having this conversation itself extremely dangerous?"
It wasn't a firm refusal.
That was enough.
"How long do you think Hans will protect us?"
"…What?"
"You're a veterinarian, and I can make and repair all sorts of things—but I'm not a specialist. In other words, both of us are rather ambiguous people. Me, who knows a lot but only shallowly, and you, who knows a little medicine even though it's outside your field."
"So."
"The day they find a real doctor. And the day Hans finds proper specialists in the fields he needs… how long do you think they'll keep us around?"
Of course, they might keep us as assistants to those specialists.
But as colonization progressed, as they took in and filtered survivors, finding specialists would become easy.
And then the problem was that we could just as easily be used as sacrificial lambs for food efficiency or to quell internal dissent.
Like hunting dogs under a hunter—boiled and eaten the moment our usefulness ran out… that kind of fate.
"Color… no, usefulness, you said. You have a point…"
"Of course, that moment isn't coming tomorrow. At worst it could take ten years; if we're unlucky, they might never find anyone. In the meantime you could gain surgical experience here, or study in your spare time and build up various medical knowledge."
"But you're saying these Nazis might turn on me at any moment?"
The communications officer—Jakob, was it?
She was probably referring to that guy from earlier, with the extremely violent look and the square jaw.
"Are you American, Ms. Dietrich?"
"I lived in Germany as a child, but I came to America with my parents."
"…The Nazis must have loved that."
"Not really. Something about blondes looking stupid. Major Hans did work hard to defend me, so I'm getting this level of treatment—but even that feels precarious. Things like this keep happening."
She was almost convinced.
Then the finishing blow.
"Major Hans is preparing a coup."
"I know that. The communications officer…"
So the loose-lipped one was the communications officer.
Was Hans leaving him alone for the sake of the operation?
"If that coup fails, for any reason."
"…My position becomes precarious."
"There are extremists on both sides. People more interested in ideology than survival."
—Crackle.
We both flinched at the sudden sound of the radio.
I handed her the radio, and she accepted it calmly, with a perfectly composed expression.
"Go ahead."
"There's a large bruise on his abdomen. Other than that, I don't see any notable external injuries. After the hot compress, I'm planning to finish treatment with an ice pack."
"It would be difficult for him to do rough work with a bruise like that."
Dietrich looked at me for a moment.
She released the radio button, then opened her mouth.
"What do you want to do?"
"If you're asking what I want?"
"The work does look immediately difficult, that's true. If Communications Officer Miles hadn't interfered, we could have reduced the pain somewhat."
I could have slacked off, but I didn't want to.
I needed to give the doctor in front of me at least enough trust that I could open an escape opportunity for her.
"Do you have any painkillers?"
"I do. Strong ones and weak ones."
"If it's the strong kind—"
"This."
Morphine.
"For reference, every senior officer except Major Schultz is already addicted to morphine."
Ah.
The situation was far more precarious than I'd thought.
That also explained why Schultz's influence was stretching so far in every direction.
"Give me the weak one."
Either way, drug addiction wasn't good.
I could make morphine injections with a pile of drugs, a bottle of painkillers, and an empty syringe—but addiction of any kind was a condition that burned through resources and time.
"Major Schultz, are you still there?"
"I'm going to prescribe the patient ibuprofen. It's only a painkiller, so after the work he must come back to me for treatment."
A water cup and a single pill were handed to me.
I swallowed it, and my stomach felt somewhat better.
"As for the conversation—"
"Shall we continue when you get back?"
I pulled my clothes down and stretched both arms out.
Right on cue, sounds came from the iron door.
"I appreciate the words, but slipping past this many eyes…"
"What if I told you I have the ability to cause an incident worth that?"
Before opening the door, I turned slightly and smiled.
"It would be better to prove it through action rather than words. Don't you think?"
"…Just come back safely. Most people don't."
There was still doubt in her eyes, but far less than before.
I needed to drive the wedge in further.
"Is this how I should hold it?"
"Careful not to hurt your back. Yes."
Having thrown the armor plate onto the floor, four Waffen-SS soldiers slowly lowered the pipe.
"Is there a replacement pipe? Of course not."
Normally when something like this happened, you'd replace it with a new one.
You could see where the metal had finally bent under the pressure.
Well, I could disassemble a pipe right here and make a new one, but that process wasn't exactly "realistic."
And it was burdensome in various ways with Schultz leaning against the railing right now, watching me.
"I'll do what I can. Torch."
I lowered the welding mask and blasted fire onto the iron.
I hammered the red-hot metal, trying to straighten the bent section.
Easy to say, but the problem was the time it took and the heat.
I started to sweat.
"If there's any way I can help—"
"It's dangerous, so just stay back. You'll get to work hard enough when we reconnect the pipes anyway."
The remaining slight curve bothered me, but this was only a temporary fix.
And anyway, this pipe needed to cause a spectacular problem again for an escape window to open.
"Is it done?"
"Yes. Ah, you four over there, get ready as well."
"Us, sir?"
"Yes. The reconnection work takes a long time, so it's much better to rotate with these people."
In a place packed with people, inserting bolts and nuts and tightening them.
Watching the muscle-bound faces turn red, I ordered the rotation.
After quite a long struggle—
"Good… You can let go now."
Leaving the soldiers leaning back and pouring with sweat, I gave the bolts and nuts one final tight turn.
Though I'd deliberately left one side under-tightened.
"So, can we resume heating as of today?"
"No. I need to look at the pressure gauges. Until we replace the pipes themselves, things like this will keep happening. It could also be a problem with the boiler itself, so it's going to be a long job."
That wasn't a lie.
Unfortunately.
I could see the Wehrmacht side's faces darkening.
"Then, is that everything for now?"
"Yes. Ah, before you go, would you spread your arms to the si—"
The radio of the soldier who had approached, still sweating, as if intending to check my belongings, suddenly crackled.
Hans, who had at some point picked up a telescope and was looking my way, casually holding the radio.
"Understood."
…I first took a few bolts and nuts from my pocket and handed them to the soldier.
Leaving out the ones I'd stashed in my crotch, of course.
On the way back, I looked at the incompletely fixed pipe once more.
If they cranked the pressure high, the pipe itself would definitely come apart.
Even just casually turning the nuts with my hand as I passed by would be enough to set things off.
All that remained was creating an escape route.
But…
Hans, grinning as he looked at me.
The question was whether I even needed to deal with that guy.