Chapter 18. The Vril
Richard Rabinovics collapses in a deep sleep for a whopping three hundred seconds interval. Enough time for Rebecca and Albert to thank each other, exchange wishes and other pleasantries and say good bye…
“So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye”
“Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye”
Contemplating the silence, she kicks some slag. Turns around, swings the foot to kick again then… “Ouch. Hope I didn’t break my toe. Where’s the slag gone?”
The ground is now solid and coarse. Not a single pellet. If there is a pattern to it then the closest thing coming to Rebecca’s mind are the scales of a reptile. Five feet wide scales.
The mellow mist bleeds of intense bright red. “Looks like it’s raining with blood. Oh my God.”
“Your Jewish God can’t help you here, little whore.”
“Who is this?”
“SS Obergruppenführer Hans Kammler. And you are?”
“Hm, thought that you know who I am. You called me little whore.”
“Because you are naked and whores are naked. They have no shame. You seem to have no shame.”
“Your uniform has a stain. Here. Look for yourself, Herr Obergruppenführer. Isn’t that a shame? Wearing such a neat uniform, tainted. Ah, your belt is a bit loose. You should be ashamed too.”
“Name and rank, please.”
“Katona Tünde, Captain, Royal Hungarian Air Force.”
“Ah so! Fresh Magyar pussy. What a pleasant surprise. How did you get here?”
“To the Vril.”
“Oh, is this the Vril? Really? Incredible.”
“I have asked you a question.”
“I was in Salzburg. In a salt mine. Having fun with some troopers. A bright blue flash came out of nowhere. All I know is that the next moment I heard you call me little whore.”
“What do you know about the Vril?”
“The Power of the Coming Race. I’ve read the book. Interesting book. And now you’re telling me that somehow, I don’t understand how, I miraculously arrived between its covers? This is more than amazing. For me to walk and live and breathe the story of the Vril. Never considered this energy to be the ultimate thing, überragend.”
“Are you a spy?”
“Am I? You tell me.”
“Are you a Jewess?”
“Am I? You tell me.”
“Your last day on the face of the Earth. Place, date and time!”
“Salzburg, 1945 June 15, twenty to two o’clock in the morning.”
“Surprising. I doubt that the Reich resisted that much.”
“It didn’t. German forces in Bavaria surrendered at 14:30 on 4 May 1945. General Hermann Foertsch surrendered all forces between the Bohemian mountains and the Upper Inn river to the American General Jacob L. Devers, commander of the American 6th Army Group. Days later, the war was over.”
“You said that you were entertaining some troopers.”
“Yes. I did.”
“They belonged to what Army?”
“The American 6th Army Group.”
“You are a little whore. And a traitor.”
“Na gut. This is enough. Time for you to shut your filthy mouth up. And open that wooden mind out wide so you may listen and see. You moronic Germans! You’ve already costed us two wars and three quarters of our kingdom. We’ve lost Transylvania twice because of you, infatuate Germans. Now our entire country is infested with Bolsheviks, because of you, inept Germans! You’re only good at building amazing machines and at losing wars. Italians have, at least, a much prized quality. Let me see your dick.”
Herr Obergruppenführer is caught off guard. Rebecca—aka Tünde—takes the loosened belt in her hand. As she rolls it around her fist, she orders Hans to step out of his trousers, and underwear. Silent, he begins to unbutton.
“Halt. The tunic stays!”
“Love your Hungarian accent, my Mistress.”
“Shut up. Did I give you permission to speak?”
“No, Mistress.” Slap! The buckle hits his buttocks. “Speak only when asked.” Slap! The next hit reddens his skin.
“Meine Ehre Heisst Treue! This is what I can read on your butt cheeks. Repeat after me!”
“Loyalty is my honour!” Mumbles the kneeling sex slave.
“Louder! I can’t hear you. Louder! Shout it!”
“Meine Ehre Heisst Treue!”
Slap! “Do you like it?” Slap! Slap! Slap! “Answer me, slave?”
“I like it, my Mistress.” Slap! Slap! Slap! “Don’t stop!”
Ten minutes later. “My arm hurts. I’ve got tired of slapping you. Do you want me to continue?”
“Jawohl, my Mistress.”
“Good. Let’s take a break. Maybe next time. Do you have a cigarette?”
“Come, stand up.” Hans reaches for the inside pocket of his tunic.
“Lucky Strike. White package. The new release.” Comments Rebecca with an air of satisfaction and surprise. “And you call me a traitor, eh?”
“I am here on behalf of the US government.”
“You don’t say! Why should I believe you?”
“Hitler has lost the war. I am sorry for your country. As I am for mine. But this is the reality and we cannot allow an Aggregat, such as Die Glocke, to fall in the hands of the Bolsheviks.”
“Agreed. What is your mission. Tell me.”
“I am not allowed.”
“I allow you. Tell me!”
“It is classified information. What would you do to me. Beat me? I enjoy that.”
“Are you alone here?”
“Classif… The hell with it. Since you are already walking the same subterranean world of the Vril-ya, like I do, I consider that you are entitled to know. I am here with Helga von Bülow (destination clearer) and Erwin Schrödder (transdimensional jump engineer) – the only members of my crew.”
“Where is Die Glocke?”
“You’re asking too many questions for a little whore.” Slap! “Ugh, Mistress. But let’s put our games aside. What are you doing here?”
“Rear Admiral Richard Evelyn Byrd, Jr. sent me in this secret mission. In preparation of Operation Highjump, I must establish contact with you and the Vril-ya. We need to reassure the subterraneans that the US Navy comes in peace, with no hostile intentions and…”
“…And the German expeditionary force in Antarktis must pledge allegiance to the US government. I understand.”
“Good. Now let’s move.”
“To Die Glocke?”
“Not now. First I need to meet the Vril-ya, their representatives.”
Hesitating, Hans pulls up his trousers, asks for the buckle in all politeness, and gets ready for the run. “Follow me.” He literally vanishes out of Rebecca’s sight. “Follow me!” Yells Hans again, from a hundred meters afar.
“Grasshoppers, eh? Let me try this.” Hop! Hop! Hop!
“Why didn’t you… …reat leaps… …ained by…”
“I can’t jump in sync with you, asshole. It’s the Doppler effect. Can’t hear you!”
“…ear me? …w… …n’t matte…”
On the other (inner) side of the Moon, Hans stops. A hop behind Rebecca, who didn’t hear his command to stop.
“Tünde! Tünde! Come back. We arrived.”
Four hops and a half back. “Mein Gott, what an athletic man you are, Hans.”
“It is the low gravity. The deeper you descend inside our planet, the lesser the force of gravity. Plus, we are subject to centrifugal and centripetal forces. This new environment allows us to jump over long distances. A brave new world of the Vril!”
“Where are the natives?”
“See that blue pond there?” Hans points uphill.
“You must call her name aloud.”
“Tyche,” whispers the athletic German dude.
“Why do you whisper?”
“Because I’m not supposed to call her. You are.”
“Oh, okay then. Tyche! Ty-chee-e!!”
“Mann, you’re noisy.” Rants Hans, probably expecting for a slap. Which never came across his face.
“Who are you to awaken me?” Reverberates a stern female voice above the rippling waters.
“I am who I am. Show your face, Tyche!” Hearing the nerve in Rebecca’s voice, Hans gets cold feet. Hop. Hop. Hop…
A thirty-four meters tall goddess, or demoness, detaches out of the mercury-like pond. Confused, the monster woman tries to stare Rebecca in the eyes. With no great success. “You are who you are. So you say.”
“So I say.”
“What do you wish from me?”
“You tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
“About me. That I am who I am.”
“Go back now. And tell him.”
“I will.” The apathetic goddess melts away, back into her pond.
Rebecca looks back to see how far Hans has hopped. For his own safety. Far enough, she concludes.
“Papa! Papa! Get me out of here. Now please!”
Red vapor and blue quicksilver are washed out by the yellow mist and a small avalanche of slag.
“Whoops! I’m slipping downhill. What is going on, Papa?!”
“Hopping a lot at level 11 seems to induce a bit of slippage at level 121. But you should be fine. Now tell me what have you found out.”
“No big deal. The Nazis are as gullible as ever. They think that they are inside the Earth, or perhaps between the covers of a book. Never mind about them.”
“How about your mission?”
“I’ve sent a message. Now I must say goodbye to you as well. I love you, Papa!”
“Love you too. Where are you going?”
“The far side of the Moon!”