\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1667153-PARADOX---Chapter-48
Item Icon
Rated: 13+ · Novel · Action/Adventure · #1667153
Action/Adventure - A genre mix like National Treasure and Indiana Jones
Chapter 48

May 9, 2012 – New Berlin Base – Antarctica




Hans offered his arm to Daria in a gentlemanly fashion, his eyebrows raised and a disarming smile covered his handsome face. “It’s time to introduce you to our leader.”

He escorted her from the small craft into what appeared to be a docking bay. It was a vast area, obviously underground or at least undercover. Several small flying craft, or Fliegenkämpfer, as Hans called them, were parked side by side on the cement tarmac. Technicians swarmed around them and unusual ground vehicles buzzed back and forth like plump beetles. The people she saw wore the same type of uniform as Hans, with the exception of several donned in a uniform cut similar to Marta’s.

They entered a door leading off the busy tarmac and headed down a well-lit hallway. Attractive signs of happy working people were tastefully arranged along the corridor and the flooring was covered in a noise dampening material so their footsteps did not produce harsh sounds.

They passed through several more doors and were suddenly surrounded by scores of people, all in uniform and heading in various directions. Daria noticed that all of them were taller than average, most had blond or light brown hair and blue eyes, and all were smiling and nodding as she and Hans strode down a massive corridor. Further on down the corridor and walkways, women and children began to appear. They also wore uniforms, of varying patterns and colors, but all displayed what appeared to be genuine smiles on their faces. Everyone seemed happy and some even bowed or curtsied to her as she passed.

They finally entered through an official looking door with two military sentries stationed as guards. They wore black uniforms, shining boots that came almost up to their knees, immaculate web gear, and helmets that resembled the modern American kevlar helmet but with a distinctive difference. They resembled a modern version of the old Nazi SS. Each carried a futuristic assault rifle on a sling hung over their shoulders. They came to rigid attention and saluted as Hans and Daria approached.

As they entered a large chamber, dozens of soldiers in various uniforms stood and bowed. Hans patted her hand reassuringly and continued to walk to the end of the huge room where several men stood with their backs turned away looking down at huge conference table.

As soon as the men noticed their approach, each straightened up from their crouching position and bowed, all except one man who continued to gaze down at the table. Hans halted about ten feet from the lone man, removed his hand from Daria’s, and came to the position of attention. “I present Fraulein Wolff, mein Führer!” he said in a commanding voice.

As soon as the man turned around, Hans saluted him with the old Nazi salute. Daria took one glance at the figure and fainted.

She awoke in a white room that appeared to be a sterile medical environment. An elderly man wearing a white lab coat was bending over her. Apparently, he was a doctor and his kind face and eyes exuded empathy and friendliness. He smiled as she sat up on the bed or whatever it was they had placed her on.

“Sleeping Beauty awakes,” he said with a jovial and spacious grin. “How do you feel fraulein?”

Daria was still shaken from the mind numbing experience. She wasn’t certain if it was fact or a nightmare. She looked emploringly at the kindly physician.

“What you have seen is fact.” The physician answered her puzzled look and handed her a cool glass of water.

“Adolph Hitler?” she blurted.

The man reached for her hand but she quickly pulled it away. “Yes. The person you saw is Adolph Hitler.”

Daria shook her head in disbelief. “Hitler would be one hundred thirteen years old if he was alive. The man I saw looked exactly like the Adolph Hitler of 1945, a fifty six year old man.” She took a drink of the cool water and waited for the doctor to explain the mystery.

“By now, if not suspicious, you are aware that certain leaders, scientists, and other highly placed party members escaped after World War II. Your grandparents were among them. What is not commonly known is that thousands of patriotic Germans also escaped and joined us here to carve out a new homeland and government. It is also a well known fact that German scientists were far in advance of the Allies on many scientific fronts, not just military technology.”

He halted to get Daria another glass of water. “Your grandfather, Adolph Hitler, was not a well man. The stress of invasion had, shall we say, affected his thinking.”

“He was nuts,” Daria interrupted. “Crazy as a bed bug and a mass murderer.”

“Be that as it may, he continued to function as our leader. In 1957, two years before his death, our scientist successfully cloned him. As I noted, we were far ahead of the rest of the world in scientific technology, which correspondingly included medical breakthroughs. The man you met today is Adolph Hitler in every conceivable way, except, he is not the original.”

“A clone?” Daria could not grasp the thought that anyone would dare clone one of history’s most notorious criminals. “That still doesn’t change the fact that Frankenstein out there is still a mad man, a criminal, a…” She couldn’t think of an appropriate word to use.

“I beg to differ, fraulein. When we cloned the Führer we knew of his medical propensity for mental instability. Consequently, we eleminated that particular genetic trait from the new Führer, and his successor. He is as sane and as functional as you and I.”

Daria still could not align the facts in her mind. “Successor. What do you mean, successor?”

“The one year old successor to the Führer was successfully cloned and is being groomed to take his place when the inevitable happens.”

“You mean you have another one of those monsters primed and ready to go?”

The doctor dropped his smile and put on a disproving frown. “Neither are monsters and neither are murderers or criminals. The succesor to your grandfather is a kind, benevolent, considerate and incredible leader. He has the best interest of the German people on his mind and in his heart at all times. He was groomed from birth to know everything Adolph Hitler knew, his life, his dreams, his failures, and even his mistakes. We could not transfer the memories of your grandfather, and we were content that it did not happen. He does not possess the degenerative mental illness that twisted your grandfathers thinking.”

History taught Daria a different lesson, an ugly lesson steeped in Nazi atrocities, the holacaust, millions of innocent lives, and barbarism. She wasn’t prepared to throw those memories away and embrace a new Nazi concept of benevolence.

“What of my grandmother and my mother?” She asked, afraid to hear the doctor say that both their clones were doing well and prancing around this hidden base.

“I would prefer that your grandfather talk of these subjects,” The doctor smiled again. “But I have been asked to allay your fears. Your grandmother, Eva, died one year after your grandfather, in 1960. Your beautiful mother died giving birth to you. Eva’s wish was for you to be raised in the Fatherland so you were sent to live with your grand aunt’s, Frau Wolff’s family. Neither of them wanted to be cloned due to their religious beliefs.”

There was still something missing, one small detail that she needed to clear up. “Did I have a father?”

The doctor glanced down at the floor then back at Daria. “No man was good enough for your mother, Klara. Your grandfather believed she was the perfect Aryan woman. A dozen of the most perfect Aryan male specimens to accompany the Führer to New Berlin were selected based on family history and an extensive battery of tests. None of them were good enough. Several years later, Aeric Eichel Dietrich, a highly decorated Fallschirmjager, paratrooper, made his way to your grandfather’s villa. He was captured by the Russians and taken to Buchenwald Concentration Camp. He was one of the few to ever escape. Your grandfather became enchanted with him. He finally won the hand of your mother, even though he was much older by then. The only error he ever committed was that he had a son while on a mission to France. He was unfortunately lost at sea just before you were born.”

“So, I’m the product of a Nazi stormtrooper,” Daria smirked. “The perfect Aryan baby. And, I have a half brother somewhere?”

“You are a beautiful, intelligent, and free spirited young lady. You are also the only immediate member of the Hitler family left. There are distant relatives living in Germany and in the United States, but we do not concern ourselves with them. You also have an obligation to fulfill and an important role in New Berlin society.”

“I did not ask for it, nor do I want to play a role in your society.”

“Unfortunately fraulein, the choice is not yours to make. The people of New Germany adore your grandfather and consequently his family. In their eyes you are a national icon, a member of the royal family and the key to their future prosperity. The key to their very existence.”

“Royalty? I thought Germans gave up that antiquated concept long ago?

“The old Germany did. However, we discovered that we need a royal figurehead to maintain morale, to give us a sense of direction, to display our pride, to lead us.”

“I assume, like the royalty of old, I must bow to the dictates of the supreme poo-bah!”

“You will find that we are a very modern society with high moral and ethical values. Our sole interest is survival.”

Daria stood and looked around her at the clinical atmosphere. The room looked no different than other hospital clinics she had visited. She had no interest in belonging to a society she did not even know existed. She also knew that unless she pretended to cooperate and gain a degree of personal freedom, her chances of escaping this royal prison were nill. She knew that Monday was searching for her and her heart told her that he would succeed. But, he did not know the terrible odds he faced.

“Do you know anything about my half brother?” Daria finally asked.

“He is an insignificant Frenchman who goes by the name of Jean Marcel Dorbec.”

Daria’s jaw dropped.

© Copyright 2010 Oldwarrior (oldwarrior at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1667153-PARADOX---Chapter-48