William Dietrich - Ice Reich

She looked amused. "If you've truly been to Antarctica you know as well as I do that there are no bears there. Penguins, of course. And seals. But I'm primarily interested in krill."

The pilot nodded politely. "Those little shrimp things? We saw clouds of them in the ocean back in '34."

"Whale food, Hart! Whale food!" Goring boomed. "The key to scientific management of Antarctic whaling. One of many keys to Germany's bright future."

"Then this mission may indeed have significance for our whaling industry, Reich Minister?" Kohl inquired, with the tone of one who already knew the answer.

"What whaling industry, Otto?" Goring growled. "The damned Norwegians have a near-monopoly down there. They've laid a territorial claim and tried to chase others out. Well, two can play that game. This expedition will lay its own claim and with it the justification for expansion of the German whaling effort. Whale fat and oils are vital to sustaining our expanding economy. And the greatest whales in the world are to be found in that region."

"So," Hart said, turning back to Greta. "You'll be taking a census of this whale food?" He was intrigued by her. He'd never heard of a woman going to Antarctica.

"That and more," she replied. "I'm interested in the relationship between the world of the great- the whale, for example- and the small. The latter is my field of expertise: plankton, protozoa, bacteria, viruses…"

"Germs," Hart said with a grin.

"Yes, germs. You might not think so, but they reside in Antarctica too. They're capable of adapting to every condition, including cold. It is this adaptability of life that interests me."

Drexler piped up. "Greta is a woman who can look in a microscope and see a universe. We're lucky to have her." Greta smiled to acknowledge the compliment.

A bit obvious, Hart thought. He wondered what their relationship was.

"Hermann," Leni said, "Mr. Hart expressed interest in your trains."

"Really?" Goring said, his mood clearly jovial. "Are you a railroad enthusiast as well as an aeronaut?"

"Uhm, well, I like trains." He glanced at Kohl, who nodded approvingly. Drexler looked at Hart with amusement.

"Ha! I tell my staff it's an organizational exercise," Goring said, smiling. "Designing the tracks, scheduling the trains: not so different from running a nation. But secretly, Hart, I'm convinced we men remain boys, relishing our toys. We leave it to women to be the grown-ups in the house while we play in the outside world. It's one of the reasons I'm so happy that I'm a man- if you can forgive that, Miss Heinz!" Again, the group joined in his laughter.

"And why I'm happy to be a woman."

Goring bowed.

Puffing a bit, the Reich Minister led his entourage up a winding balustrade toward the attic. As they began to ascend Hart found himself just behind and to the right of Greta. Still curious about her, he tried to think of something to say but Drexler smoothly moved in front of him and slipped beside her, forcing the pilot to pause a moment on the stairs to avoid a collision. The tips of the German's fingers brushed her elbow as if to guide her and he whispered a comment. She raised her wineglass to her lips as they climbed, moving her arm slightly out of reach, but she also granted him a look and smile. Hart fell back.

The party went through an arched wooden door and filed into a dim, cavernous room. When all were present Goring flicked on the lights. Under the eves sprawled an enormous track set with model trains lined up on sidings. The set was the biggest Hart had ever seen: scale-model miles of track and a score of locomotives. Curiously, scenery was absent as if irrelevant to Goring's vision; the layout did indeed resemble some kind of enormous organizational chart in its abstract complexity. Hart was struck by its sterility. There were no miniature people in it.

"Oh Hermann, let me operate one of the trains!" Leni begged. Goring chuckled at her interest.

"And Mr. Hart, you must direct another!" the Reich Minister said. He showed them the controls. With a few jerks as he adjusted the speed, Hart managed to begin moving his train out of its station. The actress succeeded too. The trains traveled around a vast oval, occasionally passing each other on different tracks. It took some concentration to hold their speed at curves and pause at crossings to avoid a possible collision. The others watched politely, chatting among themselves.

"Your skill as a pilot serves you well as an engineer," said a soft voice at Hart's elbow. He glanced sideways. It was Greta.

He nodded, smiling tightly. "I was warned I might be tested, but no one talked about model trains." He nodded toward the actress at the other end of the control box. "Herr Goring does have an enthusiasm for toys, it seems."

Greta shrugged. "She's just for show. Did you know that the Reich Minister took a bullet at the Putsch?"

"Causes him a great deal of pain, apparently."

"In many ways. It was in the groin. Direct your jokes and sympathies accordingly." She smiled mischievously.

Suddenly Goring's voice boomed. "Now, Hart, you must observe airpower in action! Your direction is impressive but what if you're caught in an extremity? How does one keep the system functioning?" He paused dramatically, then pushed a button.

There was a rattle and something swooped down from the shadowy eves above. Hart thought for a moment it was a swallow. Then he saw it was a model of a German Stuka dive-bomber, gliding down across the train as it dangled from a sloping wire. Goring stabbed another button and a pellet fell from its belly, arcing in with expert aim to bounce off one of Hart's boxcars. "A direct hit!" Goring exclaimed. "In combat your train would be cut in two." He laughed. "The next war will be decided in the air."

There was another rattle and a second model airplane flew jerkily down and released again, this time striking Leni's train. "Oh pooh, Hermann!" she exclaimed. "You're such a bully!"

Goring's eyes were already on Hart's train again as it rounded a curve. A third airplane rode its wire down from the gloom, aimed for Hart's engine. The pilot considered a moment, then tightened his hold on the electric throttle. When the pellet fell, he slammed his train to a halt. The bomb bounced harmlessly across the track ahead.

"Flying by wire is too predictable," Hart said.

Goring smiled, but a bit less broadly. "Very true. A quick reaction, Mr. Hart. Unpredictability is the first lesson of war." He emphasized this last, as if he'd sought to make that point to the others. "But I would still have cut the track."

"No matter." The pilot threw his train into reverse. "As a man of prudence, I'd be backing out of that war zone as fast as possible." The group laughed, Greta clapping her hands once in applause.

"And yet there might be an even better strategy." It was Jurgen Drexler, catching the woman's eye. "If you would allow me to take a turn at the controls, Owen?"

"Certainly." The American surrendered the throttle and backed away. The trains began moving around the oval again.

Greta was watching the German with interest and Hart searched for something to continue their conversation. "I understand the Reich Minister is the most popular of Germany's leaders," he finally tried.

She kept her gaze on the railroad, speaking quietly so as not to be overheard. "He's a brave man, I think. But he's had much trauma in his life. Years of exile and poverty, a virtual political outlaw. The loss of his first wife. The wound. It explains perhaps the morphine, the weight, the clothes."

"He certainly likes to dress up."

Greta lowered her voice even further. "We Germans joke about it. The story goes that Goring's Forestry Ministry was going to harvest the Tiergarten to build him an adequate-sized wardrobe. But the chief forester had to report back that the trees were gone already, they'd all been sawed into his coat hangers! We don't laugh at him, we laugh with him, because we can identify with his appetites. Or at least we try not to judge."