William Dietrich - Ice Reich

"Yet he judges us." Hart saw Goring's hand stray toward the button that would release his model warplanes.

"We serve at his pleasure. It's different here in Germany, Owen. We're a society with a purpose, but to have such purpose you can't rely on the mob: it must be directed by a few great men."

"I don't think the American voter thinks of himself as a mob."

She shrugged. "Still, someone must be in charge."

Just then there was a familiar rattle and a Stuka swooped down, its rigid wheels like the talons of a raptor. Hearing the noise, Drexler calmly reached across the control panel and threw a switch. "I've watched you at the controls, Reich Minister," he explained. His train shunted onto a new line just as Goring released his bomb. The pellet landed squarely on the newly emptied track and Drexler's train rumbled calmly past the impact point.

"Ach! Touche, Jurgen!" Goring exclaimed. "I'm outwitted!" The political liaison's train accelerated. "And on you go to your destination!" He laughed.

With the Reich Minister's good humor the others laughed too. Drexler nodded in acknowledgment and stole a glance at Greta. She replied with an encouraging smile. Owen found himself irked by the demonstration.

"Do you consider yourself a man of strong opinions, Owen?" she whispered, still watching Drexler.

He looked at her curiously, wondering if he'd become a toy in some game he didn't understand. "I… am adaptable, I guess."

She nodded knowingly. "That's obvious."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you're here. In Germany. With us."

"No," said Hart, shaking his head. "You don't understand. I'm not with you, not against you. I'm simply on my way to Antarctica. Where politics don't apply."

"Ah! Wait until you get on the Schwabenland. A confined society, a long voyage. Humans wear politics as tightly as their skin." She was teasing him.

"Is that why Jurgen is necessary?"

She shrugged, watching the blond German as he stole a glance at them again. "Jurgen reminds us why we're here. He sees things clearly."

Drexler brought his train into the station. "I was admittedly fortunate that your attack coincided with the availability of a siding," he told the Reich Minister. "But there is a lesson here, no? A lesson for us in Antarctica, perhaps. If one way doesn't serve, another may suffice."

"Indeed, your twist has demonstrated the endless complications of war," Goring agreed. "Which is why battle is not as simple as it appears in the history books. Well. My Luftwaffe is out of bombs. Perhaps we should adjourn for dinner?"

There was no disagreement.

Greta moved off to congratulate Drexler. Over her head, he nodded at Hart.

The group filed down the stairs to a baronial dining room with timbered ceiling and glittering candles, more suits of armor posted in the shadows like hovering waiters. Two more lovely women- one a model, another an aspiring starlet, Hart gathered- joined the group. Goring took his place at the head of the table with the two actresses at either side and the model at the foot, facing him. There otherwise didn't seem to be assigned seating. Greta moved toward a chair and Drexler quickly moved forward to touch the back of an adjacent one as if asserting the spoils of victory. But at the last moment she unbalanced things by slipping sideways around Feder- "Alfred, I'd like to map out a sampling calendar based on your expected arrival and departure dates," she murmured- and swiftly plopped down between the geographer and Hart, giving the American pilot a quick smile. Owen sensed someone else looking at him. It was Kohl across the table, frowning and giving a barely perceptible shake of his head.

"And Owen," Greta said, turning away from Feder. "I'd like to learn more from you about America!"

"Well," Hart said, surprised by her continuing attention, "America is a bit what I suspect you to be: energetic and adventuresome."

"Ah. And unsettled?"

"You're describing yourself?"

"Perhaps."

"Hmm. Well, the frontier has closed. But the nation is uncompleted. America is an experiment, still playing itself out."

"Then perhaps that is me," she said, smiling.

Course followed course, Goring commenting on the food like a gourmand as he explained its origins or spicing or preparation. Given his girth and enthusiasms, it seemed almost appropriate when he finally turned the conversation back to whales.

"The most astonishing creatures," the Reich Minister said. "I believe the Creator placed them here as much for the nourishment of the soul as for the nourishment of industry. Of course, it is the latter that preoccupies me at the moment. To a strong nation the whale is as important as steel."

"Important for what?" Hart dared, genuinely curious. While he knew whaling continued in the world, he'd always thought it belonged more to a bygone era of sailing ships and Moby Dick.

"Fat, of course," the Reich Minister said, winking and patting his own stomach in self-deprecation. The others laughed again. "For margarine. And oil. Not for lighting anymore, no, we're no longer harpooning to read by. For munitions, Hart. Whale fat is a valuable ingredient of glycerin. And sperm oil is preferred for precision machinery such as fighter plane engines. The whale is vital for waging modern war."

"So this expedition isn't just for scientific purposes?" Hart asked.

"Science and national destiny are inextricably linked in the modern world," answered Heiden, making a rare contribution to the conversation.

"Well said, Captain!" exclaimed Goring. "Knowledge is power!"

"Knowledge is also progress," added Greta. "After all, what ultimately sets us apart from the whales is what we know."

"But this is a peaceful expedition?" persisted Hart, despite a frown of disapproval from Kohl.

Goring grew serious. "Life is competition, Hart," he said. "I don't draw the distinction between peace and war that the naive do."

"I think Owen's real question is whether the Schwabenland is a warship," said Kohl, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground.

"No, of course not! Do you think we'd enlist an American in our navy? Your mere presence underlines Germany's peaceful intentions. No, no, no. We sail for knowledge, but knowledge with purpose: to explore Antarctica and to establish our rights."

"We stake our claim in peace," Heiden said.

"Exactly," the Reich Minister said. "And if the Norwegians get in our way, our spirits are prepared for war!"

The Schwabenland looked like an unpacked steamer trunk, its holds popped open and Antarctic supplies strewn on the Hamburg docks. Crates, canvas bags, tanks, tubes, and coils of rope and wire were heaped as if in anticipation of Christmas. Wooden skis were bundled like firewood, tents came wrapped in their own ropes and pegs, and cargo sleds machined in Bavaria were precisely lined on the creosote dock timbers as if on military parade. Pallets of canned food shone dully under the gray German sky, freshly filled and without rust. There were ice axes, crampons, fur parkas, boots, nets, carboys, buoys, snow shovels, backpacks, camp stoves, a case of Scotch whiskey, and a box of Spanish oranges. Be prepared, Hart quoted to himself.

Perched on the vessel's stern were two twin-engined Dornier Wal seaplanes, mounted to catapults that stretched for one hundred and forty feet along its deck. "So these are the birds," the pilot whispered to himself. The flying boats were big: sixty feet long with a ninety-foot wingspan. Struts held the wing and engine housing above a narrow, boatlike fuselage that nested on enormous floats. On the tail was a swastika. The Wals looked a bit ungainly but Hart knew they were famous for dependability and endurance.

The Schwabenland itself was a seaplane tender of workmanlike appearance, the point of its bow descending vertically into the water and its rounded stern overhanging a huge rudder. Two cargo masts were busily employed swinging cargo aboard. There was a low bridge superstructure, a mid-deck with a single towering smokestack and lifeboats, and then a long stern deck dominated by the catapults. The ship looked twice the length of the tender Farnsworth had taken to the Antarctic. The Germans seemed to be sparing no expense.