“And the success of this mission depends on the judgment and actions of the U-Boat commander. KptLt Prien, without your cooperation the entire operation will collapse, in which case the occupation of England is impossible, and Germany’s future is bleak.”
“I never said you wouldn’t have my cooperation. I’m saying if you want it, tell me what I need to know. What is this tube I’m standing in? You want U-47 towing four of these, but why should I haul something when I don’t even know what it is?”
Hörbiger thought Prien’s viewpoint was entirely justified but couldn’t risk telling him more.
“As far as the Wieges are concerned, I’ve adopted an idea proposed by the flight engineers at Peenemünde. Originally, they were to transport rockets or missiles; they’re simply containers a submarine can haul, an ultimate weapon that will allow us to bring any city within bombing range. We’re still in the planning stages there, so I borrowed a piece of it,” Hörbiger said.
“Forget the outside. The cargo’s the problem. I’ve heard the Wehrmacht are developing flying weaponry, but they haven’t completed anything yet. So what do you want to haul in these?”
“I can’t persuade you to let me share the truth once we reach the Irish sea?”
“This is a counterintelligence measure? My lips are as tight as my fist,” Prien said.
“No. I want to prevent a loss of morale. Knowing the truth will frighten the U-47 crew, and they may refuse to take part in the mission.”
“You think that little of my men? They’re brave warriors. They’ve got guts. They aren’t afraid of anything. They’ve faced death countless times.”
“But they’ve never faced anything that came walking back from death. Right?”
When Prien fell silent, Hörbiger continued.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the Luftwaffe are struggling with their raids on England. Are you aware of the reason why?”
“The Messerschmitts have shorter legs than the Japs. Can’t even fight for more than fifteen minutes.”
“Certainly a factor. But have you heard any stranger stories? The returning pilots have had some bizarre experiences, claiming they were attacked by strange monsters during bombing runs.”
Prien’s face twisted like that of a student with a failing grade.
“Mere fables. Embarrassed pilots concocting stories about gremlins to hide their own failures,” he said.
“No. Gremlins are real. England has brought alchemists into the war.”
“We’re hardly in a position to criticize. Our command is up to the same thing. The Führer decides when raids happen based on what his fortune tellers prophesize. He’s completely on board with your relative’s World Ice Theory.”
“We can gripe about my great-uncle on another occasion. Occult research isn’t the issue; actually bringing it to the battlefield is. London may be at a disadvantage, but for them to actually turn this into a magical war…”
Hörbiger’s countenance was grim, but his real feelings were quite different. He was barely suppressing a laugh.
Prien wasn’t a fan of this entire conversation. “So we’re retaliating, with our own self-described alchemist in charge?”
“Indeed. England violated the taboo first, so we need hold back no longer. That’s why Berlin chose to activate Operation G. We were right to prepare for every eventuality. I am overwhelmed with admiration for the Führer’s foresight and wit in giving us those orders.”
After a long silence, Prien spoke as the U-Boat commander.
“We have no choice but to obey orders from the Seventh U-Boat Flotilla command. But if we must do this, let us do what we can to ensure victory. There is little chance of success when we cannot trust our own comrades. I alone should know the truth at least,” he said.
At last Hörbiger said what he really felt. “I intended to do just that once we were at sea, but, if you insist, I will tell you all the details of Operation G now. What is it you wish to know?”
“The specific location of our mission.”
“The Isle of Man.”
“That’s a dependency of the British Crown, correct?”
“Exactly. That island is very important to mages. Many alchemists gather there. London must have convinced those alchemists to join the war effort. Given the nature of the island, the mages will be in charge. It’s likely the magic craft artificers will be doing their part as well.”
“Wait. I heard these people work alone. They aren’t the type to band together,” Prien said.
“You are correct. The only reason they would unite is if they were aware of our ambition.”
“So the G Program has been compromised?”
“No, the details are likely to remain a mystery. We still have a chance to strike first. Our best and only chance of landing a blow on England’s alchemists is to hit directly where they gather on the Isle of Man. We especially need to turn Castletown to ash.”
“Sounds like you’ve done your homework.”
“No need. Before the war I lived there for fifteen years, studying as an alchemist. I was disguised as a merchant.”
“Hold on one second. The Isle of Man isn’t exactly a small island. It’s at least as big as Bornholm in Denmark. How is one U-Boat going to level the place? If we’re really trying to conquer the island, we’ll need to bring many battleships and their guns.”
“We will not win with firepower, only brute strength.”
“You’ve lost me. You’re planning a surprise attack from the air? Or do you expect my crew to suddenly play army?”
“No, we have infantry ready. These Wieges are underwater containers that will transport them.”
They were both silent for several seconds, then Prien shrugged.
“No time for jokes in war. How many can you fit in these tiny tubes? At best, twenty? Four tubes, so that makes eighty men? Not even enough to scout the place.”
Hörbiger’s poker face never wavered.
“We will bring only fifteen soldiers, but every one is a special ops soldier who has overcome death. We shall also bring my darling children, only just born. I have waited years for this. My own flesh and blood. I guarantee they’ll slaughter their objective: the true force controlling these gremlins. If we can but eliminate one woman—she who rejected me in every imaginable way—the threat will disappear. If we win the war of magic, England’s occupation will be achievable, and my own desires will vanish with time…”
Oberleutnant Hörbiger fixed the other man with a steely gaze.
“KptLt Prien, science’s ascendancy over magic is right around the corner. I wish to carve my name into history as the last alchemist before science becomes so advanced that the difference between it and magic is impossible to perceive.”
3
My orders were to fly right to the Isle of Man, but it took a full seven hours to arrive, and I hadn’t been dawdling. Rather, I’d endured a series of trials and tribulations, and had used all the wisdom, courage, and gumption I possessed to overcome them.
The distance from Southampton to the Isle of Man is 420 kilometers as the bird flies. But rather than flying directly across the Irish Sea, I decided I was better off flying up the west coast of England to St. Bees Head and making my crossing there. It added one hundred kilometers to the overall journey but proved to be worth it. One impasse after another filled my path.
In Birmingham, I was caught in an unexpected bombing raid. High-speed bombers—Heinkel He 111s—chased me, and I lost half the feathers on my left wing. In Manchester, I took shelter in a large cathedral to rest my wings, only to be shot at by anti-aircraft fire. I’d like to believe this was an error, but perhaps the enemy knew my true nature and deliberately tried to kill me. In times of war, people naturally want to eliminate those who fall between the category of friend and foe.
The worst was the Cambrian Mountains. Desperately hungry, I’d landed and was eating a wild rat when a gang of local magpies beat the hell out of me. Just as in the Kirishima Mountains, I discovered that outsiders were forever unwelcome.
At last, I fluttered free of my pursuers and began my flight across the Irish Sea. It was a fifty-kilometer journey before I could reach the Isle of Man, but, with my wing’s injuries, that distance seemed foolhardy.
Was there a boat around? As the years passed, I’d grown twice as heavy as the average barn owl, so driftwood may well sink under me if I tried to float. I was much better off resting my wings on a passenger ship.
Prior experience suggested I would be welcomed. In Japan, the word for “owl” (“fukurou”) sounded exactly like words meaning “no hardship” or “bringer of good fortune.” An owl on a ship was seen as good luck.
In Europe, some fools saw us as quite the opposite of luck, but there were also those who treated us as symbols of wisdom. Sailors tended to be particularly superstitious, so if a bird they regarded as auspicious landed aboard, they’d often feed that bird. Turning my eyes into saucers—rather, like radar dishes searching for an enemy fleet—I scanned the ocean and located a gray object on the horizon.
A long ship with four smokestacks, it was clearly no merchant vessel. A number of single-mounted guns stood on deck, and the White Ensign flew at the stern. From the mast hung a flag with three legs arranged like a shuriken, a symbolic image used on the Isle of Man since ancient times. I was relieved; my season of horrors was over. This must be the protected cruiser Commander G had ordered me to find.
England possessed a great number of colonies abroad, and protecting them required a great number of ships with substantial range. Trying to balance cost versus ease of use had resulted in these protected cruisers. However, their heyday had been forty years ago. The more modern light cruisers were in fashion these days, and most protected cruisers had been scrapped. This ship I’d found was clearly an exception.
As I descended toward it, I became certain this was the right ship. As a familiar, I had a heightened sense of smell, and, right now, my senses warned me that this ship possessed an unusual level of spiritual energy.
The scent of magic was overpowering, drawing me like a moth to a flame. Acutely conscious of my injured wing, I descended. Firmly gripping the rear mast with my talons, I took a long look below.