Berlin Lebensborn Centre
December RY151
Given my necessity to find methods of procreation other than the natural ones open to my brother, to acquire myself allies of the Blood, the opportunity offered by Robert's near-demise in the ICJ courtroom was too good to pass up. Perhaps, in retrospect - and given how damnably efficient General Graham is - I was being optimistic in believing that my brother would never find out what I had done. However, my confidence was based on the fact that, to my knowledge, he has remained blissfully unaware of Andrew's genetic contribution to my cause for eighty years, and was not, I feel, completely misplaced.
Of course, the creation of children by non-natural means isn't the easiest task, but with the assistance of the delightful Annifrid, who agreed to be the mother to a child as near as damn-it my son as it is possible to be, a suitable vessel was found and the boy came into being. I made sure that she was in a place of safety while she carried him, and was present when Alban was born, after a relatively trouble-free labour. One characteristic, however, became apparent in his first few weeks of life. He had been born a shapeshifter.
This was not a complete surprise. After all, despite the official position I encourage on the infamy of shape shifters - I feel every people needs an external focus for their dislike, lest they turn that hatred inwards, and shapeshifters seemed such a perfect choice - I am well aware that both Robert and I are skilled practitioners in the art, and Annifrid herself has the ability to a very basic degree. However, while I find it a useful skill to keep for emergencies, my lover believes the Party line that it should be eradicated from society, and therefore when she realised her son had inherited the ability from his biological father, she asked if anything could be done to remove the taint from him.
This gave me pause for thought. Theoretically, it could be done. However, the risk was that to do so would change his genetic make-up too radically for him to be of use to me as a child of the Blood, especially given the false starts I had had getting a viable embryo at all, working as I was from blood and tissue. I expressed my preference to her, that he be discouraged from using the skill as he grew older, but not have it completely removed, however it quickly became apparent that she was not happy with that as a solution. True, I could have just forced her to accept it, but loathe as I am to admit it, for all I have a reputation with ladies, I actually care for Frida a great deal, and therefore did not wish to do that. So instead I decided to take consultation with other experts in the field to see what suggestions they might have for a compromise.
The downside of this course of action, was that it meant I would need for him to be in the Fatherland, rather than secure in one of my own facilities, as I was unwilling for the locations of the latter to be discovered by others. I therefore decided on a more public location that I believed I could protect: the Berlin Lebensborn Centre. The experts I needed to consult could come and go there far more easily, and it would be less compromising to my own security.
In general, the Lebensborn Centres are among the most secure facilities in the Fatherland, as one would not want the children of those patriots who gave up their offspring for the good of the Reich to be at risk. Such would be poor repayment for their loyalty and sacrifice. Usually, the centres have their own detachments of SS personnel posted to them for physical security, and some of our best mages deal with maintaining the arcane defences. However, to be sure, I decided to improve the latter personally for the facility which would be hosting my son, confident that no-one of lesser ability than myself would be able to compromise it. It didn't even occur to me that if an attack were to be made, it would be made by the one person that distinction did not cover...my brother, himself.
I transferred Alban to Berlin when he was but a few months old. As Frida was keen to stay with her child, I made sure that she was given quarters within the Centre, so that she could be with him when she wished. For my part, I co-ordinated the efforts of the professionals I consulted, although for Alban's security as well as mine, I resisted visiting too often, as my presence there would have been the kind of anomaly that Sable agents might have noted.
After about three months they began to make progress. Dr Ilse Freigand, one of my Forstapo medical experts, made a breakthrough in finding a drug which could be used to inhibit shifting, without the shifting itself automatically clearing the contaminant from the shifter's system, if the victim were suitably unused to consciously using his or her abilities; while Xavier Jaeger, a mental expert of my acquaintance, came up with some interesting possibilities in the area of conditioning, with regard to restraining a shifter's conscious ability. Under my direction, they worked with my son, and within weeks declared themselves satisfied. He would not be able to shift unless we released the locks on him.
Frida seemed as content with that as any solution, and the final procedures were set for Christmas Eve. The agreement was that I would then pick up the child on Christmas Day, and together would be able to take him away to somewhere fast relative to the Fatherland, where he could continue his upbringing in safety and security with his parents.
How the Hell that bastard Graham knew when to hit, I do not know. Perhaps my caution in visiting was in vain, and the very presence of Annifrid herself was the mistake I made. Or perhaps, in confirmation of something I had suspected, but never proven, he has managed to place an agent in the higher echelons of my government - one who could have known of Alban's whereabouts. If the latter is true, then the agent needs finding at the first possible opportunity, and dealing with appropriately.
When I arrived at the Centre's medical facility with a group of Honour Guard at four AM on Christmas Night, with the intention of spiriting my son away with the least possible fuss and notice, I didn't realise that I was already too late. Of my escort of six, I left four outside to secure the area under command of Rikart Schultz, while I selected two to go inside with me. The two guards on the security desk inside seemed unconcerned as I approached the door, although the moment they saw me they snapped to attention with creditable speed.
"Welcome, Herr Reichsführer," said the senior of the two - a Scharführer - snapping off a salute, which I acknowledged. His companion did the same, before communicating notice of my arrival to the guard post on the second floor.
"Report?" I asked.
"All is quiet, Herr Reichsführer."
"Excellent." I turned to the men flanking me as escort - Hauptsturmführeren Hans Stuckart, and Niklaus Radulf. Radulf had been part of the Honour Guard since RY146, and was training Stuckart, who had only joined about six months before, "Shall we?"
I strode off down the corridor, towards the staircase that would take me up to my son, humming Beethoven contentedly under my breath. However, as we passed the men's bathroom, I thought I felt something out of place and stopped. My guards took up position either side of me, alert for trouble. I cast around magically for a short while, trying to work out what it was I'd spotted, but couldn't pin it down. In the end I shrugged, and continued up the corridor, although the suspicion that something was...off, for want of a better word...nagged at the back of my mind.
"Herr Reichsführer..."one of my escort began, nervously, as we entered the stairwell, "is there a problem?"
"Never mind, Hans," I answered, loathe to admit I may have been wrong, and then changed the subject to something more neutral as we climbed, "tell me, have you brought something appropriate for that pretty wife of yours for Christmas...Elise, isn't it?"
Stuckart seemed startled at the question, but then was still getting used to the fact that a) I knew his given name, and b) that I knew he was married and what his wife was called, which amused me. I always like to know those close to me, especially if they might end up having to take a bullet for me, but he answered readily enough once he got over the shock.
Then I heard something that definitely was wrong. A single curse, and the sound of a door banging shut above us. Instinctively, I knew it had been on the second floor. Stuckart and Radulf were sprinting up the stairs instantly, myself close behind. As we emerged onto the second floor, I heard an almighty crash, and saw three people running towards the window at the end of the second floor corridor. The hindmost had just used a bolt of lightning to take out the glass, and I heard a female voice cry out "You're insane!"
Insane and stupid. However, the response of the one at the back surprised me. "Better that than staying here to face Rupert's wrath."
There are remarkably few people who dare to use my given name, especially when they are on my territory. That was when I saw that he was carrying a bundle in the crook of his right arm, and knew with a horrid certainly that it was my son. In the same moment, I saw my escort levelling their weapons to open fire. Unable to risk the possibility that they would hit Alban, I instead threw a stun spell at the interlopers, rending the air above them with the intention of knocking them to the ground. The woman fell, but the men merely staggered, which surprised me mightily.
"Stay exactly where you are," I ordered them, seeing before me a man of average build with mousy brown hair, and a blond man who looked as if he belonged in the SS, and bore himself as a soldier as he regained his balance from the stun spell. They looked at each other, and quick as a flash the darker of the two tossed the bundle to the other.
"Get the Hell out of here...I'll cover for you," he snapped, in a tone that was obviously used to command, his German very slightly accented, and he deliberately moved between us and his companions.
I could feel anger building within me at being thwarted so, and began to prepare a spell that would crush the little upstart like a bug. However, as I did, I felt a build-up of power from my opponent. I considered letting my escort open fire, but there was still the risk to the child. Then the blond was grabbing the woman and hauling her to her feet, and they were sprinting for the window.
Fired by a fury which momentarily clouded my parental concern, I launched a bolt of killing energy at them, and was startled when the back-marker's shields held against it. It should have blown him to oblivion, but instead he merely stepped back slightly to absorb the momentum. Who the Hell was strong enough to stand up to me like that? I could only think of one answer, and that seemed impossible.
"Your companions cannot get away," I said, meeting his gaze as he recovered his breath from defending himself, and I heard Stuckart relaying instructions to the guards outside to intercept and kill the escapees, "they will be killed and my son will be returned to me. And you, mage, will have wasted your life trying to protect them."
"Don't be so certain, Herr Reichsführer," came his arrogant and impudent reply, as he met my gaze unflinching, something else that happened sufficiently rarely as to be noteworthy, "they are resourceful."
"Resourceful, perhaps, but also foolish," I replied, trying to buy a little time as I prepared my next surprise for him, "as are you."
I loosed a blinding light at him, targeting him directly in the face - not anything that would be blocked by his shield, as it was not, in itself, an attack - and was rewarded as he staggered back, momentarily dazzled. Radulf reacted instantly, and moved in behind him, placing the muzzle of his gun to my adversary's neck. As he moved, I triggered a dispel on the mage, so that his shield would not stop the bullets which would shortly follow.
"Good bye, mage," I said, nodding to Radulf who tightened his finger on the trigger and opened fire. But his bullets cut through thin air, as the prisoner disappeared.
Then I felt cold steel at my throat, and heard a horribly familiar voice saying quietly, in perfect public school English: "Call off the dogs, Rupert."
I froze, catching Stuckart's eye to make him do the same as he brought round his own weapon.
"You...?" I muttered, disbelieving, as I recognised it for my brother. The impossible answer had proven right after all.
"Yes, me," came his reply, "I'm sure you have as much desire as I do to spend a year regenerating. Call off the dogs."
I considered for a moment. Would he really be foolish enough to go through with it? Possibly, but he surely knew that the weapons pointing at him would open fire before my body hit the ground and he would be joining me, and I would really have expected him to be more gun-shy than that. And yet there was a look in his eyes that almost made me feel he didn't care. Then I thought of my son and cursed him for taking the child. Usually we treated each other with tolerant amicability, and kept things civilised, but taking Alban crossed a line and stirred a loathing in me which I rarely felt towards him. I turned slightly, but before I got more than a few degrees, I felt the knife break skin and I stopped dead. Discretion, at that point, became the better part of valour.
"Stuckart, Radulf, drop your weapons," I ordered. At first they looked as if they couldn't believe what they'd heard, but then they slowly complied. As they did, I gestured to Robert to indicate that I needed to use the comms crystal. He nodded, and I relayed orders to Schultz to recall his men.
"Happy?" I asked, meeting his gaze as he moved slightly, always aware of the proximity of the knife. I saw a trace of fear in his eyes as he realised just how much I hated him at that moment, but he stood his ground and my hatred was met by cold anger on his part.
"I've let you had too much of a free rein lately, brother," he said, quietly, "it's time that changed. I'm sure you appreciate that all I'm doing here is recovering that which belongs to me. What I suggest you do, is look to your lover, before she bleeds to death."
The reference to Annifrid caught me off-guard, and part of my anger gave way to concern for the mother of my child. "What have you done to her?"
"Go and look," he answered, his tone cold, emotionless
"If she's dead, you will pay for it," I snapped, in a voice that was neither.
"She was alive when we left the room," came his reply, and while I instinctively knew he was telling the truth, I also knew it wasn't the whole truth. I raised my hand to the blade he was still holding, and pushed it away from me, conceding the round.
For a moment longer, we locked eyes, and then worry for Frida got the better of me. Taking the gamble that he wouldn't stab me in the back, as that would have been a further escalation still, I turned away from him, and headed up the corridor with as much dignity as I could muster. Moments later, I heard gunfire from behind me, and shouting from Stuckart and Radulf as they snapped out of their confusion and reclaimed their weapons, but I imagined that by then Robert would be gone.
As I walked into the room where Alban had been, I saw Frida lying beside the bed, blood soaking the back of her blouse, and the hilt of a knife protruding near her kidneys - a blow meant to kill, not wound. Her sword lay on the ground under the bed, obviously having been kicked out of the way. Whichever of the bastards had done this to her had used a ritual dagger, perhaps hoping that it would make it easier to kill her, but thankfully, I knew all the relevant tricks for neutralising its influence and identifying the Lodge member who must have been murdered by Sable forces for it to be in their hands. The question of who could have wielded it against Frida was one that would have to wait, although I was pretty sure it wouldn't have been my goody-goody elder brother, as he would never use a weapon dedicate to my Lodge.
I crossed to Frida in two strides and knelt down to see if she still lived. Thankfully, she was breathing fitfully, although as Robert had implied, she had lost a lot of blood. Still, without the conscious restraint she put on it, her shifting ability had prevented her dying with the first stroke. I rolled up my sleeves to set to work. I placed my right hand over the wound, the blade between my second and third fingers, and then removed the dagger. I pulled sharply and cleanly, calling on my own little-used ability to shift others to make sure that the damage I did didn't kill her. For a moment the blood gushed, but I quickly imposed my will on it, augmenting her own limited shape shifting, and both the internal and external wounds began to close. I concentrated further and after a few moments my confidence increased that the wounds were stable.
Then I heard a gasp from behind me, and my concentration broke. I looked up quickly, to see Stuckart looking at me in horrified fascination. I can't have been a pleasant sight, with gore half way up my forearms, and kneeling in an expanding blood pool, but I suspected that that wasn't what had surprised him.
"You have a problem, Hauptsturmführer Stuckart?" I asked, meeting his gaze, and he quailed. His terror was almost palpable, as he realised what he had seen me doing, let alone witnessing the encounter in the corridor which I had undeniably lost, and I could almost see his thoughts as he tried to work out if I was going to kill him there and then. Sometimes the fear my reputation generates can be a little inconvenient: Stuckart was a good man, and I had no intention of killing either him or Radulf, unless they told anyone what had happened. Of course, I would need to guarantee their silence...
Relatively certain that Frida's condition wasn't going to worsen, I got to my feet, still regarding him intently.
"N...no problem, Herr Reichsführer," he stammered.
"You're a bad liar, Hans," I said, quietly, detecting a note of tiredness in my voice which I quickly tried to banish.
"I...I don't understand. How can..."
"How can I be a shape shifter?" I asked, and with a gulp he nodded, "in much the same way that anyone else can. I was born with it."
"But..."
"But what? Don't you see how convenient a tool it is in finding the enemies within?" I asked, extending my will into his, to persuade him of the truth of my argument.
"Yes..." he answered, uncertainty in his tone at first, but more confident as I reinforced the idea. "Yes."
"Then I'm sure you will appreciate that this should remain between ourselves, or its usefulness will be compromised," I said, blending that idea into the first, and finally he nodded. It would do for now - I could make a proper job of it later, "now, kindly find me a doctor to look at Ms. Ragnarsian."
He snapped a salute, and headed out of the door, calling to Radulf as he went. His companion quickly arrived and took up post in the doorway. Then I bent down beside my lover, took her in my arms, and lifted her carefully onto the bed, making sure I didn't reopen the wounds I had repaired. She felt as light as a feather. I laid her down gently on her side, and checked that her breathing and pulse rate had not deteriorated. Then I cast a masking spell, such that when the doctors arrived, they would think I had used magic to heal her to the extent I had, rather than anything more exotic.
Suddenly I felt weary, and decided to let the medical personnel take things from there once Stuckart had alerted them. I brushed away the hair that had fallen across her eyes as I had moved her, and kissed her on the forehead, realising how much I cared for her and truly relieved that she was still alive. Then I pulled up the chair to sit beside her, taking her hand in mine, and waited for the doctors to arrive.