The ship is damaged. We patched it up the best we could, but there wasn’t much we could do with the resources we have out here. We’ll need to get to an Eagle Nest for repairs, and it’s at least thirty kilometers away. The Howling Dark is limping its way to safety.
We lost nine men. Two to gunshots. Six to cannon fire. One to broken glass. Ulric, Volker, and I stand in the empty husk of the Bridge. The day is clear, so only a little bit of sand comes through—even so, we still need to wear our armor and helmets to stay safe. Volker was able to get patched up. We buried the dead, including Witzel, in the desert, placing tokens with swastikas on top of the graves. From the environment of the crew, none of them blamed me for what happened.
It was just the nature of the Kiln, and the nature of the Scavengers. Our friends died serving the Reich, and as the Eternal Führer preached, that is the most noble death any of us could hope for. They all died heroes—but deep down, I know they didn’t need to die like that.
I’ve done that same maneuver dozens of times. Sure, it is risky, but it always came with a big reward as well. The shots from the main cannons were missing. They have a narrower range than the side cannons. It was meant to be one decisive blow, and it has worked before. Yet instead of celebrating victoriously while sailing away from the wreckage of our enemies, I watched over my men’s burials in this land of salt and sand.
With the tread damaged, nobody knows how long we have until it gives in. For now, we simply take it slowly and delicately. It may give out at any second, or it may not. For now, I stand here on the Bridge, in my armor, staring out through an open window, anticipating the clunk of the tread’s final rotation.
I pick up the radio to prepare for emergency pick-up from the nearest Nest in case our ship is stranded. I click the button, but there is no soft white noise. I click it again, and then again. Then I try my helmet. Nothing.
“I’m not getting any signal from outside the ship,” I tell Volker.
“What do you mean? I can hear you fine through the helmet intercom,” Volker replies.
“Yeah, but the helmets work on a limited range, I’m trying to use long range and it isn’t working. I think our long range communications are damaged.”
“Fuck. I’ll send somebody down on the deck to check,” Volker replies. He turns around and says through the short-range radio, “Hey, go check the long range communication rod see if it’s there, we can’t get signal outside the ship.”
We stand in silence awaiting a response.
“They knew what they signed up for,” Volker responds in a reassuring tone. “This is the Kiln. Fuck, every boy in the Reich dreams of fighting against the Scavengers. When we get back, they will be remembered for what they did today. We stopped two ships from getting further north…that’s something…”
“I suppose.”
“Witzel was a good officer.”
“He was. The last thing I said to him was I was going to throw him overboard…all because he wanted me to call in the Drop.”
“I didn’t want the Drop called in either,” Volker admits, “it feels…so against…what Hitler stood for. About a noble battle. Feels like it robs something from defending the race…you know.”
“I never once had an Aegir Drop called in, not once…we always found a way to get out of tough situations…”
“I wonder why this time was different.”
“When you do something so much you eventually stop seeing the danger in it I suppose.”
“You forget how dangerous the Kiln really is. I get that.”
“You do?”
“Well…not personally. But I’m not Captain. Captains need to have that personality—First Officers don’t. We’re the ones that keep that stupidity in check.”
I chuckle, “I suppose you’re right. Where were you two hours ago?”
“Following orders the best I could.”
It’s noon by now. The sun is at its highest and strongest. This metal cabin is becoming a furnace without the safety of the windows. Even under my armor, I can still feel the creeping kiss of the smoldering desert air. Volker excuses himself and retreats underneath the deck to tend to his wounds again, and probably to escape the heat too, leaving just Ulric and I alone overlooking a white and orange plain.
“I fought to retake Eagle Nests when I was seventeen,” I reflect. “Didn’t think anything of it. Sure it was dangerous. I lost my arm, shook it off, kept going. This is my element. I command this element. The desert and sand, and facing off any threat that gets in my way. After years…the danger just becomes the average.”
“Remember the family cottage in Bavaria? We went there every summer,” Ulric remarks, his tone shifting.
“Yeah, Father wanted me around all the time but I went off sometimes to fuck the local girls,” I say.
“That’s where you went?” Ulric asks.
“Oh? Oh yeah, you were too young to know that.”
“Anyway, there was always this cliffside I would climb, and I never thought it was dangerous…until I slipped. I didn’t fall or anything, but it was that jolt—your heart racing when you realize that you’re not on flat ground. Sometimes we forget and it takes a slip to bring perspective,” he explains.
“Hell of a slip this was,” I mutter.
We continue on in silence, watching the distant blurry pillars rising on the horizon. They aren’t ships, they are towers. The first Eagle Nests that we’ve seen on this journey. Eagle Nest #13. It appears so close, yet I don’t know if we will make it.
“Father always had a good way of putting things in perspective,” I reminisce. “You get that from him. Apologies about the hit earlier.” I point to the part of his helmet that I assume his cheek is under.
“You get the temper from Mother,” he says. “And the stubbornness.”
“Oh yeah, she was really stubborn about me going to a good university. ‘Don’t go into the military,’ she said. ‘It won’t do any good for you.’ Silly her though, I got a metallic arm out of it.” I joke, holding up my rusting arm.
“She forced me to go into university,” Ulric flatly admits. It catches me by surprise.
“What? I thought you were a scholar and wanted to study the Reich history, and all that.”
“I do. But I kinda wanted to serve first you know? You were already deployed into the Kiln. Kinda looked up to that, wanted to be like that. The Eternal Führer always wrote about fighting for our people.”
“He also talked about serving the people as well,” I explain. “And you are a Knight, a descendant from his original guard—if that isn’t serving I don’t know what is.”
“Right,” Ulric agrees. “This should be a dream come true.”
“And it isn’t?”
“It’s…it’s not what I thought it’d be like. Maybe I just envisioned the rest of the Reich like Germania. I knew that the Kiln was dangerous, but…”
“But what?”
“I guess I just imagined it’d be different.”
“Different how?”
“When I first envisioned calling down an Aegir Drop, I thought it would be this glorious moment. The feeling you get when you’ve served, did something. Yet it wasn’t out of glory, it was out of desperation. The blast hurt our own…even if it saved us. Like, the salvation ended up harming everyone on both sides, even if we survived.”
“What are you getting at?”
“We’ve always been taught the dams are good because they give us endless energy, and stopped us from going to war again. And the dams are good, don’t get me wrong…they saved us. Yet at the same time, it still harms us…you know? The dams drained the sea…it took something away to prevent us from losing everything. Just like the Drop took away so we could be saved.”
“The dams took away the water?”
“The water…something…I don’t know if this Reich is what the Eternal Führer would have wanted. For us to still be fighting against Scavengers and defending our borders thousands of years after he is gone.”
“You are the scholar, you’d know more than anyone here what he would have wanted. But I think he’d be happy to simply see the Aryans alive.”
“He didn’t just want the Aryans alive. He wanted his people, those that looked like him, with blond hair, blue eyes—this destined strong race—to thrive. This doesn’t feel like thriving. It feels like we’re straggling.”
“He did say that we would struggle with the Scavengers you know. Plagues can come back occasionally.”
“I’ve always wondered why we can’t just invade down south. Find the Scavengers and end this once and for all.”
“You’re asking the wrong person, Ulric. I always figured it was because it’s better to protect our own borders.”
“If I was Führer we’d do things differently.”
“I’m sure you would.”
“I’d try to find the lost records before the Reclamation. Imagine seeing the actual faces of the original National Socialist leaders. Hitler, Goebbels, Göring, Himmler, Hess…they must have towered over the lesser Europeans like gods…with true Aryans being so rare. I wonder how out of place they felt.”
“I would like to see what Germania looked like before it was Germania. I read somewhere it was called Berlo…Barlan…”
“Berlin.”
“Ah yes, thank you. See I’m not a historian. Just know enough to get by.”
There is a crackling on my helmet radio and a wispy voice comes through. It’s Volker.
“Status on the long range communications, Volker.” I ask urgently.
“Yes, sir,” he responds, “there is a massive hole where they used to be. The entire relay is gone.”
“Fuck,” I curse. “Alright, come back up here. We need to get this thing to the Eagle Nest.”
Volker cuts the radio, and I turn back to Ulric.
“Long range communication is down,” I announce. “We can’t get through to anybody outside the ship.”
“So what now?” he asks.
“Now we’re on our own.”
I bring my hands to my helmet, and take a deep breath—squinting my eyes, wishing for this situation to end.
“Hell of a first journey into the Kiln, isn’t it,” I mutter to Ulric, my mouth contorting into a smile. Sometimes when situation gets bad, I can’t help but find myself laughing at the preposterousness of the problem.
“If you would have just called in the—”
“Stop,” I interrupt my brother.
“These is a tool we have at our disposal, I don’t see how it isn’t honorable,” Ulric says.
“Do you feel like you really fought against those Scavengers?” I turn around and say, my voice becoming tense.
Ulric looks at me and pauses for a few seconds stuttering out a response.
“Well…yes,” he concludes. “My action brought down the steel rod and it struck down our enemies—it saved us.”
“But you didn’t personally do it yourself.”
“Yes I did,” he defends, “I pressed the button, my action led to their ship exploding.”
“It’s not the same.”
“How is it not?!”
“There is nothing like looking your enemy in the eye when you drive in that knife, or shoot that gun. The people who have ravaged the Aryans since time began. It’s personal. It’s real. It’s how our ancestors did it.”
“Perhaps I don’t share the same views on protection of the race as you do.”
“Perhaps you don’t. You’re the more intellectual type anyway.”
“I told you that we needed to call in the Drop, yet you were too arrogant and wanted to relive some battle fantasy, you didn’t even consider how you were putting us in danger.”
“I have done that maneuver dozens of times before you even entered school, I don’t need you lecturing me,” I spit.
“You don’t even feel guilty for what happened?”
“Of course I do!” I yell.
There is a pause. Ulric stares at me through his helmet. I slouch myself down onto a chair near the dashboard.
“Of course I do. I’m the Captain. This is my ship. Every death, I feel. I know…” I collect myself, putting my rusting arm on my knee and looking up at Ulric, “I know that we should have called in the Drop. But you have no idea how hard that was for me. It’s like…like a clash between my survival, and glory…I feel like they are opposites.”
“What do you mean?”
“Perhaps my glory in this desert is not achieved by surviving. Perhaps it’s through death in battle. Like the Eternal Führer wanted.”
“You aren’t a grunt in the military anymore,” Ulric flatly states. “You can’t just die in combat. You can’t send this ship into the fray like you’re charging enemy guns. It’s your duty to protect everyone on this ship. Protect me.”
“I know.”
“And protection means calling in any resources we need to keep the ship safe.”
“I know,” I repeat again, in a lowered, annoyed tone, “It doesn’t mean I agree with it.”
A loud crack rings out across the ship. Both of us are launched forward by the Howling Dark. I slam into the dashboard and Ulric topples into a wall. Then, not a second later, the ground slowly begins to tilt to the starboard side. The tread has broken and partially given away.
Ulric and I slowly lift ourselves to our feet. The wind was knocked out of me and so I struggle to breathe.
“You alright?” Ulric asks me.
I hold out a finger to him, while my other arm clutches at my stomach.
“I’m fine,” I cough. “Just got hit in the chest.”
We stumble around, attempting to maintain our stance. With the tread having partially given way, the ship is listing a few degrees. The other engine attempts to spin, rotating the vessel before I reach the dash and stop the movement. In a few seconds, the ship comes to a halt.
We are stuck. I peer out toward the Eagle Nest far away, its large towers sluggishly rising above the white desert. Taunting us.
Volker opens the door in a slow, delicate fashion, trying to maintain his balance. He meets Ulric and me, all of us understanding the dangerous situation we are in. The ship is trapped, and we have no communications with the outside world.
“We need to send for help,” I tell him.
“Fantastic, that’s what I was thinking. Because I don’t feel like boiling alive in this sitting oven,” he responds.
“So what do we do,” Ulric asks me in a flat voice.
“We can’t walk it’s too far,” I theorize. “We have the Camels, however, and they certainly have enough fuel in them to get us to the Eagle Nest on the horizon.”
“Does everyone take the Camels out of the ship?” Ulric says.
“Of course not,” Volker says, “we still have the cargo, what if another Scavenger ship comes by?”
“It’s just cargo, are you willing to die for that?”
“There are weapons in those cargo crates as well,” I butt in. “If they get ahold of those guns and ammunition then who knows what damage they could do.”
“Most of the men will need to stay here to defend it, or in case help comes,” Volker states.
“Is there supposed to be another ship coming this way?” Ulric says.
“Not for at least two days,” I state. “We still have the engines and cooling running, but I don’t know if the ship’s power can last that long.”
“So somebody will have to make the trip. They have those tow ships in the Nest. They could drag the ship to safety,” Volker says. “We can send somebody from the engine room, or maybe a guardsman.”
My mind races as I think about the predicament we are in. It is a dangerous journey, crossing over in the Camels. Even if they were life rafts, they are still prone to breaking down and are not as sturdy as a full-treaded ship. I don’t want to lose another sailor out here.
“I’ll do it,” I say. “I have friends at the Eagle Nest anyway who will recognize me and we can get help quicker. I’ll go on the Camel.”
“You’re the Captain, sir,” Volker insists. “You don’t need to do this.”
“I ordered the maneuver and the maneuver failed, this is my responsibility and so I’ll go on the Camel to get help.”
“I’ll come with you,” Ulric says.
“No,” I reply. “You stay here with Volker and keep an eye on everything. Camels aren’t safe.”
“I’m not a child,” Ulric argues. “When you were my age you did far more dangerous things. You got your arm blown off.”
“I wasn’t a Knight, you are,” I state, my temper flaring. I did not need to worry about my brother in the desert.
“You should really listen to your brother, Ulric,” Volker insists. “Don’t you need to do more research with the book anyway?”
“I’m not going to do research while worrying if Ansel is safe or not,” Ulric states flatly. “I mean, we disagree but…still—I’m coming with you.”
“I’m not having this conversation—you’re staying. Volker prepare a Camel for me, I’m heading out in an hour,” I repeat myself as I stroll to the door and open it. I begin descending the staircase and hear footsteps behind me.
“Stop it, Ulric, you don’t know how dangerous it is out there,” I state.
“And it’s safer here?”
I turn around and look at him three steps above me.
“Yes, it is—we have guns, men, and most importantly, the closest thing to shelter in this desert. I need you here.”
“And what if something happens? Am I supposed to wonder what happened to my brother?”
“If I don’t come back by nightfall, they’ll send another Camel to look for us. We have three. I won’t be long.”
Ulric takes off his helmet in the safety of the cool staircase, leans close to me and whispers.
“I’m going. And I don’t feel safe here anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your crew has been…treating me oddly…I think it’s because I’ve been interrogating that Scavenger. They seem suspicious of me. It’s stupid but I just don’t feel comfortable if you leave me alone with them.”
My mind races in confusion. Crew treating Ulric badly? What the fuck.
“What are you talking about? Who has been treating you badly? What are they doing? I want names.”
“It’s just a feeling of mine. You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach. That gut instinct something isn’t right?”
“Far too well.”
“I get that feeling every time I’m eating lunch, or walking the halls. They stare, and mutter. As if I’m a threat. I think they suspect me of siding with the Scavenger, or being sympathetic, I don’t know, but after what happened with the Drop and Witzel I don’t feel safe here. Please.”
I look at my brother who has genuine concern on his face. My blood simmers as I contemplate how many feel that despicable way against a kid his age.
“Fine,” I say. “When we are done with this journey and get back to Europe I want names, and will handle it. Let’s just get this fixed.”
“Thank you,” he says.
We make our way down the stairs and underneath the deck. The Camels are housed in a large garage at the bottom of the ship. Men are rushing around us, attempting to fix anything they can and prepare for the long wait the Howling Dark will be in for. I study every face, thinking about which one could be planning something against Ulric. First, I damage my own ship, and now I might not even be able to trust my own crew.
Ulric and I walk through a doorway and a series of small hallways opens up into a large hangar. In front of me stands a line of three large orange vehicles held up by four wheels at either side. These were the Camels. Large compared to a human, yet small compared to anything we’d find out in the desert. Only a small light machine gun is propped on the top of the vehicle. They aren’t meant for offense, to put it lightly.
“I need supplies for a day’s journey to the Eagle Nest,” I tell one of my men, dressed in a cloth of burgundy. “Food, weapons, water.”
He nods and gathers other men to fetch the goods we need for our trek.
“When we go out there you need to realize it won’t be like being on this ship. This is an island in a sea,” I tell Ulric.
“I know,” he responds. “I can take the risks.”
A man hurries through the doorway and enters the hangar. His helmet is off, revealing a very sweaty and disheveled First Officer Volker.
“Did you get the supplies?” Volker asks, out of breath. I assume he ran downstairs.
“The men are getting what we need for the journey right now,” I say, examining the inside of the vast hangar. It’s dark and musty, with only a few hanging lamps for light.
After a few minutes of waiting, a line of men begin to load up our Camel with the supplies we need. They all nod and go on their way.
“Are you sure you can hold everything down while I’m gone?” I ask Volker.
“More than I do already?” he laughs, and we shake hands.
“Good luck out there you both,” he says, shaking hands with Ulric as well.
“You as well, First Officer,” I say.
Ulric and I walk into the open back of the Camel. It’s a large transport meant to fit around ten people, so that means we’ll have enough space.
“Are you sure you don’t want any more men to come with you?” Volker asks me, standing outside the Camel.
“I don’t want to risk anymore on this journey,” I shout back. “This is my job.” And I give him a smile before I press the button on the side wall which will begin closing the large hatch inside. As the Camel’s hatch slowly shuts, Volker raises his arm outstretched in a salute.
“Sieg Heil,” he calmly says.
“Sieg Heil,” I repeat back.
The hatch rises over his face, and Volker disappears from view. A few seconds later, it closes with a deafening hiss, signifying that the cabin is pressurized and ready for travel. The lights around Ulric and me illuminate the grey steel box that is this vehicle. A row of seats line the edge of the walls, leading up to a cockpit with a wheel.
“I didn’t want you to come on this with me,” I tell Ulric, sitting. Then I get up, pace across the cabin to the seat at the front of the Camel, and prop myself neatly on it. Both hands wrap around the wheel as I take in the large windowed space that the front provides.
“I know,” Ulric replies.
Alarms blare throughout the hangar. Red lights swirl around the great, large doors as they swing open. The bright light of the Kiln floods into my eyes as the sea of salt reveals itself. Dust and sand softly hug the steel portal with the whistling of wind.
My rusted arm presses a single large button on the dashboard of the Camel. The vehicle rumbles, as its engines roar to life, awoken from its slumber. Everything vibrates for a few seconds before settling down. I look to my left and see Volker, his hand raised in salute. I meet him with a nod, then turn back to the desert before me.
Ulric appears to my right, plopping himself down on the other seat. His face isn’t laced with nervousness, but anticipation. The same anticipation as when he first came to this place. I didn’t want Ulric here. Not just in this Camel, but in this land. I knew it was a terrible idea to include him on such a dangerous journey, but instead of listening to my gut, I suppressed it and allowed my little brother to be put in this situation.
If he weren’t here, perhaps I’d just drive this Camel toward the Nest hoping, no, pleading that another Scavenger ship would find me. The Howling Dark would send another Camel. My men would survive without me.
My mind is tantalized by the image of me walking out into the desert one last time, gun in hand, ready to face down them all. Ulric says that seeing your opponent before you kill them doesn’t matter, but I couldn’t disagree more. There truly is nothing like it. I feel myself getting weaker every day. My breath labors, my skin wrinkles, my back aches. There is no greater curse than living past your prime.
Walking out into the desert to face down the Scavengers—that is the way I would want to go. I was robbed of that back in the military. I was robbed of a noble death. This rusted arm reminds me of it every time I wake up.
As I press on the pedal and the Camel moves forward, its tires hitting the desert ground with a graveling thump, my mind goes blank. All I think about is the pleasure of serving the Reich. The pleasure of dying with honor.
Yet now, with Ulric at my side, I cannot do that. He is better than me. Knows more about the Reich than me. He’d serve our race better than I ever could, even if we disagree. So as the Camel travels forth, away from the broken-down ship, I put aside in my mind the will for a glorifying death and focus on the dark towers up ahead.