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Das Vaterland


NASAFanboy

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A story set in the Kerbal universe's counterpart of **** Germany. Details the first Kerbal rocket program.

NOTE: This is not in any way a support of the **** party. Any sympathy or feelings you may or may not feel to the characters is purely cocidental. Tl dr; I don't support ****'s, they did some pretty horrid things.

SS Colonel Hans Kerman shuddered as the sounds of the Allied bombers rumbled overhead, day after day, night after night. Viewing from the ground, he could barely discern their shadows set against the sky. Within several minutes, the searchlights would ignite and the red-hot bursts of the flak cannons would follow, firing hundreds of bright streaks into the heavens. Then the night would fade away, and

with it, the bombers, and he and his troops would go about and fix whatever damage that they had caused to the military installations in the area. Repeat the next day, then again and again.

The planes were drawing nearer now, and the searchlights had begun their sweep of the sky. Hans hurried his pace to the bunker as the air raid sirens around him began to wail. There was a whistling sound, and he looked into the sky to see an slim object falling down towards him. A bomb. This just isn't fair, he murmured in a vain protest against fate. Then everything went black.

*****

The aeronautics research facilities on the shore of Laigh were barely noticeable from aerial photographs. From the sky, it was nothing but a small village and an airfield flanked by two shore batteries, amongst the many that now littered the white beaches from coast to coast. Small, innocent, and typical. For a good reason too, for the Allied bombing raids, though as damaging to the mighty war machine of the Reich as a pea-gun is to a tank, were growing in ferocity and number. But inside the village, it was anything but.

A large folder of papers landed on Wernher's desk with a dull thud. Startled, the Kerbal snapped to attention, only to sigh with relief when he realized his visitor was very familiar with him and the faculty.

"Here are the test files for the firing of the LV-909T engine."

"What about the flight test of the Vengeance One?"

"Successful; but the project was transferred to another location by order of the Reichsmarshall. Didn't you notice the engineers and equipment leaving this morning?"

"Ja, ja."

Wernher knew there was no use arguing. The Reichsmarshall was only second in superiority to the Fürher himself, and what he said, went. That was, unless one wanted to go to one of the massive camps now spread across the country, a action as foolhardy as suicide. But I'm going to miss the jet engine experts, that's for sure

"You may leave now. When is the project supervisor from the SS coming?"

"Tomorrow. He was badly wounded in a bombing raid."

"Is that so? Send my regards to the High Command."

And with that, his assistant cheerfully strode out of the door, whistling a propaganda tune. The media nowadays was militaristic and patriotic to the extreme; and Wernher despised them for that. But to protest or complain most surely would call upon the wrath of a Secret Police unit. Several of his acquaintances had discovered that to the hard way, and had never been heard of again. He wondered how much longer could he hold up his facade of support for a country that he despised, but what choice did he have? No other nation in the Coalition powers took him seriously, and would they now, since he was working for their enemy? As much as he hated the nation that he worked for with its mindless nationalism and militaristic warrior culture, could he object? Only the leader of that nation been interested enough to give him some funds to advance his research while the other nations rejected him immediately. He wanted to build rockets that would hit the Mun, not machines of death that would hit Aseria. But that's the path I'm headed. Helping a bloodthirsty buffoon conquer the world.

*****

"The Furher wants the Kraken-1 missile to be completed soon."

"Soon? Soon as in what?"

"Next month."

"That is impossible!"

"These are his orders! You cannot argue or reason with him! He wants these missiles done by next month!"

Wernher rubbed his forehead. Once more, the High Command was making more demands that were simply not practical. These idiots don't know about engineering.

"We do not have the resources or the kerpower to do it! Most I can guarantee is a test flight in two months!"

"You do not understand!"

"They do not understand! They do not understand engineering! These fools know nothing! You are a puppet of the state, how do you understand!"

"I am not a puppet of the state!"

There was a uncomfortable pause as the officer sitting across from the scientist adjusted his uniform collar. Then the two kerbals angrily glared at each other, each burning with a passion to - Knock, knock.

The door opened, and Wernher's secretary poked his head into the room.

"Herr Wernher, the phones ringing."

"Who is it?"

"I don't know. I think you should answer though, it seems pretty urgent."

Giving a quick nod to the officer, Werhner headed toward the telephone.

"Hallo?"

"Do you know Colonel Hans Kerman?"

"Ja, he was supposed to come today and takeover the main operations for the rocket programme."

"The hospital called in today to inform us of his status. He's dead."

And with that, the caller hung up. Wernher slumped against the wall, defeated. Hans had been one of the major supporters for a civilian space program, and the two had been close friends. One had joined the National Workers Party and had become a lieutenant, while the other had joined the Interplanetary Transit Society and had become a engineer, but they still kept on touch through letters. Composing himself, Wernher entered his office, expecting to meet with the officer.. There was nothing but a empty chair.

****

Within a few days, the new commander for the project had arrived in the form of Otto Kerman. An mid-aged, uncompromising Kerbal who had served on the Western Front against the Franco Republican Empire, Otto was still an engineer at heart. Which was probably why he was given charge of the infant rocket program.

"The main airframe of the Kraken-1 is being worked on as of now despite a shortage of metal bolts to weld it together. We expect to have our first flight soon, and should have several missiles operational by next year."

"Very we-"

The building shook as several bombers passed loudly overhead, followed by the distant booms of the flak guns opening fire. The raids, most of which were amusingly inaccurate (Several high explosives probably sent to destroy a radio station hit a toilet factory ten miles away) had been growing in frequency. The Reich was replying in kind, sending the new unmanned jet missiles to blast the cities of the Allied nations.

"The LV-909 will be the main engine for the Kraken-1. Wernher, have you tested the engine repeatedly? The rapid overheating is still of concern.

"Yes, herr. The engine heating issue has been fixed. Also, I have a question."

"What is it?"

"Do you understand that the first flight is an unmanned test flight that will not attack any targets, and that it will land in the ocean. May we mount scientific instruments on the payload casing?"

"Absolutely not, we are a military division."

Wernher sighed. Everything nowadays had to have a probable military application or else it would be rapidly defunded.

"But perhaps, a simple thermometer and a barometer?"

"Does that have a military application?"

Military application this, military application that. What the hell.

"The thermometer could get is some data about the upper atmosphere to use in planes and the barometer could help us design our pressure suits."

"Fine, fine, do what you wish. Just don't mount heavy equipment onto the casing. Dismissed."

And with a wave of his hand, Otto shooed the engineers out of his office. Wernher shrugged. He had won a small victory, but he needed a lot more to start a space program. Much, much more.

****

Edited by NASAFanboy
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