“What else could they possibly want them for?”
“Sofie. Think about the launches you’ve been to. Half the time, the rockets explode, don’t they?” I stared at him blankly, and he prompted, “They explode…just like a bomb. That’s an unfortunate side effect of the fuel’s volatility. But just imagine what they could do if we were to intentionally use them as explosive devices.”
To me they always seemed like dangerous toys, foolish toys. But in an instant, I understood that in the wrong hands, those “toys” could have a distinctly dark purpose. Jürgen’s friends were very careful when handling the rockets, but even so, from time to time someone suffered an injury. The best launch they had ever achieved stayed in the air for a full five minutes before it exploded, but it exploded nonetheless.
“You think they want to…weaponize them?”
“An attempt at reaching space makes some sense in terms of rebuilding our international reputation. Simply getting a device to the edge of the atmosphere would attract worldwide praise.”
“It would be incredible,” I whispered. “But is that possible?”
“With the right team and the right budget, I’m confident we could produce rockets capable of traveling many miles.”
“How many miles?”
I could almost see the cogs turning in his mind as he considered this. After a moment, he said, “The moon is 200,000 miles away, and although I still believe it can be done, I’m not convinced I’ll see it in my lifetime. The edge of space is around sixty miles… With enough money and a few decades of development, that’s likely possible. The problem is that even in designing a rocket that can travel sixty miles vertically, we’d have inadvertently designed an explosive device that could land far from its launch point.” At my blank look, he explained patiently, “Gravity is an immensely powerful force. They’d only need to develop ways to manage the angle of the fall so they could target the impact point. It’s a hideous thought, but a well-designed rocket could bomb countries some distance away, without requiring a pilot.”
“But we are prohibited from rearmament. Under the terms of the Treaty of Versailles. And exploding rockets…bombs…”
“Ah, you see—that’s the trick, isn’t it? The Treaty doesn’t mention rockets,” Jürgen sighed. “Only a handful of people in the world had even heard of the concept in 1919, when the Treaty was written.”
“Oh.”
“If representatives of any other chancellor of our lifetime made me this job offer, I’d have accepted that a space mission was the goal, probably without thinking twice.”
“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always imagined that one day someone would pay you to work on these prototypes.”
“My income from the university is unpredictable at best now. I’m not a great teacher, but I could be great at this. And we’re at real risk of losing this house. But despite all of that…”
“It’s too risky,” I finished quietly. “If you took the job and the Nazis told you to turn them into bombs, it would be too late to protest.” Jürgen nodded. He seemed relieved that I quickly realized this too. The door closed the minute it opened, but I was apparently keen to torture myself, because I asked, “Did Karl mention the salary?”
“The budget is virtually limitless. The salary is commensurate with the importance of my unique set of interests and skills. They are setting up at Kummersdorf, but they’d give me a car for the commute. They’d even pay for me to complete my doctoral dissertation while I worked. But if this technology works the way I imagine, it could be co-opted into the most destructive weapon man has ever seen. I’d be placing that power into the hands of a regime that already terrifies me.”
We fell into silence. After a while, Jürgen asked me to turn the light out. We shuffled into a new position, side by side, hands entwined. I lay staring at the ceiling for a long time. As the alarm clock beside our bed clicked over to 1:00 a.m., Jürgen cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry. I want to give you everything—to provide the kind of life you and Georg and Laura deserve,” he whispered. “But the risks are just too great.” After a moment, his hand tightened on mine. “You understand that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” I whispered sadly.
“The Nazis are dangerous, my love.”
“I told you right away. I know you can’t take the job…” He shook his head and I trailed off, frowning. “Well, what do you mean?”