Space Opera
By: Reed Beebe
Tags: Heavy Metal, Alternative History, Music, Science Fiction, Strauss

The music achieves a rousing tempo as the noble Erhard, captain of the spaceship Siegfried, sings his defiance to the Martian overlords. The human chorus joins in to support the hero’s bold aria. No longer will the Martians restrain the galactic Human Reich, the chorus sings, no longer will the Martians threaten the universe.

The elderly composer Richard Strauss feels the sweat on his brow. At 84, he has not conducted an orchestra in some time, and regrets doing so on this occasion. But his daughter-in-law and grandchildren needed help, so he had made one final deal with the devil.

Song and music fill the new Grand Opera House, a few miles from the Reich Space Command Center, safely distant from the nearby radioactive ruins of Moscow. The hall is packed with dignitaries. The State Music Bureau had commissioned the opera to honor the upcoming manned Moon launch. The year 1948 would be remembered as the beginning of Mankind’s journey to the stars. Having conquered the world with its atomic rockets, the Reich was eager to focus its subjects’ imaginations on the conquest of space.

The drums beat and the horns blow as the muscular Erhard drives the Martians off stage. The violinists and cellists put their energy into the music as Erhard embraces the beautiful Princess Eva. The attractive couple sing about the future of both their love and the human race. Strauss thinks the opera’s plot is melodramatic science fiction drivel written to meet Goebbels’ specifications, the racist overtones obvious when you substituted the Jew for the green-painted Martian cast.

Goebbels was an enthusiastic sponsor of the opera, active in selecting the cast and costumes. The Reich’s propaganda minister publicly praised the work as a bold “science mythology” for a ‘glorious new age” and was now on site to watch tonight’s debut. The Reich was broadcasting the performance live on all its networks, giving Strauss’ final artistic endeavor a global audience.

Strauss was uncomfortable working with the Nazis, embarrassed by the regard the monsters had for his music. But his daughter-in-law and grandchildren were Jewish, and the only thing saving them was Hitler’s admiration of his operas, so he accepted the Fuhrer’s favor. Few knew of his sacrifice, however, and Strauss regretted that he was perceived as a Nazi supporter.

He had been reluctant to conduct the orchestra, but relented on the condition that his family be allowed to emigrate to the distant and safe regions of South America. For the esteemed Strauss’ cooperation on such an important project, Goebbels was happy to oblige.

As the opera approaches its conclusion, Strauss can feel the weight of the object he conceals in his jacket, and hopes that his resolve will make a difference. He wonders how he will be remembered, for his music or his actions tonight, or if the Reich will allow him to be remembered at all.

Strauss admires the costumes and scenery, the bright gold and green, the smoke and lighting working with his music to create an intoxicating mood. The opera ends, and the audience rises with thunderous applause. The opera is a success.

Strauss, weak, takes his last bow, tearful at his participation in this propaganda, consoling himself that he did so for his family. He takes the small gun he smuggled into the concert hall out of his jacket pocket and puts it in his mouth as members of the audience gasp.

Tomorrow, rockets will lift the Reich’s ambitions to the stars. As Strauss pulls the trigger, his last thought is the horrific notion that Nazi astronauts will hum his music as they plant a swastika flag on the Moon, and he is thankful that the vacuum of space carries no sound.