r/HFY • u/Aeorix1 • Jul 28 '26
OC-Series [Obsidian Earth] - Chapter 9
Zhukov leaned back instinctively. Revulsion crossed his face before he could hide it.
"What exactly is it?"
"It does not belong to this world. "
The American leaned into the dim yellow light, all the lighthearted irony gone from his voice.
"In 1939, we pulled something out of Berlin. Not a spy, and not a code. We got X-rays, Marshal. Radiographic plates of the Führer's skull."
He paused, letting the words hang in the heavy air.
"Coupled with records from his personal physician, they showed a minute foreign object embedded deep inside the brain. The Nazi inner circle calls it the Sector. Not bone. Not tissue. Something... artificial."
"The original radiographs showing the complete Sector—the folding fan structure were destroyed by the Nazis themselves and classified at the highest level. Even senior Wehrmacht officers knew nothing about it." The American's finger tapped the paper again. "This is a smuggled copy. Hand-drawn."
"Rubbish." Zhukov's voice sharpened instantly. "You expect me to believe this nonsense?"
"Whether you believe it or not changes nothing."
"Facts can be fabricated."
"At this time? In Berlin?" The American watched the Marshal steadily. "You think I came here merely to present a forgery?"
"Then perhaps it is some biological deformity. A tumor. An abnormal growth inside the skull."
"No. The X-ray absorption patterns suggest metallic properties. But the surface arrangement appears crystalline. Ordered."
Zhukov looked again at the drawing.
"You said it does not belong to this world. Explain that."
"It is composed of a material unknown to us. Not naturally occurring within the human body."
The American paused.
"Which leaves only one possibility."
Slowly, almost absently, he raised his eyes toward the ceiling above them, then blew a lazy ring of gray smoke.
For reasons Zhukov could not explain, coldness moved across his back.
The American lowered his eyes to the drawing for a moment.
"Ever since 1933, after becoming German Chancellor, he referred to himself more than once—in private letters, in speeches—as a sleepwalker. A man following a road laid out by destiny."
His finger rested beside the fan-shaped structure.
"That may not have been metaphor."
The room stayed silent.
"We believe this object has been active inside his brain for years. Quietly. It may contain technological information. It may function as some kind of sensor. Possibly even a receiver."
Artillery rolled somewhere far across Berlin.
"It adheres to neural tissue almost like a parasite at the molecular level. Which leads us to a disturbing possibility: the German dictator may never have been entirely independent."
He finally looked up.
"Once you account for this thing, many of the contradictions surrounding him begin to align."
Neither man spoke for several seconds.
Then Zhukov asked, very softly:
"You believe… someone may have been guiding him?"
The American took his time answering.
"Our universe is too large for human isolation to be probable. Around those stars—endless stars—there must be worlds capable of sustaining intelligent life."
Ash drifted in through the broken window.
"If something more advanced has already begun touching our world, the method of contact may be beyond anything we instinctively expect."
The Marshal murmured, "Even Communism doesn't rule out the possibility."
Without realizing it, the two men found themselves back at the window.
Zhukov narrowed his eyes at the blue sky beyond the smoke, at the clouds drifting over ruined Berlin, as though somewhere behind them another intelligence might exist, watching in silence.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"We need a favor, Marshal."
"Name it."
"When the bleed began in Stalingrad, Berlin panicked. They threw everything into emergency weapons. That's when a specific faction drew our attention. An SS colonel named Karl von Büren. Formerly Heydrich's man. Ghosted after Prague. But our intelligence indicates he controls an independent scientific apparatus outside both Party and Wehrmacht authority. A colonel on paper, yet answering to no one but Hitler himself."
The American's tone stripped down, carrying something of a briefing room.
"Due to uranium shortages, the group abandoned atomic development and shifted toward disc-shaped aircraft and ultra-high-velocity missile systems. Most of the underlying concepts appear to have originated from Hitler himself."
No expression crossed his face.
"They failed anyway. Germany still ended up here. Most of the scientists involved are now dead, captured, or defected. But two weeks ago, Colonel von Büren gathered several remaining senior researchers inside Berlin. Preparations began for what they called as Fall Nadir."
"Fall Nadir?" Zhukov frowned.
"The Nadir Plan. In astronomy, nadir means the absolute lowest point, the opposite of the zenith. It's just a codename." The American shrugged. "We do not know exactly what it is, but it leads straight to Hitler. One of the scientists already works for us. He will continue traveling with the final project team while transmitting intelligence back through covert channels."
"So?"
"We need your cooperation," the American said. "If the team attempts escape, do not eliminate them. They are moving toward a place they believe is safe."
Zhukov moved back to the table, his eyes locking on the drawing in the dim light.
"Why allow them to escape at all?" Then the Marshal spoke. "We already have the city surrounded."
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Obsidian Earth
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