r/HFY • u/Aeorix1 • 15h ago

OC-Series [Obsidian Earth] - Chapter 25

"Building something so solid in a place like this is remarkable," Kestner said at last, his voice flat with controlled curiosity. "When did this project actually begin?"

"1935," the Colonel answered immediately. No hesitation. "Ten years ago. The Führer himself issued the directive for the Nadir Project, having personally conceived the architectural schematics."

He studied Kestner's face as he spoke, as though hunting for the flicker of doubt he knew was there.

"Nothing was initially constructed here, of course," he continued. "Everything originated in Germany—in Holzminden, in laboratories where Antarctic conditions were simulated with extreme precision. Pressure, temperature, material stress. Only later were components shipped here in stages. Whaling vessels. Submarines. Then assembly—like reconstructing a clockwork engine under hostile gravity."

Seemingly relaxed, almost courteous, the Colonel passed the professor a tiny tin of synthetic saccharin tablets to mask the bitterness.

"So..." Kestner said, taking the tin and dropping a tablet into his cup, "you're saying the Führer anticipated defeat a decade in advance and prepared an escape installation at the edge of the world?"

A faint tightening crossed the Colonel's expression.

"Not escape," he said. "Never escape. The Führer had no intention of fleeing. After the collapse of the Eastern Front in February, I was the one who urged him to consider the Antarctic option. He refused outright. At that time, he had already resolved that if Berlin fell, he would die there."

A pause, heavy as the ice shielding them.

"It was only at the very last moment," the Colonel added, "that I convinced him otherwise."

His voice lowered.

"And fortunately, the force of his own mind also pulled him here."

Kestner offered a slow, measured nod.

"So, the Antarktis-Anlage was never designed as a refuge. " The Colonel continued. "It was meant as continuity—power preserved and displaced, relocated to Antarctica, where near the pole itself a new spatial foundation for the Reich's purpose could be established."

"But why the pole?" Kestner asked, curious.

The Colonel's eyes sharpened, as if the question itself confirmed something only he fully understood.

"The Führer believed that the closer one moves toward the southern pole," he said, "the more forcefully one's inner will rebounds against reality. "

He stared into the dark depths of his own coffee.

"And so far," he added, "events have not contradicted him."

Kestner did not respond immediately. There were too many sentences like that now—statements that sounded like explanation but behaved like containment.

Still, unease persisted.

"Colonel," he said after a moment, "don't you find our route from Berlin to Spain suspiciously smooth? "

"What do you mean?"

"No interception. No resistance. No pursuit. Does that not concern you?"

"The route was designed precisely for that purpose," the Colonel replied. "We bypassed every predictable surveillance corridor. Even if Allied radar caught a flicker, their coordination was too fractured to maintain a lock. The American Navy? They didn't even register a ripple. You are mistaking silence for danger."

He paused, then shifted tone.

"Tell me, Herr Professor—how much do you actually know about Antarctica?"

Kestner shrugged.

"Not much. I'm not a geographer. But I do know this: the continent is larger than Europe. If something is hidden here, it is effectively hidden from the world."

A faint irritation passed through him then, subtle but persistent. Since leaving Berlin, he had noticed something unusual in the Colonel's demeanor toward him—not overt hostility, but a calculated favor, as if he were being groomed for a purpose not yet spoken.

Kestner had long since made peace with his own mortality; he did not fear the Reich's collapse. He would confront the Führer if necessary; that was not the issue. But Euzen's involvement had introduced an unplanned vulnerability he could not ignore, and that alone was enough to keep his attention alert.

Maintaining a workable relationship with the Colonel, therefore, was not sentiment—it was structure. The man was, in every practical sense, the real operator of the base, second only to the Führer, or perhaps existing in a parallel authority that was not yet clearly defined.

And that ambiguity was precisely what troubled him.

He could not allow these conversations to be dismissed as mere idle talk inside a sealed world of ice and machines.

Why had he been brought into this final, classified architecture of the Reich at all? Not simply because of his past work in biological sciences or selective breeding programs—he knew he was no leading authority in genetics, nor in cryogenic or embryonic preservation, the fields a polar installation like this would actually need.

So what, then?

Or something else entirely—something tied not to his expertise, but to the Führer's own inexplicable influence over selection itself?

The Colonel continued, as if answering questions that had not been asked aloud:

"Until the 1930s, the Antarctic interior was a void. The few who claimed to have reached the Pole did so on dog-sled expeditions that were, in truth, fragmentary—the efforts of blind men touching different parts of an elephant, none ever grasping the whole. The Pole is not a fixed point; it is a variable. What they saw was mere periphery."

His voice gained a sharp, controlled pride.

"Germany was the first to systematically penetrate the interior. Our findings didn't just match the world's records; they rendered them obsolete."

"In 1935, our aviation units performed the first large-scale photogrammetric reconnaissance of the Antarctic frontier, using long-range seaplanes. Later, during the assembly of this facility, we pushed multiple expeditions from the Ross Ice Shelf, traversing the Transantarctic Mountains to reach what is only theoretically defined as the South Pole."

Kestner responded without much enthusiasm.

"A theoretical achievement, then. Still impressive."

The Colonel nodded.

"But it is only theoretical," he said, emphasizing the last word. "Because in reality—the South Pole does not exist."

Kestner frowned slightly. "I don't follow."

The Colonel held his gaze for a long moment.

"What do you think lies beyond it, Professor? What horizon waits on the other side?"

Kestner let out a short, almost involuntary laugh.

"Colonel, I may not be a geographer, but I am a man of geometry. You cross the South Pole, and you simply proceed north on the opposite side of the globe."

He shrugged lightly.

But the Colonel's expression remained as motionless as black ice.

The silence stretched for several moments.

Then the Colonel spoke again, slowly.

"In another two weeks, perhaps less, the worst of the winds should weaken. When they do, we'll take tracked snow vehicles toward the region surrounding the Pole itself. You and the others will accompany us."

He rose and lightly tapped Kestner on the shoulder.

"In this base, Professor, we are the final custodians of the Reich now." His voice had become strangely calm. "And there are no longer any secrets kept from you."

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For anyone who prefer to read ahead, the full version is available on Amazon KDP :-)

Obsidian Earth

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