Chapter 1
Like every night these days, William Joseph Blaskowitz found himself staring at a metal ceiling, unable to catch even the slightest glint of real sleep. It seemed that every time he closed his eyes, he would see his face. The same dream, the same nightmare, every single time. He would find himself pinned to the floor of that unspeakable laboratory, staring to the face of death itself. He had to choose.
"Captain Blazkowicz. Help me make a choice." The face utters, a voice filled with age and an unexplainable ominous tinge.
"Which one, of these two varieties, would best support my research?" Death points to two men on each of his sides. On Death's the left was Fergus Reid. Blaskowitz's closest friend- living, that is. On his right, Probst Wyatt. The poor boy was only 17.
"I have inadequate room... for samples. Should you decline my appeal...I will put a scalpel to both of them and we'll be here all day!" Death punctuates this promise with a flick of his scalpel. There is no malice, no hatred, this has nothing to do with what either man had said or done. This was solely for Death's personal enjoyment.
"I'll make things...simple. All you have to do... Is look, to the one, of which you would have me dissect." Speaks the head of Death itself.
No.
No.
NO!
"William! William, wake up!" An angel reaches down from heaven, and pulls him from the depths of hell.
"William, are you okay? You were screaming in your sleep." Anya says. Such a caring and gentle voice.
After a few moments of panicked delirium, Blaskowitz finally remembered where he was. On Eva's hammer, a captured Nazi U-Boat. The headquarters of the resistance. Blaskowitz looked over at Anya. No, it wasn't just a boat or a base of operations. It was his home.
Blaskowitz caught his breath and decided to seek comfort from his fiancé."I… I had that dream again, Anya. Every night, it is always the same fucking dream." He spoke with an exhausted voice. B.J. was a tough man, probably the strongest that has ever lived, but even he has had his limits.
B.J. could see the look in Anya's eyes. He could see that his pain was hers, that she felt for him- she loved him. The look in her eyes was all he needed to calm down.
"It's okay, William. Deathshead is dead- you killed him. You aren't on the floor, you are here. You are with me. I will always be here to keep you safe, and you me." Anya always knew exactly what to say.
This small space of safety and warmth and empathy with the love of his life was not meant to last forever, though, and it ended abruptly with the sound of someone running through the corridor to Blaskowitz's quarters. The door slammed open with a solid CLANK and a man, concealed by the glare of the bright hallway lights, jumped into the room with urgency.
The man spoke, his voice thick with a moderate Scottish accent. "Blasko, get the hell out here! Grace's ordered an emergency meeting and you need to get your ass to the bridge in five minutes!"
Blaskowitz tossed the blanket onto Anya's side of the bed and kicked his legs out onto the floor. "What the hell, Fergus! It's half past four, what is so important that it can't wait two more hours?"
Fergus, having caught a glimpse of what another man should not see, covered his eyes with his mechanical arm while closing the bulkhead with his rea arm. "I don't know. You'll have to ask set."
W+J
"This is possibly the most important object in the history of the world! It is the crown jewel of Da'at Yichud, the culmination of my entire life's work!" Set Roth was more excited than Blaskowitz had ever seen him. He was standing at the map table in the center of the bridge, with most of the resistance leaders crowded around the edges of the table. In Set's hand sits the artifact Super Spesh had given Blaskowitz back in Roswell. As Blaskowitz and Anja walked to their spots at the table, Grace began to speak, impatience and tiredness conveyed in the sassy tone of her voice.
"Well Set, it must be really important for you to wake the whole ship at the asscrack of dawn. So tell us, what is it?" Grace inquired.
"This" Set began, pausing for emphasis, "Is a doorknob."
There was not a single face in that room that did not have the same gaping-mouthed, confused expression that one gets when they hear a person say something so rediculouse that it does not warrant a rational response.
"A doorknob. Your greatest discovery is a doorknob." Grace slowly spoke, as if speaking to a child.
Set's overexcited demeanor calmed, and his smile slowly fell into a more serious position. He collected himself, and responded to Grace's inquiry. "The discovery is not necessarily the doorknob itself, it is what the device is intended to open. Observe…"
Set's fingers moved across the artifact, pressing circles and lines across its decorated surface. Suddenly, to everyone's surprise, a blue light shined forth from one end of the cylinder, directly to the ceiling of the bridge.
"Ah, there it is. Just wait for a little moment for the picture to resolve" Set reassured, while setting the device on the table.
The beam of light quickly retracted towards the table, stopping in mid-air just three feet above the device. Then, the beam shot outwards to both sides, creating a rectangular screen floating in midair. On the screen was an archaic symbol, surrounded by writing in a language Blaskowitz had never seen before.
"Do you see that crest? That is an ancient symbol from Da'at Yichud's past. It is the sign marking this artifact as a creation of the Ya'Gaul brotherhood." Set spoke at breakneck pace, having been worked back up into his previous elation.
The rest of the room busted with excitement and curiosity, obviously interested in seeing what this old Jewish man has to say.
"Let me explain to you what the Ya'Gaul Brotherhood was. Ah, where to start, how do I explain this..." Set began to mumble in Hebrew, scratching his head in frustration. This lasted only seconds, though, before his head shot upwards and he turned to look strait at Blaskowitz.
"Hey shimshin, do you remember that, ah, spindly torque? The one we got from the Da'at Yichud vault and used at Gibraltar?" Set asked.
"A floating ball that can tear a bridge to ribbons in seconds? How could I forget that!" Blaskowits responded.
"Tell me, do you think that was a good weapon?"
"Heh, I'd say so."
Set pointed at Blaskowitz and said "Wrong! You are wrong, it was a horrible weapon, It was never designed for destroying anything, we just used it that way. I'm guessing that you also thought that armor you were wearing earlier was extremely protective, right? Wrong!" At this point Set's speech was almost too fast to fallow.
"Of course they worked, they were supposed to work, but they both shared a fundamental problem, and it is that they do not serve a real purpose. They were built simply to exist, to connect their inventors with God. Without an expressed purpose to be built to fight they cannot live up to their full potential." Set paused for a moment to catch his breath, and continued.
"That idea, that inventions should serve a practical, military purpose goes against everything Da'at Yichud believes. All of our most sacred beliefs. That is why the Ya'Gaul Brotherhood was created." Set paused to rub his eye. Blaskowitz noticed how tired the old man looked. He must have been awake for days.
"My parents used to tell me stories of Da'at Yichud's past, of the Brotherhood. Warnings, you see- warnings of what you mustn't do with the opportunities Da'at Yuchid brings. Nearly a thousand years ago, a man whose name I dare not speak, an elder in Da'at Yichud, desired to use the power of advanced technology to unify the world under the rule of a new order. He and his fallowers used their skills and resources to construct weapons of war and machines with the sole purpose of destruction." Set stopped for a moment to collect himself. It appears that the mere thought of such men brought him to anger.
"Eventually Da'at Yichud was able to contain the Da'Gaul Brotherhood, and all of their members were either killed or imprisoned. Yet, one question remains- where is their vault? It had to be somewhere! Somewhere hidden. In a place where you would need a map to find it, and a key to open it." Set pointed to the artifact on the table. "It was told that the vault was lost forever, but it appears that was not... entirely the case. This think must have been sitting in the Da'at Yichud vault under Roswell for centuries, waiting for the elder's decision to destroy it… or use it."
Grace spoke up, not just interested anymore but determined. "So you're telling me that this paperweight is the map and key to a whole stockpile of weapons?
Set appeared to be moderately offended by this suggestion. "Of course there are weapons! The best weapons that can ever possibly be made in a thousand lifetimes. Power armor, plasma rifles, railguns, forcefields, antimatter technology…" Set stops himself, seemingly experiencing a moment of self-reflection. "Horrible, horrible things. These are monstrosities, perversions of our duties to God. I understand why the elders waited until it was too late to use this key." Set is now clearly depressed, his head hanging low. "Had they used it sooner, the Nazis never would have won the war.
Fergus found a place to enter the conversation. "Well it might be too late for the last bloody war, but it is just in time for the next one. With a revolution in America, we will need all the help we can get!"
"What are we waiting for? We have the map, why aren't we heading there at full speed right now?" Anya questioned Set.
"I have to admit, it is not as simple as that." Set responded. "This isn't like the vault with the spindly torque, it is not a matter of walking in to a well-maintained meeting hall were we know exactly where we are and what to do. If this vault even still exists, it will be a dangerous place indeed. And then, there is another minor issue"
"Which is?" Grace asked.
"I can't read this," Set says as he motions toward the screen.
Fergus struck out at set with anger. "You can't read it? You're the member of Da'at Yishud, you knew how to read the writing on the walls of that other vault!"
Set, speaking calmly, answered his inquiry. "For one, it is not written in simple Hebrew. The Da'Gaul Brotherhood was a fundamental sect, so their work is written in Aramaic. And Aramaic was used more commonly a thousand years ago, so it is coded as well. I would have to learn to read Aramaic, and then I would have to break the code. By that time it will likely be too late for the supplies anymatter."
"So what do you suggest we do" asked Bombate, speaking for the first time of the meeting.
"We need a specialist. We need someone with experience in using maps, in exploring dangerous ruins, someone who can read Aramaic," Set pauses. "Basically we need an expert archeologist. A well-educated, experienced archeologist without any loyalty to the Nazis."
At this, Fergus straitens his back. Blaskowitz can tell from the look in his friend's face that he knows something. "I think I have an idea of who that might be." Fergus then ran into Grace's room and pulled out a file box.
"Grace, have you read all of the files on our list of active resistance connections?" Fergus asked as he placed the box on the table.
"I have, and I think I know exactly who you are thinking about. His file is right over here…" Grace moved towards Fergus, looking into the box and rummaging through the files.
"What is this all about? Who are you looking for?" B.J. asked.
Fergus, leaving the searching to Grace, began to explain the situation to the rest of the resistance fighters. "During the war, the Kraisau Circle was working with the OSS, and had contact with all of the Allie's spies and secret agents. There was one man in particular; he was a double agent working for the US. He was given a rank in the SS paranormal division and he actively kept the Nazis from getting too far in their research. He was one of the few reasons the allies held on as long as they did."
Fergus was interrupted by Grace. "This is the wrong box, this one is for inactive connections. I put the active files in my desk drawer." She ran into her room, allowing Fergus to continue.
"The OSS burned all of their files regarding their active spies just after America surrendered, so his cover was never blown. He was still working for us when he retired from SS service." Fergus slammed the table at the end of his tirade. "Which means he probably still works for us, if we can get to him!"
"Set said we need an archeologist" Bombate explained. "This man doesn't sound like someone who digs in the dirt."
"That is actually pretty interesting. Before the war he was considered to be the greatest archeologist in the world. He knows a dozen languages- including Aramaic- he has a vast knowledge of ancient history, and he has explored more dangerous ruins than anyone can count!" Fergus finished.
Set, rubbing his chin, gave his thoughts, "If he is as skilled as you claim, and he is willing to work with us, he might be exactly what we need."
Grace, with a victorious gate, walked to the table with a file in her hands. "Then we have found our guy" She said, as she laid the file on the table and opened it. Blaskowitz leaned to his left so he could read the file:
Agent Name: Colonel Henry Walton Jones, Jr.
Born: July 1, 1899
Service number: (redacted)
Undercover identity: Obersturmführer Hans Josef Schneider
Description: Col. Jones is an undercover agent in the SS Paranormal Division. His expertise in archeology allows him to pass for a German professor of history, which granted him his officer commission and access high-level position in the heart of Nazi occult research. He is currently the head of the Nazi archeological team at castle Wolfenstein, and is passing valuable research regarding German discoveries to the OSS and inhibiting other research efforts within the facility.
