Chapter One: Prologue
1962-09-10
Russia, Western Siberia,
Sverdlovsk territory
Martin had been lucky his whole life, from when he was a toddler to just one year ago when he joined the Luftwaffe, becoming one of the pilots to conduct the terror bombing against the Slavic untermenschlich ever since last year. But today, it would seem his luck had finally run out.
It all started when a stone gate fell from the sky, landing in the barren wastelands as the pilot was on his final bombing run. After Speer was chosen as the successor to the Fuhrer, significant funding cuts were made to the Luftwaffe, which was Goering's brainchild and Speer's political rival. As a result, it became nearly impossible to carry out large bombing runs over the Urals. Three months ago, the High Command decided to cease all terror bombings over the Urals by mid-December. Martin had conflicting thoughts about this decision. On one hand, it would give the Slavs time to rebuild and threaten their homeland. On the other hand, flying over the Urals was always risky due to the distance from home bases and the strong anti-aircraft defenses in the region. Additionally, the attacks by the free Aviators led to a high death rate for those flying over the Urals. If an aircraft was shot down or badly damaged and couldn't make it back to friendly territory, it meant certain death.
But as he witnessed something that could be only described as magic, his mind changed to a completely different topic. Many thoughts went through his mind as he was enchanted by the eldrich structure of the stone. He came only to the one conclusion, that it must have been constructed by the ancient Aryans of old.
'We were right about the Aryan migration! Hitler, Paulus, and Goering be praised by Odin. This discovery will be the discovery of the century, undeniable evidence that the Aryans were superior to the Slavic subhumans.' Martian smiled at the stone gate.
"HQ needs to hear about this," Martin said to himself as he looked at the gate. "They will certainly begin a campaign to capture this object... and we could finally wipe off the map these Untermensch." These would be the last words Martin ever said as something crashed into his old Do-19, killing him instantly and making his tactical bomber head straight into the ground below, blowing up and lighting up the whole winter night.
While the Pilot was enchanted by the entire event, another observer had also witnessed it. This observer was a man wearing the old uniform of the former Union. On one shoulder, he had the insignia of the Red Army, and on the other, the Ural Military District of Sverdlovsk.
Lieutenant Feliks Volkov had experienced a lot of things in his life, from good to bad and even weird. But who wouldn't, if they found themselves stuck in a warlord-divided Russia, which had every kind of ideology and group one could think of? But nothing could compare to what he had just witnessed, right in front of him and his platoon.
They were conducting their usual patrol duties, typical for recon or OGBM platoons, scouting out areas and discovering old equipment from before the fall of the union. They were also prepared to counter bandit groups or raiding parties from neighboring states and even engage in raiding when necessary. However, they were not prepared for what happened next.
It all started with a loud crash, but in the darkness, they couldn't locate the source. Less than two minutes later, an explosion illuminated the night, revealing a Do 19 heavy bomber, an old aircraft from the great patriotic war, engulfed in flames. The wreckage was scattered all over the forest clearing. However, what caught Feliks' attention was a massive object near the destroyed bomber, which seemed to be a large gate of some sort.
"What in the world was that?!" Feliks recognized the voice immediately and saw its owner, the big and burly starshina Boris Falcon, lugging around his trusty RPD while looking like he saw a ghost… Feliks couldn't blame him. Boris was the oldest in the platoon, 46 years old, by at least one decade older than him; he fought in the great patriotic and had the most experience out of all of them. That is probably one of the reasons he was in an OGBM platoon.
"You saw that lieutenant!" The burly starshina said as he turned his gaze from the opening to him.
"Of course I did, Boris. I was standing right here when it happened," the lieutenant answered as he looked back at the gate. He took out a map from his case and looked through it to see precisely where this gate was located.
"Okay, starshina, listen up. Go down to the radio man and tell him what we saw here, and get the men ready to move." He said while not taking his gaze off the gate.
"What after that?" the second in command asked with a raised Eyebrow.
"We get the hell out of here and report to our superiors about the situation. It's their responsibility from there on." The officer informed his NCO. After issuing his command, the burly man swiftly saluted before heading back to the platoon. He took one last look at the gate as he turned around.
'Something doesn't feel right about that thing… can't pinpoint the reason but...' he thought as he turned around and headed downwards to his platoon.
'Well, who gives a fuck? When we get back to home base, I'll need a shot,' he thought as he went out of sight.
A day later, Sverdlovsk
In a dimly lit room sat a lone figure gazing out of a large window at the city of Sverdlovsk. He was an elderly man, appearing to be in his mid-60s, with grey hair and a receding hairline. However, the most distinctive feature of the man was not his physical appearance but rather the uniform he wore. The uniform was a greenish khaki, adorned with a large golden sleeve rank insignia and a prominent golden star above it. On the collar of the uniform, there was another large yellow star, flanked by two olive branches, leading to a sickle and hammer. This was the insignia of a very special rank in the old Red Army – the rank of Marshal of the Soviet Union. Even twenty years after the fall of the old union, this was still a revered rank, held by few as a symbol of tactical and strategical prowess, and as the defender of the proletarian revolution. The man sitting in the dimly lit room was a marshal of the long-gone union.
However, if one would have asked Konstantin Rokossovsky about his opinion on the rank. He'd probably say 'burden' and 'curse' then an honor of any kind. After all, they'd failed to protect the revolution and the union.
It has been almost 21 years since the end of the disastrous second great patriotic war, with the USSR destroyed and the people of the Union enslaved to the Nazi bastards, or at least for anyone on the western part of the AA line, as for the people of eastern Russian another hell was waiting. From bandits, raiders, and warlords, from old communists to Nazis and Fascists, with some even claiming to be Aryans, combined with epidemics and famines, and to make things worse, the Luftwaffe terror bombings. After the failed attempt to push back the Fascists five years ago, the Germans started their bombings of Russian warlords to make sure that no infrastructure or industry could be built that would threaten the German possessions in Eastern Europe. It was thanks to these bombings that ended with the destruction of the West Siberian People's Republic, one of the few early successor states of the Soviet Union, which formed back in the early 40s, which Rokossovsky and his men intentionally joined.
When Moscow fell in late December of 1941, the marshal made the pivotal decision to retreat over the Ural Mountains into Siberia with his 3rd army to get as far as possible from the German military. In doing so, he came into contact with Joseph Vissarionovich, pseudonym 'Stalin', a prominent party member who had once been a candidate for the CPSU secretary-general before being exiled to the Urals. Ironically, this exile saved Stalin and his followers from death when Moscow fell, and in the following anarchy, allowed him to quickly carve out a huge chunk of Siberia with heavy industry and urbanization. Although initially skeptical of joining Stalin and his new state, Rokossovsky eventually agreed to pledge his loyalty to Stalin, seeing no better option at the moment. For this, he was given a high position in Stalin's government and the command of the Ural Military District, one of the four Military Districts of the republic. At first, things seemed to be going fine as life had returned to some kind of normality and order after the disaster known as the 'Great Patriotic War'. However, this wouldn't last long, as thirteen years after the formation of the republic, Stalin died, being replaced by his right-hand man, Lazar Kaganovich, and things from there would only go downhill.
First came the famines, then the breaking away of Omsk, Zlatoust, Yugra, and most of the northern part of western Siberia. Then, after the end of the West-Russian war, the terror bombing started, leading to all hell breaking loose in the wastelands of what was once known as Russia. Seeing that the dream that Stalin had attempted to make was now dissolving right in front of himself, and with Kaganovich becoming more delusional by the day, Rokossovsky made a difficult but right decision of separating from the West Siberian People's Republic and forming a new provisional government in the large city of Sverdlovsk. And so ended the short life of the West Siberian People's Republic, of course, Kaganovich still claimed the rightful ruler of western Siberian, but his rule only extended to the oblast of Tyumen. In the end, the successor of Stalin would become nothing more than the usual warlord of Russia, raiding and scavenging for whatever could be used to keep their petty fiefdoms from collapsing on themselves. Of course, Rokossovsky and his men were no better than the other warlords in that sense since they raided their neighbors for loot. But at least he didn't kill for petty ideological reasons or full-blow insanity that was going on in Omsk.
A soft knock came from the door on the other side of the room, startling the old marshal from his thoughts, "You can come in." Rokossovsky said while straightening out his uniform.
The door opened halfway as his secretary's head poked through. "Sir, the Ural Committee of National Salvation has arrived and is waiting for your permission to enter. Should I let them through?"
The Ural Committee of National Salvation, also known as the committee, is the official government of the Ural military district. When Rokossovsky established his government in Sverdlovsk, he aimed to keep the government apparatus as efficient and effective as possible, and the committee served as the tool he needed. The organization consisted of military personnel, bureaucrats, and economists to assist the marshal in running his statelet. In essence, the committee combined military, administrative, and judicial governance.
"I see... let them in," Rokossovsky said as he turned in his chair to face the door fully. The secretary nodded before closing the door behind him. After a few seconds, the door opened once more, and the Committee members walked into the room. Some of the members saluted the marshal, while others gave a nod of recognition. Before long, everyone was seated at their designated spots at the table and was waiting for Rokossovsky to begin. They didn't have to wait long.
"Most of you are probably confused by this emergency meeting at the moment, and I wouldn't blame you for that," the marshal began. "But I received very sensitive information a few hours ago, and I wanted to hear your thoughts on this and what actions need to be taken."
The committee looked at each other before turning their attention back towards Rokossovsky, signaling the marshal to continue. "Roughly a day ago, an unknown object had fallen from the sky, landing right in our territory. We know it's not a former Soviet since its structure and design are foreign to our lands. We also have eyewitnesses of such event occurring."
"Can we trust such testimony?" asked one of the committee members, a civilian minister of agriculture named Evgeni Kumacheva. He was known for his large round glasses, bald head, and peculiar way of speaking as if his nose was clogged. "I mean, people have always spouted hearsay. Didn't this occur at night? Maybe the witness thought he saw the thing coming down from the sky."
"I can assure you that this testimony is completely trustworthy, as the eyewitness is a high-ranking OGBM Lieutenant," Rokossovsky replied. "Furthermore, at the moment, we have no other explanation for the appearance of this object."
"So this 'object' is German?" Another committee member spoke up, this time a woman in her late 30s with blond hair that was already graying. This was Katrina Petkevich, the head of public affairs of Sverdlovsk, "after all, the Germans rule the sky, so anything that comes from the skies should be theirs… right?"
"I initially considered that possibility when I first received this information. However, I have since dismissed such ideas," the marshal replied. "One of the primary reasons for my dismissal is the sheer size and weight of the structure. No German plane, regardless of its newness, could have carried such a thing. Furthermore, we know that the Luftwaffe would never deploy their most modern and advanced aircraft this Far East. Another reason is that when the object came down from the skies, some of its debris hit a flying German bomber, destroying it. I find it hard to believe that the Germans would destroy their men and aircraft just to land an object in the middle of nowhere."
"So what exactly is this 'object'?" Another committee member chimed in. This member looked to be in his early 40s with an already receding hairline. This was none other than Anatoly Dobrynin, the foreign minister of the district. "After all, you still haven't given us a description of this object."
Rokossovsky remained silent for a few moments, carefully choosing the right words to describe the 'object'. Finally, he settled on a single word, "gate."
"Um, gate?" Farman Salmanov said an Azeri man who was the district's minister of finance and youngest member of the committee.
"Yes, a gate," the marshal repeated while looking over the committee. "The object is a gate. It is 25 to 35 meters tall, 40 meters long and 30 meters wide. But the most startling part of this gate is where it leads."
Rokossovsky let out a soft cough, which had become more common in the past months. "Originally, when first found, it was believed that the gateway didn't lead anywhere since the back of the structure was a solid wall. However, after inspecting the front of the object, the soldiers found out that it did lead somewhere. To where, we don't know."
The weight of the marshal's words hung over the heads of the committee members as they each realized what Rokossovsky was implying. "Marshal, are you suggesting...?" Anatoly began, looking shocked, but he was interrupted by Rokossovsky.
"That is exactly what I mean, Anatoly. This gate could possibly lead somewhere, but where, I don't know," Rokossovsky said. "And with this, it brings us to two options that we have."
The marshal looked over to the man sitting to his right, dressed in the military uniform of a high-ranking officer. This was Pavel Batov, his second in command, successor, and close friend. Pavel gave a nod to Rokossovsky. Seeing this, the old marshal began to explain those two options.
"Our first option is simply. To leave the structure to its own devices for the time being, station a small unit to keep a watch on it if anything of notice happens." Rokossovsky gave his first option, "The second one is to send a sizeable detachment of troops to said object with a research team, a combination of the Sverdlovsk design bureau and the Ural State Technical University's brightest minds to see what in the world this thing is. In my opinion, this is the more beneficial move in the long term."
The committee remained silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond to the leader of the district. Then Anatoly spoke up, "It's an interesting proposal, Marshal Rokossovsky, but I see some flaws in your thinking. Firstly, sending so many soldiers to one place would put a heavy burden on our army and state. Additionally, if the Germans saw such a concentration of people, they wouldn't hesitate to send their bombers to attack. We would not only lose our men but the gate could also be destroyed."
"You make valid points, Anatoly, but don't worry, I've already taken them into account when considering the second option," Rokossovsky responds to his foreign minister. "The size of the detachment wouldn't be larger than a few hundred men, possibly as big as a battalion, consisting of a mix of armor, OGBM, and infantry troops. As for your second concern, I wouldn't be too worried since the Germans' raids have been decreasing since last summer, and according to the Zlatoust merchants, we've heard that the Luftwaffe is planning to stop all bombing raids over the Urals."
"Marshal, that's good news, but it also brings up a new problem," said a man from the committee. He was a man in his late 40s with blond hair, dressed in the military attire of a major general. This man was Dmitrii Mel'nikov, the director of OVB, the intelligence and counter-intelligence agency in the Ural military district. "After all, the terror bombings kept everyone at bay. With them gone, Tyumen and Omsk will certainly use this opportunity to attack each other, or us."
"And we shell too," Rokossovsky answered swiftly and with ease. "We've been preparing for this ever since we split off from Tyumen. Building up our forces and stockpiling our equipment for the unification of West Siberia and then of Russia as a whole. And I believe our forces are ready for it."
The marshal coughed lightly and quickly grabbed a nearby glass of water, downing it in one gulp before continuing. "Now then, let's vote on what action to take, as time is of the essence," of course, Rokossovsky knew that in the end, it would come down to him to choose which option they take, yet, he still wanted to hear out what the other committee members thought on the two options and which to choose.
As the committee began to make its choice on the matter, it became painstakingly clear that the second option had won out. Which didn't surprise since the marshal had hinted at his support for the second option, the old man couldn't help but smile at this. As he knew that this 'object' had something special about it, he just got a gut feeling about this and that it could help save his surrogate nation, but only time would tell.
Here is the first chapter of the TNO x AOT Story: Rise of the Siberian Phoenix. I hope you enjoyed this introduction to the first fanfiction story I've written. When I first discovered that the Hoi4-AOT crossover tab had no stories on it (although as of posting this story and chapter, there is a story by the name of 'The Weltkrieg's Legacy' by iDiesol) I was pretty shocked. I wanted to write one with an interesting twist, being a TNO crossover. And so, this story was born.
Now, for anyone who doesn't know what 'TNO' is, this story is for you. There's a lot of lore to take in, but I'll mostly be talking about Russia's situation, so the rest of the world will be left out for the most part. If you still want to read this story without looking up the lore, TNO or The New Order: Last Days of Europe is a Hearts of Iron 4 mod that takes place in an alternative timeline where the Axis powers won World War II, taking a realistic approach to this concept. This means Japan and Germany don't conquer the world. There are still global powers with spheres of influence, like the USA. Some unusual events occur in TNO, but not to the degree of some alternative WW2 timelines.
I'm not sure when the second chapter will be released. If I start writing it right after posting this one, it may be out by the end of this month, or even earlier depending on the situation. I have other fanfictions I'm planning on doing and posting, so it's hard to give an exact date. Well, with that said, I'm going.
DukeJmes OUT!
TRIVIA TIME! (Here I give some fun facts about the story and the characters.)
OVB: So OVB or otdel vnutrenney bezopasnosti, is the name I gave to the Ural Military District. Now in lore, the name of this organization is ISB or Internal Security Bureau. While this one would be translated into Internal Security Department, the reason I changed it was because it sounded a bit better in my opinion.
OGBM: During World War II, the Soviet Army Special Forces were not yet called Spetsnaz; this name only came into use in the 1950s. Before that, these units were referred to as 'OGBM' or Otdelnly Gwardieskij Batalion Minerow, which translates to 'independent guard-battalion of miners' in English. The story begins in the early 60s, and at that time, Zhukov, who was the first person to use the name 'Spetsnaz,' is still alive and active in western Russia. I've taken steps to ensure that the warlords in West Siberia are not using this name, at least for now. Perhaps this will change in the future.
Defunding the Luftwaffe: When playing Germany, and when you choose Speer as the Fuhrer's successor, you get a focus where you can take away funds from the Luftwaffe and weaken Goering. Now, in the game, it doesn't change anything for the warlords or West Russia and Western Siberia, as the raids only stop when the civil war breaks out or Moskavay collapses. Of course, for this story, I've changed that a bit.
