"Your papers, please. You need to drive an accredited vehicle. You need to keep the speed limits. And you need a permission to have guns and you aren't allowed to carry them openly. So what do we have here? No papers, no accredited vehicle, driving too fast,... I think, you should come with us. Erm, did I say shooting other people is also forbidden here? Sir, would you lay your gun on the ground?" Boom, the police car explodes. "Erm, you can drive on. Good night, sir."
Indeed he had not only conducted a minor administrative offense, driving too fast ( I guess over 70 kph too fast, so 600 € and 3 months loss of the driver's licence and 70 € for driving a vehicle without accredition. Oh, and 4 points in Flensburg) but also crimes. § 21 StVG says fine or prison up to 1 year for driving without a licence. Then § 22a Kriegswaffenkontrollgesetz, if he has something like a bazooka with him. Or if he has a projectile firing weapon then §§ 51, 52 WaffG. That would mean 1 and up to 5 years. If he has a laser gun he has no problems.
LOL.
That police officer has balls of Adamantium if he gets out of the car, and walks up to Khan. Especially if Khan gets off the bike, and the officer doesn't flinch back. Would make for one hell of an interesting moment later on.
The goose was simply perfect, with crispy skin, soft flesh and a filling of apples and bread. It was also a really filling food which slowed the conversation to a crawl.
Still, Jan Fredriksen was not very happy with his guest, this was not the Christmas spirit that he had hoped for.
"A very good thing that this is the past then, we do better now."
"Oh yes, you do. No two ways about it, things are better these days. Some might remark there is a lack of warrior spirit or that the morals were better than in the old days. I would not presume to judge."
Svea looked the old man in the remaining eye.
"Funny things, these old time morals. Whom you sleep with and how is a very big deal, but killing somebody about something as flimsy as honor is quite ok, right?"
There was a bit of shocked silence around the table which was shattered by a deep rumbling laugh.
"Good one jente. My people considered eydrofars among the worst sinners, those who broke their oaths and kinslayers, those who murdered family. And back when Christmas was not such a nice feast getting pregnant out of wedlock was a problem, not so seldom a lethal one. But, right you are, there was so much killing for such stupid reasons, no honor in that at all."
"And having a "warlike attitude" stops being a survival trait when industrial warfare becomes possible. On our old world we came very close to wiping us out on at least two occasions. A people who start a fight at the drop of a hat will not last long."
"I surrender before your knowledge of your old home Herr Fredriksen and am sure you are right. So, thank you for taking me in for the night and having me enjoy a peaceful time. A friend in need is a friend indeed."
"To friendship then"
The desert was Holstein Red Fruit Jelly with vanilla sauce, contrasting the sweet vanilla sauce against the slightly acidic fruit jam. Everybody was pretty fully and happy, the candle-lit tree added a cozy illumination and an amicable silence settled over the table.
"Herr Wednesday?"
"Yes Björn?"
"You seem to know an awful lot about old gods and whatnot."
"I have a bit of knowledge in that regards, yes."
"They teach us about the Warp in school now. They state that the gods, demons and whatnot come from our beliefs."
"So I have heard as well. Some of the Gods, especially the fell kind, seem not to come from belief but reflect man's baser nature."
"So what about our god? We believe in him, but there seems nobody there when you pray. The kids from the Empire are always pulling our legs about it."
"If your teachers are right and people keep believing something might form in the realm of the gods, maybe there is something there already. But these things will take time, actually a lot of it. And even if that happens, have you heard that you should be careful what you wish for?"
"No, why should I?"
"Because you might get it. And then you might find that you really do not want what you received. Have you read your bible? Yes, there is a loving and caring god in there. There is also the most frightening character I ever read about. So which one will form?"
"Uff."
The break was enough of a pause that Svea could jump in.
"What about all the people who believed on Earth? So many people believed for such a long time, doesn't that count for something?"
"Old Earth was farther away from the Empyrean in many ways. And what parts of the Empyrean it touched are far from here. So whatever impact those prayers and beliefs had, they will leave only a shadow of what might be here. It might be that a prayer or a coral soothes the heart better than it should. A figure of light might be seen an enemy in a place of great magic. The old religions will even be worse. I do not think that Professor Toth teaches wisdom at some university and others might be reduced to an old man without a ship. On the other hand he as well might on the evening that was originally meant to venerate him..."
"What..."
The deep rumbling laugh could be heard again and broke he tension.
"Sorry jente, could not resist. Thanks for shelter and dinner, I am in your debt Herr Fredriksen. I think I'll retire to your guest room if that is all right with you?"
Autobahn A7, close to Fulda
Jaghatai's helmet projected data on the inside of his helmet. He rarely needed that, having driven his bike for so long. Now he checked the speed. He was doing better than 250 kph, which was plenty fast given the curves the road had. And a simple, promethium-powered vehicle followed him closely, had actually closed the distance? Now that was something he had not seen for a long time. The flashing lights and some script that that appeared in the car's windscreen made it likely that this world's lawmen had taken notice. He wondered what local customs he might have violated. Driving too fast was probably not it from what he had seen. No matter, he was not going to discuss the finer points of the law with the locals.
Turning the throttle all the way up yielded a little more speed and forced him to bend down a little bit more. The rear tire bit even more into the tarmac and pushed the bike up an incline and through a curve at a frightening pace. If he could open up the distance he might lose the pursuit. When the curve ended he saw that the blue strobes had changed somehow. A quick look to his right revealed that the lawmen had managed to pull along side him. The car looked more Eldar than human, the flowing curves were nothing like the Empire built. It looked elegant and light. Only somebody with the Primarch's enhanced senses could see well enough into the car despite the darkness. He spotted two beings who seemed human enough at first glance. Humans who kept pace at a speed challenging even to him, who managed to drive well enough to overtake him. He saw his chance and saluted the occupants of the car.
He saw their widening eyes, could imagine their awe at having a look at a bike higher that their car and a rider whom they had to look up to. A giant of a kind their primitive world had probably never seen before.
They spotted the car on the right lane in time, barely. Jaghatai smiled when he saw them braking for their lives and those of others while he sped ahead on the left lane which was free at present.
When he crested the next hill the car did not come alongside again, but he saw a pair of lights in the mirror that did not go away. Hunkering down as deep as he could he coaxed a little more speed from his bike.
Sea of Claws, close to Langeness Island
Svea had not believed she would sleep well after this strange Christmas evening, there was so much to think about. And while she had a small room to herself the rain was quite loud against her window next to her bed. There was also a piece of goose in her stomach, asking for lots of blood to digest it. The goose won and she had gone to sleep barely the moment her head hit the pillow.
She could not say what had woken her up and when she did she was disoriented for a moment. Something was missing and something else was there which had been missing before. Svea needed a moment to realize that it was the silence and the light of Mannslieb which shone through the window. The stars were out and the small yard that connected the various houses was bathed in a pale, slightly green light.
She was about to turn from the window when she saw something emerging from the garage. The building had been a stable before, or so she had been told. But why would someone be over there in the middle of the night? But someone was and she could not recognize who made his or her way across the yard. Only Svea's family and her were on the small island at present. Oh, there was Herr Wednesday, but he was less hunched-over, less massive and had not walked in such a strange way.
Like in a dream she could only watch, not move and watch she did. The more the figure came into Morrslieb's light he became ever more visible. It was hard to say where the fur of the coat stopped and beard and hair started. Even if there was a coat at all or if this was fur was not clear. What was without question was that there were two horns, disfigured and misshapen. The face was hard to see, but the eyes were just black tunnels while the teeth were too well defined. There were chains hanging across the beings back, a whip and canes were visible hanging from what might be a belt.
And then the being looked right at her.
Autobahn A7, close to Kirchheim
Until lawmen had shown up it had been an invigorating ride, just him and his bike with a good road under the wheels and a race against time he was going to win handily. Now it was a challenge, a battle of skill and luck. He had next to no intelligence of the humans of this world. Unless he had clear indication that they pledged allegiance to the fell gods he was unwilling to kill them. At the same time he certainly had no time explaining his travels to people who would hardly know his language. This looked like no Imperial world he would recognize and the radio frequencies were only filled with gibberish.
He had to be careful though. These people were far from Imperial levels of technology, but they were not primitive. The car that paced his was proof of that and a civilization that could build it could also build powerful weapons systems. He would gladly battle any being ever born or raised in a vat. But if the locals took the gloves off they might simply bomb him from altitude.
And before him they made their play. It was no ambush, not as such but they wanted him to see them, wanted him to slow and surrender. The bright strobing lights said as much, as did the illuminated panels he could not read. They tried to waylay him at a place where construction work reduced the width of the road considerably. He barely saw the belt of nails barely in time and far too late to break before it. His bike ran right over them and the tires ignored them as they would ignore anything else that would litter a battlefield. There was air in them, but tension and shape was provided by high-tech foam. He could hardly see whether the locals were phased by that, but their Plan B became quite visible a second later. A small truck was pushed perpendicularly to the road, blocking his way completely. He might barely break in time, he could not go around as the road had steel guardrails on both sides.
The Melta on Jaghatai's bike had been built to penetrate the armor on huge armored vehicles. It had no problem at all obliterating a few meters of the inner rail. It took all of the Khan's skills to keep the bike on track when he drove through the gap, he managed to keep things going. He passed the not-ambush at thundering speed and created another gap a kilometer downrange as not to face oncoming traffic.
Sea of Claws, close to Langeness Island
Svea simply knew that the monster out there was to get her, to take her away from her family and remake her in cruel ways. And there was nothing she could do about it, she could not move, could not scream, only watch.
The being made its way halfway across the yard before somebody stepped in his way.
He wore the same clothes, the face was still the same and still he was different. Herr Wednesday seemed bigger somehow, walked straighter and held a spear in his right hand. Herr Wednesday's voice was so easy to hear, as if he had spoken the words right next to her.
"Shouldn't there be a jolly guy about, ready to give gifts? Lost your master in the shuffle Ruprecht? Or has that part gone to this Shallya and has left you an orphan? Poor little thing, all alone in the dark, aren't you?"
There was a rumble and grunts that came from the being's throat, language it was not.
"Knecht Ruprecht, our time may both be over except for days like this one. We are both shadows of what we should be. And yet I tell you that you cannot have her."
There was more of the grunts.
"What she is to me? That should not matter to you, but I have this feeling that she might feast in my hall many years hence. So what it is going to be, do we go quietly into the night or do we dance?"
The spear had just been at Herr Wednesday's side, Svea had seen it there. How it came to be between the two she could not say, as she could not understand why but her heard the two.
The two beings looked at each other for a moment, then the monster faded away. Herr Wednesday turned around and watched her for a moment. He seemed to smile when she woke up.
She was at the window in a flash, but there was nothing outside, but for the empty yard. What a bloody dream, Herr Wednesday had gotten her good at the Christmas dinner.
Sea of Claws, close to Langeness Island
Jaghatai Khan knew he was watched, he just couldn't spot spot them. He saw a blinking light aloft at times, that might be a VTOL of some kind. He saw something that might be jet engines' exhaust, but whether the planes were concerned with his run he could not say. He had just demonstrated to the locals that he was far better armed than they had anticipated. He would wager good money that he had just exceeded the capabilities of the local law and that they he would now the military would take over. They could pose a real challenge and one he had to avoid at all costs. They might not be able to best him, far better than they had tried and failed. But they would slow him and that could be fatal. He was on a tight schedule and had no time to spend fighting.
The big question was what capabilities the military had, where they were and what their alert status was. It they were on a peacetime footing orders would have to be cut, munitions taken from storage and units formed up. Even rather professional armies would take a few hours for that and then he would be gone. But if this world was as dangerous as many he had known there might be planes with explosives on ready five alert on some runways, waiting to bomb his ass into next week. He did not have any intelligence that allowed for an estimate either way and that worried him.
On the other hand there was few time to worry, the road had been challenging enough. It had gone through the biggest inclines and sharpest curve's he had yet seen. He could not remember the last time when he had been driving 250 kph in a curve with one knee touching the ground. At one hill he had managed to crest it with such speed that his bike had flown more than a few meters and getting it under control at landing had been no mean feat. Riding at this speed needed all his experience, all of his attention and under any other circumstances it would have been a blast.
And driving like this had been the only thing that stood between him and disaster. It had taken him so close to the place where he could reenter the Webway that it was getting rather likely that he would be gone before the locals could mount a more forceful response.
10 minutes later the instrument on his tank indicated that his destination was ever more to the right of him. The road, the highway that had allowed him to reach his target it time to spare would no longer support him. There was no off-ramp, but another shot with the Melta allowed him to leave the highway at a place of his choosing.
There was a small, winding road that led through the woods that bordered the highway. He had to slow down considerably. He was close, so very close. Running into a tree or driving the bike into a ditch would not do now, especially as he had a bit of time. And it was rather unlikely the locals would ambush him here, he had left the road at a time and place of his choosing.
The flickering lights were the first indication that something was very wrong. He slowed down even more and made his way between the trees. He could see even less that way, but the quietness of his bike allowed him to listen. There were deep rumbles, the crack of shots and the chatter of rotor blades. There were also other sounds, pops that announced that air had just been displaced, the hiss of energy discharges and below that shouts and screaming. He had heard those sounds so many times before, they were like a jingle to welcome him back to where he belonged. He understood the noise well enough, could interpret it and a picture of the battle before him became ever clearer in his mind.
When he finally reached the forest's end he wasn't as surprised as he could have been. Only rarely had the Eldar tried to ambush him on this side of the Webway, normally they did not leave it as they feared Slaanesh's embrace. Here they had and the locals had found them before the Eldar found him. It had not been a peaceful encounter, which hardly surprised him. The Guardian's of the Webway were definitively of the shoot-forst-ask-questions-later kind and they would despise the mon-kays anyway.
By now there was a fully fledged fight on. There were no less than three Wraithknights towering over the battlefield like vengeful gods. They fired with fusion flames that stabbed into the darkness and nets that would cut any human into ground meat of they connected. The human-sized figure floated in the air, surrounded by a halo of light and lightning flicked from her hands, scouring the ground before her. Around her Eldar warriors shot streams of light at anything that moved.
There was a feeble rifle fire that rarely connected and was mostly ineffective when it did. Wherever a human dared to shot eldritch lightning and fire consumed him. Still, the fight was far from one-sided. Explosions raked the ranks of Eldar, showing where some artillery plied its trade. Behind Jaghatai a pair of VTOLs played a deadly game of hide-and-seek, popping up behind some ridge to fire a weapon or two and then disappear before return fire could kill them. The Khan knew that this would not last long, the Farseer would predict them sooner or later and they would die when they repeated the feat.
He was happy to see that at least one of the strikes had not been evaded by a holofield and had hit one of the Wraithknights enough to hurt. Some armored vehicle fired from a depression, its turret the only thing visible above ground. The first shot missed, but the second one went right into the Farseer's halo, extinguishing it for now. Several rockets rose from various places and showed they were guided when they followed the Wraithknights' movements. One seemed to stumble for a moment.
From what he saw the locals would lose quite a lot of the forces they had brought to the battlefield, but they would distract the Eldar enough. He would make the jump back to the Webway before the dandelion eaters even knew he was here and that would be that.
The Wraithknight was an impressive sight, half hidden in the kaleidoscope colors of his holofield. Its fusion guns would utterly vaporize any target it was aimed at and it was about to kill one of these pesky fliers that had wounded it so. The Farseer had already seen where it would emerge this time, reality just had to catch up to that and then the construct would avenge the wound it had received. Both arms were pointing in the direction they needed to be in a few seconds when the huge Wraithknight was briefly lit from behind. It seemed to have a halo or wings made of fire for a second. Then its torso exploded into so many shards, destroyed by a master-crafted Melta. The one to its side dropped when a leg was amputated by the same weapon. The third one turned on the spot to face the new danger when no less than four missiles from two helicopters entered its holofield. Two missed, two connected its flank and their shaped warheads bit deep into its side. The greenish tint to the explosions indicated that that pure chemistry was not the only thing in play and the Wraithknight dropped like a puppet bereft of its strings.
Two more armored vehicles emerged from the woods. They were armed with some sort of autocannon and raked the Eldar's ranks mercilessly. Soldiers followed them in, shooting at anything that moved.
Jaghatai Khan saluted them, even if he would not allow them to see him. They had earned his aid in this fight and he would remember this marvelous road for a long time. Whatever Autobahn meant, he liked it a lot. The flash of his disappearance was just one of many, it was unnoticed both by man and Eldar.
Jaghatai Khan was free to roam the Webway again, and by the map he had acquired with such efforts the exit to an Imperial world should be closer than ever
Sea of Claws, close to Langeness Island
The air had the crystal clear quality that had been the storm's parting gift. It was cold enough to tingle the airways and draft the color from Svea's face. She had awoken early, still disturbed by her nightmare. The rest of her family was still asleep, so she had put on her coat and decided to go on a walk to clear the cobwebs in her head away. She silently closed the door and made her way through the yard. That was when she saw the footprints in the mud. The heavy rain that had accompanied the storm had shifted enough mud on the yard to make them visible and they were the only set of tracks to be seen. One set ran more or less parallel to hers and reached from the house to the middle of the yard. The other came from the stables and looked slightly off. They were too deep and had sharp edges to them a boot would not leave.
Both tracks met in the middle of the year. None led from there.
Stargate, L3 point in orbit of the Warhammer World
The gate had nearly the same mass as the world that circled the sun on the same orbit on the opposite side. It was a short cylinder, several hundred meters long and a little more in diameter. Its walls seemed gossamer-thin from a distance, hardly fit to hold the ring together. The ring seemed to be featureless, but that was an illusion. It rotated at 48% of light speed, no details could be seen at such speed.
The seemingly thing walls were made from pure neutronium, a material so dense that a mere teaspoon of it had a mass of more than seven tons. So much mass moving at such speeds was something very powerful and it challenged the laws that ruled what humans thought as the real world considerably.
A silvery mass filled it, blocking what view into the gate was to be had. It had remained like this for more than 20,000 years. Now the silvery mass erupted with what looked like a lightning storm for the briefest of moments before a small, gray body emerged from it.
Why police try to intercept somebody who looked like chaos warrior? they should call for Army.
P.S if Farseer is woman, yoy could made "Love can bloom" with some german soldier.
Why police try to intercept somebody who looked like chaos warrior? they should call for Army.
P.S if Farseer is woman, yoy could made "Love can bloom" with some german soldier.
The police had to eyeball him before knowing he was more than a fast biker. Using the army in the interior is a major no-no in Germany, even if that has been changed in our TL. Still, the army needs far more time to get ready than any police force and their ready forces had their hands full with the Eldar incursion. As the Elder shot first making love, not war was out. And keeping a Farseer in Germany would change things in the wrong direction.
Oleg's house had been a hovel before, a place that barely kept the rain out and some of the warmth of a hearth in. It had been dark, drafty and dirty. And despite the many hours of work his Kislevites had put into that ice ship, and the many checks to ensure that neither ironmongery nor power tools leave the yard, the hovel had improved.
It actually improved to the point where it was a new house and nice at that. Perspex made for decent windows, leftover sheet metal had been welded into an oven, and foam was packed under the felts and sheets that made up beds. Silicone made sure that the windows were tight, and leftover packaging foils made the roof watertight.
Food containers meant for one-time use found a dozen-and-one uses in the house, and a small solar-powered battery lamp brought light to dark winter evenings. The table was set with delicacies from tin cans, with vegetables which tasted nearly fresh, meat that was not salted into oblivion and the marvelous potatoes.
Best of all, Oleg did not owe any Boyar a single kopeck. This house and 30 hectares of good land were his to do as he pleased. The barn held enough seed for two seasons, and there was enough money to buy animals in spring. Oleg had it made and felt better than he could remember in a long time.
He was lifting his plastic drinking vessel to savor a well-deserved ale when the door shook as someone pounded on it. Nobody should be out in this weather and on this holy day of no work, what in the Tzarina's name?
The door shook again, this was not the sort of problem that would go away. His wife was already shooing the younger kids into the second room while young Ivan reached for a club. Opening the door he found a middle-sized man covered with snow.
"Good evening Oleg. May I come in for a moment, it is a bit nippy outside."
"Err, certainly Boyar. Please come in, take a seat. May I ask what brings you out here at this hour?" Oleg steps aside as he shook off his surprise at seeing Jacob General.
"Oleg, would you like to have a tractor for each family in your settlement? Maybe a power station or a small harbor?"
"WHAT!?!" Oleg exclaimed in shock.
Chancellery, Berlin
The Security Cabinet were all looking at the slides projected on the wall. They depicted off-white and silver fragments of what might be weapons and other gear. The Secretary of Defense blinked several times as if trying to see better.
"What do you mean professor by 'no ordinary matter'?"
"Herr Minister, are you aware that anything solid around you in actuality contains a great lot of empty space?" the scientist asked.
"No, what do you mean by that?"
The professor stepped on his feeling of exasperation. Don't they teach basic science anymore in colleges?
"The table surface your hand rests on is an assembly of atoms. There is something solid in there, the atoms' cores, but they occupy the smallest amount of space. The rest is empty space in which the electrons move according to their energy states and chance. The electron shells in your hand and the ones in the table repel each other, and they break the light in ways that make them appear solid," he explained.
"Fine. So?"
"In these artifacts, something provides similar functions but electrons, neutrons, and protons they are not. Our two AIs never encountered such a material, but they offered theories based on Old One research. The most likely seems to be that this material is formed of standing waves of warp energy."
Uwe Junge blinked a couple of times.
"So you do not know, it is just a theory?"
"Herr Junge, to scientists 'theory' has a different meaning from what you are used to. It is currently the best explanation of a known phenomenon," the professor said with a hint of pique.
"Aha."
Both men looked at each in incomprehension.
"Professor Pforr, do you have any ideas where this might be from?" the minister asked, trying to steer the explanation towards the more practical matter at hand.
"There is only one explanation that fits the data we so far have, but the data is from a semi-reliable source. The Games Workshop stories about the Warhammer 40K Universe indicate that the Eldar uses a material called 'Wraithbone', that is said to be crystallized psychic energy. Given the two corpses we have in our possession, this seems to fit."
Junge blanched at the professor's words. He glanced around saw that he was not the only person who looked as if the swallowed something bitter.
"So you are saying that we have been visited by somebody from another universe, a fictional one to boot?"
This was when the Chancellor, Markus Söder, managed to get a word in. "Professor Pforr, could you leave us for a moment? Please remain on call if you would be so kind."
"Certainly."
A few moments later the German chancellor looked his defense minister in the eye.
"Uwe, we had encounters with what you call a fictional universe not once but twice already. The last encounter cost me the position you now have, and I know you were briefed about the first one."
Junge looked away from the chancellor after a moment.
"Yes, yes, I have been. So, if these were Eldar or even little green men from Mars, what do we do about that incident?"
Christian Lindner, by now the old hand in this cabinet, raised his voice.
"It seems to be over without too much damage, and we can certainly not sue this particular set of pointy ears. I would bury this one under the carpet."
"Are you always as callous when Germans have been killed?" Junge said bitingly.
"No, I grieve as well. But let us be realistic about this, most of the attackers are quite simply dead, and there is no way we can ask for restitution with the responsible party.
"They are in another universe, remember? And even if they were not, if these were really the Eldar, they would swallow us whole. We should be talking about what we can do if there is a repeat, and I think a lot of that will fall into your department," Lindner calmly said.
Taking a moment to compose himself, Junge spelled out the measures taken following the incident.
"I have put my staff on it. As an interim measure, the Luftwaffe will put some Typhoon fighter-bombers with air-to-ground ordnance on ready-five alert at several bases. They will be more survivable than helicopters and can carry heavier weapons. We are also looking into faster drones so that the first eyes on the ground are not human. Last, but not least, we are looking at smaller KEWs."
"Uwe, you want to use Rods from God on German soil?" Söder interrupted. "Why not nuke it altogether while you are about it?"
"Because KEWs have no fallout and are very hard to stop. We are currently looking at a dial-a-yield variant that can use aerobraking to adjust force as required. Something that gives us something between 0.1 and one kiloton. One of these would have wiped out the Eldar. And if you are right that the next ones might be their perverted cousins, then I want a bigger hammer, and anybody who is in their vicinity will be happy we have it." Junge carefully explained.
"For now, get the eggheads on it, and you can ask the Allstreitkräfte to make some if this works out. But their release is Cabinet-level only, get me Uwe?" the chancellor ordered.
"Yes, Markus."
"Good. I have been in far too many meetings where dire threats to Germany were mentioned. This is the first one where we have two at the same time, and this is the last time I want to have one of these. I could have asked the Allstreitkräfte to brief us, but the most knowledgeable being about these things seems to be one of our AI. We will establish a line to the AI Hypatia."
The screen before the cabinet filled with the cartoon of a middle-aged woman clad in a white robe.
"Greetings Chancellor Markus Söder. I take it this is this briefing you asked me to prepare?"
"Yes, Hypatia."
"Very well then."
The picture changed, showing a field of stars before the Stargate. The stars passing behind the gate seemed to move out of the camera's focus for a moment, became blurry strips before reforming when the point of view changed again.
"On Bäckertag 1, Nachhexen 23.45 Standard Time, the Stargate was used by an unidentified intruder. We cannot ascertain its place of origin with the primitive sensors available on the satellites that monitor the gate. We can only state that it was about 20 meters in length. It used a type of ion thrusters to accelerate from the gate."
The picture was blanked out by a flash, and when it reappeared a blurry shape could be seen accelerating away from the gate. Nothing seemed to happen for a second, then the picture was gone again to be replaced by one with a wider angle of view but certainly taken from farther away.
"Ten seconds after its emergence, the unidentified object destroyed the satellite Wächter 2 with an energy weapon. Wächter 3 filmed what happened next."
The object seemed to thrust in one direction, but something moved it from side to side, like a rat in the mouth of a terrier. It became longer briefly before disintegrating into many smaller parts.
"Immediately after the shooting, the object crossed a grav shear. It was obviously unable to withstand the stress and was destroyed."
"Why did that happen Hypatia?"
"Foreign Secretary Christian Lindner, the immediate space around the Gate undergoes something your scientists call "Frame Dragging" by the quickly rotating mass. Only specially constructed vehicles approaching carefully calculated courses can successfully approach the gate and transit. Whatever came from the gate was obviously neither sturdy enough nor communicated with the Gate's AI on both sides."
"Can you identify the intruder? Tell us something about them?" asked the foreign secretary (or insert the correct person if its not Lindner).
"My database is 22,500 years out of date, and nothing in there matches the data we received. Unfortunately, the sensors on your satellites are woefully primitive. So even if the intruder might match something in the databases, I might not be able to make a match."
"Is this the normal modus operandi of interstellar civilizations? Shoot first?" Junge asked with some concern.
"Secretary of Defense Uwe Junge, the AI you know as Nathan gave your predecessor a valid estimation. It is easily possible that an interested party sends probes through the gate every so often and looks for signs of industrial civilizations. The probe will only contact its builders only when such signs are detected.
"You provide a lot of such signals by now. In a good scenario, this will lead to a peaceful contact. In a neutral scenario, such a civilization will avoid contact. In a negative scenario, a hostile civilization will commit genocide before you can become a competitor. In the experience of the Old Ones, the likelihood of each scenario is roughly 18%, 43%, and 39%, respectively.
"Given that the intruder did not announce its intention and destroyed a satellite without attempting communications or any provocation from us, we have to assume the worse case is most likely. Given that you are a member of a barely space-faring civilization, this does not bode well for you."
Junge was not sure how he felt with Hypatia's answer. It is bad enough in the Warhammer world that the standard response to many situations involved the use of force. Now the AI is saying that so-called advanced civilizations have a tendency to shoot first because they don't like competition. So much for Star Trek and the 'we come in peace' school of science fiction.
"So what should we do?"
"This should be obvious even to you, Secretary of Defense Uwe Junge. Shut the gate down," the AI said dispassionately.
The Security Cabinet was silent, stunned by the AI's suggestion.
"How is that possible? I have been told that the gate works by its great mass and rotational speed. How do we shut something like this down?" the chancellor asked, breaking the silence.
"Now, that is a very good question Chancellor Markus Söder. As you have just seen, passage through this gate requires taking the right vector at the right time. Destruction is the most likely to occur in the case of an error, but not the least desirable. The universe seems to detest time travel, and we have no idea where those who use vectors which would result in what you call time travel will end up. No AI that pondered this question ever came up with an answer.
"To achieve a vector, the computers attached to each gate must exchange data on the local spatial topography which is subject to change. This communication can indicate that a safe passage is impossible or changed to vectors which leads to destruction. It is up to the user whether he communicates this. The gate as such is still usable, but the likelihood of a successful transit is very small."
"Can you communicate with this computer and apply these changes for now."
"Of course, Chancellor Markus Söder. The computer in the gate is a very simple one, without a persona of its own. I do believe the Old Ones who made it did not trust AIs completely and wanted to be able to control their supply route themselves."
Junge frowned as he digested Hypatia's answer, why wasn't this informed by the AI earlier?
"Do we know this already? That we could shut this thing down?"
"Secretary of Defense Uwe Junge, this information has been presented to the Security Cabinet for nine years and 345 days."
"How could they be so careless then? Why did they not do so then when so much is at stake. Were they all fell-gooders..." Junge growled.
"Uwe, shut up, there is no TV-camera present. The situation was a bit more complicated than that," Söder cut the defense minister's rising tirade off.
Junge glared at the chancellor but composed himself before continuing. "What could be more complicated than shutting down the worst threat to Germany right then and right there, pray tell?"
"Secretary of Defense Uwe Junge, the gate can only be shut down by a high-level AI in close proximity to the computer in question. The AI you know as Nathan might or might not be able to do so. He might succeed, but he might also send the computer in an anti-tampering mode which will make future attempts nearly impossible. This is why the expedition to Verda was undertaken to salvage me.
"Even when that was finished, the spaceships in your possession had a 41% chance of failure. This would have meant the loss of an AI irreplaceable to you as well as the loss of a crew. Given that there had been no recorded use of the gate for the last 22,500 years, the risks were seen as low. A logical decision based on the information available at the time."
"So what do you suggest we do in light of the changed circumstances, Hypatia?"
"Equip your most reliable spaceship, and fly me to the Star Gate. I will then shut it down for the time being. You may then reopen it when you feel your development warrants such a change."
All the heads around the table nodded, it was Markus Söder who spoke up.
"If you think you can do this then this is what we shall do."
Site Alpha, Kislev
The meeting room was a simple thing, with a table showing more coffee stains than fake wood grain, chairs that should really be discarded when the project was done and lights that were as bright as they were efficient and cold.
The beings around the table were divided into several groups. One was easily discernible as all of its members wore Kislevite clothing. Several other groups were more difficult to discern. They all wore modern garb, and most had a weathered look and lines on their skins that result from being outdoors regardless of the conditions. There were other subgroups too, even if the distinctions were harder to make. Fur-lined vests had become ubiquitous with the German heavy equipment operators during Leviathan's built. The slightly oil-stained jumpsuits were the tug crews' hallmark.
There were two, however, which held themselves apart from these. A middle-sized man who took the head of the table and a Kislevite woman that kept a bit of distance from everybody else.
Jacob General looked at the sparse notes before him. They seemed scrawny even to him and hardly a guide for what he had to do. They managed to mirror his thoughts just fine.
"Thank you for coming to this meeting at such short notice. Our principal has contacted me a few hours ago and asked whether I and everybody else at Site Alpha will be willing to accept another job. He stated that we fulfilled our contract in an exemplary manner but unforeseen circumstances have accelerated his timing to the point where he can no longer rely on recruiting others. As I have hinted, the new job entails more risks than the current one, but the rewards will reflect that."
"I am a simple Kislevite Bojar, can you..." a Kislevite spoke out.
"Thanks, Oleg, I needed that. Time to stop pussyfooting and bring all of you to the same level.
We built Leviathan for a group for mercs called the Wild Geese, that much should be known by everybody. What some of you do not know is what it will be used for. This ship is to cross the Great Ocean and assume a station close to Naggaroth. There it will be used as an offshore base for the mercenaries so they do not have to rely on the Druchii for basing or anything else," General announced.
"Aren't the Wild Geese in Germany's employ?" a German heavy weapons operator interjected.
General nodded at the man.
"I cannot say either way. Officially, definitely not. But given the money and tech put into this endeavor, I'd say some parts of the government must be aware and is doing nothing to stop it. I have been told that nothing we do will result in persecution for those who return to Germany.
What I do know for a fact is that the mercenaries need to be in Naggaroth quite a bit sooner than anticipated. And that means that the crew that was to be recruited, and the training program for the Wild Geese, will not happen."
"Boyar, are you saying…?" Oleg asked.
General looked at the crowd, gauging their mood.
"Yes, Oleg. I am saying that I want to recruit everybody at this table and their people to form Leviathan's crew. I do not care for the bloody Spitzohren nor the Chaos Stumpies. I do care that Naggaroth is too important a place and that the Reiksbund should have a say who governs there, in principle. I do not care enough to do it for free, but when I go back to Germany after this, the question is not whether I can afford a Porsche but whether I want one or two of them.
"And that is the offer on the table - if we accept this job and put in a year crewing Leviathan, then we are made men and woman," he told everyone with a smile.
The German weapons operator was the first to find his voice again. "You want to take us into a war zone Herr General?"
"Not at all." General shook his head. "I want to bring us not more than 20 klicks or so before the war zone, surrounded by the toughest mercs on the planet, with probably the best equipment outside the Reiksbund. A risk certainly. But to me, an acceptable one given the payout. Frau Morosov and the trawler crews agreed to this even before the situation changed. Now it is up to us. We built this thing, we can keep it running."
"Boyar, none of us knew anything about the sea? What use would we be?" a Kislevite objected.
"Your people built every room and passage and laid every cable and pipe on this ship. There is nobody better qualified to keep things running and none better able to make the modifications that will surely be necessary," General emphasized.
"Still, we are not warriors, and Naggaroth is a bad place to go. They say no one comes back from there," Oleg said, still worried about the risk.
"The Wild Geese will bring warriors aplenty Oleg. But they don't have anyone who has any idea how to run the ventilation system or have an inkling on what to do when the bloody latrine packs in. They'd be in pretty deep shit in more ways than one if that would happen, wouldn't you say? As for coming back, we are not going there as captives to be sold. We go in the mightiest ship ever built outside of the Reiksbund."
Oleg's beard made it hard to read his face, but it was still easy to see his unease.
"Oleg, you won't do it for the Spitzohren or the German government. You won't even do it for me. You, however, will do it for your wife and children so that they can afford decent medicine and good teachers. You will do it for your farms so that they have tractors, reapers, and balers. Come to think about it, you will do it for your back too. Think about it Oleg, no more dreading if the next harvest is a bad one or how many children will survive the next winter? Can you serve for those reasons?"
Oleg frowned in thought. Certainly, there are risks but then again, life before the Germans appeared and the new changes brought about by the Tzarina's was also full of risks, from Chaos raiders, arrogant boyars, hobgoblins and more.
"I need to talk to the people Boyar, I have to. Can I tell them you will lead us again?"
"I'd be proud to," General told Oleg with a smile.
"Then I believe I can bring a polk together, no more."
"That will be enough Oleg, see to it."
The same German who had spoken up made himself known again. "So what is in for us Herr General?"
A small folder was pushed across the table and opened after a second. The operator's eyes squinted all of a sudden, and his jaw dropped.
"Are you serious?"
"Our principal is."
"Then count us in."
"Good to hear. One problem down, 200 to go. Captains Scheer and Topp, I trust you have good first mates who can take over on your trawlers?
"Mine is solid."
"Mine also."
"Captain Scheer, if my memory serves you did a stint in the Bundesmarine, is that so?" asked General.
"Yes, I did."
"Fine then. Since I haven't the first clue about commanding a ship, she is yours. In the name of our principal, will you, Raimund Scheer, take command of Leviathan?"
"Uff." Scheer grunted. "Yes, I will. If I may ask, what will you be doing?"
"I think the job title is chief engineer, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. Herr General, you know that this is not how things are done? That a crew needs to be trained, and a chain of command established? That going to sea with a prototype ship never tested and manned by landlubbers might be a recipe for disaster?"
"Yes, that was pretty much what I told myself when I decided to tackle the project after the senior staff was killed. And still, landlubbers and untrained Kislevites managed to build this ship. We just have to make do."
Neu-Papenburg, same time
"It's not fair daddy, you just came back," a young girl stared at her father with big watery eyes.
"You promised…" a boy said, his voice breaking into a half-sob.
Heinrich and Julia are twins, and normally a lot better than this. Even worse, Nathan Alpers understood them just too well. He had just come back from his last deployment and had promised them a holiday on that sailing ship. He had looked forward to it himself which simply didn't change anything.
"You are right, both of you. It is not fair, and I did promise," Nathan sighed. "But something came up. Something really important, and I need to take care of it."
"What is so important daddy?" Julia demanded.
"I am sorry honey, but I can't tell you."
"Something like those satellites you took down?"
"Sorry Julia, I really can't say. It is just that I wouldn't go if the matter was not really, really important," said Nathan as he hugged his little girl.
"Scheiße," Heinrich cursed.
"Don't let mother hear that Heinrich or she will wash your mouth with soap, but I can't agree more."
"How long will you be gone then, daddy?"
"I don't know for sure. If things go wrong, nine months or so."
That was when both started to cry. Nathan closed his eyes and held his two children close.
Sea of Malice, close to Hag Graef
The Sea of Malice was of the darkest green, and what foam formed on top of the waves just served as a contrast that deepened the darkness. Gray clouds raced across the sky and masked the palest of suns. A fleet of ungainly vessels made their way through the sea, forcing their blunt bows through the waves. The middle section was taken by stubby freighters carrying a multitude of landing craft fastened to their sides. The flanks and vanguard were taken by armored ships armed with all kinds of huge cannons.
The DawiZharr dreadnought was as ugly as a ship could be, looking top-heavy and misshapen. And that was when one looked at it through mundane eyes. To those with the ability to look at it from the empyrean, its physical shape was pure beauty compared to the wretched sight it showed in the warp. Something ugly resided deep in its belly, the avatar of a fell god, and it fed on the pain and suffering of sentients. In turn, it gave off heat in copious amounts, powering the dreadnought's twin screws via enormous triple-expansion engines.
The fleet was slowly making its way into the bay that led to the city of Hag Graef. The high spires stood proud above the mists that hid the rest of the city like a shroud. There would be high walls and more towers, adorned in spikes and bearing loopholes, catapults, and low-powered cannon. Hag Graef's fortifications had served the city well for millennia, now these proud defenses are next to useless.
The dreadnought's crew attentively watched the sea around them and the sky above. The Spitzohren had shown a couple of nasty surprises, and Mordred's chosen would not be caught unaware.
The ship's bow wave pushed the object away but not very far. The displacement just meant that it barely caught the dreadnought's side and merely brushed against it. This was still enough to bend one of the horns that protruded from it. Inside the horn, two chemicals that had been separated ever since it had been assembled mixed and reacted violently. This triggered a small charge that fired into the object, where it found a rather large amount of explosives.
The mine's detonation threw up a column of water that rose far above the ship's superstructure. The explosion pushed against the dreadnought's side and caving in the hull as if it was made from paper. When the fury of the explosion subsided, the seawater rushed back into the space it had been expelled from. Water gushed into the ship like a horizontal waterfall, flooding too many compartments at once.
Eventually, the water alone would sink the ship from sheer mass alone, but it never got that chance. When the cold water hit the reactor vessel in the ship's belly, it cracked the pressure vessel like it was made from glass.
The ensuing explosion left few survivors, fewer escaped the hypothermia that killed even the stout DawiZharr in mere minutes.
cloing Gate is only logical step to save that story.Even minor xeno power from WH40 would crush them easily.Well,they could be annexed by IoM or Tau, but that would be as boring as being eaten by Nids.
Please continue.
cloing Gate is only logical step to save that story.Even minor xeno power from WH40 would crush them easily.Well,they could be annexed by IoM or Tau, but that would be as boring as being eaten by Nids.
Please continue.
Clsoing the Gate is necessary as any starfaring civilization would be a severe threat to the Reiksbund. Yet the Gate does not lead to the WH40K universe, it keeps the same as the one the Warhammer Fantasy World is in. Question is: What IS hiding out there. And I do believe I have a small surprise...
So there are TWO threats from outer space? Well, I exlude the Warp and the WH gods here. And indeed both were already introduced. One by the appearance of now two primarchs. That they used WH world only shows, they are a possible danger as well. As well as the dangers of their universe. And the other threat was also mentioned in a christmas special, as it was said, in a small view into the distant future, that a space cruiser called Emden came back after an engagement with an enemy.
BTW, the Old Ones can't be this enemy, as they knew, how to use the stargate.
It seems, the DawiZharr didn't think about mines as a counter. Oopsi!
Sorry for the delay folks, there is something that occupies most of us in unfortunate ways. I would normally say it will be better from now on, but predictions have a short half-life these days. Today Ernutan Doomshackler finds burning love, we learn that there are pitfalls for the Asur in Germany, Leviathan leaves snake's trails and Beer shows us a bit about the Schools of Magic.
20 Kilometers from Hag Graef, Naggaroth
Ernutan Doomshackler's harsh mistress had developed a soft side, combining her welcoming embrace with treachery. If Ernutan would have dropped into the hard ground that was below the snow he would have abraded his knees, elbows and hands. Now it felt like childlike fun, but the depression he made in the snow would protect him less than a sand castle. At least it made him less visible, which was a blessed thing already. The reason for his rapid re-acquaintance with his mistress was barely visible from his vantage point and was screaming in pain. His wireless operator had walked behind him and still some never-sufficiently-damned dandelion eater had put a bullet into his crotch.
Ernutan would gladly feed the Germans who had given modern rifles to the Druchii into Hashut's fires. Their old-style troops used repeating crossbows, good for a hundred meters or so. They were plenty lethal when their poisoned bolts hit anything, but they were pretty useless past a hundred meters or so. Some of those who had received rifles had reached a nasty proficiency with them, combined with a near-magical talent for camouflage. There were rumors that some of these snipers were Assassins, but nobody had discovered the truth of that. No matter if that rumor was true or some pasty-faced elf had the perfect eye, by now nobody would try to rescue the victim. He was not dead for a reason, the sniper waited for any weak fool to come to the rescue so that he could kill them. He would be denied that satisfaction, the true Dwarfs were better than that.
These sniper ambushes had been frequent enough that an organized, quick response came without Ernutan needing to order it. A couple of smoke grenades dropped around the screaming wireless operator, hiding him from view. A team of Mordred's finest dashed into the cloud and emerged after less than 30 seconds. One carried the priceless wireless set, another carried a knife that dripped red into the snow. Doomshackler approved, the wireless was important, the soldier would have taken days to die while taking up resources.
Ernutan used his binoculars to scan the ground before him, identifying several likely spots. The new wireless operator relayed his suspicions and a couple of mortars dropped a dozen rounds each into the likely hiding spots. Doomshackler would never learn if they hit anything, but the point Dawi were not shot at when they carefully made their way ten minutes later.
Ever since the DawiZharr had landed at a bay far enough from Hag Graef to be free of mines Mordred's chosen had been harried by snipers and occasional mortar fire. The latter had stopped when the enemy could not retreat fast enough in the face of his light Battlemechs. The snipers were not so easily killed and more numerous. He would have to take the losses and continue, there was no other way. He had given his solemn promise to Lord Mordred himself and he would not be found wanting.
It was an hour later that the Vulture mech passed through one of the narrow passages between the shore and the foothills that marked the beginning of a mountain range. A platoon had already passed the obvious ambush spot, finding a whole lot of nothing. Now a muffled explosion threw up soil, snow and mech parts. The Battlemech teetered on one leg for a moment before falling flat on its scrawny chest. Another explosion threw its upper body upwards for a moment before it came to a rest. It would not rise again.
Ernutan discovered he still had the power to swear and ordered his sappers forward. Once they started digging in the snow the sharp report of another sniper rifle could be heard, dropping a DawiZharr where it stood. This had long day written all over it.
Berlin
Germany had been good to Lisriel of the House of Ethelorne, too good in some ways. She had taken an Erasmus grant and taken up studies in chemistry when her mad granduncle Aurelius had hinted that this might open doors for her in the future. It would further the true elven cause when she learned more about the mundane world, that was for sure. It also opened her mind to a surge of new ideas, something that was going to bring trouble and unrest to her people as well. By now she thought this was exactly what the Asur needed.
Germany had also offered her access to other things, things that did her nor the Asur any good and that she could no longer do without. She knew that they were bad for her, she could see the changes in the mirror easily enough and yet she was still unable to restrain herself. And in moderate doses things were not bad, actually healthy, were they not?
They were, but probably not in the amounts she indulged in. And this stuff was expensive, far too expensive for her meager means, still she could not bear being without them. She had to do something to earn that money and an opportunity had sprung up. This "modeling" thing had not sounded too bad until she saw what they entailed. She really had to hope that her family never found out about that, they would throw her out on her ear in a minute. On the other hand, the job turned out to be a guilty pleasure. That she could be enticing to anybody in her current stage was inconceivable to her, but the very fact that this was so raised her spirits.
Still, it would have been far better that she had neither gotten to know neither Lind pralines nor Niederegger and Marzipan.
The wind pushed snow into Isilvar Darkmoon's face and left cold rivulets that made their way down into the Druchii's coat. He ignored them, like he ignored anything else around him except for the picture in his binoculars.
The landscape before Isilvar was nearly featureless under a layer of white, pristine snow. Darkmoon knew that the lesser races tended to use such snow for fun and games. The Druchii knew better, the snow was the sign of an eternal enemy. It covered the ground like a burial shroud, hiding the ravages Nagaroth's winter inflicted on all living things. It knew neither friend nor foe, had no allies and no favorites. It simply killed the weak, the careless, those without resources, and anybody exiled into its cold embrace. It was beautiful, like an assassin's blade. Until very recently it either confined the true elves into their cities and fortifications or drove them on their long raids abroad.
And yet the elemental threat of Naggaroth's winter was the least dangerous thing in Isilvar's sight. Small dots of off-white moving deliberately towards Hag Graef had been the first signs. The ugly shapes of Golems crested the ridge-line behind them and more infantry followed in their wake. The most ominous sight were the cannons pulled by more Golems. That was bad, very bad indeed. Hag Graef's walls had withstood many an attempt storming them. The Germans had shown Malus Darkblade how useless they were in the face of modern arms and other Germans had taught ways for how to build better defenses. Given the price of the lesson taught by the German raid, Hag Graef's ruler had been eager to implement these lessons when others were still lamenting their cost and aesthetic deficiencies.
The same lesson had made Malus take another gamble, one that would either make or break him. All Druchii rulers clamored for Neustadt arms, they were the only means to defend against DawiZharr and Druchii alike. Meting out these weapons to the various Lords was a way Malekith could exert his power in a society where having no power was just deadly when one was lucky.
Malus Darkblade was Malekith's chosen general, the tip of his spear and the face of his shield against the Chaos invasion from the Chaos desert. Malekith regarded these troops as his warriors and had equipped them lavishly with Torsten Breitkop's best equipment. It was just that some of that equipment was not with Malekith's army in the north, it was right here in Hag Graef. And by the looks of it, Isilvar Darkmoon would need every rifle, every cannon and every round that had been siphoned from the Witch King. If he survived the coming siege he could worry about that, but not before.
Leviathan, 128 kilometers from Site Alpha
Raimund Scheer tried to watch the bridge crew, the course, and the radar at the same time. On Nordsee he could allow himself to relax far more, here a crew thrown together at the last minute tried to master systems and a ship new to all. That the ship was experimental and many systems needed pampering did not improve this in any way. He watched Leviathan's wake with disgust, it was supposed to be a straight line and not resemble a snake's track. As much as he would have liked to have the helmsman get the hang of it himself, interfering seemed the lesser evil.
"Helm, ease your rudder to right five degrees . Nordsee, indicate 108 rpm, 20% pitch."
"Meet her, Aye. Coming to new course 260 Nordsee 108 RPM at 20%, aye."
Raimund Scheer watched the compass needle move to the desired course imperceptibly. The ice ship had yet to reach 260 degree, but he had already given the order to counter-steer. This ship had such momentum that everything had to be planned ahead by ages. Scheer had seen Seeadler a couple of times, the converted container freighter being a brute of 170,000 tons. Here he was commanding something three times its size.
It made any course change an exercise in boredom and he was pretty sure he could tear off a calendar page before Leviathan reached its projected top speed which was certainly not fit to write home about. Given the comparatively low power compared to the ship's size and the broad beam anything else would need magic and that played already a far too big role on this vessel.
The ship did not react much to wind, the superstructure being rather minuscule compared to the huge hull which was really deep in the water. It turned away from the seas quickly, for whatever values of quick applied to this megatub. One good thing that could be said about the ice ship was that it was easy on the roll and seasickness was not a real problem, yet.
And then he saw that the compass needle was still moving despite the earlier rudder and power shift.
"Bow thruster 50% to port."
"Bow thruster 50% to port aye." Leviathan still passed 260 and settled on 262, damn. He managed to keep his annoyance and frustration from his voice, but barely.
"Helm, "Left full rudder, Come to new course 260. Handsomely, Klauensee indicate 108 RPM at 20% pitch"
He and the bridge crew would better get a hold on this pronto. In very few days a series of ships would start docking with Leviathan, and then holding course would be even more vital than usual.
Before Hag Graef
Ernutan Doomshackler hated what he saw, but disliked what he did not see even more. The background to his view was provided by the slender high walls of Hag Graef, of obsidian blackness, topped by menacing spikes and towers. Those would fall quickly enough once the artillery started working on their foundations. As a bonus they would bury those defenders behind battlements under tons of rubble which would provide a nice ramp through the moat into the city. So Lord Mordred had taught his chosen and so it had proven to be, praise be to Lord Mordred.
He could also see the barbed wire which was strung out a hundred meters before the walls, a crisscrossing net held up by poles. There were sharpened spikes mixed with these and Doomshackler was sure that whoever erected that belt would have wanted more wire. Still, it would be a rather nasty obstacle for infantry by itself. There were defenders who would shoot anybody who tried to remove the wire, he just could not see them. He could see trenches and some snowy mounds were a bit too conveniently placed to be natural. If the defenders had rifles and machine guns this could become bloody right quick.
He could clear a path through the wire with his Battlemechs easily enough. They would also provide some mobile cover for his warriors. But if the dandelion eaters had one or more of their anti-mech guns then this too could become a killing ground, especially when the Mechs slowed down to trample the wire properly. And he could afford to lose Mechs even less than he could waste warriors. Decisions, decisions….
Kopernikus Station, Orbit around the Warhammer World
The sight from the viewport was nothing short of spectacular. A tapestry of unblinking stars provided a background for a spaceship unlike any other docked at the space station. While spacecraft that operated exclusively in orbit and beyond showed their girders, tanks, tubes, and pods to the world without any cover, this one was different. It had long, bulky plates on both sides of the hull, giving it a smooth look from this aspect. Two centrifuges managed to crest them, a couple of sensors stuck out, but otherwise it seemed much simpler than its cousins. Several off-colored patches in the long plates indicated where the phased array radars were mounted. This was not as if the spaceship had any way to enter atmosphere in any other way than as a flaming comet. The plates were armor and the ship needed them as it was the first human space warship.
There was a name on the armor, currently lit by a couple of working lights. Morgenstern (Morning Star)
The view was taken in by a few humans, a dwarf and something that looked like a large, solidly built suitcase with a monitor on it.
The voice from the speaker was without inflection, the face shown in the monitor on Hypatia's travel case emotionless. By now she still managed to grate on everybody's nerves.
"Oberstleutnant Nathan Alpers, are you telling me that this is the most reliable ship you have?"
"Yes Hypatia, it is the best we have. It makes use of all we learned in the last decade and also uses a lot of the hints provided by you and Nathan."
"So, you do not understand half the systems on it."
"And neither do you as some of our most important systems are based on magic. The last update brought us to four Tungsten Rune of Fire engines, another Kislevite heat sink and the Gold Order reinforced the whipple shields. We installed a VASIMIR engine to take advantage of the increased power generation. You wrote the software for the APAR radar system yourself if I remember correctly."
"So, you believe that a spaceship that is hard pressed to reach one G of acceleration, that is armed with chemically powered missiles, some recoilless guns and a laser that won't boil water at any distance will be able to protect us?"
"We won't know it till we try it. Since we got our orders that we will."
Before Hag Graef, Naggaroth
The sky above Hag Graef was glorious, with hundreds of stars visible against the back ground of the local galaxy. None of the moons were up at present, allowing for the best star gazing to be had. None of those present had any eye for it though. Ernutan Dommshackler's mistress love was burning, at least that was how the snow felt in the fierce Naggaroth winter. He had buried himself inside that burning snow as much as possible. Lesser races would find the darkness of the night impenetrable, but both the true dwarfs and the Druchii were better than that. Frostbite was a nasty killer, but not as dangerous as the dandelion eaters and their blasted rifles. And so close to Hag Graef's walls they were a lesser threat to the machine guns and mortars. Showing oneself for any length of time would bring a swifter death than the cold could.
His binoculars had acquired a shade above them that would keep the glasses from reflecting too much light and he breathed inside a shawl that would hopefully keep clouds from forming. He could see the breach in the wall from here, it was hard to miss. They had been made from Obsidian, such a hard material. Hard and brittle. When the specially made projectiles had pierced the foundations and exploded it had fractured immediately. Less than a day of bombardment left this part of the wall resting on rubble and it had gone down in a satisfying crash. In the old days that would have been a major achievement and storming the breach would have followed immediately. Yet the barbed wire would stop his warriors as well as any wall ever built. His mechs would stomp the wire into the ground, but the enemy had shown that he had emplaced mines which could bring the war machines down. The gaunt figure of a Vulcan bore mute testimony of that, lying 50 meters before the wire.
His warriors could find and destroy the mines, but they would do that under the fire of the dandelion eaters. He did not have that many sappers and he would need every one of them in the coming fight. So, he had gone with stratagems he had found in a German book, a gift from Lord Mordred himself. They were totally untested by the true dwarfs and his opportunities to train with them before they were used when the red wine was served were strictly limited. He embraced his mistress even deeper when the hammer of artillery fire assaulted his ears.
Fire blossomed on the Druchii walls, cracking obsidian and throwing splinters that were a lot sharper than any razor. Mortars dropped high explosive shells close to and into the trenches before Hag Graef, hopefully killing at least some defenders. Hidden by the sound and fury other shells detonated high above the battlefield. The explosions were muted things, inaudible in the general din of the battle. The darkness managed to hide the streamers that dropped from them for a moment until they blocked the stars and then all sight. The shells were rare and expensive, their manufacture regularly killed skilled slaves and true dwarfs alike. Their results were worth it. Pieces of white phosphorous were exposed to the cold air and ignited immediately. They produced a thick, white smoke that streamed downwards. Where they touched the ground they formed a dense fog that filled every trench and depression. Ernutan could not see inside the Druchii fortifications, but he could imagine the bombardment's effects. Whoever was unfortunate enough to be hit by a burning fragment would wish he'd died as the fire could not be extinguished. Everybody else would be disoriented and cut off by anybody at less than arm's length. Even worse, they would have a very hard time breathing. The true dwarfs might stand this, they were doubly blessed by Hashut and Lord Mordred. They were also used to the smoke rising from the countless fires burning in ZharrNaggrund. The dandelion eaters were not and they would suffer.
Still there was fire coming from both the walls and some emplacements along the Druchii lines. Machine guns could deny terrain, whether the crews could see their targets or not. Still, most of it was too high to hit Ernutan's warriors that crawled towards the enemy. Most of them tried their best to keep their weapons free from the snow, other pulled and pushed on tubes. When they finally reached the first wire strands most warriors tried to become one with the ground while others pushed the tubes under the wire. When one had disappeared another was fastened to its end and the lengthened construct pushed further.
All around them the true dwarfs suffered. Druchii mortars were trying to find the range, dropping their hate among DawiZharr who could do nothing but cling to the ground and hope. Bullet streams mostly passed over their heads, leaving a whizzing sound in their wake that promised mutilation and death. Others found their targets, turning promise into reality. And while Doomshackler's warriors bled and died his sappers cursed, wrestled with gear they hardly knew and pushed for all they were worth. Finally, they managed to put wires into their creations and the survivors crawled backwards.
When Ernutan was sure that there would not be any more survivors he lifted his weapon up high and squeezed the trigger. The weapon had not much of a recoil, but a fiery trail pointed an accusating finger at him. Before any retribution could come his way a red star blossomed in the sky, painting the battlefield in a baleful light that reminded Ernutan of home.
The explosions were powerful, hammering the ground against his chest. Even the smoke would not contain their fury, blurred blossoms made their way past the many particles in the air. When their rumbles subsided the mortars' fire shifted deeper into the smoky gloom. The ringing in Ernutan's ears could not mask the pipe's shriek. It drove the vanguard up from the trench closest to the wire. They wore no armor as that would slow them down and carried little equipment aside from shotguns and hand grenades. They vanished in the smoke as if they never existed and Doomshackler doubted that he would see many of them again. Given that the vanguard consisted of the regiment's current fuck-ups, of those who did not love Lord Mordred with all their heart and those who had pissed their superiors off enough he had few regrets about that.
The smoke swallowed all sight, but the small arms fire was loud enough to allow an estimate of their position. A green flare this time, it got the mortar section to shift their fire. Ernutan was pretty sure they would have killed some DawiZharr, but probably allowed them to close with the enemy. A few own goals went a long way towards victory, or so Lord Mordred's lore claimed.
By now the smoke had subsided enough that he could see the barbed wire again. Where his sappers had pushed the pipes that his book had called "Bangalore Torpedoes" for some reason the wire was gone, dropped elsewhere. Some additional craters indicated where mines had joined the demolition, others had been thrown aside. Now he had a clear path to the bridge, now he could send in his regiment for real under cover of the Battlemechs.
Rising from his mistress' embrace he brandished his flare gun for all to see.
"Forward, forward for Hashut and Lord Mordred. Take the city."
Close to Sage 17
Nathan Alpers had been the first human to see the Old One refueling station and the shuttle with his own eyes not so many years ago. Things had changed since then. The Old One shuttle had been towed much closer to Kopernikus station where it was intensely studied. A lot of the old plumbing had been removed and replaced by a far more clunky and less efficient set of gear made by humans. Tugs would bring tanks full of water and bring the empty tanks back to the solar smelters which rendered some celestial bodies for all they were worth. Gantries and robotic arms were attached to the station, allowing space ships to dock and take on propellant.
Sighing the astronaut pulled himself from the view and pushed the button before him.
"Crew, this is the captain. Station check."
"Captain, this is engineering. All systems nominal." By now Nathan did not even register Bashurr's Bavarian accent.
"Navigation, check. Course laid in, we are ready to go." Erik Bär had no discernible accent, but at least as much time in space as any other human one cared to name.
"Sensors, telescope and parabolic array stowed, we are good to go." Frank Herbert, the closest thing to a new guy Morgenstern's crew had.
"Weapons, all systems nominal, ammo at 100%." Svea Rausch had surpassed her aunt`s footsteps considerably.
"Sick bay ready, pillars working" Irina Kosava was no longer the only Ice Mage in space, but by far the most experienced one.
Silence. Nathan silently counted to ten before engaging the mike again.
"Hypatia, how is your status?"
"Oberstleutnant Nathan Alpers, how else could it be but operational and what would you do if it were not?"
"Please keep communication protocols Hypatia, thank you very much."
Nathan had to swallow twice before he trusted his voice again.
"Very well. Kopernikus Station, this is Morgenstern. All stations confirm readiness, we are good to go."
"Morgenstern, Kopernikus. Solid copy on readiness, mission is a go. Godspeed Morgenstern."
"Kopernikus, copy mission is a go. Nav, execute."
Erik Bär told the computer to do its thing, but not much could be felt but a slight push in their behinds . The Vasimir drive did not provide much power, but it used even less fuel than the Rune of Fire engines that would be used for more energetic maneuvering.
Morgenstern had a great distance to travel and not much time to do so. Naturally, the ship slowed down to do so. Accelerating would have meant that going for a higher orbit which would take much longer to orbit the sun. Instead Morgenstern scrubbed some five kilometers per second from the velocity it needed to stay in this orbit. It dropped towards the sun as it did so and would cross Deiamol's orbit as it went. It would still take months to reach the stargate that way and it would tax Morgenstern's heat sinks. Still it was the fastest way the ship and its crew could reach their target.
Ottokar Proktor´s living room
Even a man like Ottokar Proktor had some free time. Less than he might have wanted, but free time nevertheless. So when he sat down in his prefered wingchair, there were two things he wanted to read. The first was the new book of the popular "Gräfin von Hagendorf" (Countess of Hagendorf) crime novel series, which was set in the Empire and Germany, the latter was a report on the situation concerning Magic.
To get the work-related stuff out of the way, Ottokar started with the report. First the Empire. The Academies of Altdorf might be the most prestigious institutes of magical learning in the Old World, but they were not the only ones. There were other schools, academies, colleges of Magic in Karl Franz's realm, not to speak of various private mentors.
Of comparable prestige to the Altdorf colleges was Middenheim´s Wizards and Alchemists Guild, which had been the premier Imperial Academy before Teclis came to the Old World. Since the events following the Weltensprung invigorated magical research, the Middenheim Guild had begun to regain the renown which had been lost after the establishment of the Colour Academies.
While the Middenheimers had a less deep well of Colour magical knowledge than the Altdorfers, they had a vast corpus of Petty and "standard" Arcane Magic dating back millennia and expanding continuously these days. Not for nothing they had a sterling reputation for being great "Allrounders". While only their best could unleash powers comparable to those of the Color Academies in the capital, there was not much which could catch a Middenheimer on the wrong foot.
Talabheim´s main college of magical learning, one of the oldest in the Empire, was not on the same level of reknown as the institutes in Altdorf and Middenheim, but had an exemplary reputation in the Talabheim region. This was thanks to their unfailing service for Talabheim, they were looked at with far less distrust than other wizards in the old days. These days the local wizards were something akin to praised heroes and VIPs.
One of the largest changes wrought by the Weltensprung concerned the Nuln University Faculty of Magic. In the old days, the main attributes were being a training school for those wanting to go to Altdorf and a fierce rivalry with the nearby Eldritsch University for Elemental Magic.
Dekan Maria Glockenspiel used the new era with its massive changes for the Empire to totally revamp the curriculum (And upstage their rivals in one swoop as well).
These days the Faculty churned out specialists for the Armed Forces, with an eye towards cooperation with firearms and artillery. "With gunpowder and soulfire" is something of the official motto. This amalgam of combat mage, engineer and artillerist is in high demand throughout the Empire. And not only there, the Bundeswehr had several "Nulner" in its employ and together with Altdorf and Middenheim they were a primary location for Germans studying in the Empire.
The list of "average", standard colleges of magic in the Empire was quite a bit longer, but Ottokar could guess the results of the report on those. Solid, dependable, but nothing outstanding.
Instead Germany´s Spymaster searched explicitly for the minor or eccentric schools, since there would be the interesting news to find.
And Ottokar was not let down. The Empire sure had its share of "colorful" schools and colleges.
One of the most interesting ones was the Einzelheit College of Magic in the small city of Ravenstein. While the reputation of old was not the best, a college full of magic learners even other wizards considered eccentric, it stood out in many ways for a man like Ottokar.
In the old days, it had been the only official institute sanctioned to grant licenses to hedge wizards learning there. That alone was remarkable!
And still today the number of individualist or eccentric wizards there was exceptionally high. Even if there was now competition for this position by the new Von Carstein School of Magic, the official Sylvanian institute for magical research and learning in Drakenhof (City).
Ottokar was sure that the Einzelheit School was one of the go to places for unusual or rare magic. And not only him. In the last few years Germans and other Imperials searching for magic outside the standard avenues of research went to Einzelheit for it.
This led to more interest and observation by the States involved as well. Today the Einzelheit College was in modernized buildings and growing. It was a minor shock for School Head Heidi Eriksdottar and her husband when four years ago for the first time in ages, and continuously since, they got invitations as representatives for Einzelheit to the yearly Convention of all School Heads for Magic in Altdorf.
Reading about the next school brought a little smile of amusement to Ottokar´s lips. This institute surely made the Imperial officials unsure of what to think. The Empire´s newest major center of magical learning and research easily led people to assumptions.
Among the large, renown, in good standing, and officially sanctioned institutes the Von Carstein School of Magic was easily the most notorious. It had wrestled that title from Einzelheit without even trying. Rumors about the supposed topics, teaching staff, guests, and other things abounded in both Germany and the Empire. Ottokar knew that some of the gossip delighted and amused Manfred von Carstein and others to no end.
The Elector-Count of Sylvania found it splendid that despite the heavy-duty gossiping about the young School everywhere, the prestige of it among those well-versed in magical knowledge or arts was steadily climbing and already stood far above the likes of the laughed about College of Noble Sorcery or the renowned, but obscure Öbelstein School.
Ottokar knew from his sources, that while some gossip was actually true, the School was well away from some of the darker rumours. While being watched by several institutions, both Berlin and Altdorf knew that having many of the "colorful" sorcerers of both nations in one place was far easier and additionally the school did useful research on enemies and their "arts".
The school had some leeway about who was let in or taught stuff and some of the knowledge you could not officially get elsewhere at all, but there were limits. Von Carstein with his full coffers was busy polishing the reputation of Sylvania. To what ends would be seen, but he had reaffirmed the allegiance of his family and realm to Altdorf and the Empire.
Nobody could deny that despite the youth of the institute, they were already responsible for several breakthroughs and many students or sorcerers furthering their own knowledge there, became shockingly competent medics. Despite the gossip surrounding them, meanwhile many emergency services tried to hire Drakenhofer graduates.
Another great update. I only hope the Druchii can stand the test against the "True Dwarves".
BTW, a question about the Christmas special. There the WH40K Elves attacked the Germans without a real reason, at least I don't see them. Why? What's the background?
Another great update. I only hope the Druchii can stand the test against the "True Dwarves".
BTW, a question about the Christmas special. There the WH40K Elves attacked the Germans without a real reason, at least I don't see them. Why? What's the background?
Druchii and the DawiZharr: "The only way to win this game is not to play..." Unfortunetely the match has already started.
Christmas Special:
Did not think too much about it when I write it, but in my mind the Eldar show up in Germany to intercept the Khan. The Bundeswehr sends a helo or a fighter-bomber for a Recce and that uses radar or Laser to have a better look. Eldar see this as target acquisition and react accodingly. Or they received German television, watched an episode of DSDS and decided to go on an Exterminatus, which would be understandable.
The rules of the Free Harbor are comparatively simple: Bring in what you want, you do not have to stop at customs. If you need confirmation on the other side of the trip your cargo will be inspected, containers sealed and documents signed. If you want to bring something from the harbor you better have your documents in a row or the German bureaucracy will be on to you. By now the customs officers were used to checking documents written on vellum and bearing elaborate seals, inscribed into clay tablets or those that spoke to them. They did draw a line at knotted Quippus though and by far preferred cargo that had been processed by the net of Free Harbors that spanned the world.
The truck passed the customs gate at Zweibrückenstrasse without stopping. It was a low-sided truck heavily loaded with something hidden by a combination of wooden sides and tarpaulins on top. The truck left the trailer on a vast parking spot with a host of similar vehicles. They would be pulled into a Ro-Ro freighter bound for Kislev and could be offloaded very quickly there. The trailer parked in a spot next to the road connecting several such lots and trucks passed by it all day. One of them was gong a bit faster than the others. The container on the truck was quite heavy, but had not been leashed properly to the truck. "It is only from shed 50 to shed 67, what could possibly go wrong?"
A combination of being a tad too fast, tires which could really stand a bit more pressure, and a pothole showed what could go wrong, which was quite a lot. The truck tilted to the outside of the curve when a wheel hit the pothole and exacerbated the movement. The container had just been set on the trailer so that its eyelets met the bolts of the truck. They had not been secured and that meant that they could lift off the truck when it started to go down again.
The truck driver saw the movement in his rear mirror and was about to scream "Scheisse" when the container collided with the low-slung trailer to the side. It crushed some of the wooden sides and ripped a large part of the tarpaulin off.
He needed a few seconds to collect himself before he made it out. All thoughts of what story he was going to present to his superiors escaped when he saw what had been hidden under the tarp so far.
The truck driver had done his stint in the army a few years ago, that was where he received his driving license. But he had not seen guns like the one on the trailer before him then or ever since. The police and customs managed to sweep things under the table a bit later when they learned that the pieces were meant for the Kislevite government. Given that both were mildly pissed about having not been informed they delayed the release to the point where it missed the closing date of the vessel they were meant for.
Hag Graef, Naggaroth
"Take the city."
Oh yes, somebody was taking it, in the behind, but who got buggered the most was an open question. Ernutan Doomshackler had thought that this city would fall like Karond Kar. Once the walls had been breached, once the Battlemechs had been let loose inside the city the defenders had deserted the walls. They had fled back into the city, back to their home and hearth to somehow save their family, their riches or their lives. By destroying any semblance of organized defense, they had lost all of that.
None of that had happened here and he would not be too surprised if it had not been planned that way. Some of his vanguard had made it through the breech in Hag Graef's walls, just to find themselves hemmed in by a hastily constructed semi-circular barricade. There they had been wasted by rifle fire and grenades. The barricade had yielded to a combined assault of Battlemechs and infantry. Two of the Mechs had yielded to mines in turn, but they had their breakthrough. His troops had swarmed through that breach, storming Hag Graef's roads, eager to kill, to plunder and to take the city in Lord Mordred's name.
Mistake, big mistake.
The Druchii clans all distrusted each other and their Drachau for good reasons. All dwellings except for the poorest ones were fortresses in their own right, built to withstand anything but a determined assault, preferably with modern weapons. Hag Graef lacked Karond Kar's broad alleys used to parade the new slaves. Instead there were countless small ways, streets and catwalks that connected the city's many towers. Running these paths exposed the DawiZhar to close-range fire from murder holes and arrow slits. The company that had been first through the breach was gone for all practical purposes.
Ernutan quickly learned that there was no fast way to storm Hag Graef's center, no place that could be leveled by artillery fire to make the inhabitants quit or even shake their resolve. That Lord Mordred's wisdom forbade killing too many women and children did not help matters any. What remained was taking the city one tower, one fortification, one quarter at a time. The DawiZharr could do that, they had the training, the guts, the weapons and Lord Mordred's wisdom at their side.
But they had ceded many of their advantages to the Dandelion eaters when they had entered the city. Their rifles might outrange the Druchii crossbows considerably, but in the city's close confines nobody cared. They had Battlemechs that could withstand nearly any weapon that they faced. Except for mines, and those had been liberally emplaced in Hag Graef's ways. Every cobblestone could hide enough explosives to rip the leg of a Mech and evict the demon empowering it to the Warp. And the Dandelion-Eaters were clever enough to build them so only a Battlemech's weight would trigger them. So, he had to have his sappers clear the mines, often under fire. Doomshackler wondered what he would run out of first, sappers or Mechs.
And that was why the brunt of the fighting was resting on the footsloggers, the poor bloody infantry. They took Hag Graef, one tower, one building, one pile of rubble and one true dwarven warrior at a time. The DawiZharr had always been good at fighting in close confines, in tunnels and caves. They were met by an enemy who was still in love with cold steel, with traps and ambushes. Ernutan had lost more warriors than he had started the battle with and only the reinforcements that a far-too-generous Lord Mordred sent him kept the battle going. Currently he was on the march himself as he had to shift his headquarters' location to one closer to the fighting.
The route had been carefully planned to avoid all places that had not been totally cleared or reduced to fine rubble. It led past the dead of both sides, past towers that were burned out husks, past discarded weapons, blood splashes, ash, and rubble. The depth of winter prevented the worst of stinks, but that was the only blessing to be had. His warriors did not march as proud warriors should, they sprinted from cover to cover. Their heads were always turning here and there, trying to spot ambushes before they happened. None of them wore the marks of the ranks they were entitled to, they would make them even more of a target.
A warrior behind him grunted and stumbled to the ground. Ernutan was about to dress the soldier down when he saw the bolt sticking from his back and the cramps that tortured the DawiZharr. Another soldier swore when another bolt left a bloody crease on his arm. Ernutan immediately dropped down to venerate his harsh mistress again who extracted her price immediately by grazing his right palm and knee. It certainly beat dying to the poison the pointy ears smeared on their bolts. He trusted his helmet enough to lift his head and tried to spot where the shots were coming from. Like his warriors he did not have much luck in that, there was no muzzle flash and no bang to help spotting the hecklers. The only thing that became obvious soon enough was that it came from the pile of rubble that used to be a Druchii clan fortress. It had been bombarded into rubble and the "cleared" sign mocked him while another bolt was caught short by his mistress. Staying here would certainly do no good, his skin was crawling with every second he was pinned in place.
He had to struggle a second to remember the names of his retinue, even his bodyguard had to take in replacements during the last few days. Crawling deeper into cover he tried to whisper just loud enough to be heard, but not to be a target.
"Thaurid, frag and smoke on this heap, the rest of us provides cover. When the smoke is up, Persad, do your thing."
"We hear and we obey Lord."
Ernutan raised his head minutely and pushed his revolver forward. The big weapon kicked in his hand, pushing the muzzle up even against true dwarven strength. The big lead wad hit the rubble on the other side of the street, punching into nothing of greater value. It was joined by the bullets of his retinue who also hit obsidian, wood and dirt. None of them took the time to look closely for targets or take careful aim. That would have been far too dangerous. Their intent was to keep the dandelion eaters' heads down while one of their number raised up and threw three grenades in short order. Two produced loud bangs and fragments whizzed over everybody's heads. The third produced a lot of white acrimonious smoke that the wind blew over the offending pile of rubble. If the true dwarfs had few chances of hitting anything before, they were reduced to none now. But so were those of the Druchii and that was what Doomshackler wanted. Others might think about disengaging, but neither the Druchii nor the DawiZharr were willing to let an opportunity to kill go.
Several bolts whizzed evilly through the air, none came close to the spot where another true dwarven warrior rose. An accomplished noncom he had been rewarded for many years of service in a manner fitting for Hashut's children. He ran as fast as his equipment allowed and pointed his weapon at the smoke before him. An evil hiss served as the first sign, followed by a long gout of liquid fire that clung to everything it touched. Moving the nozzle here and there Persad made sure that the enemy's positions were completely covered in fire. As it ran into depressions and covered all it did not matter how well the dandelion eaters had hidden themselves and how deeply they tried to bury themselves, they could run or they could burn. And the screams that rose from the smoke said they burned.
Now Ernutan and his retinue could make for the new headquarters.
Achaes, the Border Kingdoms
The blade slid over Peter Michael's throat, a hairsbreadth away from drawing blood. Peter wisely remained silent and instead listened to the prattle of the man wielding the knife. He had been warned about such things and of course he had thought it would not happen to him.
"Oh you Germans. You have brought such changes to the world. We are all safe from pirates, or so they say. We can now treat the sick they say. All these wonderful things are at the market, making life better they say. But do you know what the change that really takes my heart is?"
Given his situation Peter refrained from answering. Like many German students he had taken a break after finishing the Abitur, like many he had gone on a trip where the railroads and the ships would carry him. A little money went a long way outside of the Reiksbund and there were many ways of earning the little needed to pay for local food or accommodation. Often it was sufficient to write letters, read something or show a film on the Siemens pad to earn enough for a couple of days. Peter had always been the guy to take things up to eleven and went to the Border Kingdoms instead of the Republic of Bretonia or Albion. He had been moderately successful during the last few days and the coins that burned in his pocket had brought him to the point where an exceedingly sharp edge was very close to his jugular.
The barber had been recommended, he did seemed to do a good job and Peter really needed a haircut and a shave. But the barber also had taken up a nonstop prattle which Peter could hardly avoid. That he had used a cloth doused with spirits to burn his ear's hairs away had further reinforced the notion that resistance was futile.
"Color, that is the change that you brought and that warms my heart the most. Can you imagine the old times? Practically everybody was walking around in homespun, the color the fabrics have naturally. Brown, beige and grey was all they could do. Yes, there were some colours, but they were so very expensive and bleaching the cloth was so hard. Can you believe that you needed 8000 snails to make one gram of purple color? Well, your BASF ended that nonsense for good. Now it is so easy to buy cheap cloth, to bleach it and make it any color that your heart desires. So now you no longer see grey, beige and brown, you see all the colours of the flowers in the spring, the ones of leaves in autumn and some I have never seen before. Oh, our maidens look like beautiful flowers, don't they?
And the houses, it is the same thing. No longer the dirt brown of brick walls or unburned clay, nor the funeral white of a whitewash that tries to imitate marble, an illusion that will wash away with the next rain. Now we can buy such colours, bright, won`t wash away and covering up what is underneath. Now we can make this place really exciting and beautiful. Now this place looks so much more alive. Why, just last week I saw this house in the brightest pink you can imagine. I`d love to paint my house like it young man, but I am of meagre means…
Given that the razor was rather close to Peter's nose he declined to comment, even when he thought that he thought that the white houses had better style than the harlequin-like riot he saw outside. But maybe the barber had a point. Germany had not just brought medicine and safety to this world. Books became cheap, electric lights illuminated the nights and radios played the music of two worlds. And he was here to see the change and talk to the people who saw them happen before their very eyes. Not bad, not bad at all.
Leviathan, 250 km the Kislevite coast
Jacub General's hands clutched around Leviathan's islands's rails till they showed white knuckles. During the last months he had simply been too busy to worry much about the grander scale of things. He had to solve one problem after the other, there had been no time to ponder the size of the mission he was an important part of. Today was the day when that came crushing into his consciousness with a vengeance.
The seas were unseasonably quiet presently, which allowed Captain Scheer to reduce Leviathan's speed to zero. The water behind the two tugs still boiled from time to time as they corrected the Ice Ship's orientation. During the last few hours a cruise ship had approached Leviathan from behind and finally docked between the two arms that held Nordsee and Klauensee. The liner was a huge ship, being four times the size of old Bismark, and Leviathan still dwarfed it. The former Aida ship had been chartered by the Cathayan government to transport the Heavenly Expedition Corps to Nagaroth. She had fallen on hard times as there were many more opportunities for Germans to see the new world than expensive crews and so she was for rent. Normally it could cater to nearly 4000 passengers and 1500 crew. Now more men had to share a cabin and fewer stewards looked after them. More than 6000 soldiers had been transported half way around the world and now made their way into Leviathan's bowels so that the cruise ship could bring more of them.
They were two unending lines of people who made their way along two walkways, marching forward through huge gates. This procession had started half an hour ago and it showed no sign of stopping. If anything was needed to show Jacub how big he had aimed for this was it. Now the quarters and facilities his Kislevites had built would be tested and he could only hope that he had done enough.
A polite cough managed to pull him from the depths of self-doubt and he turned to find himself facing a wiry man of middle size in a uniform mostly hidden by a long coat.
"Good afternoon Herr General. I am Wolfgang Böhler, commanding officer of the Wild Geese. Captain Scheer and Brigade Leader Bane both tell me that you were the right man to answer a lot of questions."
BMW Plant, Berlin Spandau
The bike felt right to Gotrek, he had no other words to describe it. It was rock-solid and heavy to boot. It probably weighted 60 kilograms more than the Harley-Davidson Sportster he had left on Earth. Yet the weight was very low to the ground, making it easy to handle. Anything he touched was just so, all the levers and buttons moved with silken smoothness. The throttle opened with just the right amount of resistance and the brake lever did the same until it came to a hard stop. Whatever he touched, checked or knocked was solid. Except a few places like the fenders there was no plastic or sheet metal, only armour-plate-solid steel and aluminium.
While the "Hog" had been good the finish on this one was on another level. He had come to love riding the Harley on Earth and was looking for a replacement. Unfortunately the Harleys left in Germany were either getting very long in the tooth or were a bit too expensive for what he had in mind.
Somehow BMW had gotten wind of that and they had an offer for him that sounded too good to be true. So now he was at the place where they made their motorbikes. They had only made them for a hundred years or so by now, but they really seemed to have it down.
Looking at the bearded engineer to his left he lifted an eyebrow. Kürt Böck just nodded and Gotrek pushed the starter button. The engine started on the first turn and for a second the former Slayer was a bit disappointed. The shakes and the vibrations that his hog had produced were much muted, as was the sound that came from the huge mufflers. But what came out was a deep basso profundo and when he turned the throttle the bike pushed against his leg with a huge amount of torque.
"This is a flat twin, like the first bikes that we built instead of aircraft engines. Most of the forces cancel each other, unlike on a V-2 with less than 90 degrees. But this engine has 1.8 litre displacement, it gives serious power and torque."
"Not bad for human work Herr Böck, really not bad. Can I give this thing a spin?"
The engineer smiled. "Oh yes, you can, but might you give our photographer a chance for a few pictures first?"
The adds would pop up a couple of weeks later. They showed Gotrek on the new BMW R18, wearing a leather jacket, a set of sunglasses and the axe slung on his back. The text below read:
"Do you think we'd dare sell a bad bike to this dwarf?"
Neustadt, Naggaroth
Torsten Breitkop had joined the Black Company because they would allow him to tinker to his heart's content. He could build up an industry, design all the toys and enjoy some thankful slave girls. Oh yes, those reasons had been in his head by himself, it was just that the Changer of Ways had made them obsessions, made him act on what would normally be day dreams.
Now that he had gone beyond the pale he found himself behind a desk more and more. Neustadt had grown to stupendous size and complexity. It had to be managed and while a lot of former slaves and some Germans helped greatly with that there were tasks he could not delegate in any way, shape or form.
And on the top of that list of things was the communication with Malekith. He had made a telegraph line his first priority after taking over what remained of the Black Company. No longer would some poor schmuck have needles in his brain so that he might talk to the Witch King.
And another missive had reached his desk. Whenever such a thing turned up he was full of dread these days, even more so than before. The Witch King demanded the impossible to be ready yesterday or earlier and disobeying him was simply not on the menu. He had seen what Malekith's torturers had done to Silvar Bloodcrest's family, that had given his mind scars to last forever.
The latest demand, besides more anti-air and anti-mech artillery was for naval mines. These things had not just saved Hag Graef from the DawiZharr navy, but also Torsten's hide when his modified Black Arks had failed against the latest dwarven Dreadnought.
Torsten looked at the simple sheet of paper and did not know what to do about this. Neustadt was running ragged as it was, with a race between building ever more production facilities and actually producing weapons and gear. That the priorities shifted every so often did not make things any easier. Making thousands of mines, shipping them all over Naggaroth was simply out of the question. And at the same time he could not tell Malekith exactly that, it might be fatal to him and even worse for Anja. What the damn Druchii would do to his people did not bear thinking as well. So what the bleeding….
The inspiration hit Torsten out of nowhere and he was so relieved that he giggled with giddy relief. Taking his pen he wrote a short message that he would gladly obey the Witch King's commands if the Dread Lords would ship the required amounts of Florite and processed Guano. Without these he would be unable to make the steel and explosives that went into the mines. That Torsten certainly did not have the workforce to make them was a totally different matter. He ended the message with asking for the Witch King's wisdom as to what products should be prioritized under these regrettable circumstances.
One problem down, a hundred to go till this day was done.
Just finished reading this fantastic story today. Nice work dude.
Also how old is Spymaster Otto? Hope he has a successor ready so no projects he is currently maintaining end up being forgotten.
Just finished reading this fantastic story today. Nice work dude.
Also how old is Spymaster Otto? Hope he has a successor ready so no projects he is currently maintaining end up being forgotten.
Given that Ottokar heads a network called Sektion 31 he will have a sucessor. One of the smaller updates showed that he retired peacefully, so there should be an orderly change of command.
Part of me is curious to how far science and magic can mix as I am thinking about how powerful a High Elf dragon in magical power armor can be. That would mix the maneuverability of a fighter with a brain that can control every inch of itself.
Another update passed muster with a proofreader, Andyheong was so nice to do the deed this time. Conversations are among the hardest things to write in fiction, today we have one of the longest I ever attempted. Jacub General watches planes, Ernutan Doomshakler is reminded of anatomy lessons, Beer has us visit a clinic, we have discovery by oopsie and Malus Darkblade. A lot of things could go very, very wrong, even if not all of them are obvious at first.
Leviathan, 500 kilometers of the Kislevite coast
Jacub General had prepared a landing strip on Leviathan's deck. If he had ever speculated what kind of planes would use it he would have thought about cargo planes bringing personnel or spare parts. Maybe helicopters or that Imperial fighter-bomber that the Luftwaffe disliked so much. A wing of wooden biplanes had not been on the menu and there they were.
A Ro-Ro ship had docked with Leviathan yesterday, and trucks had pulled one low-sided trailer after another and brought them into the ship's cavernous holds. Their contents would be joined by the containers of the freighter scheduled next week. Jacub thought that by then the last of the planes would be assembled from their crates.
To somebody used to Typhoon fighter-bombers, A400M transports and huge airships these planes looked like toys, barely worth being called warplanes. And yet they looked different from what he remembered seeing in museums.
The biplanes looked seamless, lacking the wires and many of the struts that slowed their ancestors. The engine was completely tucked away inside a cowling and the cooler was a streamlined affair.
Maybe they would be useful, but how they would fare against the Flugscheiben that had given the Imperials a hard time he could not imagine. He certainly had neither time to muse nor to ask. There were artillery pieces to emplace, and he needed to make sure that the preparations were finished. He would never hear the end of it from Valera otherwise.
RSS Morgenstern, 13 Million Kilometers from Warhammer World
Nathan Alpers was falling towards the sun, his inner ears, his eyes, and reality agreed on that. He had long learned to ignore what his inner <ear/ senses/ innards?> tried to say in space, and he would be very surprised if Morgenstern was not falling towards the sun.
Well, not directly into but falling closer with every passing second. That had been the aim when the ship had scrubbed a couple of km/sec from its orbital velocity. The remaining velocity was not enough to keep Morgenstern in the same orbit than the Warhammer World, and so it dropped ever closer to the system's star.
Doing so, it gathered speed that would make it rise up later to the point where it would intersect the Star Gate's orbit. A circularization burn and some adjustments would put the German spaceship into an orbit around the gate, assuming all went well. That was months away still, yet the sun was noticeably bigger in the viewports before the astronaut.
The ventilation systems were running at a higher pitch and a coolant pump could be heard somewhere behind the astronaut. He shook his head remembering that he had imagined space to have a dignified silence, maybe with a light waltz as background music.
That was not to be, the need for mechanical ventilation in the absence of convection was paramount. Then there were the pumps, the servos, the gensets, and more. And while the vacuum of space would not transmit any sound, Morgenstern's hull and superstructure would do so very well. Even when Germany's most modern spaceship was better than its predecessors in this regard it was still the noise level of a large office space. One got used to it, but that's about it.
Nathan Alpers did something boring and utterly necessary at the same time, he stood watch. Given that no major evolutions in Morgenstern's maintenance were happening or planned, that no course corrections were needed, and that most of the crew was asleep it was boring.
Given that Murphy was at the very least a passenger in any spaceflight and that Morgenstern was far from any help, it was still necessary to monitor all systems at all times. A solitary watch was not exactly what the book called for, but Nathan was an old hand and had commanded the mission to Verda.
Having time and space for oneself, with nobody within smelling distance, was something very, very important on such a long mission. Given that there was a separate engine room watch, it was an acceptable risk. Nathan had dimmed the lights as far down as they would go without switching them off entirely and enjoyed the magic of a solitary night watch.
Currently, he watched one set of monitors that displayed the status of nearly every system needed to run Morgenstern. Another showed the status of a backup computer that was running updates. The picture on the third screen changed without warning, showing a toga-wearing female. The voice matched the picture, precise and with an undertone of disapproval.
"Oberstleutnant Nathan Alpers, do you realize that I could perform these functions better than you in a tenth of the time? You could do whatever Primates do to keep themselves amused."
The astronaut managed to suppress his alarm at being addressed out of the blue and even reigned in his annoyance.
"Good evening to you too Hypatia. Thanks for the offer I think, but no," Nathan said cheerfully. He wonders if it is possible to annoy an AI. "You could likely perform the functions, but you are not designed as part of this ship, you are no certified watchstander, and the book says no. Given how far we are from any outside help going by the book is the way to go."
"Aha. So, what does your book say about what happens after I manage to shut down the gate?"
"We return to base after verifying that the Gate stays shut down."
"Oberstleutnant Nathan Alpers, I am very much aware of that part of the mission. I enquire what do you think Germany will do after I shut down the Gate. Will you try to destroy it at a later date to make sure you are safe here?" Hypatia's synthesized voice showed her exasperation, maybe you can annoy an AI.
"From what I have read such destruction would both be hard to accomplish and dangerous. I have not heard of any plans to do so and am pretty sure we lack the means.
"In the short term, I do believe that we will try to fortify the Gate in case something still makes it through. Put a couple of asteroids into orbit around them and arm them. Maybe a solar forge on steroids. We will try to advance our technology to the point where we are not totally defenseless against whatever is out there. Then we can ask you to reopen that Gate and have a look at what is on the other side," Nathan explained. True, the plan is not the best possible plan but it seems like a good enough plan.
"Do you have an idea, any idea how ludicrous that is?"
"No, care to illuminate me?"
"Oberstleutnant Nathan Alpers, you should be aware that multicellular life was present on your homeworld for a very long time. After a couple of important features emerged in what you call the Cambrian Explosion, consciousness and language could evolve at any time. And while the Old Ones have observed some races that remained strictly agricultural, most arrive at the scientific process sooner or later. Those who do have to progress as they would otherwise run out of the raw materials de jour sooner or later. A lot then kill themselves, either by the madness of industrialized warfare and WMDs or by damaging their environment to the point of no return.
"Those who avoid that turn to space, the only place with virtually limitless resources. This will usually guarantee the survival of that species, at least in parts. The Old Ones found the remains of races which were spacefaring for a long time, probably thousands of years or a bit more. Some seemed to have died off for no better reason than running out of motivation to go on. Others seem to have evolved to the point where we do not recognize them anymore. Still, the time to meet them as a starfaring species is a few thousand years out of the many millions that a planet can bear biological life, a chance of less than one in a million. That is why you found no neighbors when you looked for them on Earth," Hypathia patiently explained.
"I have heard of Drake's Equation before. So?" Nathan shrugged.
"If it is already unlikely that you meet intelligent life at all and even more unlikely to meet another technologically capable civilization, tell me how unlikely do you think it is that you meet somebody who is roughly at the same stage of technological development as you are? And remember how fast technology moves once you really get going. From the Wright flier to the first manned mission to the moon in 66 years. From ENIAC to Cray XK7 in 67. Yes, while Earth Humans are pretty fast, but they are not that much of an outlier.
"Do you believe you out-teched those Beastmen, Orcs and Chaos Warriors you fought in battle? If a star-faring species finds you here you will learn what out-teched means. I have explained this to your leaders several times, and the last time I thought I saw some understanding. In other words - you will not be the Federation meeting the Romulans depicted in that childish fantasy, you will be Neanderthals meeting the 7th Panzer Division. If you understand that you might understand why destroying that Gate is worth the dangers," Nathan frowned. After working closely with the AI all this time, he can tell that she was doing the human equivalent of screaming at him.
"If I understood my briefings correctly if we were to pursue that it would be a major undertaking. It would need quite the build-up of space infrastructure and the development of new technologies to accomplish if we want to achieve this goal at all. Even more, if we want to mitigate the risk. I am not sure if I were to see the end of it. At the same time, your fellow AI indicates that some rather low-tech defenses could make the gate rather difficult to force even for an enemy of much higher technology."
"You think sharper sticks might help you?"
"No, sticks might not do it. But a properly processed nickel-Iron asteroid might provide armor hundreds of meters thick and be a potent heat sink. Solar mirrors are low-tech but can provide nearly unlimited amounts of energy. And given that we would know where a potential enemy would emerge and his vector forcing the gate could be quite costly."
Hypatia sounded doubtful. "Let us for a second imagine that this is so, what do you hope to achieve by that?"
"We do not have your insight into Galactic history or diplomacy, we need to learn from our own history. The Raumstreitkräfte think there are three examples that represent the likely scenarios - the Native Americans, the Inuit, and Japan," Nathan said, dredging the details from a half-remembered policy briefing.
The AI used the astronaut's short pause to interrupt.
"Mass death, destruction of culture, leaving the survivors with a high incidence of substance abuse, or joining the powers that be."
"In a nutshell, yes."
"So you think greeting visitors with your primitive weapons will improve your station? Don't you think it might provoke or show you in an unfavorable light?"
"The colonial powers could have taken Japan in the 19th century, the technology gap was just too great. But it would have been costly, and the Japanese offered in trade what the powers wanted. So cooperation was preferable to conquest. We might also detract smaller players, something like mercenaries or commercial enterprises such as the one AI Nathan dubbed Weyland Yutani. All of that is far into the future I believe. I do not think we will "open up" anytime soon. There is a solar system to explore and utilize and so much for the scientists to learn," Nathan countered.
"Oberstleutnant Nathan Alpers, do you believe you can somehow catch up to species who have entered the path of knowledge when you thought pointed sticks the height of innovation?"
"I can hardly claim to know much about their progress. What I do know is that both you and Nathan have provided us with a great lot of basic knowledge to build on. We have dozens of examples of what can be built, and we have the Nanites to make them. I'd say this will give us an advantage. Standing on the shoulders of giants and all that.
"Indeed, simply knowing that something can be built or that there is indeed a unifying field theory is worth so much. Plus I would not bet against some humans going the upgrade path in the not so distant future. And until we have our ducks in a row we can keep the Gate closed. Maybe we can see if it closed from the other side at a time of our choosing and risk a peek. Just keeping the Gate open now seems to be too much of a risk. I have this feeling the Inuit option would be the best we can expect if we do not close it," Nathan said confidently.
"What makes you think so?" Hypatia asked, wondering why the German sounded so assured.
"You stated yourself that a number of Galactic players tend to kill off all developing technological civilizations such as ours. It might be because they want to curb the competition or due to general principles, it does not matter as we would be dead anyway.
"From Earth's history, human societies react rather badly when they are confronted with others which have a much higher-tech level and have a more complex organization. Trying to adapt might run into the problem that the higher-tech civilization sets them limits or wants to push them down a certain development path. In short, they could adapt to the point where the roots are no longer visible or become sheltered in enclaves.
"The survivors have a high incidence of depression and substance abuse. None of that does any good to those societies, and that is why the very few sheltered tribes are kept in isolation these days. Given that neither option is acceptable, we will close the Gate down and then try to accelerate our development."
"Oberstleutnant Nathan Alpers, the Old Ones found the remains of civilizations who managed to cleave open planets for their metal cores and have indications that not all stars in a particular cluster are where they should be. None of the species that accomplished such feats was around when I was a part of the Great Net. They all passed on to whatever place sufficiently advanced species go.
"Still, this may give you an idea of how far you have to go on the data you think you have. Be that as it may, I am still wondering what a primate species which came into technology it should not have would do once it is exposed to the greater galaxy."
"Given that this would probably happen far beyond my lifetime I am not in the place to speculate. Why do you think we would be special?"
"We come back to what you call the Drake equation Oberstleutnant Nathan Alpers. Once a species has learned industrial chemistry, and even more when they unlock biology and basic nuclear reactions, they have a realistic chance to kill themselves off. Since the gap from there to a true spacefaring species is a long one, such a species must exert restraint if it wants to survive. The same goes for damage to the environment."
"You already stated that, so?" the astronaut frowned, wondering what was Hypatia trying to get at.
"Because you did not grasp its implications before, so let me try again. Your species, like many other primates, are very territorial. And for a great length of time waging war was a way to make profits. My take on your history is that this was the modus operandi of many great civilizations. Be it the Roman Empire, Alexander the oh-so-great, or the Persians, they were robbers and blackmailers on a grand scale.
War was good when you were the winner. That may have been a viable strategy as long as the conflicts were fought with armies recruited from the undesirables and with weapons of simple construction. Come industrialized warfare things change, even the winners are often diminished. So, your people had the US Civil War and could have seen that. They had the French-German war and could have learned something. They could have done basic bookkeeping and learned that Imperial Japan nearly bankrupted itself by winning the war with the Russians and trying to remain on top of naval power development.
"But no, you did not and so you had the First World War to really push that lesson home. Then you learned that war is no longer a profitable business and that there are better ways to resolve differences. Instead of that you did not. And like monkeys throwing feces at each other, you had to do it again. And in the many, many wars that followed you killed untold millions more. And each and every year there was the risk of something going wrong, of somebody getting nervous and pulling the nuclear trigger. So excuse me if I do not rate the Earth Human chances to become a starfaring species very highly," Hypatia said dispassionately.
"But in this world, things might be different. Here you found the data and the basic tools to outpace your own destructive tendencies. Here you actually found access to the Gate Net. You might very well be roaming the stars long before you are ready for it."
"The meek shall inherit the stars or what are you aiming for?" Nathan said with a hint of humor that he didn't really feel. The AI's pessimistic evaluation of humanity surprised him.
"The meek? Oberstleutnant Nathan Alpers, if you paid any attention to the briefings your namesake and I gave then you'd know that in 39% of all encounters with a lower-tech civilization, the star farers simply wipe the planet-bound society out. This is not meek, it is wisdom."
"What?" Nathan blinked. He started furiously trying to remember so of lectures he sleepwalked through. Did the two AIs tell him that and he paid no attention? To planetary annihilation?
He resolved there and then to pay more attention, a lot of more attention, to the non-technical briefings.
"No need to get excited Oberstleutnant Nathan Alpers. You even have a poem about it, or is it an appeal to a god?
"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference.
"You even know it for so long, you have encoded it and you primates cannot live by it. You refuse to see the world as it is, do the things you can, and avoid those you cannot. You even consciously deny the truth that stares in your face. Global warming, nothing to see here, move along. Lose a huge army in Stalingrad, scream for 'more total war'… That is what is lacking in your species, wisdom.
"And if you, ghu forbid, charge into the Galactic scene with weapons you should not have with your lack of wisdom, who knows how much damage you will do. I wonder how long that heyday will last until one of the Great Powers takes an interest in you and removes you from existence," Hypatia said somewhat sadly.
"I love you too Hypatia. Any reason for this rant but to show me how worthless we humans are?"
"Oberstleutnant Nathan Alpers, I am the loneliest AI in existence, and even I have to talk about my frustrations from time to time. And maybe, just maybe I wanted to make sure that my estimate about your people is right. Unfortunately, you confirmed it."
"Marvelous I am sure," Nathan said sarcastically.
Hypatia's avatar disappeared from the monitor without a sound, leaving the German astronaut in darkness and silence. Somehow, at that moment, space the final frontier doesn't seem to be all it's cracked up to be.
Hag Graef, Naggaroth
The air was cold, dry, and burned any exposed skin Ernutan Doomshakler presented to it, which was not very much. The stars watched over the battlefield that was Hag Graef in great if uncaring brilliance.
Rifle fire crackled out now and then but nothing really threatening. The area around the command post was reasonably safe as it was nearly two kilometers away from the parts of Hag Graef currently fought over.
Ernutan's color party kept their distance, having learned their Lord's strange preferences quickly enough. Those who did not found themselves back at the front where the life expectancy of low- to mid-level leaders was roughly 11 days.
That a true dwarf would prefer the canopy of stars and fresh air over the shelter of good rock and the company of comrades spoke volumes about Ernutan's state of mind. There were very few good comrades left, he was surrounded by DawiZharr whose name he no longer bothered to learn.
Oh yes, his division was killing the pointy-eared dandelion eaters, lots, and lots of them. But this was their city, they regarded killing from ambush a supplication to their god, and the survivors were good. So all the news in the command bunker were shades of bad, and even the best decision he made using his most refined tactics only resulted in fewer warriors killed and tortured. It was like trying to hold fine sand in one hand. You could only slow the loss, not stop it.
Yes, he needed some fresh air and the absence of bad news for a moment to be able to get on with the slaughter.
At first, he did not hear the sounds consciously, and his tired mind needed a second to parse them. When he had finally discovered that he was indeed hearing the sounds of retching and puking the sounds, that was joined by quiet curses and something that might be weeping if the true dwarfs did such a thing.
Angry at a world that would not allow him a single moment of solitude, he stepped towards the ruins that were the source of the disturbance. When he entered the remains of a hallway he got a glimpse into hell. Down in a room was... something.
He had seen an autopsy of a DawiZharr once, one of Lord Mordred's pet humans had performed it. He had dissected the body, he pulled away muscles, nerves, and organs so that everyone could see the ravages of the heavy metals in the Dark Land's soil. It had been a grisly sight in its own right, but the corpse had not been alive.
The Dark Elves had managed to produce a similar result and nailed it to a wall in a building he would have deemed safe a few minutes ago. And by careful work and magic, they had kept the DawiZharr warrior alive. He could not cry or make any other sounds but labored breathing given that his vocal cords and tongue were not in their usual positions. The eye that was still in its socket managed to convey the pain and despair well enough. The dwarven flame thrower was not far from the victim, it had not helped him any.
One of Ernutan's guards looked at him and raised an eyebrow in a wordless question. Doomshakler did not trust his voice enough to answer and simply nodded. The guard pulled a revolver from his holster and aimed for the victim's head when something made Ernutan shout a warning and jump from the hallway.
He was not in time, the heavy bullet ripped the head apart and something that sounded like breaking glass a heartbeat later. The flamethrower exploded half a second later, dousing everybody in the room with clinging fiery death. Ernutan felt Hashut's breath passing him by, leaving him to his task of sending more of his warriors to die.
MOBA One, Mannslieb
"No Rogers, no Bucks." Jürgen Mannheimer smiled when he typed away at the keyboard before him. There were a million questions to answer, a lot of statements to endorse or correct, a lot of "likes" to give.
DLR's budget was one of the Federal Republic's biggest, and it was always under pressure and scrutiny. All was fair in love, war, and budget appropriations and so DLR had decided to make MOBA One's trips a bit more spectacular.
Once the huge former mining vehicle had proven to be reliable, they had sent it on a hell of a scientific excursion. They could have gotten results from making shorter trips from Oberth Base, but that would not have the same impact on the public. Instead, the powers that be had sent MOBA one on a trip that went all around Mannslieb before it was over.
And to make sure the taxpayer took notice of such heroics they, among other things, made room for a social media manager. Especially since the younger demographics were participating so much more this way than via the TV they thought old-fashioned.
The ground below him started to tilt upwards a bit, and the drive was noticeably louder now. Given her huge mass and size, MOBA One had a very unique ride, more like a ship or a plane than a ground vehicle.
Together with the low gravity, it took some getting used to, but Mannheim was far too excited to care at present. MOBA One was just climbing the outer perimeter of the Heinlein crater. It was situated at the side of Mannlieb that was forever hidden from the Warhammer World.
The crater had shown up when Nathan Alpers took Polarstern around the moon for the first time. Even then it had taken DLR's analysts some time to see what was special around it.
While there were craters galore on Mannslieb's surface, none of them was precisely circular, but for one. And MOBA one was just climbing the crater's wall to have a look.
When the huge vehicle finally came to rest, the sight was spectacular. A perfect bowl, 32 kilometers in diameter was not something you see every day. Heinlein's ground was covered by a light coat of dust, showing how very old it was. All the dust on its surface had to come from space, there was no wind to blow it about. What was practically totally absent were the many boulders that peppered Mannslieb's surface.
Mannheimer had to write a lot about the mission and everything else to keep his viewers glued to the screens. DLR might be willing to indulge the taxpayers, but they would not forego safety protocols. So Jürgen had to wait together with many, many people while a drone made its way down the slope before them, while measurements were taken and decisions made.
It was nearly towards the end of an overlong shift that a couple of astronauts followed the drone's path. They were taking it slowly and carefully. Their spacesuits were rather tough, but atmosphere and rain never had a chance to dull the edges of the stones and boulders that dotted the upper rim of the crater. Dropping on them was probably safe, but when your very survival depended on the integrity of a few layers of high-tech fabrics, caution easily won.
The three astronauts moved from the crater's rim to the smoother part, and that was where their caution failed them. When the first person placed his second foot on the thin layer of dust his feet could not provide enough traction. Instead the thin dust layer gave way and pulled the legs with it.
Given Mannlieb's low gravity the fall did not injure and the slide down the crater seemed to happen in slow motion. Twisting on his front and pushing down with his arms the astronaut managed to hold his descent. He was obviously looking at the trail left by his merry slide when he forgot that he was on live TV.
"Heilige Scheiße," the man cursed.
Mannheimer, who looked at what the astronaut's camera revealed, could not agree more. Below the layer of dust was a gleaming white surface that was visible wherever the fall had removed the dust. All the carefully laid plans for MOBA One's excursion were scrapped, and the huge vehicle remained in place for nearly two weeks.
In the end, their findings combined with bits and pieces of data from Nathan and Hypatia revealed that this was a radio telescope left by the Ancient Ones. A radio telescope 32 kilometers in diameter, on the "quiet" side of Mannslieb. It would be really useful in learning if the Warhammer World's neighborhood held any tech-minded civilizations.
There were more than a few surprises when the Raumstreitkräfte and DLR got around to place a receiver in its focal point.
Pi: 3.149 Naggaroth
The icy wind flapped the tent's insulated sides and worked on the flue that doubled as a tent pole like on an oversized flute, producing sounds like a mournful organ. Despite the best what German design and slave work could accomplish, gusts of wind sent icy tendrils through the tent. It was illuminated by a single oil lamp that painted flickering shadows all across the walls.
Malus Darkblade saw and felt none of that. He reread the letter he had received from Malekith himself and needed all his willpower not to scream in frustration.
In not so many words, the letter told him that he would not receive the reinforcements, weapons, and munitions he had asked for. The battles with the Chaos Dwarfs, in his own city no less, meant that he would receive less not more.
At least two sentences hinted that Hag Graef had more than its fair share of modern weapons. Reading those lines had sent dark shivers down Malus's spine, which had nothing at all to do with the weather. And now he had to make a decision about a change of plans and on how much a risk he needed to take.
A look at the last report about his stock levels decided the matter. He took Tevil Magestalker's report on Neustadt from the locked box where it had stayed till he could make good use of it. Originally he wanted to use it on this Torsten, son of Breitkopf, to send him a larger share of supplies. Maybe even sending them off the books, giving Malus capabilities that the Witch King would not know about. Now he would use this report in a rather different way.
Leviathan, 600 kilometers from the Kislevite coast
The meeting room was the same Jacub General had used so many times to coordinate the millions of tasks that building a mobile base from ice, tech, and magic needed doing.
Jacub had to make a conscious effort to reign himself in these days, he was no longer the top dog in it. While practically all things technical still dropped on him, there were now others who could order him around. That the people who did so were stone-cold killers helped immensely with that.
Unfortunately, even these had no answer to the newest challenge that was before them. Wolfgang Böhler himself lined it out for them and did a creditable job of it. Sadly, his presentation did not contain a hint of a solution.
"Due to problems with customs and the German police, our 203 mm pieces were kept in Hamburg Harbor, and it is unlikely that we will receive replacements. We did receive the munitions though, but those will not fire themselves," Böhler reported the terrible news.
"And while the 105 mm guns we did receive will certainly take care of any Flugscheibe we might encounter they are not sufficient for the latest DawiZharr ironclads which block the Sea of Malice. The guns on these ships are certainly enough to damage Leviathan, so we have no chance to enter our area of operations. Ladies and gentlemen, this operation may be over before it has really begun. Any bright ideas?"
Jacub General had a sinking feeling. So much work, so much accomplishment just for nothing? Whatever pride he felt at his part of the project seemed to vanish like insubstantial fog and had the same worth.
He had no idea what prompted him to speak or what had put the totally harebrained idea in his mind.
"Err, General, I have something in mind but need to check some data before I present it."
Westpfalz-Klinikum, Kaiserslautern, Germany
The "Western Palatinate Clinic" began its life as the (Royal Bavarian) District Hospital Kaiserslautern in the late 19th Century. Back then the part of the city the hospital was located in was freshly started to be developed. Within a rather short time the hospital was fully surrounded by the growing city.
Due to this, the Hospital had only two ways to grow, up and down. While a couple of original Gründerzeit hospital buildings, having survived to this day, were still in use after several modernizations over time, the main complex was an ever-growing maze.
Since the last expansion shortly after the Weltensprung the helicopter landing pads were now residing on the fifteenth-floor level. The Westpfalz-Klinikum had been designated a "Schwerpunktkrankenhaus" (District Main hospital) well before the Weltensprung, meaning a hospital you could get practically all types of help and able to cover most of the region by itself.
Today the hospital had a capacity of nearly 2,000 beds, up from 1,350 before the Weltensprung, and was very well-known for its great Herz (coronary) department and several other well- regarded departments. Additionally, while not being a University hospital, Kaiserslautern has a cooperative understanding with Mainz University.
With such expertise and not the least since Dr. Maria Sailer was working there, Annika von Carstein´s pregnancy was mostly monitored at the Westpfalz-Klinikum, since there was no other way than to designate it a risk pregnancy.
Her Mutterpass (lit. mother passport), which was something every expecting mother in Germany got and showed everything medical done and advised during the pregnancy, was already bursting at the seams, so to speak.
Something which regularly happened in the gynecological department as well, during Annika´s visits a huge number of doctors, nurses, midwives, and students were in attendance to see what was going on.
Annika von Carstein herself showed few outward signs of her pregnancy for now. The famous expecting 'mother´s glow' was there, although slightly different. Some persons among her acquaintances and friends found it fascinating and interesting while others found it to be disconcerting.
While the glow proved this pregnancy as not too different from normal, it highlighted the differences too. Annika´s especially silken, milky skin made her even more attractive, but it underscored her as someone not entirely human.
The child was developing along with the standard expectations of size and speed, but you did not see it. Even at six months, there was only a small bump and zero weight gain. The lack of weight gain thing the doctors dismissed as they truly did not expect any.
The still rather flat abdomen was not without precedent. While rare, there were human mothers known with flat tummies until the latest stages of pregnancy. Still Maria Sailer, Gerd Schneider, and colleagues were checking it religiously.
Ultrasound pictures hinted that much of the developed baby/uterus stayed internal. There seemed to be a combination effect at work.
While watching the obvious signs of pregnancy, the doctors were more fascinated with other effects.
Annika von Carstein only experienced morning sickness only once or twice, but food cravings rather regularly. Specific types of blood and interestingly, varied normal food. Her body could only get minuscule if any nutrition from normal food. Opinions varied if this was a remnant of human biology in Vampires, just a psychological effect or if Annika really gained something from the normal food.
Brain scans showed the changes any mother went through. You can see on brain scans if a woman was a mother or had at least been pregnant to near birth. This made the docs specializing in bloodwork nearly going nuts. The results from the blood tests were frustrating to them.
Some numbers were comfortably in the normal range for a pregnant woman or woman. Others, well, as long as it did not impede mother and child, it was noted to make a baseline profile for pregnant Vampires.
Milk production had set in too. The colostrum was a bit pinkish, like strawberry milk, but mostly normal besides this. Mostly normal meaning that it was mother´s milk as it should be, but with extras.
These extras found the doctors and medics in a friendly, but fierce competition who would be the one to name this or that new component. What kept them searching and watching were lack of examples. Annika's is at present, a unique case.
No one knew if that was normal, as far it could be a normal pregnancy and what might be bad. Due to this, nobody wanted to make a mistake, everything was checked, even with the lack of previous examples.
I would use torpedoes. But if that didn't help using the 20,3 cm shells as bombs. The Japanese did so with the 40,6 cm shells of the Nagato class BB at Pearl Harbour, as they had no armour piercing bombs.
BTW, Hag Graef could become the Dawizharr Stalingrad.
I would use torpedoes. But if that didn't help using the 20,3 cm shells as bombs. The Japanese did so with the 40,6 cm shells of the Nagato class BB at Pearl Harbour, as they had no armour piercing bombs.
BTW, Hag Graef could become the Dawizharr Stalingrad.
If you can get torps plus the necessary connections to the plane, they are preferrable. If. Hag Graef is Stalingrad written small on the carnage level, but the outcome might well be different.
I would use torpedoes. But if that didn't help using the 20,3 cm shells as bombs. The Japanese did so with the 40,6 cm shells of the Nagato class BB at Pearl Harbour, as they had no armour piercing bombs.
BTW, Hag Graef could become the Dawizharr Stalingrad.
And italians with 320mm schells - they used it to arm their Mc.200 fighter and sunk few british destroyers.They also planned to do the same with 380mm schells, but but never used it.
P.S why not dive bomb dwarves ? first dive bomber was american Curtiss Hawk 2 biplane.And dive bombing was first method which allow to accurate hit targets.
The ice carrier was big enough to have more than one mess, this one was reserved for the upper echelons of its crew. Not that it served better food than the others, but things were a bit quieter. Jacub General had taken his tray to a small lonesome table and wolfed down some amazingly good dumplings while he tried to read what newspaper articles he could download from the satellites.
He was deep into an article about the growing tensions between the Kaiserlichen and the CDU when a pale, slender hand placed a bowl of red steaming liquid next to his pad. The owner smiled mockingly when he looked up.
"You forgot your Soljanka at the counter Jacub. Looks like you need it, otherwise, you'll spout more crazy ideas."
Jacub found himself on the back foot with Valera Morosov, not that this was a rare thing. He was defensive before he even realized that Leviathan's ice mage was hardly in a position to judge his proposal.
"We don't know whether it will work or not."
"No, we will find out when we are much closer to a Chaos Dwarf battleship or two. Makes me feel so much better about it. What gave you that idea anyways?"
"Reading about the battle of Pearl Harbor."
"Don't tell me somebody actually did this."
"On a somewhat bigger scale, but yes, they did. Worked after a fashion."
"After a fashion, oh joy."
"Better than running back with our tail between our legs after all the work we put into this endeavor."
"If we survive, yes. I hear that a normal human will survive three minutes in these waters. You know better?"
"No, sounds about right. Now that we have discussed my failings, imaginary and real, how about you? You refreshed the spell on the carrier yesterday. Managed without…trouble?"
Valera lowered her gaze to the table for a moment before she lifted her head again and looked directly at the engineer.
"No, I did not use Dr. Meissen's potions and it did not really stress me out, I am past that. But Jacub, this is getting ridiculous."
"Why?"
"What did I tell you about caring in Kislev? Family and very close friends, remember?"
"Yes, you said so. Yet, we are not in Kislev, so I can care if I want to."
"And right you are. So, my cabin or yours?"
"WHAT?"
Ziggurat, ZharrNaggrund
The floor before Martina Hartig was as clean as a lot of very frightened slaves could make it, not a speck of dust to be found. The German chemist was dead sure of that as her eyes were less than a foot from said ground. It was all that filled her field of view, besides the tip of a very black, very elegant boot.
She had long given up trying to keep the whimper from her voice. It seemed to tell Jasla that she did not pad her reports again and the terrible burning on her back would have made it difficult anyway.
"Please Mistress, it is as we predicted. The flowers your son gifted to us are doing a marvelous, even miraculous job in extracting the poison from the soil, he cannot be commended enough for that. But no one could say for sure how much heavy metal was in the ground. Extracting the top layers has leeched even more from below. We need at least two more plantings before the soil will be safe for DawiZharr, even more for you mistress."
Jasla was not loud, indeed Martina feared she might not hear something in her position. If the Druchii mage would think herself ignored the consequences would be too terrible to think about.
"The German ambassador has stated that food deliveries might slow down. He said it would be due to the weather, but we both know what the Reiksbund can do if they set their minds on it. They want to remind us of their hand on our throats. Do you believe I enjoy the feeling of being choked Martina? Do you believe I would lower myself to your level?"
"No, Mistress, never."
"Very well then. Promise me that we will have enough of this fertilizer when the soil is finally cleansed."
"Yes milady, we have. You can see it even from here, we will have enough."
"Better be, morsel, better be. If you think I was a bit rough with you the last time you failed, you would think it as a massage for what I would have to do if I have to excuse your failing in front of Lord Astragoth or my son. I might have to get creative."
Martina Hartig was too frightened to formulate a coherent reply, her whimpers were enough for Jasla.
Imperial Navy Headquarters, Salzenmund, Empire
The office had rough granite walls, as it was inside the old donjon. Several spots were slightly lighter, as its current owner had the tapestries removed. They had depicted the great victories of the Imperial Navy and had given way to a couple of filing cabinets. The desk was a massive, carved piece, the chairs old Germany. The door would have stopped a sword stroke or two and was presently closed as Henrik Gerber was engaged in a session of career advice, aka an ass-chewing. Given that he wanted to help his friend and former first officer saving face was as important as getting the message across.
"Hans, you are moping worse than a love-sick teenager. Yes, you have lost good men, that is hard for everybody. No, you are not guilty of anything there, as I and a dozen other people have told you. Which include the Emperor and the court which put all of your actions under a bloody microscope. What makes you think you know better than them?"
Hans Oels' voice managed to be weak and bitter at the same time.
"They were not there; they did not bury them…"
"No, they did not, and neither did they fight a submarine with guided torpedoes. We still do not know how it ended up here, but the best guess is you butted heads with a Daphne-Class with an experienced crew. In a ship that had only token antisubmarine armament and a crew with next to no training for that. Hans, you are both good and lucky to have survived this scrap. Bringing the vast majority of the crew, and the ship home was a bonus. I could not have done better, so get over it."
"But…"
"For now, I'll do the talking and you do the listening Hans, thank you very much. No, taking Altdorf away from you was not a punishment. It is the reality of the new Imperial Navy that we are making. You are not on half-pay and you do not have to beg for a new command every so often. In the old Imperial Navy, there were the ship's crews, some REMFs in the admiralty, and a lot of civilian contractors. Guess what, these days are over, we need a lot more people ashore and they better be guys and gals who have seen the Kraken. There is no way you will have sea-going postings all of the time, there will always be jobs here in Salzenmund. And no, that does not mean you get a pail, a shoveland head for the beach, we have real work to do. Or do you believe I do nothing all day? Take a look and I actually think you'll like your new job. If you really believe you have some penance to do, this is as good a place as any to have at it. And if you do as well as I think you will there is this FAC flotilla that will need a commodore in a few years…"
Hans Oels needed two tries until his voice was firm again.
"I will do my best where ever the Navy needs me. So, what is it what you will have me do?"
Henrik Gerber had been right, Hans Oels liked his new assignment and dug in. The Imperial Navy had decided that it needed its own Damage Control school, it fell to Oels to establish it. He set its tone for quite some time and the students took a certain pride in having survived the course. A mastery badge was as coveted in all navies in the Reiksbund as it was hard to achieve.
Pi: 3.149
The enemy had beaks, claws, tentacles, and scales, often at the same time. They had kaleidoscope eyes, one, three, or five, only a few just two. All were tunnels into madness or realities all too sane. Some did not run, not all of their feet touched the ground while doing so. Many slithered like snakes and some just came closer without any visible means of propulsion. The gaps in what armor they wore often shone with multicolored light and when their chests were opened, they rarely held recognizable organs. Nearly all of them struggled with the barbed wire belt that protected Malus Darkblade's forces, they all fell to bullets and shrapnel as well as their more mundane comrades.
Malus Darkblade had seen more warriors of Chaos during this campaign season than in all of his life before. His army had killed more of them than he had ever heard of before, even in the most outlandish of sagas. And while the killing went on, they had become more and more..strange. He suspected that these were from the deepest depths of the Chaos Desert. Their looks said so, many did not leave a corpse but vanished when they stopped moving. They seemed to have less unit cohesion and developed tactics, but made up for that in fearlessness and sheer ferocity. In the old days that would have allowed them to carry the day, now it entangled them in barbed wire that amputated their misshapen limbs and made them better targets for the machine guns.
And the Druchii warriors who wielded those guns were past experts at killing. They had outgrown their spears and crossbows, they embraced rifles, machine guns, flame throwers, and mortars with all their murdering hearts. No longer did the rifle regiments fire in neat salvos, the ragged sound of rifle fire was testimony to the rarest of battlefield achievements, well-aimed shots. They might be the few and the proud, but as long as they defended their lair they would not be beaten.
Malus Darkblade would have been far happier if they would not have fired rounds that had arrived two days before. He would have retreated long before, but the terrain opened up behind his current position. He could retreat further along his lifeline that was the railroad, but his flanks would no longer be protected by the mountains that surrounded him now. He would be surrounded and cut off in moments. Normally Chaos creatures such as the ones that bled multicolored blood into the snow before him would never last so far away from the Chaos Desert, something was stabilizing them. And unless he found and eliminated what- or whoever that was he had to defend or die in place.
He could just hope that the Witch-King would read Tevil Magestalker's report soon and finally reign that fat German in. Then he would gain the tools to do what needed to be done.
Tunnel below Hag Graef, Naggaroth
The lantern's light shone on the rough tunnel walls as its bearer ran down its length. The flickering flame illuminated the natural faces as well as the places where chisels had left their rough marks. The floor bore all the marks of similar work, it had never been smoothed by the passage of many feet. The slaves that had made it long ago had been killed as soon as they were finished, as were their overseers and their killers as well. The tunnel was known by a few and used by less, which was a good thing as far as Isilvar Darkmoon was concerned. If the tunnel would have been detected by the never-sufficiently-damned DawiZharr it would have granted direct access into his very fortress. Now it allowed him to escape certain death. Hag Graef's citizens defended every inch of it, taking a terrible price for every one of them. Still, they died doing so, singly or in groups and Isilvar thought the fallen might be the lucky ones. Giving in to a hunch that came to a being that had been on top of Hag Graef's intrigues, assassinations, and plots for centuries he had sent out his last two assassins. They were not to kill, but to gather that most precious of gifts, intelligence.
They had and one of them had actually made it back, even if he had not survived that by long. He had brought an inkling of why the Chaos Dwarfs had invaded Naggaroth at all. This tidbit of information might bring the Witch King's forgiveness for having cooked the numbers of modern weapons in Hag Graef way past its fair share. Isilvar had killed the assassin so that he was the only one with the news and was very sure that the worthy would understand. Now he could make good his escape instead of seeking a hero's death that would be far preferable to suffering Malekith's displeasure.
A shadow moved silently into the lantern's light and Isilvar brought his weapon to bear before recognizing his own bodyguard. Instead of shooting, he lifted an eyebrow minutely and the Druchii warrior just nodded. Isilvar had been quiet before, now he made no sound perceptible to the lesser races. The tunnel soon turned upwards and the spymaster doused what little light there was. The darkness seemed to close on him, making the passage seem even smaller and the air stale and hard to breathe. A hand in the tunnel wall provided the guidance he needed to continue his passage even slower than before. At first, it seemed a mirage, another of the green light that went in and out of his field of view, but soon enough the light of a quarter Morslieb helped his passage.
He emerged into the cold Naggaroth winter night and took neither heed of the brilliant stars nor the snow-bedecked mountains before him. He looked for the other members of his bodyguard and found one prone under an old tree. He had hidden well and made no movements that attracted attention, only Isilvar's fine true elven senses could perceive him. The same senses needed a second longer to parse the shape that struck out of the bodyguard's back. He jumped from where he stood before he had made a conscious decision to do so. Something large and soft missed him by a few centimeters and he pointed his revolver at a dark shape he barely saw. The muzzle flash illuminated a stocky Dwarf that clutched a polearm in his hands. He dropped it when two heavy lead wadcutters pierced his broad chest, leaving ruin in their wake. Something moved in the corner of Isilvar's eye and he fired in its general direction. His ringing ears still managed to hear the choking of his last bodyguard and he had to fight the temptation to look.
He managed to get close to the forest's edge when his foot tripped on something. He rolled with the momentum of his run and was about to regain his feet when something slipped by his neck and spiked metal pushed him forward into the snow. A booted foot pinned the hand holding the revolver, breaking bones in the process.
Isilvar was pinned under heavy, unyielding, stinking DawiZharr bodies when he heard the deep, cultured and amused voice of something more than Druchii.
"If you are so interested in my great work you would just have to ask. Allow me to introduce it to you in person."
Isilvar Darkmoon had seen every cruelty the Druchii were capable of and had endured much and inflicted even more on his way to the top. He was far too afraid to voice anything when he heard Mordred.
Leviathan, 800 kilometers from Kislevite Coast
Hartmut Klawitter's brow formed several lines when he saw the new lever that had been shoehorned into an already cramped cockpit. In theory, this sounded very useful, but whoever had come up with it was not flying a wooden biplane into combat. The mechanic that briefed him had been flown in with the same plane that brought the parts that attached to the simple lever. He seemed quite enthusiastic about his work.
"The system had been developed for the new Karaz-a-Karak to Karak Eight Peaks rally. You must have heard of it; they use the old underground roads now that they are mostly cleared. They have these armored off-road cars and allow only engines of Dawi construction. Pretty awesome and from what I hear they made a pretty penny from the TV-rights. They do not regulate the accessories too hard though and this is where this comes in.
You now have this pressure tank and do not worry, we placed it at the center of gravity. When you need lots of power right now you check that you are not overheating already and then you pull this lever. It will release N²O into the passage before the aftercooler and will provide for even cooler air. That means the supercharger can shovel even more air into the carburetors. And when all that lovely mixture reaches the cylinder the N²O will decompose, heat up the mix, and provide even more oxygen to burn.
I have changed the choke jet on your carbs to provide even more fuel for a much richer mix. It will give you a bit of soot on a cold start, but mix this and the nitrox, and I guarantee you quite a party. You must remember to pull the choke though, otherwise, otherwise your mix will be too lean to no end and you'll melt down the engine in no time flat."
"About how much of a party are we talking here?"
"We put it on a dyno at sea level and it peaked at 750 hp."
"750? This crate is good for 450 at most."
"No longer. Mind you the longest run we had was 11 minutes, after that we could see connecting rods without opening the engine. Keep it below five minutes and you should be safe enough."
Hartmut Klawitter's voice had more than a little skepticism in it.
"Care to be my co-pilot when I test this?"
"I don't see a co-pilots seat in this crate, so sorry. But probably beats crashing into the sea when you try to take off with too high a load, won't it?"
"Probably."
Hag Graef, Naggaroth
What little of Ernutan's Doomshakler's face normally visible through his beard was now hidden in his huge hands. His color party kept their distance as it would not do to watch their leader in this state. It was much safer that way, he would not have to kill them when he came to his senses again as not to spread the rumor of his weakness. Ernutan did not dwell on this at all, but if he did, he would have thought it meant they wanted no part of his shame. And his failure was inexcusable indeed. He had conquered Hag Graef in Lord Mordred's name indeed, inch by inch, stout DawiZharr warrior by DawiZharr warrior. Every hovel, every ally had been a battleground hard fought for, no piece of soil not drenched in the mingled blood of DawiZharr and Druchii alike. He had seen no other way to fulfill his mission and a generous Lord Mordred had tolerated his failings and sent reinforcements whenever he asked for them.
And now the same Lord Mordred had made his failings so clear when he captured the Druchii leader and stormed their command post with little loss. The Lord had given him well-trained, disciplined troops, weapons of great might, and above all his trust. How he had failed Lord Mordred…
Ernutan was so deep in his misery that he did not realize that his color party went elsewhere, did not see other Dawi take their places, and did not hear the soft footsteps approaching him.
The voice was deep, without the slightest bit of malice and warmed the soul.
"What ails you, my friend? It pains me to see such a stout warrior brought low. Anybody who discharged their duties to me so well should rejoice, not look into the abyss of despair."
One moment ago, Ernutan Doomshakler would not have thought to have the energy to move, now he seemed to jump in his eagerness to abase himself before Lord Mordred.
"I have dishonored myself, Milord, I did not see you coming. Praise be Milord, please have mercy with this unworthy.."
Mordred did not raise a voice that was as smooth as an oil slick on water. It stopped Ernutan's babbling cold.
"General Doomshackler, how in the Prince's name did you get the idea that you have failed me? You have discharged your duties in an exemplary manner, and I know no DawiZharr who could have done better."
"Milord, have you seen the graves? So many good DawiZharr dead as I found no better way to take this city in your name. My people, your people are not many and we take a long time to raise more of us, every loss is a tragedy. And I have lost so many."
"And from what little I know about warfare there was no better way to do it. Despite the losses, despite what it must have cost you and despite a ferocious enemy you managed to fight within the restrictions I placed upon you. How much it must have pained you and yet you never wavered Rise General Doomshackler, you are to be praised for your efforts."
The hand that touched Ernutan's neck was light as a feather, but the warmth that radiated from it felt like a blazing hearth. Like boiling lava, a stream of energy went through the DawiZharr's veins and lifted his body and spirit at the same time. To look at Lord Mordred's face was as to look at the bright sun itself, making Ernutan look downward after a brief moment.
"Come then my general, look at what your efforts have made possible. Watch so that you may know why I have to ask you to do even more in my name, of spending even more stout DawiZharr lives so my great work might be accomplished.
It took Ernutan and Mordred's party a while to reach the holding pens outside Hag Graef. He did not understand what he saw there at first and when an inkling reached his brain despair nearly overwhelmed Mordred's blessing. Before he could voice anything, the hand was back, as was the warmth and love that burned all doubts away.
Dark Tower, Naggarond, Naggaroth
Malus Darkblade's missive had taken quite the trip. The first part of the journey had been on board a train filled with the mangled refuse of an army under siege for far too long. Those on board had a decent chance of healing of mind and body, so they could serve the Witch King in some way. The others had been disposed of long before they could be a drain on the Druchii's resources. Then the courier had boarded a supply ship, making a fast trip hugging the coast and fearing the approach of a DawiZharr ship. Finally, a fast horse had brought the courier to the Witch King's court. Malus Darkblade's personal seal fast-tracked it to Malekith's daily reading. Most of the functionaries who handled the report would not dare to delay news from Malekith's chosen general. Others hoped he would finally supply enough rope to hang him with.
It was in a row of reports that told of lines barely held, lines of communications cut or endangered, and cities under threat. None of these brought any visible reaction but for a fast scribbling of questions and orders. The Witch King's scribes were adept in translating them into something readable which would bear Malekith's seal.Malus' report drew Naggaroth ruler's ire at first as Darkblade dabbled in things which were not his concern. Torsten Breitkopf and Neustadt answered to the Witch King alone, too much power, and Naggaroth's potential salvation was involved. Then he started to realize what the report really said, about slaves that were fed meat, about others working less than 12 hours a day with a day off. Even more incredible the report stated that Neustadt's precious resources were wasted nursing slaves who had outlived any usefulness. When he read about teaching children subjects they had no possible need to know witch fire could be seen coming from the Dark Tower's highest levels.
Kouran Darkhand did not cringe when the Witch King's summons reached him. He was the rarest of Druchii, loyal to Malekith to a fault and without the slightest shred of deceit. He had managed to rise to lead the Black Guards completely by his combat abilities and his ruthlessness. He had removed the halberd in his hands from the lifeless hands of his predecessor, while the rifle on his back was less than a year old. He came to attention before Malekith's desk and the very fact that he was permitted to do so, standing and with his arms spoke volumes about the trust Malekith placed in the Black Legion's captain.
"What is my liege's will?"
"I have received news from Malus Darkblade about Neustadt, news I can hardly believe. The report speaks of waste beyond reason, of slaves pampered and the useless nursed. This must be investigated to the fullest."
"The human Dread Lord is weak, all humans are."
"So, you hope Kouran and most are. I need you to take the Black Guard to Neustadt without delay. Check on this report, leave no stone unturned until you get to the meat of the matter. If you find nothing, I might well dispatch you north. But if you find this to be the truth you must stamp this out. Do not, under any circumstances, kill any of the Germans. You will protect their lives at all costs, they are too valuable to lose. Make sure production continues, whatever happens, we need every bullet and every gun."
"Your will be done my liege."
"More than ever Darkhand, this is crucial."
Half an hour after Malekith had given his orders the Black Guards' quarters were a beehive of activity with slaves running here, there, and everywhere. Horses had to be saddled, wagons to be packed, and provisions to be requested. This would take a while and the journey to Neustadt during winter was not to be underestimated. Most of the screaming was done by the Druchii, most of the labor was performed by the slaves. The slaves who nobody really saw, who were totally ignored when marching orders were discussed and rumors exchanged. One of the slaves managed to slip past her masters and made her way to one of the deepest cellars. She settled into a cross-legged posture on the dirty ground and cried. She took a while before her breathing went back to normal and her spine straightened. She pulled a small bag from under her garments and extracted a tiny amulet. She looked at it for long minutes before she cut her finger and drenched it in her blood. While she mouthed the words of power she had learned from her predecessor her eyes turned up till they showed only white. She kept like this for long minutes before she started to speak into the empty air for far less than that.
When she recovered from the ordeal she prayed the few words she had learned from her people before pulling the spoon from her shirt. It was her only real possession, the only thing that was indisputably hers. She had sharpened the handle during the last weeks whenever she was unobserved. It was still not sharp enough to open her arteries without much pain, but the cut was jagged enough to bleed profusely with every weakening heartbeat. She died less than ten minutes later, having escaped what the Druchii could do to her.
Neustadt, Naggaroth
Torsten Breitkop looked at the papers before him, but his brain did not parse what was on them. His brain was about to shut down from sheer exhaustion when the door to his office was thrown open and Anja stormed inside. Looking at his wife with incomprehension he was wide awake when she reached his desk.
"It is happening Torsten , they are on their way. My love, what can we do now?"
Otto? Hope he has a successor ready so no projects he is currently maintaining end up being forgotten.
