Berlin apartment, at night, 2 days later

Joakim Vos had learned a lot of things about Sophie. Like that she was a very good listener that she kept a surprisingly neat apartment, that she was a natural redhead and that she could be at least as temperamental as common cliché indicated.
He also found that certain strenuous activities still hurt in a lot of very different places which had made him take a serious dose of Tramal. The latter made him sleep like he had been assaulted with a club when combined with his exhaustion. This was a very nice end to one of the best days he had since the Weltensprung. He and Sophie had talked a lot during the last days and sharing his memories about the battle of Altdorf and seeing into an understanding face had helped him more than any session with a shrink that he could remember. The lovemaking that followed had capped this off gloriously and now he was sleeping as happy as a small child.
Sophie Wagenstein slipped out of the bed and went into her kitchen. Getting herself an Energy Drink she switched on her old Laptop and opened a new file.
The headline she finally hashed out was: "Battle of Altdorf caused by sheer stupidity."

wiki/STC#.UywPpYWBlOw
wiki/Sebastian_Edathy
wiki/Ground_effect_vehicle

School of the Reik Dormitory, Berlin, same time

There were some things about the meeting and the apartment that reminded Heinz Albers of his own studies. The furniture had a lot of second-hand pieces, the food was take-away pizza plus cheap red wine and the desk that was in the back part of the living room barely contained papers, books and a Laptop.
What was definitely different from his study times was the armor that hung on a rack in the same room, the hammer besides it or the stunning raven-haired beauty that fawned over his host. Not that Heinz had been celibate at the University and had met some beautiful women there, but Valten had taken a real prize it seemed. And from what the engineer had already learned she was not just a pretty facade either.

Valten himself was the same young man Heinz Albers had fought side-by-side during the siege of the Quarry-and yet he was different. Gone was the boiled-leather armor, he was now in Polo shirt and slacks. He was no longer holding his hammer at all times as it was attached to him, but ink stains indicated that he was writing a lot these days. And yet his physique had not waned in any way, actually he looked like he had gathered even more strength and his movements still had grace of a cat.

Between two bites of a deep-dish pizza Valten referred how the two had met: "Here I was getting stir-crazy from all these studies and not much exercise and another student recommends me to this gym. And there Andrea is giving lessons in taek-won-do. She gives me a split lip and a blue eye when I was gawking too much at her to pay attention. So here I am, in love with a woman which is a beautiful as she is tough-how much better can life get?"
When the laughter was running down Heinz thought it was time to go for his target. "So besides getting your ass whupped-how is life treating you?"
"Very very nice Heinz, could not be better in any way. The Emperor has granted me a stipend that allows me to concentrate on my studies without having to take job-which is a good thing as I started out as an ignorant smith and even had to learn to read and write for real. I have met great minds, I get thought by the best and a whole new universe can be seen. A strange place to be sure and frightening at times but mostly exiting. Such possibilities-I never thought... Heinz it is as if I have always only lived in a small room in a big house and thought that it was the whole world. And now I get a glimpse at the world, just a hint, and it is grandiose. So much to learn, so much to master, it boggles the mind. The biggest challenge is choosing what is the most important to learn and what would just be nice to know."

"Sounds great, enjoy it while it lasts. Looking back my studies were one of the best times of my life."
"I need no looking back for that-I already know it."
"Heard of Father Hus lately"
"Ah-that is where the wind is coming from. Did the good Father send you?"
"I would have come around on my own-scouts honor-but yes, he asked me to have a look."
"Don`t fash yourself-better you send him some info than he worries even more-or sends somebody else. But to get back to him-he writes me letters from time to time and I answer. I just get the feeling that he does not like the answers."
"Why?"
"Oh, he warns me of pitfalls and dangers that I have seen, evaluated and heartily enjoy."
"What is he worried about?"
"What do you think-loose woman, drugs, alcohol and above all independent thinking."

"And you checked them all?"
"Ah-weed is for people who will be potted plants in their next life, too much of this wine and Andrea kicks my ass again next morning and independent thoughts I revel in. But I have this feeling the Father is not so much interested in my Alcohol input or whether I screw myself silly."
"But?"
"But he is interested in whether he can use me in his crusade to reform the Cult of Sigmar when I a go back to the Empire or whether I will be a pawn of the Emperor in future now that I have accepted his coin."
"Uff, I do not think that is all that Father Hus is worried about"
"No, it is not, but it is his main concern. He is a believer, a fanatic and a crusader. And taken in the right dose that is a good thing-the Cult of Sigmar needs reform badly, especially in light of the new times we all find ourselves in. But too much of that, and especially the brand Hus wants to dispense will rip the Empire apart, not heal it."
"That sounds serious-you sure."
"Dead sure. I have access to libraries now that would make the good Father weep. I have read up on Calvin, Hus and Lutter in your world on recommendation of my teachers. That is not a good role model to follow-there must be something else."
"So anything I can tell Father Hus?"

"Yes, whatever he thinks-I am not Sigmar`s second coming-I am Valten, I live in a different world and I will try to become the best Valten I can be, not an ignorant fool who is fast with a Hammer. If he wants to drive corruption from the Cult and still wants my help in that if I am done here I am game. If he wants me to lead a crusade to kill all he deems deviant I am off."
"Sounds like you need my advice like the clap"
"I need your friendship and your advice-I learn so much, but lack the background knowledge to compare it to. Andrea helps, my Tutors do as well and Father Hus will when he comes around-but you have experience in Germany and the Empire both, that will help most."
"I`ll be glad to help, but I cannot stay here for too long"
"They do not have E-Mails where you are going?"
"Sigmar, who is the ignorant barbarian about here?"

Road near Hautmont, Bretonia, late next evening

"Make way, make way for the Seigneur Giles de Raimes, make way" The herald galloped up and down the road, clearing the way for his master. The small mule-drawn coach lingered on the road long enough that he was about to employ his whip when the driver found a small crossing into a field that did not require him to push his cart into the drainage ditch that bordered the road in most places. A couple of men and women on or at the coach watched the party rode by. None of them were deigning them a full look, but there were many glances. "Guerier et ries" was painted on the cloth of the wagons cover. Anybody who cared assumed that the Wagon belonged to a group of carneys who offered entertainment and a little bit of healing potions. While officially the helpers of the Lady were supposed to be the main healers they were often thin on the ground and expensive. So any Liege with more sense that a worm ignored them as they gave the serfs a little bit of extra hope and entertainment.

That did not mean they were well-received and anybody who wanted to give such a group a beating was entitled too, but they were tolerated. This group looked especially motely with ill-matching clothes, half of them without shoes and not enough space on the carriage for all of them, but who cared.
The group continued on it way till the evening and then made a small campsite in a copse of wood that offered a little additional shelter from the autumn chill. The small fire heated up some bacon on something that probably doubled as a shovel and something spicy was cooking in a battered pot.
The wind rustled the twigs of the surrounding trees, probably a bit too much when the biggest member of the group got up, snatched his long staff and moved to one of them. Before more could happen a darkly clad man stood up.

"Salut mes Amis-I am Rene of Valois, I think I have been announced-non?"
"Right you were you sneaky bugger. But if that is so you are supposed to say something, don`t you?"
"Pardon, what?"
"Ah, you have to excuse good Andy Thrope here, he is still catching up with his Breton. I am Jean of Dubois and as Andy tried to say you are supposed to give Parole."
"Oh, that. "Liberte"
"That is right-oh "Egalite" by the way. Sit down man and get yourself something to eat."
Some munching later the swarthy newcomer found more time to explain himself. "Marquis de Valois gave word that you would help serfs who wanted to leave from Bretonia-is he right?"
"Damn right-ah oui."
"Good. The Marquis is known to be quite good with the serfs so during the last two years a lot of runaways have come to his estates. It is hard to feed and hide them and so he would be more than happy if you can lead a group of them to Allemange and a better life."
"Sounds good to me-how many, can they all walk and when will they be there?"
"42 overall-mostly adults with a few children, but all can walk well or are small enough to be carried easily. They could be here in a few days."
"We go to Hautmont first and make our show-we should be back in 6 days then. Be there then."
"That we will do."

Berlin Apartment, a little later

Sophie Wagenstein put the final paragraph into the file she had been working on. "To sum it up all the loss of life could have been avoided of German armed forces would not have been in places where they do not belong and if they would not have placed high-powered explosives in the hand of unschooled barbarians. We are to blame for this disaster and no amount of disaster aid and development will make things right."
Ah fuck, it sounded badly even to her ears and did not sum up what Joakim had told her at all, but would play well with the newspaper that was offering her an internship. But probably it would be better to think things over a little and then to correct.

Getting back into the bedroom she did not go back into bed but watched the quiet shape of the soldier there in the moonlight coming through the window. The man seemed so much at rest now, quiet and relaxed. It was hard to connect this picture to the man driven by what he had seen and done during the last months. He had not been boastful-and it looked like he had no need for that. Instead he had been wounded by doing his very best-and his very best not being enough to keep so many from being maimed and killed. He knew intellectually that this was not his fault-but his heart would take a much longer time to arrive at the same conclusion, if ever. Their long conversations seemed to have helped, but what she was about to do would likely open new wounds. Fuck.
She watched the man she had made passionate love with for more than an hour before pulling her shoulders up in a melancholic shrug. Some things could not be helped.

Looking at her computer again and reading what she had wrought earlier made the decision easier.
"We are to blame for this disaster and no amount of disaster aid and development will make things right."
"Ctrl+A"
"Del"
"Nobody can be sure what caused the flooding of the Skaven warren under Altdorf. Nobody could doubt that this was a devastating disaster that befell the Skaven. But at the same time nobody and nothing forced the Skaven to attack the citizens of Altdorf and to massacre as many of them as they could before they were put down. Even if they believed rightly or wrongly that they were under attack they could have charged the human armed forces in and around Altdorf and could have made an effort into saving their civilians. But they did not-their final act in this disaster for everybody was an orgy of bloodshed and destruction that really was not needed. An orgy that could have been much worse but for many good women and men who did their best to protect and heal.
This is their story."

It took her half of the night to write this, but it felt far easier than before. When she had to correct "wounded" three times in a row she decided that enough was enough and slipped back into her bedroom. By that time the birds were signing and the sun started to rise. No matter, she was pretty sure her lover would sleep for a couple of more hours. She had quite a smile on her face when she drifted into sleep.

Landungsbrücken, Hamburg, next morning

The construction workers were erecting a wall inside the entrance that in earlier times led into the Elbe Tunnel. Built a hundred years ago the tunnel that connected the City Center with the harbor and yards on the other side of the Elbe had been a mechanical marvel when it was finished. Built deep under the river in unstable loam and sand it used a couple of elevators to bring lorries and cars into the tunnel proper or lift them back up at the other side.
Now it would have to be renovated from the ground up-and that would have cost a cool 100 million Euro. Before the Weltensprung that might have been doable, especially because the old tunnel was a renowned landmark, but in a Germany that was struggling to survive it would not work out.
It was another remnant of a world that was no longer open to the Germans, but need must when the devil drives.
wiki/Elbe_Tunnel_%281911%29

Ibrahim Dürr´s office, Wiesbaden, next day

Ibrahim Dürr contemplated if it had something to do with the shared family name or if above average magical talent made you eccentric or you had to be to begin with.
Unlike yesterday with the informative talk with Gregor, today he had a likewise informative talk about magic with a Günter Koch with equally unusual gestus as his resident computer wiz. Still, there were differences. Gregor Koch was a bit of a messy, Günter was more classy, but deliberately special when it came to clothes. The apprentice sorcerer actually wore stuff Gregor would never wear nor recognise. The pointy, elegant shoes had patent lace tips, the black jeans were designer trousers, Ibrahim estimated Trussardi. The blue-hued shirt was from Versace, the neckcloth was coloured like the Winds of Magic. This bandana showed a person learning magic, but still had not decided which wind to follow. The most eye-catching piece of cloth was the coat Günter wore. A retro-designed heavy leather officer´s coat. The special thing about his complete set of clothes was the casualness how Günter wore them.

He looked more like a police officer of old than many of Ibrahim´s collegues and the Kommisar doubted that it was chance. But what mattered more was the magical expertise of the apprentice. Günter Koch was one a few Germans in the accelerated, advanced program set up by the Imperial Mages and his talent and knowledge showed. The information about the Banshees was really good, but Ibrahim was now more interested in the magic of the Dark Elves.

"The Darkies, well, they are good at Necromancy. Really good, but wasteful."

"Wasteful?"

"Magic can be done in various ways. Taking what you need and form it or just grab the Winds and compress it into the form you want. While using Dark Magic always has a bit of grabing the Winds which are present, the true masters can make it into a Dark Art.
The Darkies normally sacrifice slaves to power stronger spells or rituals, far more than are 'needed'. On the contrary, practicioners like Zacharias or Nagash do not need mass sacrifice. The Dark Elves are a danger to all societies."

French Occupation Zone, Wasteland, Earth, another time

The red painted Container sat pretty much alone in the marshy part of the Wasteland. It bore the logo of the "Compagnie d'Exploration Pétrolière" and contained a couple of apprehensive engineers. "So you still think this is a big waste of time?"
"Yes-why should any deposit be here? Makes no sense"
"So, this Wasteland makes no sense anyway. Might as well try here."
"Yes, but why here of all places. I wouldn`t know of any other place where we search, just here."
"Beats me. I asked the same question and just got "the location came from the very highest source" whatever that means."
"Well, no matter. We go in 3..2..1" The rumble of explosions outside negated any need for a continued count. Lots of geophones listened for the echoes that were reflected from various strata in the ground below them. In the old days it would have taken quite some time before any results were in, but with much faster computers the picture began to build up soon.
"Merde-somebody knew more than he was letting on."
"Looks that way."

During the next weeks a series of drills established a more accurate picture of the geology and a second set of blasting was conducted, this time with far more geophones to give a 3D-picture. Then the drilling began for real and it became obvious that the French part of the Wasteland was on top of an oil field. A big oil field-bigger than what was left in the North Sea, bigger than many Middle East fields-it was huge. Furthermore it was well pressurized and it yielded light, sweet crude that went well into the refineries.

All of a sudden the French state had a huge influx of money into its coffers which played well into a slowly recovering European economy. The French President was ecstatic as he might well be-his popularity soared immensely. He had no way of showing the public that the exploration was done due to info he had provided-that would have raised awkward questions. But the rising tide lifted all ships-his included.
It was funny how juicy scandals had weakened several of his closest rivals, especially as there were no ties between the Scandals and info from the Elysee-where the info was coming from nobody seemed to know. President Hollande himself had an idea who might be behind it but was surely not telling.

This was the sum of knowledge that scientists on Earth had about warpstone-nobody knew anything and so nobody checked for it. And so when the Renaults and Citroens exhausted the petrol distilled from the new oil the fumes of warpstone were dissipating through the environment, introducing magic into a world that had never known it to any big extend.

The warp reverberated with a strange sound-the closest analogy in human terms would be a chuckle issued by a beak of ships size at the sound level of a landslide.

Despoiler Battleship "Fortress of Agony" Hurikan System, Another Universe, Another time

Eldred Skyrax craved sensations and grand emotions like any other follower of Slaneesh. Whereas other looked for these in the depths of creative torture, boundless sexuality or the consumption of ever more powerful drugs he had found another way to serve his needs. Scores of the finest wires went from his shaven skull and met a jeweled port of the finest design. Yet he was no simple wirehead stimulating his pleasure centers till they burned out. He had devised ways to route the data provided by the ancient senor suite of the great battleship directly into his brain where nerve clusters had formed to interpret them.
While his body was surrounded by several kilometers of war engine, meters of armor and a multitude of Chaos Worshipers he saw himself alone in the Abyss, taking in the Universe directly. He saw the light of the systems sun and its reflections, he heard the chatter of the many ships that were either refitting or patrolling the system. He felt the caress of many surveillance and targeting systems on his alloy "skin" from several of these ships and the sprawling network of orbital fortresses that surrounded the planet below like an iron halo. It was glorious and he could have enjoyed it forever. It made him the ultimate sensor operator for a warship-provided he could coaxed into paying attention to his meat body and his place in the crew.

"KILLFRENZY KILLFRENZY KILLFRENZY KILL..." Great Slaneesh, not again.
Eldred put in a filter that spared him the message that was broadcast by a nearby "Slaughter" class cruiser, broadcast by the ship, not its crew that was. That ship, together with a "Murder" class and several "Iconoclast" destroyers made up the Fleet of Exalted Grand Admiral Credeli. It was one of the several fleets that had thrown in their lot with the Iron Warriors and patrolled this system in exchange for docking rights and other payments. Personally Skyrax despised the dour Chaos Marines that were so willingly cutting themselves of the sensations of the flesh, but nobody could deny their fighting prowess.
This system was as safe a refuge as most if not much better and allowed the Chaos Raiders and pirates a base for rest, refit and the consumption of their ill-gotten loot. The Slanesh-worshiper was looking at the emanations of a far-away quasar which pulsed just in the right way to rouse his lust when much closer and much more immediate sensations took his attention away.

More than a hundred thousand kilometer away-next door so to speak-space under pressure from "outside", bent and shifted in contortions and wondrous colors till it ruptured and gave a tantalizing glimpse into the warp. An immense ship emerged from the short-lived portal. At least as long as the "Fortress of Agony" it was about as massive, if not more so. Less beautifully detailed than his vessel it was mostly red and sported the cog design of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
The sensor operator was baffled-what the hell were the cogboys doing here. And-even more puzzling-why did they send a Mechanicus Arc. He had been a sensor operator for several centuries but had never seen one in the many raids of the "Fortress"-some of his shipmates considered the Battleships that were said to be on an eternal quest for lost technologies mere myths.
His fingers moved and his vocal apparatus worked without him being really aware of it. Such things were unconscious reflexes by now. He knew that klaxons would sound throughout the ships and that messages were exchanged with the other ships of the squadron.

Around him servitors and crew were taking positions, sensor systems were activated, weapons were loaded which ammunition or charged, shields powered up and fighters were readied in the Despoilers roomy hangars. None of this managed to impress itself on Eldred who was bound in speechless wonder when more and more warp portals opened and disgorged ship upon ship. The misguided worshippers of the Carrion god were making a real incursion into this system. This was no raid, no misjump-this was a major attack.
None of this would have fazed the Chaos officer so much-what held his mind in thrall were the core of the enemy fleet. Mechanicus Arcs were so rare than many held them to be mere space stories-and there were 5 of them in clear view.
They were not alone-they were accompanied by other Battleships, scores of cruisers and shoals of destroyers. There seemed to be a squadron of Space Marine ships as well, holding back markedly. All the wonder could not keep him from noticing that the ships were turning their armored prows into his direction.

Mechanicus Arc "Ommnisiah Victory", nearly same place and time

The Venerated Arc Magos Hel Karbor had been human once, but that was hard to tell by now. He was covered by a robe and cowl but even so the proportions were off, the many mechanical limbs that were waiving around him, claws that replaced the feet and the whirring sounds that emanated from his torso made him look more like a robot than human-and he liked it that way. His face was his way to express irony-it showed porcelain-white even features of eldritch beauty and was totally unmoving as it was a painted mask on steel.
Currently he watched the fleet unfold from the warp and registered that nearly everybody had shown up at the appointed time and place. Using a rally point in a nearby system had paid off and from the enemy`s disposition it looked like they had not been detected prematurely because of that.
The holosphere in front of him became more crowded by the second when then sensors detected the enemy. There were a lot of ships in the system and even more fortifications could be discerned, yet most of them were far away from him, others were obviously not ready to fight so he could concentrate his forces on those that were close and ready to fight.
Lines of runes on the screen before him told the story of a successful connection between his ships fire control and that of his squadron-this was managed by an arcane device of archeao-tech that had been found millennia ago. How to make more was no longer known, as was the reasoning that had made its finder call it "Aegis"

Any starship of appreciable size was protected by void shields, often multiple ones that kept small impacts and energy weapons off their hulls, a dire necessity when travelling at speeds that could be described in percentages of C. Even more useful in combat they kept the hulls of ships from most harm unless they were overwhelmed-and that was best accomplished by the simultaneous fire of several ships. Taking this task from feeble organic minds and putting it to an electronic solution suited the Mechanicum fine-just how to swing this at the distances of space eluded them so far. But maybe it would not do so any more very soon; there had been an incredible discovery.
For now the Aegis on his ship would have to do.
One of his Mechandrites touched an icon inside the holosphere, coloring it red-that one would make a good beginning.

Several kilometers away from the archmagos to the bow of the mighty ship rites were chanted, incense was burned, sanctified oil spread, valves opened and fuses set. Finally the orders were relayed and connections made. The real firing order was given by the Aegis system.
Inside a barrel with a caliber of several meters and explosion fit to level a small city started the shell down the barrel. When it travelled downwards it was accelerated by coils built into the walls until it had reached a speed where relativistic effects were easily measurable. It was fired from a ship with a mass of millions of tons-the shot decelerated the Arc quite a lot and shook everybody on board like mere rats.

The shell crossed the distance to the target within seconds. Blind to its surroundings it could only count time, which it did with infinite precision. When the time came a small ball of plutonium was compressed by a carefully shaped charges placed around it. The fission event that followed yielded a couple of kilotons of energy, but this was just the burster charge for bigger things to come. The shell was mostly filled by Bucky Balls-Carbon molecules shaped like a soccer ball. Inside each atom rested an atomic nucleus with a negative charge, repelled by the electron shells of the carbon atoms.
When confronted with the energy of the fission reaction the Bucky Balls turned into plasma-and released their cores of antimatter. More than a ton of antimatter reacted immediately with the same amount of "normal" matter, yielding energies normally associated with stellar events.

Five such shells detonated simultaneously between the ships of Exalted Grand Admiral Credeli`s fleet. The sensors in all nearby ships were overwhelmed for seconds, but when the plot cleared again it showed utter destruction. Both cruisers had lost their shields and the "Murder" class had scorch marks that spoke of more damage. Several of the Iconoclasts were rapidly dissipating gas now and whatever small craft the Despoiler had managed to deploy before the shells arrived were nowhere to be found.
Hel Karbor went down a menu of his internal systems and triggered an artificial gland that secreted a mixture of chemicals into his bloodstream. What was left of his organic brain felt pride and joy and even the crystal parts had intense activity. All of that lasted for 2.9 seconds before he went at the holosphere again, marking icons in sequence.

Despoiler Battleship "Fortress of Agony" same time

Eldred Skyrax was still speechless, but this time not at the beauty of the universe but for the utter destruction that had been meted out so quickly. He had felt the burn of the explosions against the "Fortress" hull if his own skin were burned and relished the sensation. Unfortunately the explosions had also destroyed numerous sensors he relied on and he had to reroute lines, open shutters which hid replacements and switch to other sources.
When the picture stabilized again he did not like what he saw any. The Mechanicum Arcs had formed into a wall that aimed to pass his squadron, planning to rake his ships with their broadsides at close range. The Chaos ships outranged their imperial counterparts considerably but there would only be a short window where they could inflict harm before there would be return fire. He could already "see" the streams of fighters and bombers that were catapulted from the "Fortress" bays, they made their way towards the enemy. While the "Murder" class cruiser turned with the "Fortress" the "Killfrenzy" accelerated towards the enemy. The damage suffered by the cruiser obviously had angered the demon that suffused the ship so much that it forgot about squadron or sensible tactics.

The sensor operator saw shoals of Torpedoes that were fired by imperial cruisers speed towards his ship, saw fighter squadrons peel off to intercept as many of them as possible. He also saw the many close-in defense systems of the Arcs clobbering the bomber squadrons that approached unescorted and the few survivors failed to deal appreciable damage.
The weapon batteries on all three ships went out, but only the "Fortress" and the "Murder" coordinated targets, the fire of the "Killfrenzy" was wasted on the shields of another Arc.
The weapons employed by the Chaos ships were mighty to behold. Energies that would suffice to glass the surface of a big country in one salvo were projected against shields that were made to stop exactly this kind of onslaught. No normal eye could have witnessed it but Eldred saw and felt the titanic discharges of energy, the deflection of powerful strikes and the overload that claimed shield of shield. He dared to hope when the protection of an arc failed in an explosion of colors and more strikes impacting on the bow of the craft. Yet, when the debris cleared it became only too obvious that only armor had been damaged.

And then the enemy was close enough to reply. No shields were in the way of the shots and the sensor operator was treated to the sight of the "Killfrenzy" which was the target of the Mechanicums wrath. The ship was struck from the opposite side so at first she seemed to be surrounded by a shining halo before she started to glow on his side as well. She did not do so for long, her eternal signal of "Killfrenzy" stopped when an explosion took half the ship.
The next salvo from both Chaos survivors struck a ship which no longer had shields. Most hits just ablated armor, but some of them destroyed weapons mounts and sensors. The strike killed the equivalent of a city in crewmembers-and the ship fought on.
Eldred was amazed at the Close-in defense of the cogboys-so many weapons and some had so much range they could actually also defend nearby ships in the same squadron. No wonder the bomber attacks had been a waste.
The return fire received by the squadron concentrated on the damaged "Murder" and the results were even more devastating. Instead of the explosion of some warheads the warp engine malfunctioned drastically, ripping open the thin surface of reality and opening the warp to the world for a short time. Eldred was always hungry for new sights and had an intense look at his future-and did not like it any.

Battle Barge "Holmgang"

Loren Grimmar watched the plot in front of it with quiet intensity, only letting of a howl when the last two enemy ships in their way annihilated each other. "I did not know the walking spanners had it in them, but this looks good. Shall we lay course for Hurikan II?"
"Don´t dismiss them too much Loren-I heard things about their civil war on Mars that made even me cringe. But they hold up their end of the bargain all right-lets get to our part. Leman Rus turned to Captain Ulfgar. "Set course to Hurikan. Make sure the cogboys do not get too far ahead."
"Aye Aye Partiarch"

Premises of "Laurenz and Klement" Altdorf, afternoon of the next day

Neidhard Klement put the postage stamp on the letter himself. He could have an employee doing it, but he still marveled at this new service, Instead of sending messages and letters and paying the courier by the recipient these days you paid up front.
The bundling of many letters and parcels for most of the trip allowed for a very very cheap price compared to what he was used to in the past-and the speed was simply amazing. Letters he send to his business partner in Hamburg arrived no later than 2 days after he sent them-how fast was that. Actually letters to much closer destinations still could take much longer-where the railways did not reach yet, the speed slowed to what he was used to.
If something was really urgent to a remote location he could write a letter on a special lightweight paper and pay a hefty surcharge-then the air mail would deliver it at what seemed like lightning speed.

The "Storch" planes of the "Kaiserlich-deutsche Post" would land in the smallest places and started to bring very far places in the Empire much closer to the center.
Some of the newest Storch pilots were even from the Empire now and of course all boys-including his son damnit-wanted to become pilots.

He himself liked the small precise pictures shown by the stamps, like small pieces of art-he had heard of people who collected them and could understand that. Actually he waited for a parcel send from Hamburg, said to contain a special book for collecting stamps.

"Knock Knock"
"Enter"
"Master Klement, your 11:00 appointment is there."
"Bring her in please and bring some tea."
"Yes Master" His secretary brought in a 40-ish pudgy blonde women bearing an medium-sized parcel into the traders office.
"Good morning Mrs. Winkler, nice to see you again."
"And a good morning to you Master Klement. I bring you the greetings of my husband who is unfortunately not able to attend. He asks if all is well with you and your pocket calculator?"
"Oh yes, we are well, among other things as we have taken his "double entry bookkeeping" up early, now it is required of all traders in Altdorf by the damn thieves-err the tax office. Many of my competitors had to pay catch-up and engage costly German advisors."
"That is nice to hear. I still have very fond memories of the weekend on your barque."
"I hope so. Now, you told me you have a business proposal for me."
"Yes, I do. I think with all the changes in the Empire there is now a market for an old machine that would be new here. I have brought a small version of one."

Opening her packet she took a strange little device out, it features a stand, a drum with an outside gear and a crank with another gear which gripped into it.
"What is this?"
"This is a hand-operated washing machine. You put the laundry and the soap in here and then fill with water with the right temperature here-then you turn this crank for 20 minutes and you are done. It allows the user to wash at a much higher temperature while using less detergent and gives much better results than standard hand washing. Also the fabrics last longer than if you use a washing board. Just do not use it on silk or brocade, you would not like the results.
This one is mostly plastic, but similar and bigger models can be easily made from bronze and wood or zinc-plated steel"
"Uff, this is not really my area of expertise, but whom do you think you can sell this to?"
"Oh, first off there are all the Farmers in the railroad villages: They are rich enough to have several sets of clothing and they have received so many German lessons about keeping things clean-and by now they see these lessons pay off.
By tradition these farmers do not have many servants-and certainly no maidservants. So if you give the wives something to make washing easier then they will pester their husbands to buy one-like with the stove craziness during the last year."
"That would be one market that I can see too-any other you have in mind?"
"Oh there will be enough burghers in the bigger cities who have similar needs these days. Now that clothing is so much cheaper and there are more paying jobs there should be. And then there is the order of Shallya…"
"What about them?"
"Oh, they like to cook their laundry to kill the germs. And believe me; with this machine it is much easier."
"So you think your husband would recommend them."
"If the machines are well made and priced-yes"
"Then we need to talk to somebody I know in Nuln. Tell you what-you show us how this works, leave it here for a while and if it my servants say it helps then we go ahead."
"Is one week enough for a decision"
"Easily. And now please come, my wife is dying to talk to you. She has seen pictures of the fashions in Berlin and wants to know…."