Sparkasse Holstein (Savings&Loans Holstein) Ahrensburg, North Germany, two days later
The Managers office was quiet now that normal banking hour were over and the internal proceedings were taken care of. Mathias Knull had a little time to sit back and think about the drastic changes that Germany economy had undergone in the last 2.5 years. While Germany had a very active and diverse industry it had been largely oriented to exports and been a part of a global network of suppliers and customers that disappeared literally overnight.
Being depended on a great variety of raw materials had just been the most immediate problem and one that was getting better every day, sometimes incrementally and mostly by leaps and bounds.
The rationing of many essentials had been lifted by now with a few exceptions. Here rationing was heavily modified-everybody was allowed to buy a certain amount of heating oil or petrol at a set price, the rest was market supply. But every month the list of such commodities became shorter and lots of people breathed more easily that way.
A slower acting but at least as dangerous and difficult problem was how to keep technology and civilization running. So many items produced or simply used in Germany had been partly or whole made outside Germany. Volkswagen for example had to shut down production after a few weeks past the Weltensprung as components were running out and new suppliers had to be found. Production lines had been revamped and the ratio of parts made at VAG group itself had drastically increased. A great lot of cars were no longer produced, others now cost more.
Manufactures were in an interesting situation right now-either their products were no longer required at all or at a very reduced rate-or they were ripped from the production lines as soon as they were made. Marketing and advertising were seriously reduced these days-the need was no longer really there.
All this revamping of production lines, of producing parts never produced before at a site or in Germany at all, of retraining of workers and setting up new factories had required immense capital-still did in fact-and a hell of a lot of coordination.
Germany had two historical examples how to handle that and promptly turned to them. The capital needs were taken care of by something that had been a characteristic of West Germany from WW2`s end till the 80`s or so.
When many German firms had to restart from practically zero except for their workforce and property banks gave them credit-in exchange for shares. It had created an intensely interconnected network that Anglo-Saxon commentators had called the "Deutschland-AG" (Germany Inc.) The back up for this financing had partly been done by Marshall Plan, some by fiat money-and it had worked.
Now the backing was the KfW and the Bundesbank and to nearly everybody's surprise it was working again-after a fashion.
This was not just a thing for the big stock companies-on a more local level Knull`s S&L was the partner in a medium-sized flock of Ltd.`s, many of them newly founded to make some parts that were dirt cheap before and now valued in Gold to keep something important running. Others were taking advantage of the new opportunities that had opened up-one of the new companies he had help set up brokered the services of Jade Mages to farmers where they performed spectacular feats.
The coordination part was solved by going back to an even older role model. For the first two months after the beginning of WW1 the German economy had been in a state of confusion before things settled down. Then under the "friendly guidance" of the General Staff the German producers had organized themselves in to "Arbeitskreise" (boards) and divided the workload by themselves. It had worked rather well when once factored the ever worsening raw materials situation and the lack of workers. Nobody would call it "Kriegswirtschaft" (War Economy) now of course, but "Krisenwirtschaft" (Economy of Emergency) fit the bill.
And it would be so 20th century to actually meet in smoke-filled rooms and personally discuss this division-SAP had made standard software for that and now any company with aspirations to produce something was using it to see what was needed and offered on the quick.
As the finance thing it worked, after a fashion. Knull was one of those who would go back to old Earth in a heartbeat-he missed the foreign trips on holidays quite a lot and had been quite particular for scuba diving in the Red Sea. But seeing how an economy transformed itself with breakneck speed into something not seen before-that was interesting and exhilarating in its own way.
Neustadt, Naggaroth, next afternoon
Areta Bane stood at attention as rigidly as she ever had in her life. True-she was now Platoon Leader Bane, and her platoon was one of the new Heavy Weapons Platoons the Auxilia had received, which meant a lot.
She was a seasoned veteran now and part of a unit which had taken part in a difficult campaign-and had handed their enemies their heads. Neustadt had finally gotten their mechanical spinning and weaving to the point where they could afford to clothe the Auxilia in new deeply black uniforms that came together with partial armor. Her feet were now clad in "Desert Boots", something the veterans of the recent campaign could value most.
All of this should have made her feel competent and relaxed at the review. Just that was not appropriate when they were reviewed by Malekith himself who had descended on Neustadt from the Iron Fortress.
Veteran or newbie, Druchii or German, nobody could help being impressed by the Witch King. Towering above any of the attendant his armor and helmet could not mask the torrent of emotions that lay molecules deep under the iron control he exercised about them.
The King radiated terrible willpower and violence and was polite and suave at the same time. It was frightening to the max.
The muster had gone well-given that Bo Swaggert, their old drill sergeant, had been running around since it could not have been different-and now the Witch King was addressing the troops.
"Claus, Son of Tolles, when I hired the Black Company I was really not sure what to expect. I had hoped that you would do well against the Hung and that you could show us some new tricks. And here you have within one year transformed a devastated valley into an area which produces marvels. You have shown us new ways to use our slaves better-something we were really sure to be experts in. And your knack for taking broken things and make them better did not stop there. You have taken Druchii who, for whatever reason were about to fail in their duties to me and their Dread Lords and have transformed them into one of the most powerful units that we have. Well done.
For you, the Auxilia the transformation was the most astonishing of all. When you were sent here it was your last chance-and you used it better than anybody could imagine. Welcome back to the ranks, True Elves. I hear that the Black Company has taken a vote and granted you a flag.
On cue Wolfgang Böhler stepped forward and lifted a flagpole, unfurling the new Flag for all to see. Unsurprisingly it took up the Black Flag from their Parent Company, adding a Druchii Skull with crossed Rifles below. 1st. Auxilia was shown above the Skulls and below the motto "How may we help you"
Even in the presence of Malekith this drew laughter as well as ovations.
It was much later that Malekith had shed his armor for the first time in days. He had taken Quarter in Jasla`s house which came closest to a decent quarter in this outback. He started to like some of the upgrades this place had received. This "Hot Shower" thing had to go into the Iron Fortress for sure and the toilet seemed to be a lot nicer then what he was used to.
He had used both and was now in a comfortable in a robe on the Ottoman of Jasla`s amusement suite and was attended by her. What a day. The decision to take in the German mercs had been an experiment and a huge risk. At first he was pretty sure that they would fail against the Hung and he could use the survivors knowledge and weapons. And now they proved to be remarkable effective in transforming the Druchii into something much more powerful.
Being largely unobserved he allowed himself a shiver when he thought about the video he had seen. "Manhattan Project" indeed. What could he do if he had such power – the possibilities would be limitless. And the Germans were leading the True Elves on the path to such power. And he controlled them-yesss.
The self-praise of having taken a very good decision and the dreams of power and destruction that came from it raised his desire as few things had done recently. Too bad-his normal coven of concubines were not on this trip.
His eyes fell on Jasla-and he liked what he saw. The time with the Germans had done her good it looked like. She was in a better shape than one would expect from a mage-the Germans marched into battle it seemed- yet she had none of that craziness one expected on a hag.
Quite nice really, and he knew already she could stand some pain well. Time for a little amusement then.
Hurrikan II, another Universe
Björn the Fell Handed watched the entrance into the main fortification together with two angry Siege Dreadnaughts. The entrance had been covered by several heavy weapons from smaller bunkers close by, the 3rd ancient had paid with what was left of his life to clear them.
Now only a lascannon and two Heavy Bolters covered the entrance any more-and none could bear on them right now. Waiting would not do any good and neither when he had a meat body nor now was Björn given to such things.
"I take left, Urs you take right, Hemnir-take the guardhouse." The Dreadnaught stepped into the breach and grabbed the barrel of the Lascannon with his Lightning Claw. The claw sliced cleanly though the weapon while his autocannon banged enough against one of the Heavy Bolters that it could not bear.
A few seconds of smoke and explosion-filled violence later it was over. This was the entrance into what this operation was about and Björn still had no idea what this could be.
He provided overwatch for the Terminators and the Techmarine that rushed forward to the massive doors, spend little attention watching them through a rear camera when they placed their charges and stepped aside when they were blown.
The doors were forced aside and left a dark ominous opening into the fastness beyond-an edifice that was specifically build to swallow units like the one assembled at the entrance and chew them to bloody bits.
He watched one of the Techmarines servitors trundle forward on its treads-he was ripped apart by projectiles before the remains partially vaporized from laser fire. It had done its job by that time-its auspex feeds showed where the enemy was. The Dreadnaughts checked these feeds and exchanged the Data, shared it with the Terminators-and howled. Their bodies might be smashed beyond recognition, their skin unfeeling armor plate and their hands tools of war-but the core of the war machines still belonged to a Space Marine Chapter who lived for this.
Stepping right into the fire dished out by the defenders they trusted their armor to take the punishment and attacked for all they were worth. Björn kept a steady stream of shells on the muzzle of a multimelta which could easily cook him in his shell. The dragon-shaped muzzle took two hits before it could release the shot and when its power cells released it destroyed itself and a part of its emplacement. Björn was no longer paying attention to this spectacle, he was already washing a firing slit with his flamer while playing "catch the Barrel" with his claw.
There was a sally through a side entrance-there always was a sally once the heavy weapons were out. The attack by the Chaos Space Marines on the Dreadnaughts might have seem funny, like small children attacking adults, but children rarely carry melta charges.
The flamers on the three surviving ancients cooked most of the attackers in their suits and Björn`s Lightning Claw got another one, but one of the Chaos Marines managed to get into the range of a Sieges Dreadnaught`s legs and attached the charge there. The damaged leg toppled the War Machine on its back and the Marine wanted to set another charge against the Dreadnaughts sarcophagus when he was caught by the drill arm. Pressed against the ground the Chaos Marine was unable to wiggle away when the drill head first went through the carapace armor and then plunged into the soft contents below.
"Having fun folks?"
"As much as we can stand Patriarch."
"Then take a breather-from here we have to take it anyway."
Loren Grimmar stood together with a Techmarine and looked at an Auspex screen. "There is a bleeding warren from here on-and some of the lines are so fuzzy we are not sure if they are not fake. And look here and here: more emplacements than you can shake a stick at. I am happy you got your way Primarch."
"Don't praise a day before the evening Loren, but I hope it works."
Both men watched a Techmarine take some material of a pair of Terminators and arrange a cross on the wall in front of him.
Warsmith Spep`tukan checked on his troops again. The part on the Landing Zone could definitively have gone better but for an assault by no less than 4 Dreadnaughts. At least one of them was out but he had counted on the enemy taking much higher losses out there. But now it was time for the real fight to begin. His troops knew the layout of the Fortress like the back of their hands, the followers of the corpse god did not. He had prepared emplacements covering the main passageways, traps for the unready and not too few Obliterators. These Cyborgs could form appropriate weapons out of their very flesh and adept to any tactics the enemy might try. Now they just needed to wait till..
"Krumpf" uh? "Krumpf" what the fu…"KRUMPF"
"Warsmith, the enemy is blasting his way through the walls, they are evading our defenses."
"I see that fool. Redeploy the Marines in the emplacements and send the Obliterators to..wherever they are going."
The Warsmith was not yet engaged in combat but already felt that it went badly. The screams and howls in his headset indicated that the enemy was among his troops already and was fighting in close combat. And there were few Enemies better in close combat than the Space Wolves.
If he just knew what the enemy wanted it would be better-currently he could not see any rhyme nor reason. The Wolves were not going for the Generators, the CIC or any other neuralgic point he could see, instead they just went deeper and deeper into his fastness, killing all the while.
He had another look at the enemy`s deployments-that was strange, why had the followers of the carrion god gone there? This was just some vaults closed down since about forever.
Several hundred meters from the Warsmith Leman Rus had a fine old time. He had good Warriors at his side, fine Marines if there ever were, he had a willing foe and the confines of the Fortress allowed for all the melee one could wish for. That his Marines were Terminators and specialized in close combat and his enemies using standard Power Armor, being specialized in Siege warfare and caught out of position did not distract from the joy at all.
The idea to ignore the passageways of the fortress and blasting their own was a brilliant one and he really had to thank the German Sergeant that still resided in his head for it. This tactic had leveled the field that otherwise would have been tilted far in favor of the defenders.
Speaking of which-Jens Johannsen was making himself known again, and as was his wont by nagging. "When will you overgrown pup grow a brain, become an adult leader and concentrate on the mission? The Wolves need another fighter as much as a third leg-they need you to concentrate on the goals and coordination stupid."
If the Wolf Lord would not have had his share of the killing any way he might have ignored this-but both as Jens had earned the attention and as he was probably right-spoilsport but right-Lehman Rus slowed down.
"Loren, take it from here. I look after the cogboys, they should have gotten things going by now. Björn, Nial-make sure that we have a way out when they are done…"
Taking his entourage of Terminators the Patriarch made his way down the corridors and passages that led to the deeper layers of the Fortress he contacted each of his commands in turn to get an idea about the overall situation.
So far things were good-the enemy was out of position and not fighting according to his own plan-in short he had the initiative. The Chaos Space Marines were not in flight or did panic, but there was no general offensive or other danger to the mission he could see. Distributing some of his reserves here, making sure that his boys did not overextend there he arrived at the vault that lay at one of the lowest levels of the Fortress.
Here two rings of Marines made sure that two Techmarines, several specialized Servitors and a couple of Adepts the Mechanicum had loaned could go about their business undisturbed. They had removed a pile of debris and were currently opening a last hatch made from Adamatium that did offer considerable resistance.
"Techmarine Hangulf, how much longer?"
"Emperor willing another 5 Minutes Patriarch. They build these things well back then."
"Make it so."
Leman felt more than he saw the change in the air and the immense pressure on reality that barely preceded the teleport assault. "Stand ready" brought his entourage about so when several Obliterators and assorted Possessed dropped out of the Warp they did not achieve the surprise they had hoped for.
Lehmann`s Terminator Bodyguard tried their level best to put themselves between their Patriarch and the enemy but they never had any chance. Rus threw himself headlong into combat, using his Bolter as a normal Marine might use a pistol. Mutated heads were blown off, limbs dropped to the ground and almost-flesh colored the survivors. All of which did not stop Lehmann Rus from closing with his foes and cutting about with his Frostblade. A chain tipped with the teeth of the Kraken cut through armor, flash and bone with equal ease and stomach turning results. The best the Terminators could do was to make sure their leader had no enemy in his back.
Lehman Rus was elated-this was what he was born for, this was what he desired and what he excelled in. He was deep into combat but still found the time to marvel. "So this is what the fussy German was about-concentrating on the mission and all that. Of course he is right-need to protect the prize, not battle in some diversion. How did he know the assault were to happen-maybe he would have done the same thing?"
If Jens Johannsen still had a head he would have banged it against a wall-if he had a wall that is.
Warsmith Spep`tukan was a deeply frustrated Warsmith. After assaulting his fastness like there was no tomorrow the enemy was now in retreat. While that in itself would have been a good thing it was more than obvious that the enemy was not beaten in any way or form. Whatever the Space Mongrels had come to do they had probably done it and were now leaving.
Nobody would do this to him and live to tell the tale. Unfortunately they had started the retreat on their own time so it had taken the Iron warriors a while to catch on to the change. For some time now Thunderhawks were taking of and shuttled the carrion worshippers back into orbit while escorted by flocks of fighters.
So that none of his Iron Warriors could bring heavy weapons to the tarmac and shoot down at least some of the fleeing whelps they had left a guard that so far had managed to keep that from happening. Comprised both of Terminators and three Dreadnaughts this last stand had so far frustrated all attempts to interfere with the evac.
And yet this was his fortress and so his warriors had taken ways to the surface that the Wolves had not covered yet. Obliterators laid down covering fire while he took a combat group of Marines for an assault that was to break these obstinate Marines in time.
Running in front of his warriors the chant "Iron within, Iron without" was without inflection, without emphasis-and usually all the more frightening because of that. Their enemy could care less and fought back as well as he could. Yet a lot of his fire was intercepted by the Chaos Marines heavy Power Armor and even when that was penetrated the many bionics sported by the Iron warriors gave them an unnatural resistance. This would be over soon.
The Dreadnaught in the van was a sorry sight. The autocannon seemed to be out of ammo-but its slightly bend barrel would not pass it anyway. The other arm and the shoulder pauldrons had deep dents and at least two hits had penetrated. Whatever livery the ancient had sported was now in tatters and covered by blood and soot.
Still it roared challenges to everybody and laid about with his Lightning Claw. Spep`tukan would relish taking it down. Angling behind some of his Warriors he managed to close with the Dreadnaught enough to trigger his Multimelta, a weapon that had never failed him. The "whoosh" of the weapon managed to overcome the din of the battlefield momentarily and a mighty "clang" confirmed the hit and the drop of something heavy.
When the air was clear enough to see the Warsmith looked the ancients severed arm-only his arm. Before he could reconcile this sight something huge and heavy collided with him and even his heavy armor was lifted up by a Claw. The fizzling sparks along its metal showed that the energy field that helped with the armor piercing was out. Nevertheless the claw was closed with all the frightening power of a Dreadnaught behind it, pinning his arms against his chest and keeping him from attacking. Pushing the Warsmith between himself and the Iron Warriors the war machine protected itself from most shots that went his way-and punished the Chaos leader at the same time.
The defenders had been pushed back into a very small circle by now, shooting in all directions, many of them probably at their last rounds. It was then that Spep`tukan heard a grumbling "I seriously hate this" while had was unceremoniously dropped on the ground. Even his tainted blood`s coagulations could not keep him from bleeding from his many wounds, all to his back while a blue fire engulfed the survivors of the last stand-and then they were no longer there, taken by a last sounds Spep`tukan made in this life were screams of frustration.
Up in orbit around the contested world both electronic messages as well as ever urgent messengers tried to acquire the Venerated Arc Magos attention to various bits and pieces of the evacuation from the stricken worlds surface. The Titans were already of and more and more of the Skitarii were flown to the waiting transports, protected by "firebreaks" cut by Lance strikes from orbit.
Hel Karbor was resting on what used to be his knees and replayed the same report again and again. It was not about the battle below him, it was about more important matters. The first report about the STC in the old "Raganarök" was in.
It had two very distinct functions: It was able to fab ammunition, armor and spare parts for the Space Marines, which in itself was already a very good thing. Too many of the Marine chapters had to patch their equipment again and again when they should have used new equipment long ago.
But the really really important part was that the STC provided plans and blueprints for nearly any piece of equipment you could name and changed them according to manufacturing capabilities and available raw materials.
Fragments of such STC provided tantalizing glimpses into the technological marvels produced during the Dark Age of Technology. This was all the Mechanicum had found during all the millennia –but this one did not offer fragments. So far not a single gap or malfunction had cropped up-this STC was complete.
The Magos took nearly another hour to come out of the rapture, just in time to give the necessary orders for the final bombardment. It took some time to get the last transports out and the ships to sufficient distance, yet there was all the time the world.
Now that the prize was on board of the "Holmgang" the weapons of the allied fleet could be turned to the surface of this world without restraint. Lances cut deep craters where installations were before, torpedoes replaced mountains with lava-filled lakes.
Nearly anything of strategic importance was hit, observed, hit again and deleted from the target list.
When the fleet went into the warp days later the world had ceased to have any strategic value for Chaos, yet it had not been totally depopulated.
This was to appease the strange but powerful creatures rarely spoken about, yet those few in the know called them "moderatii".
Warhammer Store, Europazentrum, Berlin, next evening
"So without much further ado folks, lets open the first tournament of the new "Warhammer Fantasy Battles Apokalyse"
The applause and catcalls that greeted Lars Meier`s announcements showed that the attendants to the tournament were in good spirits. He put the microphone down and made his round through the tables. The new realities had forced the German remnant of Games Workshop to make lots and lots of changes to include new units, change older ones to more accurate values and above all changes necessary for common safety.
Lars was quite happy to see that all Gamers had changed the Chaos symbols to a 6-pinted star and that none of the named demons had any of the proscribed names. Everybody remembered what had happened to the store in Hamburg-the local SEK had their hands full till the Nurglings had been killed.
He stopped at one table that had the ever-popular "Reiksbund vs. Chaos" setting. The Chaos side had quite a lot of Bloodletters and some Juggernauts and more than a few mages from the look of it. His opponent was not completely done with his list it seemed.
Presently he removed a company of Reiksguard footmen with their K98 and put a figure showing the upper half of a tanker on a magnetized base on the turret of the Leo2A8 tank. A small flag went into the hole provided for it.
Sir Ulrich Stoiber and the "Wolfpack" then, smart choice vs. demons-a reroll for any invuln save, better Tank Shock vs. infantry, a steal at 50 points if you asked Lars.
Refugee shelter, Passau, same time
"Of course that Paper will easy dissolve yer stupid git, that is the paper for wiping the arse. The paper for wiping stains in the Kitchen is the bigger one with the dents on it. See-"Vildeda" is on it. Or better take a cloth towel. But for Pete`s sake do not use that in the toilet. Small paper-toilet. Big Paper, Kitchen. Get it?"
"Qui Andy, Excusez-moi"
"No problem Marie, just think about it next time. And how is that in German."
"Merd-eh, Ja Andy, tsculdige"
„Well , nearly so. But for a much better recap-the kitchen looks much better this time. Remember, here are no hounds to eat of the floor and the local farmers get the night soil from the point where it is flushed in the loo. There is no need to keep it, ok?"
"Oui, eh ja Andy"
"Thanks. Just keep it up, you are doing very well. How was your visit to the job agency?"
"Marvellous-they kept me just there. They said most of their old cleaners did not make the Weltensprung, I earn 8,50 Euros an hour now."
"Wow, very good. If you keep it up you can leave this soon and have your own apartment."
"You mean like you and your wife?"
"Yes, mostly"
"Oh wow. Are you really sure that is allowed?"
"As long as you can pay nobody can forbid it. Remember, ever since your status was approved nobody can tell you where to go, what work you do or whom to marry-your own decisions now. Really, now come on stop crying."
Andy Thorpe was not sure whether this part of the job was the worst or the nicest. Living in Germany was QUITE different from the life of a serf in Bretonia, and somebody had to explain the differences. He had been one of the volunteers and it really tested his patience-and then there were moments like the one he just had and then it was just worth the while.
Near Neustadt, Naggaroth, next afternoon
Using a bullwhip is difficult, exhausting and up to a point dangerous. The end of the very long whip tends to wrap around the body parts it is used on and the tip hit with about 3 times the speed of the whip itself then, hitting these points especially hard. The warping around the body part makes hitting the intended spot difficult and there is a minimum speed for this kind of whip which means that a "soft stroke" is not possible.
Areta Bane had less practice with the Bullwhip than some other Druchii she could name, which meant she was quite competent but not an artist with it but she could care less that she could only hit hard. As long as no permanent injury or disfigurement resulted that was fine. Her target was a near-naked true Elf of ropey musculature bound to a handy tree who, in her opinion, deserved everything she dished out and then some.
Crack "So let us summarize again what are your failures lael"-Crack"I hope I have your undivided attention"Crack
"Yes Platoon Leader"
Crack "So first off it is not "just a slave belonging to a human", it is a trained weapons mechanic belonging directly to Chief Engineer Thorsten Breitkop-a human with a permit from Malekith himself Crack Do you think Malekith picks unworthy humans for such permits?" Crack
"No Platoon Leader, certainly not"
"That is fine, splendid even. And what does a trained weapons mechanic do, even if he is a human slave?"Crack
"Undertake the maintenance procedures and repairs that we cannot Platoon Leader"
Crack "Very good lael. And as these weapons are what makes us a factor on the Battlefield a trained weapons mechanic is a very important asset. Far more important than a piece of shit that has yet to learn his place in this platoon. Don`t you agree, piece of shit?"
Crack
Crack
"Uh-I agree platoon leader"
Crack "I thought we would see eye to eye lael. Just needed to apply proper motivation. Crack
"And now we need to talk about your hearing problem All of this has been explained to you several times by members of the Platoon AND me, is that right lael?"
Crack
"Yes Platoon leader"
"So when you still insist on whipping a slave because he does not immediately crawl on his belly while his High Lord Piece of Shit appears while he is performing an important function for the Platoon-a function you are utterly incapable of-then it has to be down to a hearing problem, is that not so? CrackNobody would be so stupid to do so if he had understood me correctly, wouldn`t he Crack
"Yes Platoon Leader"
"Fine lael, then get that hearing problem addressed before I get really angry and you find me not in such a forgiving mood as I am presently in" CrackCrack
"Yes Platoon Leader"
Crack"And now you should pray to any god you know that I find Thorsten Breitkop in a forgiving mood when I apologize on your behalf. Because if I have to put it out to him because of your hearing problem I have an oaken truncheon I will introduce you to. CrackCrack
Actually Areta was pretty sure she did not have "to put it out" for the German, even if showing a little more cleavage than usual would certainly help. The German`s tastes ran into different directions and surprisingly did not try to trade favors that way. Yet the slaves that had heard (and secretly watched) the whipping would bring the tale to the Chief Engineer before she went to him for formal apologies and that would assure him that his position was not under attack.
The latter did not bear thinking about-she had heard that some idiots in the shipyard had tried that game whereupon Breitkop had simply filed a complaint with Malekith`s envoy. The skins of the unfortunates hung from the walls several days later.
"Get yourself seen to then-and you better treat the medics right, even if they are slaves as well-these are trained by Dr. Corzilius and he takes care of them as well"
"Yes Platoon Leader"
"So the lessons for today are: Trained slaves are valuable. crack we do not keep them from doing their jobs crack And most important we listen to our beloved Platoon Leader crack
Do we have agreement here lael?"
"Yes, Platoon Leader Areta"
"Be about it then. We will have an additional training session in an hour"
Nearly no running blood on that idiots back-she must be in a good mood today.
Police headquarters, Wiesbaden, same time
While the curtains went down to allow a better view of what the beamer was projecting on the screen Ibrahim Dürr took a view of Gregor Koch. The electronics expert had actually bothered to don semi-decent clothing and both a shave and a current haircut.
Ibrahim would wager that this was due to Martha, the new secretary the team had been assigned. She was sitting together with Silvia Meins and was about to take the minutes.
"Well, now that everything works let's get on with it. We have identified a group connected with Claus Tolles who contacted each other in the Telekom newsgroup "All about Jasla". We know by now that a great lot of these people are missing-without any trace in fact.
And yet so far all the communication between these members in the group was innocuous-at least from the point of any criminal intent. We have been searching for other communications between them, but apart from some phone calls and at least two real-world meetings we have found nothing incriminating.
That was, until the day before yesterday. When I had another look at the pictures exchanged between members we found that they managed to hide text messages and simple files inside the pictures by a method called steganography. This means that in the pictures some of the bits-usually the weakest-are replaced by bits carrying the message. As long as does not overdo on file size this is invisible.
The messages were also encrypted, but not to a very high level-the group obviously relied on the hidden nature of the messages. As some members were a little careless with the keys and we know now what to look for I have started to decode these messages. I have not gotten all of them done yet, in fact not even 10%, but I have concentrated on the messages by Claus Tolles, and they paint an ugly picture indeed.
This slide shows the most interesting contents.
Ibrahim scanned the lines. While he certainly needed context to evaluate things correctly it was obvious that Gregor was, if at all, deadpanning.
"Enough weapons for everybody-including heavy weapons…."
"Acquired another Lathe for…."
"Look for suitable employer…."
"Are you sure we can use the local slaves…"
Ibrahim had to clear his throat before he could comment. "Very good job Gregor-thanks loads. Unfortunately it seems that we discovered something much bigger than just a bleeding prison break-this means lots of work. For now I want to keep things in here before we cry wolf-please keep things discrete for now. So what do we do now: Gregor, you keep up the good work and decode as many messages as possible. Sandra and I will take whatever messages you get us and try to verify. This Lasbek thing mentioned there might be one thing, that ship another.
When we can be sure this is not just lots of talk I will contact our esteemed superiors-not before. Scan me?"
"Yes"
"Fine then, off we go then."
Ibrahim was sitting on his desk two night later and read a lengthy report of a major fire in Lasbek that had taken an old farm, looking for clues that there might have been more than dust and wrecked machinery inside the barn when his phone rang.
"Hello Ibrahim old boy, this is Heiner Brand. How are you these days"
"Ah Heiner I am fine, what is up-tired of looney watching and looking for a real job?"
"Not really no. But there are some people including me who urgently need to speak with you."
"About what?"
"Oh, come on Ibrahim-on a service phone, really now. Why can`t we have a nice dinner and talk about things. Things like steganography for example."
