Bwari, Norther Nigeria 3. September 2016

The pressure in the cuff dropped with each second and the "Bob-bob" sound inside the stethoscope persisted till it suddenly cut off. The woman that listened to the sound was not satisfied and so pumped the cuff up again and redid the measurement.
Shaking her head she pulled the ear pieces out before looking at the doctor in front of her.
"So what did you measure apprentice nurse?"
"180 to 110 Dr. Musa, but I do not understand. Blood pressure is supposedly much lower than that."
"Very good Christine. The measurement is correct; it is just that this patient has a naturally high blood pressure, which is why he needs medication."

An apprenticeship for Nurse was a highly-sought-after position in Nigeria as it gave comparatively good money and status, even for a unmarried woman. Somebody who had been dropped out of school would not have any chance for such a position-were she not promoted by not one but two doctors.
Christine Goodfellow had a life in front of her, a life where she had a chance to earn her own money and make her own decisions. Life was good.

Compigne, France, 11 October 2016

Yvette`s feet hurt-hurt a lot indeed, which was hardly surprising as she had just finished a 10-hour shift at Starbucks filling coffee`s and smiling at customers. She had to tell herself that this was just for a couple more months as the combination of boredom and stress was a killer.
Dropping her shoes off and getting herself in front of the TV with a Microwave dinner was a sad routine that she hoped to leave behind soon. She had been resolved not to let her studies drop when she was expelled from the university, but the sheer grind of her job had made her renege on that. She was just too tired to crack a book at present and longed for low-brow entertainment that she was sure would directly kill brain cells.

Zapping through the cannels she found herself in the second half of "Glimpses from Beyond", the TV Show that aired the pictures that the Marienburg mages evoked from lost Germany. At first thought to be a one-off that could happen every dozen years or so it had turned into a semi-regular occurrence. The main feature today was a rocket launch that depicted a kind of launcher that looked a lot like the old Ariane 4 if the experts were to be believed.
There were also the haunting pictures from an empty IKEA store that seemed to be close to Hamburg. A part of it seemed to be used for some sort of production but the vast store was empty, well on the way of decay and looked like the end of the world. As IKEA had bought practically everything they sold outside Germany that was to be expected, the Höfer store nearby seemed to do a bit better.

There was a post-view talk show. The first part was about the rocket launcher and there was a lot of speculation why the Germans were spending so much money on something that seemed a luxury. An expert from Arianespace listed the many uses for satellites, including communication, recon and navigation and assured the audience that these reasons alone would make it necessary for the Germans to have a space program. The idea that something of an elder race would be in orbit of their new world was very unlikely.
The next interview was with Magister VanderSchanz who was asked why the shows were getting more regular these days.

"Actually the level of magic seems on the rise on Earth. We can perform spells again that would have been impossible three years ago and others we could barely bring about are nearly easy. Why this is so is hotly debated within the few practitioners of the art that are in Marienburg."
"So what theories are about?"
"I would not call them theories yet as we have no shred of evidence either way, so I`d call them hypothesis. There are those who state that the Wasteland itself is making itself known in this world. Others think that since we have started to practice magic the right way we unlock this world`s potential. Personally me I think that the Warpstone that must be under the Wasteland is somehow released into the air and activated somehow, but I have no idea how this could come about."
"Sorry, this "Warpstone"-what would that be?"
"Most say Warpstone is condensed magic, the raw stuff of Chaos, unhealthy and unclean. It has been distributed all over our old World from the Chaos Gates and from Meteors. It is used for the foulest of magics.."
"Can you show us such a piece? Do you have a sample?"
"Of course not, who would want to keep such a bad thing close to himself but a madman?"
"So why do you believe there is such a thing. Nobody but you ever saw such a material-and it should have been detected by now, our chemists are very thorough and competent."

"I think the increase in magic is because of Warpstone because it feels that way. In the old world we used the Winds of Magic, the energy released by death or the Mages that lent towards Chaos the raw energies of the Warp.
The added energy that allows us what we do today feels mostly like the Warp in the raw-and that makes me think it must be Warpstone. If you burn this stuff very well it will disappear and release its magic to be used for a short time. This is neither efficient nor healthy, but it works."
"But you have no proof for what you say-you have no Warpstone. Maybe one of the viewers has seen one of you describe it."
"It looks like green-black stone but is much lighter than stone. Very often it glows by itself in a green light but gives off no heat."
"Many would say that you mostly deal with illusions Master VanderSchanz-how do we know you are not putting up a nice show."
The normally florid face of the mage went a deeper shade of red while he tried to stifle his rage. A glass of water died the talking for him, the glass full of water that levitated off the table and upended itself over the interviewers head.
"Does this feel like an illusion to you Monsieur?"

By that time Yvette was already on the phone and tried to call Marie. This worked on the third try only as her friend had tried to reach her at exactly the same time.
The very same evening a very extensive search in Google did reveal that the Magister did not have an E-Mail account and they had to send their message via snail mail.

Dallas, 15. October 2016

The Ford F150 was a huge and robust truck, capable of towing anything smaller than a house and traversing terrain that would stump many a so-called SUV. It also had fuel consumption slightly lower than an oceangoing container vessel and climbing inside asked for more than a little effort.
The driver liked the truck just like it was, even when he was just struck in the usual rush-hour traffic and movement was below walking speed, at least for him.
The call via the mobile was a welcome distraction and he pushed the "receive" button of his car immediately when he saw the caller`s ID.

"Hi Chad, how is it hanging?"
"Ok I guess, how about you Chris?"
"Fine, just struck in the damn traffic."
"Don`t I know it. Well, reason I call you is what are you going to do the long weekend at Veterans day?"
"Good that you ask. The Missus and her Children want to go off, I am game. Do you have anything particular in mind."
"Yes indeed. Have you read about what they did to Wisconsin?"
"You mean the battleship-yes."
"They are going to put up quite a show on Veterans day-and I know somebody who can take us to the bridge. And I think we can have a lot of fun afterwards."
"Sounds great, really. I still know a couple of nice watering holes down there. There is just a hitch buddy."
"What`s up?"
"I promised Eddie Ray that we go to the range that weekend. Can we take him with us and ditch him after the show at a hotel."
"He is out of the hospital by now."
"Yes, he said they put the hip together right this time and he is out of rehab. Jezz, that guy was lucky to survive back then."
"Well, he might think himself luckier if that truck would not have pushed him off the road back in `13."
"Yup, that`s right. Well, I always promised him a trip to the shooting range if he got better. But this could be even better, what do you think?"
"Promise me we put him in the Hotel before the wet part starts and we have a deal."
"Let`s do this then."
Five minutes later a gap in the traffic appeared and allowed Chris Kyle to make the next exit.

BB-64 Wisconsin, Norfolk

The Hour of the Wolf is the hour between night and dawn. It is the hour when most people die, when sleep is deepest, when nightmares are most real. It is the hour when the sleepless are haunted by their deepest fear, when ghosts and demons are most powerful.
The ship that was called Wisconsin by the humans now and that would be called Nightmare, the ship that Linderex called his body for now was dark and empty. Creaks and groans could be heard when the battlewagon moved in the swell, but these were not the only sounds inside it. Slithering cables, the skittering feet of half-mechanical insects, the gurgling movement of fluids through pipes filled the dark passageways and cold rooms.

The demigod was getting ready for battle. It reminded him of those days when he was still mortal, when retainers would clad him in armor and squires handle him sharpened steel. Others had been fearful then, anticipating injury, defeat and disgrace. Even then he had been different, looking forward to mayhem and slaughter. The battlefield was the ultimate judge where his measure would be taken-then just as tomorrow.
He would give glorious battle, slaughter the unworthy and smash all those in his way. He knew that his current body would give sooner or later like his first one on that unnamed battlefield so long ago. And just like his combat had appealed to Khorne enough to put him on his path to demonhood in his minute of dying the destruction he would mete out would leave no doubt in Tzeentch that he was the one worthy of ascension.
No matter what would happen tomorrow, blood would flow and heads would be taken.
Blood for Linderex, Skulls for his future throne.

White House Washington, same time

Demons are the strongest at the hour of the wolf, humans are not. Now that nobody was bothering him for one more decision and one more signature, no camera waited for him to strike a pose and he was alone with himself the last eight years came crashing down on Barack Hussein Obama.
He had started with so much hope and such great plans at a time when the world went mad. First the financial crisis that he had inherited from his predecessor. That one had mostly passed when a whole country went missing, confidence in nearly everything dropped and the economy headed for the crapper another time. He had been reelected by a slim margin indeed, the voters had clung to what they knew in times of uncertainty.

The last years had been a wild ride. Russia had tried to reaffirm her primacy in Eastern Europe just to be brought low by falling oil prices and a disappearing market for gas. China`s first year with growth below 5% and her efforts to both grab those market shares left by Germany and push even more aggressively into the Pacific.The last months had calmed things when a common enemy had to be fought and he could leave the country to his successor where he would at least have a breather before the next crisis hit.
Yet, given the hour this was not in the front of his mind. It was the many expectations his voters had had for him and the many disappointments that filled his mind. The hopes he could not fulfill, the programs that had begun with so much promise and that had brought strife. The decent into obscurity, the lukewarm place he would take in history books, all weighted much more than what he had achieved. To cap it all off he had to congratulate another Bush yesterday and he would have to watch from sidelines what this clan would do to his country this time.

Turning and tossing would not bring any relief, in the end President Obama got up for an early shower and a start into one of the last days of his office.

BB-64 Wisconsin, early morning

Coenraad van der Schroeff walked the bridge towards his old ship. The morning was gray, his joints ached with the cold humidity and age and he would spend the next three days with a lot of unpaid work. None of this really registered in his mind, he was lost in thought with the many memories that the old ship invoked. She might be an anachronism from a bygone age, as useful as a heavy club in a gunfight even when he was commanding her and had no place in this not-so-bright new world.
And yet she radiated a power and solidity that spoke deeply to him and he longed for tomorrow when he would take command of her again after a fashion. Behind him hundreds of people got into line and made their way into the ship.

The battleship association was taking possession of "their" ship as a crew which the long work and drills of the last months had made them. Young and old, male and female, ex-sailor or landlubber, they all wanted to show the crowd a functioning battleship tomorrow.
Saluting the flag the former Captain made his way to his quarters and unpacked his kitbag. If they were to give a dog-and-pony show to the masses they were going to do it right. His old uniform still fit and the years seemed to drop off him when he made for his office. Renzel Weston was there and his daughter-in-law who had a good head for organization.

"So, XO, how are things?"
"We will call roll in an hour Sir, but from the look of things everybody is coming. From a first check we do not need to make any changesfrom the "Plan of the Day" we sent out last week. If the roll call has any surprises I will change some positions,but I do believe things are set.
We will begin with roll call and your speech 10:00, assembly after that and the departments will have their first checks and drills.
Chow will be served all day.
We will have the big drill 15:00 and the dinner after that. I suggest we limit ourselves to 3 bottles per person-that way nobody will cheat and we will be fine tomorrow.
The details are here Sir."
"Looks good to me XO, make it so."

A little more than half an hour later saw him facing his crew for two days who stood in orderly blocks on the ship`s fantail. All clad in period-correct naval uniforms they looked like a real crew if one did not note too many details. A mixed bunch if there ever was one and not one any captain would ever want to set sail with. Never at sea with each other, many too old, overweight or otherwise unfit they were still his.

"Good morning Ladies and Gentleman. I am proud to be here on this day and proud that you have asked me to be your Captain for these days. That you have all volunteered for this is an honor to the Wisconsin and all who ever her."
"Neither the ship nor we are still called to protect this country, but we can still do a service and show those who do not know her what this ship has done to keep us all free and safe. May ourpresentation inspire others to do their part. And if we can do this, if we can inspire even one wide eyed boy or girl to join tomorrow we have done our jobs."
"You have all worked hard the last months to make tomorrow happen, now let us dig in for the last hours and not waste the preparation."
"Three cheers for the Old Lady"

And they cheered, enthusiastically and loudly. The sound carried far over the pier where the only ones to note were a flock of seagulls taking flight.

Fort Story, Little Creek Expeditionary base, same time

Sergeant First Class Donald Ryder was doing something stupid and costly. His only excuse was that he was doing it because he was ordered to do so, and against his protests.
Currently he was painting the rubber coating the drive wheel on his tank black. Use and sunlight had colored them a dusty charcoal gray and that had displease the eye of Captain Unruh who wanted to shine on tomorrows presentation. That this would wear off in the shortest of time while it would actually damage the material did not disturb the officer, that "his" unit would look good did. Of course the captain had this "brilliant" idea in the nick of time, so the NCO had the choice of cancelling some R&R for his men or do it by himself.
That Ryder`s crew was chosen for a show tomorrow instead of having the customary 96-hours R&R was probably coloring the sergeant`s view further-not that anybody asked him. Well even if it was nonsense and an expensive nonsense at that he would give it his best efforts.

BB-64 Wisconsin, later that day

There were no pyro charges fired today, they were expensive and would foul the paint that had been lovingly applied the last weeks. Still the sight of three turrets that turned as one, of nine barrels that rose up to the same angle and the 5-in turrets that matched them like gears in a well-made clock inspired confidence in the captain`s mind. This would go well tomorrow, he was sure of it.
He toured all the messes in the ship-none of them was big enough to contain all the volunteers at the same time. Food was served from the galleys with disregard to any such notions as "low-cholesterol", "low sugar" or any other lows. It was rich on all these things and more, and the mood in all compartments was all the better for it.

He finally got his own meal and sat down with the others.
"Looking good Ranzy, it really does. If anybody would have told me that 6 months ago I would have called him a liar and here we are. Nearly a full crew worth of volunteers and everybody is busting his ass together. Thanks for the invitation Ranzy, I would never have imagined it would lead to such things."
"Ah, the Old Lady inspires us all."
"Oh yes, she does."

Deeper inside the ship the huge boilers started to fill with water that it had distilled from the sea during the last months. Linderex opened up reserves of power he had stored within him during his stay on earth and energies normally found only in the warp acted on the water molecules. They started to move faster and faster within the confinement of their tubes, bouncing off each other and the walls. Currently they were still in a liquid state, but only the pressure held them that way. Soon they would be excited so much they could only exist as steam-and then they would stand ready to power the great battleship.

Hours later Wisconsin`s crew went to their bunks, having a long sleep. That nearly everybody on board would sleep at the same time was unusual, but with power provided from landside and guards not really needed-even if a few were posted-it was possible.
It was not only possible-for Linderex'splans it was essential.

The last meal the volunteers had consumed contained the demigod`s last gift for them. The proteins and sugars they had eaten managed to make their way through the digestive tract intact before they went past the blood-brain barrier and joined the others that had been there for months. During the night these molecules pushed others aside and assumed their place. They served as molds and others formed in their likeness.
These molecules were those who stored the volunteer's memories. The newcomers replaced, modified and changed what the crew had seen heard and learned during the last decades and replaced them with a fiction of Linderex'sdesign.

Any memories a volunteer might have of the Fall of the Berlin Wall were replaced with the picture of tanks running over the screaming protestors. Recollections of perestroika and glasnost were replaced by the struggles and the famine. Detente and the peace dividend were wiped out, the great 90`s arms race took its place.
A cold war that nearly turned hot when SaddamHussein invaded Kuwait, and the Soviet Union that backed him threatened with war before he withdrew. The endless patrols in the North Atlantic, containing an ever-growing Red Fleet, all that replaced what had been real.

Other memories were changed as well. Tomorrow the volunteers would wake up in the same world-but everything they saw would be filtered by their new memories.
Ship silhouettes they all knew by heart changed names and affliction, places they had visited got new names and changed to "friend" to "foe" in their mind.

Nauticus pier, 11.11.2016, early morning

This was a gray day-the sky was clad in a featureless gray overcast, the sea reflected it in a darker shade of it and the few people about at Nauticus were looking pale from lack of sleep.

Chris Kyle, Chad Littlefield and Eddie Rays made their way down the pier towards a very impressive mass of gray that contrasted itself darkly against the sky.
The former sniper had a beer or two the night before, so he was a bit less enthusiastic about the enterprise this morning.
Chad and Eddie were more energetic.

"There she is-and isn`t she worth getting up that early?"
"If they put on the show you promised it will be."
"They will-they put up a video of the trials on YouTube and believe me, it was quite a show."
"Let`s see."
The three men got a lot closer to the ship before the chat resumed.
"They don`t build them like this anymore."
"Nope. Back then they carried the fangs out, now you have to look for any weapons beside the popguns."
"And they were built to take a licking back then. A Harpoon or Tomahawk would at most blow off the electronics or some secondaries, and even a torp or two would not sink them."
" Yeah, and within her range she could sink anything she chose to. Bad thing is that her range is quite short and keeping them up is simply not worth it any longer. But nice to see for sure."
They arrived at the bridge that connected pier and ship. Two men, dressed in uniforms that would have been up-to-date when the USSR went the way of Atlantis, guarded the entry.
Littlefield saluted them, even when he was pretty sure both were no longer serving.
"Good morning Gentleman. I am Chad Littlefield, this is Chris Kyle and Eddie Ray. We have an appointment with Renzy Weston."
"Good morning Sir. We will…we will, ah, just go ahead, you will find him on the bridge."

The three men made their way down the warren of passages, encountering only very fewpeople who were also clad in old-style uniforms.
"The guys at the pier seemed a little out of it, don`t you think Chris?"
"I`d say a hell of a party yesterday Eddie."
"Hope the guys handling the shells are in better shape."
"Me too. Now let`s check, we are –ok here, Passage B324-, two more and we are at the ladder, then up."
They had nearly reached the ladder when the klaxon started to wail.

BB-64 Wisconsin, "Leningrad", 11.11.2016

Coenraad van der Schroeff crumpled the printout in his hand. These bleeding idiots in the White House had damned him and his crew to death. He had told his superiors in no uncertain terms whet he thought of a "Good-Will-Visit" to "Show the Flag" in a country that was flouting all that was good and proper. A country that was about to use the unrest in West Germany and Yugoslavia as an excuse for furthering their own aims.
He stood still like a statue, looking at nothing while he gathered his thoughts. All around him the seeming chaos of a crew getting to their battle stations swirled, yet he had no part of it. He was very much aware that this was the most important announcement he would ever make-and very likely the last one too.
The captain waited till the "Ready" reports had all come in before pressing the button.

"All hands, hear this, hear this. As of 30 minutes ago Warsaw Pact troops have crossed the Inter-German border and pushed westwards. There are several battles ongoing at present and we have reports of at least three nuclear weapons being used.
As of this moment we are at war with the Soviet Union, the very state that has invited us here and that is now treacherously attacking our troops and our allies. I will not mince words here people, we all know that we will not survive this day. We are alone here and we have few defenses against air attack or submarines.

But we are also close to one of the greatest ports of the enemy and even from here I can see some of the most valuable ships their navy has. Maybe we will go down in flames, but by God we will not go alone.
Ladies and Gentleman, it has been an honor to serve with you. Wisconsin, forward to freedom"
The cheers rang through the ship, with a ragged edge to it, but cheers. Van der Schroeff could not fault them, nobody likes to hear that he is about to die. But they had heart-and they would rip the heart out of the Red Fleet before they were done.
Picking up the intercom he contacted the Gunnery officer in his tower.
"Lieutenant Gray, I can see a Kusnetzov Class carrier from here-I want to see it burn before anything else. Deploy your drone while you still can."
"Aye Aye Sir."

Fort Story, Little Creek Expeditionary base, same time

It was far too early for comfort, the sky was overcast, the mood bad as the tankcrews had to perform for a spectacle when they had anticipated a holiday-it was a day Sergeant Ryder was pretty sure he wanted back already.
He watched Captain Unruh confer at length with some brass while standing in the hatch of his Abrams MBT. He had driven similar tanks in Iraq and knew their capabilities like the back of his hand. Yet, if Murphy took a holiday today, he was about to participate in something that he had not tried before.

From where he stood he could see a series of barges that were anchored out at sea, all of them holding various targets. The army brass had gotten it into their heads that it would be cost-efficient to have a tank gunnery range at the base, but lacked the real estate to make it happen. Now if they were to use the sea they might skirt that little problem. Today was to show this off both to the army itself and some civilians who might or might not be able to get the town to accept this danger to navigation.
Which, in turn, meant that he had missed out on anticipated holidays, had to paint road wheels and load live ammo into his tank. It also meant that he could fail spectacularly in front of a lot of witnesses, oh joy.
He watched the Captain get back to the tanks when the horizon lit up.

BB-64 Wisconsin, same time

Chris Kyle had obeyed his training instinctively when the klaxon went off. When you are on a ship either your ass touches a bulkhead or you are in somebody'sway. The stampede of crewmembers that raced to "Battle Stations" was a sight to see. Old men who wheezed from running in a straight line for a few hundred meters, teenage girls who looked lost inside their too-big uniforms and young man who wheezed with the old as they were seriously overweight-they all ran here and there as if the alarm were the real thing.

Chris and Chad were about to comment on it when the announcement was piped through all of the ships compartments.
"That is some serious role-play these guys put up."
"Strange, they did not tell me anything about that."
The trio managed to gain the ladder before two men who wore marine uniforms reached their posts there and got out at the battle bridge.
The atmosphere there was intense, just like it was the real thing. The bridge crew wore helmets and the shutters in front of the windows were down, so the promised grand view was gone.
Littlefield was approaching Weston, whom he knew, when the ship was shaken down to its very keel and a concussion threatened to overwhelm even the bridges protection. Wisconsin`s main armament had spoken in anger for the first time in more than 20 years-inside an American harbor.

Chris shouted before he had much time to think.
"Are you folks totally crazy?"
An elderly, distinguished looking man bearing the insignia of Wisconsin`s captain turned towards the trio, as did lots of others.
"Who are these men and what are they doing here? XO, have them arrested, we have no time for this."

CVN-77 George H.W. Bush, Pier 14, Norfolk Naval Station Norfolk, same time

At 100.000 tons the carrier was one of the biggest warships ever. Built as the final ship of the Nimitz-class supercarriers she contained everything learned over the long production run that had built her nine sisters. When fully stocked with warplanes she was an impressive tool of American might and when she was at sea anything made by humans within a thousand mile radius existed at her sufferance. If she were at sea she could have sunken a score of battleships like Wisconsin without breaking a sweat.
Yet currently she was not at sea, most of her planes were not on board, none of those still in her hangar were ready to fly, a large part of her crew was on leave and she was defenseless against the death that was approaching fast.

Wisconsin was a little more than 10 kilometers from the carrier and both ships were immobile for the moment, there nearly no waves. The Mk160 Fire Control Computer had sniggered at the easy solution he had to give-he actually had done so as it was a part of Linderex, but the crew had been too caught up to hear it.
Nine guns had turned towards the correct bearing, lifting their barrels to the correct azimuth. Linderex intercepted the firing command and replaced it with one of his own a hundredth of a second later. This was the first of his kills, so he wanted to make them "himself"

The mighty guns killed their first victims before the shells had reached their targets when their pressure wave dropped several Nauticus workers unconscious from the pier into the cold sea. They would be but the first.
The armament given to Linderex amounted to the most deadly artillery arsenal ever to take to the seas. There had been bigger guns in the Japanese and British navies, but none of them had the rate-of-fire, precision or penetrationof the mighty 16-inch guns. Today that arsenal was commanded by a demigod that wanted to make name of himself.
The two forward turrets let loose with a salvo of six HE projectiles, the aft had loaded three armor piercing ones. The flight time to their target was a little over 13 seconds where two actually found their target, while the rest of the salvo missed by scant meters.

The HE shells detonated all over the pier and just below the carrier`s flight deck, filling the air with fire, overpressure and razor-sharp fragments. Among the first victims was the carrier`s officer in charge who had stepped towards the bridge wing to look for the strange light on the horizon. He was ripped apart by the fragments before he could take stock or give any orders.

On Wisconsin radar had measuredthe flight path of the just fired projectiles and found some errors which were duly put into the computers. Far below the battle bridge scores of sailors toiled like slaves to bring more shells and propellant into the waiting guns. When the new salvo arrived at their target they found a ship that hadalready started to burn in numerous places, smoking from rents and leaking fluids in others. Bodies were strewn throughout, yet the real disaster was yet to come.

Five HE shells actually found the target this time, penetrating the deck before they exploded far below, filling the cramped spaces with fire, destruction and death.
A single MK 8 AP shell hit the carrier's side. At this range the shell could have penetrated upwards of 650 mm armor, what steel was now in its way barely slowed it down. It continued its way through the warship till the shell found something that was able to slow it down and the fuse that had by now been activated triggered the burster charge.

Compared to the mighty shell the 18 kilograms of explosive seemed but an afterthought, a mere hundredth of its weight. Even normally this would do horrible damage in the close confines of warship, but here and now the results would far exceed even this elevated norm.

The carrier was powered by two A4W nuclear reactors which were expected to last for 20 years of operation. Filled with tons of weapons-grade enriched uranium, they were constructed to withstand nearly any foreseeable accident, yet the impact of a 16" shell had not been among the anticipated threats.

Fissile material was strewn far and wide through the engine rooms that at that point were already a morgue from the shell explosions. Inside the reactor fuel rods were torn from their mountings and dropped into a pile on the reactor'sfloor.
Neutrons were exchanged between the rods-lots of them. The pile on the floor was very very close to a critical mass and started to heat up to an menacing red glow rapidly. If any more material would have dropped on one of the piles or two of them should meet the unthinkable was just a chain reaction away-and then the next shell ripped things apart again. Before long the fuel would melt into lumps that put out intense radiation while the raging fires distributed radioactive particles downwind.

BB-64 Wisconsin, "Leningrad" same time

Coenraad van der Schroeff watched the burning ship on the monitor that displayed the video gathered from the ship`s drone.
"Scratch one Kuznetzow-class carrier, well done gentlemen. Shift fire to the Kara-class next to her."

BKA Wiesbaden, Germany

The Bundeskriminalamt (Federal Criminal Police Office) was one of the offices most changed by the events of the last 5 years. With a totally different threat level and new threats to boot, every police department, from the little village station to the uppermost offices like the BKA, had to rework many things.
The Magic and Cultist divisions soon became prominent departments. Today was a special one for BKA-President Holger Münch. The Magic division of the capital crime department, in cooperation with the Secret Services and Imperial Mages, completed their "Magic Map of Germany". Every magic-using organization or research institute, every licensed sorcerer with his or her study, every Magic school and Nexus point in Germany was registered there.
While it was problematic concerning data security, even the majority of the wizards was for this map. If something really weird or dangerous was happening, this map could save valuable time and lifes.
If magic indicators would, for instance record massive Chaos energies in a place the study of an Amber Mage should be, you would knew something was deeply wrong directly.
Conversely, recording massive Jade Winds, which can be problematic in a different way too, could be recognized as e.g. exams in Heidelberg or workings during seeding season.

Further it could help recognizing overlooked magic talent and the most important point of all, was the better ability to see magic-using Chaos or Mutant cults.
The Empire was working on its own map, but this one was still not complete. On one hand, the Empire´s magic users were concentrated mostly in comparatively few regions, but on the other hand Kaiser Karl-Franz´ realm was twelve times the size of Germany. This vast size, roughly 4.2 million square kilometres, even if not directly visible on maps due to the compact form of the Empire of Mankind, coupled with relative low population made the creation of a magic map a time intensive endeavour.