Zharr-Naggrund,

The iron atoms did what they always had done. They rattled inside the bounds set to them by the forces that bound them into crystals. Their movements were totally random and as chance decided. Chance and something that controlled chance. The rattling became less and less random and more ordered. Atoms started to move up and down in orderly patterns, like soldiers marching along a path.

Lord Gurath, mage and initiate of the Cult of Hashut used words of power that made their air vibrate in nauseating ways and his ceremonial knife ripped the intestines from another slave. To a casual observer not much seemed to happen than added stink, gore and misery, but Jasla was not a casual observer by far. She had seen the beings of the Empyrean that were drawn to the suffering, to the desperation and the death and that reviled in them. Saw a being that stretched the barriers between reality and madness more than the others, saw it hesitate, struggle and fail, saw it pulled into the waiting receptacle.
She would have done things differently, but this was not really her realm and different rules applied she still figured out.

Jasla looked at the newest project cooked up by her Germans. It was the first one made with the help of Dawi-Zharr mages and would either be a huge boost to her standing or a massive waste of resources. Unlike other projects the Germans could not show her pictures and specs of similar things their erstwhile countrymen had made before, this was something new, consequently the risk was higher. Even inside the huge cavern it looked impressive, yet as immobile as any statue. A great lot of high-grade steel had gone in there, good bearings and much else beside. This would better be worth it.
And then she saw the first twitch. The left arm on the statue before her moved a bit forward, then backwards. Hesitatingly at first, then with more vigor enormous limbs moved and the huge machine took a step forward. Arms moved forward till they were in front of something looking like a head. There they stayed motionless but for some turning with well articulated finger opening and closing.
And then the head tilted backwards and the huge statue of metal screamed. A scream that mixed the low rumble of moving lava with escaping high-pressure steam and unrestricted bloodlust.

Jasla watched Lord Gurath close up the ritual and when that seemed to start well she turned to Johann Prossy who watched his own creation in a mixture of awe and dread.
"Looks like the bonding went well Herr Prossy and I get this feeling that the demon is even please to be where he is. Now you tell me why this is such a breakthrough? The Dawi-Zharr have built such Iron Golems since a long time, some of them much bigger than this one. I heard one of them was big enough to transport hundreds of warriors inside."
"Yes Mistress, and yet they are all cast iron and therefore brittle. And Gurath over there told me that that contraption sunk into the ground when it was not solid rock like nobody`s business. It ended in splinters when it was hit by a relatively low-powered catapult. This is made of CRV—Steel-hard, ductile and hard to break. It has fully articulated limbs so it can move much easier and it is armed to the gills. This is a much more powerful machine and when you lay it down and detatch a few parts it fits railway profile so our employers can actually transport it to the front."
"What do you mean by "armed to the gills?"

"Each forearm holds a machine cannon and a machine gun. On each shoulder we have a 15-tube rocket launcher and we managed to stack a few missiles end-to-end into each tube so there are several salvos. We placed two 6-round launchers at the hips when we found it is quite stable there. A bit shorter range from there, but I do believe they will still be useful. The real problem will be control-both movement and target selection as well as fire control. Yet Lord Gurath stated that the demons bound to such machines can be controlled and that they learn to use any weapon fixed to them."
"So why did you not build tanks like in your old country."
"For that we need to produce highly efficient diesel or petrol engines, transmissions, hydraulics and a million of other things we can produce maybe in 10 to 20 years. We were under a lot of pressure to produce something fast so we cheated."
"Thought so. I have to admit I am impressed Herr Prossy, both by the mechanical parts and the aesthetics. I have to admit that I am very surprised by the latter part. You are a capable enough engineer but nobody ever accused you to be an artist. And yet this is not only mechanically sound but impressive and intimidating. How did you manage that?"
"Oh, I used an image from my misspend youth Mistress. It would be best not to tell Lord Gorath about the exact origins, but he asked me about the name of my creation. Not the true name of course but the name used by everybody. I asked him to call it the Crusader."

Reactions to the Army of Light

The message of the foundation of the Army of Light spread throughout the Old World.
Clerics and high nobles, having been witnesses of Valten's inspiring speech, were working day and night to formulate charter and agenda of their newest order, to forge the vague promises into a sharp sword that would be pointing at the neck of Chaos itself.
However, as these still had to be found, the initial news were mingled with many rumors and speculations.

In Bretonnia many nobles were alarmed when they heard about the new military order.
While the Reiksbund had caused many problems within Bretonnia with all the new German technologies and ideas flooding in, the Germans were somewhat predictable in their actions – as long as one didn't provoke them by slaughtering their population.
But an Empire wanting to individuate itself with an overhauled military might pose an unacceptable threat to Bretonnian interests and safety.
Irony of fate wanted it that it would be the cursed Germans and their diplomats that calmed down such fears by explaining in time that the new order would in fact operate in the North and would surely attract many restless warriors that had gathered in the region adjacent to the kingdom in hope to make a name of themselves in one of the increasing border incidents of the past few months.
The additional suggestion that Bretonnia should increase their own initiative in attempts to prevent said incidents were appreciated but in the end intentionally ignored...

Speaking of Germany, here the opinions were very diverse.
Certain newspapers depicted the order as nothing more than a bunch of warmongers eager to enlarge their territory with German technology and tactics.
Other factions welcomed the initiative, seeing no need to await Northern aggression before mobilizing against the existing threats in that region.
The Bundestag and the political leadership had to hold an extracurricular meeting to reach an official position.
Valten had implored some of his contacts about German readiness to share their warpstone-absorbing heather and harvester technology.
He also had discussed the necessity to train the Empire in their use of weapons and tactics they had received from Germany, but nobody had anticipated such a fast development.
Seeing that the Army of Light could be a reliable ally in future conflicts – that surely would come – German official position was that the Empire and Cult of Sigmar were free to conduct any operation against Chaos that wouldn't directly impede German safety.

The order already had stated its goal to operate in the North and to push back the ever growing chaos wastes, thus cooperating in a mission Germans already had begun in Sylvania, but some politicians still saw the need to declare potential targets such as Sylvania, Araby and the Beastmen as off-limits without prior consultation with Germany – of course while only having the best intentions in mind for their Reiksbund partner and to prevent misunderstandings.
While the official stance towards the order and its goals would remain positive and open, behind the curtains German authorities would often get into conflicts with the leadership of the order.
Benevolent meant advices were sometimes interpreted as hidden criticism or patronization, cooperation on military or logistical level often came with a large amount of typical German bureaucracy.
And it would take its due time until the German government would allow its citizens to join the order on their own accord, citing the need for several legal studies before they could come to a deliberated decision.

A region in which the news of the Army of Light was picked up with great interest was Kislev.
The lives of many Kislevites had been lost in battles beyond the Lynsk river, in attempts to push back Trolls and other threats lurking this this region.
While such campaigns might had been successful in the past, because of the ever spreading influence of warpstone, the Lynsk still remained as nominal border between Kislev and Troll Country.
As such, the government of the Tzarina had invited delegates of the new order to discuss matters of future military operations in the region.
At the moment, Kislev maintained close relations with the Empire, but the invitation made clear that any larger scale operations through Kislev would have to be coordinated with Kislevite authorities to make sure that no problems would arise.

These were just a few reactions to the foundation.
Luthor Huss had to jump-start an order with the clearly formulated goal to fight against chaos in the foreseeable future.
As expectations were growing with each passing day – enthusiasm for war was present in large parts of the imperial state because of the military victories in younger history – there would most likely be no time to slowly grow the order and adopt advices and methods of already established brother orders.

Even if the actual foundation of the order had to be quite rushed, mistakes in the organizational composition might cause great problems for the future.
In the time to come, a certain quotation of an unknown member of the Army of Light would find great resonance:
"Before one can raise his sword against the demons of Chaos, one first has to slay the dreadful behemoth called bureaucracy."
Help in his battle with said behemoth, Luthor would receive from an imperial compatriot.
While one loathed parts of German influence on the Empire and the Cult of Sigmar, the other had embraced the German way whilst being led by his strong volition to do anything necessary to destroy Chaos.

Background of Torben Treumark

Torben Treumark had led a good life near the border to Kislev.
As sole heir to a profitable merchant house, and blessed with a keen sense for opportunities, his livelihood had been secure.
His way of live changed for the first time, when he met a certain young woman by coincidence.
She had been the third daughter of an impoverished noble house.
Her family had lost most of its fortunes when the former patriarch and many of his loyal servants perished during an incursion into Troll Country.
While his courtship had gained him the interest of said daughter, her family refused their connection.
Even if poor, their pride wouldn't allow them to give the hand of any of their children to a commoner.
Instead, the daughter had been married off to a Kislevite noble that had promised to take care of the debts the family owned other Kislevites.

Having lost his just newly found reason to live, Torben plunged into work to forget the aching pain in his chest.
In this situation, the Weltensprung had happened.
While his competitors still fathomed the risks of trading and cooperating with the nation that had appeared out of thin air, Torben willingly embraced the chance that his keen business senses told him would grant him enough riches to redeem his beloved Margret.
And he really succeeded.
His company flourished, soon becoming the biggest company in the region of Schonfeld.
But when he traveled to Margret's ancestral home to persuade her father, he only found a funeral party.
Margret had been killed by a rouge group of Trolls that had invaded the border region of Kislev where she had been living.

Her husband was also present during the memorial service.
With his hulking two meters, Count Vitali Volkov was an impressive figure.
He was missing his right eye and arm, a broad white scar telling that he received this wounds in a merciless fight.
Seeing his imagination confirmed that this was the evil mastermind blackmailing Margret's family to get his dirty hands on her, Torben's opinion changed immediately after the mourning widower recognized his name.
The former warrior knelt down in front of Torben, apologizing that he wasn't there to protect Margret.
He promised to do anything in his power, to take revenge for her death – even if it would cost him his entire fortune.
Later that day, Torben would learn that Vitali learned of his courtship only months ago, when Margret finally told him herself.
Until then he had thought to have repaid his debt to the dead patriarch that had sent him away only weeks before his entire group disappeared in the vastness of Troll Country.
Her family had 'forced' him to marry Margret so the family could shoulder the disgrace to accept his financial help.

But then and there, during the memorial service for his beloved Margret, Torben greatly impressed the Count and Margret's family.
"Stand up, my friend.
It only takes a moment to see that you are a true warrior, one that means each of his words.
While you can raise your weapon to take revenge, what can I do?
I would be more of a burden, if I tried to imitate a warrior.
But while missing this kind of power, I can offer the power of money.
Tell me the amount you can provide, I shall triple the amount and even more.
I hereby swear in the name of Sigmar, and by my honor as merchant, I shall do everything necessary to pay the monsters of the north back – with interest!"

It was on an evening about two weeks later, Torben and Vitali sat together in Schonfeld to prepare for their revenge, when the news about the Army of Light reached them.
After thinking about it for nearly an hour, Torben addressed Vitali whom already could guess what he wanted to say.
"You know, the Germans have a saying 'Revenge is a dish best served cold'..."
The old Kislevite had to laugh.
"...best served cold…
Believe me son, us Kislevite have great experience regarding everything cold.
I can only offer you a single sword even this gets more difficult with my age.
But your manner of planning has already impressed me.
If you equip not only this old geezer and a few of his friends, but an entire army… the trolls will really curse the day."

Temporary Headquarters of the Army of Light, Altdorf

It already had been three days since his arrival in town.
He had sent letters and tried his best to negotiate a meeting with somebody from the new order.
But he realized that this wouldn't work in this situation.
Right now, the order was like a new product, already advertised widely, demand rising higher and higher with each day.
There must be hundreds that wanted to be the first to join the order, offer their services or make a profit in any imaginable way.
So he had to do something to stand out in this large crowd.

When he attended the mass this day, he raised his voice when the collection bag was passed around.
"Excuse me father, I fear that this collection bag is a little too small for my donation."
Heads in the entire church turned his way, while he was gently shaking a large bag of coins.
The cleric thanked him for his generous donation and accepted it himself.

He repeated the act the next day, while making sure that others heard that he would like to speak with someone of the new order.
On the third day, a cleric intercepted him in his hotel and led him to one of the buildings the new order was inhabiting right now.
He was left alone in a small library, filled to the brim with all kinds of books.
Only seconds later, he hadn't even the chance to prepare himself correctly, the door was swung open with great vigor.
Grandmaster Huss himself was standing in front of him.
His merchant senses responded and he tried to introduce himself, but Huss interrupted him harshly.

"Do not think for a single second that your bribes has anything to do with this meeting.
For the better or worse, I just have a little bit of free time between arguing with arrogant Bretonnians, demanding Germans and supposedly all the worldwide vermin that was fast enough to get here in the past few days since the proclamation of our order.
A last warning:
I already have lost most of my patience, and it will surely take many months to gather enough of it again to be able to waste it on somebody like you.
So keep it short."
The imposing man kept standing there, staring down on Torben.
Normally he should feel fear, but he already had made the decision to put his fate into the hands of the order.

"Father, I am well aware that your adamantine convictions would never waver in the face of mere money.
But as both our time is limited, and I am sure that similar offers will soon reach you, I saw no other way to get in contact with the Army of Light."
The stare became a little gentler, now it would only kill instantly in MOST normal situations.

"Your order has authority.
Valten and with him Sigmar himself looks favorably on it.
Soon you will have countless eager men at your hand that are willing to die for their convictions.
But to truly succeed in your stated mission, you will need more, you will also need money, logistical planing, negotiations for passing rights, provisions, and many other things."

"Your are right, there already had been many offers of a similar kind.
German Masters of Economy want to say me how to lead my 'company', their companies offer me contacts for weapons, logistics and everything else one could buy with money, while others offer to provide the necessary money for guaranteed interest rates."
So what can you offer me?"

"You, as grandmaster, I offer nothing.
But the order, I offer everything I possess:
My fortune, my company, my knowledge, my connections, even my body and soul.
The North has taken the only thing precious to me and I already swore in the presence of a large crowd to commit my entire self to the goal of smiting the monsters dwelling in the North.
All the others will have their own agendas, their own goals.
But seeing that the Army of Light is my best bet to destroy the North, I shall offer my whole being.
Let every dead troll, ork, or any other Chaos being be a part payment of my revenge against them.

In return, I only have two demands:
Fist, you in your position as grandmaster, grant me your approval in three cases where you and my opinions are different.
I might never use even one of this claims, but as long as you agree to this, I will use the best of my talents to help to form your army.
Not into a single sword pointed to the neck of the enemy.
But into a giant war machine, not only capable of producing hundreds and thousand of such weapons, but also capable of supplying everything the warrior to wield this weapons will need in their battles.
If you do not agree to this demand or to my claims in the future, you may kill me on the spot.
I already prepared a certified document transferring my entire worldly possessions to the Army of Light.
Use this assets to reach your goals."

For several minutes, silence hanged in the room.
Torben had knelt in front of Luthor, while the grandmaster mustered the merchant.
When a cleric attempted to enter the room to call Luthor for his next appointment, he was sent back with a harsh gesture.
Then Luthor addressed Torben.
"You have nearly convinced me.
If the second demand that you still hadn't spoken off will receive my approval, I will welcome you here and there as newest member of the Army of Light."
On another sign of Luthor, Torben stood up again before continuing.

"My second demand is that you, may you ever feel that my participation had contributed enough to the cause of the order to make a positive difference, pray to Sigmar to hold a protecting hand over the woman I have lost to the North."
Being somewhat impressed by this modest demand, Luthor thought for the first time in his life, that he might – someday – consider a merchant like this as a friend.
"I cannot tell if you or your actions will be seen worthy enough to speak of you to Sigmar, but I am sure that it would be difficult to find many men with stronger convictions in this town.
If you want to help me kill the enemy, you can start right now and help me to kill a few of these 'Papiertiger' that want to drown us in forms and request before we even have seen the first Chaos spawn…"
He hesitated for a moment, but decided to speak his thoughts instead of simply implying his intention.
"Do you want to tell me the name of this woman now?
Or do you want to carry her name with you, as treasure that will remind you of your ultimate goal, accompanying you on this strenuous path you have chosen?"

Torben bowed to Luthor before answering.
"I shall carry her name within me until the day that all of this is deemed worthy."

Part of a routine by the comedian group 'Sechserpack'

An office in a German agency.
An impressive looking man, wearing shining armor, is entering the room and approaches the only desk.
He slams a small stack of filled out documents on the desk and proclaims with a strong voice, but somewhat haunted eyes.

"I was sent here in the name of the Army of Light!
We will kill the vampires and free this world from their detestable existence!"

The clerk, an uninterested looking woman with small glasses for reading, only now notices the presence of the knight.
She takes the documents and scans them, then answers in a bored voice like repeating rehearsed sentences.
"It seems like all necessary documents to request such an endeavor are present, but Herr… Wolfsblade, I cannot agree to this.
I am well informed about the past disputes regarding Sylvania, but there hadn't been any incidents since the regions closely cooperates with the Reiksbund.
I cannot see any reasons stated that are convincingly enough to threaten this relations in the current situation."

The knight is silent for several seconds.
He might had wanted to protest at first, but he seems to have some experiences with German bureaucracy.
"Then we will eradicate the Beastmen vermin.
They shall taste our cold steel!"
"Aah… the Beastmen again.
I am really sure that your order already has received the newest informational material about them, am I correct?
Within Reiksbund territorial borders, their threat level is virtually non-existent.
There are individual cases, but nothing justifying genocide.
Statistically, it is more probable that you will die by accident on your journey TO Beastmen territory, then being killed by Beastmen themselves."

The knight jerks for a moment, as if hit by something.
Way less energetic than before he still tries his best.
"… Then… the pirates of Araby…?"
Now the clerk gets angry.
She stands up and stares down the knight that sinks into the seat behind him.
"You DO understand how fragile the situation down there is, right?
They behave themselves most of the time, and you are reimbursed by Germany – very generously – for anything you might lose because of them.
So do not come to me with this made up 'all pirates are evil' stuff."

Now the knight reaches his limit.
He speaks in a nervous voice, avoided eye contact and instead concentrating on the stack of documents he had invested so much effort to assemble.
"But, but… then… I mean… what about… the North?
I mean the Northern Chaos wastes.
There surely is no problem there, right?
I mean… please, please say me there is no problem there."

Ignoring the begging voice, the clerk begins to check something on her computer.
With each stroke the knight seems to feel more lost.
Then finally he gets an answer.

"Seems like it would be okay.
Last week, a very depressed looking Kislevite had filled out a request for assistance against the local troll tribes.
The poor man had to repeat the request five times because he just couldn't fill it out correctly..."
While having pity on the men whose troubles surely had much to do with the snares of bureaucracy, the knight pulled himself together.
Standing up, he attempted to regain his impressive aura, even if only very poorly.

"Okay then… *cough cough* We shall smite the enemy in the North!
For Sigmar!"
The knight takes the signed documents and is already turning around to leave the office, when the computer made a signal sound.
The knight displays a face as if all four Chaos gods themselves had appeared behind him – something not even them would dare without first filling out a TB-115.c form for teleportation within buildings.

The camera focuses on the clerk as she puts away her reading glasses after she had finished reading the new information.
"I am very sorry, Herr Wolfsblade, but the northern Chaos wastes were just declared natural reservation for a critically endangered species of root vole..."
The picture fades out and the last sound the viewers hear is the desperate cry of the knight, breaking down mentally.

Forbidden City, Weijin

Wolfgang Böhler felt ill at ease. This was only partially due to the formal clothes of a Mandarin he had to wear. While they were stifling, restricted movement and were a far cry of the unending series of BDU he wore in the field they were only a small part of the irritation. His current surroundings also played a part. Everything that was not made of red woods polished to a glossy sheen was a variation of yellow, the color of royalty in Cathay. The room he was in was decorated by intricate drawings, by brass bowls done in brilliant colors, by vases of breathtaking beauty and carpets that must have cost many a fortune.
The officials that ushered him along were unusually tall for Cathayans, often borderline obese and whenever they spoke Wolfgang cringed and tried to press his legs together. He should be used to the Eunuchs by now, but it was still disconcerting.
Neither these nor the jasmine tea in the intricate bowl in his hands managed to unsettle him, that privilege was given to the woman in front of him.

She had been a stunner, very very beautiful, once and she was still very nice to look at today. Jinjin "the Golden" was petite in a society where a man of 1,70 meters height was considered tall and had impeccable manners. She was also the only of all the Dragon`s concubines who had ever given birth to a healthy boy and while Jinjin had never received an official title as regent while her son was underage there was certainly no need to. Wolfgang Böhler was pretty sure that she would be able to swim in shark-infested waters as the predators would know who was the more dangerous.
"I have heard that the Dragon was very pleased with your glorious victories. It seems he feels vindicated by his decision to finance and buy these chariots for you to use. How are they called, MogMog?"
Wolfgang Böhler was very sure that Jinjin was pleased, felt vindicated and had used her son as a mouthpiece as she had done ever since her husband had died.
"A much better name than the mundane Unimog we use Madame Jinjin. They have proven to be very useful as they allow us to attack the Greenskins and evade their counterattacks. The armor and the weapons provided by our technical team give them quite a bite and protect them from what the enemy can do. Ever since we realized how vulnerable their Bison herds are we have great success in pushing them back towards the north."

"How strange not to attack the enemy himself but his food."
"A great general on Earth said that an army marches on its stomach Madame."
"A wise man that general, I am sure. Yet your success could well be your undoing Tidu Böhler."
"How so Madame?"
"In a few months the Hobgoblins will be gone from the Heavens or they will be dead. And while it is always a blessing to have a man of your caliber around it is also an expensive undertaking. The Dragon might well decide in his wisdom that your services are no longer needed."
"That would be a great shame. Thank you for the warning Madame, I will try to plan accordingly."

"There might be a way for the Heavenly Throne to extend its generosity to you and your valiant soldiers Tidu. Might you be interested to hear about it?"
"That would be a great boon Madame."
"There is an uprising of the lesser people in south Cathay, especially in the provinces around Najiang. The Dragon`s glorious troops could use the aid of your stalwart soldiers."
"I have heard only very little about this Madame and have to rely on your wisdom. Yet I am not sure if the Wild Geese are the right unit for this job."
"Why do you say so Tidu?"
"Such uprisings rarely have a concentrated army that we can best in the field Madame. Usually they are militia at best which fights when it has a vast numerical superiority and hides among the population when they are confronted with a real threat. To win in such a case you need to occupy and supervise vast tracts of land. My soldiers are good and well-armed, but using them for such an operation would be like bringing a knife to eat thin soup."
"Talking to you is still such a novelty Tidu Böhler. You are so direct in your speech, it is like a refreshing rain after a period of muggy weather."
"I am very sorry for any insult Madame, I did not intend…"
"You are not of our people Wolfgang Böhler and so you are forgiven, especially as you say the truth. Now, what would you need to combat such an uprising?"

"Madame, we already have hired a great lot of your countrymen to aid us. They work in many capacities to release soldiers for the field, but none fight. If I were allowed to raise troops here and I would be given the means to train and equip them we could do much more than now."
"How could you do so?"
"We have great experience in training local troops Madame, this is how the Wild Geese came into being. And while I know that the German government will not sell you substantially more weapons, yet the Antiguilla Magazine could supply more-and an investment by the Heavenly Throne would expand our abilities to do so to the point where we could make a real difference."
"Tai que la."
"Yes Madame, this will be expensive. Yet The Throne might consider that these weapons would remain here when we have the sad duty to leave this country and the trained soldiers would continue to serve the Dragon."
"You are not just refreshing, you speak wisdom Tidu. I hope that the Dragon will learn of such wisdom and I pray he will heed it."
"We all bow down before the wisdom of the Dragon Madame."

Wolfgang Böhler positively hated the clumsy shoes that were a part of his uniform and his legs protested the long period of sitting in a cramped position. When he got up he stumbled and his sleeve promptly dropped into the tea cup used by Jinjin. He excused himself profusely and was told several times that it was not his fault.
The sleeve was shipped to Ottokar Proktor`s lab a day later.

Finkenwerder, close to Hamburg

Colonel Mike Kozlowski saw the future on his way to the next briefing and he did not like it one bit. The grandly named "B1" sat on the apron and looked like an old fat man gearing up to war when compared to his plane. The fuselage had a bigger diameter and where his B52 had long, slender wings that gracefully dropped this plane had much deeper ones that had several fairings to it that supposedly followed the area rule. Both fuselage and wings had been built with as many parts and tools of the A320 and A340 Airliners, changing only what was necessary to move the wings on top, have a bicycle landing gear with auxiliary wheels under the wings and a long bomb bay. All of that costed 70 knots of speed easily, even when the wings of the plane were "clean" as the huge fuel tanks inside them and the more efficient engines did not need the external tanks used by the Grey Lady. The "B1" looked a bit like a caricature, a photoshop of an airliner going to war.

Yet the looks were only the first line of offense for his dislike. The plane had taken over most of the airliner`s controls and instruments, adding the military functions in the TFT`s. Instead of using a yoke like god had intended he flew the plane with a side-mounted stick that gave artificial feedback and which treated his inputs as polite requests that were checked by no less than three computers before they transmitted their take on his inputs to the actuators. And if he wanted to put his plane into an incline that might lead to a stall sooner or later, descent so fast that the VNE might be a bit close or pull the plane a really tight turn the computer would simply decline to do so. He was a combat pilot and he wanted to make his plane do the things he wanted, not what some know-it-all engineer deemed safe.

He was further irked by the fact that his crew liked the plane much better than him. They liked the ergonomics, the added room provided by the bulkier fuselage and the nicer amenities that resulted from the airliner origins. They could not stop to praise the toilets that had been directly taken from Lufthansa machines and that were a far cry from the B52 which was so drafty and badly constructed that many crewmembers preferred to wear diapers. As if the value of a bomber was determined by the bloody toilet.

The room held enough tables and chairs for his small crew and several engineers that gave a presentation on the changes they had wrought on the "bomber" since their last test flights. It was about about a million small things like actuator lag, problems with some data busses and hydraulic leaks that were supposedly taken care of.
When Thorsten Böttcher came to the next slide Mike was already close to nodding off which why his head came up in such a hurry when the contents registered in his brain.
"The results of the last tests flights have confirmed that we can relax the restrictions on the fly-by-light software considerably including an all-off switch. When pressed it will allow the pilot to bypass any safeguards on the planes controls. We advise to use this in emergency only.
MTU finally gave the green light for using the water injection both for hot-and-high take-offs and emergency maneuvering. You gain 15% more thrust when needed."

Two hours later the crew had made their checks, filed the flight plan and had the plane lined up with the runway.
"Bald Eagle requests permission for takeoff."
"Permission granted."
Mike Kozlowski spooled the turbines up by quite a bit before releasing the brakes. It would be wrong to say the huge plane accelerated like a sports car, but there was a huge surge in power that moved pilot and crew as if it were the first time. The strips in the middle of the four kilometers long Finkenwerder runway merged into a blur and his navigator ran the numbers by him.
He rotated the bomber off the runway and climbed at a rate that would make any Lufthansa pilot green with envy. And while the stick might not vibrate as satisfactorily as his old yoke and there were no steel cables connected to it the rate of climb was quite satisfying and actually exceeded what the Lady could do.
Reaching 9000 meters Mike laid in a course for the Sea of Claws and even handled the plane of to the autopilot until they had reached the assigned area. They were met by Tornado that was doing duty as pursuit plane today.
"Bald Eagle for Spotter 1, are we clear for maneuvering?"
"Spotter 1 for Bald Eagle, as much as your crate is capable of it, yes we are."
"Here we go."

His left hand flipped the cover above a red button away and depressed it. The plane rolled as smoothly as he could ask for and did not slow or stop when he was at 45 degree. Pulling on the stick and depressing the corresponding rudder pedal he forced the huge plane into a downwards spiral so tight that the airframe started to creak.
He watched the altimeter wind down till the numbers blurred while he was pressed into the seat by the G-forces he had called upon.
"Spotter is still behind us Mike."
There was still a gun at the tail of this plane, even when it was not loaded with ammo. Yet the sensors connected to it were very much operational, allowing the gunner to give updates to the pilot.
The plane rolled even further till the point where the wingtips where pointed directly at the sea, tightening the curve even more and the creaking reached alarming levels. The great fuselage and the wings were presented to the slipstream more, slowing the bomber rapidly despite the best that four turbofans could do.
Kozlowsi`s hand found the button at the end of the 4 throttle levers and depressed it. Immediately a mixture of methanol and water was injected into the engines` combustion chambers, cooling the raging inferno in there to the point where more fuel could be injected into the increased air flow created by the lowered back pressure. The steam from the vaporized water was ejected to the back and caused the exhaust to change from colorless to an evil black.

Speed stabilized at a heartbeat above stall and a 300-ton airplane turned in ways that made the Tornado pilot sit up and take notice.
The turning gyre had brought both planes to attitudes normally given to sail ships masts and both could be seen racing across the sea at a speed not so very far from the speed of sound at a height that made the ocean turn up a huge trail of foam higher than the planes` attitude.
Mike Koslowski found that a man can love more than one plane at the same time on this day.

As a little gimmick here are some songs which could be played at various times throughout the story: (more will follow at irregular intervals)

If my heart had wings OST/ A new World

watch?v=RZv8xFnAkOk

Aus der Neuen Welt(From the New World)

watch?v=BDOiQDvjuuc

Panzerlied (in the really good instrumental G&P movie version)

watch?v=WuUAwTaOni0

Der Choral von Leuthen (the hymn of Leuthen)

watch?v=7E2wq4Gu0rw

Burning Bridges

watch?v=qXIjE_gDw94

Valkyrie ha nanji no Yuuki wo aiseri (Valkyries love thy bravery)

watch?v=8nt7L3_eVVs

Deutschlandlied (German anthem)

watch?v=WCdP_E5Rc5Y

For Bretonnia (Loyalists)

watch?v=46cqiFowr9Q

For Kislew

watch?v=eQvCV_IxvP4