Close to Weijin

No longer did bonds and fetters keep Areta on her bed, gravity and a total lack of motivation did a far better job. The air that she breathed had lost its sparkle, the food she ate was either burning her palate, was so dull that she barely remembered it, had a texture that was revolting or simply made her vomit. The things around her looked dull, felt dull and none of them held her interest. She was ashamed of her state when her friends visited her and could barely muster the strength to thank them properly. She knew she had to get up and going soon, her absence could not be covered anymore and to her horror she found that she no longer cared. She had lain on her bed ever since breakfast and nobody had bothered to bring her something to lunch. She was hungry and did not have the strength to get up and do something about it.

She had not felt much but sorry for herself during the last hours but now something else caught her attention. She had drunken more than a little tea during the last hours and now that had to go somewhere. It was dead easy, she did not even have to get up for real, there was a chamber pot close by. She would have to push herself up, walk two meters, hunker down and conduct business before getting back to bed.

She tried to gain the motivation for that since noon at the very least. She tried to imagine herself getting up, anticipated the pains in her back and tights and never moved a muscle. The mounting pressure made her uneasy and she tried the trick that she had used on many a long watch, fantasy about something hot and steamy. That usually relieved some of the pressure and she started to cry when she found she did not even care enough about some of her nicest memories to get excited about them. By now things were coming to a burst and she imagined how she would be found in her own filth. It was disgusting and degrading, it would surely eliminate even the last shreds of respect her friends had for her. Breda`s face appeared in her vision and the way she berated recruits that could not perform to her standards. And that was when she found her legs moving by themselves, found herself scrambling of her bed and towards the pot that held salvation.

When she cleaned herself up she smelled herself, shuddered and dropped all her clothes into the hamper. Even the cold water in the jug could not prevent her from using it, what soap remained and the sponge. She was back in bed a few minutes after that but the sleep that got hold of her was more relaxed than any she had in the weeks before.

Neustadt, Naggaroth

The hall was made of too-fresh wood like most Neustadt buildings these days. When the wind came from the wrong direction the banners that hung behind Thorsten Breitkop moved and a chill went through the assembly. It did not register with any of the participants as they had more important things on their mind. Thorsten Breitkopf was addressing a few hundred Humans and Dawi, Anja was watching him proudly and the slaves would hear about the rest of their lives so a bout of cold air had no chance to gather anyone`s attention.

"Welcome to the Neustadt Small Arms Factory. I know that none of you asked to be here or at least in Naggaroth but this is neither here nor there. We do not have chains in the NASF and we do not have locked doors but for a few. We do not use whips and we do not kill. If you want to go, go outside of the gates and nobody will keep you from doing so. Just remember that outside are the Druchii and you all know how they will treat you.

How we will treat you depends on two things: how hard you work and how much you are willing to learn. Most of you will work at the assembly lines and you will earn credits for the work you do. With credits you can buy nicer food, better quarters, better clothes and time off. The more you work the more credits you ear. If you learn then you will receive a workplace that needs trained craftsmen, you will earn more credits, in some cases much more. Remember that most credits are earned in your work unit so do not let your co-workers down. When you leave this room you will be given a set of clothing and you`ll be assigned your berths. You will receive three meals a day according to the needs of your race and job. If you do not like your food or the berths earn more credits.

Starting tomorrow you will be tested for your abilities and we will assign your training accordingly. The training we assign to you will be on the days off. If you think you are better than your test results you can study after work, that road is always open. Show us you can hack it and you will get a better job.

You see the guys with the red shirts on the wall? These are the guards. They are of us and they will see that you keep the line. Respect them, because if they cannot do the job the Druchii will come in here and do it for them. I do not have to tell you that this is not a desirable outcome for anybody so we should avoid that.

Some of you may have heard that some Germans who work here are worse than any Druchii. I will not comment on that but for one thing: Anybody who works in here belongs to me and me only. And anybody who touches somebody who works for me answers to me. So as long as you work for me you are fine. Any questions?"

South Sea

62000 horsepower, the ability to throw five tons of steel and explosive up to 30 kilometers away per minute, 28 knots, it was all very impressive to Ingam Grundisson. But the thing that had taken his breath away as he had not anticipated it in any way had been the air condition. He was one of Barak Varr`s most experienced captains, having commanded a monitor and a dreadnaught for more years than most humans were alive. The weather in the South Sea could be very nice when the season was right and he heard some humans enjoyed simply soaking up the sun on the beach which just proved they were addled. But when the summer was on, when the winds blew the dry hot air of the Araby deserts over the sea it became incredibly hot. When one was working a dreadnaughts engine rooms or manned a turret the temperatures could lay a Dawi low if care was not taken. It was one of the things that dwarves found harder to tolerate than humans which was hardly surprising given their normal habitat and the bane of Dawi sailors. Ingam had heard what Barak Varr had to pay to air condition most rooms on the battleship and even the most closefisted Dawi sailor would think every Mark well spend. Well-rested sailors worked better, captains without sweat in their eyes saw better.

Currently Varrjag ploughed the sea at a bit below 20 knots, faster than any Dawi ship ever and using less than half the available power it had. Look-outs watched the sea through high-powered binoculars, radar antennas rotated and the sonar blasted the sea with medium-frequency soundwaves. They all detected a whole lot of nothing but empty sea and that was a bad thing indeed. Normally the waters south of Sarasota should have several ships that carried the trade between Araby, the Border Kingdoms, Bretonia, Tile and Estelia. There were none and that had made Kind Grundisson send Captain Grundisson on a wild goose chase.

So while there was a lot of sunshine, while there was a millpond sea and while neither lookouts nor new-fangled sensors would show anything that could be regarded as a threat Ingam was tense. His bridge crew tiptoed around him as he was about to bite a face off soon.

"Captain, I have a reading on the magic indicator at 231 degrees."
"Anything more than a reading sensors?"
"No Sir, just that."
"Hagar, anything to see, anything on this radar?"
"No Sir, nothing."
"Sir may I offer a suggestion?"

There was one person on the bridge who did not walk on eggshells. Peter Rademacher was one of the few German advisors still on the ship and did not care one bit about the captain`s mood.

"Yes manling."
"If the contact is not visible he will likely be underwater. If we slow down below 12 knots our sonar will become much more effective and should allow us to detect something."
"Noted manling. Helm, turns for 10 knots."

The vibrations that came through the feet subsided and changed frequency, the diesel`s thrumming quieted appreciably and the ship slowed down.

"Sir, we have a large contact at 233 degrees."
"Sensors-what kind of contact?"
"We do not know Sir. It is not moving, it hovers at 65 meters and it is huge."
"What do you mean by huge?"
"More than 60 meters Sir."
"Critter or wreck?"
"Sir give us a minute. We need to switch off the active sonar for a moment."
"Make it so."

A few terse minutes later.

"Sir, we have no sounds that say critter, but it may be too large for a wreck."
"Herr Rademacher, any ideas?"
"If you take us a little closer we could use the mine detector sonar. It has better resolution."
"We`ll try that. Helm, course 233, turns for 10 knots."
"Course 233 10 knots aye."

Varrjay turned slightly and both dawi and human bent over a screen that depicted the scans done by a short-range, high-resolution ultrasonic sonar.
"Sir, I do not believe this is a floating wreck."
"Why not Herr Rademacher."
"Because parts of it move."
"Aha. Anything else?"
"Yes, its really big. Parts of it were masked by ground clutter for the long-range sonar."
"So it is big and does nothing right manling?"
"Sums it up in one Sir."
"Then let`s do something about it. Helm, turn for 20 knots, course 233. Guns, I want a spread of water bombs on top of whatever is down there."

The great ship accelerated again, following a course that took it right over whatever was in the water. King Grundisson had spent major money on the "Panzerschiff" and he would not have his price defenceless against one of the most insidious dangers that lurked in the Warhammer Seas. Unwilling to pay for the rocket launchers on "Altdorf" Blohm and Voss had installed something they called "multipurpose rails" which could hold mines or water bombs. At both sides of the ship rating pulled the safeties of something that seemed like a pedestal for more water bombs. When the ship crossed the point where sonar had pinpointed the contact fat bombs rolled off the rails while the "pedestals" suddenly threw the water bombs in arcs of nearly a hundred meters.

"Varrjag was now speeding from the doom she had sown herself. 15 Seconds after the last weapon had vanished under the surface huge waterspouts rose from the sea, reaching higher than Varrjag`s mast.

And then nothing happened.
"Sensors, what is up?"
"Sir we have no clear picture."
"Why is that manling, is your gear already broken?"
"No Sir, this is why we suggested that you buy the rocket launchers. The waterbombs have churned the water so much that there are too many false targets. We lost the contact when we drove over it and now we have to reacquire. This will take 5 minutes or so."
"Noted manling. Helm, new course 000, we`ll circle this till things are clearer."
"Sir, look."
"Geras, how are you to report….Grimnir`s beared."

Close to the point where the waterspouts had been churning something rose from the water, something huge. Its exact shape was hard to discern as a virtual waterfall dropped to the sea, but it was bulky, with a crocodile`s snout done to the size of a galley and horns that reached above the already high head. Horns that started to glow while and unending scream made everybody freeze for a few seconds.
"Guns, target is..is that thing. Remove it from my sight."

Whatever had risen from the sea was it made for a decent radar target. The computers of Varrjag new the range within a second and rejected the value for being too short till a human hand slapped the override to get the fire control computer working. Ten seconds after the command indicators moved in the triple turrets, indicating where they were to turn. Coarse hands pressed buttons that allowed the turret to assume the rotation but the barrels did not rise. Not from any mistake but as the range was so short. Two groups of three lights showed "guns" that he was ready to and a press of a button gave the computer the permission to fire if everything was aligned. The computer decided that this was a quarter of second later and six shots rang out. The huge muzzle blasts flattened the water besides the warship.

The shots went out the very second several balls of lightning ripped free of beast`s horns and lazily arced over the water. They were still underway when 4 100-kilogram shells hit their target. Two of them hit tentacles and found nothing solid enough to trigger their fuses, one glanced along the long snout, digging a deep and bloody furrow before flying on and the last hit one of the horns. The fuse in the shell`s base blew the charge of some 10 kilogram of explosives, sending a shockwave and 80 kilogram worth of fragments into the head that had held the horn.

While the beast started its descend into the water the ball lightning impacted on Varrjag. The balls ruptured when they hit the ship and lightning arced from there. Many meters of the fine wood that covered the ship`s deck flared and turned to charcoal in short order. Fast moving electrons inscribed black marks into the armour of the forward turret and two lookouts where incinerated. A secondary turret stopped moving until the crew rebooted its electronics and many square meters of lovingly applied enamel paint were discoloured and blistered.

Ten seconds later a second salvo raced from the "Panzerschiff" and colored the waters in shades of red. Two more runs with waterbombs made very sure that whatever had risen from the waters would stay down this time.

Arlanda airport Stockholm, Sweden, Earth

Carl Bildt, now one of Sweden´s longest-serving foreign ministers, couldn´t be seen directly in the mass of people in Arlanda´s main hall. Blue-Yellow flags were waved, people laid in each other's arms...

It was a great day for Sweden. When the "Världhoppet", Sweden had loaned Germany´s designation for the event, happened, the town of Skopstorp on Sweden´s west coast was transported to the Liaoning province in the People´s Republic of China. Skogstorp had been exchanged with the Cathayian city of Shenlong from the Warhammer world.

A serious political crisis between Sweden and the Peoples Republic of China about the fate of the transported people brewed. Since Shenlong was seen as quasi-Chinese territory by Beijing, they wanted control. In addition, China had roughly two and a half thousand Swedes from Skogstorp as additional pressure.

Not helping the situation were the Cathayians in Sweden, if with understandable reasons. Shenlong had lived for all of it´s existence under the "heavenly mandate" of the Cathayian Emperor. For a proper Cathayian, a Peoples Republic was nothing more than heresy. Shenlong wanted asylum in Sweden and got it, but the crisis was not over. With Earth in disarray after the event, massively hit by the damages incurred, Germany and some other parts of Earth missing, the cards of which nation was standing where on power level were given anew.

Neither Sweden nor China could stand down. And Sweden had the weaker stats. It was many times smaller in size and population, With Germany missing the EU had weakened, so there was less backing for Stockholm. Worse, Germany had been a friend who could make herself heard in Beijing, mediating.

Still, not all was bad for Sweden. While the Cathayians could definitely be designated as a variant of Chinese and understandable why Beijing thought of them as under their purview, they still where a different thing and far away from mainland China. Considering that even years after the Weltensprung infrastructure and transportation on the northern hemisphere were still a shadow of the time before, how would China rule and contact Shenlong without it being a total money drain? And a PRC base in Europe, it was doubtful, if Moscow, Washingon or London would accept that. There were further points why neither Stockholm nor Beijing could be satisfied with the situation. too much political prestige already stood on the line.

It was Bildt, who convinced Shenlong to send a delegation to China. And Beijing recognised the ball Bildt had knowingly sent them. Shenlong´s delegation got a very nice treatment in China, even if it was not that difficult to impress the Cathayians.

The Swedes knew that acclimatising would be doubly difficult for the newcomers on Earth. Not only was Shenlong centuries back in technological development, except magic, but both climate and culture in Sweden were very different for people coming straight from a Ming-era analogue and southern Cathay, which if estimated correctly was a rather warm place.

Having a similar culture around, would surely help the Cathayians greatly in settling down.

And they were right. After coming back to Shenlong, the delegation reported on the state of being in China. While there were still reservations, their way of life was too ingrained not to have some, most citizens of Shenlong decided to move to China. About 14, 000 decided to stay in Sweden and keep the old Shenlong alive. That was a solution both sides could live with.

The problem solved, the Swedes stranded in China were transported back to Stockholm for the big welcome party first in Arlanda later on in Stockholm proper. Even for Carl Bildt that night would be a long and happy one.

Galleon "Erasmus" South Sea, 300 Kilometers south of Saratosa

The pale winter sun shone on a collection of ships. Their sails hung listlessly from the yards as not even the slightest wind billowed them to provide locomotion. While the sailors were busy pouring water over them so they might catch the slightest breeze there was none to be had and so the small convoy was getting nowhere.

Pieter van Ries looked morosely at the scene and pondered his ill fortune. He had been one of the many Marienburg sailors who had been stranded on the Warhammer World when his native city disappeared and Germany came to this world.
As the most experienced captain of the ex-Marienburg traders who found themselves in Erengard at that moment he had organized a shipping company. The first years had been good as far as business had been concerned. The Germans had an insatiable hunger for materials and van Ries had often known where to obtain them. Likewise the Imperials had increased needs and the "Marienburgers" had been willing to fulfill them.
Yet during the last years things had gone sour. The Germans did a lot of their own shipping these days now that they knew where to go, having built the ships needed in this world and having erected harbors that suited them.

The Imperials and the Norscans began to use new ships inspired by and build with German help, and while these were a far cry from the German monsters they were still far in advance of what van Ries and company commanded. Still there was enough cargo to go around even if money was tighter than before. Van Ries had been happy that the Breton`s military reputation had sunken so much during the last years as it had allowed him to hire two War Galleons. They were not made of steel, had neither engine to drive them nor cannons that would hit targets beyond the horizon unerringly but more than 60 cannon on each would spell quick doom on any pirate that would attack them.

Yet cheap as they might come by, they still cost a pretty penny for each day they protected the convoy and currently none of them moved an inch. He finally got irritated enough that he decided to pester Meister Servantes again. The Celestial mage had promised to rouse a favorable wind this morning and the sounds of the ritual he performed in his cabin had gone for long enough. To be more precise they had stopped some time ago already and nothing but a dead calm ensued so it was time to remind the mage of his duties.

He had learned not to barge in the mage`s den unannounced a long time ago and rapped his knuckles at the wooden door several times without an answer. Neither that, the shouted inquiries or the banging of fists would gain any better result. When van Ries and a boatswain finally broke through the opening they found Meister Servantes dead on the floor. Copious amounts of blood pooled under the mage`s head, coming from mouth, nose and the empty eye sockets.
When the captain of the Erasmus was back on deck the pounding of the galleys` drums could already be heard.

Galley "Mahmud IV", closing on "Erasmus"

Jamal al Din, beloved of the Sultan, Star of the Faith, Wonder of the Seas and High Admiral of the Al Dhin marauder fleet smiled. From what his mages told him his plan worked out, for once. Life had not been good the last years. Twice ships of his fleet had tried to stop the new ships that plied the South Sea to collect their rightful tribute. Both times the fleet had lost all ships used in these attempts to keep up the laws of the sea. Their standard prey, the ships of the Tilean city states had acquired surprising teeth. Jamal still remembered the view of the "Mehmet II" going up in flames after being shot just twice by a Tobaran galleass which had somehow gotten far better guns, so they had to be avoided as well.

The harbor they used in Saratosa was well and truly gone. While some mused of taking the riches that were now amassed there it took a lot of hashish to make one believe one might make it alive. He had found a new harbor for the fleet, yet there had been few targets for the taking.
None of that was a problem today, today the gods smiled upon him. Ships nobody who could hurt him cared too much about, his mages had come through and made a beautiful calm that left the heavily armed Galleons and fat merchantmen target for the taking instead of formidable enemies. It was great, it was a good day to be alive and it was time to loot and plunder.

He had managed to curb his enthusiasm. His instincts wanted nothing more than to close with the enemy and kill, yet if he wore out his oarsmen too early they would be unable to fight. Other captains would not care and just replace them after the battle, but his men were all fighters. They might grumble, they might ask for their share, but he had a few hundred warriors on ships that otherwise would hold only a few dozen.

And even at a reduced speed his fleet managed to close with their targets. Even in the calm it was necessary to take the galleons out first. If any of his lightly build galleys would cross their broadsides but once they would end up as so much kindling.

"Achmed, signal to Youssef and Karim-they take the starboard ship. Signal to the others: follow me."
"It shall be done Amir."
The Galleon that Jamal had picked had launched two boats who tried to turn their mothership by rowing, but Jamal had none of it. His ships might be lightly built and would founder in the weather that the Sea of Claws often held, but they were maneuverable.
His ship was the first to line up the broad stern of the Galleon at less than a hundred meters.
"Fire you dogs, fire" was hardly needed, the gun captains of the few heavy guns mounted in the "Mahmud`s" bows belched fire and smoke.
For a wonder none of them burst as they had been double loaded. At this distance none of the 8 cannonballs missed their intended target. The beautifully detailed gallery at the Gallon`s stern burst into splinters of wood and glass. Not even slowed the balls in the least while they made their way into the warships gun deck where they flew down a long undivided room filled with men and weapons. Overturning ordinance, ripping bodies apart and filling the room with splinters that drew wounds like sabers they doomed the ship together with similar salvo`s from two other galleys. Blood was running freely from the galleon`s sides when Jamal's men swarmed over the railing.

Galleon Erasmus, same time

Pieter van Ries watched his escorts being boarded with horror. Until this very day he had thought himself so lucky as his wife and two daughters had accompanied him on the trip that took him from Marienburg at the worst time possible. They had been an important support for him when times were bleak and were a joy to share the happy moments with.
Now he wished with his heart of hearts that they would have remained at Marienburg when it departed to an uncertain fate and if he could not have that they might be better off dead.
In his horror he never saw the small speck circling the battle high above in the air.

Escort Altdorf, 50 kilometers from the battle, same time

Henrik Gerber watched the merchantmen that kept a line on Altdorf`s starboard side through his binoculars. Their station keeping was still questionable after what had to be years of experience of traveling as part of convoys. He had to admit that it did not matter so much, they kept enough distance that collisions were unlikely and it was not that he would have the convoy zig-zagging to make a submarines life difficult any time soon. Still, it irked him and he was more irritable than usual as he had to wait for a situation report.
He still did only turn when the midshipman stomped on the steel deck as Imperial naval traditions demanded and addressed him.

"Compliments of Lieutenant Herz Captain. Freiherr von Herbst has reached the search area and reports that Araby pirates are capturing a group of becalmed merchantmen. He says they will most likely be overwhelmed."
"Thank you Friedrich. Give Lieutenant Herz my compliments and he should ask the Freiherr to keep station as long as possible before returning. I need acount of the enemy vessels and merchantmen before he returns. Ask the Lieutenant to mark his position via direction finding and send me the Lieutenants van Meert and Oels."
"Yes Sir."
The short break that ensued allowed "Altdorf`s" captain to make up his mind. Fortunately his personal desires and his standing orders converged as far as this situation was concerned. When the heavyset navigator and the lanky First Officer approached he took them to the bridge`s wing.
"Gentlemen, our aviation element has reported from the area indicated by the "Magic Detector." Looks like one of the local pirate fleets is boarding a couple of merchantmen. As per our orders we will stop them from doing so and try to save as many ships as possible.
Pier, I need a course for that battle immediately, we take in Altdorf at best speed. Hans, contact Captain Neuendorf, he and Schneider have to protect the convoy for the time being. Make sure to contact Saratosa station, they can keep something on the runway in case they run into any real problems.
Tell Dr. Koch he is going to have lots of customers later today."
"Aye Sir."

A bit later the escort turned from the convoy and accelerated to the 25 knots that she was capable of. Henrik Gerber stood behind the small bridge crew, watching seamen run a fairly modern ship who thought a galley a potent warship a few years back and did his best to hide his doubts when he thought about the upcoming action.
By his judgment this was the moment-too soon and the men would get exhausted, too late and they would not be ready.

Lifting the microphone from its cradle and pushing the button below the recording of a bosuns pipe was played throughout the ship.
"All hands, this is the captain. About 20 miles from here Araby pirates are trying to capture several merchantmen. In accordance with the orders given to us by the Emperor itself we will stop them. This will be our first action. Trust the training you have received, trust your officers, trust Altdorf and yourself. Do as well as you did the last months and we will do us proud.
All hands, action stations, repeat action stations."

Escort „Altdorf" , 300 Kilometers from Saratosa

The ship vibrated under Henrik Gerber`s feet as her diesel engines tried to gain the best possible speed from the small warship. By now he had donned flash gloves and mask, a steel helmet and a kapok vest that combined lifesaving with stopping splinters and miserable sweating. Everybody around him was clad the same and small talk was absent. He had stepped out from the confines of the bridge to have a personal look and match the radar plot with real life. As radar had shown he could see two groups of ships. One groups was made up from eight galleys, low to the water which made their way mostly towards his ship. The other group was composed of several galleons that made their way to the Araby shore, using a favorable wind that had appeared some 20 minutes ago. His binoculars were good enough to show the pirates in clear detail, their gaudy clothes, the varied assortment of arms and their victims.
Even without the more somber clothes the way they held their heads and looked at the pirates marked them as the crews of the captured ships.

"What do you make of it Hans?"
"Galleys are pirates, they left prize crews on the merchantmen."
"Jup, that`s how I see this as well. Let`s see if they stop and desist if we call them, otherwise this is going to be bloody."
"So do we sink the pirates and go for the merchantmen?"
"A bit difficult before they open…" Boom"-so much for that. Tell Lieutenant Schneider he may open fire on all galleys, closest ones first."
"Aye Captain."
The forecastle of the closest galleys birthed red flames inside ugly black-brown clouds. Most of the shots dropped harmlessly into the water a hundred meters or more from "Altdorf", a few managed to skip over the waves to gain extra range and one even reached the Imperial warship. Having lost most of its energy it simply bounced off a bow that was reinforced for a bit of icebreaking. By that time Gerber had stepped inside the bridge and addressed the Navigator.

"Pier, new course 090, I want some distance from these assholes."
"Yes Sir, new course 090. Helmsman, steer for new course."
The twin 105`s mounted forward hammered the bridge with their muzzle blasts before course could be changed and their projectiles sped for their targets. They needed less than a second and hit the foremost galley squarely in the bow. One shell converted the forecastle into an ugly mass of splinters, blood and gore while the second tore into the bow, ripping a hole through which a man might have stepped. The galleys hard-working rowers forced the ship forward and the sea entered that hole as quickly as it would go. When "Altdorf" maneuvered hard to starboard the next salvo went wide, one shot ditching into the sea while the other grazed the deck until it exploded at the collapsed main mast, clearing the deck of human life. It did not make any difference to the few survivors who were dragged into their watery grave by the ship.

Adalbert von Schneider waited until Altdorf had settled on her new course before reopening fire. This time the aft turret could bear on the targets as well and all four guns went to work. The galleys were lightly built from birch and fir as every kilogram of more sturdy woods would have prevented them from being efficiently rowed. The ships flexed considerably when they encountered anything but a millpond sea and lasted only a few years. The weapons that assailed them now had been scavenged from Leopard 1 tanks and had been built to kill the toughest vehicles humanity had devised for surface travel. The High Explosive rounds detonated whenever they found something substantial, be it mast, spar, cannon or equipment. When they did they threw out a shockwave that assaulted everybody in its vicinity like baseball bats that hit every square centimeter of their bodies at once and by razor sharp fragments that flew faster than the speed of sound.

They were not incendiary by design but the sheer violence the spawned nearly always caused something to burn sooner or later and the crew that could have extinguished the nascent inferno was either dead, wounded or shocked insensible. Both turrets shifted their aim after firing a dozen rounds into each ship and this part of the battle ended.
Altdorf`s "Kriegstagebuch", the log, would note that the action lasted for less than four minutes and that it left all eight galleys burning or sinking.
There was few to no cheering in the Imperial warship, the sailors who could see the pirate ships were stunned themselves by the carnage they had wrought. The ships they saw were not so different from the ones they had crewed so few years before and they were gone like nothing. This did not feel like a grand victory, this left a taste like ashes in their mouths. It would not last.

"Hans, mark the Galleons as "Target 1 through 9" according to distance. We will have to recapture them before they can haul the crews to god know there. Set course to Target 1 and assemble the boarding crew. Let`s hope these assholes strike their colors and not put up a fight."
"Aye Sir. Sir-we might have a small problem with these Marienburgers."
"What problem 1O?"
"I have been in one a couple of times Sir and they have no solid subdivisions below deck sir, just a lot of canvass walls. If we have to go down there and hunt thepirates between the crew this will be a big problem. We never received frangible ammo and we have nearly no tear gas grenades."
"I see-how very wonderful. Any suggestions?"
"Yes Sir, the old way, we give them the cold steel."
"Gets better by the minute."
"Not so bad Sir, we are used to it and the prize crews will be small. I think we can keep losses to a minimum. Anything else and we will be worse on the poor fraggers in there than the bloody pirates."
Silence

Henrik Gerbers shoulders sagged and he exhaled audibly. He had to decide between unpalatable choices. That was his job and nobody would take it from him. In the end there was only one course of action that was possible and honorable.
"Make it so 1O and Sigmar protect you."
"Bring us close Captain, we will do the rest."
"Pier, bring us a hundred meters starboard of Target 1."
"Yes Sir."
Altdorf changed course again while Hans Oels assembled his assault party on the deck behind the Bridge. Henrik could hear him while he tried to keep an eye on everything.
"I know you all go Mannan`s temple whenever you are in harbor, and all of you give a small donation to the fund that buys back the sailors that these Araby pirates take as slaves. Good thing I say. Now I suggest that we all make a very big donation to that cause and we will pay with this."
Gerber saw the sword that Oels had received upon graduation rise and he heard the men cheer. Oh god, these fools were looking forward to this.
He used the ship`s loudspeakers to get the pirates to give up, he had one of the Araby speakers of the crew to attempt the same and while he did not understand the language too well the gestures that accompanied the replies were universal enough.

Henrik Gerber stepped back into "Altdorf`s" bridge. What they were about to do was difficult and dangerous to boot, better it was done right. The Marienburg Galleon closed with every moment and as long as she could maneuver his crew could not board.
"Pier, take down the coxwains."

A bit of quietly spoken orders on the bridge and some shouting on the deck arranged Altdorf`s main fire pump to send a deluge on the huge steering wheel that dominated the Galleon`s quarter deck. The sailors were ripped from their feet and hung on anything solid for dear life. The steering wheel turned by its own when the forces pushing on the rudder went unchecked. The great sailship turned sharply, yards and sails started to flap and hugged their masts. The galleon slowed considerably and while the water cannon was in action nobody could right that.

"Helm, take us to her stern."
"To the stern, aye Sir."

Altdorf`s coxwain had learned his trade when he had to work with oars, sails and a wheel that was connected to the rudder by ropes. He now had what he considered limitless power, a rudder machine that worked for him and a bow thruster. He thought the maneuver was nearly too easy.

He brought his ship`s bow right next to the Galleon`s stern where no yards protruded to swipe Altdorf`s superstructure. Engaging the bow thruster at the right moment allowed the steel hull to push against the galleon`s wooden side. Boat hooks engaged the sail ship and secured the ships for the moments needed for the boarders to cross the railing. There was a shot from one of the hatches that went wild and a small group of pirates that ran towards the Imperial soldiers. None of them came closer to them than five meters, nobody had any scruples to use firearms as long as the sightlines were so clear.

Henrik Gerber watches as his team surrounded two hatches watched them pull them up and disappear into the holds below. This was the hard part, this was the part where he could do nothing and had to wait for his people to live or die on his orders. He waited, he pointedly walked over to van Meert to check on the position of the other ships, he walked back to the window that still showed the same picture. He phoned up doctor Koch who told him that yes, the small hospital was as ready as it was going to be and went back to the window. He looked around the bridge, checked his impulse to bite somebody`s face off and walked back to the window. And for a wonder the first sailors emerged from the hatches again.

Henrik barely avoided to rip the handle from the wireless operator`s hands and waited the few seconds more.
"Sir, Lieutenant Oels reports no dead and three wounded, only one serious. He states that he needs more orderlies for civilian wounded."
"My compliments to Lieutenant Oels, job well done. Are there any prisoners?"
"No prisoners Sir."
"Uh."

Altdorf resumed her place at the galleon`s side and his sailors carried several wounded while some other needed help with simple walking. Henrik found himself face-to-face with a haggard-looking Marienburger who stated that the crew`s survivors could bring the ship to Saratosa without too many problems.

Altdorf could not loiter, there were more pirates who tried to escape. It did not take long for the escort to close the gap with the next sailship. This time the pirates manning the steering wheel tried to ram. A ship powered by the winds is rarely a match for one powered by diesel and this was not the day this was not the day for the exception. This crew died when the ship`s lonely sniper rifle worked at less than 50 meters.

Altdorf`s captain found it marginally easier to watch his men bard a ship that held a few very bad apples among a lot of very vulnerable ones. Maybe it was the little experience gained in the last op or Oels was actually faster this time, but his crew emerged from the hatch before Gerber became really nervous. All was well and the medics helped the few wounded over the rail. Hans Oels made a point to be the last. His right forearm would probably heal in time but certainly not in the half hour Altdorf would need to chase the next ship.

Henrik Gerber had a problem. This was not Star Treck where the captain and the first officer leaves the ship at the same time. "Altdorf" was not "Victory" and he would not board a ship while having no command of his own like a latter-day Nelson. He would send either van Meert or that ensign. He was looking for the highest ranking survivor among the captured ship`s crew when he came face to face with the girl. The girl of 12 years or so with the beautiful eyes that looked from the purple circles of hematoma, eyes that were focused on something a thousand miles away and blood running down her legs.

That was the moment when he sent for his sword.