Leviathan, 600 kilometers from the Kislevite coast
The meeting room was the same Jacub General had used so many times to coordinate the millions of tasks that building a mobile base from ice, tech, and magic needed doing.
Jacub had to make a conscious effort to reign himself in these days, he was no longer the top dog in it. While practically all things technical still dropped on him, there were now others who could order him around. That the people who did so were stone-cold killers helped immensely with that.
Unfortunately, even these had no answer to the newest challenge that was before them. Wolfgang Böhler himself lined it out for them and did a creditable job of it. Sadly, his presentation did not contain a hint of a solution.
"Due to problems with customs and the German police, our 203 mm pieces were kept in Hamburg Harbor, and it is unlikely that we will receive replacements. We did receive the munitions though, but those will not fire themselves," Böhler reported the terrible news.
"And while the 105 mm guns we did receive will certainly take care of any Flugscheibe we might encounter they are not sufficient for the latest DawiZharr ironclads which block the Sea of Malice. The guns on these ships are certainly enough to damage Leviathan, so we have no chance to enter our area of operations. Ladies and gentlemen, this operation may be over before it has really begun. Any bright ideas?"
Jacub General had a sinking feeling. So much work, so much accomplishment just for nothing? Whatever pride he felt at his part of the project seemed to vanish like insubstantial fog and had the same worth.
He had no idea what prompted him to speak or what had put the totally harebrained idea in his mind.
"Err, General, I have something in mind but need to check some data before I present it."
Westpfalz-Klinikum, Kaiserslautern, Germany
The "Western Palatinate Clinic" began its life as the (Royal Bavarian) District Hospital Kaiserslautern in the late 19th Century. Back then the part of the city the hospital was located in was freshly started to be developed. Within a rather short time the hospital was fully surrounded by the growing city.
Due to this, the Hospital had only two ways to grow, up and down. While a couple of original Gründerzeit hospital buildings, having survived to this day, were still in use after several modernizations over time, the main complex was an ever-growing maze.
Since the last expansion shortly after the Weltensprung the helicopter landing pads were now residing on the fifteenth-floor level. The Westpfalz-Klinikum had been designated a „Schwerpunktkrankenhaus" (District Main hospital) well before the Weltensprung, meaning a hospital you could get practically all types of help and able to cover most of the region by itself.
Today the hospital had a capacity of nearly 2,000 beds, up from 1,350 before the Weltensprung, and was very well-known for its great Herz (coronary) department and several other well- regarded departments. Additionally, while not being a University hospital, Kaiserslautern has a cooperative understanding with Mainz University.
With such expertise and not the least since Dr. Maria Sailer was working there, Annika von Carstein´s pregnancy was mostly monitored at the Westpfalz-Klinikum, since there was no other way than to designate it a risk pregnancy.
Her Mutterpass (lit. mother passport), which was something every expecting mother in Germany got and showed everything medical done and advised during the pregnancy, was already bursting at the seams, so to speak.
Something which regularly happened in the gynecological department as well, during Annika´s visits a huge number of doctors, nurses, midwives, and students were in attendance to see what was going on.
Annika von Carstein herself showed few outward signs of her pregnancy for now. The famous expecting 'mother´s glow' was there, although slightly different. Some persons among her acquaintances and friends found it fascinating and interesting while others found it to be disconcerting.
While the glow proved this pregnancy as not too different from normal, it highlighted the differences too. Annika´s especially silken, milky skin made her even more attractive, but it underscored her as someone not entirely human.
The child was developing along with the standard expectations of size and speed, but you did not see it. Even at six months, there was only a small bump and zero weight gain. The lack of weight gain thing the doctors dismissed as they truly did not expect any.
The still rather flat abdomen was not without precedent. While rare, there were human mothers known with flat tummies until the latest stages of pregnancy. Still Maria Sailer, Gerd Schneider, and colleagues were checking it religiously.
Ultrasound pictures hinted that much of the developed baby/uterus stayed internal. There seemed to be a combination effect at work.
While watching the obvious signs of pregnancy, the doctors were more fascinated with other effects.
Annika von Carstein only experienced morning sickness only once or twice, but food cravings rather regularly. Specific types of blood and interestingly, varied normal food. Her body could only get minuscule if any nutrition from normal food. Opinions varied if this was a remnant of human biology in Vampires, just a psychological effect or if Annika really gained something from the normal food.
Brain scans showed the changes any mother went through. You can see on brain scans if a woman was a mother or had at least been pregnant to near birth. This made the docs specializing in bloodwork nearly going nuts. The results from the blood tests were frustrating to them.
Some numbers were comfortably in the normal range for a pregnant woman or woman. Others, well, as long as it did not impede mother and child, it was noted to make a baseline profile for pregnant Vampires.
Milk production had set in too. The colostrum was a bit pinkish, like strawberry milk, but mostly normal besides this. Mostly normal meaning that it was mother´s milk as it should be, but with extras.
These extras found the doctors and medics in a friendly, but fierce competition who would be the one to name this or that new component. What kept them searching and watching were lack of examples. Annika's is at present, a unique case.
No one knew if that was normal, as far it could be a normal pregnancy and what might be bad. Due to this, nobody wanted to make a mistake, everything was checked, even with the lack of previous examples.
Leviathan, 700 kilometers from Kislevite Coast
The ice carrier was big enough to have more than one mess, this one was reserved for the upper echelons of its crew. Not that it served better food than the others, but things were a bit quieter. Jacub General had taken his tray to a small lonesome table and wolfed down some amazingly good dumplings while he tried to read what newspaper articles he could download from the satellites.
He was deep into an article about the growing tensions between the Kaiserlichen and the CDU when a pale, slender hand placed a bowl of red steaming liquid next to his pad. The owner smiled mockingly when he looked up.
"You forgot your Soljanka at the counter Jacub. Looks like you need it, otherwise, you'll spout more crazy ideas."
Jacub found himself on the back foot with Valera Morosov, not that this was a rare thing. He was defensive before he even realized that Leviathan's ice mage was hardly in a position to judge his proposal.
"We don't know whether it will work or not."
"No, we will find out when we are much closer to a Chaos Dwarf battleship or two. Makes me feel so much better about it. What gave you that idea anyways?"
"Reading about the battle of Pearl Harbor."
"Don't tell me somebody actually did this."
"On a somewhat bigger scale, but yes, they did. Worked after a fashion."
"After a fashion, oh joy."
"Better than running back with our tail between our legs after all the work we put into this endeavor."
"If we survive, yes. I hear that a normal human will survive three minutes in these waters. You know better?"
"No, sounds about right. Now that we have discussed my failings, imaginary and real, how about you? You refreshed the spell on the carrier yesterday. Managed without…trouble?"
Valera lowered her gaze to the table for a moment before she lifted her head again and looked directly at the engineer.
"No, I did not use Dr. Meissen's potions and it did not really stress me out, I am past that. But Jacub, this is getting ridiculous."
"Why?"
"What did I tell you about caring in Kislev? Family and very close friends, remember?"
"Yes, you said so. Yet, we are not in Kislev, so I can care if I want to."
"And right you are. So, my cabin or yours?"
"WHAT?"
Ziggurat, ZharrNaggrund
The floor before Martina Hartig was as clean as a lot of very frightened slaves could make it, not a speck of dust to be found. The German chemist was dead sure of that as her eyes were less than a foot from said ground. It was all that filled her field of view, besides the tip of a very black, very elegant boot.
She had long given up trying to keep the whimper from her voice. It seemed to tell Jasla that she did not pad her reports again and the terrible burning on her back would have made it difficult anyway.
"Please Mistress, it is as we predicted. The flowers your son gifted to us are doing a marvelous, even miraculous job in extracting the poison from the soil, he cannot be commended enough for that. But no one could say for sure how much heavy metal was in the ground. Extracting the top layers has leeched even more from below. We need at least two more plantings before the soil will be safe for DawiZharr, even more for you mistress."
Jasla was not loud, indeed Martina feared she might not hear something in her position. If the Druchii mage would think herself ignored the consequences would be too terrible to think about.
"The German ambassador has stated that food deliveries might slow down. He said it would be due to the weather, but we both know what the Reiksbund can do if they set their minds on it. They want to remind us of their hand on our throats. Do you believe I enjoy the feeling of being choked Martina? Do you believe I would lower myself to your level?"
"No, Mistress, never."
"Very well then. Promise me that we will have enough of this fertilizer when the soil is finally cleansed."
"Yes milady, we have. You can see it even from here, we will have enough."
"Better be, morsel, better be. If you think I was a bit rough with you the last time you failed, you would think it as a massage for what I would have to do if I have to excuse your failing in front of Lord Astragoth or my son. I might have to get creative."
Martina Hartig was too frightened to formulate a coherent reply, her whimpers were enough for Jasla.
Imperial Navy Headquarters, Salzenmund, Empire
The office had rough granite walls, as it was inside the old donjon. Several spots were slightly lighter, as its current owner had the tapestries removed. They had depicted the great victories of the Imperial Navy and had given way to a couple of filing cabinets. The desk was a massive, carved piece, the chairs old Germany. The door would have stopped a sword stroke or two and was presently closed as Henrik Gerber was engaged in a session of career advice, aka an ass-chewing. Given that he wanted to help his friend and former first officer saving face was as important as getting the message across.
"Hans, you are moping worse than a love-sick teenager. Yes, you have lost good men, that is hard for everybody. No, you are not guilty of anything there, as I and a dozen other people have told you. Which include the Emperor and the court which put all of your actions under a bloody microscope. What makes you think you know better than them?"
Hans Oels' voice managed to be weak and bitter at the same time.
"They were not there; they did not bury them…"
"No, they did not, and neither did they fight a submarine with guided torpedoes. We still do not know how it ended up here, but the best guess is you butted heads with a Daphne-Class with an experienced crew. In a ship that had only token antisubmarine armament and a crew with next to no training for that. Hans, you are both good and lucky to have survived this scrap. Bringing the vast majority of the crew, and the ship home was a bonus. I could not have done better, so get over it."
"But…"
"For now, I'll do the talking and you do the listening Hans, thank you very much. No, taking Altdorf away from you was not a punishment. It is the reality of the new Imperial Navy that we are making. You are not on half-pay and you do not have to beg for a new command every so often. In the old Imperial Navy, there were the ship's crews, some REMFs in the admiralty, and a lot of civilian contractors. Guess what, these days are over, we need a lot more people ashore and they better be guys and gals who have seen the Kraken. There is no way you will have sea-going postings all of the time, there will always be jobs here in Salzenmund. And no, that does not mean you get a pail, a shoveland head for the beach, we have real work to do. Or do you believe I do nothing all day? Take a look and I actually think you'll like your new job. If you really believe you have some penance to do, this is as good a place as any to have at it. And if you do as well as I think you will there is this FAC flotilla that will need a commodore in a few years…"
Hans Oels needed two tries until his voice was firm again.
"I will do my best where ever the Navy needs me. So, what is it what you will have me do?"
Henrik Gerber had been right, Hans Oels liked his new assignment and dug in. The Imperial Navy had decided that it needed its own Damage Control school, it fell to Oels to establish it. He set its tone for quite some time and the students took a certain pride in having survived the course. A mastery badge was as coveted in all navies in the Reiksbund as it was hard to achieve.
Pi: 3.149
The enemy had beaks, claws, tentacles, and scales, often at the same time. They had kaleidoscope eyes, one, three, or five, only a few just two. All were tunnels into madness or realities all too sane. Some did not run, not all of their feet touched the ground while doing so. Many slithered like snakes and some just came closer without any visible means of propulsion. The gaps in what armor they wore often shone with multicolored light and when their chests were opened, they rarely held recognizable organs. Nearly all of them struggled with the barbed wire belt that protected Malus Darkblade's forces, they all fell to bullets and shrapnel as well as their more mundane comrades.
Malus Darkblade had seen more warriors of Chaos during this campaign season than in all of his life before. His army had killed more of them than he had ever heard of before, even in the most outlandish of sagas. And while the killing went on, they had become more and more..strange. He suspected that these were from the deepest depths of the Chaos Desert. Their looks said so, many did not leave a corpse but vanished when they stopped moving. They seemed to have less unit cohesion and developed tactics, but made up for that in fearlessness and sheer ferocity. In the old days that would have allowed them to carry the day, now it entangled them in barbed wire that amputated their misshapen limbs and made them better targets for the machine guns.
And the Druchii warriors who wielded those guns were past experts at killing. They had outgrown their spears and crossbows, they embraced rifles, machine guns, flame throwers, and mortars with all their murdering hearts. No longer did the rifle regiments fire in neat salvos, the ragged sound of rifle fire was testimony to the rarest of battlefield achievements, well-aimed shots. They might be the few and the proud, but as long as they defended their lair they would not be beaten.
Malus Darkblade would have been far happier if they would not have fired rounds that had arrived two days before. He would have retreated long before, but the terrain opened up behind his current position. He could retreat further along his lifeline that was the railroad, but his flanks would no longer be protected by the mountains that surrounded him now. He would be surrounded and cut off in moments. Normally Chaos creatures such as the ones that bled multicolored blood into the snow before him would never last so far away from the Chaos Desert, something was stabilizing them. And unless he found and eliminated what- or whoever that was he had to defend or die in place.
He could just hope that the Witch-King would read Tevil Magestalker's report soon and finally reign that fat German in. Then he would gain the tools to do what needed to be done.
