AN: Credits to Vasilisa, perfect_shade, Readhead and geo_113, for feedback and revisions. A large portion of this chapter was originally drafted by Vasilisa.

Also as a reminder, image links don't work on which would have been helpful for understanding the later scenes in this chapter. I recommend looking at the Spacebattle's story post to see the images.

1953 August 4th, White House, Washington D.C.:

There was a rapid series of knocks on the door.

"Come in," President Taft barked, looking up from his papers to glare at the aide stepping into the Oval Office while the seated Secretary of State Moores Dullas turned his head away from Taft. "I said I wasn't to be disturbed, Lewis! Well, what is it? Is something on fire?"

"Actually, uh, yes," Lewis nervously stammered.

Taft sighed deeply and motioned for the aide to get on with it.

"There has been a "special incident" at the HL-1 power plant…" Lewis trailed off as Taft's glare intensified.

"Don't sugarcoat it, man, spit it out!"

The aide gulped and looked down at his notes.

"Yes sir. Reactor no. 4 exploded. The containment shell is holding so far, but our men on the scene have no idea about how to stop the runaway nuclear fission process. It's still generating heat, enough that water is proving an insufficient coolant. The scientists are concerned that what is left of the reactor may melt through the concrete pad, and if it keeps going, eventually reach groundwater. If that happens, well…" The aide gulped. "There is talk of massive contamination, or even a chance that the reactor's heat will trigger a steam explosion. If that happens, the entire facility could go up, and who knows how much of the contamination will go airborne?"

"I figured something had to go wrong with our nuclear program sooner or later. The tests in New Mexica have been progressing too smoothly… We must have used up our surplus of luck," Dullas muttered.

Clenching his hands, President Taft turned to Dullas. "You will contact the Germanian nuclear industry and request their advice on how to handle an exploded, burning reactor. And the following cleanup process. Pay them whatever they want, but do not disclose that it was a nuclear reactor incident. Otherwise they'll learn we're working on a domestic reactor behind their backs. Also, ask to license their next generation reactor technology."

Dullas nodded and sprinted out of the Oval Office.

1953 August 5th, Berun Gentlemen's Club:

"Fraulein, with the greatest of respect, I can't possibly accede," the concierge mopped his sweaty forehead. Nothing in his training had prepared him for such an unprecedented crisis. "I'm afraid women are absolutely forbidden! There hasn't been a single woman allowed inside the Club in all 129 years of its existence –"

"How fascinating," Visha said breezily. "Sadly my time is limited so I can't stick around to chat about history with you. Good evening."

With that she strode up to the two burly doormen and slipped past them, nimble as a cat, disappearing through the half-open doors. One started to reach out an arm as thick as a tree-trunk in a half-hearted attempt to bar her, before sighing in embarrassment and giving it up. Visha's two secretaries smirked and trotted in after her.

The concierge gave Lergen an aggrieved and helpless look. The Defence Minister ignored the wordless cry and merely shrugged.

"Don't look at me like that, Herr Becker, as if there was something I could do about this. Just be glad it's only the President's advisor here tonight. Luckily for you, the President is busy with other matters."

And with that he strolled into the Club himself. In the distance he could see Rickover holding court, surrounded by a tableful of younger admirers. The man was in the middle of some diatribe, gesticulating wildly to make his point, to the approving nods of the other officers. In the corner of the room Allen Turing listened to the heated conversation with polite amusement. At another table, Dr Schugel, Dr Fischer and a gaggle of other scientists he didn't recognize clumped together, swigging steinfulls of beer and singing a raucous song about the exploits of some hausfrau from Württemberg. He saw a glimpse of Alfred and René, Zettour's grandchildren, at a table in a deep discussion with a curious mix of officers, scientists, and engineers. Probably at their usual discussions about satellites and outer space.

Finally Lergen reached his destination, and dropped into his favorite high-backed chair beside General Ugar. The waiters knew what to do, and quickly set out on the table a box of cigars and two crystal glasses filled with his preferred brandy. Lergen made sure he remained in the line of sight of the President's advisor, just in case her little chat turned ugly and he needed to head over to provide support.

"Long time no see, Erich," grunted Ugar, putting down his newspaper. "How are things in the top echelons these days?"

"You know how it goes, Maximilian, another day another gray hair," Lergen sighed. "My counterparts in South Bharat have just informed me they've been contacted by the Brasilian government for low bid military procurement. Prost!" The two men clinked their glasses together and sipped the fiery liquid.

"Starting to get concerned about the New Granadian buildup right on their northern border, are they?"

"It's not just that. A lot of South American countries are nervous that an outbreak of hostilities between Brasilia and New Granada could result in them being dragged into the conflict. Especially with pre-existing territorial disputes and the valuable resources in the disputed land, including oil."

"So we're back to the crisis in Suez again. Everything keeps coming back to that, doesn't it?" Ugar observed. "Unfortunately it doesn't seem anyone will have a reprieve anytime soon. The Middle East keeps lurching from bad to worse."

"We could happily sit back and watch Albion and Francois burn the whole house to the ground, with themselves in it, if it weren't for all that oil," Lergen grumbled. "The real problem is an acute shortage of OZEV personnel. We're stretched thin as it is, and every time the Turkmens or Qajarians make another move, the region gets more unstable. Which then requires more of our forces to maintain an appropriate force readiness. Troops we simply can't spare from Eastern Europe or East Asia."

"Start calling up retired veterans?" suggested Ugar.

"I'd rather avoid any whiff of conscription unless an actual shooting war breaks out for us," Lergen objected mildly. "I don't want to set a precedent for the armed services intervening in economic disputes, or else that's all we'd ever do! Not to mention that every OZEV citizen called up is one less citizen working in a factory or hospital, laying power-lines or building railways. Our economy is tight enough as is, and doesn't need the additional economic loss that it would represent."

Ugar laughed, "Economic considerations? I see spending all that time with the President is rubbing off on you."

Lergen didn't deign to reply, instead taking a deep puff of his cigar.

"I hate to mention it," Ugar said, "but I think your best option would be to replicate the Francois Foreign Legion. Hire a few retired officers to put together a unit entirely made up of non-OZEV citizens. They can employ former veterans from North and South America, for example. Or people who just like to fight. Or need the money. The world never has any shortage of those types. Train them up a bit then throw them at the Turkmens, Qajaris, North Bharatese, Chinese, or whoever."

Lergen scowled. No soldier liked the idea of diverting scarce military resources and funding to outsiders, especially not a soldier who would likely be spent with the unenviable task of defending the requisite budget allocations.

"I know how you feel," Ugar defended, "but it's the only way if you want to avoid OZEV casualties and the political fallout that would cause. Much cheaper than standard soldiers too; no need to pay out military pensions, just include a lump-sum payment to next-of-kin in the event of death in their contracts."

"I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this," Lergen sighed. In the corner of his eye he noticed that the President's advisor and her secretaries had finally spotted their quarry and were moving in for the kill.

Visha strolled through the richly-furnished room without a care in the world, blithely indifferent to the bewildered or scandalized glances the Club members were shooting at her. Eventually she approached a particular grand oaken table beside a roaring fire and perched on top. The conversation fell silent. She said nothing for a while, merely observing each man in turn, while the two secretaries discreetly set up a privacy spell around the table.

Finally one of the men couldn't take the oppressive silence any longer. "Is there something we can help you with?"

"As a matter of fact there is," Visha smiled harmlessly.

"Ahem, if you're looking for President Ehrlich, he's at his vacation home in Wannsee …"

"Yes, I'm well aware. But I'm not here to see Anton. If I'm not mistaken, you nine gentlemen should represent a quorum of the Volksauto board of directors, am I right?"

The mood plummeted.

"I know what you're going to say, Frau Serebryakov," said Johan Schneider coldly. "So don't bother wasting your time. The government may not be pleased with our decisions, but I assure you that everything Volksauto has done is perfectly legal!"

"I don't doubt it, nobody's accusing you fine gentlemen of any sort of impropriety, I assure you." Her tone was so cold, that if butter was in her mouth it wouldn't melt.

"Then there's no point in any further discussion! The board's decision is final," snapped Rudolf Heinemann, "and there's nothing you or your President can do about it!"

"Ah, but that's where you are wrong, Herr Heinemann." Visha crossed her legs casually. She withdrew a sheet of paper from her jacket pocket and tossed it onto the table. "Some light reading for you. It's a copy of a draft decree that's currently circulating. Rumour has it the Chancellor's giving it some very serious consideration. I thought you gentlemen may have some interest in sneaking a preview."

There were a series of light gasps. The august board members stared in horror at the contents of the lone document.

"You… you can't do this to Volksauto!" Hans Schneider, the chief financial officer exclaimed, looking paler than usual. "This… this is a complete violation of free market principles! The very same principles Degurechaff and you yourself have been championing for years!"

"There's no way you can get away with it! This isn't the military, you can't just waltz into the BGC and start threatening people left and right!" blustered Heinemann. "We're not the sort of men that can be pushed around! Do you know who we are?"

"Know? Of course I know who you are," Visha cocked her head. "It would hardly be worth my time and effort if you weren't. Let me explain the situation for you, just so we're all on the same page here. You're right, Herr Schneider, the President and myself have made it a point to ensure a free market as much as possible. If private companies want to cozy up to foreign governments for profit, that's fine. If private companies want to lobby on behalf of their legitimate business interests, that's fine."

Her gentle visage hardened. "But when private companies decide to support foreign states against the core interests of the Fatherland, while the Fatherland is in the midst of a national crisis… Well now, gentlemen, that's when we start to have a problem. After all, the growth of Germania's industry cannot be at the expense of Germania itself now, can it?" She paused to let her words sink in. "Well, I've said all that I can say on the matter; I'll leave what must be done next in your capable hands. I assume that titans of industry such as yourselves have a much better grasp of Volksauto's best interests than a simple politician such as myself. Prost!"

Visha picked up an untouched glass of red wine and emptied it in one fluid movement. "Have a good evening, gentlemen." Visha collected the paper and sauntered away, her secretaries in tow.

Before she could leave the Club though, a well dressed businessman stood in her way.

"And you are?" Visha raised an eyebrow.

"Alfred Krup," The man nodded, then motioned for them to step aside into a private booth. "There are some… interesting developments in the Unified States that I believe should come to our President's attention. I would recommend we have some privacy."

"Should we discuss this over a glass of wine?" Visha winked as her secretaries spun up their privacy spells.

"That won't be necessary, I won't hold up your busy schedule," Krup smiled, then donned a look of concern as he began detailing the situation. "We, Mannesmann and other suppliers of nuclear reactor components have received some oddly specific requests for information in return for handsome payments. Such as 'reactor accident' training drills and 'radioactive contamination cleanup' procedures, supplies and equipment. The Americans refused to share any details beyond asking that the deliveries be expedited, as the situation was time critical. They also ordered more reactor components, a lot more, and have expressed interest in licensing next generation nuclear reactor technology."

"Very curious…" Visha nodded pensively.

"What should our next steps be, Frau Serebryakov?"

"Meet their requests openly, but keep trying to pry more details out of the Americans on the grounds of tailoring the information and products that they need," Visha replied, thumping her fist down onto her hand, further punctuating her decision with a firm nod. "As for licensing next generation reactors… I'll need to discuss that matter with the President. Thank you for your help, Herr Krup."

As Visha walked past Krup, she glanced back at the stunned Volksauto executives, and quickly kissed him on his cheek before heading to the Club's exit.

1953 August 9th, somewhere in Aegyptus:

Debizet watched through the binoculars at the traffic in the city, then sent a voice spell.

"Intercept them now."

"On it," Foccart replied back.

'They think they can win this through car bombs, suicide bombings, improvised explosives and disemboweling of captured soldiers. We can play that game until they realize resistance is futile or everyone who wants to resist is dead or imprisoned, whichever comes first. Starting with their resistance leader that the Albish should have shot dead in the ocean.' Debizet scoffed as he watched Foccart's truck work its way through the traffic until it was next to the two vehicles.

And when those two vehicles stopped due to traffic at the intersection, Foccart shouted a phrase in rough Qajarian and rocketed out of the truck's cab with his flight spell crudely disguised as a Qajarian mage. Then the truck detonated in the busy street.

Foccart then flew back into the cloud of dust and smoke, then reported over the screams and wails of the still-alive people that were caught in the blast, "Nasser has been eliminated."

'The end of that annoying man who thought he could get away with holding public speeches.'

"Return to base," Debizet calmly replied as he sent out a voice spell to the command informing them of the status. It was rather easy to keep his voice calm when there was so little to celebrate. After all, successful mission or not, it didn't matter so long as the Aegyptian insurgents continued to pour from the sand like desert fleas while the government back at home busied itself with sitting on its hands. Then there were the damn Idoan radio broadcast ships that the Frankish military refused to authorize any operations against, going so far as to threaten the SCE should any "unfortunate accidents" befall the seaborne irritants.

"We need your team over at regrouping center B21. The insurgents are attempting a breakout, and our spotter has identified Nasser in attendance. He appears to be present with the intention of leading the attack. We can't allow the zone's inhabitants to escape through the opening that the attack is trying to create." a voice spell from his command came back.

"Wasn't the B-series zones the responsibility of the Ispangish forces?"

"The last radio transmissions heard from B21's command was a request to napalm the coordinates of where their patrol forces were ambushed, as it was presumed all of them were overrun. And their commander was screaming in the background about his staff being blind and demanded to know the status of his garrison."

"Those damn useless ... wait a minute, did you just say Nasser was physically present? Not possible, we just killed him," Debizet was dumbfounded. Then a realization hit him.

"He's using doubles!"

1953 August 10th, Hambrück shipyards, Germania:

I followed Admiral Gerhard up to the gates of the drydock, Visha, Lergen and General Ugar in tow. Visha and I were layered with illusion spells masking us as two nondescript male adjutants, a disguise I hoped would keep any onlookers from realizing we were in this city. I could have picked a different tour date, but the suspicious US nuclear situation and the Americans' sudden interest in our next generation reactor technology prompted me to see firsthand how our new reactors were going.

In the distance, I could see a fleet of container ships and their escort of destroyers leave Hambrück Port and begin their journey down the Elbe River towards the sea. Another convoy delivering military goods to New Granada.

"Granadian and American tax-dollars at work," I whispered in Visha's ear, nodding towards the convoy. "The Granadian president is probably single-handedly responsible for keeping half the city's population out of the unemployment lines. Perhaps the locals should build a statue in his honour; they can put it right next to the Bismarck Monument." I nodded towards the 15-meter statue of the former Chancellor, who glowered down upon us all.

Visha giggled and shushed me as our party passed through the checkpoint. Before us stood two submarine hulls, with one of them noticeably longer than the other one. This drydock looked like it was meant for large merchant ships rather than the comparatively smaller submarines. Even when they still dwarfed the rocket boat I had played with so long ago.

"Construction of the two nuclear submarines had some delays, but they should be ready for their trials by the start of next year. And once we learn what works and doesn't work, our ballistic missile submarine constructions will be next," Admiral Gerhard explained.

"Just out of curiosity, why is a large ship drydock being used for the two submarines instead of using the submarine drydocks?" I looked over the edge and watched a crane lift a heavy machine into a submarine's hull. The gear was almost comically oversized for the construction happening in the dock. To the point where it seemed like a waste to assign this much space and deal with the logistical difficulty of two hulls in a dock that could only be flooded if both were finished.

"We determined refurbishing and modernizing the old submarine drydocks was not workable, and instead temporarily utilized ship drydocks. Meanwhile we are demolishing the old submarine drydocks to replace them with proper nuclear submarine drydocks," Gerhard flipped through his notes.

"Was that part of the submarine budget?" Lergen looked at Gerhard, his face a mix of off-balance confusion and cool calculation.

"The two nuclear submarines are each larger than the old diesel-propelled model, especially the molten salt reactor powered one with its doubled steam turbines, gearboxes and propellers. While the ballistic missile submarines are early in their design phase and awaiting confirmation of which reactor technology to use and the requirements for launching ballistic missiles, they are projected to be up to twice the size of what we are building right now and thus completely dwarfing the diesel submarines. Fortunately for us, and unfortunately for the economy, the sudden downturn of the maritime shipping industry resulted in drydocks being cleared for us to use."

The decay of the submarine infrastructure was hardly surprising; the last time submarines had been deployed in significant numbers was back during the Empire's final years. After the Treaty of Parisee and the collapse of the old Imperial state, Germania reborn had little use for submarines and the attendant infrastructure had fallen into disuse. A state it had remained in during the early years of my administration, that cursed rocket powered submarine aside. Now, we had set our hands on building submarines that would overshadow their now-ancient predecessors in every specific, from size to speed.

I also made a mental note about the implied trouble the Germanian shipbuilding industry was encountering. I recalled other players were pushing in those markets and I could not allow such a vital industry for a merchant nation fall into ruin. Not when Germania needs a global naval force, and that is only possible with a strong naval infrastructure and shipbuilding industry. I wracked my brain for dimly remembered memories of how South Korea had become a giant in the shipbuilding industry almost overnight but had to focus on the current topic when Visha spoke up. I made sure to jot down a quick note to come back to this later before paying my wife her full attention. Another problem on my plate courtesy of the worldwide shitshow.

"What are those next to that crane?" Visha pointed at the large objects across the drydock from us that are covered in tarps, with one of them having their tarp removed by the shipyard workers and the attachment lines prepared.

"The reactor room's components, steam turbines and gearboxes. The reactor installations were finished several days ago." Gerhard motioned at the tarps.

"Is that Captain Rickover there? It looks like he's having a lively conversation with someone," Visha then spun up an optical spell. "Ooh, yes, quite lively indeed. In fact, I'd go so far as to call it an angry confrontation."

"Almost all of the industry partners' complaints have specifically mentioned him," the admiral admitted. "He had been a ruthless enforcer of standards, personally inspecting every single reactor and engine room related components."

"Both the naval and nuclear industry partners." General Ugar tersely added, before he strode briskly towards Rickover.

"Now I'm curious," I said, turning to the rest of the party, "what were some of the good captain's complaints?"

"I'll explain it." Lergen deeply sighed. "Those complaints went straight to me from our industry partners. That's how mad they were. Apparently, they felt the navy wasn't doing enough to keep him 'under control'. Captain Rickover accused the shipyard of putting together the submarine hulls with substandard welds. Turns out he completed a welding course shortly before the submarine construction started, so it didn't go over well when the shipyard management told him he was unqualified to judge the weld quality. He hired the technical school he attended and inspectors from two specialized steel fabricators to judge the submarine weld quality. When the verdicts came out as mixed with one expressing concerns of how the welds would hold up in very deep, turbulent Arctic waters and high underwater speed, he demanded that the shipyards have their employees be onboard the submarines during the depth testing, and he would also be onboard, so if the welds fail underwater, then they will all die together. He also coincidentally announced a major milestone of the two prototype pressurized water and molten salt reactors achieving over 7,000 hours of operation with zero reactor accidents or major safety incidents to silence some of the criticism."

Telling your superiors things they don't want to hear, and then reminding them of how useful you are… I'm glad I'm not Rickover's direct boss. Although it is good to hear that we can safely proceed with licensing one of the reactor technologies to the Americans, and if they cause it to blow up, we have mountains of evidence showing that it's them who screwed up.

"How deep are the submarines supposed to go?" I asked out of curiosity.

"About 250 meters max operating depth, 310 meters max design depth. Past that and the vessel risks crushing due to pressure. Our old diesel submarines normally would be crushed below 230 meters," Gerhard replied.

"250 meters underwater…" I ran mental math. "It would be very difficult for the CSR to deploy their own mages at such depths, harder than trying to fly above 10,000 meters altitude. Until they start optimizing their mages for marine operations, I suppose. Or… benthic? Regardless, we'll just have to design deeper and faster submarines if it comes to that point, or perhaps direct development with an eye towards stealth…"

"Diesel submarines from the CSR and other countries would be thoroughly outclassed in underwater endurance, speed and dive depth. Our submarines would only need to come up to the surface for food resupply with oxygen and freshwater generation being powered by the reactor. Depending on the power usage, refueling would only need to be done every several months in short durations for the molten salt reactor and every few years in long durations for the pressurized water reactor," Gerhard proudly boasted before continuing. "The molten salt reactor powered submarine may be able to outrun some destroyers and torpedo models with its greater reactor power without needing to significantly scale up the size and weight of the reactor like the pressurized water technology, making the submarine difficult to hunt down even if detected."

Gerhard's voice then shifted to a tone of caution. "However, the parallel naval reactor projects, the underwater missile launch capability research and drydock constructions did consume much of the submarine budget, leaving little room for other improvements. And we can't expand the budget for the submarines without impacting our destroyer constructions, ship launched anti-air and anti-ship missiles for the destroyers, radar, sonar and magic detector improvements, aircraft carrier design, naval jet aircraft designs, and current maintenance and operational needs."

"You're requesting additional funding to make our submarines harder to detect?" I raised my eyebrow.

"Yes," he shifted uncomfortably.

"Present a plan to Minister Lergen."

"Thank you. It will be done." Gerhard nodded, then he looked over again at the captain across the drydock, who was now arguing with General Ugar. "Speaking of Captain Rickover, there was controversy because his drama caused a week-long delay, and he had hired those inspectors with his personal money instead of going through proper channels. The Admiralty was not happy when he charged the navy for reimbursements."

"What does his career track look like?" I turned away from watching the crane operation to look at Gerhard.

Gerhard winced as if he was in pain. "The Navy has been adamant about not allowing him to be promoted at all. Especially with how he made some enemies with how he aggressively gained full oversight of the submarine constructions instead of just focusing on the reactor and engine room, which was also previously met with skepticism. Their official reasoning is that he's a direct lateral transfer from a foreign navy. But we both know the actual reasons."

"Have there also been disagreements between Captain Rickover and General Ugar?"

Gerhard hesitated until Lergen waved him off and took his place.

"There is the phrase, 'too many cooks in a kitchen spoils the soup'." Lergen nodded as Gerhard moved himself well away from our conversation. "Ugar wanted oversight of the naval reactors as an extension of his authority over military nuclear matters, which directly brought him into conflict with Rickover. The army predictably backed Ugar, while Rickover's only hand was his ability to safely deliver results. Gerhard already explained the situation of how the navy feels about Rickover."

I figured Lergen would have been closely tracking all of the senior military officers and their feuds.

"What's your personal opinion of Rickover?"

Lergen had a touch of apprehension. "The success or failure of the submarines' propulsion system will likely determine his stay in the Germanian military."

"And if the submarines are successful?"

Lergen stood silent, a flat look on his face.

"I think it would be appropriate to let him have oversight on the aircraft carrier's nuclear propulsion design as the aircraft carrier will be using an upscaled version of one of the submarine's reactor designs," I smiled.

"You would sign off on that?" Lergen looked shocked.

"Of course," I brightened my smile." It would be unfair of us to not reward him if he succeeds."

If my Admiralty has an issue with that, then it's up to the public to back a viable political opposition to undo my "meddling".

1953 August 10th, north of the Caspian Sea, next to the Ural River:

"At least Kang's forces will be out of the fight for a while," Yao sighed as he searched for a silver lining.

"That was only their vanguard we broke," Li replied, in no mood to be cheered. "Their reinforcements will quickly replace them as long as we fight next to the railroads. One more victory like this and we will run out of men before they do."

Looking over his exhausted army as they retreated back across the bridges over the Ural River, Li swallowed the urge to spit his disgust. No need to dismay any soldier who happened to be glancing his direction. "Bastards stalled us just long enough for their scouts to destroy the southern train tracks ahead. There are no other ways to quickly travel to Afghanistan, not with those tracks so thoroughly ruined. Those dogs accomplished the only thing they needed to stop us dead in our tracks, even as we routed their vanguard. We can't push east without running into the rest of Kang's forces, who are certainly all speeding down the tracks toward us. We can't go back west without running directly into the Rus. Already our rear forces are conducting rearguard actions against them in Volgograd; any further contact and we will be too thoroughly enmeshed to contemplate escape."

Yao stood silently as Li paced back and forth.

"Get me the map of the entire region," Li demanded, turning to point at Yao, who immediately opened one of the boxes and sifted through its content before retrieving and unfolding a map.

Li stared intently at the map for a few minutes, then laughed.

"Do we have any Caucasia experts or at least translators for the region? All I know is that it's been a long running warzone and there are reasons why the Rus gave up on trying to pacify the region."

Yao shook his head no. "We only have people that know the Rus language… but we could try to find Caucasian locals and use our Rus translators for us to open up talks with them."

"Excellent," Li grinned. "We need to get in contact with the warlords in Caucasia to negotiate a safe passage."

"Wait, we're going to march into that chaos?!"

"We'll just have to hope that the Caucasians are receptive to being paid off by supplies and equipment that we won't be able to bring with us during our journey south as we won't have trains to haul the heavy cargo, and that they hate the Rus more than us."

1953 August 11th, several kilometers east of the bridges crossing the Ural River:

"First ones in, last ones out. Typical," Fire groaned.

"A simple objective of delaying Kang's forces long enough for our demolition teams to do their job and thoroughly destroy the bridges and train tracks, while our mine layers plant the tactically acquired mines along the river banks," Shusheng yawned while glancing at the other lower powered mages who were operating as DShK machine gun crews. "Simplicity itself. And it's the simple objectives that always end up being hard."

"Why are they planting mines anyways?"

"Probably to delay Kang's forces from building floating bridges or sailing across."

Shusheng felt the sensation of a magic scan. "Did you feel that too?"

"Yes," Fire frowned. "Give me your magic information, and tell the other mages to also do the same, so I can do a crossfix."

A moment passed and Fire spoke again, voice full of confusion. "Huh. Whatever it is, it's moving fast. Over 750 kilometers per hour. Coming this way too."

"Check your weapons!" Shusheng announced to everyone as Fire racked his KPV machine gun. "I'm firing up my scanning spell."

And that was when he froze upon what he was seeing. Two large blobs that were veering away from them, and four small blobs that were now zooming towards their position. And then suddenly the area lit up with magic signatures rising out of the ground. Three mage mage battalions against his single battalion.

'Of course we should have expected their mages to get into their hidden mountain positions first before their fast movers showed up.'

"Fire! We need to shoot those things! There's some sort of an encrypted magic spell being sent to them and their courses are changing after every spell broadcast." He shouted while lining up his DShK to one of the fast moving small blobs.

"Their battalions also have DShKs with them!" One of the mage gun crews shouted as the arcs of heavy bullets from enemy mages began detonating around them.

Mage attacks and missiles combined together… So this is modern aerial combat.

"I got a targeting solution…" Fire opened fire with his machine gun, and soon the magic casted heavy bullets detonated off in the distance. "Damn those missiles are constantly maneuvering around."

The last two missiles exploded less than 150 meters away, pinging their shields with shrapnel among the hail of bullets from the enemy mages.

"Magic casted missile explosives… They got mages in those fast moving planes." Shusheng frowned as he shifted his aim at the approaching enemy mages.

"At least it doesn't look like there will be more aircraft coming. Now we have to deal with three enemy battalions," Fire grunted.

'This is going to be a slaughter. And I can't push myself too hard or I'll be out for a few days again, when we're bound to have more battles soon after this.' Shusheng gritted his teeth as he tore up an enemy DShK crew with a steady stream of bullets before switching targets, while one of his crews next to him was blown apart. Ragdolls of bodies flying every which way.

"We're taking losses here. How much more time do you need?" Shusheng sent a radio message to command, then frowned when the reply from Yao told him they patched up a squadron of aircraft for deployment and had a new radio frequency to talk to the pilots, but needed to hold out for another 6 minutes for the aircraft to arrive, and another 30 minutes to complete the demolition and mining work.

"We have to try something different." Shusheng sent a voice spell to Fire.

"I can see that. They're concentrating their fire on me!" Fire shouted back as he struggled to maneuver away from the inbound bullets while continuing to fire his heavy weapon.

"I'm putting down smokescreens for us to fall back," Shusheng fired a stream of bullets casted with the dense, glittering magic smoke to temporarily block both visual and magic detector.

While the mages fell back, the enemy mages suddenly charged through the smoke and resumed firing.

'That plan didn't really work, and I'm not going to charge into melee against them when there are that many of them.' He thought to himself, then an idea hit him.

"What weapons do you have?" He sent a radio call to the pilots.

"Air to air rockets. The standard loadouts. Why?" One of the pilots asked with a perplexed tone.

"Fire your rockets a few seconds after we set up a smokescreen," Shusheng smiled. "Trust me."

"Acknowledged."

When the aircraft squadron arrived within range to fire their rockets, he sent a voice spell to everyone to launch a massive smokescreen. Fire and the few remaining mages dutifully complied and the smokescreen was completed.

The rockets streaked from the nine aircraft toward the smokescreen, and the enemy mages emerged through the smoke right as the rockets were able to crash into them.

"Is this what they call a combined arms plan?" Shusheng radioed the pilots as the corpses of the enemy mages came tumbling out of the sky from the rocket explosions, while the survivors were routed.

He didn't get an answer from the pilot when a Rus jet aircraft suddenly struck from the above clouds, dived down on the unaware propeller aircraft formation to strafe them with rockets and cannon fire to score four kills, and screamed back up into the clouds before the mage crews could redirect their machine guns or the propeller aircraft reposition themselves to engage the new threat.

AN:

Context on the Dullas brothers, where Foster Dullas is an ambassador (as mentioned in "Chapter 40, Madness is like gravity") and Moores Dullas is the secretary of state: wiki/John_Foster_Dulles

His maternal grandfather, John W. Foster, had been Secretary of State under Benjamin Harrison, and doted on Dulles and his brother Allen, who would later become the director of the Central Intelligence Agency.

wiki/1954_Guatemalan_coup_d

Several figures in Eisenhower's administration, including Secretary of State John Foster Dulles and his brother CIA Director Allen Dulles, had close ties to the United Fruit Company. The Dulles brothers had been partners of the law firm of Sullivan & Cromwell, and in that capacity had arranged several deals for the UFC.

Context for the "regrouping centers" and the war crimes: wiki/Algerian_War#Atrocities_and_war_crimes

During the war, the French military relocated entire villages to centres de regroupements (regrouping centres), which were built for forcibly displaced civilian populations, in order to separate them from FLN guerilla combatants. Over 8,000 villages were destroyed.[42][43][128] Over 2 million Algerians were resettled in regrouping internment camps, with some being forced into labour.[28][129]

…

Some other atrocities were committed by the more militant sections of the FLN as collective reprissals against the pieds-noirs population in response to French repression. The more extreme cases occurred in places like the town of Al-Halia, where some European residents were raped and disemboweled,

References to the nuclear submarine topic:

wiki/USS_Nautilus_(SSN-571)

/common-questions-about-uss-nautilus-ssn-571/#9b2e6c4d0668722e1

NAUTILUS could dive to 700 feet (213 meters).

wiki/Type_VII_submarine#Specifications

I'm assuming Germania's diesel submarines are comparable to the VIIA class submarines, thus having a maximum operating depth of 220 meters (720 feet) and crush depth of below 230 meters (750 feet)

wiki/Metre_sea_water

One standard metre sea water equals:

- 10.0 kPa, in SI units

- 0.0986923 atm

- 1.45038 psi

wiki/Deep_diving#Ultra-deep_diving

Only twenty-five people are known to have ever dived to at least 240 metres (790 ft) on self-contained breathing apparatus recreationally.[19][26][nb 4][nb 5] The "Holy Grail" of deep scuba diving was the 300 metres (980 ft) mark, first achieved by John Bennett in 2001, and has only been achieved five times since. The difficulties involved in ultra-deep diving are numerous. Although commercial and military divers often operate at those depths, or even deeper, they are surface supplied. All of the complexities of ultra-deep diving are magnified by the requirement of the diver to carry (or provide for) their own gas underwater. These lead to rapid descents and "bounce dives". Unsurprisingly, this has led to extremely high mortality rates amongst those who practice ultra-deep diving.

References to somewhat recent real life material/welding incidents:

news/us-news/metallurgist-admits-faking-steel-strength-test-results-navy-subs-rcna5213

.ca/news/politics/submarine-welding-repairs-hmcs-chicoutimi-victoria-1.3584592

Reference to what the CSR and Rus jets were doing: wiki/Basic_fighter_maneuvers#Maneuvers

High-side guns pass

If the attacker has a significant altitude advantage, a high-side guns pass is usually prudent. Sometimes called a "swoop", "boom and zoom", "hit and split", plus a variety of other names, it consists of a powered dive toward the rear quarter of a lower flying opponent. Shooting with the cannons in a single, high-speed pass, the attacker uses excess kinetic energy to disengage from the fight in a zoom climb back to a safe altitude, restoring the potential energy. This allows the attacker to set up another attack and dive again. Surprise is often a key element in this type of attack, and the attackers will often hide in the sun or clouds, stalking their opponents until a good opportunity is presented. A high-side guns pass is a very effective tactic against a more maneuverable opponent, where the turning battle of a dogfight is best avoided.[47]

wiki/Mikoyan-Gurevich_MiG-21#Vietnam

The VPAF flew their interceptors with guidance from ground controllers, who positioned the MiGs in ambush battle stations to make "one pass, then haul ass" attacks.[43] The MiGs made fast and often accurate attacks against US formations from several directions

After shooting down a few American planes and forcing some of the F-105s to drop their bombs prematurely, the MiGs did not wait for retaliation but disengaged rapidly. These "guerrilla warfare in the air" tactics[43] generally proved successful during the war. In December 1966, the MiG-21 pilots of the 921st FR downed 14 F-105 Thunderchiefs without any losses.[44]