Chapter 8: Fishing in Novus Orbis

In the year 2020, an unprecedented and unfathomable event transpired: the People's Republic of China, along with its vast territory and over 1.6 billion inhabitants, was mysteriously transported to a new and uncharted world, a magical realm known as Novus Orbis. This sudden and inexplicable relocation brought with it both immense challenges and unforeseen opportunities, reshaping the destiny of the People's Republic of China overnight.

Amidst the initial chaos and confusion that followed the relocation, China faced an immediate and critical challenge—ensuring the survival and sustenance of its vast population. The sheer scale of this logistical nightmare was daunting. With a population accounting for one-fifth of the world's total, the nation's resources were stretched to their limits. Food security became the top priority as existing supply chains were disrupted, and the familiar agricultural lands were now part of an alien landscape filled with unknown flora and fauna.

Before its transportation, China had been a global powerhouse in fisheries, contributing to one-third of the world's reported fish production and two-thirds of the world's aquaculture production. The nation's seafood market was a crucial part of its economy, projected to reach a value of $53.5 billion. China's distant water fishing activities, which had a long history dating back to 1985, played a pivotal role in its food security. These operations had expanded significantly over the decades, reaching 60 regions worldwide by 1996, employing 21,900 fishermen and 1,481 fishing vessels, and yielding a substantial catch of 1,026,500 tonnes.

The China National Fishery Corporation (CNFC) had been at the forefront of these operations. It dispatched the first Chinese fishing fleet to West African waters in 1985. The following year, alongside other Chinese partners, the CNFC initiated trawling operations in the North Pacific, followed by tuna longlining in the South Pacific, and squid longlining in the Japan Sea and the North Pacific by 1989. By 2020, Chinese participation in South Pacific fisheries had grown exponentially, with the number of vessels increasing from 54 in 2005 to 657, and the catch rising from 70,000 tonnes to 458,000 tonnes. A report published in Science Advances in June 2015 had indicated that Chinese long-distance fishing was economically viable only with state subsidies, underscoring the strategic importance of this sector. By 2020, China boasted the world's largest distant water fishing fleet, with nearly 23,000 vessels.

The sudden transportation to Novus Orbis severed all existing trade routes, cutting China off from its global supply chains. This isolation made China's reliance on its extensive fishing fleet more critical than ever. Fortunately, the Leiforian Sea, where China found itself, was abundant in marine life. This discovery offered a potential solution to the immediate food crisis. The CNFC and other fishing corporations swiftly adapted to the new environment, redeploying their fleets to explore and exploit these new, bountiful fishing grounds.

Leiforian Sea, Central Calendar Year 10640, Month 2, Day 7

Captain Hong stood on the deck of his flagship, the Hai Long, surveying the vast expanse of the Leiforian Sea. Commanding a small fleet of 20 ships, all under the banner of the formidable China National Fishery Corporation (CNFC), Hong's mission was clear: to meet the ever-increasing fishing quotas set by the government. The Leiforian Sea was rich in marine life, but venturing deeper into its waters often led to encounters with the native fishermen of this new world. Following the fishing vessels of the natives, Hong's fleet sought the most bountiful fishing grounds, but this strategy inevitably led to heightened tensions.

"Captain, we've spotted several fishing boats from the island nations of Paganda and Irnetia," reported First Mate Zhao, peering through his binoculars. "They appear to be heading straight for us."

Hong nodded, his expression resolute. "Prepare the crew for possible engagement. These nations must learn that China will not be intimidated."

The Pagandan and Irnetian ships, though fast and nimble thanks to their wind magic, were constructed of wood. In contrast, Hong's steel vessels were far superior, armed with advanced technology and heavy weaponry. As the native ships drew closer, their intent became clear—they were preparing to attack.

"Captain, they're coming right at us!" shouted Zhao, his voice filled with urgency.

Hong's eyes narrowed. "Foolish bastards. Do they really think they can challenge the might of China?" He turned to the gunnery crew. "Open fire with the 12.7mm guns. Show them the error of their ways."

The Type 171 heavy machine gun erupted, the deafening noise echoing across the sea. The native ships, unable to withstand the barrage from the Chinese fleet, were quickly forced to retreat. The encounter, though brief, underscored the escalating tensions between China and the neighboring nations of Novus Orbis.

"Let this be a lesson to them," Hong said grimly. "China will defend its interests and ensure its survival, no matter the cost."

As the smoke cleared and the native ships disappeared over the horizon, Hong turned his attention back to the task at hand. The Leiforian Sea teemed with life, including gigantic but mostly harmless creatures. The sight of these majestic beings was both awe-inspiring and a reminder of the rich resources that lay beneath the waves.

"Captain, we're approaching the fishing grounds," Zhao reported. "What are your orders?"

Hong considered the situation. "Deploy the nets and prepare to haul in the catch. We must make the most of these rich waters."

The crew moved with practiced efficiency, casting their nets into the sea. The day's catch was plentiful, a testament to the bounty of the Leiforian Sea. As the nets were hauled back aboard, filled with fish, Hong allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.

"Excellent work, men," he said, addressing the crew. "This catch will help feed our people. Remember, we are not just fishing for ourselves, but for the future of our nation. We are pioneers in this new world, and it is our duty to ensure that China thrives."

The crew cheered, their spirits lifted by Hong's words. Despite the challenges and the ever-present threat of conflict, there was a sense of pride and purpose that bound them together. They were representatives of China, carrying the hopes and dreams of their nation into the uncharted waters of Novus Orbis.

As the fleet continued its operations, Hong remained vigilant. The sea was vast and full of unknown dangers, but he was determined to lead his men through whatever challenges lay ahead. The survival of China depended on their success, and Hong was committed to ensuring that they would prevail.

Days turned into weeks as the fleet navigated the Leiforian Sea, always on the lookout for new fishing grounds and potential threats. The encounters with native fishermen became more frequent, each one a reminder of the precarious balance they had to maintain. But Hong was undeterred. His resolve was as unyielding as the steel hulls of his ships.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the water, Hong stood at the bow of his ship, lost in thought. The sea was calm, and the gentle lapping of the waves provided a momentary respite from the day's labors.

"Captain, a word?" Zhao approached, his expression serious.

Hong turned to face his first mate. "What is it, Zhao?"

"We've received word from the mainland. There are reports of increased tensions with the neighboring nations. They are accusing us of overfishing and encroaching on their waters."

Hong sighed, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. "We expected this. Our presence here is seen as a threat. But we have no choice. Our people are depending on us."

Zhao nodded. "I understand, Captain. But we must be prepared for the possibility of a larger conflict. The natives are growing bolder with each encounter."

Hong's gaze hardened. "If they choose to challenge us, they will find that China does not back down. We will defend our right to these waters, no matter the cost."

Central Calendar Day 15, Month 2, Year 1640, Off the Coast of Qua-Toyne, Evening.

Admiral Richter stood on the bridge of the massive Orion-class battleship, the flagship of the Gra Valkas Empire's Imperial Conquest Army's 12th Fleet. The sea stretched out before him, calm and seemingly infinite, under a cloudless sky. The relatively dry sea breeze felt good against his weathered face. This mission was supposed to be straightforward: enforce a naval blockade on the Qua-Toyne Principality and secure dominance over the region. However, Richter had an uneasy feeling gnawing at his gut.

"Admiral, all ships report ready. We are maintaining formation," his vice commander reported, snapping Richter out of his reverie.

"Good. Keep an eye out. The Principality may be primitive, but we cannot underestimate them," Richter replied, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the horizon.

Suddenly, a shout from the lookout above shattered the stillness. "Admiral! Starboard side! Something on the horizon!"

Richter raised his telescope, focusing on the distant object. His breath caught at the sight. A colossal creature, glowing with ethereal bioluminescence, sliced through the water. It was a Star Narwhal, one of the largest fauna on Novus Orbis, its majestic 220-meter-long body shimmering like a constellation come to life.

"Admiral, we have a fast-moving contact on the radar, heading this way at 99 knots! It's chasing after the Star Narwhal!" the radar operator reported, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Richter squinted through the telescope, his mind struggling to comprehend the sight. The vessel was unlike anything he had ever seen. Sleek and sword-shaped, it moved with impossible speed, cutting through the waves at an astounding 97 knots.

"What the hell is that?" Richter muttered. "That's not Qua-Toyne..."

"All hands to battle stations!" Richter ordered, his voice calm but authoritative.

The ship chasing the Star Narwhal was massive, at least 180 meters long. It looked similar to a Zumwalt-class destroyer from Earth's US Navy, but any seasoned naval officer on Novus Orbis would recognize it as a Silver-Class Mode-III cruiser submarine of the Milishial Imperial Salvation Army Navy.

The Silver-Class cruiser submarine was a masterpiece of Milishial engineering, embodying the empire's unparalleled naval supremacy. At 190 meters long and weight 15000 tones, it was a leviathan of the seas, designed for extended missions far from home ports. Its hull was crafted from a reinforced, lightweight magical alloy, providing exceptional durability and stealth capabilities. The sleek, wave-piercing hull minimized hydrodynamic resistance, allowing for high-speed maneuvers that defied conventional naval engineering.

Propelled by a hybrid system of nuclear-powered engines and magical energy enhancements, the submarine could reach speeds up to 120 knots on the surface. Its advanced radar and sonar systems could detect and track targets at extreme distances, while its magical detection systems sensed magical signatures and anomalies, offering a strategic edge in combat. Armament included two 155mm magic cannons mounted at the front. These cannons fired high-precision, long-range projectiles imbued with destructive magical energy, capable of targeting and disabling enemy ships' critical components. Additional torpedo tubes launchers allowed the submarine to engage various threats, from surface ships to underwater adversaries.

Operationally, the Silver-Class could remain submerged for extended periods, conducting long-range reconnaissance, commerce raiding, and fleet support without needing frequent resupply. Its stealth capabilities, enhanced by noise reduction systems and the magical alloy hull, rendered it nearly invisible to conventional detection methods.

"That star emblem on the hull... It's the Holy Milishial Empire," murmured Vice Commander Hanz.

Richter felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. The Holy Milishial Empire was rumored to be the most powerful nation on Novus Orbis. If their ambassador's arrival in an Adamant-Class magic battleship was any indication, they were a force to be reckoned with. But orders were orders.

"We can't let them pass. Fire a warning shot," Richter commanded.

The battleship's ten 16-inch guns roared to life, sending shells streaking towards the Milishial vessel. The rest of the fleet followed suit, their salvos filling the air with thunder. The ocean erupted in columns of water as the shells landed.

Onboard the Silver-Class cruiser submarine, Captain McCartney watched the spectacle unfold. He was furious. Hunting the Star Narwhal was supposed to be his ticket to wealth—a new mansion for his family. Now, these barbarians dared to fire upon a vessel of the world's greatest superpower. They dared to fire at his ship, disrupting his plans. They would pay.

"Prepare to engage," McCartney ordered, his voice cold and determined.

The cruiser submarine swiftly changed course, moving out of the effective range of the Gra Valkas fleet's cannons. At 40 kilometers away, it seemed untouchable.

"That ship... It's so fast! What the hell is it?!" Richter exclaimed.

"Prepare the magic cannons," McCartney ordered, his voice cold and hard. "They will pay for their insolence."

As the Milishial vessel flashed signals from its deck, the Gra Valkas fleet maintained their attack, bound by their orders. The two 155mm magic cannons on the front of the cruiser submarine began to move, aligning with the fleet's direction.

Boom!

The first shot rang out, followed by a slight delay before the sound reached Richter's ears. The shell hit the water ahead of the fleet, creating a massive splash.

"So powerful! And it can reach us from there?!" Richter's disbelief was palpable.

"Destroyer Palos's propeller hit! The ship is dead in the water!" came the report.

Richter's heart sank. The underwater propeller had been hit by the enemy's cannon—an almost impossible shot. Yet, it happened again.

Boom!

The heavy cruiser Galiass suffered the same fate, its propeller disabled. Half the fleet was now incapacitated.

"Impossible! How can they hit us with such precision?" Richter's mind raced. The sea was not a stable platform, and the waves should make such accuracy unattainable.

The enemy ship continued to fire with frightening accuracy, each shot disabling another ship's propeller. It was clear that the Milishial vessel did not intend to sink them, but to render them helpless.

"We're being toyed with," Richter realized, his heart sinking. "It doesn't want to sink us. It's... it's demonstrating its power."

The fleet was in disarray. Ships struggled to maneuver, their engines straining against the damage inflicted. Smoke and fire filled the air, the acrid smell of burning fuel mixing with the salt of the sea. The once-proud Gra Valkas fleet was reduced to a state of chaos and desperation.

"Withdraw from this region. Have the disabled ships towed back. This operation… is a failure," Richter finally ordered, his voice hollow. He had no choice. To continue would be suicide.

Admiral Richter watched as the disabled ships were towed away, the once-proud fleet now a shadow of its former self. The Holy Milishial Empire's cruiser submarine had demonstrated a level of power and precision that shattered the Gra Valkas Empire's illusions of superiority. As the fleet began its retreat, Richter's mind raced. The Holy Milishial Empire's technology was far beyond anything he had imagined. If this was just one of their smaller vessels, what kind of power did they truly wield?

Back on the bridge of the Silver-Class cruiser submarine, Captain McCartney allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. "Let that be a lesson," he muttered. "No one defies the Holy Milishial Empire."

The Gra Valkas fleet had been humbled, and the path was clear for him to resume his hunt for the Star Narwhal. The skins of these magnificent creatures would fetch a fortune, securing his family's future.

As the Gra Valkas fleet limped away, Richter's thoughts were consumed by the implications of the encounter. He knew that the Gra Valkas Empire could not ignore the threat posed by the Holy Milishial Empire. They would need to develop new strategies, new technologies, and perhaps new alliances to counter this formidable foe.

Richter turned to his vice commander. "Inform High Command of our encounter with the Milishial vessel. Include all details about their capabilities and the damage they inflicted."

"Yes, Admiral," the vice commander replied, his voice steady but betraying a hint of the shock they all felt.

As the vice commander relayed the orders, Richter continued to gaze out at the horizon, where the Milishial vessel had disappeared. The Star Narwhal's ethereal glow had faded into the distance, and with it, the remnants of the fleet's dignity.

Captain McCartney, now free to continue his hunt, ordered his crew to resume their pursuit of the Star Narwhal. The Silver-Class cruiser submarine accelerated, its sleek hull cutting through the waves with ease. The crew moved with practiced efficiency, their confidence bolstered by their recent victory.

"Maintain course and speed. We have a Star Narwhal to catch," McCartney said, his eyes gleaming with determination.

As the cruiser submarine closed in on the majestic creature, McCartney couldn't help but marvel at its beauty. The Star Narwhal moved with grace, its bioluminescent body casting a mesmerizing glow in the twilight. It was a sight few had the privilege to witness, and even fewer could claim to have captured.

"Prepare the capture nets," McCartney ordered. "This one is going to make us rich."

The crew scrambled to ready the specialized equipment designed for capturing such a massive creature. The nets, reinforced with magical fibers, were strong enough to withstand the Star Narwhal's immense strength.

As the cruiser submarine drew closer, the Star Narwhal seemed to sense the impending threat. It began to swim faster, its powerful tail propelling it through the water at incredible speeds. But the Milishial vessel was relentless, its advanced propulsion system easily matching the creature's pace.

"Steady... steady..." McCartney murmured, his eyes locked on the Star Narwhal. "Now! Launch the nets!"

The nets shot out from the submarine, spreading wide to envelop the Star Narwhal. The creature thrashed wildly, its bioluminescent body lighting up the water with a dazzling display. But the nets held firm, their magical fibers binding the Star Narwhal with unyielding strength.

"We've got it!" McCartney exclaimed, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. "Bring it aboard!"

The crew worked quickly, using powerful winches to haul the captured Star Narwhal onto the deck of the submarine. The creature's struggles grew weaker as it was lifted out of the water, its majestic form glistening in the fading light.

"Secure the Star Narwhal and prepare for transport," McCartney ordered. "We need to get this prize back to Milishial as soon as possible."

As the crew secured the creature, McCartney allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The Star Narwhal was a symbol of their dominance over the seas, a testament to the might of the Holy Milishial Empire.

But even as he reveled in their success, McCartney couldn't shake the memory of the encounter with the Gra Valkas fleet. Their boldness in challenging the Empire was a reminder that there were still those who dared to defy them. And while they had been easily dealt with this time, McCartney knew that the Empire would need to remain vigilant.

"Set course for home," McCartney ordered. "We've got a long journey ahead."

As the Silver-Class cruiser submarine began its journey back to Milishial, the captured Star Narwhal securely aboard, McCartney's thoughts turned to the future. The Empire's enemies were growing bolder, and the balance of power on Novus Orbis was shifting. But with the strength and ingenuity of the Holy Milishial Empire behind them, he was confident that they would prevail.

For now, the hunt was over. But the war for supremacy on Novus Orbis was just beginning.

Leiforian Sea, Central Calendar Year 10640, Month 2, Day 28

Captain Hong awoke to the first light of dawn breaking over the horizon, casting a soft glow over the Leiforian Sea.

"Captain, there's movement on the horizon," reported First Mate Zhao, his voice tense. "Looks like another fleet, but this time, they're flying royal navy colors."

Hong peered through his binoculars, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight. The Pagandan fleet was indeed formidable, with thirty warships, each bristling with cannons and outfitted with magical devices—Tears of the Wind God—that allowed them to maneuver swiftly.

"Prepare for battle," Hong ordered, his voice steady. "We will show them that China does not cower before anyone."

The Chinese fishing vessels, though primarily equipped for hauling nets rather than engaging in naval warfare, were swiftly armed and their crews readied. The steel hulls of Hong's ships might offer some protection, but they were significantly outgunned.

At a distance of three kilometers, the Pagandan ships opened fire. The sound of the cannons was deafening, and the water erupted in towering columns where the shells landed.

"Brace for impact!" Hong shouted as he gripped the rail of his ship.

The Pagandan bombardment was relentless. The first shells narrowly missed, but the second volley found its mark. Explosions rocked the Chinese ships, and Hong watched in horror as several vessels were hit, engulfed in flames and smoke.

"Tsk! They're gonna hit us again!" Zhao exclaimed, his face pale.

Hong prayed silently to the gods for strength and resilience. "Hold your positions! Return fire! Show them our spirit!"

Machine guns rattled in response, their sharp staccato contrasting with the booming cannon fire. Despite their best efforts, the Chinese fleet was outmatched. One by one, the fishing vessels were crippled or destroyed.

"Captain, we've taken too much damage!" Zhao shouted over the din of battle. "We can't hold them off!"

Hong clenched his fists, his mind racing. The odds were insurmountable, and he knew that continuing the fight would only result in more loss of life. "Cease fire!" he ordered reluctantly. "Signal our surrender."

The Pagandan ships ceased their assault, and small boats were dispatched to capture the surviving Chinese crew. Hong and his men were disarmed, stripped of their uniforms, and beaten before being thrown into the cramped, dark cells of a Pagandan prison ship.

Later that day, in the Pagandan capital of Buehleria, Hong and his officers were brought before the Pagandan admiral, a stern man named Admiral Kalgor. The grand hall of the naval command was filled with Pagandan officers, their expressions a mix of disdain and curiosity.

Admiral Kalgor eyed the Chinese prisoners coldly. "So, these are the so-called mighty fishermen of China," he said with a sneer. "Thieves and pirates, trying to steal our fish."

Hong, though battered and bruised, held his head high. "We are not thieves," he spat. "We are pioneers, seeking to feed our people in a new world. If you do not release my men immediately, pay for the damage you've caused, and surrender yourselves to Chinese authorities, the People's Liberation Army Navy will turn your pathetic little country into ash."

Kalgor laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Big words from a man in chains. You think you can threaten Paganda? We are a sovereign nation. You have no right to our waters."

"You underestimate the resolve of China," Hong replied fiercely. "We have faced greater adversaries than you. If you harm us further, you will unleash a fury you cannot imagine."

Kalgor's face darkened. "Enough! Take them away. We'll see how much defiance they have left after a few weeks in our dungeons."

Hong and his officers were dragged away, thrown into the damp, overcrowded cells of the Pagandan prison. The conditions were deplorable, with barely enough room to sit, let alone lie down. The smell of unwashed bodies and stale air was suffocating.