Chapter 281

Ice Carrier Leviathan, 300 kilometers from Karond Kar

In most carriers many of the planes have to be to be parked on deck, so that there
is space to work in the always crowded hangar. Leviathan was bigger than all of
them and given the seas it was supposed to operate in and the planes flying off it
this carrier was different. The cavernous hangar had rough ice walls, lamps and
pulleys hung from the high ceiling. In a platform far above the floor a small crew
shoved scale models of planes over a map of the hangar to avoid congestion. Below
them a small army of mechanics and haulers worked hard on Leviathan's planes. About
half of them were painted the flat gray used by the mercenaries, the others the red
and gold livery of the Celestial Dragon's Air Corps. All of them were checked,
fueled and received additional shackles under their lower wings. Some received
slender missiles, others slightly bigger tubes that flared out at the end.

All planes had a complicated-looking shackle under their fuselage. Most held bombs,
some the shiny droplets of fuel tanks. The bombs had an odd look to them. Their
front was deep green with several colorful bands around it and twisted strips of
soft iron. The back part was the flat red of primer and the metal had a somewhat
coarse look to it.

Heinrich Klavitter shivered a bit when he saw them. The bombs used to be 203 mm AP
artillery rounds. When the guns to shoot them had been held up in harbor their
chief engineer had suggested welding fins to them, making their aerial bombs. Jacub
General had cited historical precedent, apparently the IJN had converted AP shells
into bombs for their dive bombers. And after a couple of failures his welders had
indeed produced workable bombs. Last week Hartmut Klawitter had looked forward to
the chance of using them on the DawiZharr. Now, after his close brush with death,
he was not so sure. Still, he simply had no choice. If he and his pilots could not
stop the Dreadnaughts coming for them everybody on Leviathan would take a swim
pretty soon.

He made his way into the briefing room. The warrant in charge of it called
everybody to attention as quickly as he dismissed it. He faced 48 pilots. Such a
small proportion of the carrier's complement and still it was up to them to stop
the doom coming for them. In an earlier life Klawitter would have relished that
role, sure he was up to it. Now he was on the wrong side of 40 and such notions had
left him. And he had to bring the pilots to the point where they believed they
could do exactly that. Hartmut nodded to the warrant who dimmed the room's lights
and started the projector. It started with a map of the Great Ocean between
Leviathan and Karond Kar. About halfway between these were the pictograms of ships
in red and a line that connected them with the carrier.

"Listen up people, this is it. This is the day we all trained for, the day we
prepared for, and where we make or break it. And we will make it, not just because
we are that good, but because we are in for a swim if we fail. Personally speaking
I do not fancy the local water temperatures, so let's avoid that, shall we?
As you should expect this is an all-bird mission, both first and second flight will
participate. First flight will attack enemy shipping, second flight will provide
cover.

So what does the other company bring to the table and how do we deal with them? The
enemy is less than 200 kilometres from here, at 351988, course 75 with a speed of
about 10 knots. I have seen five capital ships myself, but spotted no escorts.
These need to go, they are all armed with major caliber weapons. I have seen four
flying disks, but there may be more.
We will launch immediately after this briefing and assemble around the carrier. As
soon as we are all up we will go to a course of 255 till we make contact with the
enemy. They seem to know where we are, no need for any doglegs. Altitude for the
first flight is 12,000 feet, second goes for 15,000.

First flight, led by me, will attack the ships. We will conform to whatever course
they assume and attack from their front. I do not think we need the go-around and I
want to give those flying disks as little time to intercept us as possible. We need
to hit the first time, and that means releasing no higher than 1000 feet."

There was a groan that ran through the assembled pilots.

Yes, that is lower than we usually do. But we get one chance at this. Oh, we can
attack again, the enemy will not catch us so quickly. But if we need to do so there
might be more flying disks. We have the weapons to fight them once, but not twice.
So we have to make it count, and that means releasing low. Am I understood?"
There were some "dui" mixed with the "ayes", but Klawitter would not press that
issue, not now.

Second flight, you have the aux tanks for a reason: when we meet the enemy you have
all the fuel to turn and burn. Use the nitrox, but remember everything over five
minutes is a gamble. Use altitude, use your wingmen and aim carefully. We have only
a handful of the missiles, make sure they hit their mark. Protect the drop at all
costs.
When we are done we come back via course 075. Remember the leg back will be longer
as Leviathan will not keep station until we are back.

Let us show these Stumpies that they should have stayed in their caves. Let's do
this."
And while the pilots, no matter whether man or Druchii cheered, Hartmut Klawitter
mused whom of them he would see again.

Bunker, before Neustadt

The morsel was irresistible, it smelled sooo good that the rat started to salivate
in anticipation. Its last meal was not that long ago, but its metabolism was a
fast-burner, doubly so in winter. The giants were not directly seen and moved so
slow anyway. A quick sprint from its hidey-hole and she could retreat. The whiskers
vibrated nervously for a long moment before the rodent began its sprint. It
accelerated to its full speed within the length of an arm, navigating the uneven
ground easily. Its claws dug into the ground to slow it in an amazingly short
distance and sharp teeth fixed the morsel immediately. The rat was about to turn
when something hammered into its neck with terrible force. The rodent felt nothing
at all of its limbs the short moment before darkness set in.

Gernod clapped his hands, even when this result would cost him some credits.
"Got it fair and square Kuan Ti. Not bad at all."
"I told you I just have to get close, then I can see the little fraggers."

Nobody doubted the loader's dexterity with her hands or her reflexes. But the thick
glasses on her face said why she was loading the machine gun, not using it. The
bunker was small and so whatever was in that space was definitively not safe from
the sharpened spade that followed her wherever she went.

"Think you can fry that one up too?"

Dimitri currently manned the machine gun, not that this kept him from turning away
from his observation post to look at their newest catch.
Gernod just looked at the former Kislevite and pulled up an eyebrow, that was
enough to remind the gunner of his duties. He mumbled something under his breath
when he turned back to the vision slit. Gernod could not make out what he was
saying before Dimitiri's head exploded, sending blood, bones, and brain all over
the bunker.
There was a small delay before a muted "crack" could be heard from outside.
The survivors froze for a moment before all but one dropped to the ground. Gernod's
jaw clenched in frustration and he took a couple of breaths before he could speak.

"That was a sniper folks. Stay away from the vision slot for now, then you cannot
be hit. Fuck this, Dimitri did deserve better. Kuan Ti, get the Sergeant on the
horn, we need the medics and a replacement gunner. Then we..,."
"How could he see Dimitri, it must be some Khaine magic…"
"Stow it Hern, and help me with Dimitri, we need to man the machine gun again."
"Fuck I am not going to go near that thing as long as.."
"You will do it as long as I say so Hern. Help me pull him back, then I can do it
myself."

Gernod tried his very best to ignore the warm, sticky, wet mass than ran down his
arm while he pulled Dimitri's corpse down the bunker. Looking anywhere else than at
the body he saw the flickering shadows cast by the two candles and the brighter
spot of light projected through a vision slow (slot not slow). The spot went dark
for a second when Hern passed it on his way to the machine gun. Immediately after
that a "splat" announced a bullet that buried itself in the bunker's wall close to
the slit he had just passed.
Gernod dropped the corpse when the thought hit him.

"Extinguish the bloody candles, right fucking now. And Hern, before you get to that
gun you blacken your face. Scheiße, how could we be that stupid. Kuan Ti, do you
have the Sergeant? Get him here, I need to show him something."
Gernod's idea how the Druchii snipers could know when to shoot through the ports by
seeing when they were darkened was taken with far more enthusiasm than Dimitri's
corpse. It left the bunker's crew shaken in the cold darkness, waiting for what the
enemy might do next.

Leviathan, the Great Ocean, 305 km from Karond Kar

Hartmut Klawitter watched his Crew Chief lift two brake chocks and a number of
wires with white flags on them. To his left another crewman lowered the flags he
had so far left up and pointed one to the left.
His plane was now free to taxi and he pushed the throttle to the first detent. The
Pursuit Special accelerated slowly from its parking spot on Leviathan's deck.
Pushing the rudder pedals allowed him to align the plane with the white strip that
ran down the length of the deck. The ramp at the deck's end was barely visible
above the engine hood that aimed skyward. The ramp was a dark rectangle against a
brightening sky. Watching the crewman to his right the pilot pushed the brakes and
the throttle at the same time till the engine roared.

The flag in the crewman's hand waved three times before it dropped. Klawitter
released the brakes, engaged the nitrox injection, and shifted the propeller's
pitch. The engine's roar changed to a shriek and vibrations made reading the
instruments nearly impossible. The plane accelerated like a sports car despite its
heavy load and Klawitter tried to keep the biplane straight while having an eye on
the airspeed indicator). He needed 120 kph for a safe takeoff at his current weight
and more would be better. He had a bit more than 300 meters to attain that speed.
If he realized that he would not be able to reach that speed in the space available
he would quite likely not be able to come to a stop before the deck ended.

He was far too busy to worry about that much and the desired "120" came up a few
dozen meters before his plane hit the ramp. That kicked him in the butt like
Sigmar's boot and pushed the plane up. The Pursuit Special's ascent stopped for a
second when the inertia from that launch was done before resuming when the airflow
across the wings increased enough to provide more lift. A few minutes later the
nitrox madness in the engine was quieted for now and he orbited the carrier in a
wide circle. Every 30 seconds another plane clawed for the sky, every other minute
another four-finger swarm formed up. It took nearly half an hour before the last
plane formed up and Klawitter could lead the two flights towards the enemy.

The sun had barely cleared the horizon and would not get that much higher today. It
shone through scattered clouds, leaving the sea striped with bands of darkness and
light. The planes were arranged in a couple of vees and Klawitter could see the
training of the last months paying off in good formation keeping. His head might
have been mounted on a swivel for all the turning around he did. He would have done
so anyway, most pilots were shot down by an enemy they never saw. On top of that he
had 47 other planes he had to look after. He could tell this to himself all day
long, but he knew that his close call with death and several Flugscheiben was the
real motivator. When he thought about it too long the air seemed too thin and the
heated flight suit too cold. And he was leading all his planes to the place where
more flying disks were to be found.

Armored Cruiser "Hashut's Fire", course 075, 11 knots

The cruiser's boiler room was a hot place, no matter whether it was underway or
inside harbor. If its reactor ever lost temperature very bad things would happen.
Hashut's blessed lava kept it at 43 degrees and the leaky steam pipes made sure it
was a humid heat. Even at rest, a human sweated miserably. Doing any physical labor
exhausted anyone in heartbeats. The air burned its way down the slave's throat and
joined the burn in his legs. He swayed from the heat and dehydration, but losing
his step was death. Before him the huge pistons that drove "Hashut's Fire" rose and
descended with each rotation of its crankshaft. The connecting rods had two
bearings, one on the crankshaft and one halfway up to the piston. These needed to
be lubricated constantly and that was what the oil can in the slave's hand was for.
The can weighted some five kilograms when it was full and could have been made from
solid lead given the pain caused by holding it. The slave had to do constant squats
to follow the engine's movements. Every time he feared that he would no longer have
the power to push himself up again. When he was lucky this would just earn him a
whip stroke or two to add to the scars on his back. If he was unlucky he would slip
on the mixture of oil and water on the boiler room's deck. Then the machine would
maim and kill him horribly. If luck left him totally he would survive the fall and
the DawiZharr would drag him through the hatch at the far end of the boiler room.
No slave ever came back from there, but rumor said that his soul would feed the
engine he now serviced with the last of his power.

Pursuit Special 01, 3000 meters AGL, 30 kilometers from Hashut's Fire

Hartmut Klawitter's neck started getting stiff, a reminder that he was no longer
20-something. It did not keep him from looking all around every so often, he just
paid for it. Given that the price of failure was joining Tivsha wherever she might
be, he endured. So far his exertions brought him the sight of a great lot of
biplanes, some ice floes, a black sea and a cloudy sky. Just when he thought he had
spotted a speck on the horizon his wireless started to crackle.

"Pursuit 01, this is Hawker 01. Enemy in sight at 11 o'clock, angels 20, several
disks, over"
"Hawker 01, Pursuit 01, copy spotting several disks. All Leviathan elements, change
course to 070, accelerate to combat speed. Hawker 01, you are free to engage."
"Pursuit 01, Hawker 01, solid copy on free to engage. Out"

It was fitting that Xune had spotted the enemy first, the fighter escorts were 2000
meters above the German and Druchii eyes were certainly helping. Now there was
still time for proper radio procedures, so important when one had 48 wireless sets
in the air. Hartmut Klawitter suspected it would not last. Pushing the throttle
forward till it hit another detent and changing the prop pitch again caused the
engine to roar louder and the biplane to accelerate. Not as much as Klawitter would
have liked, not with the load under his wings and fuselage, but still to speeds the
Red Baron would have thought impressive.

He spotted the ships nearly at the same time that the report came in. The DawiZharr
ships might be smokeless, but their air cover gave them away. It was a bit hard to
tell from here, but they seemed to be the same ones he had seen yesterday. He
shivered despite the warmth of his flight suit. Breathing three times to calm
himself he pushed the wireless button."

"All Helldiver elements, enemy ships spotted. Change course to 050 till the enemy
is on 090, then we go in. We engage by elements, command element will attack last
ship with me."
There were quite a few confirmations in his ears, but they hardly registered. What
filled his mind were the dark shapes that became larger with every second. The
flying disks were looking exactly like the one which had killed his wingmate and
nearly offed him in the bargain. And his mission asked him to ignore them.

The seconds ticked by while Leviathan's planes flew perpendicularly to the enemy
until they had them lined up.
"All Helldivers, course change to 076. We are going in."
And that they did. Turning to face the enemy Hartmut Klawitter saw the lead
DawiZharr ship disappear below his engine cover, while the others became a bit
blurry due to the propeller. And slightly above him to both sides were the
Flugscheiben that wanted to kill him. Their combined speed meant that they got
closer with frightening speed. One seemed to make its way towards Hartmut. His
instincts told him to engage the nitrox and evade. His mind clearly stated that
this would disrupt the formation and nix the attack. His stomach decided to do
flip-flops.

And then a line of fire connected the flying disk with something unseen. It entered
the Flugscheibe from above and caused an explosion that erupted from every opening
the disk had. The remains dropped from the sky with all the elegance of a flying
manhole cover. A high pitched shriek pierced Klawitter's ears and for once he did
not call for radio discipline. The escort fighter's kill deserved the elation.

The 70 mm rocket had become a staple of all Reiksbund air forces during the last
several years. Cheap, not too heavy and easily able to take a Flugscheibe or
Battlemech Golem they could be mounted on the lightest planes. They were quite
accurate if employed from their proper launchers which would not fit the biplane's
wings. They could be shot from single tubes if one did not mind the inaccuracy. Or
one could employ the laser-guided variant, which would hit the spot the pilot
illuminated precisely.
Hartmut would breathe far easier if the Wild Geese would have more than a hand-full
of them. And by the traffic in his wireless set, that handful had just been used
up.

Hey (They not Hey) had not been spent in vain though, most Flugscheiben were either
gone or fled the battlefield as quickly as they could. And now it was Hartmut
Klawitter's turn to make sure that expenditure was not in vain.
The ships below were so far not making any course changes, which was good. Hartmut
suspected that this would change when the attack began, but he had timed things so
that all ships should get theirs at roughly the same time. He saw a few evilly
blinking lights and lazy-seeming balls of fire that tried for the Wild Geese. They
had probably next to no chance as long as the biplanes remained at this altitude,
but that would change soon.

The last ship in the line was about to disappear under the spinner, which told
Klawitter he would for five minutes cease commanding 48 planes and fly for himself.
He closed the radiator flaps and feathered the prop. He wanted to fly home and an
over-cooled, over-speeding engine would not do. Checking that he had done so he
pulled the joystick sharply to the right. The world turned around him till the sky
was below and the sea above his head. Now he could see the enemy again and he was
ugly as sin. Pulling the stick towards his chest till the plane aimed directly at
the enemy was the next step, turning the plane around so the world was right side
up the next.

And then there was the glory of the dive. The struts that kept the wings in place
shrieked with a speed they were not meant to take. The engine roared and his target
grew with every second. The dreadnought's wake became individual waves, starting to
bend to the right far too slowly. The black dots from which the fire balls rose
resolved themselves into discernible gun pits and sailors could be seen. He was not
sure if he saw DawiZharr pointing at him or if he imagined it.

It was am (a not am) moment off (of not off) terrible, frightening beauty, one that
would burn itself into his memory till the day (he died. By now he was very, very
sure that the plane was below the altitude for dropping, very much so. And still
his traitorous altimeter insisted that this was not so. Klawitter divided his
attention between the rapidly spinning indicator and refining his aim. And then he
could finally grip the handle that had been fixed besides his seat and pull with
all his might. For an eternal second nothing seemed to happen, and then his plane
jerked. That was when he could finally pull the stick and change the prop setting
back.

He needed all his strength to pull the stick all the way and keep it there. The
plane was very close to speeds it was not meant for and so the wind that tore over
his rudder wanted a fight. The ship disappeared below his engine cover, but the
Pursuit Special was still aimed at the sea. The horizon came up at the same time
when the elephant sat on his chest. The g-forces pushed the pilot into his seat and
the wooden airframe groaned under the strain it was subjected to. And while the sky
finally the filled Klawitter's windscreen the edges of his field of vision came
closer with every second. All colors bleached from his sight and breathing became
so very hard to do. Pulling up this hard meant that both Klawitter and his plane
weighted five times as much as normal. That forced blood from his head into his
legs and lower body, making it hard to think and see. The pilot could just try to
hold the stick when his vision blacked out before him and hope he would regain his
vision in time.

Armored Cruiser "Hashut's Fire", course changing rapidly, 13 knots

It was just not fair. Normally the slaver's announced all course changes, so that
the slaves had a chance to grab something to hold. Such moments were to be savored,
the blessed time when one could catch the breath and maybe swill a mouthful of
tepid water. Now the ship had come to a new heading so fast that the engine room
tilted to one side. One second the slave had poured oil into a bearing the next he
had fallen to the deck and the precious oil can had dropped into the engine's
innards. He could just stare at it and horror filled his soul while the connecting
rod squashed it against the crankshaft. He would be tortured before they brought
him to the place from which no slave returned. The slave saw the disdain in the
slaver's face, saw him grabbing for the cruel whip and then standing up when the
hammer of a god hit "Hashut's Fire"

The slave dropped all the way to the deck when the ship shivered and an explosion
filled all ears. For a moment nothing else seemed to happen and then there was a
hiss. The slave could not see the superheated steam that emerged from the now empty
rivet hole. But he saw the DawiZharr's melting face all too well and heard the
dying Dawizharr's shrieks. He was still deciding if he should rejoice when a stream
of cold water entered the engine room and hit the boiler squarely. The resulting
explosion killed him as quickly and painlessly as anything could.

Office, Platz der Republik 1, Berlin

Olaf Scholz's office was no longer inside the Reichstag, such was the fate of the
main opposition party of the Bundesrepublik. It was still an imposing edifice,
realm of one of Germany's most powerful politicians. The old Andrea Hermanns would
have hesitated at the doorstep for a second. The old Andrea Hermanns had died in
the rigging of a windjammer at Beaufort 8, a new one had been born in a duel ring
in Estelia. She held her head high and her shoulders square, despite being on a
mission she could only see as a forlorn hope.

"Good morning Andrea, nice to see you again."

"Good morning Olaf, thanks for seeing me at such short notice."

Olaf Scholz was a very old hand at politics. Even he himself no longer knew how
deep the friendly façade went and how much it was really part of his personality.
Normally there were avenues of approach a junior backbencher should use to approach
the SPD's old man, they had not been used. His memory was still good enough to
remember that she was a replacement for a long-standing party member. She had not
been through the "Ochsentour", the hard slog that the SPD still expected of anybody
who wanted to be elected to high office. She had not spent much time with the
Jusos, she had not been the aide of a member of Bundestag for a long time or headed
a local chapter free of charge for a decade.

Scholz had to fight the notion of disdaining her for just that. That had been the
old Sozialdemokraten, and it had cost them badly when they were still on old Earth.
If they wanted to regain their chances at governing Germany they would have to let
new talent in. That was hard to do in any party, but the SPD was more resistant
than most. And truth be told, Olaf sometimes felt uncomfortable with the new
people. Their outlook at the world was so different from his own. His worldview had
been formed on old Earth, the most important parts in the somewhat staid West
German republic. He knew that this world played by very different rules, but his
heart had yet to accept them, if it ever would.

Still, his secretary had a few cookies and some decent tea for both of them and
Olaf even made them sit down in the lounge area instead of at his desk. He was not
sure if Hermanns appreciated the gesture, the younger people were like that. Both
had a sip and bit into a sweet while exchanging some titbits about the weather.
When the cup was half-empty the old man decided to push the issue.

"So Andrea, what is it that brings you here? The committee on budget still not able
to grasp Excel?"
"No, not that, they make progress now that I feed them smaller doses."
"Ha, tell me about it. So what is it then?"
"Naggaroth."
"The slave thing?"
"Yes, the slave thing. Lots of humans who do not want to be killed and tortured by
the damn Spitzohren. I can understand that we did nothing when everybody expected
them to be overrun in a few days, but now we have a chance. Put the screw on bloody
Malekith. He has enough problems, he does not need us intervening."

Olaf Scholz's shoulders sagged a bit and he collected himself before answering.
"First off: You are right. What happens in Naggaroth is a shame and should be
stopped. Unfortunately I do not see a way to do so. I was not involved obviously,
but I know that the Foreign Ministry tried some unofficial contacts. It is not that
we have an embassy in Naggaroth, but there are ways to reach Malekith if one really
wants to. The whole enterprise was low-key as the coalition is against any
intervention in this mess anyways. Turned out that Malekith is not having any of
it."

"Why? He does not need a two-front war?"

"No, he does not. The current guestimates are either hurt pride, matter of
principle, or that he fears that this would cause more slave revolts."
"So what can be done?"
"Nothing short of military intervention. And that is currently not on the table."
"Why for god's sake? The Bundeswehr would eat his forces for lunch."

"When they get there, which is very far away. Either they get there with very few,
light units which might well be overwhelmed. Or they take too long to assemble and
ship something substantial, that might arrive too late and the government has egg
on its face, together with the army staff. And the big question is "then what".
Imagine we would magically transport the 7th Panzer Division to this Neustadt, that
would surely be enough to secure the place. But either we need to keep them in
place indefinitely, replace Malekith, or transport all the slaves here. And none of
that is acceptable to Söder, Junge, and company. Truth to be told, I am not sure
how parts of our electorate would react to half a million refugees dropped here all
of a sudden."

Andrea Hermanns was no politician yet and might never be. Frustration and
resignation were displayed clearly in her face and her voice dropped scorn.
"So we do nothing?"
"So we do nothing in this matter, no. We are the opposition after all and if we
push this matter too badly the government would take this as a mallet to hit us
with. "The socialists want to waste the German taxpayer's money for foreign
adventures and all that."
"And that is enough to let half a million people to be tortured and killed?
Really?"

"Andrea, I understand you, I truly do. But one of the hardest things to learn in
the Reichstag is choosing which issues to get behind. At this very moment there are
a thousand worthy causes that call for attention. The caste system and the current
food shortage in Ind. The way the Cathayans treat several of their minorities, the
discrimination the Strigani still suffer in the Empire, or the fact that the
majority of German pensioners are half a step away from poverty. All of these cry
for attention, all of them are worthy but we have only limited resources to tackle
them. And none of the issues I mentioned call for the Bundeswehr to march.
As the opposition we cannot say what resources are spent where anyways, we can try
to keep the current government honest. But even when we do not have to decide where
the Bundeswehr goes and where the taxpayer's money is spent even we have to husband
our strengths. And at the moment far too few people care for the slaves of
Neustadt, so this is not where the party will expend at least officially."

"And unofficially?"
"We have to make more people care for the slaves."
"And how do we do that?"
"Well, we won't get much done with an article in Vorwärts, that is for sure. Now, I
am no expert on these social media things, that is for the youngsters. Maybe
something could be done there, I have no idea. Just hypothetically speaking, if I
were to see something worthwhile there might be a reptile fund to help."
"Uff. I am not sure I…"
"Don't be. Network a bit, that will do you some good anyway. See what help you can
muster. And then go for it, if you think it is important to you and you can hack
it."

Ice Carrier Leviathan, 350 kilometers from Karond Kar

Hartmut Klawitter needed all his reserves to step forward and present a confident
commanding officer.
"Three out of five, and one of the survivors is certainly dinged. I have said it
before, I'll say it again: Very well done folks, very well done indeed.
Unfortunately the two ships have not gotten the memo and are still on course. And
that means we have to do it again and make sure this time that the suckers sink.
Again, an all-birds mission, again course 75, just distance is a bit lower. As
everybody made it back we will use same chain of command as before. We will use the
same method of attack, but two elements will attack this time. Element 02 and
Command element on me, we take the second ship in line and leave first dibs to the
rest of you guys. Xune will provide cover. Any questions?"

Nobody moved for a few seconds, then Xune Silvercrest lifted his hand.
"Sir, we have expended all laser-guided missiles during the last mission. What if
the Flugscheiben show up again?"
"Well you know that and I know that, and I will not tell the Chaos Stumpies about
it. So best bet is they won't show up at all, they fled quickly enough last time."
"And if not?"
"Then you have the light guns."
"Then we have four shots per plane."
"Then you should not miss."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I think."
"Oh I won't tell you how you do your job, but I have this idea…"

Close to bunker, before Neustadt

The Druchii sniper had not moved during the last two hours. That was not easy,
given that his uniform was thoroughly drenched by cold water from below. The cold
had one advantage though, it reduced the stink from the bodies around him markedly.
They were the perfect camouflage, having the same uniform as those around him and
the same pale face of death. He waited for the slaves to make the same stupid
mistake again, of silhouetting themselves in their vision slots. He would punish
them for that and please Khaine. At the same time the slaves would be less willing
to watch from their bunkers, and wouldn`t that be a good thing?

The change was a small one, not as black-and-white as it used to be. Even the
slaves could learn after he killed enough of them. But he was no human, to be
deterred by a blackened face. He could see the human features behind the vision
slot and still acquire a sight picture despite the near-total blackness. He pulled
the stock against his shoulder so very slowly, no movement was to draw in a human
sight. He brought the slit and the face behind it into view and breathed in deeply.
He exhaled a third of the way before stopping. He pulled the trigger with care and
the shot broke with the same suddenness as shattering glass. He heard a meaty
impact, but no scream. He was about to crawl backwards when the whistling from
above started.

Bunker, before Neustadt

Gernod pushed the butterfly trigger all the way, walking the tracers all over the
place where the muzzle flash had erupted from. He had no idea if he hit anything,
but he put enough lead downrange to kill a company of Druchii. The sight before him
remained dark for a moment before flashes of red lit it up. The mortars were
dumping some 20 shells into the small area before the bunker. Anything alive in
that area should be dead by now. He stopped firing as it seemed superfluous given
the violence before him. Looking to his side he saw the remains of the cabbage that
they had decorated a bit with coal and paint. Normally he would not play with his
food, but it had served well as sniper bait.

Pursuit Special, 200 km before Karond Kar

Hartmut Klawitter's head was still turning a lot, his gaze shifting from
instruments to his wingmates' position to the airspace around Leviathan's attack
flight. The sun was on its way towards dusk and a red glow suffused the horizon.
There was a lot to do for the pilot and that was a good thing. Ever since he had
regained his sight after the first dive attack, ever since he had seen two
DawiZharr ships escape, there was one question on his mind. Would the Flugscheiben
be back or would they abandon the dreadnaughts to their fate?

Klawitter eyed the clouds above him with at least the same intensity as any other
parts of the sky. He had been ambushed once, he would not be again. When he looked
back at the instruments he checked the screen that displayed where his planes were.
Not that his biplane had radar or anything so grandiose. There was just a butchered
smartphone wired into the electronics of all planes, providing a location to the
pilots and their location to Hartmut and far-off Leviathan. The only powers who
could supposedly use these emissions against them should be at least friendly
neutrals and it made his job that much easier.
So far things had gone pretty well, with only two planes having to turn back to the
carrier because of mechanical issues. Given that they had used the Pursuit Specials
hard and in a role they were not really built for before doing very little
maintenance that was good. He would …The crackle in his ear cut his thoughts short.

"Pursuit one, this is Pursuit 04. I see many airborne bogeys at 12 o' clock, Angels
20, closing. Over"
"Pursuit 01 copies many airborne bogies, Pursuit 04. All elements, keep course.
Out."

Hartmut Klawitter had good vision, for a human of more than 40 years that was. Many
of his Druchii pilots were considerably older, but their bodies played by different
rules. Now that he knew where to look he could also make out the small black dots
that silhouetted themselves against the white and gray clouds. And there were many
of them, far more than he had ever seen. He had planned for some Flugscheiben, but
not that many. He also had no choice, but to see the attack through.
"Hawker 01, this is Pursuit 01, many bogies seven klicks ahead, closing on my
position. Over"
"Hawker 01 copies many bogies seven klicks ahead. Will proceed as planned. Out."

Hartmut Klawitter's flight was still flying at their somewhat sedate 250 kph cruise
speed. The disks were faster, the pilot had reason to know. They seemed to get
hotter the faster they flew, so there was a limit to what they could achieve. Still
they closed with what seemed like warp speed. Klawitter's breath stopped at the
thought of judging things wrong. He knew he wanted to end this right now, knew that
would lead to disaster and silently counted to ten. Checking his screen and the
enemy before him he saw that it was time.
"Come on down now Xune" was bad radio procedure and what had been agreed between
the flight leaders two hours ago.
For a moment nothing seemed happen and Klawitter nearly despaired at the sight over
ever more Flugscheiben coming into view.

A predator's shriek came through his headphones stopped the pilot's thoughts and
made him look upwards. The dark cloud above the Flugscheiben birthed fast-moving
shadows. Some blended into the gray, others stood out in red and gold. Nearly two
dozen biplanes that aimed for the flying disks, aiming for their upper sides. Guns
fired under the Pursuit Specials' wings, producing spectacular back-blasts that lit
the clouds. Many of these shots missed, but those which connected destroyed the
flying disks utterly. The Flugscheiben broke formation like a flock of alarmed
crows while the Wild Geese's escorts dove through them accelerating as they went.
They had provided an opening for Hartmut's flight and he intended to use it for all
that was worth.
"All Helldiver's, this Pursuit 01. We are going in. Make it count people."
Klawitter pushed the throttle all the way forward and then engaged the nitrox. His
plane accelerated quickly enough and he aimed the plane for a piece of sky with
neither Flugscheibe nor biplane in it. All around him pandemonium raged. The
Geese's fighters had executed S-turns, making half-loops and turning on their next
targets on the ascent. The flying disks had scattered all over the sky, turning
this way and that. They fired their autocannons at anything in the sky, be it in
range our hopelessly outside. Tracers curved towards the sea or disappeared in the
gray clouds. What the Flugscheiben did not do was break off and flee. Whether this
was as the Geese did not use the guided missiles they no longer had, their numbers
or something else was not clear to Klawitter. The Pursuit Specials had to close
with their enemies, their own weapons were far too short-ranged to hit anything at
range. And hit they must, as they had four shots per plane. The Flugscheiben's
weapon was of similar range and a single hit would turn a Pursuit Special into so
many splinters. The parachutes worn by the pilots would not save them even if they
survived being shot down. The local water temperatures would kill them in under ten
minutes even in their cold weather gear.

Hartmut saw a biplane dropping to the sea like a burning meteor and glowing pieces
of steel that might have been a flying disk rain from the sky. The clouds above him
lit with the weapons fire like a fiery thunderstorm and he flew through its center.

A flying disk appeared in front of his plane like magic. One second there was the
clear sky, the next a dark shape flew directly towards Klawitter. The pilot pulled
the trigger immediately and sent a stream of bullets towards the enemy which all
bounced off harmlessly. Hartmut swore while a cold hand clutched his heart and
fumbling fingers found the button screwed under the trigger.
Cannons have long been part of fighter's fixed forward armament. Calibers between
20 and 30 mm were usual, there were few examples which worked themselves up to 45
mm. Such guns would have ripped the Pursuit Special apart with recoil. Which was
why the gun that fired under the left lower wing had a caliber of 105 mm.

Klawitter finally found the right button an electric current blew a primer in a
huge cartridge case, igniting enough propellant for an L7 tank gun. Had this all
worked on the shell that rested before it, it would have ripped the plane apart. As
the gun was constructed only a tenth or so did that, the rest left the gun's rear
through a venturi nozzle. As things stood the two forces cancelled each other out
and a shell left the muzzle at a bit above the speed of sound. The shell should
have been inside an Imperial gun truck, but had somehow found its way to the Wild
Geese. For such a snapshot it flew remarkably true and impacted a bit off-center.
The rounded shape pushed the shell's tip a bit further out before the fuze
detonated. The shaped charge inside the shell converted its copper lining into a
plasma jet travelling ten times the speed of sound. It burned away a huge amount of
armor, leaving a glowing scar along the Flugscheibe's flank. Its own shots missed
Klawitter's plane by a few meters and the German would have sworn he heard a shriek
when he passed it. When he turned his head he found that the flying disk reversed
course and sped after him.

Klawitter turned around and realized that there was no enemy before him, but a
DawiZarr dreadnought below. Something clicked in his head and a grin split his face
while he switched the nitrox off. Correcting course a bit he brought the plane into
a half-roll that turned the churning sea above his head. Pulling the stick against
his chest and feathering the prop was one act, turning the plane around again the
next. He hardly realized that more tracers passed his plane from above and saw the
muzzle flashes that reached for him from below.

The dive was an indiscernible sensation, something that filled the mind to the
point where conscious thought was nearly absent. Time seemed to pass slowly and too
fast at the same time. The ship below grew with every second and new details vied
for his attention. He barely saw the kink in the ship's wake and was hardly aware
of his course correction. His ears were filled with the engine's roar and the
Flugscheibe's scream of hate. And then came the moment when he had to calculate
just right. He was higher than during his last dive attack but he had been faster
when he started the descent. If he pulled too late he would pancake himself against
the ship. Too far up and he would miss the ship and give the Flugscheibe a chance.
When a traitorous part of his mind was very sure it was by far too late he counted
out a few seconds more before pulling the lever.

Below the plane a set of levers were freed from the pins that held them and rotated
forward, taking the bomb they held with them. When they caught at their stop they
released the former shell outside of the propeller's disk. Now he could pull the
stick back again. This time he remembered to tense his stomach and leg muscles in
an effort to keep as much blood as possible in his brain. And now it was his time
to shout. He had been right, the flying disk was far too heavy and had followed him
too deeply into the dive. It had no weight to drop like he had done and nearly no
aerodynamic surfaces to convert its speed into altitude. The short glimpse he
caught of it showed it glowing from whatever energies it used to fly and maybe the
flash of an explosion from its gun port.

The g-forces he invoked with his pull up nailed him to his seat so that he could
not watch and he saw his vision leech color again. This time he managed to keep his
vision and wits about him, at least to the degree that he always knew where he was.
When things became somewhat normal again he could finally bank the biplane to the
point where he could observe his target. There was a huge column of water before
the ship that made him cheer and a ship that showed no obvious damage. He was about
to swear when he spotted an orange glow at the base of the front turret. He was
still asking himself if he had really seen that when a huge geyser of flame erupted
from that spot. The turret lifted itself from the ship, reaching an impressive
height before dropping back down into the cold sea. The geyser had not stopped by
that time and seemed intent to consume the whole ship. He now spotted the other
DawiZharr dreadnaught. While the damage was not so spectacular there were copious
black clouds of smoke and the ship had something of a list. Above and all around
Hartmut biplanes turned and burned, trying to get into position for a kill on a
flying disk. At the same time the faster disks tried to disengage, just so they
could attack another plane. Several pairs of pursuit specials flew endless
scissors, crossing the paths of their partners. That way they threatened every
flying disk that tried to get into their wingmate's six.

Hartmut Klawitter could stop flying for the Wild Geese for now, he would fight for
himself now. Selecting the right frequency on his screen he pushed the button for
all all-birds call.
"All Leviathan elements, this is Pursuit 01. Mission accomplished folks, time to
get going. If anybody needs to get rid of a bloody Scheibe, they cannot follow into
deep dives."

He saw a plane doing just that and a disk which seemed to hesitate between diving
too fast and too deep and not letting its prey go. Using the nitrox again Klawitter
managed to close the distance and entered a shallow dive. He had to pay attention
to his speed soon. He saw the plywood skin on his wings starting to flutter and the
rudders became very hard to move indeed. He watched as the Flugscheibe grew in his
windshield and leveled his plane as well as he could. When the disk filled two
lines freshly painted on the glass he pulled the trigger all the way. Two
recoilless guns roared, one on each side of his plane and two shells made for the
enemy. One missed by a meter, the other impacted the raised section of the disk
head on.

Klawitter twisted the plane away as hard as he could and still metal parts
"thunked" into the wooden fuselage. The explosion that ripped the Flugscheibe apart
was quite spectacular and Klawitter checked his plane for a few anxious seconds
before deciding that nothing important had been shredded.
And with that it was over. What flying disks remained made their way to Karond Kar
having failed to protect their charges. Hartmut Klawitter never breathed the
rubbery air of his mask so gladly, he could hardly believe being alive. He needed a
minute before the shudders subside and he had to fight his stomach which decided
that now would be an excellent time to void itself. When that was done he used the
wireless again.

"We did it folks, job's well done. We opened the door, next stop Karond Kar. Course
76, we go home. Element leaders, tally losses and landing priorities."
And then he dreaded the calls that would tell him how many of his pilots would not
land on Leviathan.