EaW: Across Burning Skies

August 13th, 1012
Haukhamn, Imperial Haukland, Celestial Sea
Kriegsmarine Unterseeboots-Flotte, III. U-Boots Flottille
U-317

The weather around the Haukland Isles was moderate this time of year, almost balmy compared to the frostiness of the Rocky Sea Strait they had left behind and the frozen shores beyond of the far north. Polaria and the penguin lands were feeling the chill of a cruel autumn, telling of a sinister winter on the horizon. Nova Griffonia might have been protected by its mountain ranges at the border, but the former colony would certainly feel the cold snap when the snow rolled over the peaks to the north and west. For her part, the cold wasn’t much hazard. U-boats were insulated against such temperatures by the very need for their duties, and U-317 had endured literal icefields before.

Still, it was hard to hate the warm sunny day as the submersible sailed into port, changelings lined across the top from aft to bow, waving at the residents ashore and on board the vessels in the harbor. Thanks to its position in the middle of the Celestial Sea, Haukhamn was a diverse and well-positioned trading port. What had once been an anchor to the Entente Combined Fleet had become the protective gateway to the Empire’s shores. The U-boat passed by ship after ship after ship of the Western Fleet, the recently renamed High Seas Fleet. Destroyers, cruisers, patrol craft and more sat in their docks, ready for the word to detach and sail for open water. From their railings, the sailors dressed in uniforms quite similar to the changelings’ own waved down at them, and the submariners waved back up at the ratings. While U-317’s crew were all exclusively changelings, the Imperial sailors were an odd mix of (mostly) griffon, some diamond dogs and even the occasional pony mixed in. Korvettenkapitän Pyrestalker wasn’t sure how she felt about that. The Trident pin hung proudly on her lapels, declaring herself a dedicated follower of High Queen Chrysalis and her teachings. And one of those was the fact that ponies were inferior. Perhaps it was different in the Empire. The ponies hadn’t grown up spoiled and deluded by the effects of alicorn magic or corrupted by the magic of Harmony. Imperial ponies lived just as rough as their avian and canine comrades.

Still, the fact burned low in her gut, and smacked her in the muzzle a little, making her carapace itch. The Empire were technically their allies (even if they were neutral in the Equish War), and so far as she knew no pony had any position of import in their government. That meant, in a way, that Imperial ponies were likely second class citizens, a minority pushed to the side and made to serve in their factories, armies and other places. In that light, she could assure herself and calm the disgust climbing up the back of her throat.

“Look there, Kapitan,” said her Watch Officer, Kapitänleutnant Thysicor. He pointed to a carrier as they sailed by, crawling with griffons and dogs and ponies alike across all surfaces. It and the mighty battleship KMS Gerlach moored next to it both dwarfed U-317, massive titans of nautical power ten or twenty times her size and weight. “That’s the KMS Herzland. Imagine what something like that could do in the Celestial.”

“Imagine what the whole fleet could do,” Pyrestalker countered. “You’ve got most of the Sky Bay Squadron stationed here to watch out for Aquileian ships. That’s a massive battle line. The Equestrians only have what? Maybe two or three carriers and just as many battleships in the Celestial. The Kaiserliche Marine could sweep them up in one sortie to Manehatten.”

Thysicor sighed as he turned away. Pyrestalker was like that, taking every opportunity to use a conversation to express her views or flex her displeasure. Everyling on the boat knew she was frustrated with the Empire not yet joining in on the Equish Theater, their own issues with the Entente be damned. To Pyrestalker, the would-be allies needed to crush Equestria from both sides, and in her view the griffons weren’t holding up their end of the bargain. If they had, she’d raved at the crew before, this war would already be over, instead of brawling through defensive lines like blind bulls.

“There they are!” cried one changeling voice, drawing the two officers’ attention away from an old and tired topic before it could get started. “There’s the fish!”

The ‘fish’ in question were a line of submarines tied up at dock as well, on the far side of the Herzland’s mass. From what she could see, there were about six of them lashed to their moorings. She wondered why they weren’t quartered in their own dedicated sub pens like back in Changelingia, then Pyrestalker remembered that Haukhamn was a captured port, only seized a few months back in May. Given the Imperial attitudes on submarines they had likely been a second priority compared to making sure the grand capital ships of the Sky Bay Squadron could be held here. She shook her head. What a waste. With a great open ocean and plenty of warm water ports, the griffons could be churning out submarines by the truckload. Instead, they were relegated to a support role as Imperial battleships and heavy cruisers took place of prominence.

The subs she observed weren’t all that impressive to her eye. Walrus class, if she remembered correctly. Feathisian designs commissioned when it had been the Ducal Fleet doing the Empire’s nautical work, with the reconstituted Kaiserliche Marine still years away. Compared to her own more modern Type VIIC, the Walrus class was bigger, a bit faster and a bit better armed. In contrast, the Type VIIC could dive deeper, needed a smaller crew and was less costly to build and maintain. Where the griffons had perhaps thirty of their own craft, the Kriegsmarine had dozens and were planning to make even more. Needless to say, she wasn’t impressed.

“Now there’s the real prize hogs,” Thysicor continued, gesturing beyond the older submarines. Beyond those, Pyrestalker had already spotted the three far more modern Dolfijn class that VOPS naval intelligence had quietly informed her of a month ago. Still few in number and just as sluggish coming off the line, the new boats were huge compared to her own. Ten meters longer, a meter thicker and displacing twice as much, some in the Kriegsmarine had compared them to the Arisian Salmon class. These boats were clearly meant for open ocean warfare. Though slower than her Type VII, the Dolfijn class retained the other strengths of the Walrus, including more torpedo tubes and a longer range. She could almost dive as deep as U-317, and had reintroduced the capability to deploy seamines that the Walrus had lacked. All these strengths came with a costly price tag, and for now the Kaiser’s fleet was no more interested in prioritizing these subs than its predecessor. For all that Rottendedam and Skyfall had lavished on designing these boats, the Landsersplatz was clearly not as given over to buying more.

Though she’d never admit it out loud, Pyrestalker was quietly glad for that. Bad enough the seaponies had a submersible fleet to compete with the Queendom’s own, she didn’t relish the prospect of another potential rival, however much they were supposed to be on the same side.

They guided U-317 to their designated pier, not far from the Dolfijns. Due to international maritime law, ships at war could only stay in a neutral port for around twenty-four hours at a time. There was room, however, to abuse such a provision. U-317 was expected to make her patrols for days at a time in the Celstial, raiding shipping lanes to cut the vital supply artery keeping Equestra and New Mareland in the fight. That meant she could legally return for resupply and shelter again, up until some observer caught sight of the changeling boat and reported it. There was no entity that could legally enforce such charter anymore, but the UKA was looking for any viable excuse to get into the war that they could sell to their isolationists at home. This wouldn’t be legal cause, but it would certainly add to it. But after slipping through the north pole and past the small but capable Soviet Navy, Pyrestalker couldn’t give two wits about legal cause and what the UKA would say. She had her orders, though. And she’d follow them.

The enlisted ratings began disembarking even as harbor workers started hauling supplies towards the submarine. With twenty-four hours until they had to depart again, shore leave would be tightly controlled and directed. But this was the first friendly foreign port these crewlings had been to in two years since the war began. They were eager to stretch their wings and spend the pay stacking up in their pockets on foreign company, alcohol and gambling. Even under martial law, Haukhamn’s position made it a nexus for trade and foreign visitation, full of strange and exotic things like zebras, rum from the south and a hundred other small curiosities. Rumor was there were even deer and kirin traders who had set up shop here, bringing imports from their homelands with them. The Empire, eager to make the most of what they had gained, had encouraged the foreign trade to start letting the idols pour in, and since they had the big guns in the harbor, who would argue with them?

A few uniformed figures approached the boat’s mooring, and from her position on top of the conning tower, Pyrestalker could pick them out in the crowd of workers and departing ratings. Three of them were clearly Kaiserliche Marine officers, dressed in similar style to the Kriegsmarine. There were some small differences, but the obvious inspiration from one to the other was quite obvious. The dog striding at the head of the party, whom she assumed was in charge, wore a blue hat for his uniform, unlike Pyrestalker herself who wore a white cap to designate her command of a U-boat. She wondered on that, and tilted her head to watch the party approach. They seemed to be composed of three naval officers and two ratings for escort, armed with cutlasses and pistols. Ceremonial, then. No real threat.

“Kapitan,” Thysicor warned quietly, leaning against the rail casually to disguise his observation.

“I see them, Watch. I think it’s just the welcoming committee.”

“Let’s hope so. Gonna let them aboard?”

“Probably shouldn’t. Let’s go meet them.”

In but a moment, the two officers had grabbed a few ratings to join them at the pier, and were patiently waiting for their Imperial counterparts to arrive. They did so swiftly, and the dog stepped forward first, snapping a crisp salute.

“Kapitan, I am Kapitän-Leutnant zur See Brokk Kupferturm, commander of the Kaiser’s unterseeboot KMU-30. I’ve been directed to welcome you and your crew to Haukhamn.”

Pyrestalker quickly translated the ranks in her head, and realized that in comparison of the differing naval structures they were both equal grade. She returned the salute, then accepted his paw with a hoof, shaking in the universal sign of greeting. Kupferturm turned to the griffon at his left, gesturing.

“My executive officer, Leutnant zur See Elsa Gerritsen.”

“Meine frau,” Gerritsen nodded, saluting in return before extending a claw to shake. She had a heavy Feathisian accent, not a surprise in the Kaiserliche Marine. Feathisians dominated the fleet in the west, and in the slowly rebuilding east it was said Cyanolisians and Gryphussians made up the majority of those sailors.

Kupferturm finally indicated the pony, a pegasus stallion with a dun coating and black mane, his expression hard.

“And Leutnant zur See Mikhail Sidorov, my torpedo chief.”

Pyrestalker started in surprise. That was a Severyanian name. Sure, their homeland wasn’t far to the west across the sea, but to find one in Imperial service? However, the pony saw the confusion and merely nodded, the grim set of his face only twisting in what she assumed he thought was a smile.

“My family were White Exiles. My parents took me to Rottendedam after the Reds took over.” He snapped a salute as well, crisp and firm as before. However, when she returned it and he held his hoof out, she pointedly stared at him, expression steely. He stared back, a small scar on his chin flexing to indicate he was tightening his jaw. Whether it was her current behavior or nature as a changeling, he clearly disliked her just as much as she did him.

To break the awkwardness, Thysicor stepped forward, saluting Kupferturm.

“Kapitänleutnant Thysicor, mein herr. Watch Officer of Her Majesty’s Boat U-317. I can’t tell you how glad we are to be here.”

A faux pas military courtesy wise, as it should be his captain who introduced him, but she was clearly locked in a pointless battle of stubbornness with a creature she considered inferior. Catching on to the intent, the dog returned the salute, shaking Thysicor’s hoof in return.

“I’m told we’re glad to have you. The Admiral would call on you for courtesy, though he expresses his regret that his duties will have him occupied for the duration of your stay.”

“We understand Kapitän-Leutnant,” Pyrestalker replied smoothly, finally breaking off from her glaring match with Sidorov. “The exigencies of international law. Tell the Admiral we appreciate his compliments, and hope to catch up with him on another visitation.”

“I’m sure you have quite the tale to tell him,” Kupferturm replied, an eyebrow arched under his cap. “Not many try the frozen seas of the Pole, much less in a U-boat.” His gaze hardened, the excitement restrained somewhat. “Have any trouble with the Soviets?”

He had a right to be angry. Not only had the Revolution of 978 been carried off by republicans, it had spawned an underlying flurry of socialist uprisings across the continent, some of which the Empire were still dealing with today. When Nova Griffonia’s Governor Teafeather had been shot, the Severyanans had attempted to intervene and use force to lay claim to the territory. The colonials had resisted, and things had settled back to a very tense status quo. Though Nova Griffonia had refused to return to the Kaiserreich when called, the Empire clearly had intentions to keep their claim on their wayward possession, an agreement Queen Chrysalis had publicly promised to keep.

Then again, thought Pyrestalker in the back of her mind, all of Equus belongs to the Queendom. Why shouldn’t they take Nova Griffonia too? Polaria had snapped up the rogue state of Virgilia and the penguin lands, and those were now part of the Northern Protectorate too. Why stop at Nova Griffonia.

“A few close calls with destroyers,” she said coolly, not letting her thoughts show. “The Reds are mostly focused down south like the Ponies are.” She glanced at Sidorov pointedly before returning to the dog. “They never spotted us though. We hope to keep up that good luck streak here.”

“Well, perhaps we’ll see you out on the seas. The Frogs don’t have a lot of ships left outside of the Freeside Gulf anymore. We’re to end what few supplies are making it through overseas. I wish you well, Kapitän. Good hunting.”

“Good hunting to you as well, Kapitän,” Pyrestalker replied, returning his shake before saluting him one last time, shooting a last venomous glare at Sidorov, who pretended not to notice.

Thysicor sighed and shook his head as he brought his hoof down, turning to follow Pyrestalker back aboard U-317 to coordinate the resupply and refueling in their limited timetable. With massive, devastating wars on both sides of the sea, he certainly hoped they could keep further conflict from erupting between them. Both nations had few friends, after all. They needed to keep this connection, as distant and guttering as it was, alive for the future.

But there was that voice in the back of his head warning him that he might not want to get too comfortable here. Who knew when these would no longer be friendly waters?