Bundesarmeehauptquartier summarized in a single image everything the Bundesleet was founded upon. It was a staggeringly massive complex, spanning the area of a small city, and built like a citadel. Clean, orderly, and planned to the most minute detail, its double set of walls housed everything a modern military needed: army barracks, motor pools, even a small airfield, and nearly every amenety a person, soldier or otherwise, could have need or use of. Situated inland to protect against amphibious incursion, the base was ringed by a series of perimeter defence lines that radiated for kilometres outward in every direction. It was the exclusive domain of the army; even for civilians on official business, access to the grounds was heavily restricted. Falke may have allowed the public a view everywhere else, but this was a microcosm all to itself.
It was also incomplete. Of the full schematics, less than a fifth of the facility was operational, and half the space was reserved for infrastructure the army in its current composition had no use for. Nevertheless, as the military's control over Segesni tightened and plans for the introduction of a civil government began to be examined in earnest, Falke had started drawing up the borders for each sector's area of influence. A permanent headquarters was long overdue: as the chain of command expanded across the country, the
Fritz Lang and its makeshift courtyard were becoming impractical, and quite frankly unprofessional. The offices in New Lunenburg were designed for administrative duties only, and in any case there had been a shortage of supply dumps for a few months now.
Yet even the officers in the know found Sturm's push to begin construction so early unexpected, especially given that its projected net cost was utterly gargantuan. Something had bitten Falke; military recruitment was accelerating rapidly, and more and more of the industrial engine was gearing toward combat material. The official statement was that more men = faster consolidation = stronger industry; that it was a stunt to jolt the economy. But the general staff suspected an ulterior motive: that Sturm was growing uneasy, and not just from the political overturn overseas.
One of the components to
Bundesarmeehauptquartier was a tower of very specific design. It was a unique HyperPulse Generator, an interstellar transmission and receiver station, heavily modified by the Bundesleet and other parties to the Grand Alliance; in addition to broadcasting through space, it could also send a signal through
time and
dimensional planes. The blueprints had been circulating openly throughout Engineering, R&D, and every other department tied to army command since planetfall. Sturm's №1 priority was to re-establish contact with high command, and the tower was his means to do it. From a technical standpoint, assembling the device was a routine construction job; the requisite high-tech industrial backbone was the lynchpin. The first few months of the Mobian expedition could be forgiven; the world was starting from scratch, after all. But as the months began to push into
years, the general's impatience could be appreciated.
Sturm wasn't afraid to die on Mobius. A soldier was a soldier because he was willing to sacrifice himself; even if, in his current capacity he wasn't in direct opposition to O'Leigh, he could take comfort knowing he was building a legacy on this planet. What frightened him was the notion of dying "lost in space": that the fleet would never learn what became of Task Force Falcon, or that by the time the signal was found, the original expedition staff would be dead and gone. Many of the men and women under his command had families or friends or other acquiantances waiting for them back home, who by now would have received the largely unhelpful news that their particular person of interest was "currently subject to a space-time anomaly". To the Bundesleet, time travel was not unknown; sometimes it was even mission-mandated. Home base had special equipment to respond to this situation.
When a line of contact was established, Falke's coordinates in all planes of reality could be pin-pointed, and any transdimensional discontinuities would easily fade away. But until then, every second out of the loop was a second against Sturm and his unit.
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With port cities sprouting along the coast,
Marine was able to commission larger vessels for blue-water fleets. Maritime exploration was finally set to begin in earnest; as the world's outline was gradually revealed, the Bundesleet could at last turn its gaze to events beyond the home continent. To prove that Emperor Karl Franz had friends in more than mere name, Falke drafted a foreign investment plan to strategically develop Reikland's industry and secure a foothold for the Bundesleet at the same time. The project was to be conducted in stages, gradually building within Reikland the necessary infrastructure to support the military hardware Falke ultimately aimed to market... and, perhaps, lay the groundwork for joint arms ventures once the empire was on equal footing.
Conducted in cooperation with imperial planners, the preliminary phase involved the establishment of Bundesleet-bankrolled "special purpose" factories in the major cities intended to lead by example. As technical expertise diffused amongst the local workers' guilds, machinery of incrementally more elaborate design would be imported; if all went to schedule, Reikland could be made competitive in only a few years, and without the body count of Stalin's Five-Year Plans.
"Meanwhile,
this chapter closes as soon as it began," Sturm sighed, sliding the letter from the East Republic Company to the far end of his desk. "Still, it was thoughtful of them to send a hand-written letter, even if it
was scribed."
"Sir?"
Sturm stretched his arm back across the desk and tapped the bottom of the paper, focusing the aide's attention. "No signature," he explained.
"Back to business as usual then, sir?" Albrecht asked, rhetorically. The general replied with a crooked smile and a knowing look.
At that moment, Oberst van Daimann appeared at the doorway. Sturm perked up at once. "Is it good to go?" he asked eagerly.
"It took us some minor modifications, but the lab tests proved satisfactory."
"Finally, some good news," he breathed. "Alright, round up Langardiologni and get the module shipped out immediately. We're sitting on a time bomb here."
Van Daimann clicked his heels, turned sharply, and proceeded back down the hall.
Dr. Ivan was a mad scientist, no doubt about it; whether that madness was insanity or merely chronic anger, however, the jury was still deliberating. Some thought that the only reason he hadn't already vaulted himself to world supremor was because his Russian "protectors" laid waste to his laboratory so often it was a wonder he didn't opt to refurbish it out of Lego bricks. What remained indisputable was his invaluable contribution to the Grand Alliance in all manner of scientific and technological innovations, even if he was, in the long run, a double-edged sword. His myriad of avant-garde gadgetry so often wound up as the keystones to Rick O'Leigh's latest scheme for world domination, many considered it a miracle that the madman had never once managed to kidnap the scientist responsible for them all. It was Dr. Ivan who created the mythical Formula X-16, that veritable font of magic that had made O'Leigh an ever-present thorn in the Bundesleet's flank for well over a decade.
The allied powers could thus never adequately express their gratitude that the good doctor openly co-operated with them, cranking out antidotes as fast as he unwittingly brewed the poisons. The fix-it that was the current focus of Sturm's attention was his design for "energy containment chambers", prototyped in the early days of the Psi Wars; they were field-portable constructs built to absorb the demonic energy of O'Leigh's latest batch of mutant monstrosities, reducing them to the likes of the usual juiced-up brutes. As Sturm ruefully reminisced, it took a few revisions before they were finally proven combat-ready. But once he'd got it right,
Gott in Himmel, did they do the job; subsequent modifications proved so versatile, they gained the nickname of "magic dampers".
Mobius wasn't Rick's domain, but Langardiologni remained confident the chambers could be adapted to the local brand of Chaos without major alteration to the basic blueprint. The devices might not be able to break down the menacing black pools on their own, but so long as the corruption was
contained, Falke's work would be made that much easier.
CONSTRUCT BLACK ENERGY SILO
Invest 20 #money into Reikland's infrastructure
Pioneer teams debark at designated landing zones; 4 divisions rebase to western frontier: