August 1, 1640

Conshal Ocean

Seehund-class Fleet Submarine, GVS Niflheim

“Sir!” A hoarse voice called out, loudly echoing throughout the submarine’s cramped corridors.

The submarine’s captain rubbed his bleary eyes and scratched his rather unkempt beard. “What is it?” He asked, sipping some coffee.

“Passive sonar’s picked up a contact! A large one at that!” The sonar operator announced. “Bearing 60 degrees, six miles out and closing!”

The captain immediately became alert, the threat of battle shaking away all the grogginess in his system. “Can you identify the contact?”

“Unable to identify the contact, sir! Sound signature does not match anything in our library!”

Curious, the captain considered surfacing. Following procedure in accordance with his mission, he asked for confirmation of another condition, “Are there any other contacts in the vicinity?”

The sonar operator listened closely to his equipment, seeing no other changes aside from the large vessel closing in on them. “Nothing in our line of sight, although I cannot hear anything behind the contact.”

The submarine’s second in command brushed his uniform against the captain’s as he walked up to him. “Recommend we wait until the ship passes by before surfacing, sir.”

The captain agreed with this reasoning, but still continued to prepare for battle. “Battle stations! All hands, man your battle stations!”

Faced with increasing Mirishial activity in the Conshal Ocean, the Gra Valkas Empire dispatched submarine fleets to maintain maritime security in their new colonies and deter potential aggressors. Some submarines were even given special orders: to sink lone enemy ships in a bid to damage the enemy war machine as much as possible. The Gra Valkans knew that the EDI had little concept of submarine warfare, and would therefore have great difficulty pinpointing an attack to the Gra Valkans if a lone ship was sunk, or if a small group of ships were annihilated simultaneously.

One such recipient of these orders was Captain Donitz, who now stood anxiously, peering over the sonar operator’s shoulder. He contemplated what the contact could be. The contact’s large profile suggested that it was a warship belonging to either the Mirishials or the Americans, as these were the only factions who could have sent such a massive construct to these waters. Considering the fact that most of the Mirishial profiles had been recorded, he entertained the possibility of the ship being of a new class, perhaps the frightening Orichalcum-class that debuted during the World Leadership Conference. If it was, then the Gra Valkan brass was sure to appreciate the sinking of the Holy Mirishial Empire’s most valuable asset.

Alternatively, the beast above could belong to the Americans, in which case Donitz had the possibility of chipping away at their military prowess without fear of retribution. He knew that the Americans possessed anti-submarine capabilities, but he had confidence in his wolfpack of submarines. There was simply no way a single ship could escape, much less defeat a hungry pack of 6 submarines — especially not at knife-fighting distance.

As soon as the ship passed overhead, the sonar operator provided an update, “There’s one more contact trailing behind the first one. Seems to be an Arleigh-Burke; one of the American destroyers.”

For too long, the Americans had shamed the Gra Valkas Empire. The disgrace had gone so far that even the Emperor himself feared a direct confrontation with the Americans. Cowardice. Donitz understood the tactical reasoning behind fighting one battle at a time, but he couldn’t shake the dishonor that the Americans had brought down upon them. Vengeance was all that mattered to him now.

Donitz grinned. Finally, he had the chance to make the Americans hurt, all the while avoiding the war his Emperor feared. “Helm, proceed to surface level.”

“Wait,” the voice of his second-in-command called out. “Sir, with all due respect, I think this is a bad decision. Attacking American assets directly could result in an international incident! We might start a war!”

A surge of annoyance coursed through Donitz. He understood this concern, but was clouded by his desire for vengeance. He lashed at his subordinate, “We hold all the advantages here! If we strike quickly, these Americans will not have enough time to even react, much less send word back to their comrades! We do this now, and restore honor back to the Gra Valkas Empire! This is my final decision!”

The crew held their breaths, wondering if this argument was going to escalate. Fortunately, it did not.

Satisfied with the silence that reigned in the submarine, he issued his orders once more. “Helm, proceed to the surface!”

“Proceeding to the surface, aye!”

The submarine jolted as the ballast tanks were emptied. It began to ascend, slowly floating up to the surface right behind the Arleigh Burke.

Donitz issued more orders, “Weapons, prepare torpedo tubes one through four. Designate the Arleigh Burke as a priority target.”

“Torpedo tubes one through four, ready to shoot. Designating the Arleigh Burke as a priority target!”

Torpedoes were armed, signified by sounds of sliding metal that reverberated throughout the sub’s hull.

Before Donitz could issue any more orders, a loud ping struck the vessel.

“What the hell?!” He looked around, confused. A thought crossed his mind, but he shook it. There’s no way the Americans could have detected his submarine fleet; he was over five hundred feet below the ocean. On top of that, the significant temperature gradient above his fleet should have been able to conceal their position. He wondered if they somehow detected the emptying of their ballast tanks.

“Sir,” the sonar operator said, “We were just pinged by active sonar! It came from below us, at a depth of more than 1000 feet!”

Donitz slowly began to realize what this implied. As if to confirm his thoughts, a second ping hit his vessel. “Can we identify the contact?”

“No,” the sonar operator said, visibly shaken. “I… I can’t see it at all! It’s gone!”

Donitz felt a shiver crawl down his spine. It was like the enemy submarine was toying with them. “Just what the hell are we dealing with here…?”

Donitz had heard rumors of Americans using guided torpedoes, particularly to defeat sea monsters. If this artificial monster lurking in the depths did belong to the Americans, then not only could their actions result in a state of war, they also might not be able to get back home alive. Rattled to the core, Donitz decided to break away from the engagement. “Cease our pursuit! Comms, inform the pack to break away from the Americans! We will NOT engage them!”

The submarine groaned as it stopped its ascent and turned around, away from the direction of the American ships above. Having come close to the brink of death, Donitz shivered as he watched the contacts fade into the distance. The sound of the pings replayed in his mind as his fleet swam away. Determined as he was to fight back against the Americans, he began to feel doubts about the strength of his country’s military. How could they fight against an invisible foe?

——

August 2, 1640

Ragna, Gra Valkas Empire

The Gra Valkas Empire’s top military leaders gathered around a meeting room, discussing strategies before Emperor Gra Lux, who sat at the head of the table and weighed the words of his advisors.

Caesar shook his head in response to a proposal by Siegs. “Sinking American ships is out of the question. American ships have very distinct sonar profiles, and the United States knows this. If we attack an American ship, we have no excuses; they’ll know it is deliberate and can use this to intervene in our conflict with the EDI.”

“What about their merchant ships? We don’t have accurate profiles for these vessels, so we have a viable excuse when it comes to attacking these allegedly unidentified ships,” Mirkenses posed.

“That… could work,” Siegs conceded, pondering the viability of this underhanded tactic. “Once war breaks out, there will be a lot of movement in the high seas, and it will be difficult to single out merchant ships from the chaotic turbulence of the waters. At that point, it will be their own fault if they intentionally enter an active battlefield.”

As the generals smoothed out the details of their cunning strategy, a messenger burst into the room. Panting and heaving, he held up a paper and apologized for his sudden intrusion. “Sorry for the interruption, but I have a priority report from the Twenty-Second Submarine Fleet!”

Caesar took the report. After dismissing the messenger, he summarized its contents. “The Twenty-Second Submarine Fleet, operating off the coasts of the recently conquered Conshal Islands, encountered an American convoy while on a patrol. They shadowed the surface vessels, only to receive…” Caesar squinted at the report, his words faltering in disbelief. “Uh, only to receive several sonar pings from an invisible submarine, which evidently sent the signals from a depth of almost 500 meters.”

Disbelief, only seconds ago confined to Caesar, had spread to the entire room. Emperor Gra Lux leaned in with curiosity as his subordinates erupted in discussion. Some believed the report to be accurate, due to previous reports on American technologies. Others dismissed it completely.

“500 meters? That’s utter hogwash!” An officer cried out.

“Our submarines can dive a hundred-something meters at most!” Another person added.

Amidst the chaos, Gra Lux held up his hand to silence the room. Conversation died out quickly, and order was restored. “Admiral Roland, could this be some sort of a miscommunication?”

Caesar hesitated, rubbing the back of his head while he gave an initially uncertain response, “Erm, it may very well be a miscommunication. I’m not too sure about this though, since the transmission has a high possibility of being genuine and truthful.” As he talked it through, he became more certain of his answer. “The Twenty-Second Submarine Fleet is the cream of the crop, and we know that the Americans are more advanced than us in many fields. We should take this information at face value and operate accordingly,” Caesar concluded his judgement.

“Then, what shall we do?” Pastall questioned.

To Caesar and the other Great Generals, the answer was obvious. The resignatory looks on their faces reflected all too well what they were thinking. Caesar admitted, “There is not much we can do, unfortunately. For now, we will have to avoid American ships. Deliberately attacking their vessels will only result in the destruction of our submarines, and this is assuming they choose to just retaliate instead of escalating into a full-blown war.”

“But, in that case, how are we supposed to disrupt our foes’ logistics? Are we just supposed to let the Americans send their guns to the Muans?” Pastall asked, feeling like he was losing control over the well-planned invasion of Mu.

Mirkenses shrugged, “We could get lucky, and maybe an American cargo ship strays into a battlefield. I doubt it though.”

Gra Lux voiced his concerns, chin resting atop his clasped hands. “Then, is there no way for us to impede American supply missions?”

The military staff looked at each other with defeated stares. Not even the Three Great Generals could come up with a plan to stop the Americans from beefing up the Muan military. Aside from hoping for a quick blitzkrieg through Mu, any direct action would only result in a war that nobody in the Gra Valkas Empire was prepared for. The atmosphere of the room was bleak.

Then, out of the blue, Director Akkan spoke up, claiming to harbor the solution to all their problems. “I may have something,” he said.

All eyes turned to him, wondering what devious schemes the director of the Gra Valkas Bureau of Information could’ve come up with.

With a sinister grin plastered on his face, Akkan explained, “Over the past few months, I’ve learned a lot about the asymmetrical warfare conducted by our enemies. From the initial attack in Leifor to the resistance put up by the Sonalians, there was no shortage of study material. Needless to say, I was inspired.”

Akkan unfurled a map of Mu and pulled a marker from his fascist-fashioned trench coat. He placed several crosses on Muan ports. His uncanny grin somehow grew larger, unsettling many of the other men and women in the room. “I think it’s about time we give our enemies a taste of their own medicine.”