Tyranny Of Steel Chapter 1256 Space Elevators And Paganism



Hans was seated in his office, carefully reviewing the reports from the German Space Program. Decades had elapsed since humankind first ventured into space during Berengar's era, and in that time, the German Empire had achieved tremendous progress in colonizing the solar system. 

Functional colonies now thrived on the Moon and Mars. Mankind had made its inaugural stride toward venturing into the vast cosmos lying beyond Earth's limits. Fortunately, none of the German outposts beyond Earth had suffered any grave catastrophes. Had that been the case, public enthusiasm for the aerospace sector would have plummeted dramatically. 

Nevertheless, Hans was immersed in an entirely separate endeavor. A project designed to grant far simpler entry to space. Breakthroughs in material science—like the widespread adoption of graphene and its composites in construction and tech sectors—had rendered once-fantastical structures feasible. 

The initiative Hans had greenlit consisted of three phases. He planned to construct space elevators on Earth, the Moon, and Mars. These would dramatically slash travel durations between the three heavenly bodies while simplifying the shipment of resources from Mars and the Moon back to Earth. 

Projections indicated at least twenty-five years to erect even one space elevator—starting with Earth's, near New Swabia. Yet Hans was certain that sufficient resources and workforce could hasten its finish. Naturally, the immense fortunes of the German Reich and the von Kufstein dynasty easily footed the bill. 

In truth, the German Reich commanded most of the Americas and Africa directly, alongside substantial sway over Asia via binding pacts. Not forgetting the riches mined from space itself. 

The Reich's resource reserves were practically inexhaustible, eliminating any need to source raw materials abroad—a move that sharply reduced space elevator construction expenses. 

As Hans examined the spending logs for ongoing builds, his phone rang. A quick look at the caller ID revealed it was one of his brothers. He promptly set the report aside and took the call, tracing back to the Nordic Empire ruled by his younger sibling Kristoffer. 

A tone of perfect stoicism marked Hans's voice as he voiced the query that sprang instantly to mind. 

"What's up Kris? It must be something important if you're calling me, of all people." 

Though Hans and Kristoffer were adults in their forties, lingering tensions from youth persisted—chiefly their father's clear partiality toward Hans. This kept them distant. It might even be advantageous, given their tendency to spark trivial arguments during talks. 

The rift ran so deep that, as leaders of allied powers, Hans and Kris preferred dealing with each other's aides over direct brotherly contact. For Kris to phone Hans out of the blue without prior notice, a grave matter had surely arisen—one Hans swiftly articulated. 

"I'd like to ask you for a personal favor, not that you are inclined to give me such respect. But I need you to stop your people from illegally crossing my border. I don't know what is going on, but a bunch of Germans are entering Jutland in search of something related to the ancient pagan deities that they worship. And they're causing a lot of fucking problems with the local Christians.

Denmark is in a state of unrest because of it, and I might have to march my forces down there to deal with it if you don't!" 

Hans heaved a profound sigh upon hearing this. Despite amicable ties between the nations, formidable military forces lined the boundary separating Germany's Schleswig-Holstein from Denmark's domain within the Nordic Empire. 

If intruders were breaching that border barrier, it signaled military facilitation. Periodically, some sleazy rogue ascended to authority and brewed chaos. Such was humanity's innate drive to exploit power. 

Thus, the German Reich waged an unending battle to purge corrupt elements from governmental and civilian roles alike. Realizing corruption's resurgence, Hans pinched the bridge of his nose to steady his nerves before addressing his brother's accusation. 

"I'll investigate this matter... Thanks for bringing it to my attention. I swear that in two weeks' time, the culprit behind this will face a court martial and execution. Is there anything more you require, or should I return to my duties?" 

Kristoffer let out a deep sigh, fully aware that he and his elder half-brother stood little chance of ever meshing in this lifetime. Despite his urge to cut off the call with that jerk, some family topics still needed airing out. 

"I caught sight of the old man on television recently. How's his health holding up?" 

Hans looked thoroughly irritated by the query, answering in a voice dripping with weary cynicism. 

"He's damn ancient. What kind of shape do you suppose he's in? Given the old timer's leisure pursuits, it wouldn't shock me if he keeled over from a heart attack any moment now mid-tryst with Brynhildr. That woman's still cranking out babies, you know? How many is it? Their thirtieth? Thirty-fifth maybe? Hell if I can recall..."

Kristoffer merely sneered at the suggestion before sharing his take on it. 

"Well, she's immortal after all, and Father's nature is no secret. Picture Iceland five centuries ahead, with battle angel blood coursing through every vein there."

Exhaustion rang clear in Hans' voice as he voiced what felt most pressing in that instant. 

"I don't even want to fucking think about that... Jesus, right now I'm handling the fallout from his tolerance decree for Pagans. The Church seems to be relenting, yet its fiercer factions aim to stamp out paganism before it roots deeply in the nation. Tomorrow I'll confer with Ludolf to make sure the church halts its aggressions. 

But damn it all, we both know those pagan deities exist. It's everything I've got not to scream at the Christians that their faith is false, even though it underpins our society. I sometimes ponder what chaos would ensue if Paganism fully supplanted Christianity across the Reich..." 

A touch of unease tinged Kristoffer's words as he delved into these notions on the topic. 

"I truly hope it doesn't come to that. Should it, the martial fervor that faded after Father's rule would blaze anew in your folk. They'd set out to conquer every land, making the whole world German. None of us could halt it." 

Hans sighed anew before addressing his sibling's concerns in a fatigued tone. 

"Maybe Christianity's peacefulness is essential, or maybe it dooms us entirely. I don't give a damn which faith dominates, provided my citizens act as sensible, reasonable folks. Yet they remain devout, forcing me to convene with church leaders now. 

It's been pleasant chatting, little brother. But duty calls—this cursed space elevator won't construct itself." 

Kristoffer hadn't a clue what a space elevator meant, and he had no desire to keep Hans any longer. He offered a simple goodbye prior to ending the connection. 

"Farewell, Hans. We'll talk again shortly, I'm certain."

Those words exchanged, Hans reclined and mulled over the thorny question of paganism's resurgence among Germans. Finally, he tabled it for later and dove back into the Space Elevator's budget summary.