The Dragon Takes to the Sea

The Bohai Sea was a vast expanse of grey, choppy water under a matching grey sky. It was a dour, uninspiring day, but for the men gathered on the decks of the two vessels floating there, it was the most important day of their lives. On one vessel, a converted but luxurious steam yacht, stood Qin Shi Huang, Li Hongzhang, and the shell-shocked German delegation. On the other, sitting low and menacing in the water, was the reason for their gathering: the Tianlong, the Heavenly Dragon, the first of the Emperor's new class of battleships.

It was a monster of grey steel, its lines cleaner and more predatory than any ship the world had ever seen. Its ram bow hinted at an ancient, brutal purpose, but its high forecastle, uncluttered decks, and the rational, terrifying placement of its main armament spoke of a future of unimaginable destructive power. It looked less like a product of its time and more like a visitor from another century.

On the bridge of the Tianlong, Admiral Meng Tian was in his element. The weariness of his time as a colonial governor had vanished, replaced by the sharp, focused energy of a commander in absolute control of the most powerful weapon on the planet. The bridge itself was a marvel of spartan efficiency, all brass speaking tubes, gleaming telegraphs, and thick, armored shutters.

"Engine room, report status," Meng Tian's voice was crisp, cutting through the low hum of the ship's machinery.

A voice, distorted and metallic, replied instantly from a brass speaking tube. "Turbines at optimal temperature, Admiral. Steam pressure is green across the board. We are ready to engage on your command."

"Very well," Meng Tian said, a flicker of excitement betraying his stoic composure. "All stations, stand by for high-speed trials. Helmsman, all engines ahead full. Engage the new turbines. Now."

On the deck of the observation yacht a few miles away, Count von Schlieffen, the German naval architect, raised his heavy Zeiss binoculars to his eyes. He and his engineers had seen the blueprints. They had seen the impossible numbers and the revolutionary designs. But to see the finished product in the flesh, a living thing of steel and steam, was another matter entirely. He watched as the Tianlong began to move.

It did not build speed in the ponderous, stately manner of every other battleship in the world. It seemed to leap forward, digging its stern into the sea as a massive, churning white wake erupted behind it. The revolutionary new turbines, built with technologies the Germans themselves did not yet possess, were engaging.

"Incredible," von Schlieffen whispered to his aide, his voice filled with a mixture of professional awe and deep, national dread. "The acceleration… it is like a torpedo boat, not a battleship of thirty thousand tons displacement. What is her speed?"

A junior German officer, his face pale, frantically worked a stopwatch and a stadimeter, taking readings from the rapidly shrinking form of the battleship. He did the quick calculation, checked it twice, and looked at his superior with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Mein Gott… Count…" he stammered. "She is making… thirty-one knots. It is impossible. No ship of this size should be able to move so fast."

Thirty-one knots. The number was absurd. The fastest battleships in the British Royal Navy, the pride of the seas, could barely manage eighteen knots on a good day. This ship was nearly ten knots faster. It was a speed that made all other capital ships on earth obsolete in a single, terrifying instant. It meant the Tianlong could choose its battles, run down any foe, and escape from any superior force at will. Von Schlieffen felt a cold knot of fear form in his stomach. The ship they had helped bring into being, the alliance they had so eagerly sought, had produced a vessel that had exceeded even their most terrifying projections.

On the deck of his own vessel, Qin Shi Huang watched the display of power, a calm, deeply satisfied smile on his face. He turned to a naval officer operating a new, crackling wireless telegraph machine. "Send a message to Admiral Meng," he commanded. "A satisfactory result. Proceed to gunnery trials."

The message was relayed across the water in an instant. On the bridge of the Tianlong, Meng Tian received it. Miles away, a decommissioned old Qing cruiser, a relic of the previous age, was moored as a target, a lamb waiting for the slaughter.

"Fire control, report range to the target," Meng Tian commanded.

The voice from the speaking tube was filled with excitement. "Range twenty-four thousand yards, Admiral!"

"Twenty-four thousand…" Meng Tian repeated, a sense of awe in his own voice. It was a range that was, until this very moment, considered a fantasy, a gunner's wild dream. "Unthinkable. Very well. Port battery, you have the target solution. Commence firing when ready."

The massive, fourteen-inch guns in the Tianlong's forward two turrets elevated with a smooth, hydraulic hum. They were not pointing at the target; they were pointing at the sky, calculating a high, parabolic arc. Then, with a deafening, concussive roar that shook the very air and seemed to punch a hole in the sky, they fired. The six massive shells, each weighing as much as a small carriage, were hurled into the heavens.

On the observation ship, the Germans watched in stunned silence. Their own best Krupp naval guns had an effective range of less than 20,000 yards. The Tianlong was firing from a distance where it could not be hit back, a position of absolute impunity.

The shells were in the air for almost a minute. Then, the sea around the distant target cruiser erupted in a series of six colossal waterspouts, so close they drenched the old ship's decks. They had perfectly bracketed the target on the very first salvo, a display of almost unbelievable accuracy thanks to the Zeiss-inspired rangefinders and the stable, powerful propellant QSH had designed.

"Salvo two, fire for effect," Meng Tian ordered, his voice cold and steady.

The guns roared again. This time there was no bracketing. Two of the shells slammed directly into the midsection of the target cruiser. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the old ship seemed to swell from within before vanishing in a catastrophic, brilliant orange explosion of fire, smoke, and twisted metal. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left but a few burning pieces of wreckage bobbing on the waves.

Count von Schlieffen slowly lowered his binoculars, his hands shaking slightly. He looked at the empty space where a ship had been moments before, destroyed from a distance he had considered impossible by a ship moving at a speed he had considered a fantasy.

"We have created a monster," he whispered to his aide, his voice hollow. "We have given a god a thunderbolt."

Later that day, in the spacious wardroom of the observation yacht, Qin Shi Huang met with the subdued German delegation. The mood was no longer one of partnership between equals; it was one of supplication before an undeniable master.

"As you have seen, Count," QSH said, his tone pleasant but with an underlying edge of iron, "our… collaboration… has borne magnificent fruit. The Tianlong is the first of her class. Three more will be launched within the year."

"Your Majesty," von Schlieffen replied, his voice still holding a note of awe, "what you have built today… it changes everything. The world's naval balance has been overturned. The Kaiser will be… most pleased… to know our alliance is with such a formidable naval power."

"Indeed," QSH said with a cold smile. "And this formidable power is now prepared to act. Admiral Meng has completed his operational plans for Operation Southern Serpent. Our new fleet will soon have a task, and our new industries will soon have the resources they desperately require."

QSH had his weapon. It was faster, stronger, and deadlier than anything else on the planet. The successful sea trial was the final piece he needed to put his grand plan into motion. His gaze was now fixed firmly on the south, on the Dutch East Indies, and the rubber and oil they held. The era of proxy wars and subtle manipulation was drawing to a close. The era of direct, overwhelming conquest was about to begin.