Assault on the Franz-Xaver

27th of November, 1939: The Ostend Company merchant vessel Sankt Franz-Xaver was enroute to Korean territory with a supply delivery from Imperial holdings on Concord Minor. As a civilian entity, the company was allowed to pass through American jump lanes uninhibited, but their chartered status made many see them as just another part of the HRE war machine. This gray area made many gate workers a bit more flexible with their duties to safe transportation, netting a secondary income by leaking flight plans for outgoing company vessels. The Franz-Xaver’s route was going to encounter some unwelcome wayfarers.

As the ship passed through the thermosphere over the Pacific, a distress signal from a malfunctioning vessel was picked up a few kilometers off of their route. The code was Russian, and the XO ordered the vessel to divert and investigate. While he believed the code was genuine, he ordered the shields to be raised to play it safe. That decision was a prudent one, as once they diverted course, the seemingly crippled ship roared to life, as small forward guns opened fire. The rogue ship declared its callsign shortly after; Kazedamaru, a Japanese raiding vessel.

The Ostend vessel spun to broadside hoping to utilize its heavy guns, directly striking the raider’s shields with a full volley. The Japanese ship’s generator was not very strong, with their outer defenses dimming just from one salvo, but they did not deviate from their full speed advance. They returned fire with their weaker bow guns, the crew within bracing for their quarry’s next shots. By this time the Franz-Xaver’s Captain Lovasz was awakened from his rest, assuming command in time to realize what the enemy was up to; the Kazedamaru was a ramming vessel. They engaged their engines at full as they attempted to dodge, firing their second volley and disabling the Japanese shields. Two shots impacted the forward armor, glancing off the reinforced structure of the bow. The Franz-Xaver’s evasive maneuvers prevented a center-mass collision, but the raiders impacted near the engines, crippling the ship’s mobility. Crunching steel and the screams of forcibly ejected sailors fell on the deaf ears of the aether, as the Japanese locked onto their target with an anchoring crane.

The Imperial deck crew was meanwhile scrambling to assess the situation. Engineering had gone quiet, and while external communications were operating fine, the Japanese had somehow disrupted their short-range radio. He sent runners to gather the Seebataillon, as well as to command all starboard gun crews to keep firing. Minutes passed as men flocked in every direction, the guns falling increasingly silent as the enemy moved aboard unseen. As Captain Lovasz was ordering men near the inner bulkhead, he heard a loud thunk behind him from the view port. A Japanese marine was outside on the hull, gesturing to the reinforced glass with a large, glowing plasma axe.