International arms procurement contracts are always full of hidden traps. If a few optional add on charges are not built in, then it hardly counts as competent arms dealing. By comparison, the Holy Roman government, as the seller, had already acted in relatively good faith. They did not play tricks with the airships and even included a large quantity of spare parts at no extra cost. Even so, no seller could entirely avoid opening up supplementary paid services, and this case was no exception. Experience had shown that transport airships needed more than sheer carrying capacity. They required protection. Against enemy aircraft, transport airships had extremely low survivability and had to be escorted by fighters. Unfortunately, the chronically cash strapped Russian government could not afford an air force, that lofty and expensive new branch of the military. Aside from a single token flying detachment meant to save face, it simply could not shoulder escort duties. Had the Japanese forces on the other side not been equally short of funds and similarly limited in aircraft numbers, the Russian army would have suffered far heavier losses long ago. So far the damage had not been catastrophic, but two transport airships on the front had already been shot down, forcing the airship transport unit to suspend operations. As the saying goes, it is easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to return from luxury to frugality, and the Russian army was no exception. Before the airship transport unit existed, no one felt much difference. Now that it existed and then suddenly could no longer be used, frontline officers naturally grew restless. Since the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War, Russian forces had been under constant pressure from the Japanese. It was only after smuggling expanded rapidly and the airship transport unit was introduced that the downward spiral was finally reversed. Those good days had not lasted long before being cut off again, and the senior leadership of the Russian army could not accept that. Under the influence of the butterfly effect, Russia had been engaged in frequent wars over the past few decades, which in turn raised the overall quality of its officer corps. Both professional expertise and combat experience were far richer than in the original timeline. To resolve the problem once and for all, the Russian command in the Far East decided to seize air superiority and drew up a comprehensive operational plan. All that was missing was an air force. In theory, the Russian Empire was also capable of building fighter aircraft and even possessed several high-performance models of so-called domestically developed designs. In principle, priority should have been given to domestic firms. Unfortunately, these so-called high-performance products all suffered from one flaw or another. Not only did their spare parts have to be imported, even production and assembly relied on foreign manufacturers for contract work. There was no alternative. Everyone rushed to profitable ventures, while money losing businesses attracted no interest. The Russian government was short of funds and incapable of building a large air force. Civil aviation was not widespread either, so there was no incentive for private investment in aircraft factories, not even assembly plants. The so-called domestic production amounted to little more than a wildly imaginative designer, and it was not even clear whether the designs truly belonged to him. Without exception, as one of the semi-industrialized states, the Russian Empire was also a nation of imitators. The difference was that others focused on improving performance, reducing production costs, or adapting products to local habits and aesthetics. Russian industry was different. Performance was not the primary goal. Improving daily life was not a priority either. Optimizing product performance was out of the question. The belief that it was better to buy than to build had long taken root. If not for the chance to extract subsidies from the Russian government or secure preferential policies, almost no one would bother engaging in industry at all. In this environment, the only objective was to get the product made. Everything else was secondary. This was not due to a lack of ambition, but because the supporting industrial ecosystem could not keep up, and the quality of the workforce lagged behind as well. Forget advanced components. Even screws with moderately high-precision requirements had to be imported. It was not that they could not be produced, but that the yield rate was abysmal. This was the origin of Russia’s reputation for products that are “ugly, bulky and lacking refinement”. It was not a deliberate choice, but a limitation of capability. To ensure basic usability, sacrifices had to be made elsewhere. As a result, performance was nothing to count on. The only consistently praised trait was durability and toughness. Even this advantage had strict limits. It applied only to ordinary industrial goods and was unsuitable for any high-precision products. Aircraft, as high-technology systems, were an even clearer example. Russia could only produce first generation wooden aircraft. By this time, the most popular aircraft internationally had already transitioned to metal alloys, and not a single core technology in that field was something Russia could reliably master. If Russia attempted domestic production, almost all components would have to be imported. Performance could not be guaranteed, but costs would certainly rise. In wartime, this was clearly not the moment to put on a brave face. Rather than forcing through a domestic fighter program full of uncertainty, it made far more sense to purchase finished aircraft directly. At the very least, the main fighter models equipped by the Holy Roman Empire’s air force were produced in runs of hundreds or even thousands and had already stood the test of time. Lightly tapping the armrest with his fingers, Nicholas II frowned and asked, “How many aircraft are you planning to purchase? What budget will be required? And how will the crews be handled?” Time is the best teacher. After more than a decade on the throne, Nicholas II was no longer the inexperienced youth he once was. He might still be some distance from becoming a truly capable ruler, but basic matters of common sense could no longer be brushed past him. In fact, the question of purchasing fighter aircraft was not being raised for the first time. The importance of air superiority was self-evident. If it could be secured, no one would willingly give it up. In the past, however, such discussions had always ended without result for one reason or another. Knowing full well that difficulties lay ahead, the military naturally had to present a concrete plan now that the issue had resurfaced. Minister of War Yevgeny replied, “Based on intelligence from the front, to seize air superiority we will need at least several hundred aircraft. Given the current international situation, with a war between Britain and Austria likely to break out at any time, replenishment after this purchase will be impossible for a long period. We therefore propose to model our structure on that of the Holy Roman Empire’s air force and form a full air division. Taking expected combat losses into account, we estimate a total requirement of 400 fighter aircraft. The projected procurement budget is roughly between 30 million and 50 million guilders. The exact figure can only be determined after formal negotiations. In aviation, the Holy Roman Empire holds an absolute advantage. Even Britain lags an entire generation behind. As for Japan, with its industrial capacity, simply getting aircraft into the air is already difficult, and performance is out of the question. To deal with them, purchasing near retirement second-hand fighters from the Holy Roman Empire will be sufficient. This will not only reduce costs, but also allow us to obtain aircraft in the shortest possible time. As for aircrews, after the outbreak of the war we commissioned the Holy Roman Empire to help train a group for us. After more than half a year of training, they are now barely adequate for operational use.” (Author’s Note: A Holy Roman Empire air division consists of three regiments. Each regiment includes three flying groups and one maintenance group. Each flying group is composed of three flying squadrons, and each squadron operates eight aircraft. A full division fields a total of 288 aircraft, with more than five thousand personnel including both flight crews and ground staff.) The tone of undisguised contempt made Yevgeny’s disdain for Japan obvious. Even though the Russian Empire itself was not much better off, the sense of innate superiority was impossible to conceal. No one present found this strange. Looking down on Japan was considered normal. Treating Japan as an equal would have been what truly seemed abnormal. The plan itself showed that the Russian army had genuinely improved. Had this been several decades earlier, they would certainly have taken a purely reactive approach, dealing with problems only as they arose, with no advance preparation. Organizing personnel for training as soon as the war broke out was a level of foresight that clearly differed from the rough and improvised style traditionally associated with the Russians. Yet Nicholas II felt no satisfaction. Instead, a deep sense of despair rose within him. A closer look at Yevgeny’s remarks revealed how heavily the Russian army depended on the Holy Roman Empire. If relations between the two ever soured, Russia’s combat effectiveness would likely decline sharply overnight. Knowing this did not change the reality. The Russo-Japanese War was already underway, and Nicholas II could not abandon advanced equipment simply to reduce dependence on the Holy Roman Empire. Purchasing fighter aircraft was only one example. Looking back over the past few decades of foreign wars, almost every conflict had involved importing weapons from neighboring powers. The problem was that this time they were even buying second-hand equipment. That alone was embarrassing enough for the Russian Empire. What irritated Nicholas II even more was how calmly the military spoke of it, as if there were nothing shameful at all. Annoyance aside, time was pressing. Leaving aside the urgency on the front, the international situation alone made delay dangerous. As relations between the Holy Roman Empire and Britain deteriorated, global tensions rose sharply. The smell of gunpowder was in the air everywhere. If an arms procurement agreement was not concluded quickly and the weapons delivered, then once war formally broke out between the two powers, having money would not guarantee access to weapons. The only equipment that could be delivered on short notice was second-hand stock. Placing new orders directly with arms factories would take months at the very least. Fortunately, Nicholas II was unaware of the full reality. Had he discovered that the Russian army was equipped almost entirely with second-hand weapons, he might truly have erupted in fury. In a sense, second-hand equipment was not entirely a bad thing. Not only was it cheaper, but more importantly, its performance was reliable. These days, international arms dealers have countless ways of cheating their clients. Without setting a few traps, one could hardly call oneself a proper arms merchant. Ever since Britain set a bad precedent, standards across the board had declined sharply. A common practice was to strip away part of a weapon’s performance before exporting even the most advanced systems. The more advanced the equipment, the heavier the downgrades, to the point that what was sold could at best be called a high-grade imitation. No matter how close the imitation, a fake can never become the real thing. On the battlefield, when an imitation meets the genuine article, disaster follows in minutes. The Russian army’s large-scale use of second-hand equipment was not a matter of preference. More often, it was because officers and soldiers alike had been burned too many times by domestic bureaucracy. Once officials and businessmen colluded, even already mediocre domestic weapons became completely unreliable. By comparison, second-hand equipment purchased directly from the Holy Roman Empire was far more dependable. Not only had its performance not been deliberately downgraded, its quality had also been proven over time. “Then we will proceed that way,” Nicholas II said flatly. Everyone could see that His Majesty was in low spirits. Low spirits or not, state affairs still had to be handled, especially at such a critical moment, when there was no room for lethargy. Foreign Minister Mikhailovich spoke up, “As the conflict between Britain and Austria continues to intensify, the situation in Europe has grown increasingly tense over the past few days. To avoid being forced to choose sides again, European states have come forward to call for peace. Coastal countries such as the Netherlands and Portugal have been particularly active. As of now, we have received diplomatic notes from eleven countries, urging us to take the lead in maintaining neutrality in order to avoid being drawn into a struggle for hegemony. Given the complexity of the situation, it is difficult to sort through everything at once, so the Ministry of Foreign Affairs has not issued a direct response.” Being the one to take the lead was never easy. European countries all wanted to stay out of the war, yet none was willing to step forward first. That fact alone spoke volumes. The current situation was perfectly clear. Whoever stuck their head out first would bear the brunt of the fire. Thirty years earlier, faced with such an opportunity, Mikhailovich would not have hesitated for a moment before agreeing outright. But things are different now. Although the Russian Empire’s strength continued to grow, its dependence on the Holy Roman Empire was only increasing. The ongoing Russo-Japanese War in particular still required support from the Holy Roman government. It was impossible to stab someone in the back while simultaneously asking them for help. Failing to stay aligned with the other countries would also create serious problems. Without the Russian Empire taking the lead, the idea of multiple states jointly maintaining neutrality would be a complete farce. For one thing, the political and military pressure exerted by the Holy Roman Empire and Britain would still have to be borne by someone. Apart from the Russian Empire, who could shoulder that burden? Even Spain lacked the strength to take on such a role. As for the other states, the point hardly needed to be made. Without sufficient power, meddling recklessly would come at a price. Since no one dared to take the lead, choosing sides became inevitable. Against this backdrop, the Russian Empire’s position was of critical importance. It served as a de facto weather vane for the choices of other European countries. If the Russian government supported the Holy Roman Empire, it would mean no major war on the European continent. Others could simply follow along and cheer, with no need to align themselves with Britain. If, on the other hand, the Russian government supported Britain, then the war would be decided on both land and sea, and the outcome would truly be uncertain. After letting out a sigh, Nicholas II rose from his chair. He paced the room for a few steps and then said with resignation, “Let the Ministry of Foreign Affairs handle it as they see fit. We have no other choice anyway. Make the most of this opportunity to secure greater benefits for the empire. There may not be another chance in the future.” Reality was this harsh. Deeply bound to the Holy Roman Empire, the Russian Empire likewise had no real options left. It could only follow the Holy Roman Empire down this path to the very end.
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