Abyssus Abyssum Invocat

by Carlo Zen

  Copyright

  The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Vol. 5

  Carlo Zen

  Translation by Emily Balistrieri

  Cover art by Shinobu Shinotsuki

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  YOJO SENKI Vol. 5 Abyssus Abyssum Invocat

  ©Carlo Zen 2016

  First published in Japan in 2016 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.

  English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo, through TUTTLE-MORI AGENCY, INC., Tokyo.

  English translation © 2019 by Yen Press, LLC

  Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Zen, Carlo, author. | Shinotsuki, Shinobu, illustrator. | Balistrieri, Emily, translator. | Steinbach, Kevin, translator.

  Title: Saga of Tanya the evil / Carlo Zen ; illustration by Shinobu Shinotsuki ; translation by Emily Balistrieri, Kevin Steinbach

  Other titles: Yōjo Senki. English

  Description: First Yen On edition. | New York : Yen ON, 2017–

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017044721 | ISBN 9780316512442 (v. 1 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316512466 (v. 2 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316512480 (v. 3 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316560627 (v. 4 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316560696 (v. 5 : pbk.)

  Classification: LCC PL878.E6 Y6513 2017 | DDC 895.63/6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017044721

  ISBNs: 978-0-316-56069-6 (paperback)

  978-0-316-56070-2 (ebook)

  E3-20190219-JV-NF-ORI

  [chapter] O A Letter Home

  Dear Mother and Grandmother,

  How are you doing? I hope you are both well.

  Summer has ended, so it must be nearly time for the chilly autumn wind to start blowing. Please take care not to catch a cold.

  I’m doing fine.

  But please forgive me for not being able to write any details…not even the current date or location.

  I’ve told you before, but…it’s regulation.

  Don’t be alarmed, but the list of things we can’t put in letters was updated again just the other day!

  We can’t say what type of bread we ate!

  We can’t say what type of meat (beef, pork, chicken, mutton) we ate!

  We can’t say the exact date we received your letters!

  There are so many restrictions, it’s hard to keep them all straight.

  I can say that I miss your apple pie, Grandma, but if I say whether or not I’ve eaten apple pie here, it would be deemed “leaking military secrets” or something.

  I’m trying to be careful as I write, but it’s possible that part of it will be blacked out by the censors.

  Still, nothing major has happened here, so please don’t worry about me. Honestly, it’s frustrating to not be able to say what I’d like to.

  Right now, my unit is training and getting reorganized. That much my superior officer (who informed me I’m not allowed to share their name) said I could write, so no worries.

  We don’t know where we’ll be deployed next.

  So I don’t have much to say.

  With love from a base in a location I can’t disclose,

  Mary Sue

  [chapter] I Rapid Advance

  AUGUST 28, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, EASTERN FRONT, FIRST-CLASS CAR

  From the southern continent to a long-range reconnaissance mission in Federation territory. At the conclusion of that journey, there was a direct attack on Moskva, and right when I thought I would get to head to the rear, I was transferred to participate in an air battle west of the Rhine front. The moment I figured things would settle down a bit, I was ordered to form a Kampfgruppe.

  After following orders that yanked me all over the place—south, east, west—I ended up joining the battle in the east.

  We were given the supporting role of escorting the main forces on their advance, but as we were gradually pushed farther east into Federation territory, my Kampfgruppe received yet another new order.

  “…So we’re being reassigned?”

  “That’s right, Colonel von Degurechaff. It’s a shame we have to lose you and your Salamander Kampfgruppe, but we can’t keep you when you belong to the General Staff.”

  A high-ranking officer in the Eastern Army Group informed me with a resigned them’s-the-breaks smile that we were suddenly being sent elsewhere. Well, reassignment orders are almost always “sudden” to the people on the ground.

  But Tanya sensed something slightly strange.

  “Sorry you have to keep moving around like this, but do your best.”

  The comments she got from the Eastern Army Group staffers with a pat on the back were decisive.

  They were heartfelt words of consolation about Tanya and her unit’s transfer. Frankly, that’s not the kind of thing said by staff officers who have just had troops suddenly pulled from their lines.

  A Kampfgruppe reporting directly to the General Staff getting pulled out is simply the result of a properly functioning Imperial Army. No one can object to it. Moving its own unit from the A lines to the B lines is the General Staff’s prerogative.

  But if you think about it this way, everything makes sense.

  It’s simple to understand if you imagine us as a skilled anesthesiologist. The General Staff is a university hospital that dispatched their anesthesiologist upon the request of a private hospital, which would be the Eastern Army Group. If the university announced to the impoverished, understaffed regional hospital that it was pulling out its anesthesiologist…it would be weird not to encounter some protest, right?

  And yet the officers here were calmly passing on the orders without any fuss? That had to mean they had known about this for quite some time.

  The only one who didn’t realize was me. It’s probably correct to suspect that I was being informed at the last possible minute.

  I was rushed through the handoff (yes, there was time for a handoff, so there was definitely some advance consideration that went into this plan), and before I knew it, I was rocking along on some train.

  The efficiency of all the arrangements makes Tanya sick. These reassignment orders came down without any delays or other trouble, no missed messages.

  But despite all the preparations (it should probably be said), the reality of it being a reassignment from the front lines can’t be ignored. For example, thinks Tanya with a sigh as she looks around the first-class train car.

  The train ticket certainly says “first class,” but this is a passenger car of an armored train on a military-use line for delivering supplies and personnel to th
e front. “First class” means you’re lucky enough to have a seat.

  Considering the supply line situation, it could be considered surprising the higher-ups even allowed for a first-class train car. Granted, the facilities available for travelers on board are scanty. It’s something else entirely from a first-class car back home. At the end of August, with summer ending and autumn about to begin, the temperature in the Federation is cool enough that the lack of air-conditioning is tolerable.

  Still, though they call this a sleeping car, the only furnishings included in the sparse compartment are a wooden bench to lie down on and a sturdy desk. And the bench is so small that if you weren’t short like me, it would be quite a tight fit.

  “If I were home in the Reich, I would have sworn at them. ‘Do you think you’re transporting cattle?’”

  Really, it’s hard to deny the possibility that some planners may very well have requisitioned an actual livestock transport car. In any case, calling it first class is absurd. At the same time, even with all those faults, there is a truth that mustn’t be overlooked: One of our trains is up and running incredibly close to the front lines. Our forces must have performed quick maintenance on the rails in occupied enemy territory—evidence that both the Service Corps and the Railroad Department are doing their best. You could say it’s possible to catch a glimpse of the supply situation on this trip.

  Though it might not be related…a good example of this is how the food tastes relatively good.

  When a sandwich on bread that wasn’t stale and coffee were served for lunch, Tanya was elated to an embarrassing degree.

  And surprisingly, a newspaper was provided after the meal. When Tanya looks at the date—don’t be alarmed—it reads August 28; in other words, it’s today’s paper.

  It may be afternoon now, but it’s possible to have the morning’s paper delivered to the forward-most positions.

  That in itself speaks volumes to the determination of the Imperial Service Corps in fighting the logistics battle.

  On the other hand, Tanya has a mind to complain as she grumbles to herself.

  “I get that this is wartime coverage, but what garbage…”

  Saving paper and keeping military secrets are important, but the newspapers in the rear are a bit too far removed from the real world. What appears to be reader reactions to the ridiculously titled column “Life of the Brave Soldiers on the Front Lines” in particular makes Tanya crack up.

  “As usual, it’s too censored and too full of propaganda. I can’t help but think it would be better to tell the home front what it’s actually like on the front lines.”

  This drivel they call patriotic sentiments in the form of letters from schoolchildren. The fact that they have so many writing in… Well, it’s probably not a bad way to boost fighting spirit. But apparently, schoolchildren these days know all the abbreviations and slang the troops use on the front lines.

  Their knowledge is comprehensive enough that I want to burst out laughing as I read.

  “You’re going to post reactions to this fake news? Okay, then.”

  The more I read, the more suspect it seems. It’s like they’re not even trying to hide the fact that only one person wrote them all—it’s obvious when a bunch of boys and girls use the exact same phrasing. The most telling part, though, is that the openings have long since been written according to a template. This is an awfully careless way to fight an information war.

  “…The Federation and Commonwealth are probably better at this sort of thing.”

  Well, I guess there’s no good way to beat liars at their own game. Tanya sips coffee from the military-use pseudo mug and sighs. It’s good that the Imperial Army is aware of how important information warfare is.

  But if the method they choose lacks sophistication, it’ll only backfire.

  “Sheesh, having time on your hands is poison for someone who lives to work.”

  It’s not strange that Tanya’s complaining.

  Seeing other people’s sloppy work is bizarrely irritating. Looking out the window with nothing to do, she sees a vast wasteland.

  It’s currently the tail end of August. The sun is shining gently, leaving the weather too comfortable to associate the east with mud.

  But Tanya doesn’t attempt to hide her annoyance with the massive expanse of land that seems to go on forever, even when viewed through her binoculars.

  For crying out loud. If we try to take this huge swath of land, the army will be spent. Despite massing the majority of our forces on this front, we don’t have the manpower to cover it all.

  This is like dashing into a tunnel without knowing if there is an exit or not… Having thought that far, Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff smiles wryly, though it’s out of character for her.

  I guess the view out a train window invites people to think in an unusual, meandering way.

  Still, Tanya ends up pondering a certain point anyway.

  There’s been a thought smoldering inside her for a while now.

  In the history books of Earth that I know, the German army was fated to melt away on the eastern front. The reason was simple: They took too many losses at each position along their overstretched lines.

  That war of attrition was fatal. In this world, the Empire’s human resources haven’t dried up yet. But the phrase haven’t dried up yet applies only to the present. It’s not a guarantee for the future.

  Still, that’s assuming events here match what happened during World War II. In the First World War that I remember, Germany won in the east, managing to push the lines forward.

  To be frank, the Empire is winning in the west at the moment. That doesn’t mean we have to lose in the east, though. Same as before, it’s not obvious which way this battle will go.

  Objectively speaking, we still have a definitive chance at victory. Of course, we could lose as well.

  “…I suppose I have to admit that I don’t know.”

  True, we can say, Well, that’s how war is and leave it at that, but I really don’t like this uncertain outlook. Fog of war is an apt turn of phrase.

  The wise men who came before me must have really cursed this fog.

  Still, it’d be nice if I could see through it.

  It’s only natural to want to know what lies ahead on the path you’re walking, right? What’s at the end of the dark tunnel?

  Apparently, a funny tale they tell in this Communist country says that beyond the darkness lie hopes and dreams.

  Tanya can only answer with a sigh. Sadly, here in the east, the answer is always the same. Believing in hopes and dreams, you go through the tunnel and just find snow country. If this were some atmospheric work of literature, it would surely be a delightful discovery.

  But reality isn’t as beautiful. Works of art often smooth over imperfections. In real life, there is no fantastic scenery to behold. Only muddy snow country.

  That’s the morass the Imperial Army unconsciously dives into.

  It’s an unpleasant sight. If we knew the way forward, we wouldn’t have to suffer so much. We’re so in the dark that it’s hard to know what to expect. How dreadful.

  “Hmm? Oh, I guess we’re almost at a stop. Surprising that they built one in the middle of the massive eastern front. The Railroad Department is doing quite a thorough job.”

  Marveling at the sound marking their deceleration and the high-pitched whistle, Tanya picks up the newspaper and starts reading again. Perhaps due to the current war, the quality of the paper seems awfully low, but it’s still not as bad as the content.

  Setting aside politics and society, Tanya notices that even the culture section of the paper is focused on raising morale via a feature on charity concerts. Having the people come together and sing patriotic songs probably isn’t a bad way to increase their sense of belonging to the group, but…I’d like to see actual concerts continue, too.

  This is why foreign media bitingly covers “concerts in the Empire” and reports that they’re “patriot c
onventions” rather than places to appreciate music.

  “I’m not in a position to comment on cultural policy, but… Hmm?”

  Right before Tanya sinks back into her thoughts, a precise knock sounds on the door.

  “First Lieutenant Serebryakov, requesting permission to enter, ma’am.”

  “That’s fine. Come in.”

  “Excuse me, Colonel. We’ve received word from the home country via the station.”

  Lieutenant Serebryakov pops into the cabin with brisk movements. In her hand is one of the thick envelopes the General Staff tends to use for sealed mail.

  “From the home country?”

  “Yes, Colonel. It’s from the General Staff. And…someone who has just boarded the train is here to see you.”

  “Someone here? To see me?”

  “That’s no way to greet an old classmate, Colonel von Degurechaff.”

  Tanya is about to open the envelope when the familiar voice makes its way inside; realizing whose it is, Tanya leaps to her feet.

  How nice to see an old face. The man stands in the entrance to the compartment with a smile to hide how utterly exhausted he is.

  “I’ve come to bug you. You’ll have to forgive me entering a lady’s sleeping compartment.”

  “What a surprise. I never expected my esteemed colleague Lieutenant Colonel Uger to barge in on me. Don’t you know there’s an etiquette when visiting a woman’s room? If your wife knew you had such bad manners, she would surely be disappointed.”

  “Oh dear, to think I would upset even my beloved wife and child. What a pesky business military duties are. But orders must be followed—I’ll just have to curse my misfortune.”

  We exchange friendly quips as we salute each other.

  But he was supposed to laugh boldy. Unfortunately, Colonel Uger doesn’t seem to be equipped with a proper sense of humor. Perhaps he didn’t serve enough time on the front lines.

  Colonel Uger isn’t the type to banter or make jokes naturally, and it seems he missed out on the opportunity to cultivate better comedic sensibilities on the battlefield.

  “Ha-ha-ha. I hope this will be enough compensation to have you pretend this never happened.”