Abyssus Abyssum Invocat

by Carlo Zen

  Rules, rules, rules.

  What a stickler.

  He’s like an RPG villager who only repeats his programmed lines. I really start to wonder if all he can say is It’s the rules, so you may not enter.

  So Tanya speaks up with determination. “You must be joking! I’m an officer! Can you not see these?” She points at the insignia on her collar and shoulder and even thrusts her General Staff braid at him, but he doesn’t react at all.

  “With all due respect, ma’am, the rules prohibit it.”

  “Sorry, Corporal. As far as I know, there’s no rule against officers making use of the officers’ club.”

  “That’s true, Colonel, but the law prohibits minors from smoking and drinking!”

  “Huh?” The question slips out of her throat in spite of herself as she scowls at him.

  What did he…What did he just say?

  “S-smoking and drinking?”

  Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff is a high-ranking officer who adheres strictly to the rules. Naturally, she is more than well aware of the age restrictions on smoking and drinking.

  She doesn’t drink or smoke.

  Of all the things to say…

  “Should I just take that as an insult, Corporal? Who’s trying to smoke or drink?! I’m just telling you to let me into the bar!”

  “My sincere apologies, Colonel von Degurechaff. Your intent is not at issue! It’s purely your age!”

  “I’m here on military business!”

  The words age restrictions disappear when it comes to military business. How could the younger guys fight in the night battles if they had to follow the curfew?! At that point, every last high-ranking officer would have to be dishonorably discharged for aiding and abetting public morality violations.

  “It’s possible I’m uninformed on the matter, but I haven’t heard any ludicrous stories about officers of units fighting in no-man’s-land on the Rhine front being indicted by the Ministry of the Interior for commanding minors.”

  “Huh? Colonel?”

  “On military business, the military laws of the Imperial Army take precedence! At a military facility, military law should be applied, no?”

  “My apologies, ma’am, but this isn’t a military facility! It was established with private capital, so please understand that, legally, minors are strictly prohibited from entering at night!”

  When Tanya asks for clarification, the corporal unflinchingly provides the basis for his assertion.

  The moment she hears it—aha!—she understands why he has been repeating, “It’s the rules. You can’t enter,” even if she doesn’t accept it.

  It’s a problem of interpretation.

  Apparently, because the bar is operated by civilians…this corporal doesn’t view it as a military facility. But, Tanya smiles.

  She’s quite confident in her legal interpretations.

  “The officers’ club is funded with private capital. In other words, people who pay the monthly officers’ club dues have the right to use it.”

  Just like mandatory insurance, the dues are deducted every month from her wages. They force me to pay club dues! Tanya is therefore compelled to insist on her rights.

  As a free individual, she must protect her rights.

  I don’t care about alcohol or tobacco in particular, but I’m determined to defend my rights from being violated with everything I have. That’s the duty of a free individual in modern times. I’ve got to get bastards like Being X and other numbskull idiots to understand the concept of sacred, inviolable rights.

  “I have the right to make use of the facilities.” So Tanya doesn’t back down. “I’d like you to let me use them.”

  “I don’t mean to deny your right to use the officers’ club! But I can’t make the call about your use of the bar inside.”

  So you’re going to put up a fight, then? They stand in conflict, frowning at each other.

  To Tanya, this futile argument is only a waste of time. She glances at her watch and sees it is nearly time to meet the others.

  Of course, officers come five minutes early.

  People are waiting for me…, Tanya laments in her head.

  Even if it’s Weiss, Visha, and Grantz from her battalion, making people wait itself is extremely irritating to someone who is punctual.

  Tanya’s delicate sensibilities can’t endure any more time wasting.

  “…This is an official warning, Corporal. Did you get an explicit order from your direct superior to not let minors in? Or are you refusing me on your own discretion?”

  She asks if it’s him or his superior.

  If it’s his own discretion, she’s determined to push past him without hesitation.

  From experience, Tanya knows that you should handle idiots differently from people who have to follow idiotic orders.

  If the cause of the issue is a small fry, you should just get rid of him. But if the fundamental issue is higher up, Tanya knows to blame the superior officer.

  “I have orders from my direct superior based on the Wartime Public Morality Control Ordinance.”

  “…Fine, Corporal. I respect your duties. Tell me who gave this shitty, stupid order. Then I want you to call someone who is inside for me.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Who shall I call?”

  “Get First Lieutenant Serebryakov from the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. We’re going to get a proper record of your statement and then go and protest to your boss.”

  Which is why…

  Even though she knows she’ll be laughed at later, she requests that her adjutant be summoned so they can change the venue of the party.

  Thus, I suppose?

  To mention only the outcome, though it became a small incident that gave the person involved an ulcer, what ended up going in the MP log that day was “Nothing to report.”

  SEPTEMBER 30, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, ON A NORDEN-BOUND TRAIN

  Tanya received the sealed orders inside the train that had been arranged with bizarre efficiency.

  The officer must have been instructed to politely deliver it in person. The young first lieutenant, who seemed to have come from the academy, mistook Major Weiss as the commander and had to take back the envelope he had nearly handed him, but apart from that and the necessity of making a formal complaint to Army Command, there were no issues.

  But…it might be good to add that considering the trouble the day before at the bar, Tanya had every right to be irritated.

  And so, though part of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion was abnormally tense, the unit entered Norden and finished deploying to the provisional base on the northern edge of the former Entente Alliance territory.

  Judging from the collapsed houses and other buildings…the recovery effort wasn’t proceeding very smoothly. But the base that had been established, apparently as an aerial foothold, was equipped with the minimum necessary facilities.

  There were lodgings for personnel, control officers, and, most importantly, a canteen.

  Since she had been told not to open the sealed orders until further notice, she tossed the envelope into the battalion safe and conducted air battle exercises to get her troops used to the climate and the sky.

  She even had them do a scramble exercise the exact moment everyone was hung over from dousing themselves in beer after the first exercise.

  Once they understood what would happen to them if they let themselves go, she relaxed the reins a bit.

  Which is not to say she told them they could drink as much as they wanted. But she did arrange for the canteen to have a stock of alcoholic drinks at the official price as long as they could maintain moderation.

  Of course, that put them in the red, so she had to assist with “General Staff Confidential Funds,” but…Army Command was picking up the tab this time. The Inspection Division’s suggestion that this was appropriation for my own personal use was a misunderstanding.

  Tanya kindly replied, “An officer too childish for a messenger to give her the time of day couldn
’t possibly drink alcohol. It’s all merely operation costs to boost morale.”

  Frankly, if I had a way to embezzle money, I would embezzle as much as I could and worry about it later. Isn’t that what they say? To snatch up funding and authority while the snatching is good?

  A few days after that, Army Command apparently took some care when sending someone over. The captain who brought documents addressed to Tanya didn’t make a mistake.

  Upon prying open the sealed orders, she nodded and relayed the information to Weiss.

  The captain whined about keeping it confidential, so Weiss and Tanya left First Lieutenants Serebryakov and Grantz with him and went to consider their situation.

  The conclusion was that it was worth it to trust the information Intelligence had given them and do a search. Not like they could have refused after being ordered by the General Staff to fulfill as many of the joint intelligence agency’s requests as possible, but still.

  So it was that, once the briefing had been conducted, the forty-eight members of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion flew, in full gear, into the sky over the Northern Sea.

  Even in the northern sky, visibility is surprisingly good. No wireless noise or long-range signal hindrances. The elites at Norden Control are providing navigation support.

  “Colonel, we’ve received a transmission. It’s a wide-area broadcast from Norden Control. They’re saying Case C43…”

  “Case C43? So it’s what we expected, then.”

  Tanya groans at the report from her adjutant Lieutenant Serebryakov in spite of herself. Case C43 means the sub unit has discovered the target as expected. Apparently, the Army and Navy Commands’ joint intelligence agency is competent enough that they can overcome their vertical structures to support each other laterally for the sake of their mission.

  …Yes, awfully competent they are.

  “Mm.” Tanya nods in deep admiration. “So the army and navy intelligence agency or whatever actually exists. The way they’ve been working, I figured they were freeloaders at best.”

  “Ha-ha-ha, you’re right. This might be the first time Intelligence has been useful since I’ve been stationed under you, Colonel.”

  Serebryakov, laughing next to her, had been with her suffering on the Rhine front—and the reason for that suffering was the failure of command and the General Staff to acquire intel.

  Did they work so hard this time to make up for that huge failure?

  “I wasn’t convinced when I heard they nailed down the route, but we can’t ignore it when they give us such a detailed projection bursting with so much confidence.”

  Expected route, estimated speed, and info about its escort.

  The fishy operation plan they approved said that attacking and taking out the engine would be good enough, but now that we know the subs have spotted an enemy ship, the data seems much more reliable.

  “Did they break the Commonwealth’s code or something?”

  “Who knows? They’re not about to tell us.”

  Information sources are protected on principle. You can even call it a rule set in stone.

  You might be able to guess things, but the world of espionage is all about deception.

  Even if they did tell us where the intel came from, we wouldn’t be able to know how much of what they said was true. There can be any number of sources for analysis, from human intelligence assessments to legal means of intelligence collection or even SIGINT.

  So it’s a waste of brainpower to try to worry about it.

  “That’s for sure. But, Colonel, if the enemy finds out that we know what they’re up to now, won’t that hamper future espionage efforts?”

  “Visha, we’re here to execute. If the top hands us some intel and tells us to move out, worrying about where the intel came from is pointless.”

  There’s a heavy sigh.

  To think they would hear an easygoing Lieutenant Grantz come booming over the wireless… I thought he was pretty tense, but he must be an optimist deep down.

  “…I’d actually like you to think a bit, though, Lieutenant Grantz.”

  “M-Major Weiss, that’s a little…”

  Weiss with his common sense probably can’t stand that sort of talk. There’s nothing wrong with optimism, but it depends on the context.

  No. Tanya has a second thought.

  Though they are flying a mission, they haven’t yet encountered the enemy. If Weiss is playing around, I’ll join in, too.

  “I agree with Major Weiss. Lieutenant Grantz, if you haven’t been using your head, then you’re not tired at all, right? How about you use your brain to do the battalion’s complicated paperwork?”

  “C-can I beg for mercy?”

  Grantz must be used to the battlefield enough to catch the change in tone.

  “Hey now, Lieutenant Grantz. They say the commander’s supposed to lead the charge, right? Are you lacking initiative? This is no good. I can’t believe a company commander is revealing his lack of fighting spirit before the enemy…”

  “Major, give me a break!”

  “That’s enough. It’s important to ease the unit’s tension, but I don’t think anyone in my battalion is delicate enough to be nervous except for me.”

  “Ha-ha-ha-ha. Now you really must be joking!” Weiss laughs cheerfully.

  “Don’t you know what a young girl’s heart is like? I guess my only friend here is Lieutenant Serebryakov.”

  “Excuse me, but Colonel? We’re concerned that our dear Visha will vanish. Just what kind of monster are you trying to develop her into?”

  “A proper magic officer, clearly. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t make it sound like she’s evil.”

  Just a little show of banter for our subordinates before we head into combat.

  “…All right, you two, if you could leave it at that. There’s signs of a ship up ahead on the route where we’re projected to encounter the enemy. I’ve spotted it.”

  The one who goes so far as to warn us to quit joking around is the one we were talking about. Lieutenant Serebryakov doesn’t even need to be developed—she’s already a fine soldier.

  Abruptly switching gears, Tanya takes her binoculars and points them in the direction her adjutant indicates.

  It’s a little dot, but she can see it. Actually, with that size…if she can see it at this distance, it must be pretty huge.

  No doubt about it.

  It’s the prey they were expecting, the giant RMS Queen of Anjou. It would be difficult to mistake this singular ship capable of carrying large amounts of both weapons and personnel.

  “It’s huge, huh? It’s just one transport ship, but it’s still pretty overwhelming to see. Well, I guess it’s not quite appropriate to call it just a transport ship. It’s like twisting reality with words.”

  In terms of size alone, it appears to surpass even the capital ships of the High Seas Fleet. This ship, weighing tens of thousands of tons, races at incredible speeds across the water and would no doubt break through anything besides a minefield. Once you lay eyes on it, you realize how imposing it is, even if you don’t want to.

  “…Colonel, this is bigger than expected, I guess you’d say,” Weiss murmurs in shock. When he comments on how gigantic it is, all she can do is nod.

  Tanya herself should have known—it was something big enough to warrant a special mission. But even so…the spectacle before her eyes is formidable.

  “…Intelligence back home is asking too much.”

  “I heard the terms, too, but this is…” Lieutenant Serebryakov trails off. From the way she is peering through her binoculars, the remark was probably half to herself.

  “Hearing and seeing are two very different things. They say a floating castle of iron is a warship, but that’s a floating palace of iron.”

  It came from my heart.

  It’s been a long time since there’s been a fierce battle between a maritime guard and a commerce raider over the water.

  About the only carefree lone
ships are of neutral nationality or ships that the warring countries have agreed to allow to pass—medical boats or prisoner exchanges. Any other ship going alone in these waters would get laughed at as not a daredevil but just plain reckless.

  To any unit watching sharp-eyed for prey, an unaccompanied merchant ship is a sitting duck. The Imperial Army’s submarines and air units are excellent hunters.

  “And it’s awfully fast. I’m just eyeballing it, but it seems like they’re going…over thirty knots.”

  “They sure are. It’s weird… I thought merchant ships had a max speed of twenty. I’m sure that’s what we were taught.”

  “There’s always an exception, Major Weiss.”

  And this high-speed transport ship before their eyes is one of those few exceptions. It’s a huge ocean liner built not for economic efficiency but out of national pride.

  I’d like to laugh it off as a white elephant, but the harsh reality is that I can’t.

  “I can see why the imperial blockade basically wouldn’t function.”

  Usually, the bigger a ship gets, the more speed it sacrifices. The heavier, the slower. So as a matter of course, a huge ship ends up slow no matter what you do.

  Large transport ships tend to be extra slow due to the added weight of their cargo. But apparently, those rules don’t apply to this ship.

  “I’m altogether jealous. It must be so stable. If only we had had a ship like that for going to the southern continent, then no one would have gotten seasick.”

  “I agree, Major. It’s hard not to be envious of a maritime state’s cargo-passenger ships.”

  The sea is rough, but this giant ship isn’t pitching at all.

  No, its conspicuously elegant hull slices through the waves as it speeds along. This queen is one wild filly. She can’t be going less than thirty knots.

  And astonishingly, that’s its cruising speed. And if you consider that it’s packing enough fuel for a round-trip…it’d be practically impossible to catch with a run-of-the-mill navy ship. I’d like to ask them if they even know what the word economical means.

  “That’s with a typical transport ship load, so I’m utterly amazed.”

  If it was simply a fast transport ship, it would still be easy to deal with. It would have been a distraction but tolerable. The problem is that it’s enormous.