Plus Ultra

by Carlo Zen

  “““Roger! Glory to the fatherland and our commander!”””

  “I wish you all luck.”

  Well! It seems my subordinates are really starved for war since we walloped the Dacians. They’re more fired up than I imagined they would be—it’s a bit moving. They have a consummate service spirit.

  They’re so wonderful that if they weren’t so dedicated to the pursuit of the unproductive enterprise of war, I would definitely want to recruit them. It’s really too bad. It’s this kind of thing that proves the devil’s existence.

  If God existed, resources wouldn’t be allotted so improperly. The market principle is the one truth path. Only the market has an invisible hand.

  Honestly, it’s so unfortunate. The world really is made to be difficult. It seems like it’ll be a long time before economics works everything out.

  “Fourth Company, we’re climbing. We’re going to go around and attack those two companies that seem like reinforcements.”

  Anyhow, this job is fine—I’ll just do what needs to be done. We’re an augmented battalion—four companies. What that means is we’re a battalion plus an extra company. Our battalion will intercept the two battalions, and the extra company will take on the two companies. What simple proportions. As for where to employ my personal strength, the latter situation is easier. And I want to make it easy on myself, so I’m going with the latter group.

  There is no greater aim on the battlefield than to defeat the enemy with as little effort as possible. It’s all about how comfortable you can make your life.

  The idea that struggling while you’re young builds character must have as much truth to it as a hedge fund advertisement. I think I’ll go ahead and build other people’s character.

  “Understood. What will you do about the bombers?”

  “They’re mine. Don’t hate me! I’d just like to be an air force ace as well as an army one.”

  “Ha-ha-ha. Good one.”

  He asked something important, so I made myself clear. I replied casually enough, but I meant it. Though it was a sort of snobby motivation, I read somewhere that it’s not bad to show a human side once in a while. Of course, I also read that if you’re too snobby, people won’t like you. Why is a good person like me so unreasonably tormented by Being X and made to fight in this war in the first place? I can’t help but lament my fate.

  But now my subordinates have started to laugh like they’ve heard a great joke. Finding that suspect, I glare at them and ask what in the world is so funny.

  “You know you have to do it with fighter planes, right?”

  But the answer is simple. Vexingly enough, it seems I’ve misunderstood the rules. How regrettable that I should expose my ignorance in front of my men like this. What indescribable shame.

  “Really? That’s too bad. We should have borrowed fighter planes. I’d almost like to go back and get them.”

  “Why don’t you? Although, if I go with you, I think I’ll end up having to treat the battalion.”

  They must be having a great laugh at my expense. Going back to borrow fighter planes from the air force? I can’t do that.

  If I did, it’d be treated as fleeing before the enemy. Death by firing squad! Death by firing squad would be waiting for me. And on top of that, it’s not like I can pilot a fighter plane anyhow, so I wouldn’t even have an excuse. I have no doubt this bureaucratic system would execute even a young child like me. Isn’t there some kind of interest or rights group, or even a group with vested interests, that would protect me?

  “I couldn’t possibly turn my back on the enemy.”

  “Well, that’s that, I suppose. Let’s just finish this up as fast as we can.”

  And then messages from the other units come in. There’s nothing better than good timing.

  I love that my men can read a situation. I’m sure they’ll be a great help in getting promoted. This is very good.

  “Sorry, you’re definitely going to be treating us. Engage!”

  “Twenty-five years… I’ll be drinking my fill. Company, forward!”

  “Nothing better than having good brothers-in-arms. Well then, ’scuse us, Commander.”

  “A-argh! Those guys! My apologies, Commander.”

  The atmosphere had completely changed. They were great backup.

  Even though I had been in human resources, where I didn’t have to deal with too many nights out drinking or entertaining clients, when someone is this good, I know in a glance. These guys are definitely cut out to be in sales. I’m sure they have what it takes to handle strategy.

  What a waste. It really is a shame. The fact that they love war instead of business is just too bad. I have to respect their free will, yet I still find it unfortunate.

  “Okay. Don’t worry about me. Go on ahead.”

  “Thank you. Fourth Company, we’re going out in front!”

  Apparently, all my company commanders are full of fight. They’re raring to go like Dobermans before their prey, so when I let go of their leashes, they’re off.

  They immediately get into a spindle-shaped assault formation and zoom out of the sky to put pressure on the enemy from above. It’s a truly beautiful maneuver. The instantaneous charge is performed in perfect unity, but their desire for battle is so intense they get a bit too daring.

  Really, I had intended to have Fourth Company be my direct support, but if they like fighting so much, maybe it’s safer to keep my distance. They might be too aggressive to use as my shield; enemies might actually be attracted to them.

  “Sheesh, so I’m up against the slowpoke bombers? Doesn’t seem like we’ll be able to dance.”

  My own lonely interception battle. Against bombers, I probably won’t get to perform any elegant maneuvers. It’ll be the simple labor of turning into a fixed battery and blasting them out of the sky. If I miss, I’ll just be a laughingstock, so although it’s a safe job, I can’t take it too easy.

  “I’m not really in the mood, but this is work. Let’s just get it done one step at a time.”

  Maybe it’s good not to stick out, but you can’t show people what you can do that way. Besides, I’m up against bombers. I have to aim very precisely to take them out.

  Since I can’t sense magic and use that for guidance, I have to employ either heat detection or radar. I may be a mage, but I don’t come with radar, and building in a heat detection formula is a pain. Considering it’s going to basically be a sniper attack in the end, it doesn’t seem worth the time and effort.

  Frankly, it’s no wonder that puts me in a foul mood. At least if I down the things my score will go up.

  “Major von Degurechaff, how copy?”

  “This is Pixie 01, solid copy. Since when have you forgotten we use call signs?”

  And that’s why I gave a cranky response to the message that suddenly came in.

  Perhaps not being able to control my emotions disqualifies me as an adult member of society, but nobody would be happy to have a difficult job interrupted with a flagrant violation of regulations. Honestly what does everyone think rules and regulations are for? There are too many careless people in the world.

  “M-my apologies.”

  “What do you think the military discipline and regulations are for?”

  You can’t just fix this kind of thing by saying sorry. Regulation violations lead to accidents. Don’t you know Heinrich’s Law, the rule of thumb an insurance worker discovered taking statistics? Accumulating small mistakes is the first step to a serious accident. Mistakes must be eradicated.

  “Please leave it at that. This is Hotel 03, Hotel 03. Do you copy?”

  Someone who sounds important got on the line, so I decide to adjust my attitude. Sometimes swallowing your pride is the right choice. As a member of an organization, what you need to do is simple: Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.

  “This is Pixie 01. Loud and clear. What can I do for you?”

  “The reorganization of the Viper Battalion and the units that ret
reated is complete. Shall we have them act as a rear guard?”

  This time instead of scolding, Tanya breaks into a smile at what a well-made address it was. The Viper Battalion is worn down, and she figured they would be more like deadweight than reinforcements, but it seems their reorganization has gone well. Perhaps the Northern Army Group is more efficient than she gave them credit for.

  “Wow, what a speedy reorganization! Very well, please do.”

  Anything useful is welcome. Deadweight that can’t even serve as a shield is annoying, but she is always happy to accept pawns.

  She has more luck than she thought this time. People shouldn’t rely on fortune, but neither should they be too narrow-minded to seize a good chance.

  “What? Oh, understood. I’ll get them on their way.”

  “You have my thanks. Now watch us work. Over.”

  While I’m at it, I want to share the news with my unit. Even for a bunch of war aficionados, there shouldn’t be anything better than getting more friends. Frankly, Tanya is ready to welcome reinforcements right away.

  The truth of the matter is that they were outnumbered, so she couldn’t wait for the reorganized battalion to arrive.

  “Battalion, this is your commander.”

  Yeah, they’ll probably be happy. They’ll be able to fight without worrying about their rear. I live by the creed “safety first,” and even I’m not against realizing a few achievements in this battle.

  “Rejoice. We’re getting backup. Some reinforcements are coming all the way out here to help us.”

  I’m surprised a unit that withdrew could be reorganized so efficiently. Wonderful. That’s the word to express how moved I am. Granted, it’s dangerous to judge a whole situation by looking at only a couple events. Still, even if the radio operator is inept, this shows his superior officer is on point.

  The reinforcements will probably be here any minute.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Why don’t we just take our time and wait for our backup? I can’t say that because my will to fight would be suspect, but if I can get them to understand as much indirectly, there would be no problem. Tanya’s real intention as she informs them of the reinforcements is to change the plan in a big way, from an offensive tactical formation to a defensive one, just like in Dragon Quest.

  “““Yes, ma’am!”””

  The clipped reply surely means they grasp her intentions. Tanya nods in satisfaction.

  “Now, let’s do as much work as we get paid for!”

  NOVEMBER 7, UNIFIED YEAR 1924, SOMEWHERE IN THE ENTENTE ALLIANCE… A HOSPITAL OPERATED BY THE COMMONWEALTH HUMANITARIAN ORGANIZATION PEACE WORLD

  “The bombers are done for! No support yet?!”

  “The light—the light!! Uwaaaagh!”

  “We lost the formation leader’s signal?!”

  “Break! They’re fast! Put up a wall of bullets! Don’t get anywhere near them!”

  “Pixie 02 to all companies. Charge!”

  “Ngh! They’re past the vanguard?! Stop shooting and be ready for a close-quarters fight!”

  “Mayday! Mayday! No rescue yet?!”

  “Norland Control to all units. Abort the operation! Abort the operation! As of this moment, abort the operation!”

  “The bomber unit—!”

  “Fucking hell! The vanguard got savaged! Who are those guys?!”

  “The recon company has been wiped out! At this rate, we’ll be surrounded!”

  “They got past our close support?!”

  “Viper 02 to Pixie 01. We’re on our way now.”

  “Roger. No sign of enemy reinforcements. Expect a hot pursuit.”

  “Viper 02, roger.”

  “Detecting enemy reinforcements! They’re the size of a battalion.”

  “Reinforcements? What about ours?!”

  “Norland Control to all units. Retreat immediately to marshaling point two. I say again, retreat immediately to marshaling point two.”

  “It’s no good! I can’t lose them!”

  “Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

  “Pixie 01 to all hands. Transition to cleanup.”

  “Viper 02 to Pixie Battalion. We have visual.”

  “We see you, too. Can we leave the pursuit to you? I want my team to mop up the stragglers.”

  “Enemy reinforcements have arrived!”

  “Fucking hell! Don’t stop! Run! Hurry!”

  “Roger. Thanks.”

  “For fuck’s sake, this is hell!”

  “My intestines… Someone pick up my intestines!”

  “They’re your sworn enemy. No need to hold back. Over.”

  What the hell did I drink last night?

  The first question that entered his mind was absurd.

  He could tell someone was shaking him, but it took a long time for his brain to start working.

  First Lieutenant Gunning wondered why his whole body felt so heavy.

  Someone is…calling me?

  “Nn…!”

  His consciousness returned, though it was hazy, and outlines began to appear.

  “Lieutenant! Lieutenant!”

  …Well, this is no good. If they’re not using my name, it’s either my boss or the military police.

  But I’m still out of it. I’m so dizzy I can’t take it.

  Seriously, what did I drink? I’m fit as a fiddle after a bottle of Scotch, so why…? Did someone slip me vodka?

  He only cracked his eyes open, as was his habit.

  A blinding white space. Something was blinking. No, maybe some kind of machine?

  The brightness still bothered him, but a strange sense that his body wasn’t his own confused him. He was so weary that try as he might he couldn’t move.

  As he stared up at the ceiling, his brain finally woke up, and as it got up to speed, he started to grasp his surroundings. At a glance, it didn’t seem to be his room. So what’s going on?

  He had no recollection of this. A pure white field. Hmm? A room? I think I know this place. I have some memory of it. So where am I?

  “…Uhhhgh. Where…?”

  He wasn’t particularly looking for a reply with the groan, but it seemed the person who had been calling out to him had heard. It caught the attention of everyone in the vicinity, apparently, and suddenly he was engulfed in a huge commotion. For whatever reason, he tried to sit up, but he nearly tipped over instead. His body wouldn’t move the way he wanted. It seemed like someone propped him up, and he vaguely understood he was being held.

  “Lieutenant! Okay, you’re conscious, right? Medic! Bring a surgeon, quick!”

  “What…?”

  Just voicing the question exhausted him completely. Something weird is going on. He couldn’t find the words for it, but something was different. What the heck happened to me?

  He wasn’t half-asleep, but though his awareness kept increasing, the foggy light before his eyes failed to dissipate. Not only would his eyes not focus, he couldn’t hold them steady.

  If I were hungover, I’d feel sick and have a headache…and I don’t. As reality slowly returned to him, it started to dawn on him what a strange situation he was in.

  “Relax. How much do you remember?”

  “…What? What are you saying?”

  No. I don’t want to remember any more than that.

  I must not remember.

  I can’t… What?

  “Captain, it’s no good. He’s totally minced.”

  “Here, too. The log’s been destroyed. We recovered it, but I don’t think any of this will be useful.”

  Minced?

  Destroyed?

  My…

  What about my mates…?

  “Welcome to the Empire. Do you have a passport?”

  “Ha-ha-ha, Commander. We didn’t bring a welcome bouquet. Now what?”

  “Oof, what will I do with you guys? But you brought the fireworks, right?”

  “Oh, that’s right. Those look kinda like flowers, right?”
>
  “Great. Then maybe I’ll sing a welcome song.”

  “Hmm? You know a song?”

  “Yeah, a good one.”

  “Do you need me to sew your mouths closed?” the captain snapped.

  Somewhere, someone hastily shut their mouth, but it was too late.

  Red, red flowers. My brothers. My superiors. My men.

  “…Ahhaahhhhhhhhhhhggghh!”

  “Medic! A sedative! Quick!”

  “You idiots! You can expect disciplinary action for this!”

  They’re meat now.

  Bright red, bloody blossoms.

  Burst.

  Blooming.

  All over.

  [chapter] III Norden II

  THE SAME DAY, SOMEWHERE AT IMPERIAL ARMY HEADQUARTERS IN NORDEN

  The chill of Norden naturally urges people to prepare for it obsessively. That said, it’s a pleasant fixation. A fire blazing in the hearth, its warmth filling the room, is an indispensable feature of a quiet Norden winter.

  “Welcome to Norden. Or I suppose I should say, ‘Welcome back’? We’re happy to have you, Major von Degurechaff.”

  “Yes, returning to this battlefield does bring back memories. I’m eager to serve under you, General von Rudersdorf.”

  There is something off about the General Staff officers and their extremely serious expressions while they are having that utterly out-of-place exchange. Of course, Major General von Rudersdorf and Major von Degurechaff have simply both judged that it is easier to speak pragmatically with each other, so they hit it off relatively quickly.

  “…Now then, let me tell you what a wonderful job I think you’re doing right out of the gate. I heard from Colonel von Lergen—it’s quite the achievement.”

  “I’m honored, sir.”

  “Ah, but I expected nothing less. I knew having Zettour send you here was the right move.”

  The cooperative relationship between these two geniuses within the General Staff really is something. For better or worse, the only one who can get their way with the deputy director of the Service Corps is his cohort or his boss. Since Zettour had to be persuaded for her to be dispatched, she inwardly braces herself to be worked to the bone by the deputy director of Operations.