by Carlo Zen
“That can’t be! She’s the recipient of the Silver Wings Assault Badge with Oak Leaves!”
“And that’s exactly why.”
A child her age received the Silver Wings Assault Badge, plus the Oak Leaves, and lived.
Normally, even just that sentence would be bizarre; you could say it was impossible. If I had read the same sentence before the war, I would have scoffed at it as either an awful piece of fiction or a joke made by someone unfamiliar with how personnel works in the military and thought nothing of it.
The more he considered it, the stranger it seemed. Major Tanya von Degurechaff was a child, and yet…she was so terribly complete as a soldier.
Practically all he could think was that something inside her had come undone.
He understood from all that had happened so far that she was loyal to the army. What he didn’t know was where exactly her loyalty was oriented. Horrifying.
“…Let’s end it there. The clock is ticking even as we debate. As long as the only objections are emotional arguments, discussing any further is a waste of time.”
Zettour cut the dispute short, the trace of a wry smile on his face. Then he dropped a bomb on the staffers and their blank looks.
“I also judge it fine to give her permission.”
Lergen grinned. He’s the same as ever.
““General?!”” At that remark, several people observing the proceedings finally had to interrupt.
That was hilarious to Lergen, but…apparently, they were actually worried.
Aren’t the chances of success incredibly slim? they thought.
Won’t this just end with us running an invaluable elite unit into the ground?
Or maybe they were concerned it would have a negative impact on morale.
All those questions were implicit in their calls to hold her back.
“She wouldn’t ask unless she believed success was possible. I’d be willing to wage one of my favorite bottles on it.”
“Are you serious?!”
Which is why they were shocked when he promptly rejected their fears.
The members of the General Staff were brilliant people who were able to think only within the bounds of common sense. They weren’t much good at adapting to new ideas.
Well, I can see why, thought Lergen as it hit him. The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion is just something else.
Getting involved with that one sure gives your common sense a jolt.
“Yes, I’m serious. Now authorize her.”
There’s no way to force them to understand, thought Lergen as he saluted and left. He was headed to the signaling room to send a telegram to Tanya, who he knew was waiting: Is it here yet? Have we gotten permission?
As he went, he thought, I hope the Federation rots.
MARCH 16, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, THE FEDERATION CAPITAL MOSKVA
Located in one corner of Moskva is the People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs, and its name alone was enough for any citizen of the Federation to steel themselves: Am I next? After all, unlike the lazier Federation agencies, there was no lack of results.
Some people in the world push forward very passionately with work that you definitely wouldn’t want them to be passionate about. Surely everyone wants police and firefighters to be enthusiastic, but not many people would appreciate that same enthusiasm from the secret police.
So when it comes to “the people’s friend,” the Commissariat for Internal Affairs that is, the common people surely wish it wasn’t so dedicated. No, even the privileged class of apparatchiks wish from the bottom of their hearts for this particular people’s commissariat to be lazier. After all, the Commissariat for Internal Affairs is notorious for its decisive role in the cleansing of the party’s central presidium.
If these guys had their eyes on you, whether you were a leading member of the military or the party, your life would be short indeed… As a power that could ruin anyone and everyone tomorrow if it so chose, the organization was feared and loathed by all Federation citizens. But the staff of the People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs took no notice of the people’s feelings and continued with the meticulous execution of their roles as cogs in the system.
From collectivizing agriculture, purging reactionary elements, and exposing sabotage to cracking down on secret communication with foreign agents—they worked devotedly on it all. They openly professed that rather than let a single criminal go free out of concern for harming ten potentially innocent people, they would prefer to condemn a hundred innocents to catch ten actual criminals.
And those same staff members could probably be said to be heading up the modern witch hunt. But even they trembled before their boss and manager, the People’s Commissar for Internal Affairs Comrade Loria, hoping they wouldn’t make some kind of mistake.
In terms of appearance, he was an ordinary, lackluster man in his forties, if a bit short. But his name was enough to cause seasoned veterans to break out in a cold sweat and turn docile under the cruel thumb of the Commissariat for Internal Affairs.
Loria, however, matter-of-factly facing his duties with his pen in hand, defined himself as nothing more than an efficient bureaucrat applying himself to his work.
“Right. See to it that they’re handled in an acceptable manner.” As part of his administrative duties regarding the concentration camps in Sildberia, he warned a camp manager that the laborers were to be used properly—that is, with wear and tear kept to a gradual level—and slowly replaced the receiver.
Though he was aware a war was starting, the style with which he approached his duties didn’t change one bit from peacetime. He calmly viewed human beings as statistics and devoted himself to meeting his numbers whether for the front lines or the rear.
Thus, for Loria, as long as the war was a sure thing, he could only do his duty.
But even for him, without a doubt, the decision to declare war on the Empire was a happy event that cleared away the nightmares that had been occupying his mind. Apparently, the weight of being constantly on guard, never knowing when the Empire might strike, was far heavier than he imagined.
How long had he been tormented by that stress?
Ever since planning the declaration and sneak attack, he’d felt so much better. As a fortunate result, he was able to get through approvals faster and handle many more matters than before.
He had purged half the list, so he was confident and proud of the fact that the reactionary forces couldn’t make a move, even if the country shifted into war mode.
He wasn’t going to allow anyone to challenge the foundations of the Federation, whether it be the wavering class plotting sabotage or the antiestablishment faction. And since the camps needed as much labor as they could get, he could simply send the imperial soldiers over.
“Great, everything’s going smoothly, so I should… Ah, but every now and then, it’s not so bad…”
At this moment, when war was just beginning on the front lines, he noticed…due to a slight quiver…that he was feeling unusually pent-up. He couldn’t suppress the urge to vent his impulses.
Once it occurred to him, he didn’t hesitate to act on it.
“It’s me. Yes, bring my car around.”
All he had left to do was wait for reports from the political commissars on the front lines. That would take some time. Waiting irritated him—he didn’t have the patience.
If he couldn’t stand it, a bit of a break for his nether regions became necessary.
Today wasn’t a bad day to wander the city for a new find. Great men have great fondness for the sensual pleasures—isn’t that what they say?
“Make sure this is handled by the time I get back. Pay particular attention to the cleansing of any people who’ve had contact with imperials.”
Quite so. And thus, since he was a great man, it was no wonder he had a great fondness for sensual pleasures. Loria was the type of person who didn’t hesitate to prioritize his tastes.
He left the rest of the work to
his subordinates, telling them to do a thorough job on anyone connected to the Empire; got in his car; and gave the driver, who was aware of the particulars, concise instructions.
“I’d like to go for a drive. Just the usual.”
So the car leisurely proceeded toward the center of Moskva, occasionally interrupted by a checkpoint or air defense base. He couldn’t really complain about the obstructions to his fun, since he was the one who had arranged for the checkpoints and ordered the military to build the air defense bases.
Luckily, it didn’t take too long. Even if he was held up slightly now and then, some of the sentries were from the People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs. Once they noticed he was in an official car with a special license plate number, they opened the roads to him.
He had the driver take him to a part of town with lots of students and began watching them with the anticipation of a beast hunting its prey. Let’s see…
He’d been so busy lately he hadn’t gotten to enjoy himself like this in some time.
I really have no patience anymore… He smiled wryly to himself. Still, that’s why he was gazing lustfully at the schoolgirls going by in search of one who fit his ideal.
“What about that one? …Mm, not so much.” He sighed.
For a moment, the back of one girl seemed good, but when he took a closer look, she wasn’t what he was after.
It was a problem of seasoning. If she had been younger, she would have been his type. Unfortunately, she was far too grown-up for his taste.
She was more like a ripe fruit than a green one, just slightly outside the realm of his interest. She was very close. It wasn’t as if she aroused nothing within him. But precisely because she was so nearly perfect, her faults were glaring.
“Not quite… If only I could have found her a bit sooner, she would have been delicious.”
Before he knew it, he was lamenting the absurdity of fate. That beauty, that height—a few years earlier he would have surely wanted her; he would have plucked her off the street. The fact that she was so beautiful, he felt he might even be able to savor her despite her awkward partially grown-up-ness actually lessening his desire—what a tragedy.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ah, they just aren’t quite it. Keep driving.”
This is what it meant to Loria, as he gazed at the girls walking down the street, to lose interest. He was looking for a flower to pick, but having seen a decayed form of his ideal, none of them was enough for him. From behind, one might look nice, but when he got closer, there was always something missing.
Should I try somewhere else? It was as he was trying to think of a way to improve his mood that it happened.
After staring at the earth for so long—Ah, man—he looked up and noticed dark spots hanging in the western sky. As he was thinking what strange spots they were, he realized they were clad in camouflage, certainly nothing like the plumage of any bird.
“Eh? What idiots are these?”
The entirety of Moskva had already been declared a no-fly zone. No one was supposed to be in the air if it wasn’t for a military parade or ceremony.
Naturally, this was a flagrant violation of the rules.
You reprobates! With eyes containing so much murder he could have killed someone with a glare, he vowed to punish the fools.
This is why I can’t trust the air forces or the mages. I’ve sent so many to the concentration camps, and they still don’t learn! After the thought occurred to him, Loria’s sly mind wondered something.
Mages?
There shouldn’t have been any mages left in the area. He himself had spearheaded the hunt—not for witches but mages. It should have been physically impossible for any mages to even be around to break the rules.
There couldn’t have been any left.
“What the—?!”
Actually…
He was shouting in spite of himself, lacking the wherewithal to care about appearances.
…what the hell is going on?
Even that dead-end question entered Loria’s head. But in the next moment, the movements of the mage-like spots before his eyes left no room for doubt.
The mages calmly assumed anti-surface strike formation. Even from the ground, he could tell it was a magnificent maneuver. Not a member was out of place; you could have even called their attitude relaxed.
And Loria knew—that the Federation Army mages couldn’t pull off such a well-ordered maneuver.
Of course he knew. He was the one who had purged and ruined them.
He did it so the class that had made the former mage establishment their allies would never have the power to oppose the party ever again. There were only a few reactionaries left in the Federation Army, and they had fallen so far that people gave them the cold shoulder. There were no units left that could perform such maneuvers, and if there were, he would have sent them to Sildberia to get them killed by the Akitsushima Dominion in the border conflict.
So these weren’t Federation mages. In which case, by process of elimination, their identities were clear: They’re enemies. They’re from the army of a hostile nation… After that realization, this time he shouted with true abandon:
“The Imperial Army?! What?! That can’t be!”
MARCH 16, UNIFIED YEAR 1926, OVER FEDERATION CAPITAL MOSKVA
Upon reaching the sky over the Federation’s capital, Moskva, the commander of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, Major Tanya von Degurechaff, realizes she has won her bet.
In a booyah mood—smiling, even—Tanya looks out over the streets of Moskva they are about to greet as representatives of the Imperial Army. As she takes a good look, she notices the annoyingly gaudy bronze statues in “the world’s most urban international airport.”
The towering People’s Palace can’t have been built without heaps of gall; the twinkling red stars are in truly bad taste.
Well. Tanya smiles tolerantly.
I don’t expect much sense from Communists to begin with, and I’m not the type who gets particular about the shape of my targets.
If there’s one thing I’m particular about, it’s that “A dead Red is a good Red.”
If international agreements don’t prevent Tanya from bombing the Communist capital, that’s plenty satisfying.
“Fairy 01 to all units.”
Normally, flying in over a capital city so casually like this without meeting air defense, much less an interception, would be impossible.
Normally… I can’t say things aren’t complicated due to the outbreak of the war.
Still, Tanya has to crack a smile. They’re succeeding on a long-distance penetrating raid with barely any preparation. If it’s so easy to get in, Federation air defense is worthless.
“I won this bet, huh? I told you even a college kid could break this defense, didn’t I?”
“02 to 01. You did indeed.”
See? Tanya grins at Captain Weiss, who had disapproved of the Moskva bombing plan. In response to his commander’s genial Told ya! Weiss knows he’s been defeated and raises the white flag.
“I appreciate your sportsmanlike acceptance of the truth, but that doesn’t mean you get any mercy. As such, troops, when we get back to base, all of 02’s favorite bottles are yours for the drinking!”
“Wow, the vice commander is treating us? Looking forward to it!”
“Sounds like a good chance, so please count me in, as well.”
At times like this, the way First Lieutenants Serebryakov and Grantz banter is fearless. It’s a cheerful, harmonious flight over enemy territory. You nearly get the illusion that the sky is free, unlike the Commie-infested ground.
“If you’re treating both of them, then don’t forget me!”
“And drink them we will! This is our biggest mission since the one on the beach last summer. Against alcohol, you’ll never catch me retreating—not even one step!”
“02 to all units. You guys have got some nerve!”
This is a promising vibe for w
orkplace chatter to have. Being unexpectedly blessed with ethyl alcohol improves the morale of Grantz and the other officers, which enhances the spirit of teamwork throughout the battalion; we can head to work in solidarity.
In that case.
We can do this. Tanya cracks a smile and thinks how dependable her troops are, staying appropriately relaxed but not dropping their guard as they fly. Then she barks orders. “01 to all units! It’s fine to look forward to 02’s kind offer, but before recreation comes the job. Form up immediately for an anti-surface strike. I say again, form up immediately for an anti-surface strike.”
They promptly organize themselves into a combat box. The 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion’s movements are outstanding. They maintain appropriate distance from one another as they begin to drive toward the center of Moskva.
That’s when Tanya has the feeling that maybe they could go one step further. So far, the only obstacles they’ve encountered in the sky have been birds or weather. Despite the long flight, her mages aren’t terribly exhausted; they have energy to spare.
Upon reaching their destination, their fighting power is much closer to usual than her best estimates indicated they would be. They should still have enough energy to withdraw even if they really go to town instead of just doing a hit-and-run. At this rate, maybe they can escape north into former Entente Alliance territory under Imperial Army control.
Tanya mumbles to herself and then tells the troops they are going to carry out some efficient destruction.
The original plan was to perform a flyby at most, a demonstration. Specifically, they were going to take a page from the John Bull’s handbook and fly circles over the enemy capital.
We’re up against Commies, so nothing would be better than knocking their pride down a few pegs, or rather, Tanya had been thinking of that as their goal. But in reality, she’s been given more options than a simple performance.
“I’m revising the plan. First Company, you’re with me. I’m going to blast the red stars on that big, irritating People’s Palace. The rest of you, attack whatever government facilities you can find.”
