by Carlo Zen
“This is Norden Control with theater intelligence. Area α, blo— Bzzt…zzz.”
“Norden Control, this is Fairy 08. Reception is poor. The interference is awful. Over.”
Either there’s electromagnetic interference or my equipment is simply acting up. Why couldn’t it have happened at any time other than this crucial moment? Just to play it safe, Tanya starts checking if the problem has to do with the equipment strapped to her back by trying to radio Control again when it picks up an unexpected signal.
“Cherubim Leader issuing a theater warning! I say again, theater warning! Large number of incoming bogeys confirmed!”
It’s not a regular message or an express message but an unknown warning. It’s strange for the airborne controller to declare a theater warning when he’s supposed to be patrolling on the first line. And since theater warnings generally aren’t issued during intercept combat unless the warning line in front of patrol line one gets breached, a great deal can be read into that transmission.
Perhaps a fresh group of highly formidable soldiers has entered the fray. Well, this is war. It looks like the enemy won’t go down so easily after all.
“…Norden Control to all airborne interceptors on standby. Transition ROE8 from border patrol to mobile air defense. I say again, transition ROE from border patrol to mobile air defense.”
Upon successfully regaining the connection, orders to intercept rushed in. Obviously, if bogeys have been spotted, the only option is to intercept them. That’s why the Empire not only established massive formations on the front but also has reserves standing by in the air.
“Tally multiple bogey signals! Detecting formula interference! Consider them bandits! These are enemy signals! Take them out immediately!”
The tone of the incoming transmission hints at rough times ahead, even if the enemy is fighting in vain.
“Norden Control to all military forces. Norden Control to all military forces!” Although barely perceptible, a mixture of panic and confusion has slipped into the controller’s voice. These people would probably sound as dry as an announcer reading the newspaper even if allies were getting shot down. Their distress is a good indication of how bad the situation must be. “A battalion of Entente Alliance mages has been confirmed violating the border. I say again, a battalion of Entente Alliance mages has been confirmed violating the border.”
Well, the status report is undeniably surprising as the combat controller reads it with a tinge of confusion. Normally it would be taboo to employ piecemeal commitment in military operations. How to position reinforcements so they can best function as a relief force is crucial to planning military operations, but at the same time, command needs to keep a certain amount of strategic reserves available at all times. It’s a classic dilemma but also the most difficult to overcome.
It’s ludicrous for the Entente Alliance to make the infantry cross the border alone and then sortie their air assets afterward. I never dreamed the Entente Alliance would send out reserves when the imperial forces had already reached the point of transitioning from defense to pursuit. Strategically speaking, it would have made more sense for the Alliance to send in air support sooner, but then, that’s precisely why the Empire was taken by surprise.
“Intercept them immediately according to the anticipated scenario! I say again, intercept immediately!”
The artillery did a half-baked job of crushing the enemy, and right after all their units began changing positions and making minor adjustments, more than a battalion’s worth of enemy mages appeared to put up resistance on a massive scale. It isn’t as though no one speculated something like this might happen, but the Imperial Army was under the impression they had completely crushed the enemy’s main forces on the field.
Generally speaking, if the Entente Alliance had been aiming to cover the troop withdrawal, it should have acted a bit earlier. No doubt, the unexpected enemy reinforcements have thrown the front lines into chaos. Although I was fretting only moments ago that my lackluster position might harm my chances of a promotion, I’m genuinely grateful to be closer toward the rear. If I were with the airborne forces on standby, I would probably be flying into vicious aerial combat right about now, but luckily the observers don’t have to go.
“…Bzzt…zzz…zzt…”
Just as I’m admiring my good fortune, noise completely drowns out the communications from Norden Control, even though they had informed me about the drastic change in the situation just seconds ago. This is a critical juncture for the battle, and all my radio can do is put out static.
Considering how it acted up earlier, there’s a good chance the radio set itself is malfunctioning. It’s undeniably regrettable, seeing as how the radio is vital for me to continue spotting for the artillery and receive troop intel. But according to Tanya’s memory, the radio took more than its fair share of abuse during various drills. Prized for its durability, combat communication equipment isn’t supposed to be this fragile.
It’s odd, but maybe the breakdown happened because I’m using it in actual combat conditions. But not only does this prevent me from reporting on where incoming rounds are landing, it also worryingly renders me unable to carry out my duties as an artillery observer, even if it’s due to technical difficulties. But in the end, I don’t need to bemoan my wireless set’s failure for long.
…Radar emissions?! It’s pure coincidence that I catch it. Nonetheless, I listen to Tanya’s instincts and quickly veer off course, narrowly avoiding the attack. Countless magic formulas explode along the flight path I had been following just moments ago. The enemy has arrived.
“Mayday! Mayday! Fairy 08 to Norden Control! Fairy 08 to Norden Control! Theater warning! Requesting immediate assistance!” Tanya shouts into the radio, the waves set at maximum amplitude; the static wasn’t due to a defect but enemy jamming.
Without a doubt, these mages are the greatest threat among the surviving enemy forces along the border. The Entente Alliance is considered a developing country in the magician department, so their numbers are few, but to compensate for the short supply, the ones they do have are powerhouses. This has been made possible mostly due to support from nations who are aligned against the Empire. Essentially, it’s a classic case of “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
But the assumption that the Entente Alliance’s mages were lacking led Imperial Army’s mages, including me, to drop our guard even after receiving a situation report about enemy mage forces reorganizing behind enemy lines. According to intelligence obtained prior to the battle, the most elite enemy mages deployed to Norden were still hastily mustering in the Alliance a ways to the north. That’s why no one expected any particularly dangerous enemy mage forces in the vicinity.
I suppose you could say this allowed the enemy to capitalize on our carelessness. In any event, the appearance of enemy forces will be reported immediately to the command post (CP). Not only is there tactical value in doing so, but there’s also infinitely vast political implications to consider. Naturally, I follow procedure and report them, too. Still, I have no desire to go all out as a hero and single-handedly draw in the enemy. Anyone with a death wish is welcome to go die. My top priority is to survive. The problem is whether or not I can get away.
“I’ve detected a group of enemy mages, company sized, approaching rapidly,” I call into the radio as I prepare for air combat after sighting a rather large group of flying bodies swiftly closing in. It’s almost sickening how many there are. “Coordinates: Theater α, block eight. Altitude: 4,300!”
Whatever the other side’s conflict or political agenda, they’re certainly displaying a fierce will to fight. Honestly, it’s an absolute pain the way they remain undaunted by the losing battle, charging forward even as they exude despair. Nevertheless, my foes are hardworking soldiers overflowing with fighting spirit. No way they give a damn about all the trouble this is making for me.
On the other hand, the Empire’s forces are still winning across the board. It’s o
nly natural this battle will end with our victory—which is exactly why the situation can’t be any worse. If the enemy only broke through the area under my supervision when imperial forces were dominating most of the field, it would literally go down as the Empire’s one and only black mark for the whole battle.
“My incompetence would be recorded as the sole failure among everyone else’s successes.” I’m terrified that my actions might be remembered so poorly that I won’t even be able to defend myself from censure. It’s a dreadful thought that people might scorn my inability to do something as simple as fulfilling my assigned duties. Things being the way they are, that possibility alone is enough to rouse fear. And once the superiors give orders to intercept, grunts like me don’t have the right to refuse.
I initiate erratic evasive maneuvers with everything I have. With my petite frame, I would normally be able to expect a slight reduction in the g-force. In actuality, narrowly evading the fusillade of magic formula warheads brings the strain to a whole new level.
Going by the size of the group hurtling toward me, there are enough of them to at least be a platoon. No, this could be an elite squad. They’re going by the book, raining shells on the target they have under their thumb while using their superior firepower to dictate enemy movement. As they close in, their objective becomes indisputably clear.
Without so much as a single person providing air cover, the Empire’s artillery batteries make superb tactical targets. Since the hostile company’s main forces have already broken through, their plan to neutralize fire support is worth the risk from a strategic perspective. In any event, the situation is dire.
It might not be so bad if the corps used self-propelled artillery, but the lion’s share consists of towed pieces. Even for the Empire, it’s too much to ask to mechanize the artillery crews while also properly maintaining the armored divisions, mage troops, and air corps. Of course, the artillery lacks the time it needs to limber up the ungainly howitzers and run or hide.
Consequently, the fate of the weapons on the ground rests on how well the combat air patrol performs. But it’s going to take a great deal of strength to halt the advance of a company-sized group of mages. In short, it’s essential to keep them busy until allied air units can be organized.
“Engaging!”
“Norden Control to Fairy 08! Provide a status update!” Fortunately, our electronic counter-countermeasures must be up—the latest transmission is coming in clear. Agh, this is it. I predict a 100 percent chance of trouble. They say a woman’s intuition is often right. But despite looking like a young girl on the outside, I don’t particularly think of myself as a lady on the inside. So what is it? Why do I have such a bad feeling?
“This is Fairy 08. I’ve made contact. I say again, I’ve made contact. A hostile mage company is penetrating our airspace.”
“Norden Control, roger. Maintain contact and delay the enemy. Also, if at all possible, gather intel.”
Ah, that would explain it. I swear, it can’t get any worse than this. Engage the enemy and gather intel? No, no, trying to slow them down comes first, right? But single-handedly trying to disrupt a whole company? Up in the open sky with no cover? If they’re ordering me to die, I wish they would say it outright.
“There’s a substantial gap in fighting power. Requesting reinforcements.”
“Norden Control, roger. We’re already scrambling an allied mage platoon. Additional company already in the air on standby should also arrive in six hundred.”
Oh, really? Apparently reinforcements will arrive in ten minutes. That’s more than enough time to whip up some instant ramen, eat it, and finish cleaning to boot. Honestly, there’s no way I can pull off delaying actions for ten minutes against an entire company.
If I take into account preserving my own life, which I give the utmost importance, my wisest course of action is to beat a hasty retreat. It should be obvious, but I’m simply not patriotic enough to fight a grand battle out here alone. That said, I need a pretext to ensure I don’t become immortalized in military history for the horrible disgrace of running from the enemy. If, at the very least, I could get an order from high command to move from this strategically worthless airspace…
“Fairy 08 to Norden Control. Requesting permission for immediate withdrawal. I say again, requesting permission for immediate withdrawal.”
“Norden Control to Fairy 08. I’m afraid I can’t approve that. Do your best to delay them until the allied response team arrives.”
Arghh, damn you. Curse this elitist controller! You could take a life with a single order from the rear! I seriously want to scream, asking if they want to try switching places with me. They should come out to the front and give things a go before they start ordering the impossible.
“Fairy 08 to Norden Control. How is our artillery?”
That said, I’m an adult. I know that if I let Tanya’s physical age get the best of me, act on these emotions, and raise hell, it’ll just lead to problems down the line. I can always get my revenge after I make it big someday. And it’s precisely because I hope to make everyone pay later that I need to do my best in the current situation.
My efforts will allow the mage known as Tanya Degurechaff to dodge criticism once everyone learns about how she gave her all to fulfill her duty even under the worst conditions. And just in case they eventually court-martial me as a scapegoat, I can take initiative to show that I’m acting with the knowledge of the danger facing the artillery in the rear. I can claim later that I did everything within my power to deal with the problem. It’s always wise to have some insurance.
“The mage platoon is on their way to reinforce you. They should reach artillery airspace in approximately three hundred. And at the same time, the Seventh Mobile Mage Company is en route to intercept. As I said before, we expect them to reach you in six hundred.”
Aghh, the worst-case scenario has been set in stone. Damn the law of causation that brought about this shitty situation!!
Why do the enemy mage troops have to rush straight at the artillery positioned right behind airspace under my jurisdiction? What the hell are the troops in charge of the early warning line doing?
How does a mage company make it this far before anyone notices? It’ll be unbearable if I get blamed for this due to someone’s complacency after our victory was virtually assured. And if these guys want to take out artillery, wouldn’t it all be the same to them if they go to the next sector? Why do they have to come here of all places?!
Damn you, devil. Are you still cursing me?! Okay, fine. If that’s how you’re going to be, screw it. All these guys are out to get me, right? In that case, I won’t go down alone. I’ve made up my mind. If I’m gonna die, we’re all going together. I won’t be satisfied unless I take a whole bunch of these bandits with me.
“Fairy 08, roger. Norden Control, I’ll struggle with all my might!”
“Norden Control, roger. Good luck.”
…I’ll admit that I yelled in desperation. But “good luck”? Really? I mean, what’s up with that unnecessary comment at the end? I can’t help but furrow my brow as an ominous feeling flutters in my chest.
This situation reminds me of how, in a weird twist of fate, the Tokugawa soldiers who were dominating the Battle of Sekigahara encountered the peculiar Shimazu forces. In other words, what I want to say is Don’t come over here. Go away. Shoo.
Biting my lower lip, I can’t help but curse my rotten luck. Well, I am being toyed with by entities like Being X. I’ve braced myself, I really have…but I never dreamed I’d end up committing to a defensive delaying action in enemy-dominated airspace.
Are there no child welfare services? I dunno if I’m cute as a button, but at least I look the part. And not just any kid but one small enough that people regularly refer to me as “young” or “little.” I wish the enemy would hesitate to shoot when they see me, but you can’t expect humanitarianism on a battlefield.
Anyone who knows what happened in the Holocaust,
and then in Sarajevo and Rwanda, should have realized by now how truly dangerous it is to blindly believe in the ideals of humanism. It’s all too easy for humans to transform into demons capable of performing monstrous atrocities. That might not be taught in ethics class, but it’s our nature.
Admittedly, the sensible Western comment that “a virtuous God must exist” precisely because of those demons committing such evils is intriguing. Unfortunately, since Being X doesn’t come across as particularly virtuous to me, I have to disagree.
“‘God is dead,’ was it?”
While nevertheless controversial, Nietzsche’s conclusion is probably right. It’s impossible for God to exist. People have to save themselves. In this situation, that means a defensive delaying action.
The equipment on hand includes a light bulletproof uniform, observer gear, and a Type 13 Standard Computation Orb from the Volcker Arms Factory. Because I’m on observation duty, I don’t have my magic ammunition rifle, which allows the shooter’s will to cast at greater ranges by loading formulas. And besides, it’s too heavy for me, anyway.
How am I supposed to slow the enemy down like this? Of course, I know my only option is to find a weak point. Naturally, I have absolutely no intention of dying quietly. If worse comes to worst, I intend to self-destruct or whatever it takes to bring them down. If it’s that or get slaughtered, I won’t be satisfied unless I take them out with me. Still, if at all possible, I’d prefer to survive.
In fact, survival is my highest priority. Really, I want to just make a break for it. If I dump my artillery support equipment, it’ll make me lighter. The enemy troops trying to break through are targeting the artillery, so I can definitely take refuge in a safe zone if I focus on retreat and immediately put some distance between us. But even if I manage to escape, I don’t stand a chance afterward. It goes without saying that the army punishes desertion in the face of the enemy—execution by firing squad. From the day I desert, I’ll be trapped playing an epic game of tag with the military police that never ends. There’s no choice but to fight, despite being completely isolated, without so much as a single wingman.
