Author's Note: This story is set in an AU called The Last Reich, which is set in a pseudo historical setting where the realm inside of the Walls is the Kingdom of Prussia. Their society is not a particularly liberal one by our standards: class strucutre is heavily driven by your ethnic background, with non Prussians being shoved down the ladder based on how 'un-German' they are. i.e. The English are up fairly high, but groups like the Polish and more so Blacks, Turks, Arabs, Asians etc are at the bottom of the pile. Racism in this setting is not considered unusual, and indeed it is accepted by many as a fact that without Aryan heritage you are at least somewhat inferior. Women are also second class citizens in many respects, not having the right to vote and various other things.
I'm telling you all this right now so you don't get too shocked by some of the content of this piece. I myself am neither racist nor sexist, and do not endorse any such behavior that appears in this one-shot.
Also, if you want to get an idea as to what the "Scouts" uniforms look like, look up Napoleonic Death's Head Hussars, and combine this with the appearance of a German soldier at the beginning of World War 1, and you'll some idea of what I mean.
"Hey, this is military property; no civies," barked a tall man with a bristly moustache. He wasn't exactly the image of military splendour she remembered seeing on parades. His cuffs were undone and so was his chin strap, while his white embraided black jacket was slung carelessly over one shoulder rather pinned in place.
"I'm here to enlist," she replied.
The soldier stared at her dumfounded for a few moments before bursting out laughing. "Hahaha! Oh that's good; who put you up to this, was it Shultz?" he asked, grinning.
"My brother was part of this Regiment," she continued, cutting through the man's attitude with an icy stare, "He was killed in your most recent expedition beyond the Walls."
The man paused, noticing the intensity of her body language for the first time. "Heh, look ginger," he began, walking over to her, "I'm not sure what you've been told but, the army ain't a place for women. Especially not this Regiment."
"I want to fight," she hissed. "I'm not afraid."
The soldier laughed again and put a hand around her shoulders. "Listen sweetie; the tough girl act is kinda cute; why don't you stop by again this evening? I've got some free time."
With a snarl she elbowed him in the stomach and jumped backwards. The soldier staggered backwards, surprise evident on his face. "Ow! Geez, fine it was just an idea!" he spat.
"I want to talk to your commanding officer!" she snapped.
"Look lady, it doesn't matter how full of piss and vinegar you are: women don't join the army, end of story." He scowled in her direction before sauntering back to his guard booth.
Her fists tightened and began to shake. "I'm not taking no for an answer!" she shouted.
"Then you're not gonna get an answer," grunted the guard. "Anyway, you should count yourself lucky; plenty of men have to be dragged into the Death's Head kicking a screaming, you won't be. Now get outta here!"
"I'll stay," she growled. "I'll wait here until you let me talk to someone!"
The guard sighed and shook his head. "Go ahead and wait then," he said. "Heh, at least it'll brighten up the scenery a bit."
"Hey, Mike!" The tall blonde stopped and turned, lowering his gaze to the considerably smaller man who'd demanded his attention.
"Y'know Levi, you're supposed to call me sir," he pointed out.
The dark-haired man gave a small shrug, expressionless face unmoving. "There's been a civilian hanging around the gates all day; what's it about?"
Mike glanced over in the direction of the entrance into the Regimental headquarters, hidden behind the red brick mass of the main building. "Apparently it's some crazy woman who's been asking to see the commander," he grunted. "The guards have been telling her to clear off all day but whenever they remove her she just comes back."
"Perhaps they should have her detained," remarked Levi in a bored voice.
"Technically she's not breaking the law," pointed out Mike, "Where she chooses to spend the day is her business."
"Still, it makes it look like we're allowing squatters," grumbled Levi, "Next thing you know there'll be beggars and homeless people queuing up outside. Last thing we need is this place overrun with Poles and Jews."
"You know Ness has Polish heritage, right?"
"Yeah, but it's balanced out by a good dose of German," countered Levi. "I just hope she's gone tomorrow; I can't stand the messy look she gives the place."
When she woke up her neck and back were groaning in agony. She'd slept against the compound's outer wall, and the night outside hadn't exactly left her feeling springy. With a groan she clambered to her feet and stretched, feeling a series of small pops as her stiff muscles tried to reacquaint themselves with the concept of movement.
She looked over to where a new guard was standing by the gate. He was better dressed than many of the others she'd seen yesterday; his jacket was actually pinned properly in place and his uniform looked like it had been pressed and ironed. His helmet was polished and she could see the early morning sun glinting off it.
When he noticed her he gave a start of surprise.
"Hey, you're that woman from yesterday," he exclaimed. "Did, did you not go home last night?"
She shook her head.
"Oh geez, you're persistent I'll give you that." He sighed and shook his head. "Why don't you just go home? Even if you got to speak to the Major General himself it wouldn't do you any good."
"I have to try," she responded, determination ringing in her voice.
"Why?" asked the sentry. "Look, we all have our roles to play, and this just isn't yours. Just go home to your family."
"My father is in prison and my mother and brother are both dead; I don't have a family to go home to."
He started at that. "Oh, I'm sorry for your lose," he said. "Heinz told me what you said yesterday: about your brother being killed on the last expedition. You want revenge, don't you?"
"He was the only person I had left," she hissed.
"You won't find it here; the only thing you'll find is suffering and death." She couldn't help but start at his tone. His eyes were dark and his voice was grim. "The Scouts. Ha! That's what we've been reduced to. When this Regiment was founded people believed that we could take back ground, discover their weaknesses and eventually retake the world for mankind. Instead all we've gotten for our trouble is pain.
"20%, that's our average loses per mission. Whenever a conscript is shipped to this Regiment they're utterly terrified. And what can we say to them; they have every reason to be. Just walk away lady. Even if you could make it in here you'd immediately wish you could get out again."
She stared at him in silence for a while, eyes wide. But eventually her face settled back into a determined scowl. "I'm not going anywhere," she said, firmly.
The sentry shrugged. "Well, I've done all I can. It's not my problem anyway." From that point on he ignored her.
The sun rose steadily higher, the day's warmth settling in. It was about this time that she realised she was starving. She'd only eaten once yesterday, and that had been in the morning. She admitted she'd have to leave eventually, even if it was only to get something to eat. She'd stay as long as she could though.
A weak chuckle escaped her lips. "Michael always said I was too stubborn for my own good," she whispered.
"Is that a fact?" asked a monotone voice.
She snapped up straight to see a shot, dark haired man with a bored expression. His uniform was pristine. The brass buttons on his coat sparkled, his helmet gleamed and his coat was in such good condition the black fabric shone. Her eyes widened as she realised that the blue facings on his collar and cuffs were trimmed in gold. The three pips on his arm just below the regimental emblem denoted his ranked as Captain.
"So," he said, "you're the one who's been cluttering up our nice neat entranceway with your silent protest." He looked her up and down in a vague way. Though she was about two inches taller than him, he didn't seem particularly impressed. "What do you want?"
"I, I want to see someone in charge," she replied.
"Yeah, I know that part," he said, rolling his eyes. "Why?"
"I want to join the 66th Hussars."
The Captain raised an eyebrow. "You do realise you have tits, right?" he asked.
The vulgar language took her aback for a second, but she quickly composed herself and scowled back at him. "Yeah, so?"
"So, as a general rule we don't recruit ladies. Take a hike." The Captain turned on his heel and started to walk away.
"No," she said simply.
He paused. "No? Do you seriously think that standing out here all day makes you look tough or something? All it does it make you look stupid."
"Maybe, but I'm not leaving."
"Look, if you stay here you're gonna start attracting Auslanders and all kinds of filth. If I make arrangements for you to take an aptitude test, will you promise that after you fail you'll clear off?"
Her eyes widened in surprise. "And, and what if I pass?" she asked.
"Women can't pass," said the Captain, simply.
"Why, does it involve measuring the length of your dick?"
For a second, she could have sworn he smiled. "All right," he said, turning around to lock eyes with her, "If you pass the test you get to stay. You'd spend three years training like everyone else, you'd sleep in the barracks like everyone else, and eventually you'd go out a die beyond the Walls like everyone else. How's that sound?"
"Perfect."
"All right then. Be back here in two hours." He turned again to leave, pausing briefly to call, "and get something to eat; you look like you're about to pass out."
"So, Levi, I hear this was your bright idea?"
Levi snapped to attention, fist thumping against his chest in a salute. "Yes, Colonel Smith it was," he assented.
Colonel Erwin Smith sighed, shaking his head. "Levi, what possessed you to pull the strings to let a woman take the aptitude test?" he asked.
"When she fails she'll be out of our hair," explained the Captain, letting his salute fall.
"And if she passes, what then?"
"More Titan fodder," replied the Captain simply.
"Levi, she's a woman. The Regiment's public relations could be severely damaged just by letting her take the test."
"You seriously think our public relations can get any worse, sir?" asked Levi.
"Urgh," groaned Erwin. "Shadis is going to make you look out for her if she passes, you know that right?"
"Why should we give her special treatment, sir?" asked Levi.
"If word gets out that Death's Head Hussars let a woman join their ranks and then get raped in her sleep there would be serious consequences," explained Erwin. "A woman in the barracks is a liability. Many of these new recruits are young men, Levi. You know what they can be like."
"That's her problem."
"And it could very easily become the Regiment's problem," countered Erwin. "Look just, just keep an eye on her and make sure there's no reason for a fuss, all right?" Levi grunted noncommittedly. "What was that?" asked Erwin, gaze boring down on the smaller man.
"Yes, sir!" cried Levi, snapping back into a salute.
"Good. As the first part of your job you can supervise her testing."
"Despite bearing the name Hussars, the 66th is nominally a dragoon regiment, trained to fight both from horseback and using Omni Directional Mobility Gear," explained the Captain in a dry tone. "Using this system takes considerable skill and practice, and some raw amount of talent. To that end we'll be testing your balance, reflexes and upper body strength. If you fall too short on even one of these tests you can kiss any hope of a military career goodbye, got that?"
"Yes sir!" she replied, saluting in the way she'd seen soldiers do at public events.
"Oy," groaned Levi. He led her over to the balance rig; a series of wooden polls strung together like a swing set, except that the swing was a pair of ropes and nothing else. Levi gestured for the private assisting him (Berner, wasn't it?) to lower the ropes so she could be fastened in. He'd had to get someone to lend her a pair of trousers and a proper shirt, and he had to admit she looked kind of ridiculous trussed up in all those belts. Women weren't supposed to dress like this.
She looked somewhat uneasy as Berner fastened the ropes to her belt. "You'll be raised up into the air and suspended from those ropes. The sensation bears some resemblance to using ODM Gear," admitted Levi, "But, in a real-life situation you'll have to do a hell of a lot more than hang there. Overbalance and you've already failed." She nodded, gaze set firm. He hoped she didn't do anything annoying like cry when she fell.
"Berner, take her up," ordered Levi. The private nodded and slowly began to turn the crank handle. Her feet slowly left the ground, and Levi could tell her instinctive reaction was to flail. If she did that she'd tip over instantly.
But, she resisted her impulses, and spread out her arms and legs slightly, distributing her weight across the harness. Her body trembled slightly, but did not tip.
"Not bad," conceded Levi. He paced around the rig, looking at her sceptically. He paused directly behind her, and after a moment's consideration kicked her square in the small of her back.
She cried out in surprise and struggled to stay upright, swinging back and forth. Just as she began to over balance forward, she gave a terrific wrench and pulled herself back up right. She continued to hang there, panting. "What, what was that for?" she asked.
"In combat you will often be knocked off course unexpectedly," explained Levi, "you need to be able to account for that." Berner looked at the Captain curiously: he knew very well that what Levi had just done was not standard procedure. The Captain glared him into silence.
"All right," he relented after another minute or so, "take her down." As soon as her feet touched the ground she let out a sigh of relief. "What? Is this all proving too much for you?" enquired the Captain, voice icy cold.
She snapped upright at once, saluting again (god she was bad at it). "No, sir!" she shouted back.
"All right then, next I'll test your reflexes," said Levi, not the least bit fazed. "Berner, take her out and let's go."
"Okay, this one's pretty simple," explained Levi, "see this stick?" She nodded. "It has been marked in hundreds of milliseconds at regular intervals. You will place your hand directly below it in the area indicated. At a random moment it will drop. Your task is to catch it as soon as it does so. The higher up you grab the worse your reflexes are. Score above 150 milliseconds and you're out, got it?"
"Yes, sir," she nodded. Moblit Berner looked at his superior sceptically. If memory served him right the usual bench mark was 200 milliseconds. Still, she didn't know that, and positioned herself to catch the marked wooden stick as he showed her. Moblit wondered what the Captain was playing at.
There was a tense five seconds, and then with a click the rod fell. Her hand snapped shut almost immediately, and Moblit stepped over to take the reading. "Uh, 125, sir," he said, a little taken aback.
Levi grunted, "Guess that'll have to do." Before walking away.
"Uh, you're doing really well," Moblit told her, "Most people can't even score 150."
"Oh, um, thanks," she said, a little taken aback. "But then, why would you use a benchmark of 150 if so few people can make it?"
"Hey, hurry up you two!" called Levi. "I haven't got all day."
"We'd better go," said Moblit, nodding in the Captain's direction.
"This is your last test," said Levi coldly, "pass this and you win a one-way ticket to a horrible death in the jaws of a Titan. As you may well know the resources required to train and equip soldiers in our unit are rather substantial: ODM rigs are expensive to procure and maintain after all. For that reason we only accept recruits who won't require extensive strength training before they can start practicing with ODM gear so as to cut down costs a bit. In this test you have to prove to me that you're strong enough to handle that. You'll be holding a planking position for three full minutes. Berner, show her the position."
Berner nodded, and after carefully removing his hussar's jacket, lay down on the ground. Putting his forearms together on the ground before him, he raised himself up into a position similar to a push-up. "Keep your body straight at all times," instructed Levi, "the main strain of the exercise will be on your torso, which is one of the areas where most stress is applied while on ODMs. I'll be timing you; if you give out before the allotted time you're out, understand?"
"Yes, sir," she replied. Levi could tell this one had her worried: she wasn't physically conditioned for this kind of thing; most likely the most strenuous exercise she ever took part in was walking to the stores and back. Still, she lay down on the ground, ready to push herself up into the position Berner had demonstrated.
Levi fished a brass pocket watch out of his coat, and waited for the second hand to reach 12. Just before it got there he yelled, "start!" She pushed herself up, and at first didn't seem particularly bothered. After about thirty seconds had passed however, she had begun to tremble from the effort. After a minute she was sweating.
Levi watched her with what could have been mistaken for a bored expression on his face by anyone who didn't know him. At about two minutes she was trembling and grunting, ginger hair beginning to glisten with sweat.
Suddenly Levi snapped forwards. "What's the matter!" he demanded, surprising Berner by raising his voice. "Is your prissy female body not able to handle the stress?!"
With a snarl she managed to look up at him, face dripping with sweat. "No, sir," she managed through gritted teeth.
"Then don't fucking fall down, private!" snapped Levi.
Face disfigured and scarlet red from effort she stared at the ground, willing herself to stay upright. Eventually though, it was all too much and she collapsed forward onto her face. "L-let me try again," she gasped, looking up at Levi with an expression of desperation.
"Now what would be the point of that?" asked Levi.
"I can do it, please!" she begged.
"In your condition? I doubt it." remarked Levi.
Her head drooped and she stared blankly down at the sandy ground of the training fields. "I, guess I'd better leave then," she whispered.
"What for?" asked Levi. "You made four and half minutes; the bench mark is three."
"Wha, what?"
"Congratulations Petra Rall, you are now eligible to become part of the 94th Cadet Corps for the 66th "Death's Head" Hussars. If you survive that experience you will be in line for one of the most agonising forms of death known to mankind."
"You mean, I passed?" she asked, still somewhat dumbfound.
Levi looked at her nonplussed. "Maybe I should have tested your intellect as well," he remarked.
"No, no, sorry sir. It's just, I thought for sure I…Wait, why didn't you tell me I'd already passed the minimum time?" Petra asked.
"The same reason I kicked you on the balance rig and lied to you that you needed to score a minimum of 150 milliseconds on the reflex test."
"Which is?"
"Work it out for yourself," he grunted. "Berner," he said, turning to the private. "Take Miss Rall over to administration. Tell them she's to be enrolled as part of the 94th, and arrange to get her fitted for her uniform."
"Uh, yes sir," replied Moblit, still a little confused by everything that had just gone on. He helped Petra onto her somewhat unsteady feet as the Captain strode away towards the mess hall.
"Uh, Captain, sir!" called Petra.
"What is it?" he asked, turning to look over his shoulder at her in annoyance.
"I'm afraid I never caught your name, sir."
"It's Levi."
"But, what about your last name?"
"I don't have one."
"Oh, well, thank you, Captain Levi."
His only response was a vague grunt.