A/N: This story might start a little slow but there were a number of things I want to explore in a VC fanfic, including what was happening behind the scenes. Things won't adhere directly to the canon plot, it part to keep from being too predictable, in part because it doesn't necessarily work with how I write war-oriented fiction, and in part so I can explore more freely. There are some themes in VC that interested me, that I wanted to see in a bit more detail; the concept of Valkyrur worship, treatment of darcsen, how Squad 7 fit in with its sister units. For those craving action, don't worry, it's coming in spades, but there is more to war than the 1% terror, and some of that can be very interesting too.
Cruising through the frigid night air, the heavily-laden train made its way through the moonlit Gallian countryside. Refugees, soldiers and materiel from Bruhl, Grumman, Hunnerdam and a dozen smaller villages, they were withdrawing back through the shrinking defensive lines to Fort Randgriz. Militia Divisions, both refitting and newly forming, were waiting for them so the Gallians could return and fight another day for their homes.
A pair of locomotives laboured away at the front of the train, their ivory smoke curling just overhead. A series of passenger trains, freight cars and a series of flat bed trailers followed on like faithful ducklings. The flatbeds were adorned with trucks, tractors, bulky supplies, artillery and most impressively, a number of heavily-armoured tanks. Halfway down the long train was a particular tank, unique from the others, with the profile of a medium tank, but with the terrifying Theimer L40/88 cannon normally seen only on dedicated tank destroyers. Two markings already decorated the sloped armour of the experimental tank. The Edelweiss had seen action in the defence of Bruhl already. Carried along by the train away from the day's battles, it sat at rest, like a great cat, sated only for the moment.
Rugged up in heavy azure coats, three people stood next to the Edelweiss, rifles slung over their shoulders as they braved the whipping of the cold air as the train rushed on. The tallest was Welkin Gunther, avid nature-follower and alumnus of the Randgriz University. He was also a gifted tank commander, and a man unflappable under even the fiercest of fire.
The smallest of them was Isara Gunther, Welkin's adopted younger-sister, and an engineer of prodigious skill, a Darcsen persecuted, yet unbowed, whose biological father had devised the tremendous tank they rode into battle. Despite her age, her skills as an engineer gave way to no one, and she drove the Edelweiss in battle with an innate skill that was further refined by battle experience.
The third was Alicia Melchiott, apprentice, and aspiring, baker; a country-bred girl with an active nature. She was also one of the senior non-commissioned officers of the Bruhl town watch, having been an active member from her cadets days, whose performance in the retrograde defence of her town had been keenly noted.
Word had come down the trench-wireless that when they made it to Randgriz to be incorporated into the Militia, Alicia was likely to see a rocker underneath her Sergeant's chevrons. However, with the Bruhl fallen and her town guard killed, wounded, captured or otherwise scattered to the four winds, the prospect seemed less like an exciting achievement and more like a simple change in a deadened routine.
"Ah, you can see it now," said Welkin, breaking into the quiet, speaking loudly to be heard over the rushing wind.
"See wh-, oh, Castle Randgriz," replied Isara as she saw the cluster of lights through a draw in the rolling hills as the train banked across the land.
The glittering cluster in the distance of the walled city amongst the night-swept countryside was like a diamond upon black velvet and drew a smile even from the shell-shocked and drained Sergeant Melchiott. "I love the Castle by night," she added.
"You've been there before?" asked Welkin.
She nodded, bobbing her head with a hint of her usual energy. "Yeah, although last time I was in the train rather than on top of the train. Boss sent me here for some baking workshops, and the non-com training was at Fort Randgriz." They were quiet for a while longer, just watching as the train slowly banked through a turn, coming onto a heading that would be the home stretch to where their new lives in the Militia awaited.
Light flashed on the horizon over their shoulders, drawing their eyes away from the city. A few seconds later, distant thunder rumbled over their ears. Slowly at first, gradually increasing, more flashes lit up the horizon. Isara glanced up at the cloudless night skies, brow furrowing with confusion. "Lightning storm?" she pondered aloud. "Wait, no...," she corrected as realisation dawned.
"Artillery," explained Welkin with a nod. "The sound travels slower than the flash of light so-"
"I know the physics as well as you, Welks," interrupted Isara huffily.
Minutes continued to pass and the barrage on the horizon grew ever fiercer. Whoever was getting hit, and they had no way of knowing who it was, Imperial or Gallian, would be feeling a lot of pain. Soon it looked like the most ferocious thunderstorm, flash after flash with a steady crackling thunder rolling in, gaps between the noises all but disappearing.
"Valkyria's Shield," invoked Alicia softly. Briefly she tapped the back of either hand, a reference to the shield and lance of the Valkyria, a small obeisance to the Valkyrur of lore, whom most of Gallia, and Europa, revered to various degrees in a sort of rather disorganised religion.
Alicia had never been a particularly religious woman, and had always been uneasy around the anti-Darcsen elements that followed the faith, but there were few atheists in foxholes. A near-miss from a tank round had brought back a few things in addition to taking her hearing and sensibility for an hour; namely, her lunch, and some of the religious instruction of her orphanage. Useless superstition or not, anything that might keep the tank shells at bay was worth a trial. It wasn't something she had tried to share with her new friends; her new kamaraden. For one, they were both intensely in the rational world, following science and natural processes, rather than the supernatural. For two, the Darcsen people, of whom Isara proudly counted herself a member, hated Valkyrur worship with a persecuted passion.
"I hope that's our barrage," the Sergeant added, the appeal sounding a bit feeble even to her own ears.
"Drumfire, now," noted Welkin grimly, putting a name to the terrible phenomena. "Probably ours," he said after a while as he put on his strategist's cap. "Imperials have been moving too fast to set up that much artillery support."
As the train ploughed on through the moon-lit night and the morbid lightshow continued unabated on the horizon, Isara shook her head. "I hope so, Welkin."
Light, daylight this time instead of the rather more infernal light of the night-time artillery, had crept over the horizon by time the cranes lifted the Edelweiss off the railcar and onto a tank trailer. As much as the Edelweiss could handle the roads of Randgriz with aplomb, the reverse was not true, and the treads of the elephantine tank would chew up the cobblestone and sealed gravel in short order. The rail yard was shot through with shafts of golden light from the dawning sun, forcing Welkin to shield his eyes as his sister backed a hefty 5t prime mover up to the trailer.
A truck and a staff car made their way across the rail yard in their direction, kicking up plumes of dust from the packed gravel that caught the sunlight. Spotting them as they bee lined for the Edelweiss, Welkin plucked up his binoculars to get a better look.
"Hey. Company," noted Alicia from where she stood alongside Welkin. "Who is it?"
"Militia 3rd Infantry Regiment," muttered Welkin distractedly. "There's a Lieutenant in the staff car with a Squad 1 badge. The rest that I can see are engineers; Regimental Engineering badges and one Squad 7 badge." He looked over at the woman who had been under fire alongside him just the day before. Before he could say any more, a frustrated shout reached them.
"Alicia!" yelled Isara. "You're supposed to be spotting for me!"
"Just hang on, Isara, we've got company; engineers will be able to help with that better than we can," she yelled back.
With a sigh inaudible over the growling ragnoline engine, Isara hopped out of the cab and walked over to join her friends, slinging her rifle back over her shoulder. Their welcoming committee slowed down as they approached and rolled gently to a halt, letting a blonde officer with tank command patches and a familiar face vault out of his staff car. He walked over to Welkin and extended a hand.
"Hey there, w-." He stopped and blinked.
"Faldio Landzaat?" exclaimed Welkin as the name abruptly occurred to him.
"Welkin Gunther," replied Faldio with a laugh. "A 'daring tank commander in Bruhl' the Captain said; I might have known it was you," he went on, shaking his head ruefully.
"Great to see you in one piece," said Welkin, as he glanced over to see a detachment of engineers gathering together, eight all told, wearing a mishmash of uniforms and work coveralls.
"You too, you too, Welkin." He grinned, a rakish and wry thing. "Nice to break the flow of bad news, really." He glanced at the two women with his old friend. "Hello hello, I see Welkin has been keeping good company."
Alicia saluted smartly, hair bobbing under the scarf as her body snapped into place. "Sir."
Isara likewise saluted the officer, albeit with a much less practiced rendition. "Faldio, it's good to see you again," she greeted.
Faldio turned from Alicia and marvelled at the Darcsen girl. "Isara, you keep growing up in leaps and bounds! Still keeping Welk's feet on the ground?"
"Yes, sir," replied the young woman with the long-suffering smile. "Your friends are growing restless though, I think," she pointed out, nodding at the milling cluster of engineers.
"Ah, yes, yes," remembered Faldio, straightening up his casual slouch. He tossed a glance over his shoulder. "Sorry, Lieutenant," he directed at one of the Engineering Squad men. Welkin blinked in surprise, as it was directed at a man without any visible rank insignias who was absolutely covered in grease stains and dirt, and totally dishevelled. "Well, if this is the new Looey, then this must be Sergeant Melchiott and Corporal Gunther and that," he said, raising a hand to the tank resting above them on the heavy tank trailer. "Well ... that must be the tank the rumours were talking about. What a beauty," he said admiringly, sporting a smile and a friendly shake of the head.
The engineering officer stepped forward, chewing on more of the snuff that had stained his teeth brown. He looked up at the tank, eyes going wide. "Nice lines, very nice lines; wouldja look at that." He looked over his shoulder at Faldio. "Best lines I've seen on anything since that burlesque show in Vasel we caught." He looked back at the tank, oblivious to Faldio giving his best 'who me?' look to Alicia.
"It's the Edelweiss. She's thirty-two tonne, eight-hundred horsepower, I can hit sixty on a road with her, fifty cross country, and she's mounting a Theimer forty, eighty-eight," explained Isara from where she's walked up.
"Valkyrur's ass," swore the engineer as he glanced over at the girl. "Good stuff, darkhair, good stuff," he noted, sliding the racial epitaph in without thought, or heat, but Welkin and Alicia grimaced uncomfortably. "She all experimental shit we can't maintain?"
Isara nodded, unfazed by the gruff engineer. "Mostly standard parts, anything else I know how to cast and fashion; father wanted to keep it as straight-forward to maintain as he could. They're just expensive to make, that's all."
The engineering officer nodded to himself. "So, Theimer's own daughter; I'll be Valkdamned." He laughed, and then turned back to the waiting enlisted men. "A'right, Karl, Dallas, Nadine, you better stick to this girl like glue, learn everything about the Edelweiss you can. My lads won't be able to help this one much."
Three engineers with Squad 7 patches stepped forward to talk to Isara as the Lieutenant clambered up on the tank trailer to get a better look. Welkin noted the patch numbers and turned to his old friend. "Hey, is it seven?" he asked.
Faldio caught the reference and nodded. "Just look properly surprised when the Captain tells you. We had to rebuild three of the nine squads after they got cut off and captured. Squad 7 is the last one waiting for its command and tank berths; add two and two, you get Squad 7."
Welkin glanced subtly at Alicia. Faldio nodded. "No Squad Sergeant yet." He flashed a thumbs-up sign at his old friend.
The Vasel-built Greenway staff car growled pleasantly as it made its way down the highway from Randgriz proper to the Fort, a slash of tar black cutting through the verdant meadows and rolling hills. Over Welkin's shoulder the hefty Fouzen-A2 prime mover followed them carefully, hauling the immensely heavy tank effortlessly, as row after row of tire rolled on with Isara at the wheel. The engineer's cargo truck rounded out their little convoy.
Up front it was just Faldio, Welkin and Alicia in the staff car, with Faldio driving them to their new homes.
"So, who is the captain?" asked Alicia, able to talk a bit more freely with the privacy and the friendship between the two Lieutenants.
"One Eleanor Varrot," replied Faldio. "EW1 vet, made her way up from mud-pounding. Good officer, good grasp of tactics, decent with people. She is an ice queen though, so watch your step. Can be very cold-blooded."
"How did she lose a third of the regiment?" asked Welkin as he tried to identify passing plant-life by the roadside.
Faldio grimaced. "Half the regiment; the rest of us got mauled as well. Not her fault; Division made the damn-fool orders. The rest of us had to do and die. All too many of us did just that." He sighed deeply, leaning over the wheel. "Some general was relieved for it. Didn't bring any of the dead back. Didn't get our people out of Imperial prison camps."
They carried on in silence, watching the sprawling military camp in the distance grow ever nearer.