Disclaimer: Girls und Panzer is copyright Actas and Girls und Panzer Projekt. I do not own anything apart from the original characters herein.

Mauskateers

Ceylon stopped in front of the large oak door and knocked smartly on it. "Enter," Darjeeling's voice came from within.

As captain of the St. Gloriana Women's Academy sensha-dō team, Darjeeling had office space set aside for her use in one of the smaller rooms. Despite its function, the wood paneling, Persian carpet and a trolley complete with sterling silver tea service leant the office the air of a stately home. Darjeeling was sitting behind a heavy, antique desk cradling her omnipresent cup of tea.

"Ah, Ceylon-san! Thank you for coming so promptly. Please sit down." Darjeeling indicated a large Victorian armchair facing her, into which Ceylon sat. Darjeeling put down her teacup and leaned forwards. "I'm sure you were watching the live broadcast of the National Championship finals."

"Of course, commander," Ceylon replied. "One of the best I've seen, as a matter of fact."

"I agree," said Darjeeling. She steepled her fingers. "What was your reaction to the Maus?"

"It was a bit of a shock, to put it mildly."

"And what did you think of Miho-san's tactic to defeat it?"

Ceylon paused to consider. "I remember laughing out loud."

Darjeeling smiled and turned the monitor on the desk around so that Ceylon could view it. It showed a video of the finals match, paused at the moment the Type 89 drove on top of the Maus to block its turret. "I said at the time, we could try doing that with our Mark VI."

Ceylon found herself grinning. "That sounds like a challenge."

"The English have a saying: the early bird catches the worm."

"Pardon?"

Darjeeling sighed, but maintained her poise. "It's never too soon to start planning for next season. Now that we know what Kuromorimine can bring to battle, we need to find a way to defeat it. I have been impressed with you and your crew's dash and élan, Ceylon-san. If anyone can help bring down this juggernaut, it's you."

"Thank you, commander! We will not disappoint you," Ceylon replied. "Nilgiri will be pleased to try something crazy like this. She's been watching an old TV show a friend of hers at Saunders told her about, The Dukes of Hazzard."

Darjeeling cocked her head to one side questioningly.

"Er, well, it's about some American fellows with funny accents fighting corrupt authorities in a car they call 'General Lee'", Ceylon attempted to explain. "It has lots of automobile stunts in it."

Darjeeling blinked, her brow furrowing slightly.

"No, really, it's hilarious! They shout 'Yee-haw' whenever they jump the car over something. And they play banjo music during the chase scenes…" Ceylon tailed off.

Darjeeling opened her mouth, closed it again, thought for a few moments and finally settled on "…Well make sure she doesn't get too carried away."

"Never fear, commander! When do we ever get carried away?"

"I don't think commander Darjeeling quite approves of your choice of viewing material", said Ceylon to her classmate and driver Nilgiri as they walked towards the training area the next day. "She seemed… bemused." Ceylon was a second-year student at St. Gloriana, tall, with grey eyes and brown hair fashioned into a bob cut.

Nilgiri was unconcerned. "We don't all watch Downton Abbey, you know. Anyway, I like it. It's almost as much fun as Top Gear." She wore her dark blonde hair in a ponytail and had wide brown eyes.

Ceylon sighed. "I know. She's going for the 'proper British lady' angle, and we're doing the 'eccentric Brits' to a tee. Hey, Keemun!"

This last was directed towards a red-headed, blue-eyed girl pacing near the vehicle hangers. Keemun stopped glaring at her watch and waved to them.

"'Morning Ceylon, 'morning Nilgiri. So, is it true that we've been tasked with something other than reconnaissance?"

"You could say that," replied Ceylon. The trio entered the nearest hanger. Beams of sunlight from the skylights high above mingled with the harsh glare of fluorescent light strips. The air was heavy with the scent of oil and gasoline. At one end of a line of Cromwell cruiser tanks sat their vehicle, a Vickers light tank Mk. VIc. The fastest tank in St. Gloriana's arsenal, it was also the smallest, least armoured and most feebly armed. It was well suited for the reconnaissance role but as Keemun never failed to remind them, it was useless for destroying enemy tanks. Keemun wanted more than anything to get behind the sights of a QF 17 pounder. Ceylon, however, was perfectly content with the challenges of being a scout and Nilgiri would not consider moving to anything slower. The Mark VI was her 'sports car'.

"Commander Darjeeling," said Ceylon, "would like us to see if we can drive this rattletrap contraption on top of a Maus."

Nilgiri gave a slow smile. "I think I am going to enjoy this assignment."

Keemun was more cautious in her enthusiasm. "Sounds fun. But how are we going to get up there? We don't have a Hetzer to wedge underneath."

"Well, that's what we have to figure out," said Ceylon. "The first order of business as I see it is to get hold of a Maus to test our ideas."

"You want us to steal Kuromorimine's?" said Keemun, looking more interested.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a mockup."

"Oh."

"I expect that the automotive club can help us," offered Nilgiri. "They're the ones that do all the maintenance and repairs on our tanks, after all."

"Just what I was thinking," replied Ceylon. "Let's wander over and ask them."

St. Gloriana's automotive club was not far away; they had their own hanger located on the end of the row. Ceylon rang the bell located by the blue-painted front access door.

"I don't believe I've ever been over here," declared Ceylon as they waited. The others shook their heads. After a minute when no-one came, she rang the bell again.

"The door's unlocked," noted Keemun. "Let's take a look. I have a class starting soon and I'd rather not waste any more time than I have to."

They trooped inside. The hanger was similar to the one they had just visited, but there were no tanks inside. Instead, metal shelves of spare parts and large tool chests on casters filled much of the space. There was no one visible.

"Hello?" called Ceylon. Rounding some stacks of tires, they came upon an old open-topped car, painted a lustrous dark green. It faced one of the folding garage doors that ran down the side walls of the hanger and was being worked on: the engine panels were removed and it sat in a pool of radiance cast by several utility lights on stands.

"Hand me the 1/2 inch torque spanner, would you?" a disembodied voice called.

Ceylon and the others jumped. "Er…," began Ceylon.

"On the peg board behind you, second row, fifth from the left," said the voice patiently.

Keemun retrieved the spanner and handed it to Ceylon. "Where are…?"

"Under the car. Just set it down by the edge."

Ceylon put the spanner down under the car's running board and a hand grabbed it. "Just a moment…"

After a minute, a girl slid out from under the car. She was dressed in a dark blue boiler suit over her school uniform and had a few grease smudges on her face. Standing up, she was a good foot taller than Ceylon. She had a short mop of unruly black hair and wore a pair of wire-framed glasses. "What do can I do for you?" she asked.

"My friends and I are members of the sensha-dō team," began Ceylon.

"Oh, you lot," said the girl shortly. "What do you want now?"

"Well, we wanted to get your help with building a mockup."

The girl frowned. "Look, we're all pretty busy here, what with having to patch up your tanks every time you take them for a spin. Don't touch that, if you don't mind," she added to Nilgiri, who was crouched down examining the front of the dark green car.

"This is a Speed Six, isn't it?" breathed Nilgiri. "It's magnificent."

The girl's face softened appreciably. "Yes, yes it is."

"And far superior to the ones with the Roots blower," continued Nilgiri, eyes shining.

The girl finally smiled. "That's what Bentley-sama always said. 'There's no replacement for displacement'."

"I'm Nilgiri-san," said Nilgiri, offering her hand. "And these are my teammates, Ceylon-san our commander and Keemun-san our gunner."

"Lapsang Souchong-san," replied the girl, shaking Nilgiri's hand. "But just call me Lapsang. Pleased to meet a fellow car nut."

She led them to the back of the hanger where there were benches set up with computers and CAD machines. "Sorry I was short with you, but we keep getting side-tracked from our own projects by tank-related work. Now that the Nationals are over, we were hoping to get some time for ourselves. Hang on, I'll put the kettle on. I'm the only one here at the moment." Lapsang heated up the water and served them some tea. "So what's this mockup you need?"

"A full scale Maus," Ceylon replied.

Lapsang's eyebrows rose. "What for, exactly?"

"Briefly, we need to practice driving on top of it."

"Ah, you're trying to emulate Ōarai."

"Pretty much. Commander Darjeeling wants us to determine how to take it down."

"And what tank do you drive?"

"The Mark VI light."

Lapsang narrowed her eyes. "Did you by chance happen to drive it off a cliff during the Nationals?"

Ceylon looked embarrassed. "Only slightly."

"That took us two full days to repair."

"Sorry."

"We appreciate how much work you put in to keep our tanks running," Nilgiri interjected. "Knowing that we could count on you to have us up to scratch for the next match really helped our morale."

Lapsang looked mollified. "Well, you shouldn't have any trouble fitting on top of a Maus," she mused. "All right, your request has piqued my interest. We should have something for you in a few days."

It was two days later that Ceylon, Nilgiri and Keemun were summoned by Lapsang. She and four other members of the automotive club were grouped around one of the hanger's larger set of sliding doors, teacups steaming in the brisk morning air. Lapsang began without preamble. "All set? OK, open it up."

The doors slid smoothly back and Ceylon sucked in her breath. The looming shape inside was unmistakable. "You did it!"

"Well, don't sound so surprised," said Lapsang drily. "Let me give you the tour."

Up close, the details of the mock-Maus's implementation became apparent. There were no tracks; the details were all painted on.

"It's plywood, with an internal steel frame so that it will support the weight of your tank. And..." Lapsang looked pleased with herself. "It moves!"

"It does?"

"We anticipated that you would want to test your mettle against a moving target to make your tests as realistic as possible. So, we salvaged an old Mitsubishi truck chassis to mount the frame on. It won't move very fast, but neither does the real thing," Lapsang wrinkled her nose in derision. "We derived the dimensions from the video of the finals, so it should be quite accurate."

"What about the turret?" asked Keemun, squinting up at the length of PVC pipe masquerading as the 128 mm main gun.

"It rotates, but it's not motorized. Someone riding inside can turn it without too much effort."

"Fantastic!" said Ceylon with feeling. She shook Lapsang's hand. "Thanks very much for your time and effort."

Lapsang smiled. "Oh, we never back down from a challenge like this. Right then, what do you want to try first?"

Ceylon had them move the Maus to the middle of the practice field. "We should start by just driving up onto the engine deck and work our way from there."

Lapsang's team produced a vehicle ramp and placed it facing the mockup's glacis. The huge turret was rotated to move the guns out of the way and Nilgiri carefully drove the Mark VI up the incline and onto the front of the Maus. "I feel like I should plant a flag," she quipped.

"OK, so far so good," said Ceylon. "Now try turning to one side and blocking the turret."

The Mark VI executed part of a left turn before the right tread hit the side of the Maus' turret and ran halfway up it, tilting the light tank over precariously. It hung suspended for a moment before overturning slowly onto its side. Lapsang shook her head mournfully.

A derrick was procured to get the Mark VI back upright and Nilgiri tried again. This time she successfully completed the maneuver. "Well done, you!" cheered Keemun.

"I'd like to try jumping our tank onto the Maus next," said Nilgiri. The others looked taken aback.

"This isn't just because of watching that stuff on TV, is it?" challenged Ceylon.

Nilgiri shook her head. "Look, as Keemun has pointed out, we don't have a Hetzer. We may have to launch ourselves off a slope to get our tank up there."

Ceylon shrugged acquiescence. Lapsang, looking amused, went away and came back with a crash helmet. "Safety first," she said, handing it to Nilgiri. The ramp was repositioned to face the side of the Maus with a couple of meters separation. Distance markers and stopwatches were set up to gather data.

Nilgiri lined up for the jump. She revved the throttle aggressively and engaged the clutch. The Mark VI accelerated across the field, went up the incline, tipped over the edge and wound up wedged between the Maus' hull and the lip of the ramp.

"Textbook," deadpanned Lapsang.

After she was extricated, Nilgiri had them raise the end of the ramp and she tried again with a longer run up. This time she landed on the engine deck but couldn't stop in time and skidded straight off the other side. The Mark VI landed on its nose with a crash.

"I'll have it repaired and ready for tomorrow," promised Lapsang, trying to stifle her laughter.

Nilgiri practiced over the next few days until she could successfully jump and stick the landing more often than not. "Now I have to do it with the Maus in motion," she declared.

Lapsang drafted a couple of the club members to handle the Maus. It would drive at a steady rate past the ramp where Nilgiri waited. More markers were placed in the ground along its path. "Based your previous jumps and on the Maus' top speed, you should start your run when it reaches the eighth marker," said Lapsang after some back-of-the-envelope calculations. "We'll refine that estimate as we proceed." She was crouched on top of the Mark VI's hull talking to Nilgiri in the driver's position. "Good luck!" She slapped the top of Nilgiri's helmet and hopped down.

Ceylon and Keemun were standing a safe distance away, ready to observe the test when a voice from behind startled them.

"I see you have been busy, Ceylon-san! How are things coming along?"

Darjeeling would have to show up now, Ceylon thought. She turned around. Darjeeling and Orange Pekoe were staring at the setup with some interest.

"Er, well…" began Ceylon.

She was interrupted by the Mark VI leaping off the ramp, caroming off the Maus' turret and landing upside down with a muddy thud in the field beyond. "I'm OK!" called Nilgiri from somewhere underneath.

"…it's going swimmingly!" finished Ceylon brightly.

Darjeeling's expression had become distinctly fixed. "I do hope this testing isn't going to be too hard on our tanks…" she murmured.

"Well, practice makes perfect, as the proverb says," said Ceylon in an inspired moment.

The corners of Darjeeling's mouth twitched upwards. "Quite so, Ceylon-san."

Darjeeling observed the automotive club members righting the light tank. "I see you have enlisted the services of Lapsang Souchong-san. She can be a bit temperamental, but she is also the top student in the school's engineering courses. You are in good hands."

"Indeed, commander."

Darjeeling and Orange Pekoe departed. Orange Pekoe turned after they had gone a few meters and gave Ceylon a surreptitious thumbs-up.

Despite Orange Pekoe's optimism, Nilgiri was forced to admit defeat a few days later. "I can't make the jump consistently. It will be even harder during an actual match… there are just too many variables." Ceylon nodded gloomily. She had reached the same conclusion.

"However…" continued Nilgiri. "I have an idea. We'll need to borrow the Churchill."

After getting Darjeeling's permission, they drove the heavy infantry tank over to the automotive club's hanger. Nilgiri outlined to Lapsang what she wanted and a few hours later the Churchill emerged with a flat, steel platform mounted behind the turret. Two narrow ramps lead up to it from the back.

"The Churchill will drive alongside the Maus and I will drive our tank up the ramps, onto the platform and across to the Maus," explained Nilgiri. "It will be like boarding an enemy ship in the days of sail."

"Congratulations," said Lapsang. "While similar to an ARK, I think it's unique enough to say that you've invented a new 'funny'. General Hobart would be proud."

Lapsang's ingenuity knew no bounds. She fashioned a sight for Nilgiri out of wood and bits of wire, which when lined up with a mark painted on the back of the Churchill would ensure that the Mark VI was aligned with the ramps. Nilgiri, meanwhile, had fastened a skull and crossbones pennant to the light tank's radio antenna. With practice, the Churchill and the Mark VI could approach the Maus from behind and have Nilgiri up on its roof in less than a minute. Nilgiri was ecstatic. Ceylon, though, was troubled.

The next day, she met with Nilgiri and Keemun in the common room. "Nilgiri, you've done a superb job. Unfortunately, I think we can't see the forest for the trees."

Keemun narrowed her eyes. "Don't you start with the proverbs."

"I think it's more of an idiom," said Ceylon. "But the fact remains that I don't think getting our tank on top of the Maus is going to do any good."

"We've spent a lot of time on this," protested Nilgiri.

"I know, but think about it: the Type 89 could barely hold the turret still. We weigh what, seven tons less?"

"Oh.."

"We don't have a way to stop the Maus from moving," continued Ceylon. "And we can't know if there will be a way for one of our other tanks to shoot downwards onto it during a match. Sorry, but it's not on."

"Ah well, at least we had some fun while it lasted." Nilgiri put a brave face on it, but Ceylon could sense her disappointment.

"I'll give commander Darjeeling the bad news tomorrow. I will be sure to let her know how much hard work you and the automotive club put into this."

Keemun looked thoughtful.

Keemun tracked down Ceylon in the hallway between classes the next morning.

"I think I have a solution to our problem with the Maus," she announced. She outlined her idea to Ceylon, who couldn't help grinning. "It's very... direct, but sometimes the simplest solutions are the best. You'll have to talk to Lapsang about building it."

"You can tell Darjeeling-san that we have completed our assignment and will put on a demonstration," said Keemun confidently.

"Something like this demands a proper production," pondered Ceylon. "I will indulge my theatrical side."

With Lapsang's ever invaluable help, everything was prepared. The afternoon chosen for the demonstration arrived and the entire contingent of the St. Gloriana sensha-dō team turned up at the practice field, along with a sizeable portion of the rest of the student body. True to form, Darjeeling and Orange Pekoe had erected folding screens and were settled in chairs with plenty of tea on hand.

Two areas on the field far from the spectators had been curtained off and speakers were mounted on stands facing the crowd. When everyone had arrived, Ceylon, Nilgiri and Keemun walked out onto the field in their scarlet battle uniforms. Ceylon was also wearing her lucky scarf, striped in the school colours.

"WELCOME!" boomed Ceylon, her lapel microphone amplifying her words.

Darjeeling twisted in her seat. "I don't suppose someone could turn the volume down a b-"

"DURING THE NATIONAL SENSHA-DŌ CHAMPIONSHIP FINALS, YOU WITNESSED THE DOWNFALL OF KUROMORIMINE'S DREADED MAUS!" continued Ceylon. There were some cheers from the crowd; Ōarai High School had been a popular winner.

"NOW PREPARE TO SEE THIS FEARSOME BEAST LAID LOW ONCE MORE!" The cheering intensified.

The curtain on the left side of the field fell, revealing the Maus mockup surrounded by tendrils of simulated fog. The speakers began blasting the ominous opening to Mussorgsky's Night on Bald Mountain, while Ceylon and Nilgiri cowered dramatically. The audience was getting into the spirit of the show and began booing the super-heavy tank.

"AHHH! THE FOE APPEARS! WHO WILL SAVE US FROM THIS MONSTROSITY?!" wailed Nilgiri.

The music changed jarringly mid-chord to the theme from Superman. "FEAR NOT!" bellowed Keemun, striding over to the curtain on the right. "FOR HELP IS AT HAND! I GIVE YOU..." she paused for effect. Darjeeling leaned forwards in anticipation. The curtain dropped.

"THE CHURCHILL AVRE!"

The first thing the spectators saw was a two-dimensional plywood cutout in the outline of a Churchill tank. It was painted realistically in St. Gloriana's livery and sported an additional logo: a pair of mouse ears with the familiar red circle-and-bar prohibition symbol drawn through them.

The second thing they noticed was the wide, blunt muzzle protruding from the turret. Keemun picked up a lanyard leading out from behind the Churchill silhouette. "EAT HIGH EXPLOSIVE, RODENT!" She gave the lanyard a sharp tug.

A flat bang echoed around the training ground as the 290 mm spigot mortar mounted behind the cutout launched a forty pound canister-shaped projectile towards the mockup. All eyes followed its perfect parabolic trajectory across the field to the point of impact on the roof of the Maus' turret...

Ceylon felt more than heard the resulting blast. She was dimly aware of an intense flash and the audience throwing themselves to the ground before she herself dove for cover. The shock wave winded her slightly. Eventually, she lifted her head to see a pillar of smoke and finely pulverized wood chips hanging over the location formerly occupied by the Maus. Of the tank itself, only parts of the frame and chassis remained, twisted and blackened.

Ceylon struggled to her feet, ears ringing. Nilgiri and the rest of the crowd did likewise. No one seemed to have been injured. Keemun was standing by the AVRE prop staring at the end of the lanyard with a stunned expression. The speaker pylons and Darjeeling' and Orange Pekoe's folding screens had been blown flat. All the windows in the nearby gymnasium, fortunately unoccupied, were cracked and broken.

"AND THAT CONCLUDES OUR DEMONSTRATION. THANK YOU." said Ceylon meekly into her microphone. The speakers still worked, anyway.

"Ceylon-san!" Darjeeling, looking uncharacteristically disheveled, emerged from the mass of students and made straight for her. Orange Pekoe trailed behind looking apprehensive.

"Y-yes?" stammered Ceylon.

Darjeeling brushed an errant strand of hair out of her face, closed her eyes and let out a breath. Finally, she gave a small smile.

"Jolly good show. Carry on."

She swept past, heading back to the school.

"Yes, commander!" Ceylon replied in wonderment. The surrounding students began to clap one by one until the applause reached a crescendo.

Ceylon, Nilgiri and Keemun were sitting in the common room having tea three days later when Lapsang approached them.

"Did you see the latest edition?" she asked, tossing the school newspaper onto the table. The headline was clear: SENSHA-DŌ TEAM MEMBERS CAUSE ¥100,000 DAMAGE TO SCHOOL PROPERTY.

Keemun scowled at the newspaper. "I won't have any spending money for months, with paying that off. My parents are not happy."

"At least we didn't get expelled," pointed out Nilgiri.

"Darjeeling-san put in a word on your behalf," revealed Lapsang. "And mine too." She smiled lopsidedly. "The paper refers to you as the 'three mauskateers'. I don't even get a mention."

"You can be D'Artagnan, then," offered Ceylon.

"So, is the school getting an AVRE?" asked Lapsang.

"We're not sure. When we asked, Darjeeling-san said something about 'least said, soonest mended', whatever that means," said Nilgiri.

"I think she means we won't discuss it until the fuss dies down," clarified Ceylon. "We don't actually know if it will be able to knock out the real Maus."

"Of course it will," said Keemun. "It was designed to be a bunker-buster, after all. I don't suppose the federation-approved shell has quite so much HE in it, though..."

"Yes, sorry about that," said Lapsang. "We don't have very much experience with pyrotechnics. Vehicles are more our thing."

"Oh, think nothing of it," said Ceylon. She waved to an empty chair. "Will you join us? Misery loves company."

"I knew it!" said Keemun. "You've been hanging around Darjeeling-san too much."

Ceylon grinned. "So, Lapsang, have you ever watched The Dukes of Hazzard?"

End

Author's Notes:

I hadn't intended to write any more than a screenplay for the St. Gloriana vs. Kuromorimine semi-finals match, which was something that I had been thinking about for a long time. The review comments for that fanfic made me want to try doing another one, this time in proper prose. I decided to expand on my OC, the crew of the Vickers Mark VI, which Darjeeling references in episode 12.

Thanks to the reviewers on this site for their feedback and for providing Lapsang's name via an exhaustive list of tea varieties.

I'm sure most GuP fans are familiar with tanks, but here's a bit of background detail:

Major General Percy Hobart was an armoured warfare specialist and engineer who created the 'funnies', a series of specialized tanks that were used extensively on D-Day. He was a major influence on General Guderian. It is not surprising that he would be a hero to Lapsang.

The Churchill ARK was one of the 'funnies'. It was a turretless Churchill that could act as a ramp or bridge for other vehicles.

The Churchill AVRE was another 'funny'. It fired a 290 mm mortar shell known as the 'flying dustbin' and was used to demolish fortifications. So far, I haven't found any reason to disallow it from sensha-dō competition apart from its impracticality.

W.O. Bentley designed racing cars during the 1930's. The Speed Six Bentley was the most successful. The earlier, supercharged 'blower' Bentley suffered from reliability issues. He's another of Lapsang's heroes.

The Dukes of Hazzard isn't very British, but it was still wildly popular there. Other influences on this story: Top Gear, Mythbusters, The Italian Job.