Unified Year 1923, Munich
With a long screeching sound, the train skidded to a stop, the force of countless tons of steel shooting forward fighting against the brakes. Tanya, who was lying on the cot, held on tightly as Newton's laws of motion took effect. After an agonizing two minutes, the movement stopped.
Complete silence.
Then, she leaped off of the bed, dusting off her clothes. After her revelation, she had taken the time to get some rest, her sleep the nights before having been disrupted by the incident. Whatever might come next, it would best be tackled when she wasn't tired and prone to mistakes.
However, she wasn't sure exactly where to go. The only information she had been given were directions to the pickup point and a time to be there, with only vague clues to look around the area for someone she knew. When reading, she had hoped that it was a sign of trust in her ability to follow such directions rather than a lack of preparation on the planner's part. But Zettour has a good reputation, competent man, at least from what I've managed to gather.
Opening the sliding door, she looked in the slim corridor. Cold and empty, with not even a single light illuminating the flowered wallpaper. Then, stepping inside, she walked to what she assumed to be the back end of the car. Nothing for it.
A steel door around three heads taller than her sat in front of her, attached to a wheel-like mechanism. She gripped the metal, then heaved with all of her might, grunting from the strain.
Ah, I thought this might happen. The handle hadn't turned a single inch, stuck in place like it was welded shut.
She tightened her lips. This is unfortunate. It made perfect sense, that someone with her malnourishment-tainted musculature wouldn't be able to operate something that many grown adults would struggle with. However, she had hoped that it wouldn't be the case. When she had started receiving full meals in the military, she had started to exercise regularly, the extra calorie drain no longer a threat to her survival. Not just for her physical health, but also her mind, as a way to think through problems with a clear head. So, it was somewhat disappointing to be reminded of her weakness. Blocked by a door without a lock. How humiliating.
Another push, this time planting one of her feet against the side of the train to gain extra force. Heaving again, she felt her spine straining against the weight being placed on it.
It still didn't budge. She heaved again, no longer touching the ground as she floated off the ground, using the full force of both her legs to push. This time, the handle moved, groaning as the ring rotated less than an inch from its starting point, the tiniest fraction of the circle.
Falling back to the ground, she sighed, relieved. If I wasn't able to do that, then the only other option would have been… unpalatable. The Type 95 was still heavy around her neck, seeming to turn into a steel weight whenever she thought about it. Whatever its power, she couldn't afford to use it unless there was no other recourse.
After a few moments to catch her breath, she pushed again. This time she only had one foot off of the ground. Since she had broken it free from its initial point, turning it the rest of the way would be easier. As the wheel slid along, she thought, Once I'm out, I'll have to stay hidden somehow. Zettour probably wouldn't want one of his secret projects parading about in the open.
The ring of metal completed its revolution with a barely audible click, the door loosening enough to let a sliver of light inside the darkness. Not hearing any signs of workers, she breathed in, readying herself for what might be outside. Probably a trainyard of some sort. Since this car is at the very back of the train, I should be able to avoid alerting anyone if I'm quick enough.
With an improvised tackle, she opened the door enough to squeeze herself through the gap. Tumbling out of the car, bright sunlight and glimpses of an empty noon sky filled her vision. As soon as she felt herself hitting hard dirt, she scrambled into a crawling position, sticking to the ground as low as possible. She winced a little as a pebble cut into her hands.
Then, a strained cough reached her ears. "Excuse me, Degurechaff, there's no need for that." It was a man's voice. "The Service Corps director has interfered with the schedule. There should be no one else but us here right now."
Bolting upright, she lifted her gaze, confirming what she already knew. A black-haired man with glasses stood above her, still recognizable even without his usual Imperial uniform. He looked like a standard office worker, in a neat brown overcoat, somewhat on the intellectual side. "Yes, sir!" she said, snapping a professional salute.
She looked around. With a glance, there was nothing but train tracks and emptiness as far as she could see. A field of brown, dusty dirt, with the only color contrast coming from the light blues above. The weather was cold, but not nearly as freezing as Berun. So, maybe southeast?
Then, she fixed her attention back to Lergen. He appeared to be trying his best to look composed, although the slight clenching of his stomach, covering it like he would a wound with his hands told her otherwise. He must be the man Zettour specified. Makes sense, considering that if he wanted to keep secrecy, using the person who already knows about the operation would limit the number of potential leaks.
"I believe you're informed of the situation?" she asked. Without letting him respond, she followed up, examining his reaction. "My orders from Zettour only extended to getting off this train when it stopped. Beyond that, I don't know what to do." Let's hope that the plan didn't end there.
"Of course," he said, gulping slightly before continuing. "I figure you'll appreciate it if I get straight to business. We are in Munich right now. I was sent here to drive you to your next destination, which will be a kind of semi-permanent residence for the job we have in mind for you. "
"And where would that be?" she asked. I was right about the direction. Small consolation. But at least there's some kind of base I get to live in. Having to find my own accommodations would be inconvenient if they couldn't risk anyone questioning what the facility was being used for.
"A village," he said. "Have you heard of the Dachstein mountains?"
She blinked. A road trip it is, then. "Yes, somewhat. I know where it roughly is on a map. It's around a couple of kilometers away from here, southeast?" Without the blankets of the sleeper compartment, she could feel her body starting to grow colder. She shuffled around, hopping from foot to foot, wondering how long Lergen had been waiting. Doesn't sound too horrible so far, when's the other shoe going to drop?
"As always, your knowledge is impressive," he said, seeming somehow disappointed. "I've been assigned to travel with you there, considering that you... technically don't have a driver's license yet." He winced at his last words, as if he were expecting her to grow fangs and bite him for the insult.
Hmph, I'm not petty enough to be concerned about that. "There's no need to be careful around that subject. I'm well aware of my circumstances," she said, waving her hand slightly. "Now, where's the car? I'll assume that you don't like standing around in the cold any more than I do."
Breathing a sigh of relief, he replied, "Thank you. Follow me." As he moved aside, she saw in the distance a car that had been blocked from view by his body.
Walking closer, she exhaled in mild surprise. A black automobile was parked next to the tracks, gleaming as if it had just been polished yesterday. Somehow, even in the dusty area, only the wheels had been tainted with grime. On top of the hood of the car was the dazzling silver logo of the brand. The only part of the vehicle that wasn't shining was the cloth covering for blocking out rain. Isn't this a bit much if you don't want to stand out?
"This is Zettour's car, actually," he explained, noticing her gaze. "Right now, I'm technically on leave to go on a trip to the mountains, for my health. He decided that I should borrow it for the vacation." Opening the door, he made his way to the driver's seat and closed the shining steel behind him with a thunk.
"How kind of them," she replied, walking over to the opposite side of the vehicle. She climbed into the front passenger seat, marveling at the similarly black leather seats, soft and silky. It was more comfortable than any bed she had slept on, although she had to admit that the bar set was low. So they're trying to make it up to me already, for whatever's going to happen next. I suppose I expected as much.
He grimaced. "It's the least we could do." Firing up its engine, the car kicked up pebbles as the rubber tires fought to get a grip. Bumping up and down, it took a few seconds to reach a steady speed. Surprisingly, the Lieutenant Colonel was an excellent driver, never veering from his straight-line path along the tracks.
After a moment of silence, without looking at Tanya, he said, "There's a path connecting to a road up ahead. It won't be this rough of a ride for much longer." He seemed to be unnerved by the girl sitting blankly, nothing discernable on her expression, not even boredom. What was she thinking about?
Snapping out of her trance, she replied, "Of course. I assumed that we wouldn't be taking this path for the entire journey." Ignoring what happens next, this isn't a bad present from the General Staff. I'd pay a small fortune if all my chairs were this comfortable. How luxury will blind even a sensible person. Still, it's a good sign if Zettour isn't callous enough to ignore the feelings of his pawns completely. I still wish the positions were reversed though.
Taking another unpaved dirt pathway that branched off to the left, the polished black automobile bounced along. After what seemed like an eternity to one, and a pleasant ride through the countryside to another, the material underneath them changed. From what was just dirt and small pebbles cleared of grass, they turned onto a proper highway of concrete, solid and grey, a two-lane road devoid of traffic. Around them now were jaggy hills covered with trees, the glossy green leaves drowning out the specks of brown between them in a sea of color.
Well, no point in putting more things off.
The engine thrummed in the background, purring like a lazy cat. In the mild weather with only a hint of frost, the two people in their warm coats and jackets had begun to relax. At least, that's what she figured looking at Lergen's face, which had changed from nervous to a sort of forced indifference as if he was blocking out the rest of the world.
"Sir, what exactly is my mission?" she asked suddenly, turning toward him.
It was as if he was electrified from her words, clutching the steering wheel so tightly that it looked like he was going to swerve off the road any second. For a tense moment, he lost the composure he had been tightly holding onto. The car sped up, the needle creeping toward the end of the speedometer.
Taking a sharp breath, he replied slowly, as if each word was painful to get out, "That is… yes, I guess you do have a right to ask. I'll tell you everything I can, but…"
That bad, or does he just have a weak constitution? "But what?" she asked, keeping her voice as clear and sweet as water from a spring. To gain trust, friendliness is the most effective tactic. People find it hard to be on guard against someone who seems innocent.
His hands tightened further. "Keep in mind, most information will be kept restricted until we determine whether any specific operations are feasible," he said, his face hard.
She sighed. "I understand. Even if it's unnecessary, certain procedures must be followed.." Looks like it's not quite that easy.
"Thank you for your consideration," he said. Still looking straight ahead, he paused, preparing himself for his next words. "...Essentially, what the military wants is a unit of mages around the size of a battalion, a group they can deploy to… certain areas quickly and efficiently."
Focusing in, she fought the urge to shift in her seat. "And the Type 95 would be used as the factor of overwhelming force?" she asked. Where does the secrecy fit in? Wouldn't the brass normally want that sort of unit to be used as much as possible? If that's the case, then it doesn't make sense in trying to hide it to such a degree. There must be something more.
"Yes, exactly," he said. "We'd be taking advantage of its ability to build up reserves of physically manifested mana, to use as a hidden ace."
Now deep within the countryside, the car, its engine still humming its deep melody bounced as it hit a crack in the road. Appreciating the added suspension provided by the leather that felt like a stack of pillows once again, she delayed her question for a moment, taking advantage of the forced lull to think further.
As the car settled down, articulating each word carefully, she asked, "Earlier, you said that the military wants this. How many people does that refer to? Is the General Staff in agreement on the matter?"
"I can't answer that question," he replied bluntly, his resolve firm this time. "There's no need for you to know about people who won't be in contact with you. I'll have to warn you to not investigate the matter on your own either."
So, it can't be that many. Another bad sign. "I understand," she said, turning back in her chair to face forward. It doesn't seem like I'll get much more meaningful information until later. Well, at least it seems there'll be some time before combat spent training and organizing. Sighing internally, she asked, "So, who's going to be my commanding officer?"
"You have none. We've selected you to be the leader of the unit."
She whirled around. "What?" Suppressing her shock, she gnashed her teeth. Dammit, so it's like that.
A forced chuckle escaped his mouth. "I apologize for the late notice, but congratulations on your promotion, Major Tanya Degurechaff. We thought it would only be appropriate, considering your talent as an officer. It's quite impressive to graduate at the top of your class at your age, although due to the nature of your assignment, there won't be an official ceremony, unfortunately."
Taking a calming breath, she replied, choking out the words, "...Thank you for your kindness... And don't worry, I was never one for celebration anyway." They couldn't get someone qualified enough to do the job. That means this requires enough secrecy that getting someone competent, who foreign intelligence agencies might be keeping tabs on is too much of a risk. Probably no aces either. This 'elite' unit is looking very weak, besides the power of that cursed object.
"Mind if I ask where my subordinates will be coming from?" she said after a moment, ignoring the slight warmth flaring up in her chest.
He seemed to pick up on her line of thought, pressing his lips together in a small indication of shame. "We'll be providing more than enough applicants for a battalion. You can select the candidates you want from that list, then train and crop them out further for a period of time."
Shit. Not even a single person with experience. Hell, I'm not even really qualified for this! "Sir, can I be honest with you?"
Glancing toward her out of the corner of his glasses, he replied simply, "Yes."
Taking a breath, she said, "How am I supposed to make an elite battalion given these circumstances?" Noticing his lack of rebuttal, she continued, "No veterans, no aces, no officers who were higher-ranked than me presumably, and I'll also guess that participating in low-risk combat for training is also out of the question, considering the need for secrecy. Wouldn't it be more effective for the Type 95 to be organized into an existing unit, rather than… this?" She stared at him, defiant as she dared to be toward a Lieutenant Colonel.
I have to confirm it, even if it looks like that already. If Zettour isn't an idiot, then there's only a few reasons he could be doing this. Goddammit. And Being X calls me immoral.
Lergen continued to drive, hands clamped to the wheel. He licked his lips, then grimaced, looking as if he would rather be an infantryman charging a bunker with nothing but a rifle and bayonet. "You'll have to work something out. There's no other answer I can give you on that matter."
"No argument?" she said. "Would it be possible to file a complaint?"
"I'm afraid not. You don't have any other choices."
Here it is. No turning back now. The forest flashing by around her seemed to turn grey as she zeroed in on the man with razor-sharp eyes, as if it was the same stopped world she had been trapped in by Being X. "And why is all of this necessary?" she asked.
After a moment where she wondered if he had heard her question, he turned toward her, taking his gaze off of the road. The path ahead was straight enough that his stiff hands could steer for a few moments. Brown pupils distorted by a layer of glass met a pool of clear blue, matching its intensity through sheer willpower as if he were trying to reach the bottom of the water and touch whatever was underneath.
She didn't avert her eyes, curious as to what he could be doing. It's not very safe to ignore the road like that. Although I suppose it's understandable, considering the circumstances.
"Degurechaff," he said, still searching for something in her eyes.
"Yes?" she replied. It was a strange sensation, to have someone look directly at her. Usually, her height prevented direct eye contact as a matter of course, and every other time she was the party initiating the staredown. But the feeling only deserved mild curiosity, so she continued to look back, not budging a single inch in the imagined battle of wills, "What is it?"
"You, of all people, have at least of an idea of the answer to that question, don't you?" he asked, seeming to sweat more and more as the seconds passed.
She shrugged, the movement small enough to be explained as a bump in the road. "There's no harm in confirming what you believe to be the truth. It costs very little, after all."
In the car, the two people both dressed in brown continued to face each other, as the world around them went by in a blur. He searched, desperately diving deeper into the crystal-blue depths, of which he wondered lay behind. She simply sat still, rigid and unmoving as a statue as she waited for him to stop.
Then, Lergen seemed to deflate, both air and tension leaving his body. He averted his gaze, the first person to buckle. Some mysterious form of disappointment filled his expression, from the side of his face that she could see. "What have we done…" he mumbled. "...To create something like this."
"It is distasteful." War is irrational. I understand that, at least. It's good that my superior is a sensible person. Then, she cut off her thoughts as she turned to face forward, falling back with a quiet puff onto the softness below her and letting a hint of relaxation color her face. I should say something patriotic.
She carefully adopted a lecturing tone in her mind, crafting it around the speech of the war-mongering demagogues she'd heard on the radio occasionally. "But," she said, taking a tragic sigh, "If it's for the fatherland, then we have to do what we must. Isn't that the cost of victory?"
What a load of shit. Do demagogues actually believe the garbage they spew? But that's the cost to build your reputation.
"...That's not what I was talking about." She thought she heard Lergen saying something, a whisper as quiet as breathing. Then, he said loudly, "Yes, I suppose that's true."
"How unfortunate we are," she replied, cutting off the conversation.
She decided to discount his whisperings as her imagination as she settled in further into the chair. After all, what else could he be referring to? There was no logical explanation.
So, she just closed her eyes and gently picked the brown newsboy cap off of her head and set it on her lap, putting now chilly hands underneath it on her lap. Sinking further into her seat, she let out a peaceful sigh, missing only a hot cup of black coffee for her relaxation. Still, what a nice place to sleep. After all, it would be a long ride.