Blessed are the Peacekeepers,
For they will be called children of God
-Matthew 5:9
First Lieutenant Anna Arendelle sat on the hood of her Humvee, feet planted on the bumper. She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. The sun was slowly peeking over the eastern horizon, but the dawn brought little warmth to the desolate Livonian countryside.
God, even the sun is dragging its ass. Just like everything else in this country.
She sighed and tipped her head back, rotating it around in a vain attempt to work the kinks out of her neck. Barely even dawn, yet she'd already been up and on the road for over three hours. Camp Wenden, where she was based, was still an hour away, along with her breakfast.
These liaison trips to the coalition main base were no longer the distraction from her daily grind that they had once been. Six months into a deployment that was mind-numbingly dull, and the only thing to look forward to was another six months of the same boring shit, day in and day out. Performing a mission that made no sense and had little effect, in a country that didn't really want them there, working with partners who weren't interested in Arendelle's contributions.
Yeah, the senior American officers at the HQ had made it clear that her presence was unnecessary and unappreciated.
They didn't even offer me breakfast.
Her stomach rumbled at the thought. She picked up the insulated tumbler that sat on the hood next to her and took a sip of steaming black coffee. Bit Lockhart apparently had a few words with the HQ mess sergeant, who had offered her the tumbler and a mumbled apology just before they rolled out for the trip back. Bit hadn't lost the comradery and respect of his former NCO colleagues, even if the American officers treated him like he was radioactive. They wouldn't even stand near him. As if working for Arendelle was contagious.
Bit might the only person they dislike more than me.
Not dislike. Fear. They're all afraid it will hurt their careers if they even acknowledge him.
Anna took another sip of her coffee and glanced back at Lockhart. He lay sprawled across the Humvee's canvas back seats, his head resting against the door. His snores rattled the window.
She shook her head, envious. At least one of them was getting some sleep. Anna would have liked nothing better than to nap through the boring drive, but one of them had to stay awake to navigate. Their American driver had no sense of direction, no map-reading skills, and no clue how to use the GPS. The first time he'd driven them to coalition headquarters, the normally two-hour trip turned into a day-long odyssey after both Anna and Bit fell asleep in the vehicle. They woke up in a village about fifty kilometers from their base camp, out of gas and surrounded by a crowd of curious onlookers. It had taken every bit of Anna's really awful 100-word Livonian vocabulary, along with a case of MREs and a box of chemlights to get their tank refilled.
On the upside, he drove fast, treating every trip as an opportunity to milk more speed from their Humvee than Anna ever would have dreamed possible. After going through a series of pokey and overly-cautious drivers - and being told in no uncertain terms that she was forbidden to drive herself – she was more than happy to navigate for a directionally-challenged PFC who kept the pedal pushed all the way to the floor.
Still, that no-driving thing is total bullshit. They may have gotten me grounded, but I still have a vehicle permit.
She flopped back onto the hood. "Ugh, this mission is so boring!"
Lockhart's annoyed voice came from the back seat. "What's really boring is you complaining about it being boring. After six months, you think it's gonna change?"
"Thought you were sleeping," Anna said.
"I haven't slept decently since I met you."
"Pffffttt." Anna craned her neck and stuck her tongue out at him. "We could do with just a little bit of excitement."
"Nope, I like it boring," Bit said. "When you do something exciting, I end up standing at attention in front of your sister trying to explain something she doesn't want to hear about. Lightning's driving is all the excitement I need, thanks."
"Speaking of…." Anna sat up and glanced toward the field where their driver had disappeared to relieve himself. A gust of frigid wind cut through her parka, and she yanked the zipper all the way to her chin, making a mental note to pack more snivel gear next time. She was about to ask the driver if he was having problems when she heard the distinctive steel-on-steel grinding sound of tracked vehicles.
Seeing nothing on the road ahead of her, she put aside her coffee and stood up. Balancing herself on the Humvee's fender, she looked to the rear, over the roof of the vehicle. There in the distance, she saw a squat full-track vehicle rolling down the road toward them. Behind it trailed several trucks. At least two or three, maybe more. The track screened her view further down the road.
"Shake it off, McQueen," she called. "We've got company."
A head with a shock of red hair even brighter than Anna's popped around the side of a scrubby bush. "Shit!" PFC McQueen swore. The head disappeared and Anna snickered as the sounds of rattling gear and muffled cursing reached her ears.
She looked back to the road. The approaching column was about a kilometer away, and Anna now recognized the lead vehicle as an M113, an old armored troop carrier that was standard in the Livonian army. She hopped down from her perch and reached into the Humvee to grab the radio handset.
"What's up, LT?" Bit asked.
"Vehicles coming up the road behind us. At least one track. M113."
Bit frowned. "I didn't see any units scheduled to operate in this sector today."
"Me either. I'm calling it in." Anna keyed the hand mike. "Delta zero-three, this is Delta zero-three-Sierra, over."
There was a long pause, then a heavily-accented voice came back, "Last transmitting station, follow procedures or leave off this net, over."
"Shit!" Anna swore.
"Wrong radio again?" Lockhart asked.
"Why can't the Americans use the same radios as everyone else in the coalition?" Anna complained. American radios were not compatible with the Continental ones, and as a result, the American unit she was with had installed one of their sets in her vehicle. She'd lost track of the number of times she'd used the wrong one.
"You know we like to be different, LT."
Anna stuck her tongue out at him again. "Every time I'm about to forget you're American…." She called the coalition station again and told them to disregard, then picked up the correct handset and keyed the mike. "Delta zero-three, this is Delta zero-three-Sierra, over."
This time, a distinctly American voice came back. "Delta zero-three-Sierra, this is Delta zero-three, send your traffic, over."
"This is Delta zero-three-Sierra, are there any Livonian units scheduled to be moving around in our sector today?"
"This is Delta zero-three, wait one, over."
While she waited for the radio operator at Camp Wenden to get back to her, Anna did a quick mental assessment of the situation. Not good, really. She and Bit were both lightly armed - she still carried the unauthorized Glock nine-mil pistol that she'd gotten from Bit back when they first met, and he carried the standard-issue Arendellan HK pistol given to all members of the Queen's Own. He also carried a concealed HK submachine gun because "the only thing a pistol is good for in combat is to shoot yourself."
Not that any of that was going to be useful against the armored personnel carrier trundling down the road toward them. Hopefully this encounter would follow the recent trend of Livonian Army units being fairly cooperative when confronted. There had been a few "misunderstandings" when they first got on the ground in Livonia, but none of them had involved anything beyond a misfired rifle.
Yet.
The radio speaker crackled. "Delta zero-three-Sierra, that's a negative, there are no approved movements for Livonian units in our sector today, over."
Anna swore under her breath. "Delta zero-three, be advised that we have a column of Livionian Army trucks, number unknown, led by an M113, moving east on the road at grid…." She trailed off as she realized she hadn't checked her location. "Wait one, over."
She leaned into the Humvee and hit the display button on the GPS mounted to the windshield. The screen lit up with the letters and numbers representing her location. She read them off to the radio operator, then rolled her eyes when he recited the instructions she was expecting.
"Delta zero-three-Sierra, you will halt and detain all violators of the peace accords. You will provide this headquarters with the name, rank, and unit of the senior officer in charge of the violating unit. You will also provide this headquarters with the vehicular composition of the violating unit, the number of personnel present and how they are armed, and then await further instructions, over."
Christ on a pony. "I hope you realize that it's just me and Bit and Lightning out here," Anna shot back, not bothering to use proper radio procedure. Nor did she attempt to hide the sarcasm in her voice.
"Vaya con Dios, amiga," the radio operator said.
"Shit!" Anna threw the handset into the vehicle just as PFC McQueen climbed into his seat.
"Gave you the same old 'hold the fort 'til we make up our minds' routine, huh ma'am?" McQueen drawled.
"Yeah," Anna said in disgust as she watched the column of Livonian vehicles roll closer and closer.
"What we gonna do, LT?" McQueen asked as he cranked the Humvee. "Pull pitch and burn rubber back to base, I hope."
"Sorry, Lightning," Anna said as she fished her beret out of her cargo pocket and put it on. "We have our orders."
McQueen pulled a face. "If you ask me, ma'am, them poor suckers following Custer had their orders too. But following 'em turned out to be a pretty dumb move."
"Well, McQueen, she didn't ask you, did she?" Bit hauled himself out of the back seat. "Now get on the radio with ops and stay alert."
"Yessir." McQueen was more than a little intimidated by Bit.
Anna stepped into the middle of the road. "What is he talking about, 'Custer'?" she asked Bit as he stepped up next to her. "Isn't that a dessert?"
"Custer, not custard," Bit said. Anna shook her head, and Bit gaped at her for a second. "George Armstrong Custer? Crazy Horse? The Battle of Little Bighorn?" Anna shook her head. "Okay, LT, maybe we need to start alleviating your boredom with some American military history."
They fell silent as the lead track came trundling towards them. The driver showed no sign of slowing, and Anna wondered if this high-stakes game of chicken was going to end with her and Bit as axle grease for the twelve-tonne vehicle. She had no desire to lay down her life to enforce a treaty that no one cared about, but that didn't mean she wouldn't do what was right.
Bit's hand came to the small of her back, his arm tensing as his fingers curled into her jacket. He was on the verge of hauling her off the road when the track's brakes squealed, and it finally came to a full stop barely a meter away from where they stood.
Asshole, Anna thought.
Bit's hand fell away, but neither of them relaxed.
The commander of the M113, hanging out of his open hatch, shouted and waved furiously at them to get out of the way. Anna was able to pick out a few threats and swear words in the diatribe. Her temper rose dangerously. Between her early morning, the pointless mission, and the sheer ridiculousness of her and Bit facing down a mechanized convoy on their own, she was in no mood to take shit from a Livonian sergeant on an unauthorized road trip.
Bit must have sensed her anger. He leaned in and whispered, "Easy, LT."
Anna took a deep breath and said in English, "This troop movement has not been sanctioned by the UN forces in this sector. I demand to see your commanding officer."
The soldier just kept yelling and waving his arm wildly. Anna repeated her demand, trying to ignore the fact that the M113's .50-cal machine gun was pointing in her general direction. The man rained more expletives on her. She was pretty sure he had questioned both her parentage and her occupation somewhere in there.
She clamped down on her temper. When the soldier paused to take a breath, she repeated her demand, barely finishing before he started in on her again. The pointless exchange went on for several minutes, until a Livonian officer appeared from behind the M113. He was flanked by a squad of soldiers carrying their weapons at ready.
"What is the problem here?" the officer, a captain by his insignia, demanded in English.
"Sir, this troop movement has not been sanctioned by the UN task force in this sector," Anna stated. "If you are the commanding officer, I must have your name, rank, and the identification of this unit."
The captain looked her up and down, then gave her a condescending smile. "I think not, Lieutenant."
"Sir," Anna insisted, "these demands are not negotiable. They are spelled out in detail in the peace accords and must be obeyed."
With that, the Livonian captain launched into a tirade, complaining bitterly about the presence of foreign troops in his country. In a mix of English and Livonian, he lectured them about the history of Muscovian aggression against them, the perils of allowing the Muscovian minority in eastern Livonia to grow, and the foolishness of allowing them any kind of autonomy within their borders.
Anna just stared at him. She knew that many Livonian officers resented the presence of the American and Continental peacekeepers, but she had never heard one be so open about his loathing of the Muscovian minority that the peacekeepers were there to protect.
Something about the whole rant didn't seem quite right, but Anna could not put her finger on what it was.
"And if you bothered to study those accords, Lieutenant," the captain finished, "you would not see the signature of a single official of my government on them. So therefore they are meaningless to me. Now, you are blocking the road and interfering with the freedom of movement of soldiers within their own country. You will step aside."
Anna looked him directly in the eye. "I cannot do that, sir."
The officer looked almost pleased. "Then you leave me no choice but to remove you."
Anna heard Bit swear under his breath, and suddenly realized that during the captain's rant, more troops had dismounted from the trucks. What had been a half-dozen soldiers was now more than twenty. Her hand dropped instinctively to the pistol at her hip. The Livonian soldiers reacted immediately, lowering the muzzles of their rifles and moving to surround her and Bit.
Oh shit. What do I do now?
Then PFC McQueen's voice called out, "Lieutenant Arendelle, ma'am. Ops is on the radio. They need to talk to you right now."
Anna glared at the Livonian officer for another moment before pivoting on her heel. She marched through the soldiers surrounding them, hoping that none of them noticed the sweat that had begun to bead on her face. Taking her time, she walked around to the passenger side of the Humvee, Bit on her heels. As she leaned into the vehicle, she heard the Livonian captain order his soldiers to move out. The M113's engine rumbled as it started down the road.
"Does Ops really want to talk to me?" she asked McQueen quietly as she took the radio handset from him.
"No, ma'am," McQueen whispered.
"Good job, Lightning," Bit said. "I thought we were about to have our own Custer moment there."
They watched as the Livonian captain and his soldiers mounted up, and the rest of the column rolled after the M113. When his vehicle passed them, the captain gave Anna a little salute and smirked at her. She barely resisted the urge to flip him off.
"Something not quite right about that whole thing," Anna said.
You mean something besides you wanting to take on an armored vehicle with just your nine-mil?" Bit asked. "I hope this has satisfied your need for excitement, LT."
"It'll do for the morning," Anna said, grinning when she saw his long-suffering look.
Then she gazed thoughtfully down the road, where the Livonian convoy was disappearing over a rise.
A/N: This is a story I've been working on for a couple of years now, and tt's pretty different from most of my other stories. It's completely Anna-centric - other than mentions, Anna is the only major Frozen character in this story. It's one that I've wanted to write ever since I conceived of the PMW-verse, and even more so in the light of Anna's development in Frozen 2 - how she reacts to crises, how she copes when everything falls on her shoulders, and how she handles suddenly being the leader.