Pekoe and the Blizzard (Part 1)

Darjeeling shivered a little as she made her way up the gangplank onto Pravda's schoolship. Winter was still officially two months away, but this far north, the temperature had already dropped far beyond what she considered comfortable. Pravda were currently docked in their home port up in Aomori, and would be here for a while, apparently. Something about taking the opportunity to train before the weather really started turning bad? Assam had mentioned it in passing, but Darjeeling couldn't quite recall the details at the moment.

Just as Darjeeling reached the deck of the schoolship proper, a GAZ-67 jeep pulled up, and Katyusha stepped out of it, arms opened wide in welcome. Her ever-present companion, Nonna, soon followed.

"Katyusha welcomes you back to Pravda, Darjeeling! What might your business be today? Or have you just come because you wish to spend time with the pleasant and generous Katyusha?"

Darjeeling's answering smile was warm. "There is a small favour I wished to ask, but honestly, I just wanted to have your excellent tea again, Katyusha. You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to get good Russian-style tea elsewhere. Personally, I think it's the samovar that makes all the difference."

"In that case, let it never be said that Pravda was inhospitable to guests! Nonna!"

"Yes, Katyusha?" Pravda's second-in-command was now at her usual place, standing impassively behind Katyusha.

"Let's have the usual room set up, Katyusha will have tea with Darjeeling there."

"At once, Katyusha." Nonna was already heading back to the jeep, even as she tapped away on her mobile phone. Presumably she was getting the preparations underway.

"And don't forget the jam! Not just strawberry this time, the blueberry and raspberry jam too! Oh, and bring out the pastila, ptichye moloko, and the zefir as well!" Katyusha's arms waved wildly as she got more and more excited, narrowly missing Darjeeling's face several times.

Nonna came to a stop, turning around and staring directly at her commander. "Certainly, but I'm sure you'll only indulge in moderation. Am I correct, Katyusha?"

Nonna's tone was not quite a warning and not quite a statement, but something between the two. Darjeeling was quite familiar with it. It worked wonders for dealing with Rosehip, after all.

Katyusha crossed her arms and pouted. "Humph! I'm Pravda's commander, and if I say I'm going to have sweets, I'm going to have sweets! Don't give me any backtalk, Nonna!"

"Too much sugar is not good for you, Katyusha." Nonna's tone had not changed.

Katyusha's face grew stormy. "I don't care, Nonna! I'm expecting to see all those sweets on the table when we get there, or else I'll — "

"Having too much sugar will stunt your growth, you know?"

The speed at which Katyusha changed her moods never ceased to amaze Darjeeling. The scowl vanished from her face as if it had never been there, and the diminutive girl was immediately all smiles again.

"Well, why didn't you say so! Katyusha's self-control is as solid as the Siberian permafrost! She will only taste the jam and snacks a little, simply to be a good host to Darjeeling here. Now, lead the way, Nonna!"

"Of course, Katyusha," Nonna replied, already moving off again, though now with the ghost of a smile on her face. As soon as the three of them boarded the jeep, Nonna drove off. It didn't take long before they reached Pravda's compound proper. Halting right in front of the school building which housed the senshadou team's headquarters, Nonna dismounted and headed in immediately.

Katyusha and Darjeeling, on the other hand, took their time getting out and entering. As they walked along the hallways of the building, they continued chatting idly, Katyusha swinging her arms back and forth as she walked in an endearingly childish way. Not that Darjeeling would ever say that out loud, of course.

Finally, they reached the room Katyusha usually used to meet guests. Pravda's emblem took pride of place in the room, above the fireplace, but there were also several paintings scattered around, some depicting landscapes of snowy plains and vast pine forests, while others depicted scenes from history.

There was one in particular that Darjeeling had considered rather tasteless, though. It had featured a T-34 shooting point-blank at a Tiger with its commander's hatch open, atop a mountain path in a driving rainstorm. When Darjeeling had last been here, before Pravda's match with Ooarai in the previous year's tournament, the painting had occupied a very prominent place. Now, however, it seemed to have disappeared completely. Darjeeling's lips quirked up a little. Apparently Katyusha's tastes in art had changed since then.

Regardless of Katyusha's choice of decor, the warmth of the room was a very pleasant contrast to the chill outside, thanks to the large fire roaring in the grate. Nonna was waiting there, with a table laden with food: black bread, still warm from the oven; butter and cream, several varieties of jams, and despite Nonna's earlier words, quite a few sweets as well. A samovar sat off to the side, already crowned with a teapot and hissing away. Katyusha marched into the room, heading straight for the head of the table.

"Sit, sit, Darjeeling! There is no need to stand on ceremony with Katyusha, for she is but a humble servant of the people!"

Katyusha reached for the nearest loaf of bread, and tore off a chunk, which she then dipped into a waiting saucer of salt and popped into her mouth. Wincing a little at the taste, she handed the platter holding the bread to Darjeeling, who did the same, though with rather more finesse than her host.

Handing the platter back to the waiting Nonna, Darjeeling turned back to face Katyusha, who was already licking at a spoonful of strawberry jam in between sips of tea. Suppressing a smile, Darjeeling helped herself to a fresh slice of bread and began buttering it, while Nonna filled the other teacups on the table with tea.

With her spoon now clean, Katyusha reached out to grab a slice of bread for herself, slathering it with more jam and generous amounts of butter. "Now that we have taken bread and salt together, Darjeeling, tell Katyusha what troubles you! She will do all she can to help, for she is a kind and generous soul!"

Darjeeling took a sip from her cup of tea, before leaning back contentedly. "There is a little something that you could help me with, Katyusha. Isn't the annual Pravda tank endurance race coming up?"

Katyusha glanced at Nonna, who answered immediately. "I believe it's in a month's time, Darjeeling-san."

"Well, could I ask for a small favour, Katyusha? I know it's usually open only to entrants from Pravda and the occasional alumnus, but would it be possible for us to send a tank to compete this year?"

"Oh? And whash wif yur shudden inte'st in thish event, Dajiling?" Katyusha's words were a tad muffled, probably due to her mouth being full of bread and butter at the moment.

"Pardon?"

Nonna cleared her throat loudly, and Katyusha hastily swallowed the food and repeated herself.

Drawing out the moment, Darjeeling took a slow sip of her tea. It was as good as she remembered it being. "Well, that's a bit of a long story, but suffice it to say, I have some plans for Orange Pekoe — whom I'm sure you remember well — which would be helped along greatly by this event."

"Orange Pekoe? Your loader?" Katyusha sounded a bit puzzled.

"Indeed." Darjeeling leaned over, looking conspiratorial. "I think the experience of taking part in it would be good for her. Besides, Pravda has been most generous with the prize this year as well. An all-expenses paid trip to St. Petersburg, if I'm not mistaken?"

Katyusha shrugged. "Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt. Nonna! Have there ever been non-Pravda participants before?"

Nonna gave a slow nod. "I believe so, though I am not sure of the details at the moment. I will check further if you wish, Katyusha."

"Ah, that's fine," Katyusha waved off Nonna's offer breezily. "It's not like she'd win, anyway. No offense, Darjeeling, but there's never been a winner of the race who hadn't attended Pravda. No one else has the skills."

"Oh? Then perhaps you might be interested in a little wager, Katyusha? A year's supply of this fine Russian tea we're drinking now, if Pekoe somehow manages to win the race? Of course, if Pravda won, I'd arrange for you to receive an equal amount of that English blackberry conserve you liked so much when you last visited."

"Oh-ho! Katyusha will take that wager, Darjeeling, for she is confident in the skills and the spirit of the girls of Pravda! What is more, she will be generous, since she is sure to be the winner anyway! If your Orange Pekoe finishes in the top three, the tea is yours, and if she actually manages to win, Katyusha will personally come over to deliver it!"

"That would be most satisfactory," Darjeeling said, a slow smile spreading across her face. "I look forward to the race, Katyusha. Oh, and one last favour, perhaps? If you could not mention this wager or my request to anyone else, I would be most grateful. After all, we wouldn't want to put undue pressure on Pekoe, nor the gallant competitors from Pravda."

Katyusha drew herself up. "But of course! Fear not, your confidences are safe with Katyusha and Nonna. Katyusha also thanks you for your concern for her schoolmates, though it is scarcely necessary. After all, with Katyusha leading them, victory is assured!"

"Indubitably," Darjeeling murmured. "But come; let us speak of other things. How have things been in Pravda lately?"

The question was all the impetus Katyusha needed to launch into an impassioned recital of Pravda's recent triumphs. Darjeeling nodded along and made vaguely approving noises at all the right places, but her thoughts were miles away. She had full confidence in Pekoe, of course, but there was a reason Pravda's tank endurance race had earned the nickname 'The Grinder'. Its timing varied, either being held in the dead of winter or during the season of mud caused by the autumn rains and the spring thaw. Of course, both seasons were equally hard on tanks in their own way, and many contestants ended up being eliminated through mechanical failure alone. This year's edition was apparently scheduled for the end of autumn, where the odds of a sudden early blizzard or a sucking muddy nightmare were about even.

Hmm. She'd definitely need to put in an order for extra heat packs, and maybe even a Senshadou Federation-approved electric tank heater once she got back. After all, she couldn't very well pass the team on to Orange Pekoe if Pekoe ended up freezing to death, could she?

The weather had been horrendous lately in St. Gloriana's. Rain had been pouring down in ludicrous amounts the entire day, and Orange Pekoe was glad to finally get out of the wet and cold. Even the short walk to the Tea Garden building from her classroom had been a pain, though her umbrella had kept the worst of the rain off her. As she stepped into the Tea Garden building, placing her dripping umbrella into a stand at the entrance, the warmth of the building enfolded her like a cozy blanket. Now, it was time to head to Darjeeling's sitting room for their usual afternoon teatime. A cup of hot, fragrant tea would be just the thing to chase away any lingering chill.

As she entered the room, Assam looked up from where she was fiddling with a teapot. "Ah, there you are, Pekoe. Come have some tea; you look like you could use it." Her words were music to Pekoe's ears, and she hastened to Assam's side.

Darjeeling, on the other hand, seemed rather preoccupied, only giving Pekoe a perfunctory greeting before she continued going through a stack of mail in front of her. Finally, she reached the last envelope, which was marked with the school emblem of Pravda. Arching a single elegant eyebrow, Darjeeling broke the seal, reached inside, and drew out an embossed card. As her eyes flickered over it, she let out a small exclamation.

"What is it, Darjeeling-sama?" Pekoe paused as she was about to take one of the cups of tea that Assam had just filled.

Darjeeling held out the card to Pekoe with a small frown on her face. "It appears Pravda has sent us an invitation to participate in their annual tank endurance race."

"Pravda's tank endurance race? I didn't even know they had one." Pekoe took the card, eyeing it curiously as she sat down with her tea. It certainly looked impressive enough: thick, stiff, cream-coloured paper, finely embossed with Pravda's emblem and covered with decorative curlicues. "That's pretty interesting, Darjeeling-sama."

"Yes, it's usually only open to Pravda students or alumni. They have invited non-Pravda contestants previously, though. If I'm remembering correctly, the last school to receive an invitation was Maple High, two years ago, and I think Saunders and Viggen High were invited the year before that. I wonder why they invited us this year?" Assam sounded as intrigued as Pekoe.

"I'm afraid you'll have to ask Katyusha if you want an answer, Assam," Darjeeling said, taking the card back from Pekoe. "Now, if we take up this invitation, who should we send to represent our school?"

"Well, it is a tank race, after all. Why not ask Rosehip-san?" Pekoe said. Rosehip would probably be thrilled by the opportunity to go all out in her beloved Crusader, after all.

"I think that may not be the best of ideas, Pekoe. Our budget for tank repair only runs so far, after all," Darjeeling said. Next to her, Assam nodded firmly.

"Huh? Surely it can't be that bad?"

"Remind me to let you watch some clips of previous editions of the race, Pekoe. The course goes over some very difficult terrain, and the whole thing takes about 72 hours to finish on average. I think one edition dragged on to nearly a week! I think they finally made a ruling that the race would end automatically after four days if no one was declared the winner by then." Assam shuddered. "If we were to send Rosehip to compete, she'd probably run the tank flat-out at the beginning and then lose out to more cautious competitors. No, I think we need to choose someone else."

"Well, I will have to rule myself out, unfortunately. The same goes for you, Assam." Darjeeling had pulled out her calendar, and was examining it closely. "Our mock examinations are going to be held a week before the starting date of the race. There'll be no time for ordinary senshadou training, let alone any additional practice."

Assam paled. "Ugh. I had forgotten about those."

"A pity. This sort of opportunity is rare," Darjeeling said. "I heard that this year's prize is a trip to St. Petersburg for the winning team; all expenses paid, of course."

Darjeeling looked somewhat disappointed, Pekoe thought. "I suppose that's how it goes, Darjeeling-sama. Are you going to write back to Katyusha-san declining the invitation?"

"Hmm. Maybe not just yet." Darjeeling gazed thoughtfully at Pekoe, who felt a cold chill go down her back. That particular look from Darjeeling never boded very well for her. "What would you say to participating yourself, Pekoe?"

"What? But I've never been involved in tank racing before, Darjeeling-sama!" Pekoe hated it when she was right.

"That simply means you have no bad habits to unlearn, Pekoe. After all, Pravda's endurance rally is quite different from what most people think of when they hear 'tank race'."

Assam nodded. "Yes, tank racing is usually all tankettes and light tanks doing laps round a circuit. Pravda's race... is probably the exact opposite. The terrain is very rugged, and you have to complete a task at each checkpoint to proceed."

"Yes, but still..." Pekoe was still hesitant. She liked senshadou and tanks, but there was a limit to these things. "I don't know, Darjeeling-sama. I'm sure there's got to be better candidates out there."

Darjeeling laid the card aside, looking straight at Orange Pekoe. "Have you heard this saying, Pekoe? 'Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.'

"That's Shakespeare, isn't it?"

"Correct." Darjeeling sounded pleased. "I have utmost faith in your abilities, even if you yourself do not. Yes, you may not have any experience in tank racing, but you have a willingness to learn and the capacity to do so. That is all that is needed. Besides, I think it will be good for you."

"Well, if you put it that way..." Pekoe trailed off, unable to think of anything she could say to rebut that without sounding like she didn't trust Darjeeling.

Darjeeling clapped her hands together sharply. "Excellent! I knew I could count on you, Pekoe."

"But Darjeeling-sama..."

"Now, now, no buts, Pekoe. It's unbecoming. I shall be writing to Katyusha to inform her of our acceptance of her invitation. I'm sure you'll do St. Gloriana's proud."

Orange Pekoe grimaced a little. And here she'd thought she was going to have a nice normal autumn, as the new school term began. Honestly, Darjeeling-sama was really behaving more eccentric as time went by. Ah well, at least that prize did sound rather interesting. It'd be nice to visit Europe, though she'd always thought she'd visit Britain first. Still, St. Petersburg was famed for its beauty, and a good, long trip away from the school and away from eccentric seniors sounded like a very nice idea right now. She could picture it now. Happily exploring the Hermitage, a boat ride along the Neva, all by herself and not a single quotation to be heard...

" — oe! Pekoe!"

Pekoe came to with a start. "Wha —? I'm sorry, Darjeeling-sama, I was lost in my thoughts. What were you saying?"

Pekoe could see Darjeeling was smiling, probably at Pekoe's luminescent blush. Curse her pale skin and its inability to hide her embarrassment. "As I was saying, we should probably meet again soon to discuss our strategies further. Unfortunately, we will have to cut today's teatime a little short. Assam and I have neglected our academic pursuits a little too much recently, and I believe some additional revision is in order."

It had been a while since Orange Pekoe had left Darjeeling and Assam to their studies. The two of them were still in Darjeeling's sitting room, though the tea things had been cleared away and books and notes now covered the table. The only sounds to be heard were the patter of raindrops against the window, the occasional whisper of a turning page, and the scratch of pens, until at last Assam broke the silence.

"Darjeeling?"

"Yes, Assam?" Darjeeling said, looking up from where she was rewriting her English Literature notes in more detail. She'd already filled three pages with her neat script, though Assam noted that this was on the slow side for Darjeeling. She must really be distracted by all this nonsense with Pekoe.

"Somehow, I get the feeling that you weren't actually all that surprised at the invitation from Pravda."

Darjeeling's eyebrows shot up. 'Now, whatever gave you that idea, Assam?"

Assam rolled her eyes. "Don't play coy, I know you too well for that. I'm just surprised Pekoe didn't smell a rat as well."

Darjeeling simply gave Assam a small smile, then bent over and continued with her work. Assam continued watching Darjeeling for a little while, then let out a small huff and bent over her own book again.

"Just so you know, I'll dig up all the archival footage and other information we have on the race and pass it on to Pekoe before we meet up next. Now, focus on revising for our exams and stop thinking about how you're going to keep messing with Pekoe!"

"Why, Assam, that's practically slander," Darjeeling murmured in a low voice. She still didn't look up from her notes.

In reply, Assam just muttered something uncomplimentary about meddlesome senshadou commanders and flipped the page of her book a bit harder than she needed to.

Orange Pekoe rubbed her bleary eyes, trying to get them to stop feeling like sand had been poured under her eyelids. She only mostly succeeded.

A hand holding a bottle of eye drops appeared in front of her. Pekoe blinked rapidly, then instantly regretted doing that.

"Use these, Pekoe, otherwise you'll be visiting the ophthalmologist sooner than you'd like." Assam pressed the bottle into her hands. She was probably speaking from experience, now that Pekoe thought about it. Pekoe couldn't remember the last time she'd viewed so much video footage, but Assam probably went through much more than this every time new information came in on other schools from GI:6 agents. Poor Nilgiri. If she really did take over GI:6, her eyesight was probably going to get even worse.

Assam looked puzzled. "What's Nilgiri and GI:6 got to do with all this?"

Oh. She'd said that last part out loud. Pekoe tried to suppress a yawn, failed, then glanced up at the clock. She'd been watching video footage of past Pravda High School Tank Expedition Challenges, to give the race its formal name, for nearly 5 hours non-stop. No wonder her eyes felt like they were about to fall out.

At least she'd managed to get lots of useful information. It had been a week since the invitation from Pravda had come, and over the past few days of research, Pekoe had filled nearly an entire notebook with notes on past editions of the race. Pravda apparently had access to a very large training area in Siberia, thanks to their contacts in Russia. They usually used it for senshadou training, but it was used as the venue for the race as well. Just looking at pictures of it caused Pekoe to shudder a little. The terrain looked absolutely horrendous for tank operations. Marshland, forest, and even a small mountain range. She supposed that was the idea, of course. After all, you never knew what terrain you'd draw in the lottery when the time came for tournament matches, and Pravda apparently believed in being prepared.

It was an ideal Pekoe was going to have to strive for as well, if she was going to at least make a respectable showing in the race. Not only did the competitors have to make their way between several checkpoints over difficult terrain, they also had to complete certain tasks at each checkpoint. Failure would result in time penalties, and in such difficult terrain, even one such penalty would be fatal to a particular team's hopes of winning. The number and nature of the tasks changed every year, but they usually involved things like gunnery tests or even defeating an enemy tank in a specified time. Add to that the rule that each team would only be allowed resupply once during the race, and Pekoe could see why the race was considered a true challenge of endurance. Winners would have to be not just fast, but also capable and even lucky.

Darjeeling-sama had given her complete freedom on what tank she would be using, as well as selecting the crew for the tank. Only the third-years were off-limits, due to their exams. If this had been a normal circuit race, their Mark VI or the Crusader would have been ideal, but bringing those tanks for this particular race would be asking for trouble. As it was, she was torn between the faithful Churchill and the Cromwell. The Churchill could handle bad terrain with ease, and was reasonably reliable when it came to running constantly, but it would be left in the dust with ease by T-34s or even the odd T-26. The Cromwell was fast enough to keep up with those tanks, but the terrain might trip it up. Additionally, with only one opportunity to resupply, they'd have to bring as much spare parts as they could cram into the tank.

Pekoe closed her weary eyes, yawning again. Forming a crew was another issue she'd have to deal with as well. Ruhuna was a shoo-in for driver, regardless of whether she decided to use the Churchill or the Cromwell, and Kangra could load, of course. It was getting a gunner that would be a bit more difficult. She'd have to think it over and see who'd be the best choice.

"Here, have some tea, Pekoe. You look like you could use it." Ah, that was Darjeeling-sama's voice. Pekoe opened her eyes slowly.

"Thank you, Darjeeling-sama." Pekoe accepted the cup of tea from her, and slowly took a small sip of the steaming tea. Huh. Wasn't this that special batch of Ceylon that Darjeeling had been saving for a while?

"Is it a special occasion, Darjeeling-sama?"

"Well, hard work deserves an equivalent reward, does it not?" Darjeeling's tone was light, but Pekoe thought she could hear concern in there as well.

"I suppose, Darjeeling-sama. Now, I should really be getting back to work. Please excu — Huh?"

Darjeeling had leaned over and switched off the monitor showing the footage that Pekoe had been watching. "Preparations take many forms, Pekoe, and one of them is getting adequate rest. There is no point in running yourself ragged. If we make sure to maintain our tanks, does it not make sense to maintain ourselves at our best as well? Now, drink that tea, then go and rest."

Pekoe gave Darjeeling a weary smile, but one which was sincerely appreciative. "Yes, Darjeeling-sama."

The sound of a throat being cleared drew both their attentions to Assam. "Once you're done mother-henning Pekoe, pass me a cup of that tea as well, Darjeeling."

"Assam-sama!" "Assam!"

"What?" Assam exclaimed. "Don't deny it, Darjeeling, it's the truth."

"I shall not dignify your accusations with a response, Assam, since they deserve none at all."

Assam sniffed dismissively, but didn't reply. Darjeeling then turned to Pekoe.

"Now, you really should be heading off, Pekoe. We can continue this some other day. For now, you need your rest."

Before Pekoe could do anything beyond nod, a soft "Bawk, bawk" came from Assam.

There was silence for a few seconds, then Pekoe and Assam burst into a fit of giggles, and even Darjeeling joined in after a moment.

"I suppose I deserved that, Assam," Darjeeling said, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. "Still, my point stands. Now, off with you, Pekoe!"

Pekoe stood at the edge of the observation deck, squinting at the barely-visible smudge on the horizon that was the coast of Russia. She shivered a little in her sweater as the wind picked up. It was still autumn, but the equinox had come and gone, and the days were starting to grow shorter and colder. Even after her month of research, Pekoe wouldn't say she knew a lot about Siberia, but what she did know suggested that the weather was only going to get worse from here on out.

"Excited, Pekoe?" Assam was standing beside her, watching the land draw steadily closer.

Excited wasn't quite the word Pekoe would use to describe her feelings right now. Nevertheless, she gave Assam a small nod, before noticing the absence of a certain other blonde.

"Where's Darjeeling-sama?"

"She said something about catching up with Katyusha-san and left for land earlier. She was in a pretty good mood too. I think she did well in her mock exams." Assam winced a little. "For my part, I'm just glad they're over."

"I'm sure you'll do fine, Assam-sama," Pekoe said.

"Thank you, Pekoe," Assam said. "So, have you decided which tank you'll be using in the race?"

Pekoe nodded. "It'll have to be the Cromwell."

"Oh? Care to explain your thought process to me?"

Pekoe fidgeted a little. "Um, take most of this with a pinch of salt, Assam-sama, since I'm not really well-versed in tank racing, but from my research, it looks like reliability plays a big role in the race. Most of the previous winners only suffered a single breakdown or less."

"But the Churchill is as reliable as the Cromwell, is it not? In fact, it's slightly better." A strong gust of wind whipped Assam's hair about, and she barely managed to grab her ribbon before it flew away. She flipped her hair out of her face with an annoyed grunt, and began attempting to put it back into some semblance of order.

Pekoe kept her face carefully neutral, something she had lots of practice with. "Well, yes, but it's still a race, and speed is important too. It was harder to check, since most of the Pravda contestants used T-34s, but there was the occasional IS-2 competing, which are definitely slower, and none of them ever won. In fact, Maple High actually used their Valentines when they took part a couple years back, but they just couldn't keep up with the other competitors even if they were more reliable overall. The Churchill would be just too slow."

Assam turned to Pekoe with a pleased smile, even as she carefully retied her hair ribbon in place. "Well-reasoned, Pekoe. I take it you've been familiarising yourself with the Cromwell as well?"

Pekoe nodded, and Assam's smile grew. "Well then, you seem to be well prepared. I'm sure you'll do us all proud."

The ship's horn sounded at that moment, two long blasts followed by a single short one. Both girls glanced up at the bridge, before Assam turned back to Pekoe. "Looks like we'll be docking in a few hours, Pekoe. I understand that we'll only be departing tomorrow morning for the race location, so you might want to go and wander around a bit in port before it gets too late. I might do the same. After all, it's my first time in Vladivostok as well, and there's a few museums I hear are worth a visit."

The sun was starting to sink towards the horizon when St. Gloriana finally docked, with their berth directly next to Pravda's. The first day of the docking of a schoolship at a port of call inevitably became a chaotic mess, as a large chunk of the ship's population tried to disembark at the same time, and St. Gloriana's was no exception to the rule. Judging by the lack of a similar commotion over at Pravda's ship, they had apparently arrived a day or two before St. Gloriana's. Orange Pekoe had joined the general exodus, and was currently patiently waiting in line to get off the ship with several of her senshadou teammates.

"I hear the borscht you get in Russia is different from what you get back home. I can't wait to try some, Jasmine-chan!"

"That sounds nice. Personally, I want to try some blini. Russian sweets are really good!"

Behind Pekoe, Nilgiri was chattering away happily with Jasmine, while next to her, Rukuriri was tapping away on her phone. Rosehip and Hibiscus were ahead of Pekoe in the queue, so she couldn't hear what they were talking about, but they certainly were very enthusiastic about it.

A tap on her shoulder made Pekoe turn her head around. It was Nilgiri, who was looking rather excited. "Pekoe-san, would you like to come with us for a meal? Apparently there's this restaurant very near the docks that specialises in borscht, and it's highly recommended online. Jasmine-chan and I will be heading there after we're done with shopping, and I think Vanilla-san and Keemun-san are joining us as well."

"I was planning to make some last-minute purchases first, Nilgiri-san, but I'll come and find you and the others after that," Pekoe promised.

Nilgiri nodded happily, then turned back to Jasmine and continued her conversation, while Pekoe pulled out her shopping list. She didn't think she'd left anything out, but it never hurt to double check.

Pekoe walked down the street slowly, trying to get her bearings in this unfamiliar new port. The sun was beginning to set, and the street lights had come on by now, throwing pools of warm illumination onto the pavement beneath. She was done with her shopping, and was now trying to make her way to the restaurant where Nilgiri and the rest were. The neighbourhood just beyond the docks seemed quite busy, and Pekoe could see multiple shops with long queues outside, waiting for entry. It was getting very close to dinner time, after all.

Ahead of Pekoe, a crowd of laughing Pravda students made their way along the street, with more of their schoolmates coming out of restaurants or browsing at street stalls. She could hear plenty of conversations in Japanese around her as well, probably from other inhabitants of the school ships. It almost felt like she was in a Japanese city, but not quite. Most signs were still in Cyrillic, but Orange Pekoe could see plenty of signs written in kana, and even some in kanji.

"This isn't quite what I was expecting Russia to be like," Pekoe muttered to herself.

"We're in the part of town the citizens of Vladivostok call Japantown, Orange Pekoe-san. Pravda docks here often enough that the locals have adapted to the influx of business we bring them. You'll find that most shopkeepers in the area speak enough Japanese to get by, though once you move further away from the schoolship docks and towards Vladivostok proper, that's no longer the case."

Pekoe whirled around. Nonna, Pravda's second-in-command, was standing behind her holding a few shopping bags.

"Nonna-san!"

The tall girl gave Pekoe a small nod. "To be honest, I felt the same way the first time I came here. I'd been practicing my Russian all week, ready to put it to good use, and then at the first shop I entered, I was greeted in fluent Japanese. I was quite disappointed, actually."

"That must have been a bit of a let-down, Nonna-san," Pekoe said. "Especially after all the work I'm sure you must have put into learning Russian."

Nonna's lips turned up in a tiny smile. "Well, I did get to use my Russian later. Like I said, it's only this part of town that is so Japanese-friendly. The rest of Vladivostok isn't quite as multilingual, so be careful if you're going to venture further into the city."

Pekoe bowed a little. "I'll be sure to bear that in mind. Thank you for the advice." As she straightened up, she noticed that Nonna had been joined by another Pravda student, this one blonde and blue-eyed, but also carrying several shopping bags. They must have been shopping together. The new arrival said something to Nonna in what Pekoe assumed was Russian, and Nonna replied in the same language.

She looked a little familiar, now that Pekoe thought about it. Hadn't she been involved in both the Ooarai exhibition match as well as the match against the University All-Stars team?

Nonna glanced at Pekoe, and switched back to Japanese. "Ah, forgive me, Orange Pekoe-san. I don't think you've met Klara here before? She's an exchange student from Russia, and a fellow member of the Pravda senshadou team."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Klara-san. I think I have seen you before, though. Weren't you in Pravda's team during our exhibition match against Ooarai and Chihatan?"

A musical laugh came from Klara. "Yes, I do believe we were allies during that match. I am glad to meet you as well, Orange Pekoe-san."

"You must be pleased to be back in your homeland, Klara-san. It's my first time in Russia, and though it's not as different as I expected, it's still pretty new to me."

"Oh, Vladivostok is as new to me as it is to you, Orange Pekoe-san," Klara said with a smile and a shrug. "I come from Novosibirsk, which is a good six thousand kilometres away, and I had never been to the Russian Far East before this week. Anyway, I hear that you will be participating in this race that Pravda is organising?"

"That's correct, Klara-san," Pekoe said. "Am I right in presuming that you are too?"

"Da, I am. I wish you the best of luck, though you will forgive me if I do my best to win as well."

Pekoe laughed. "I wouldn't expect anything less. All the best to you as well, Klara-san."

Nonna chimed in at this point. "I apologise, Pekoe-san, but you'll have to excuse us. There are some things to be settled before we leave Vladivostok tomorrow, and we need to meet up with Katyusha before that."

"Oh! Of course, don't let me keep you," Pekoe said with another bow.

"Do svidaniya, then. We'll see you tomorrow."

Pekoe waved goodbye to the two Pravda students, then glanced at her phone and began walking briskly through the streets again.

The next day promised to be a long and uneventful one, though one which had started entirely too early in Pekoe's opinion. Intellectually, she understood why they had to board the train to Pravda's training site at four in the morning, but it had still been a struggle to drag herself out of bed and to the station. Of course, Darjeeling-sama and Assam-sama hadn't seemed to have any problems in that respect, with Darjeeling-sama verging on being disgustingly lively for that hour of the morning. Both of them had made sure everyone from St. Gloriana's had boarded safely, before disappearing somewhere. Where, Pekoe wasn't quite sure. Darjeeling had probably gone off to have morning tea with Katyusha or something again.

With Rosehip, Nilgiri and a few others for company, Pekoe had found a carriage and settled down. Originally, she'd been watching the scenery out the train's windows, but after the first hour of seeing nothing but wide swaths of fields and a few scrubby trees, with only the occasional town to break the monotony, Pekoe had drifted off to sleep, and she hadn't been the only one. Rosehip had fallen asleep practically the minute they sat down, and most of the other girls from St. Gloriana's had succumbed to the siren call of slumber around the same time as Pekoe. Most of them were short on sleep after their early awakening, and the sound of gentle snoring filled the train for most of the first half of the journey.

"Pekoe-san! Wake up!"

"Urhm?" Pekoe blinked her eyes sleepily. Where was she again, and why did she have an awful crick in her neck? Oh, right, she was on a train somewhere in the wilderness of Siberia. She looked up to see Rosehip, who was brandishing a large packet of potato crisps at her. Pekoe noted that it was already open, and the crumbs on Rosehip's sweater suggested that she'd already been sampling her purchase enthusiastically.

"The train's stopped for a while, something about a blockage up ahead! Do you want to come and get some fresh air? They've got lots of snacks for sale on the station platform. Oh, and have some crisps! They're good!"

Pekoe stretched, yawning a little. "Give me a minute to freshen up, and then I'll join you, Rosehip-san."

As they got out of the carriage, Pekoe looked around the station. It appeared they had stopped in a small town, though Pekoe couldn't read the Cyrillic script that the name was written in. All around the station platform, girls from Pravda were milling about and chatting with each other, while others were stocking up on snacks. Pekoe could see a few of her own teammates in the crowd as well, gawking at their surroundings. Darjeeling-sama and Assam-sama were probably still on the train, since she couldn't see them anywhere.

"Ah, Orange Pekoe! At last, Katyusha has a chance to speak with you! Darjeeling has told me much about you. Are you looking forward to the race?"

Pekoe turned around at the sound of the Pravda commander's voice. Katyusha, on Nonna's shoulders as usual, was right behind her.

"Ah, Katyusha-san. It's a pleasure to see you too, and you as well, Nonna-san," Pekoe said with a polite bow, though she wasn't really feeling up to conversation with the mercurial girl at the moment. "Umm, I suppose I am? It's certainly a new experience for me."

From her vantage point, Katyusha gave Pekoe a knowing smirk, though Pekoe wondered if she'd noticed Pekoe's mild jab at her lack of greeting. Probably not. After all, this was Katyusha. She'd have been a lot more indignant if she thought she'd been slighted.

"Katyusha doubts you'll still be singing that tune for very long after the race starts. It's going to be tough, you know? The Russian terrain and weather shouldn't be underestimated, not to mention the girls of Pravda. So be prepared, Orange Pekoe! Siberia cares not for elegance. Katyusha won't go easy on you either, even as a favour to Darjeeling."

"I'll bear that in mind, Katyusha-san," Pekoe replied as mildly as she could. Rosehip, on the other hand, laboured under no such restraint.

"Hah! Orange Pekoe-san won't have any problems, I'm sure. She'll be sure to win! Ohohohohohoho!"

Pekoe felt like facepalming. Of all times for Rosehip to try and use that laugh...

Katyusha snorted, probably because she couldn't get Pekoe to rise to her bait. "Well, don't say Katyusha didn't warn you. Nonna! Time to round up the others!"

"I suggest you get back into the train soon, Orange Pekoe-san, Rosehip-san." Nonna said. "The blockage up ahead has been cleared, and we should be moving off soon." The two of them left without waiting for Pekoe's response.

"How rude!" Rosehip gave an indignant glare in the general direction of the two Pravda girls.

"Come on, Rosehip-san. You heard Nonna-san, let's get back on board." Pekoe let out a small sigh. She'd just woken up, but she already felt tired again, and Katyusha's words had left a small, cold lump of disquiet in her stomach.

With the students all back aboard the train, it wasn't long before they started moving again. Pekoe was fidgety and tense, and try as she might, she couldn't get back to sleep again, so she was reduced to staring out the window at nothing in particular. All attempts at conversation by Rosehip or the others hadn't been very successful, so the carriage had stayed quiet for a while.

After about an hour, Darjeeling and Assam had reappeared in Pekoe's carriage, and their first move was to produce a porcelain tea set, complete with what Pekoe recognised as tea from Darjeeling's personal stash, as well as a large box of biscuits. Before long, Pekoe was having tea and biscuits with the others and feeling much better. Darjeeling seemed to have noticed the funk Pekoe was in, and she kept the whole carriage entertained with a store of seemingly inexhaustible stories of her younger days in St. Gloriana's as well as assorted incidents involving some of the other schools, some of which Pekoe could scarcely believe, if not for Assam being right there to back her up. Pekoe wouldn't say her black mood had completely lifted, but listening to Darjeeling's stories did much to alleviate it for the rest of the journey.

Finally, a good thirteen hours after they had set out from Vladivostok, the train pulled into Vandan station, just as the shadows were beginning to lengthen and the sun was low in the sky. To Pekoe's eyes, it was nothing but a platform and a tiny station building in the middle of nowhere, but it was also apparently the closest station to Pravda's facilities. She was stiff and sore from the long journey, and she badly wanted a bath. Judging from the general grumbling that could be heard as the students disembarked, she wasn't the only one.

Thankfully, Pravda's logistics were first-rate, and transports for both the students and their equipment were already waiting for them there. They made it to Pravda's training ground a mercifully short time afterward. The facilities there were spartan, but clean and well-maintained, and Pekoe gratefully flopped into the bunk provided after a quick shower. Some of the other Gloriana girls had gone to join Pravda's students in the mess hall, but Pekoe was too tired to feel hungry. Before five minutes had passed, she'd fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep.

The next morning dawned crisp and cold, with a pale sun beating down from a clear sky. It was as fine weather as you could expect from the Russian Far East in October, and spirits were mostly high. The race was scheduled to begin at midday, but the viewing stands were already slowly filling up with spectators, even at nine in the morning

Pekoe had awoken feeling much better, and a warm breakfast at the mess hall had completed the work of the night's sleep in making her feel human again. Right now, together with the rest of her crew, she was giving the Cromwell a final check before the official flagging off at noon.

"Well, Ruhuna-san, what do you think? Is the Cromwell going to be up to it?"

"Umm, I'm not super well-versed with the Cromwell like I am with the Churchill, Orange Pekoe-san, but the engine's as sound as the mechanics and I can get it, and the handling is as smooth as anyone could wish. I've crammed all the spare parts I could into our weight allowance, but I'd still be very careful with the terrain we drive over. I've seen photos of past races, and it doesn't look pretty."

Pekoe nodded, then turned to the gunner she'd asked to help out, Congou. The girl usually served with Nilgiri's crew, and so had manned the Cromwell before. She was a quiet, stoic girl, but one who was probably one of the best shots in the team.

Before Pekoe could say anything, Congou simply nodded and said "I'm ready, Orange Pekoe-san."

Pekoe smiled in relief. "That's good to hear, Congou-san."

"Yes. I don't think this will be harder than when I manned the Cromwell for Shimada-sama the other time." Congou's face took on an uncharacteristic expression, almost worshipful. "That short period serving with Shimada-sama taught me much. I am indebted to her."

Right, she'd been in Alice's temporary crew, hadn't she? Pekoe resolved to ask Alice just what she had said to the girls who had been her crew after she got back to somewhere with actual phone reception again, but that was a problem for another time.

Kangra, the final member of the crew, was checking the ammunition loadout of the Cromwell inside the tank, and Pekoe clambered in to speak to her.

"Is everything ready, Kangra-san?"

"Pekoe-san." Kangra nodded in acknowledgement, a frown on her face. "I reduced our load as much as I dared, considering we don't anticipate a lot of combat and we need as much room for supplies as possible. Still, we'll have enough ammo for at least three fights, maybe two if they're extended ones." She shook her head. "I don't like having so little, to be honest."

Pekoe sighed. "I don't like it as well, but survival supplies take precedence over ammo, unfortunately. We get one opportunity to resupply, though, so if we find ourselves running low, we can restock then."

"I suppose that'll have to be enough," Kangra said, frown still present. "Still, anything could happen."

The cold lump was back in Pekoe's stomach, as all the myriad ways things could go wrong danced through her mind. She pushed them away and forced a small smile on her face. "Well, since everyone's done, let's go and freshen up a little before the race begins. It'll be the last chance we get for a few days."

It was high noon, and the stands were packed with spectators as the judges completed their inspection of all the participating tanks, ensuring that only the approved amounts of supplies had been brought along. Pekoe cast her gaze along the starting line, counting the number of tanks participating this year. There were three T-34/76s and two T-34/85s, as well as a single BT-7 and a single KV-1 from Pravda participating. Surprisingly, St. Gloriana weren't the only invited team participating this year. Viking Fisheries had sent a tank, a Panzer III, and to Pekoe's great surprise, so had Saunders. Their entry seemed to be a stock M4A1 Sherman at first sight, but Pekoe had learnt long ago to never judge Saunders too quickly.

Still, she didn't come here to stare at tanks from other schools. Pekoe took a few deep breaths as she stood near the spectator stands. She'd be fine. It was just going to be a long drive in the tank. A really long drive, with difficult tasks to perform along the way, in extremely inhospitable terrain and unpredictable weather. Great, now she felt even more nervous.

Turning to face the stands, she caught sight of where the St. Gloriana contingent had set up, complete with banner. Pekoe smiled a little as she saw Rosehip waving a placard bigger than her own head. Darjeeling was there as well, and as Pekoe looked at her, Darjeeling noticed and nudged Assam. Both of them gave Pekoe a small wave, and she felt a little better, though the knot inside her was still squirming around.

"Contestants, you may mount your tanks!" The voice of the head judge boomed out across the field, and everyone scrambled to obey, Pekoe and the other St. Gloriana girls among them.

As Pekoe took her seat in the commander's position, she looked around at her crew, all of whom looked back at her with expectant eyes, and Pekoe found herself a little lost for words.

"Uhh... let's do our best, everyone." The silence was deafening, and Pekoe cursed herself for a fool. Couldn't she have come up with a better line? That had to have been one of the worst motivational speeches ever!

It was then that Pekoe realised that the entire crew was staring at her, and her cheeks slowly started to flush red. "Oh dear. I said that last bit aloud, didn't I?"

At that, Kangra couldn't hold back a giggle any longer, and the tension was broken as the others joined the laughter, including Pekoe. Whatever her feelings, she was here now, and she'd do the best she could. That was her senshadou.

"THREE... TWO... ONE...BEGIN!"

A/N: Yes, I know the bread and salt is supposed to only be for the guest, but this is Katyusha we're talking about. She was never the best with the actual Russian stuff, and Klara and Nonna think her face every time she has to swallow the salty bread is hilariously cute, so they've never bothered correcting her.

Pravda's training site is somewhere between Khabarovsk and Komsomolsk-on-Amur. It's on the west bank of the Amur, since that's the route of the railway and they need access to it to transport tanks to and from the coast. I didn't bother narrowing it any further down, but do let me know if I've been wildly inaccurate.