Much to Pekoe's relief, the first few hours of the race had gone surprisingly smoothly. The Cromwell was running like a dream, and none of Pekoe's fears of a breakdown or something worse had come to pass. Most of the tanks had stayed within sight of each other for the first half-hour or so, but first one, then another, started to peel off from the rest of the tanks, and before the end of the second hour, the Cromwell was alone as it made its way through the scrubby grass and sparse forest landscape that made up the landscape of this part of Russia.

As they trundled along at the best speed Ruhuna could coax out of the Cromwell, Pekoe continued studying the map carefully. They were nearly at the first checkpoint, and the terrain thus far had been fine, but after that, they were heading through a river valley into the wide floodplains of the Amur River beyond, and the ground there would be marshy and soft. While the course didn't look that long on paper, actually running it would be a nightmare as they tried to maneuver in a swampy wasteland. Of course, it was getting late enough in the year that a sudden cold snap might freeze the mud and make things much easier, but trusting in the Russian weather was asking for disaster.

Pekoe frowned and shook her head slightly. There wasn't any point in dwelling on hypotheticals right now. They'd be coming up against their first checkpoint and their first challenge soon, and she'd be better off focusing on that instead of worrying about something that might not even happen.

"Orange Pekoe-san, I estimate we'll be reaching the first checkpoint in 20 minutes or so, based on our current speeds and the map they issued us."

"Thank you, Ruhuna." Folding up her own copy of the map, Pekoe cleared her throat a little.

"All right, everyone. We've nearly reached the first checkpoint and our first challenge. Let's all do our best, St. Gloriana's is counting on us!"

Back at the viewing stands, Assam cupped her hands around a steaming cup of tea, and carefully sipped at it. She immediately made a face at its taste, but it was hot and she was cold, so she reluctantly took another sip.

"The local tea not quite to your taste, Assam?" Darjeeling was drinking from her own cup with a pleased expression. Assam had expected better taste from her friend, especially with regards to tea.

"I will never understand your liking for Russian tea, Darjeeling. It tastes of nothing but smoke!"

"I do admit the flavour is rather strong, especially if one is not used to it, but it is pure slander to claim that Russian tea is lacking in nuance. Give it another try, but this time, perhaps try not to swallow quite as rapidly. You could also try adding the sugar Russian-style, with the sugar lump in your mouth as you drink, though I confess that is a step too far for even myself."

Assam just shook her head in disbelief, turning back to the large viewing screen that was currently displaying the progress of all the participants on a map. Most of the racers had already reached the first checkpoint or were almost there, with several already progressing beyond it. Unfortunately, Pekoe wasn't among them, and so most of the St. Gloriana's contingent was starting to get distracted.

"... and it looks like one of the tanks has managed to get itself stuck in a bog! Let's see which one it is... Oh! It appears to be the BT-7! How will they get out of this particular pickle? But first, a word from one of our sponsors!"

Assam gazed balefully at the race announcer, who had been giving a very impassioned commentary on the events being broadcast on the viewing screen. "You'd think she'd tone it down a little. The tank's just stuck, not sinking."

"Come now, Assam. It is literally the announcer's job to announce what is happening, and to, as they say, 'hype the crowd up'. Besides, it is still early days yet. Who knows how long this enthusiasm will last?" Darjeeling took another sip of tea and let out a small, satisfied noise.

Assam gave a small huff, then turned back to the announcer, who apparently was now back on after the commercial break.

"Welcome back! If you're just joining us now, this is the 24th Pravda High School Tank Endurance Challenge, live from the wilds of the Russian Far East, and this is your host, Tatiana, from Pravda High School's Broadcasting Club! Now, while we wait for the brave girls of Pravda to get their trusty steed out of that bog, let me give you a brief overview of the history of this illustrious event!"

Assam perked up a little. "This sounds like it might be interesting, Darjeeling."

Darjeeling lifted a hand to her mouth, eyes opening wide. "Do you mean to tell me that the head of GI:6 does not already know all there is to know about the race and its history?! I am shocked, Assam, positively shocked."

"Oh, shut up, Darjeeling. You know as well as I do that I'm more interested in how Pravda is telling the story than in the story itself. Now hush, I'm trying to listen!"

"... was started in commemoration of a particularly hard-fought match of Pravda's! It was the finals of the 39th National Senshadou Championships, and Pravda was facing off against Kuromorimine! During the match, Pravda's tanks were lured away from the flag tank by a feint, one which was then ruthlessly taken advantage of! Kuromorimine's tanks suddenly pounced on the isolated flag tank, which only had a single other tank escorting it, and soon cornered it!"

Scattered boos could be heard from the crowd at the mention of Kuromorimine's name, something that left Assam grimly amused. Kuromorimine's dominance had cast a long shadow over the sport in the last decade. There hadn't been too many tears shed when they had been defeated in the last two championships, though most non-Pravda schools thought that Kuromorimine's loss in the 62nd championship had been due to some rather unsporting behaviour.

The announcer continued enthusiastically, barely pausing to take another breath. "Luckily, Pravda's team that year was commanded by the senshadou genius Koyanagi 'Svetlana' Hikari, perhaps the greatest senshadou athlete Pravda has ever produced! She directed the flag tank in such a way that it managed to escape the trap and find a defensive position from which to hold out and await rescue, as Pravda's other tanks attempted to return and aid it. However, the playing field for this match was an unusually large one, and Kuromorimine had planned their trap carefully! Pravda's forces were almost at the other end of the battlefield and had to battle their way through the rest of Kuromorimine's tanks to reach their own beleaguered flag tank!"

'Oohs' and 'Aahs' drifted up from the crowd as the announcer warmed to her subject. Grainy archival footage played on the large screen, with the current live transmission relegated to a tiny inset on the bottom right for now.

"Yes, folks, it was a nail-biting whopper of a match! Kuromorimine's forces put up stiff resistance, but finally, after a desperate race across the battlefield, using every trick they knew, plus some good old-fashioned skill, Pravda's tanks broke through to their flag tank, just as Kuromorimine was about to finally knock it out! Once they rescued it, Koyanagi-san personally led the countercharge and took out Kuromorimine's flag tank herself!"

"And so, the next year, Pravda decided to hold an annual tank race, in commemoration of their great victory and the epic race across the battlefield, which is the very event that you are now watching! Koyanagi-san, who had gone pro after graduation, donated the initial trophy together with the rest of her championship-winning team, and the race has only grown in stature and prestige since then! Usually, the race is only open to Pravda students and alumni, but there have been several years where guests from other schools were invited to participate, and this year is one such year!"

As the announcer finally paused, Rosehip turned to Nilgiri with shining eyes. "I didn't know this race had such an interesting story behind it! Do you know which other schools have taken part in the race, Nilgiri-san?"

Nilgiri's forehead furrowed a little as she thought. "Umm, this is the first time we're taking part, of course, and then there's Viking Fisheries and Saunders. I think this is their third time, or second time in the case of Saunders. Maple High and Viggen High have also been invited several times before. Uhh...I think that's all?"

"You forgot Keizoku, Nilgiri. They were invited once, back in the 5th edition of the race, but they have never been invited back since." Assam leaned over to join in the conversation, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Huh. I wonder why?" Rosehip looked puzzled. "They've got really good tank drivers, don't they? Maybe Pravda just doesn't want to lose?"

"Maybe? Who knows? I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that the Keizoku senshadou team began fielding several second-hand T-34s and BT-7s the year after they took part."

Rosehip continued to look utterly confused, even as Nilgiri looked like she was desperately trying to suppress the urge to giggle at Assam's perfect poker face and deadpan tone.

"Oh, and Kuromorimine has had a standing invitation since the very first race, of course. They've never taken it up, though," Assam continued. "Personally, I don't blame them."

The look on Rosehip's face only grew more perplexed. "Why wouldn't they, Assam-sama? Isn't this race a pretty prestigious one? I thought Kuromorimine was all about winning?"

Darjeeling's smile was sharper than usual, even as she joined the conversation. "Kuromorimine would never have taken up the invitation, Rosehip, simply because Pravda would have spared no opportunity to remind them that this was in commemoration of their defeat. Pravda are many things, but being magnanimous in victory is not one of them. No, Kuromorimine's pride would never allow them to take part in this race."

"Hmph. Their loss, then." Rosehip looked almost disbelieving that someone would turn down an invitation to a race. She turned back to face the screen, then suddenly shot upright and out of her seat with a yell.

"Sit down, Rosehip! What's gotten into you?"

"Look, look! It's the Cromwell! Pekoe-san's reached the first checkpoint!"

The sun was very low in the sky by the time the Cromwell finally emerged from the forest and into a large, open clearing, which if the map was correct, should be the first checkpoint of the race. As the tank shuddered to a halt, Pekoe stuck her head out of the hatch and glanced around. The first thing she noted was that she wasn't alone in the clearing. A Pravda T-34/76 was coming to a halt in the centre of the clearing, and as Pekoe watched, the M4A1 Sherman that she had noticed at the start of the race appeared out of the forest that the Cromwell had been in just a minute ago. Off to the side, a BA-64 armoured car in Pravda markings could be seen, with a couple of Pravda students wearing armbands proclaiming them to be race officials sitting at a table covered in papers and other writing paraphernalia set up next to it.

The whole scene looked somewhat surreal to Pekoe, especially with the wilderness all still around them. Still, it was a welcome change from the monotony of the last few hours. In a normal senshadou match, you had to be constantly looking out for enemy tanks as well as terrain hazards, but the fact that this was a race meant that the threat of enemy action was much reduced. All of them had done their best to stay alert, but after exhausting every conversation topic they could think of after the first hour, it had been excruciating to try and maintain their focus. Kangra had nearly nodded off a few times, and even Congou, usually one of the sharpest girls on the team, had developed a rather glazed expression.

Still, the threat of enemy action wasn't completely gone. There had been rumours of foul play in the edition of the race held two years ago, according to the information Assam had passed on to Pekoe, and though nothing had ever been proven, the organising committee had subsequently tightened the rules and increased their oversight of the proceedings. Still, the fact remained that the race took place over a very large area and the judges couldn't be watching everywhere at once. As such, Orange Pekoe meant to keep a wary eye out throughout the race, just in case. She did have to admit that doing so was easier said than done, especially after they'd driven past their ten thousandth identical-looking tree in a row.

A crackle sounded from inside the tank, heralding an incoming radio transmission. Out of habit, Orange Pekoe dropped back into the turret, ready to receive the message, only to see Kangra already operating the radio, looking relieved that she finally had something to do. This whole 'tank commander' thing really did take some getting used to.

"Entry no. 6, St. Gloriana's Girls' College, Mark VII Cromwell. Please send a representative to the race officials to be briefed on the requirements to pass the first checkpoint."

Acknowledging the request, Pekoe clambered nimbly out of the tank and hopped to the ground. As she began walking to where the race officials were waiting, she could see that her counterparts from the T-34/76 and the Sherman were approaching as well. The Pravda student, a cheery-looking brunette, was ambling along, seemingly without a care in the world, but the blonde, pony-tailed girl dressed in the Saunders uniform next to her was the exact opposite. She had a scowl plastered on her face, and she seemed tense and jumpy, with her hands balled into fists, though she thrust them into her jacket's pockets as she noticed Pekoe's gaze on her.

Turning away from the other two girls, Pekoe came to a stop in front of the table where the two race officials were waiting. One of them, a short, dark-haired girl, rose, and once the three contestants were lined up in front of her, began to speak.

"Welcome ta the first checkpoint of the Tank Endurance Challenge! Congrats on gettin' this far, but y'all gonna be stuck here till ya've managed to finish the task we're gonna be givin' ya. If any of ya wanna quit at any time, yer free to do so, but then y'll be gettin' an automatic penalty of two hours added ta yer time. Y'all clear so far, or d'any of ya need me ta go over it from the start agin?"

All three girls shook their heads, though Pekoe thought the Saunders girl was scowling even harder than before. It was rather impressive, actually. She hadn't thought it was even possible for a forehead to be that furrowed. Perhaps it was due to the Pravda official's thick accent? To be honest, Pekoe was having a little trouble parsing it herself. The other race official, a brown-haired girl wearing her hair in a braid, must have noticed their confusion, since she nudged her black-haired colleague a little while clearing her throat. The first official frowned, then sat back down and let the brunette stand up and continue the briefing in a much more standard dialect of Japanese.

"Your task here will be a test of your gunnery abilities. We've set up multiple targets hidden in the forest ahead, and you'll have to hunt down the ones labelled with your own number. There will be a total of ten targets assigned to each contestant, and once you have successfully hit all of the targets assigned to you, the task is complete and you may move on immediately. However, if you hit any targets assigned to a competitor, you will incur a penalty of ten minutes per mistaken target hit. Obviously, any shots hitting an actual opponent will result in instant disqualification from the race. Are there any questions? If not, then you may proceed whenever you're ready."

The T-34's commander simply shook her head before casually heading back to her tank, while the Saunders girl glowered at the race officials a little longer before stalking off. Orange Pekoe watched her for a little while, then slowly made her own way back to the Cromwell. The blonde girl's strange behaviour had her a little concerned. What on earth had gotten her into such a bad mood?

Pekoe let out a sigh. She supposed there wasn't any point dwelling on it, since she had enough worries of her own without getting involved in other people's business. Still, it might be wise to keep tabs on the Sherman from here on out. She had an uncomfortable feeling that this wouldn't be the last time she saw them.

Pekoe squinted through the periscope again. Yes, that was a six all right, painted on the front turret of the Tiger in front of her.

"Target at 11 o'clock confirmed, Congou-san. Fire at will."

The Cromwell's gun roared out, and another wooden target in the shape of a Tiger vanished into splinters. Pekoe breathed a sigh of relief. That was their last target, which meant they could finally move on. The light was failing fast, and she had wanted to finish this task before nightfall. They'd already switched on their headlights, but even with them on, none of them could see more than a few meters ahead in the gloom of the forest. Orange Pekoe was pretty sure that they'd already accidentally destroyed at least one other target not assigned to them.

The dim light had also led to a near miss with the Pravda T-34/76, where both of them had almost mistaken the other for a target and only barely avoided shooting in the nick of time. Pekoe didn't particularly want to be disqualified due to a friendly fire incident, so after that, she'd taken pains to avoid the other two tanks in the forest. Still, the Sherman had been particularly aggressive while hunting down targets, and Ruhuna had been forced to take evasive action several times when they'd found themselves too close to where the Sherman was firing. Unfortunately, this mean that the Cromwell had been the last tank out of the three to finish the task, or so Pekoe surmised from the lack of any other engine or gun sounds around. Still, it could be worse. Any tanks showing up at the checkpoint now would either have to wait till sunrise or flounder around in the dark.

"Entry no. 6, St. Gloriana's Girls College, Mark VII Cromwell. We confirm destruction of all your assigned targets, and you are free to move on to the next checkpoint. Be advised that a twenty-minute penalty will be added to your final time for the destruction of two targets not assigned to you."

Urgh. So they'd actually blown up two wrong targets, not just one. Swallowing her disappointment, Pekoe acknowledged the transmission. Now came the difficult part. Should she press on, even as night fell, or should they stop for the night and rest?

"Kangra-san, Congou-san, Ruhuna-san. Good job, all of you. Now, we've got a choice ahead of us. Do you all feel comfortable with pressing on in the dark, or would you prefer to rest and continue at daybreak?"

Congou and Kangra looked at each other, then at Pekoe. After a small nod from Congou, Kangra turned to face Pekoe. "Honestly, Pekoe-san, I think we do need to take a break, and doing it at night when we can't see is probably a good idea. However, I'd suggest getting out of this forest first. You never know when a tree might fall, and I'd hate to be under one if it did decide to come down."

Congou nodded. "I concur with Kangra-san. We will require rest, but if we wish to set up camp somewhere, this is not a good place for it."

Pekoe pulled out the map of the area, studying it for a while before placing her finger on a thin blue line. "It looks like there's a stream relatively nearby. It's close enough to the forest that we can go and get wood for a fire, but far enough that we won't risk a tree or a branch falling on us in the night. Any objections to heading over there and setting up camp?"

Both the others shook their heads, and Ruhuna chimed in as well via the intercom. "I trust your judgement, Pekoe-san."

Pekoe nodded sharply. "Then let's head there and set up camp. If we hurry, we can get there before the sun sets fully."

Kangra dropped another load of branches onto the pile next to the crackling fire. "That should be enough to last us till morning, Pekoe-san."

"Ah, thank you, Kangra-san." Pekoe looked up from where she was stacking the filled jerry cans she had just finished lugging back from the stream. Over by the tank, Ruhuna was going over every inch of it with a torch, occasionally letting out a small exclamation and fiddling with whatever it was that she'd found to be wrong with the tank. Meanwhile, Congou had finished cleaning up the leftovers from their frugal dinner, and now joined Pekoe and Kangra beside the fire to begin the most important task of the night: preparing the tea.

Ruhuna and Congou watched eagerly as Kangra, hand wrapped in a thick cloth, carefully lifted the kettle off the improvised rack that held it over the fire. Off to the side, Pekoe had already measured out a precise portion of the tea leaves they'd brought along into the teapot. After a short wait to let the water cool slightly to just the right temperature, the teapot was carefully filled, and the fragrance of the best Ceylon tea to be found on this side of the Sea of Japan began to waft through the air.

Once her crew had all begun drinking, looks of contentment on their face, Pekoe picked up her own cup and took a small sip, savouring the taste. A slightly larger mouthful of tea followed, and even as the first rush of flavour hit Pekoe, she felt the cares and the regrets of the first day of the race begin to fade away. Idly, Pekoe glanced up, only to find her eyes widening as she took in the millions of stars that blazed like gemstones across the entire sky. Following Pekoe's gaze, Kangra let out a loud gasp at the sight, prompting both Congou and Ruhuna to look up as well. All four of them stared at the sky, mesmerised by what they were seeing. They were all city girls, after all, and it wasn't often that they found themselves somewhere where they could just marvel at the universe in all its splendour.

How long they stared at the sky, Pekoe never knew. It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Still, even the most magical moment eventually came to an end, and the massive yawn that came from Ruhuna broke the spell that had left them all transfixed.

"Ah! I'm sorry!"

Blinking a little in the firelight, Congou shook her head. "There is nothing to apologise for, Ruhuna-san. We are all tired, and our bodies require rest if we are to perform at our best tomorrow. I think it would be best if we turned in for the night now, Orange Pekoe-san."

Now that it had been brought up, Pekoe found her eyelids suddenly becoming a lot heavier than they had been. "I... yawn...think that's a good idea, Congou-san. Before we do that, though, we should probably assign night watch duties. There's apparently dangerous wildlife around, like bears and even a few Siberian tigers, and it might be wise to keep the fire burning."

Kangra nodded in agreement. "I'll take first watch, then, Pekoe-san. You look like you could use some rest right now. Ruhuna-san, are you alright with taking second watch? Congou-san can take the third one, and you can take the final watch, Pekoe-san."

Both Ruhuna and Congou agreed, while Orange Pekoe tried to demur, but Kangra was firm that she needed the rest, and she finally gave in. As Pekoe crawled into her sleeping bag, the last thing she saw before her eyes closed was Kangra sitting by the fire, taking another sip of tea and humming softly to herself. All things considered, this hadn't been too bad a start to the race. Hopefully, everything else would go smoothly from here on out.

Pekoe awoke to the gentle shaking of her shoulder. She let out a small groan, even as she tried to open eyes gummed together by sleep. Had she fallen asleep at her desk again? Why was she feeling so stiff and cold?

"Orange Pekoe-san? It is currently 4 am in the morning." Congou's soft monotone brought Pekoe fully back to the present. Right, she was somewhere in Siberia, in the middle of a four-day tank race. Also, she was due on watch.

As Pekoe slowly emerged from her sleeping bag, shivering as she left its warmth, her mind cleared enough to realise that she'd been awoken almost an hour later than she should have been. She put on her boots, then rose and turned to where Congou was unrolling her own sleeping bag. Had that girl actually taken the time to roll it up neatly when she had been roused for her watch? Then again, this was Congou. Pekoe had heard stories from some of the second-years on the team about how you could set the school clock by her schedule, and that her idea of a messy bed was one with the blanket folded in half instead of in quarters.

"Congou-san? Weren't we going by the standard 3-hour watches? I should have been roused at 3 am, shouldn't I?" Pekoe's breath formed a misty cloud around her as she spoke, one that slowly drifted away in the flickering firelight.

"Ah, my apologies, Orange Pekoe-san," Congou said, not sounding apologetic at all. "Kangra-san apparently misjudged the time, and so woke Ruhuna-san late. Hence, I was awoken late as well, and thus elected to wake you only after I had finished my prescribed length of time on watch. Incidentally, there is some hot water in the thermos, so you can make yourself some tea if you wish."

Pekoe fixed Congou with a stare, one which the quiet girl easily ignored as she unlaced her boots and got into her own sleeping bag. Sighing, the orange-haired girl turned away, though not without a small smile on her face. Kangra, misjudging the time? Perhaps the only thing less likely to happen was Nishizumi Shiho publicly admitting the superiority of the Shimada style. After all this was over, Pekoe told herself, she was going to treat the three of them to a good dinner in a nice restaurant. It was the least they deserved.

As the first grey light of dawn started to illuminate their surroundings, Pekoe began rousing her crewmates. She'd made sure there was a pot of hot tea and some warm food waiting for them, and after a quick breakfast, they started breaking camp. The work went by quickly, and the sun still hadn't fully risen by the time they were done, much to Pekoe's pleasant surprise. She was feeling a lot better than she had been, especially after that night of uninterrupted sleep, and she thought their chances of catching up to the rest of the competition were looking good.

"Alright, everyone. It's a new day, so let's all do our best. Yes, Ruhuna-san? What is it?" Ruhuna was fidgeting a little, and clearly had something to say.

"Ah... Pekoe-san, I was looking at the maps during my watch, and I've plotted out a route that I think will let us catch up with the other contestants, as long as we set a faster pace than yesterday's." The driver sounded quietly confident in her assertion, and Pekoe had to admit that if anyone could pull it off, Ruhuna could.

"That's great, Ruhuna-san, but can the Cromwell take it if we increase the pace? More importantly, can you take it if we increase the pace?"

Ruhuna gave Pekoe a firm nod in reply. "Don't worry, Pekoe-san. I won't let St. Gloriana's down."

"Well spoken, Ruhuna-san," Congou said. "We shall place our trust in you, then."

Pekoe smiled. "As will I, Ruhuna-san. Now, let's get out there and show Pravda that we're just as good as any of their students."

The quiet cheer that went up from all of the other girls warmed Pekoe's heart even more than the hot tea had.

Ruhuna was as good as her word, and the Cromwell set a blistering pace throughout the morning as they made their way towards the next checkpoint. They made a brief stop at mid-morning to take on water and rest both the tank and crew for a little while, and after some quick calculations, Pekoe estimated that they'd managed to make up for the ground they'd lost yesterday.

After they restarted, however, Ruhuna was forced to start cutting back on their speed, as the tank began to flounder in a landscape that grew soggier every minute. They had finally reached the vast flood plain of the Amur River, and the autumn rains had been heavy this year. Before long, the Cromwell's speed was reduced to a crawl, as the mud hungrily grasped at their tracks and tried its best to suck them down into its embrace. Orange Pekoe had lost track of the number of times they'd had to dismount to try and clean the tracks, or to lay the logs they had brought for this exact purpose over particularly tricky sections. So far, only Ruhuna's skill and a large dose of luck had prevented them getting stuck anywhere for too long, but it was still a constant danger, and the swamp seemed to stretch on forever.

As the day wore on, morale in the Cromwell continued to sink. Anyone who dismounted ended up covered in a layer of sticky mud, one which seemed almost impossible to completely remove. The terrain itself was almost aggressively monotonous, with a vast, flat plain stretching out as far as the eye could see, covered in stubby grass and broken only by countless small streams and rivulets. The grey, overcast sky completed the depressing picture.

Even Pekoe's earlier good humour couldn't last long under such circumstances, and she was already feeling irritable and tetchy. Congou had grown even more stoic than usual, barely speaking at all, and Kangra was constantly muttering under her breath. Ruhuna had thrown herself completely into her driving, and it was all Pekoe could do to make her take the occasional break. As Katyusha had said to Pekoe before the race, Siberia cared not one whit for elegance. And then, to make matters worse, it started to rain.

"Orange Pekoe-san, are you sure we can't try and go around the swamp somehow? This is the ninth time we've gotten stuck, and I don't think it's going to be the last." Kangra had a haunted look on her face at the thought, even as she, Congou, and Pekoe finished laying out the battered-looking logs under the tank's treads yet again.

Pekoe swallowed the urge to snap at Kangra. Instead, she just sighed. "I'd love nothing more, but the next checkpoint is apparently right next to the Amur River. There's absolutely no way to reach it without going through the swamp. Unless you've got an idea to share?" Inwardly, she winced. That had come out a little sharper than she had meant it to.

Thankfully, Kangra didn't react beyond a small shake of the head and a small grunt of annoyance as she tried to extricate herself from the mud. Next to her, Pekoe strained a little, trying to lift her own foot out of the shin-deep muck it was currently bogged down in. Finally, the mud released its hold on her right boot with a loud squelching sound, and Pekoe carefully took a step forward. The rain had slowed to a thin drizzle by now, and their raincoats had managed to keep most of it out. Still, some water inevitably seeped through anyway, and Pekoe would be very glad to finally get back in the tank and out of the wet.

Beside her, Kangra slumped wearily, then let out a sneeze. "Ugh, Pravda. Only they'd be sadistic enough to make contestants slog through a swamp like this." As the three of them continued to struggle through the mud, Pekoe couldn't help but agree with the sentiment, though only in the privacy of her own mind.

Finally, they were clear of the tank, and Pekoe activated her comlink. "Ruhuna-san, we've finished deploying the logs. See if you can get the tank moving now."

With a rumble, the Cromwell's engine came to life, and ever so slowly, tracks straining, the tank slowly ground its way forward, out of the bog and onto slightly firmer ground.

"We're out, Pekoe-san!" Ruhuna's voice came over everyone's comlink at the same time.

Kangra let out a ragged cheer, while Congou's lips curved upwards ever so slightly. Pekoe just let out a sigh of relief. As they gingerly remounted the tank, doing their best to scrape the mud off before entering, the only thing that kept Pekoe vaguely happy was the knowledge that every other contestant would be suffering through these conditions as well.

After another gruelling half-hour, the rain finally ceased altogether, and the sun began cautiously breaking through the clouds. As they continued to progress towards the spot marked as the next checkpoint, Pekoe emerged from the hatch for the first time in a while to take a look at their surroundings, and was rewarded by finally sighting something in the distance that broke the endless sameness of the floodplain. Reaching for her field glasses, she placed them to her eyes, then let out a gasp. Pravda's flag fluttered atop a tall pole, visible for miles around thanks to the flat landscape. Beside it, the Amur River stretched off into the horizon like a shimmering ribbon of silver, sunlight glinting off the surging water. It was the second checkpoint at last, and Pekoe estimated they could be there in the next thirty minutes or so.

As they slowly made their way towards it, the flagpole loomed larger and larger through Pekoe's field glasses. For the first time in a long while, the sound of other engines could be heard as well, and Pekoe noted that there were four other tanks already at the checkpoint. Hopefully Ruhuna's efforts had paid off, and they weren't among the last to reach the checkpoint.

Finally, they pulled to a halt beside the flagpole, as Pravda's banner flapped in the wind. A similar desk as the first checkpoint had been set up there, with two race officials sitting there chatting to each other. Four other girls were standing in a loose line in front of the desk, and Pekoe recognised the grumpy-looking Saunders student from the first checkpoint, as well as that blonde exchange student of Pravda's, Klara. The other two were new to her, with both of them being Pravda students. All of them, much like Pekoe, had their uniforms splattered with mud.

Placing herself at the end of the line, Pekoe gave Klara a small nod in greeting, one which the Russian returned with a smile. The other two Pravda girls looked over, then looked away again after a quick glance. The Saunders student was the only one who ignored Pekoe completely, instead choosing to direct her gaze at the officials.

Yawning, one of the officials stood up. "Oh good, we've finally got five tanks here. Now we can proceed with the task." She flinched at the glare thrown at her by the Saunders student. "Hey, if I had my way, I'd have let you guys do it as soon as you arrived. Rules are rules though, and they say this task needs five tanks at a time."

The official turned to the rest of the waiting girls. "Anyway, here's what y'all are gonna have to do. Take a good look at the opposite bank of the river. There's five enemy tanks over there, and they've all been happily waitin' for you lot to show up. Y'all are gonna have to work together to eliminate them before they eliminate you. Finish all five of 'em off, and you can proceed on to the final checkpoint."

Instantly, the sound of muttering filled the air, or in the case of the Saunders girl, what Pekoe was pretty sure were English swearwords. One of the Pravda girls waved her hand in the air.

"Question! What happens if we get hit? Do we get knocked out of the race immediately, or can we fix our tank up and continue?"

"If you take a hit that pops your flag, you'll have to wait till either all of you are eliminated or the opposing force is. Once that's happened, we'll allow you to fix up your tank and proceed if you can, but you'll take an hour's penalty to your final time, as well as however long it takes you to get your tank fixed. If all of you get eliminated, the penalty will be two hours instead. And yes, you're allowed to request your one-time resupply here." The official looked around. "Any other questions? If not, y'all might want to start planning your strategy. You've got 15 minutes."

Instantly, Klara drew her two schoolmates into a huddle, then beckoned to Pekoe and the Saunders student as well. Pekoe hastened over, but the blonde girl took a little longer before she joined the rest of them.

When she finally arrived, Klara spoke up. "We do not have much time, so let us make this quick. We will need to know each other's capabilities if we are to succeed in the task here, so I think a short round of introductions would be good. To start, I am Klara, from Pravda High, and I'm using a T-34/85. Let us all get along."

"Irina, commanding a T-34/76. Please take care of me."

"You can call me Natalia, and my tank is a T-34/85 like Klara-san's here. Nice to meet you all." The Pravda girl gave them all a small bow.

Pekoe returned the bow politely. "Likewise, Natalia-san, Irina-san, Klara-san. I'm Orange Pekoe from St. Gloriana's, and I'm currently using a Cromwell Mark VII. I hope to work well with all of you."

Finally, it was the Saunders girl's turn. For the first time since Pekoe had seen her, her scowl had more or less left her face, and now she just looked tired. "Karen, from Saunders, and I've got an M4A1."

Klara's expression was serious. "Thank you for your cooperation. I know we are competitors, but we will to have to work together if we want to complete this challenge successfully." She looked around at the faces of the others, receiving a nod from Irina and Pekoe and an "Agreed, Klara-san" from Natalia. Karen stared challengingly at Klara for a moment, but eventually she nodded too.

"Now to start, we will need to figure out who's got the best gunner and the best driver here..."

"Hmm... what do you think, Orange Pekoe-san?" Natalia had a very perplexed look on her face, even as she lowered her pair of binoculars and turned to Pekoe.

The two girls were crouched behind a clump of bushes on the river bank, doing their best to observe the tanks of their soon-to-be opponents. It wasn't exactly an easy task; the river was at least a kilometre wide, and even binoculars could only do so much at that distance. When coupled with the fact that the tanks were hiding inside a small grove of trees, things became even more difficult.

After a few more moments with her eyes glued to her own binoculars' eyepieces, Pekoe lowered them and turned to the Pravda girl. "I agree, Natalia-san. That's a KV-2 there, together with three T-34/76s, and a T-34/85."

Natalia nodded, though the puzzled expression didn't leave her face. "Well, if you're seeing it too, then it must really be there. I do wonder where Katyusha-taichou managed to find a replacement crew though..."

"Pardon, Natalia-san?"

"Ah, apologies. I was just thinking aloud. Anyway, let's get back to the others."

A little way from the river, the five tanks that made up the ad hoc team were idling as they waited for Pekoe and Natalia to return from scouting. The three remaining tank commanders were each occupying themselves in their own way: Irina was quietly talking to her crew, Klara was inspecting her tank together with her driver and gunner, and Karen had nearly worn a groove into the ground beside her tank as she paced up and down.

"Finally! Took you two long enough. So? What're we facing?" Karen turned her seemingly ever-present scowl on the two girls as they made their way back to the others.

"Let's all gather around first. I'd rather not repeat myself." Natalia was polite, but firm, and though Karen looked like she'd just been told to jump off a cliff, she held her tongue.

The five of them came together in a loose circle, and Natalia and Pekoe laid out their observations quickly, aware that their preparation time was running out. Still, there was an awkward pause once they'd finished, as all of them glanced back and forth and waited for someone, anyone, to speak up. Finally, Klara cleared her throat and broke the silence.

"Now that what we are facing is clear to us, allow me to lay out what I believe is likely to happen. The logical course of action is for the T-34/85 to act as a sniper from the woods, as it has the best armament out of the five tanks, while the other tanks will probably be protecting it. I suggest that we should focus on defeating it quickly, as it will be targeting us and it is capable of defeating any of our tanks if it manages to get the right shot. The plan we discussed earlier should still work, but we will have to be careful."

"I agree, Klara-san. It's possible that Nonna-fukutaichou is involved in this task, and we all know what she can do if you give her the least leeway." Irina's tone seemed to be professional enough, but Pekoe could hear the apprehension bleeding through. The way Natalia and Klara were nodding suggested that they could hear it too. Karen was already frowning, but the mention of Nonna's name only made her expression even more thunderous.

"What about the KV-2, Klara-san?" Pekoe grimaced a little. "I saw what it did to that building in the Ooarai match, and I'm not eager to take a hit from it."

Karen let out a dismissive snort. "That oversized piece of junk? Why worry about it? I doubt it could hit the broad side of a barn. Everyone knows that Pravda's pipsqueak of a commander only keeps fielding it because it's her favourite tank."

"Karen-san." Klara's voice was icy. "I would thank you not to insult the school that is currently hosting you, nor the commander that has led Pravda to victory countless times."

The Saunders girl flushed red and turned away, though it didn't look like she planned on apologising. Klara simply turned back to Orange Pekoe as if the last minute had never happened.

"With regards to what the KV-2 is likely to do, Orange Pekoe-san, it will probably be constantly firing HE shells at our general direction. That will ensure that we cannot dig in anywhere and are forced to keep moving, thus becoming easy prey for sideshots."

Natalia winced. "Yeah, the KV-2 does do quite well at keeping you moving, if only so you don't get hit by an entire 152mm shell's worth of high explosive. I think the plan could still work, but we'll need to take out the KV-2 even before we deal with the T-34/85, or at least distract it."

A series of nods all around followed, even from Karen, and Natalia noticeably relaxed. "Does anyone have anything else to add?"

Silence followed, only broken by a loud shout from one of the race officials, a bespectacled girl with a short braid. "Hey, are you guys done yet? You're almost out of time, you know!"

"We know, Olga! We're just about done, so hold your horses!" Natalia yelled back. Turning back to the others, she put her hands behind her head, and let out a small huff. "Sheesh, once a class rep, always a class rep. I swear she gets bossier every year..."

A tiny smile on her face, Klara continued where Natalia left off. "Well, if there is nothing else, and now that we have both a plan and knowledge of the enemy, let us not delay any longer. Za Pravda! URRAA!"

The other two Pravda girls echoed Klara's shout, and though Pekoe didn't join in, she felt her spirits lifting as well. Even Karen's frown dwindled away to almost nothing, and she looked almost excited.

"If you all are quite done, we'll be starting in the next few minutes. Head back to your tanks, please." The glasses-wearing race official was tapping her foot impatiently, and everyone, even Karen, hastened to return to their tanks. The second challenge of the Pravda Expedition Challenge was about to begin.

A huge fountain of dirt spurted up into the air, and Ruhuna threw the Cromwell into a bruisingly sharp turn to avoid the crater that had opened up in front of them. In the turret, Orange Pekoe was taking deep breaths and trying her best to channel Darjeeling's ability to sound completely unruffled at all times.

"Klara-san? I believe I have, err, successfully gotten the attention of our opponents. I would appreciate it very much if we were to proceed with the rest of the plan as soon as possible."

While she wasn't quite managing to sound as calm as Darjeeling would, such minor lapses were perfectly forgivable at times like this, in Pekoe's humble opinion. Anyone who thought otherwise was welcome to try their hand at it.

Another massive shell soared across the river, barely missing them and setting off an ear-splitting explosion that made Orange Pekoe very grateful for the compulsory noise dampeners in their radio earpieces. The higher-pitched whine of the 76mm shells and the duller thump of the 85mm from the other Pravda tanks on the opposing force simply added to the cacophony. Why had she agreed to be the bait again?

To be fair, the initial plan had been sound enough. Ruhuna was probably the best driver, and the Cromwell the most agile tank available, so it was logical that the Cromwell would be the best choice to try and distract the opposing force's tanks while Klara's and Natalia's hard-hitting T-34/85s tried to counter-snipe the snipers. The Sherman and the T-34/76 would provide cover fire for the heavy hitters and act as additional distraction.

Having to engage at maximum range from across the river was not exactly Pekoe's idea of a effective fight, but trying to press for the only bridge to cross and fight at closer ranges would be suicide if the enemy wasn't suppressed first, hence the plan to take out the two heavy tanks first. Once the KV-2 and the T-34/85 were taken out or suppressed, the two T-34/85s, with their thicker armour would head for the bridge and secure it against the remaining T-34/76s.

So far, the plan seemed to be working, with their opponents seemingly content to sit back and bombard them. Pekoe wasn't sure if it was arrogance or if they'd been told not to press particularly hard, but as the saying went, one shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Still, enduring this sort of bombardment was not particularly pleasant, and there was always that small chance that a lucky shot might just find a weak spot.

"Orange Pekoe-san, we've nearly finished maneuvering into the best position we could get. Just keep them occupied a little longer. We can't afford to waste our first shot."

Pekoe bit back her first, instinctive response. No matter how cathartic it might have been, no true student of St. Gloriana's would ever stoop to using unladylike language, and certainly not to an ally. Still, a traitorous part of Pekoe's mind said that there was always a first time for anything.

"...Understood, Klara-san." Pekoe took another deep breath, if only to keep herself from dwelling on how near that last shot from the KV-2 had come to hitting them. Behind them, Irina's T-34/76 let off a shot in return, but it went totally wide, and yet another shot from the KV-2 came in reply.

Honestly, the KV-2's reloading time was absolutely ludicrous. It shouldn't be possible for it to keep up that rate of fire, but it was happening anyway. She'd pay good money to find out just what kind of training regimen Katyusha had her crews undergoing.

Finally, Klara's voice came over the radio once again, much to Pekoe's relief. "We're ready, Orange Pekoe-san."

Pekoe tapped the intercom. "That's our cue, Ruhuna-san. Start reversing, as if we're trying to get out of range."

Sure enough, as Pekoe and Irina began reversing away from the riverbank, the trees on the far side of the river parted, and a T-34/85 emerged, seemingly eager to finish off what seemed like retreating prey. Behind it, a large, blocky silhouette materialised. It was the KV-2.

"Ruhuna-san, bring us to a halt, please. Congou-san, it's time to start firing back in earnest. We need them to stay right where they are now."

The Cromwell came to a halt, and seconds later, Congou fired directly at the T-34/85 across the river. The shot flew true, but the armour of their target held firm, and a return shot immediately came their way. Still, the T-34's gunner was a worse shot than Congou, and it didn't even come close to hitting. A few more shots pinged off the Cromwell's armour, presumably from the remaining tanks still in the forest, but none of them were in any danger of penetrating. Still, it would be very nice if Klara were to do what she was supposed to and —

Pekoe's thoughts were cut short by the sound of a T-34/85's gun firing again, but this time in stereo from their side of the river. Both shots went straight into the KV-2's hull, knocking it out instantly. Realising its mistake, the opposing T-34/85 started to retreat back into the forest.

Pekoe bit her lip. If it managed to get back into cover, they'd have a very difficult time getting it out again. There was no way that their ploy would work a second time, after all. Suddenly, the sound of an unfamiliar engine being driven hard broke the silence. It was the Sherman, breaking out of cover and charging down to the riverbank.

Pekoe stared in mild disbelief. What was she doing? The answer soon came, as the Sherman began firing both its main gun and its machine gun at the retreating tank. Seemingly distracted, the T-34/85 halted and began swivelling its gun towards this new threat.

Just as Pekoe thought that the Sherman was finished, the T-34/85 was rocked with a sudden impact, and an explosion bloomed on the tank's turret. As the smoke cleared, Pekoe let out a small gasp as she saw the white flag deployed. Against all expectations, Klara had managed to take the opportunity given to her by Karen's charge, and landed an 85mm shell neatly in the side of the tank's turret.

After that, it was all over bar the shouting. Now that the main threats were dealt with, it was straightforward enough to cross the bridge and winkle out the three remaining T-34/76s, especially with Klara's and Natalia's tanks outmatching them easily. There was a brief scare when Karen's Sherman had charged ahead (again!) and nearly gotten ambushed, but Natalia's T-34/85 had successfully taken out the hidden T-34/76 after it had missed its first shot. All in all, it had been a surprisingly straightforward challenge, and Orange Pekoe was very happy for that.

Orange Pekoe leaned against the side of her tank, sipping slowly from a bottle of water. The race officials had earlier confirmed that they were free to head on whenever they wished, but she'd decided to take a little time to rest and check over the Cromwell. There was still plenty of time before dark, and the rest of her crew deserved a break after the efforts of the day. Congou and Ruhuna were both resting off in the shade, while Kangra had made friends with some of the Pravda girls and was chatting with them over by their tank.

The Sherman had left immediately after the all-clear was given. Pekoe wasn't sure what to think of the Sherman's commander, to be honest. On one hand, the girl was rude, abrasive, reckless, and seemingly here under protest. On the other, if it hadn't been for her distracting the T-34 at a crucial moment, they might not have pulled off the plan successfully. Still, nearly getting caught in that ambush and having to be saved probably balanced out the scales a bit.

The Pravda girls were even more opaque to her. They'd mostly kept to themselves, save Klara, who was chattier than her schoolmates. Still, Pekoe had no complaints. She'd known they were skilled, and this simply proved it. She and her crew would have to step up their game if they wanted to have a decent showing in the rest of the race, with competition like this. Klara in particular was someone to keep an eye on.

Speaking of which...

"Orange Pekoe-san. It was an honour to work together with you." As if she had been reading Pekoe's mind, the very person she had been thinking of had appeared.

Pekoe gave her a small bow. "And with you as well, Klara-san. You were very skilled."

A wide smile appeared on the blonde Russian's face. "Spasibo. We may be rivals for now, but there is no law saying that rivals cannot also be friends. After all, I came to Japan to broaden my horizons as well as to meet and learn from as many people as possible, and one can never have too many friends."

She held out her hand, then gave a wry smile upon seeing Pekoe's dubious look. "I know, I know, you are very Japanese, and very British besides, but still. Let us shake hands on this, shall we not? I would very much like to consider myself your friend, especially after witnessing your actions both on and off the battlefield."

Pekoe reached out and took Klara's hand. "I think I'd like that very much, Klara-san."

Klara laughed, a clear, ringing sound like that of a bell. "I am glad! Anyway, I will be leaving soon, and so, I shall wish you all the best with the remainder of the race. No matter the result, let us all celebrate once this is over."

"I look forward to it, Klara-san. Stay safe."

As Klara moved off, Pekoe finished off her water, then stretched herself, wincing as she heard a few pops from her back. It was time to head off once more. Two-thirds of the race was done, and now, the final stretch lay ahead.