AN: A late Christmas present for everybody.

I'd like to preface this by saying I have not read the books (notably, fanlators can't get past vol 3, which is also where Season 1 ends, because they're now licensed and so we have to wait a while for the official English translations), and only portions of the manga. I have no idea what happens after Season 1, since Season 2 is still stuck in production or something. As such, I have no idea how things work out in the long run, and will only be writing things based on how I think they'd work out given what I've seen of Tanya so far. Because of my current situation, I'd also like to request a minimalization of YS spoilers. Yes, I am spoilerphobic.

As for how Mary fits in, I'm working on it. Figured they'd be built to contrast each other in the first place, and I'll be focusing on that aspect for sure.

Disclaimer: Youjo Senki is the property of Being X, and Hiromu Arakawa is the one True author of FMA.


VII. SNAPBACK

COMMANDER'S OFFICE, NORTHERN COMMAND, 5 APRIL, 1918

There is a common misconception that it's always snowy here up north. It's not always snowy, so much as it is only mostly snowy. The ice melts away for a short time in the summer months, producing a brief 45-day reprieve from the harsh northern climate. I mean, it only gets to six degrees Celsius, but at least it's above zero. That being said, summer was two months away, and so this place would remain covered in snow for a while longer.

I lazily kept my gaze on the snow falling outside the window behind the commanding officer, looking through him rather than at him. Not that he'd be able to tell the difference. The blonde, square-jawed pencil pusher was busy reading my recommendation letter from Central Command.

Maybe I should explain what I was doing here in the first place. Remember that night I passed the State Alchemist exam, and found Edward Elric's notes? Remember how they were encrypted as travelogues, making use of elements from everywhere that he happened to travel? Well, I've spent the last eight months or so running around and learning about the various places and cultures in this country, essentially following in his footsteps.

Not exactly what I had in mind when I decided I'd become a State Alchemist. Granted, I only spent half of that time doing so, and the other half working on various research programs, initiatives, and personal projects that I could use for my reassessment this year. Regardless, my objective for this trip to the North was to take in what Edward saw. According to his logs, he spent some time in Fort Briggs, before going around the Northern Sector in general.

This means, of course, that I'd have to go to that frozen hellhole. Fort Briggs was the Ultimate Shield, the Amestrian bulwark against the vaguely Slav-like Drachman Empire. Built across the Briggs Valley, the only gap in the vast Northern Mountain Range – a natural wall that separated Amestris and Drachma – Fort Briggs is an artificial wall, loaded with guns, and manned by soldiers that would make the Spartans green with envy. After all, they only held the hot gates for three days, while Briggs has stood for decades.

In fact, a few years ago, they annihilated three entire Drachman divisions in under an hour. The sheer embarrassment from that defeat must have gotten on the Tsar's nerve, since no further action was pursued, and the whole incident was quietly swept under the rug. I wouldn't blame him for trying to blot out that gigantic shame. It's bad for PR, and bad for his reputation.

"So according to this, Brigadier General Zettour says you're here for an… inspection of Briggs' anti-air capabilities?" Lieutenant General Hakuro raised an eyebrow as he looked between me and the letter. "Is he aware that we just had another State Alchemist review their entire defense grid last month, including AA?"

I coughed just as I was about to take a sip from the complementary coffee. "I'm sorry…?"

"Major Degurechaff, I'm starting to wonder if Central Command's right hand even knows what its left is doing." A strongly-built man, Hakuro's standing up blocked out the entire lower half of his window, casting a shadow over me. He turned around and walked over to the glass pane, staring at the snow outside. "Last month, another State Alchemist showed up. She had a recommendation letter from Brigadier General Rudersdorf informing me that she was here to go up to Briggs and inspect the totality of its defense grid. I can only imagine such an error of redundancy would not have come to pass under Führer Bradley's administration."

Oh great. He's a Bradley fan. And from how he sounds, he's about to go into one of those 'back in my day' rants, for that bygone golden age when Bradley ran things. Not that I disagree that Bradley was a charismatic war hero, but his hawkish policies did more long-term damage to the economy than good. Got to cut him off before he wastes even more of my time! "Well Sir, I'd like to point out that we State Alchemists each have our own specializations. It sounds to me like whoever came here last month specializes more in general defensive alchemy and tactics. I'm here because my field revolves around aerial doctrine and that alone."

That seemed to get Hakuro's attention. The general didn't launch into the rant that I'd feared, instead remaining quiet about it. "You know, Major, we never really had much in the matter of air power until a couple years back. Even then, we've only implemented countermeasures, rather than taking offense into consideration. Intelligence reports tell us that our neighbors are so far behind they haven't even figured out how to make an airship nimble enough to avoid a volley from regular artillery pieces. I wonder if focusing on the skies isn't giving them a little too much credit."

Was this guy serious? That's not how you secure supremacy in war! You don't sit on your laurels polishing your guns while you wait for the enemy to catch up! You do so by being proactive. You continue to develop. To innovate. And in doing so, widen the gap between you and your enemies until you've left them completely in the dust! That's why it's called an arms race. The further ahead you are, the closer you are to winning! "With all due respect, Sir, I think that the time for air power is now. If we can shore ourselves up against future air developments, we can continue to outpace everybody else and ensure that when they eventually do start flying, we will have aircraft and defenses advanced enough to shoot them down with impunity."

Hakuro only scoffed. "You really are an alchemist, aren't you, Major?"

The hell is that supposed to mean?

"Yes, that kind of forward thinking isn't unusual for alchemists in the State's employ," he turned around to face me, slowly walking back to his desk. "Always keeping their sight on what lies ahead, rather than the here and now. You remind me a lot of a State Alchemist I used to work with."

Oh, I get it. Yes, Brigadier General Zettour warned me this guy would be potentially uncooperative. It all started when he was a Major General serving in New Optain, something of a secondary capital for the Eastern Sector. During his time there, he apparently boiled some bad blood with then-Colonel Mustang. Everybody in the military knew that Mustang was something of a glory hound, but Hakuro in particular heavily resented the fact that he was in the good graces of the Eastern Commander, then-Lieutenant General Grumman, who he believed to be aiding in the Colonel's meteoric rise.

Bradley's death, Grumman's succession to the Fuhrership, and the subsequent promotion of Mustang to the position of Eastern Commander, all in quick succession, were apparently too much for him to bear, and so he requested a transfer to a different sector entirely. Talk about butthurt. While he was given a complimentary promotion to go with the reassignment, likely as a sign of goodwill, the only post available was that of the recently-vacated Northern Commander, who at the time had just been arrested after his part in the conspiracy was discovered.

I imagine the cold climate hasn't been kind to him these past few years, nor the fact that he's now forced to regularly deal with the Ice Queen of Briggs. If anything, I imagine this has only spurred on his hatred for Grumman's administration… As a result, he's gained infamy for becoming something of an obstructionist to Central Command's whims since arriving here. So what does this have to do with me? It's really simple. Grumman gave me my certification. Therefore, to him, I'm one of Grumman's pawns. Ergo, he extends this hatred and obstructionism to me.

"Tell me, Major," he sat back down in his seat and poured himself a coffee. "Once your ideas for developing our air power take root, what do you intend to do with such fertile ground?"

"I intend to voice my opinion with Central, Sir," I poured some milk into my own coffee and took a sip. "To influence the direction it might be headed, hopefully in the creation of an air force." Hakuro's activities have done nothing to ingratiate him to Central Command. There's no way his obstructionist malarkey is going to be heard over my own expertise. So it doesn't matter what I tell him.

"And when the State spends the people's precious tax cenz on creating an entirely new branch of the military, do you plan to take charge of it?"

It took all of my willpower to hold back the urge to break out laughing. The rank hypocrisy was astounding. Here was a career officer, someone who practically lives on nothing but tax cenz for doing an administrative job that any desk jockey general can apply for, implying that my plan was going to be a waste of tax money? Ah, if only I could tell him to his face how he was nothing but a replaceable cog in a machine… That if he dropped dead right now, Central would just send someone to pick up after him… He was nothing compared to my plan. A dedicated air force would secure Amestris' hegemony over the continent as the world's first true air power. The resulting aircraft industry would create more jobs, allow entrepreneurs to open up new businesses, and positively affect us in so many ways…

That is money well invested. Not spent.

"I am a scientist, Sir. Not a general. I leave the leadership to those who specialize in it. As its primary proponent, however, I fully intend to serve in an advisory capacity." This is true. The last thing I want is to turn this into a career. That grant I'm receiving right now is capital. Capital that I've been investing wisely. The smallest percentage to cover my living expenses. A majority used in my alchemic pursuits. Everything from R&D, to experimentation, to travel and lodging costs as I search for ciphers to crack Edward Elric's notes. Finally, a minority, about ten percent, is allotted to discretionary income.

Don't get me wrong though. Ten percent of a State Alchemist's monthly stipend is a hefty sum. This past year, I've already been able to buy some property in Duazil, a growing town in the southwest of the Central Sector that's starting to build up its industrial base. I'll probably set up an apartment building there to house workers, developing a simple real estate "pipeline" as a start before moving on to more profitable projects.

When normal people think about real estate, they usually approach it with a flipping mentality: buy a property for cheap, invest some time, money, and effort to fancy it up, then sell it for a higher price. That's great for a quick buck, but what happens when your profit runs out? It's off to getting another place and flipping it. That takes work.

When financially literate people think of real estate, they approach it with a mentality of continuous income. Let's put it in the context of Monopoly. When you buy a property, you can only sell it for half price. Flipping isn't a thing. The best way to profit from your land is to develop it. Build four green houses, upgrade to a big red hotel, and then squeeze the competition out of their money with rent. Not once, not twice, but every single time they land on it. Flipping is once. Rent is monthly.

Now see, had Tucker been financially literate, he would have done the smart thing and invested a fraction of his grants into some sort of asset system. Then he wouldn't have had to worry about losing his income, and then resorting to fraud just to get his State License renewed. He could have been a happy man, practicing alchemy in the private sector, keeping his fancy mansion, and enjoying his spare time with his wife, kid, and dog. I still get the occasional urge to shake my head about how despicable he was. This silver pocket watch is a symbol of excellence among the excellent, achievement among achievers, hard work, sweat, blood, time, and tears. How dare he defile it with fraud! No wonder most people think of State Alchemists as sellouts.

"Are you sure you're not both?" Hakuro raised an eyebrow. "Other State Alchemists have gotten pretty far with-"

A comms officer burst into the room, holding a piece of paper in his hand. Given his disregard for protocol, I immediately assumed that this was urgent. "Sir! Briggs just wired us a report! Drachma is attacking!"

"Any details, Captain?" I couldn't help but notice a slight hint of excitement in the Lieutenant General's voice. Well, if Bradley was a warmonger, and this guy's a Bradley fan, then it only stands to reason that he's… eager… for renewed conflict. What a mess…

The officer held the paper up, presumably to read any details he missed. I'm guessing as soon as he saw the words 'Drachma' and 'attack' earlier, he bolted straight here without reading the rest of it. "Heavily armed airship."

Oh, great. So now I have to wait here until we get further news from up there. Which also means I'm going to have to put up with more of General Hakuro's nonsense. I sighed in annoyance. Well… at least I'm not the center of attention for now. And hey, things could get worse. I could've arrived two days earlier if my train didn't get snowed in at Zowuy. Even given this obstructionism, I would've definitely gotten to Briggs this morning at the latest… and I could be getting shelled at by Drachmans this very second.

Gotta count these fortuitous moments, honestly. Being X has been relentless as of late with bad coincidences.

I have to admit though… the thought of an… air battleship, I guess is one way to put that… intrigues me. Nope. Shouldn't jinx this. Not going to say anything about that.

"Understood. Forward this to Central. We'll wait for further instructions."

"Sir!" The captain saluted and rushed off.

"I'm guessing you're sitting on your hands because presumably, Briggs has this covered?" But let's be honest. He's just here to make life as hard as possible for all of Grumman's associates. Major General Armstrong was hailed as a great hero, one of several who led loyalist efforts to crush the conspiracy. She essentially threw herself in with Grumman when her Briggs forces fought alongside his Eastern Command forces. Rumor has it that she intends to fight Mustang for the top spot once Grumman retires.

Hakuro could easily pay lip service to Briggs' status as the Ultimate Shield and use it as an excuse to not send reinforcements, and let them take the brunt of the Drachman attack. Sure, they annihilated a corps-sized unit with impunity some years ago. But I'm pretty sure this is the first time they've ever encountered any sort of air power in the region. They might be hardened defenders, but first contact is bound to yield higher casualties regardless.

"That's right," Heh. He even managed to put up a really convincing act of solemnity. And then, I saw it… the slight glint in his eye. "Major… you said you wanted to inspect their AA, yes?"

"That's what I'm here for," I nodded.

Hakuro stood up and held up his palms as if to receive some falling blessings from the sky. "Wouldn't you agree that there's no better way to assess its performance than a live engagement?"

"I respectfully disagree, Sir." Ah crap. Now he's got me. I'm going to have to go into his camp and get in bed with his obstructionism now? "A live engagement is far too chaotic to properly assess the batteries' performance." Not to mention I'd be too preoccupied with not getting shot. "Even if I did have the acumen to do so, it would take two days to get from here to Briggs on a halftrack. Considering their track record, the battle would be long over."

"Come now, Major!" Hakuro took a sip from his coffee. "If there's anything that spreads around the country faster than a wildfire, it's news of alchemists being thou for the people! Don't think I haven't heard about the exploits of the Sylphid Alchemist. I know that you don't just fly. You fly fast. The 55 kilometer trip from here to Briggs would take you less than half an hour. Isn't this what you wanted?" The general picked up a rubber stamp from his desk and pushed it hard into my recommendation letter, embedding its mark in the paper. Quickly signing it with his pen, he then stepped out from behind his desk, walked over, and handed it to me. "Here you go! Now go on and inspect their AA batteries in action."

"Well I uh…" I bowed down to focus on my coffee as my face started to twist into a snarl. Didn't want him to see that. "Is that an order, Sir?"

"General Zettour's letter says your inspection is of the highest priority," he shrugged. "I'm just implementing his recommendation."

A defeated sigh escaped my lips. In the end, he's still a general… more importantly, I got seriously hoist by my own petard here… "Permission to finish my coffee before departing, Sir?" The least I could do was just get a little time to process this… I was going to fly into a battlefield. The literal front lines. The very thing I swore I'd do everything to prevent. And yet now…

"Permission granted, Major." I could almost hear his smug confidence… hear each drop as it oozed from his voice and fell to the floor. "You have five minutes. Don't want it to get cold. Wouldn't want to miss that engagement either, would we?"

"Yes, Sir…" Damn you, Being X! Damn you to whatever hell you made!

~O~O~O~

AMESTRIAN AIRSPACE, 10 KM SOUTH OF FORT BRIGGS, ALTITUDE: 3000 METERS

Up to an altitude of 3,200 meters, the amount of oxygen in the atmosphere is more or less identical to that at sea level. The difference lies in air pressure, which is about 30 percent lower. Why is this important? Air pressure plays a vital role in pushing air molecules from the inside of your lungs into the bloodstream. Lower air pressure means less air gets into your blood, causing your heart to exert more effort to get more air in less time. And everybody knows that high blood pressure is a bad thing. This is just one of many significantly detrimental effects of oxygen starvation. Worse symptoms include nausea, headaches, and getting high. And nobody wants to be high in the middle of a dogfight.

Acclimatization to high altitudes is possible with mountain training, and your body will end up with a superior fitness level for it. But once you move back down to sea level, your body will go back to its usual state in a matter of weeks. So training high in the mountains works for say, preparation for a stint at the Olympics, but not for a career that requires you to fly for long. And no, I'd rather not live in the mountains.

So what's the solution? Back on Earth, aircraft manufacturers developed high altitude oxygen delivery systems. You know, those oxygen masks that flight attendants always tell you to get ready to wear during a flight emergency? Which I'm sure we'll need to do here as well. But for now, my personal solution is in my transmutation processing: that virtual air tube connecting my respiratory system to the air outside my helium bubble is also set to increase the air pressure to sea level… More or less the same as an aircraft oxygen mask!

I've never really gotten the chance to go much higher than my current altitude, but if I'm going to help develop airplanes, I'm going to have to push the envelope and see just how high I can fly. My primary limitation, of course, is how far up I can go before my continuous transmutations can no longer tap into the geothermal energy radiating from the ground. Once I've figured this out, then I can set safety precautions for myself…

The sky was mostly clear today, which was something to be thankful for. Were it the usual dark and dreary weather here up north, the only clue I'd have that I was approaching my destination would be the peaks of the Northern Mountain Range jutting out above the low-lying clouds. As things were right now, though, I could see the rapidly approaching wall of Fort Briggs. A marvel of Amestrian engineering, it might as well serve as a dam were a river flowing through the valley. Of course at this latitude, any rivers would be forever frozen, so damming it up would be a moot idea.

No. It was a wall not to hold back water, but to keep invaders out. Totally different requirements.

And there, floating ominously near that wall, was what would definitely fit the idea of an air battleship. Or um… battle airship? Regardless, it was like someone slapped an upside-down battleship onto an oversized dirigible and bolted it in place. Two main turrets, triple-barreled, and packing high calibres. I couldn't tell from this distance, but those guns were big. Let's say like... 40cm battleship guns? Maybe? Honestly, the only way we'd be able to find out was if we shot it down and hauled the guns back for analysis. One turret hung beneath the section of the superstructure housing what I guessed to be the bridge, while the other did so from underneath an even bulkier structure of some sort behind that. The balloon itself was painted with a cliché angry shark face that in the modern era, would probably just make people laugh.

Exploding all around it, various shells. I'd recognize the report of those AA batteries anywhere. Not just the batteries. Other types of shells as well as autocannons. They were throwing everything they had at it. The problem was, they weren't hitting. How could they keep missing like this? It was practically on top of them!

Hang on…

Was I seeing things, or was there debris flying around…? I grabbed the binoculars slung around my neck and brought them up to bear. No. No, no, no. This wasn't happening. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, and opened them again. No. They were still there. Definitely not a hallucination. From this distance, they seemed like mosquitoes buzzing the fortress and the vicinity of the airship, but there was no mistaking that they were soldiers. Flying soldiers. Probably through some mechanical means. Drachma doesn't have alchemy. Only Creta does, due to previous trade agreements. For Aureugo, alchemy is only starting to filter in thanks to a ceasefire after an extensive series of conflicts. Drachma has always been on the exclusion list. So they can't be using alchemy.

For now, I'll assume they're using, for lack of a better term, 'jetpacks'. At least until I see them up close. Then I'll know for sure.

So they weren't missing the airship. They were just concentrating on these jetpackers. While the AA grid and weapons were designed before I gained my certification, the past year had me making recommendations to the armory based on my future knowledge. Instead of just focusing on airships, I told them, they should also design smaller caliber guns for use against… well I didn't call them airplanes. But rather, 'theoretical high-mobility aircraft'. People though. Their level of nimbleness went beyond my suggested specifications. They were missing these guys.

But why weren't they pointing the bigger guns at the airship… why all at the jetpacks?

As I continued to close in, I started to sweat. A beating in my chest grew until it felt like it would burst. Adrenaline was starting to circulate in my system preparing for a fight or flight response. This will be my first actual engagement. Sure, I did my time. Sixteen weeks through the Basic Engineer Officer Course. If I wanted to gain enough respect to influence the emergent air doctrine, I'd have to get into the hierarchy. I'd have to know their language, understand their culture, think their thoughts.

At the same time, this choice of course made it clear that I had no intention of going out to the front. I was a researcher primarily, here to earn my chops and find the means to apply them in a way that would be useful to the State Military as a whole, rather than to a single engineering unit.

Therein lay the problem for me. BEOC was a specialist school that took in commissioned officers to train in the engineering fields, and those alone. In the State Military, officer candidates are required to go through basic combat training. As such, going into BEOC, they would already know how to fight, allowing them to specialize. Having received my commission as part of my certification as a State Alchemist, rather than from Officer Selection School, however, I skipped that part entirely. Oh sure, they put us through live fire exercises for minesweeping, sapping, bridge building and the like, but nothing too direct…

So do I fight or flee? Hakuro would no doubt report the exact moment of my departure, and knowing my records, I'd be court martialed for going AWOL if I don't get there in the next few minutes. If that happens, I could lose my certification. It's too soon! No, there's no doubt about it. I have to report to Briggs, firefight be damned. Maybe they'll let me take cover inside the fort? I'm just an engineer, I have no combat experience or training… I'd only get in their way.

The challenge with that was that State Alchemists had a reputation thanks to Ishval. Human weapons who reduced the revolting country to nothing more than a mere footnote in Amestris' long list of conquests. Which means there's a big chance that General Armstrong would send me to fight.

That gives me three options here… One, report to Briggs and try my luck at getting them to shelter me. The odds of that happening are really bad for the reasons stated above. Two, I report to Briggs and volunteer to help. Maybe if I'm lucky, the reverse psychology would work and they'll assign me to some rear echelon support work. I could make transporting ammo from the armoury a snap, for example. At the same time, I'll be able to do my job and inspect the batteries up close. Three… I take the Drachmans by surprise and jump straight into the fight.

It's the most reckless sounding choice. On the one hand, I'm an aerodynamics alchemist. I specialize in the air. This battle is right in my element, combat experience be damned. They might have jetpacks, but I could probably think of a dozen ways to take them down even without a gun. And, it'll look good on my resume. On the other hand, they can most definitely kill me with ease if I'm not careful. Best case scenario is that I walk out of there with minor injuries. Worst case scenario is Briggs mistakes me for a flanking Drachman and shoots me down with friendly fire.

That's obviously not a good idea.

Second option it is, then. Better get there fast. I clapped my hands, prompting a transmutation that accelerated me to double my current flight velocity. As I closed in on the wall, its scale became far more apparent, rising from the bottom of the valley up to two thirds of the flanking mountains, a modern Great Wall.

Guns of every shape and size kept up their withering barrage in a desperate attempt to shoot down as many of those jetpackers as possible. From what I could tell, they were meeting with little success. Therein lay two questions. Again, why wasn't Briggs trying to take down the air battleship? Just as importantly, why didn't the air battleship open fire with its main battery? There was no way it could miss at this range.

My train of thought broke when what could only be described as the sound of a loud, angry bumblebee buzzed over my head.

What?

Another zipped just beneath me, missing by inches.

Crap.

They were shooting at me. I mean, this wasn't completely unexpected, but there's a big difference between thinking it was going to happen, and actually experiencing it. The fact that they almost hit me also meant they were getting good at triangulating my position.

The next round could very well be a direct hit. I clapped my hands, switching my formulae from high speed to evasive maneuvers. While I slowed down, I could easily dodge the incoming fire, swooping down, up, rolling… All while keeping my eye on the main entrance at the center of the fortress' base. Sure, it was also fortified, but if I could just get someone to see me up close…

This is what uniforms were made for, dammit! For battlefield recognition! That being said, it's impossible to see blue at this distance. Hell, the people down at the entrance were just specks to me. Of course they'd shoot at someone who was flying in at high speeds!

Flak exploded to my left, forcing me to dive away.

What about binoculars? Weren't they using any? And weren't they thinking that maybe, just maybe, the fact that I was flying in from the south meant that I was on their side? What's going on here?

I closed in, the fortifications at the main gate becoming more visible to the naked eye. In a few more seconds, I'll be there…

I clapped my hands as I reached the space just before the gate, altering my trajectory for a sudden rapid descent. Dropping like a meteor into the frozen road with enough force to blast a crater into the ice-encrusted asphalt. Talk about a superhero landing.

No time to relax, as the fire kept coming. Clapped one last time to erect an ultra-high pressure air wall to catch their bullets in midflight, at least until the dust could settle. As the mass of ammunition blocked them from view and the smoke began to clear, I reached into my pocket and drew my watch out, holding it up for what would be a comfortable view, as soon as they stopped firing. "Cease fire!" I yelled. "Cease fire, I'm a friendly!"

Note to self: request a radio kit so I can call people and let them know I'm on the way.

The shooting stopped, and I clapped to end the transmutation. The ammo dropped into a large pile at my feet, revealing at least a platoon-sized formation with its guns trained on me. I pointed at the silver pocket watch I was holding up in the air. "Please tell me you know what this is."

"Yep, that's the real deal, alright!" A gruff voice came out from behind the firing line. "Stand down, boys! There's no way anyone's stealing a State Alchemist's pocketwatch… even if she is kinda scrawny."

"Hey!" My annoyed retort did little to reduce my blatant gratitude. Immediately after, I took a moment to sigh in relief as the soldiers lowered their guns and stood aside, revealing an officer who stepped out from between them. He was tall and square-jawed, broad-faced. Swept-back brown hair with a couple of stray bangs emphasizing his prominently large nose. Every last bit what you would expect of someone stationed at a place with Briggs' reputation.

"No offense meant, Ma'am," he laughed before snapping to a salute. "Sorry if the welcome was a bit rough. We weren't expecting any backup and figured you were Drachman, like the other flyers. First Lieutenant Henschel."

"Major Tanya Degurechaff," I returned aforementioned salute before handing over the letter. "Sylphid Alchemist. I'm here under orders from General Zettour to inspect your Anti-Air batteries," I took this time to dust myself off from the landing. It wasn't exactly the cleanest I've made.

Lieutenant Henschel quickly browsed the letter, his eyes settling on the two seals stamped into the bottom area, signed by both General Zettour and General Hakuro. "I'm not sure if you've noticed, Ma'am, but this ain't exactly the best time to be inspecting the guns. We got us a little… bug problem."

"I figured," I nodded, squinting up momentarily at the 'mosquitoes' that buzzed the top of the fort. "Tell you what. I specialize in Aerial Alchemy. Maybe I can help you guys out somehow." Like, I dunno, levitating the ammo up from the armouries to the guns? That sounds relatively safe, right? "Then I can inspect the batteries after we win."

Hah. What a cocksure answer. Then again, this is Briggs. Nobody has broken through this wall since it was first built. They'll figure something out. Maybe…

"In that case, I'll take you to the General's adjutant, Major Falman," Henschel handed the letter back to me and waited until I'd put it away. "If anyone knows what the General's got up her sleeve, it's him." He turned around and after putting one of his subordinates in charge of security, motioned for me to follow. "This way, Ma'am."

"Lead on, Lieutenant." He ran. I followed. It was only understandable, of course. A State Alchemist was a crucial asset, and we were in the middle of a fight. Every second was precious.

"Oh, and Ma'am?" Still not losing his rhythm, the Lieutenant turned his head aside so I could see his face.

"Yes?"

"You might wanna mind the ice." With this warning, he led the way, and we disappeared into the cavernous entrance to the fort…

~O~O~O~

ALPHONSE'S OFFICE, CENTRAL COMMAND, 17 APRIL, 1917

Alphonse stared dumbfounded at the small stack of papers I'd deposited on his desk. I wasn't sure if he was surprised I had all this already prepared and waiting in the wings, that someone my age had written something so comprehensive, or that I'd decided to report in to work the very next day after I'd gotten my certification.

I mean, it was Tuesday. That's a weekday, and therefore, a day of work. It's only proper etiquette to report to work as soon as you've gone through onboarding. That being said, had he not informed me last night that he would be my direct superior, I would've spent the whole of today getting to know who my boss was.

I struggled to hold back a grin as he slowly went through my proposal. "This is…" His eyebrows furrowed as he went over my writing. "I don't know how you came up with this assessment, but…"

"Well, Sir, if I have to be frank, alchemy books aren't the only things I read." I had a particularly eclectic field of interests back in my past life. Economics and history were just two of them. And history has a lot of lessons to teach.

"Yes, but the way you talk about the potential effects of air power…" Alphonse ran his free hand through his hair, a subconscious sign that he was telling himself to get a grip. "The level of detail. It seems almost prophetic."

"I beg your pardon, Sir?" Let's be honest. What kind of nine-year-old kid would write such a comprehensive report? Of course, the answer would be, 'nobody I know'.

"Anybody can share their opinions of a given subject," he started. "But this doesn't look like someone sharing an opinion. There's so much substance in this. Not just substance, but substance that all makes sense, even if it seems counterintuitive. It's as if you've seen a future where air power is commonplace." Alphonse set the report down and looked me straight in the eye. For the first time, I saw his expression harden into sternness. "Tanya…" His eyes narrowed. "Have you seen the Truth?"

My almost-grin disappeared as confusion took over my face instead. "… the Truth, Sir?" What the hell is that supposed to be? I don't think I've come upon anything like that in any of my readings.

Alphonse stared at me, the intensity of his gaze as he probed my face, perhaps for dishonesty or secrecy, causing me to slightly sweat in discomfort. Pedophile jokes aside – and I'm still not 100% sure he isn't one – this was a very awkward experience.

I waited, staring back as I tried to scrounge up a poker face. It went on for maybe half a minute before his seriousness evaporated with a sigh of relief. "It's nothing, forget I asked." Just like that, he went back to his usual chipper self as he resumed going through my report. "Now, this report looks fairly convincing."

Of course it does.

"However, if you're going to push for the creation of an 'air force', as your report suggests," Alphonse rubbed his chin, as if he were trying to find the words to say, "You're going to need a formal place in the military."

Once again, confusion. "But Sir, I thought I was already a part of the military."

"On a technicality," he clarified. "The rank of Major is more of a privileged position. You aren't required to wear the uniform, either." For a moment, his expression turned wistful. "I know my Brother didn't."

So the fact that Alphonse wore the uniform and was clearly integrated into the military hierarchy meant that he had taken an extra step beyond what his brother had done. It also meant that he had something he wanted done that required military influence. "So in order to get the military to hear my thoughts, I have to actually sign up."

"Correct."

Well, I'd already read up on the various training schools in the military, and based on certain… loopholes, I could probably skip basic training in one of many ways thanks to my certification. That being said, those ways were theoretical, and it was better to ask someone with actual experience. "If I may ask, Sir, how did you go about getting yourself in?"

"Simple enough," Alphonse smiled as he answered. "I went to Officer Selection School."

"But isn't that redundant?" I asked. A major going through a school where he would graduate as a second lieutenant. To be fair, OSS taught you all the basics.

"That's true," he nodded and went on. "And if we're talking about technicalities, you can actually just skip OSS and sign up for a specialization course you find appropriate."

"Like BEOC?"

"Engineering would definitely make sense if you were getting down to the nuts and bolts of aircraft development," Alphonse paused, deep in thought. "But you're going to have to go through other courses to deal with the top-down organizational aspects of your proposal… though I'll be the first to admit, it seems you already have a working knowledge of the latter."

At the end of the day, the military was an organization in the same way a corporation was an organization. I've already done my time learning the ins and outs of organizing a large body of people. And while there were some differences, hopefully I can navigate my way around them with my experience. "So then…"

"Yes, I think I can put in a recommendation for you to get into BEOC." He drew a blank sheet of paper from his desk drawer, rolled it into his typewriter, and started hammering away at the keys. "There isn't any official requirement for one to go through OSS first. All you need is a commission. As long as you're sure that you can get by with your informal knowledge."

I briefly wondered if it would ever get to a point that Alphonse would stop getting surprised at the things I knew about. "Oh, don't worry about that, Sir. I think I've got it covered."

Alphonse continued typing away. "If your report is anything to go by, I'd say you're right."

"I don't mean to pry, Sir, but what is it you want to influence in the military?"

"Hmm?"

"The whole point of your getting me to sign up is because I want to influence the greater scheme of things in the military," I clarified. "Is that also why you fully integrated, Sir? Something you wanted to do?"

The tick tacks of the typewriter abruptly stopped as Alphonse looked at me. "It's simple, really." He took a moment to recline into his chair. "A while back, I went on a trip to Xing, to learn their various Alkahestry styles. Along the way, I picked up on a lot of their culture, and realized it would be great if we had a cultural exchange."

So it's more about May, then. "Does that mean you're helping out this guy…" I whipped up one of the flyers I saw at Central University yesterday and read it again. "General Mustang? It says he's in charge of improving our relations with Xing."

Alphonse nodded. "That's right. I might do research into metallurgical alchemy for the military, but at the same time, I'm assisting General Mustang with his Xingese program. Our bigger goals aren't restricted to things related to our alchemy. Half of the time, I'm wearing my alchemy hat, while the other half of the time, I'm wearing my diplomatic one. Not a bad deal, huh?" He resumed typing.

I smiled. "You got that right. We aren't pinned down by certain expectations."

"You know, when May told me you wanted to get a certification to serve the country, I wasn't sure what you had in mind." It was somewhat difficult to hear what he was saying over the noise of the typewriter, but I could make it out with some effort. "And seeing your proposal now, I think you have some real foresight here. But I still don't know what end you're trying to achieve. What happens once we've established ourselves as the dominant air power?"

"Then we'll have nothing to fear from the outside," I said. "A wise statesman once said, 'If we desire to avoid insult, we must be able to repel it; if we desire to secure peace, one of the most powerful instruments of our rising prosperity, it must be known that we are at all times ready for war.'" Reagan? No, that was Washington. More importantly, however, the principle of peace through power goes all the way back to ancient Rome itself. It transcends America. That being said, I don't advocate flying around the world to police it. I do advocate being capable of flying around the world to bomb anybody who dares bomb us. It's only fair. We're just busy minding our own business, after all.

"That's a very…" Alphonse's eyes narrowed. "Strong… position." He went silent, broken by the report of typewriter keys. Alphonse? A peacenik ideologue in the military? Well that's just hilarious. Though I suppose he doesn't have a choice. The government is effectively a military junta. The Head of State is called the Führer, of all things. He had to sign up to get his cultural exchange program underway.

"I mean, it's not like I want to go out and shoot people for no reason like the last Führer," I pointed out. "I just want us to be ready in case diplomacy fails and people start shooting at us. I know our history. I've lived it. The Letoist bombings in East City almost killed me. The last thing I want is our bombs killing orphans in some neighboring country. So if we can deter them from attacking, if we can back our diplomatic words with superior weapons, then we can have peace."

"I do hope you're right, Tanya," Alphonse finished typing his letter, rolling it out for a quick stamp and sign. "For all our sakes."

That same day, I was admitted to BEOC, and began four months of training in military engineering.


AN: This one got a lot of stuff mucked up in the first couple of drafts. A shoutout to my beta reader Clownpiece for pointing out the problems in this chapter. Happy Holidays, everyone!