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-- Lt. Col. Tanya von Degurechaff --

"Two per minute at most, Captain Meybert. Are you at all aware of the supply situation? You should be. I've explained it to you often enough. We simply cannot afford to spend our shells recklessly. Two a minute, and make them count."

He stifled a sigh, hand over the mouthpiece, before continuing, defeated.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Well, I had to let him have some fun. He wasn't a bad officer, really. He'd just learned his lessons on the Rhine, where the General Staff had deemed it a vital military priority to turn every hill into a crater. He'd adjust.

"Once we've won the air battle, I'll give you one minute of heavy bombardment in concert with the 203rd. Maximize peak volume of fire to send them running."

"Are you sure, Colonel? I know your boys are good, but it's got to be three to one up there."

I snorted.

"Exactly, Captain. An Imperial mage is worth five communist dogs."

Well, the average Imperial mage certainly wasn't. One and a half, maybe. My pack of killers, though? They'd grumble I'd stopped at five.

"As you say, Colonel."

I passed the handset back to the young Lieutenant I'd snatched it from and took a sip of my coffee. It was still hot, even. Ah, what a civilized way to fight a war! It wasn't quite the cushy General Staff post I wanted, but still. I'd make it through this battle without ever coming closer to violence than harsh language! Well, if I liked my promotion, I should demonstrate my diligence.

"Corporal Roth, what's the situation in the air?"

I'd been pretty happy to get an extra mage company at first. I didn't expect them to perform to my standards, of course, but more is better, right? That had changed once I actually got them in the air. Had they given up on training new recruits altogether? The first time I'd ordered them to shoot a target, they'd actually come to a stop first! Like their fondest wish was to kiss an AA shell! And to think: if I'd tried to stay out of the war, I'd have been conscripted sometime in the next year. And I knew for a fact most commanders didn't cosset useless mages like I did.

Needless to say, it had been a challenge to find productive things for them to do. I'd given Corporal Roth the noble duty of human radio, one of my better ideas. He listened in on the 203rd's communications and coordinated with the Lieutenant on the magic detector to put together a complete picture of the air battle. I should have asked the Lieutenant, properly speaking, but I wanted to give Roth a chance to grow. A bit immature, but he seemed to have a decent head on his shoulders. And he definitely didn't have any future in magic, so it'd be best if he hurried up and found another calling.

"It's going well, Colonel! Fourteen enemy magic signatures flat-lined, twelve confirmed killed."

I nodded, satisfied.

"And ours?" I threw out, perfunctory. I was already considering whether it was time to commit the tanks.

"Just one down, Ma'am!"

I spun back to him, scowling.

"What? Who?"

He froze up.

"Uh... I think it was Third Company... S- something?"

My scowl deepened.

"Sergeant Seidel, you mean?"

Damn! She'd been pretty good, for one of the post-Revolving Door recruits. We'd have to make sure--

"I don't think so, Ma'am."

What? Why had I put this idiot on communications, again? I spun up my own communication formula.

"Salamander Actual to Salamander 03. What's going on up there?"

"Colonel! We--"

"The hell are you doing on comms, Müller? Where's Serebryakov?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Ma'am! Lieutenant Serebryakov is down!"

I stopped, mystified.

"What?"

"Alive, I mean! Downed but alive! Possibly injured! We're looking--"

But I had dropped the formula to focus on my magic senses, already running, coffee spilling behind me.

It occurred to me that I shouldn't start spinning up my flight spell until I was a good ways away from the command tent, so as to not highlight its location to the enemy magic detectors. I did it anyway.

Where was she? There were a lot of magic signatures around, but not hers. Of course, sensing a mage on the ground from the ground isn't always easy. Stuff gets in the way. And if she's grounded, she might be limiting her output to avoid enemy detection. I focused hard on my flight formula, forcing extra manna into the pattern through main will, wasting more than half of it.

I finally lifted off, going for altitude first. I endured long seconds of gradually strengthening flight, getting buffeted by the air while my shell finished spinning up. But my attention was back on my magic senses. I still couldn't feel her. I felt third company, though. And I felt the mages they were fighting. The mages who were disrupting their search. Suddenly enraged, I shot right toward them, unlimbering my SMG and charging an artillery spell.

--

I inspected my A.S. Weapons MKMS forlornly. I remembered how beautiful and new it had been when I'd taken it in trade for my rifle. The bayonet, snapped off in a dead man's ribs, could be replaced. It hadn't come with a lug. That was a custom job, so it fit standard-issue bayonets. Really, I was more annoyed about the state of my uniform. He'd thought I'd back off when my shell broke, so now I was half covered in his blood. Of course, the fight hadn't ended there.

When I'd battered my way through the next man's shell with the barrel, I'd put a distinct bend in it. Could it be bent back? Maybe, but the strength of the metal was already compromised. How the hell was I going to get a replacement barrel for a Waldstätten prototype?

I sighed and dropped the piece of junk. The simple answer was that I wasn't, given the supply situation. I'd had to beg Logistics just to get enough socks.

No clue what got into the enemy today, but they just would not give it up. Those weren't rookies, either. Intelligence was adamant the Federation was sorely lacking in mages, and I had believed them. Despots like Dzhugashvili lived in constant fear of subjects capable of standing up for themselves and communists of course are ever fond of their purges. But half of these had been Albish, including that commander from the Queen of Anjou. Slippery bastard. What sort of man would desert his own homeland on the brink of invasion to help out the communists?

Well, eight more for the tally today. Maybe they'd learned their lesson this time? I wasn't holding my breath.

They'd called the general retreat when the mages broke, fortunately. I wasn't about to order a bombardment, but they didn't know that. We'd seen them off, picking off a couple more, then circled back around for the search. Still not a hint of Visha's magic signature. Well, I suppose they might be willing to bombard the area if they detected her, now that they'd cleared out. Good thinking, as usual. We'd have to--

"Colonel! Over here!"

Müller sounded pretty upset. I shot over towards him. Was it bad? Who had that certification in medical magic, again?

"Engel! Get ov--"

I caught sight of her. I shut up. I touched down much too quickly, like my reflex enhancement had been reversed.

I stared.

You know, I've seen a lot of bodies on the battlefield. Made a lot of them, too. I wouldn't call myself an expert, exactly, but my experience speaks for itself. She wasn't shot or stabbed. Had anyone even tried to kill her? She was trampled. That's all. The sort of thing that happens to old American ladies on Black Friday. Just a fucking accident.

I bent down and detached her orb. How many mages die with an intact orb? A top-of-the-line Type 97, just abandoned in the mud? Like it was worthless? If the leadership ever realized what their soldiers missed here there'd be executions left and right. They'd bring back decimation just for these dumb fucks.

One in ten? Just one in ten? How could that possibly be enough? All of them wouldn't be enough.

I activated the orb, searching through the recordings. There were a lot of them, and she hadn't organized them the way I did. I skimmed--

"Will you shut the fuck up?"

A few meters away, a wounded man just wouldn't stop moaning and groaning. Broken leg and gut wound? He was already dead, and the least he could do was act like it. I barely noticed that sort of thing anymore most of the time, but I was trying to concentrate.

He didn't shut up.

I marched over to him. Really, he should be thanking his lucky stars. He was just lying there, broken leg and all, and somehow he hadn't gotten fucking trampled.

I put my boot through his face, magic augmenting my wholly insufficient weight.

Hadn't gotten fucking trampled yet. I let out a little giggle.

I paused, feeling like I'd forgotten something. Oh. I double checked his uniform. Federation. Obviously he was Federation, or I wouldn't have done that. I turned away and got back to looking through the orb.

It took a while, but I eventually satisfied myself there wasn't anything from today. Well, why would there be? She was running out of space on the orb and she'd never really cared about her score.

So, what had downed her? Any of the mages could have if they'd gotten lucky enough. Well, no. Those jokers? It'd have had to have been several all at once. Even then... Really? I knew that wasn't impossible, but I couldn't believe it. All these years, all these battles, and they'd just ganged up on her? Like no one had ever tried that before?

Actually, there was nothing they hadn't tried before. She was simply better than them. So what the fuck am I looking at? Anti-air? Her shell was great. Better than mine, some days. They'd have had to have gotten lucky. Very lucky. Two-hits-in-a-row lucky. Still a more plausible answer than fucking communist mages, of all things.

I slipped the orb into a pocket. I'd run out of things to think about, so I just stared some more.

"Colonel?"

I blinked, then blinked again. Some of the blood had dribbled down into my eyes, it seemed. Still, I didn't look away.

"Yes, Major?"

"What now, Ma'am?"

I shook my head and turned to Weiss. Right. We'd need to get moving.

"Call the command tent. Tell them to gather the unit commanders. Meeting in ten to plan out the pursuit."

"... Pursuit, Ma'am?" He paused, apparently hoping he wouldn't have to spell it out. I just looked at him. He continued after a couple false starts. "Aren't our orders to hold this area?"

"Your orders are to ready for pursuit."

"Yes, Ma'am."

I prepared to fly back, not looking-- I looked. And saw Müller and Pohl stooping over her.

"And what do you think you're doing?" my voice cracked out.

They froze, then turned slowly to look at me.

"Gathering the Lieutenant's body, Ma'am. So she can be returned to her family for burial."

To her family? To the useless fucks who couldn't keep their teenage daughter out of a world war? And now they wanted her back? How dare they! If she'd died in her second week on the Rhine, maybe then they could have buried her, enjoyed the proceeds of their own failure. If she'd survived these last three years, what did that have to do with them? And if she was dead now… what did that have to do with them, either? Still, I hesitated. The thought of just leaving her here was suddenly intolerable.

"You may gather her body, Corporals, but she will not be buried. We will build Lieutenant Serebryakov a pyre. Something suitably grand, I think."

All of them wouldn't be enough? It'd be a start.

A\N: How could Roth have missed that Visha was down when the 203rd was actively discussing it? He fumbled the connection like ten minutes ago and has been desperately trying to get it working again ever since. He's actually bad at magic, not just bad by Tanya's standards. The Empire is desperate for mages by this point, unfortunately.

So, he just went by what he could see on the detector, trying to remember which signature goes with which mage. (The machine doesn't label them for you, it's WWI tech.) He is very, very lucky Tanya isn't thinking clearly at the moment.