Engines purring and changing RPM. Tracks clanking and creaking against return skids and rollers. Turret hydraulics whining as gunners searched for targets. Loose hatches rattling on their hinges. The radio static over the headset. All of these were noises that Ayame was used to hearing in her M7. They were noises that were familiar and comforting. To most people, tanks might not be comfortable, but to Ayame, they were great armored boxes of steel where no one could hurt her. Rolling pillboxes that she had the power to command to her will. The only one who could hurt her in here was herself, and Ayame wouldn't let that happen. Not here. Not now.

It wasn't long before the radio static was drowned out by the voice of another commander.

"Locust here, location clear. No tanks sighted."

"Thanks, Iku. We're still en route."

Today's lesson was supposed to be about surrounding an enemy. Or at least that's Delilah had said when she and the Greyhound had disappeared into the woods to their start position. She'd left Ayame with two Stuarts and the Locust, apparently challenging Ayame to encircle her somehow.

When the M7 arrived at the clearing, each commander got out of their tanks to look over their map and discuss how to completely trap Delilah.

"Can we even find her, let alone get around her?" Maiko asked as she stared at the map.

"I'm not even sure it's physically possible to do such a thing." Said Ayame. "As soon as we see them, Mia will have a round into each of us before we fire a shot."

Iku felt more confident. "I mean, she asked us to, right? She wouldn't tell us to do something we couldn't do."

"You know, sometimes your hidden intelligence is surprising, Iku."

"Why thank you!" She beamed, blissfully unaware.

The impromptu meeting concluded without achieving anymore development on the matter. Ayame ordered the light tanks to search around, hoping to cover enough ground that finding Delilah would be inevitable. Thirty minutes went by, and yet there was nothing. No sign of Delilah, and no reports at all from anyone. The driver of the M7 cut the engine to save fuel, leaving electric and hydraulic power on the auxiliary motor.

In the thick forest, there was silence. Ayame had managed to tune the radio squelch like a violinist tunes their instrument, filtering out the static while still being able to pick up as many actual transmissions as possible. This wasn't really a show of her skill with the radio, but more a symptom of her boredom. She then set about messing with the flare pistol, making sure it was completely clean and in proper shape, should she ever actually get the chance to use it. It had been intended to use for illumination or signaling, but Ayame had never actually used it in a match before. There were supposedly smoke rounds for it too, but those hadn't seen the light of day. Smoke would have to come from shells, turret-mounted launchers, or hand-thrown smoke grenades.

"Hey, can I get a quick radio check?" Ayame asked into her microphone. There was peaceful quiet, and there was annoying quiet. This was the latter.

There was no response. Ayame checked to make sure she was transmitting through the correct set – she wouldn't have been the first commander to accidentally use the intercom instead of the radio. She'd set the toggle correctly and the radio was working, but there was nothing. After several more tries, she gave up and switched the active set to the emergency frequency. All tanks were required to monitor this, so someone would hear her.

"Hey this is Ayame, I might be having radio trouble, anybody hear me?"

"This is Kana in the M8, I hear you five by five."

"'Kay thanks. Channel clear."

Satisfied, Ayame switched back to the A-set.

"That was strange. Why did Kana respond?" She said aloud.

"She's probably at the gunnery range or something, just happened to be the first one to say anything." Her gunner answered.

"Oh right, that would make sense, wouldn't it? It was just odd because it's not like her tank is in prac-"

BOOM

A high-explosive shell detonated directly in front of the M7. Ayame felt a clod of dirt whip past her head. She wheeled around, looking to where she thought the round had come from, squinting into the smoke and dust. More rounds landed around her.

Ayame desperately called over the radio for help. Her tank was surrounded and alone. The gunner fired blindly into the trees; the cracking of the coax punctuated by rounds from the cannon. Her loader tried to load rounds as fast as she could while also occasionally poking her head up from her hatch to look around. A round bounced off the right-hand side of the turret. It tumbled into the distance, producing an eerie high-low noise.

Ayame dropped down into the turret. The noise was too much. Inside the tank wasn't much better, the firing of the cannon and the machine gun had made the compartment fill with smoke and heat. The gun recoiled from a shot, sliding backwards less than a foot away from Ayame. She coughed in the filthy air. Even with a turret ventilator, the fan was still drawing in outside air that was only marginally less smoky and dirty. Ayame felt more and more cramped, as if the white steel wall was moving inward, crushing her between it and the gun's recoil guard. Explosions rocked the tank and several more rounds bounced off the turret. Dirt that was thrown into the air dropped in the open hatches, landing in Ayame's face as she looked up at the sky.

Everything felt like it was personally coming to end her, and Ayame felt like she was being crushed. Her invincible box was being thrown around, it was no longer safe. Shells hit from every direction. She tried to scream, but again choked on the acrid air. A round sailed over the open hatch.

I'm going to die in here. After all this, after I tried to do it so many times, I'm going to die like this. Going to die, gonna die, gonna die…

Ayame felt something against her leg. Her gunner was still trying to find a target, still searching, still moving. She'd moved enough to brush against Ayame's leg while she fumbled for the traverse control. Another shot bounced off the turret. It was just inches from Ayame's face, just on the other side of the steel. Then another bounced off the loader's side, and another in the same spot next to Ayame.

That gun… that was a six-pounder. It had to be Mia. Mia was bouncing shots off the side of the M7's turret. Why was she bouncing every shot, why hadn't one hit properly yet?

Ayame's mind went blank. Blank, except one phrase. She didn't know where she heard it or who said it or what it really meant.

Calm people live. Tense people die.

There were rounds hitting the tank, but they were all high-explosive or hitting thick armor. There were so many, how were two tanks firing that many rounds? And how were none of them doing anything?

Tense people die.

Were there more tanks out there? Had Delilah secretly brought the rest of the team with her?

Kana. Kana had answered that radio call so soon, even when she shouldn't have. And just after, that first shell had hit. It was exactly like when the M8 had rained HE on her.

Calm people live.

What had Delilah said earlier? What were her exact words? "Today, you'll learn about surrounding people."

Tense people die.

That's it. Delilah was surrounding the M7 and bombarding it with every tank on the team. She'd done it on purpose, and she was making sure that none of the shots would actually take the tank out. It was all noise.

Calm people live.

Ayame realized there was something in her hand and looked down. It was the flare pistol. It was still there, just like everything was still there and happening. There was a team of tanks of out there, pounding her tank with everything they had. Delilah knew what she was doing. Now Ayame knew, too. She leaned up to her periscope and looked around. There had to be someone out there she could see, and sure enough, there was.

The Ram.

It was sitting there as Mia fired its cannon at her and Eiko fired burst after burst from the hull machine gun. Ayame tried to give a fire command but couldn't make her mouth work with her brain to produce much more than a mumble.

Screw it.

She rose out of her hatch, her shoulders and up exposed. More rounds bounced and exploded. All she had to do was point the flare. Aim it. Make it go. Ayame brought the pistol up and pulled back the hammer. Her hand was shaking.

"Fuck. You."

A brilliant white light erupted from the stubby barrel. It landed directly on the front plate of the Ram, in between Eiko's mini turret and Amy's driver compartment. Even though Ayame hadn't issued a command, the bright light instantly caught her gunner's attention. She slewed the turret over and put the crosshair right on top of the flare. The round hit head-on, very few people could miss at that range.

Ayame had just knocked out Delilah. Only one person had done that in Japan so far, and they'd needed the power of Saunders to do so. Immediately, the rest of the team's guns fell silent.

Delilah walked the distance between the Ram and the M7. She climbed up onto the turret and sat down next to Ayame, who was stilling pointing the flare pistol at the Ram and shaking. Delilah smiled and looked back at her tank.

"Congratulations. I told you that you'd learn about surrounding people, didn't I?"

Ayame put the pistol down and stared at the tank in front of her. Its white flag was flapping gently in the wind, among the smoke of battle.

"I did that…"

"You did that."

"I don't know how…"

"You've been able to the whole time."

While the rest of the team was doing maintenance and generally getting ready to leave, Ayame was in her office. This was her least favorite part of her job as the team captain: paperwork. Order forms, practice summaries, vehicle and crew manifests, match requests and offers, all paperwork was just that. Work. Like homework, but with tanks. Her laptop was open on the crowded desk, shoved off to the side. On its screen was an Excel spreadsheet of each tank and the crew member assigned to them. The newest entry was of course the T49, whose crew had had its first practice with their vehicle during the bombardment that day. The sheer speed of the little tank destroyer impressed even Amy, the team's resident speed demon. Naturally, she'd done a few laps around the practice field in it to "make sure everything was in order."

Yeah, right.

Ayame wasn't really working on anything, just pretending to while she thought about the past few hours. Never before had she been able to make herself act like that during a match. Not once had she ever managed to calm herself down. Instead, she'd always chickened out and ran or gone completely into an emotional episode.

Way back when she and Hiromi had been the only truly active ones on the team, they crewed the CTMS together in Tankathlon matches. Multiple times, Hiromi had been left without a commander or gunner while Ayame became a total wreck. Over time, she'd gotten better but somehow today was different. Something had clicked. Ayame wasn't sure how, but she felt different. She was able to stand up straight. She felt lighter. She felt power. Ayame Ikeda was the captain of the Dominion Girl's High School Tankery team. At her disposal she had an armored car, five light tanks, two tank destroyers, a self-propelled howitzer, and four medium tanks. In her bag of tricks, she had the best crew she'd ever seen and an army of talented mechanics who would make WRC pit crews look like backyard DIY-ers. Other teams might see her tanks as second-rate shitboxes, but after all, slow car fast is more fun than fast car fast. Low tier is fun tier.

Ayame's laptop pinged – a new email. She alt-tabbed through the open windows until her inbox was open. The new message was short, formal, and to the point. Her face went from pensive to a confident smile. That was the message she wanted to see today. She was a new commander, ready to lead her team to victory. Now was the time to prove it.

To: Ikeda Ayame

From: Nishi Kinuyo

Miss Ikeda,

We will accept your challenge to a skirmish match this Saturday. Please see the attached file for my personal contact info as well as the match details.

Good luck,

Nishi Kinuyo

Captain, Chi-Ha-Tan Academy