A Young Girl's Outer Heaven

12


Commissioned by Aigloss.


As the plane touched down and we reapplied our invisibility formulas, I received a transmission. "Control for Colonel von Degurechaff. Repeat, control for—"

"Go ahead, control," I responded quietly as the plane moved across the runway, slowing as it braked and turned towards the hangars.

"Ma'am, the governor is here. He's been trying to reach you since just after noon. We've delayed him by telling him you're off duty and we can't find you, but he's here now and insisting we send a patrol to find you. He says it's urgent."

"Give us ten minutes and wait for Weiss to get there. Weiss, escort him down to my usual spot on the beach."

I had some idea what he wanted. Most likely, he had gotten a call from Brasilia informing him of the assassination of the president. At a guess, he was coming to speak with me about beefing up security in the face of the commie threat, but if it were me, I'd be coming to verify that my business partner hadn't had anything to do with it. To that end…

I turned to where I knew Visha and Grantz to be, despite not being able to see them. "Visha, we'll head back and get changed into our swimsuits. Grantz, head down to the kitchen and get several of those beers I know you all keep in the refrigerator, and dig out a few empty bottles from the trash, then bring them down."

I got quiet acknowledgments from both and, a few moments later, the plane came to a stop. Weiss hurried back and opened the door and the four of us flew out, with Weiss taking his time on his way back to base. I flew straight into my bedroom via the balcony and landed, where I began stripping out of the sneaking suit immediately, dropping my invisibility formula. Visha landed a moment after and did the same.

As much as I might have liked to enjoy the view, we were in a hurry here. We were dressed and had a couple of towels and our usual beach gear gathered up and back under the veil of invisibility within five minutes and down to the beach a minute after that. As soon as we landed, we began setting our things up and, shortly after, an invisible Grantz landed and dropped off the requested beer and empties, and an ice box.

"Grantz, gather up some wood and start a fire, then head out," I ordered, and he hurried to comply while we set the scene.

Visha slipped into the water for a quick dip, before coming back out and laying herself out under the shade of a parasol. I heard her crack open and drain one of the bottles before grabbing another and closing her eyes. I stole her bottle and took a quick swig myself just so it would smell like I'd snuck at least one bottle, before grabbing my fishing spear and diving into the water as Grantz got the fire lit and presumably took off.

I stayed down, spearing a couple of fish, until Weiss radioed as he approached—not verbally, just a short morse transmission letting me know he was here. Surfacing from the river, I sucked in air and rose just over the surface, flying lazily back to my sandals, pretending I didn't see Weiss and Pedro as they approached from up the beach.

"Colonel!" Weiss called just as I spun up a mage blade and began turning fish into food.

I turned, effecting surprise as I saw the pair of men. Visha likewise tilted her head and looked, before sitting up and making a sitting salute. "Lt. Col. Weiss—"

"At ease, captain. You're off duty," he chuckled.

"Weiss, Pedro. You've got good timing. I just caught dinner. Care to join us? There might still be some drinks in the cooler," I offered with a smile, before going back to cleaning fish and setting them up near the fire to wait for it to die down.

"I'm afraid this isn't a social call, colonel," Pedro sighed, and I turned a curious look on him before moving over to the waves to wash my hands.

Coming back, I shook them off and began grabbing the clothes I'd brought with me. Pulling on a long, light shirt that doubled as a short skirt given its length, I buttoned it up and asked, "I see. What brings you, then?"

"Presidente Vargas has been assassinated."

I pretended to freeze, looking down as I considered that information. "It was the commies, then? I doubt you would be here, if it was an internal matter. Some local or another politician."

Pedro sighed at that. "A 'political officer' was apparently sent, along with a team of others under her command, who set up surveillance on the president's residence and office. Shortly after Lt. Col. Weiss left, she apparently snapped and assassinated him. No one knows why, just that it devolved into a firefight and now, Brasilia is under lock down. The government is going to hold a funeral and then assign someone to replace him until an election can be held."

Snapping my gaze to Weiss, I ordered, "Tighten security around the governor. Increased patrols. Do a second round of background checks and begin surveillance on everyone close to him just to make sure the communists haven't gotten to someone in his staff." Sending the governor a raised eyebrow, I asked, "I assume you want to throw your hat in the ring?"

"I do," Pedro nodded. "I disliked the man he had become, but Julio was still our presidente. He deserved better than to be put down like a dog by some rabid foreign idealist. This is an act of war on the part of the Russy Federation, and it's time we started treating their little invasion as the same. I want them out of my country, but in order to ensure that happens legally, I'll need to be in the position to make it happen."

I nodded, understanding the unspoken message perfectly. He had come to mirror our own thoughts on the future election. It's always good to have the 'official' green light on such plans.

"We'll make preparations to attend the meeting," I said, glancing at Weiss, who nodded. "In fact, I'll go personally. I trust my men implicitly, but it might be best to put in some face time."

"Yes. It would be best if people got used to seeing you around. If this works out in our favor, they will be seeing a lot more of the two of us together," he chuckled. "I will let you know when the meeting is to be held. Until then, I would like it if you could get a head start on surveillance and intelligence gathering in Sao Paolo. If you can discover who is leading them, we can cut the head off of the snake."

"I'm afraid that with communists, it's more of a hydra than a snake," I shook my head wryly. "There always seems to be a new head anytime you cut one off. But I'll send some men and see what we can do. You want me to just send you the bill?"

"Yes. Consider all expenses for this mission pre-approved. Whatever it takes. If we win, I'll have your costs covered out of the treasury and retroactively make it an official mission on behalf of the government of Brasa. If not… Well, it needs to be done, regardless. You can't put a price on your country's freedom."

"Weiss?"

My second in command nodded. "I'll get started as soon as I get back and brief everyone in the morning, before we make our final selections for the team."

"That's fine." Looking to Pedro, I asked, "Was there anything else?"

"Nothing at the moment. Enjoy the rest of your day off," he sent us a smile before turning and heading back up the beach, Weiss leaving with him.

When they were out of sight through the trees, I let out a quiet sigh, only to yelp as I found myself grabbed from behind. Visha giggled and began undoing the buttons on my shirt. "Let's go swimming for a bit before we eat. And that beer isn't going to drink itself."

"…I probably shouldn't," I murmured, but didn't fight her off as she finished undoing my shirt, then pulled me towards the water after tossing it onto my towel.

"It'll be fine~! It's not like there's anyone around to see you let your hair down but me."

Considering it for a moment, I chuckled. "I suppose you're right. Fine then."

Pulling my hair back, Visha hummed quietly. "It's getting long. When we get back, I'll cut it."

Fish were eaten and the cooler of beer finished off. My body, which should have been an absolute lightweight given that it was a virgin to alcohol, was apparently completely immune to the effects of drink. It made sense, unfortunately. My body was made almost entirely of mana at the moment, so of course it wouldn't have any effect on me. I'd have to wait until I regained most of my biology before trying again if I wanted to enjoy the buzz I was unfortunately all too familiar with from my life as a Japanese salaryman.

We spent the rest of the evening on the beach, until it got dark enough that we decided to head back. True to her word, as soon as we got back and had a shower to wash the sand and salt out, Visha took the time to trim my hair up into my preferred style. Then, it was off to bed to sleep before the morning's briefing.


The weekend following the assassination of President Vargas, Visha woke up late, long after her boss/superior had left for the day. Stretching out, she took her time getting out of bed and taking a shower. Changing into casual clothes as soon as she was dry, she put on her computation orb and grabbed her purse and shopping bag, before leaving the garrison.

Heading into town, she was greeted with smiles from locals and German immigrants alike. Most people she met knew who she was already—or if not who she was specifically, who she was in relation to MSF and the colonel. Weiss may have been the second in command, but Viktoriya was the pretty public face of their company and the colonel's left hand. She didn't abuse it, but it did tend to make things go a whole lot more smoothly, open a lot of doors, and generally made people much more willing to take care of whatever she needed.

She stopped in a German cafe on the riverfront for a breakfast of coffee and a pastry and took her time eating outside, enjoying the breeze. Once she was finished, Visha made her way into the open air market. She had a little arts and crafts project in mind and needed some materials to make it work. It didn't take long at all to find the first part of what she was looking for.

"Good morning!" she chirped to the man running the stall, looking over the small silver trinkets laid out in front of him.

"Good morning, senorita! Can I interest you in something?"

"Hmm, that depends~," Visha smiled, leaning forward just a bit and showing a hint of recently tan cleavage down the top of her sun dress. The man's eyes predictably dropped where she wanted them and she held in a laugh. "Are these all made of silver?"

"They are," he nodded, his eyes still glued to her breasts.

"That's good. Do you shape them yourself?"

At that, he actually looked up and met her eyes. "I do. I have molds for everything."

"I see, I see," she murmured. "If I wanted to pay for a custom order in bulk, could you make it?"

The man hummed, considering her, before his eyes trailed down again—not to her cleavage this time, but just above it, to the computation orb hanging on her necklace. By now, most of the locals could recognize them on sight and knew that anyone wearing one belonged to their group. After a moment, he asked, "How large an order, and how soon would you need it?"

"As soon as you can, and at least a hundred pieces of each design. I have four." Opening her purse, Visha pulled out a notebook and flipped to the page where she had carefully sketched out her designs. Those were: a crucifix in the shape of those that had adorned their uniforms and some of their computation orbs in the Imperial military, a pentagram of the sort most commonly used in written formulas, a hexagram used for the same, and a final one that looked like a bird—taken from a certain assault medal, if one looked closely.

The man whistled quietly and nodded. "I can make them. It will take some time to carve the molds, however."

"If you'll let me, I can help with that. Magic allows for that sort of precision carving easily," Visha offered, and after a moment of thought, he nodded.

"If you could do it today, it would allow me to cast the silver tonight and I could have it all ready tomorrow. For a rush job like this, the price is going to be—"

"Whatever you think is fair," Visha smiled.

Chuckling, he nodded. "Alright, senorita. Come find me at noon and we'll go to my shop."

"Thank you~!" Visha beamed and left with a skip in her step. Casting about with her senses, she felt what she was hoping to and made a beeline for her second stop. A stall on the other side of the market was home to an older woman selling jewelry—bracelets, necklaces, and the like made mostly of beads. Looking them over, Visha saw that many of them were a familiar red material that seemed to shine with their own inner light, while a few were of a green and blue variety that she had usually seen only in the company of her enemies, and a golden type she had never seen before.

"Like what you see, senorita?" the old woman asked, and Visha beamed.

"Very much so. Tell me, these beads," she reached out and touched one of the red ones, "where did you get them?"

"Ah, well. There were some leftovers from an old mine or two. Nothing anyone would miss!" she quickly added, and Visha nodded. "They were shut down years ago, after all."

"Of course. That's a shame. They're beautiful. Tell me, do you think you could sell me these beads. I'd like to buy as many as you have, of this type," she tapped the red, green, blue, and gold elinium beads.

"Ah, well, I don't know… That stone is very rare these days. Very sought after," she glanced down at the computation orb hanging from Visha's neck, "as I'm sure you know."

"Oh, I do," Visha nodded. "Name your price."

"Well, I couldn't part with them for less than…"

Visha nodded along and, after a little ritual dickering over the price, the matter was settled and she left with a large bag full of beads. Before she left however, she asked, "You wouldn't happen to know where the gold ones were mined, would you?"

"Ah, I think it was El Dorado."

Visha blinked. "As in…?"

The woman laughed. "No, no. It's just the nickname given to the mine for this unique golden color. It's up in the north of the country."

"Ah. Thank you," Visha nodded, before going on her way. She still had some time to kill before noon, so she flew back to the garrison to drop off her spoils.

Taking a bead of each color with her, she left the room she shared with the colonel and flew across the island, to the isolated bunker where they were keeping Professor Schugel. Passing through security quickly, it didn't take long to find the man, in his lab and busy working on some new project with several of his assistants—something to do with a computation orb, based on the pieces she saw scattered across the table.

Knocking at the door as she let herself in, Visha smiled as she called, "Professor, do you have a moment?"

The man looked up and his thunderous expression at being interrupted was quickly replaced with a smile. "Ah, Viktoriya! Good morning. What brings you?"

"I come bearing gifts!" she giggled and held out her hand, showing off the beads.

Schugel zeroed in on them and practically flew across the room. Leaning over her hand, he reached up and adjusted the lens attachments for his glasses. "Such color! Such purity! And this one!" He carefully plucked the golden bead from her hand. "I've never seen elinium in this color before."

"I hadn't either. That's why I thought of you when I did. I asked after the mine they were taken from. Apparently, it's in the north of the country. An old, abandoned mine the locals call El Dorado."

Schugel quickly took the other three beads and looked over to his assistants. "Everyone, keep working. I need to run some tests."

He turned back to Visha with a mad grin. "Thank you, Ms. Serebryakov. You've made this old man's day!"

"I'm glad," Visha giggled. "Please share the results once you know something, okay?"

"Of course, of course! We wouldn't want to waste a valuable resource if it turns out to be viable. I'll forward the results of my tests to the colonel."

Nodding, Visha asked, "But you can confirm that it is elinium and should be fine for use in magical tools?"

"My girl, I don't need to test for that. You can see it for yourself! I'm sure that as a mage, you can even sense it?" he asked, and she nodded. "There you go. Perfectly fine for whatever you want to put it in."

"Thanks, professor."

With that, she left the professor to his experiments and went to occupy herself until it was time for her noon appointment.


The next evening Visha gathered her bag, left the garrison, and made her way across the small island to the castle to their north. She was waved through security at the entrance and made her way through the newly renovated halls to an area well away from the main section of the castle. After a corner and well off the beaten path, a thick, steel door stood blocking off the corridor.

She produced a key from her bag and slipped it into the lock. Turning the key, previously hidden script on the door lit up with mana and she cast a formula to unlock the second, magical half of the lock. Slipping inside, she closed the door behind herself, which locked again with a solid thunk of steel bolts sliding home.

Following the corridor a short distance, she turned off into a side room and shut the door behind herself. The room was full of lockers and benches, and wouldn't have been out of place in any gymnasium or barracks. Opening her personal locker, she changed out of her sun dress and pulled on the black and white robe hanging inside with a sigh.

This is so silly, she rolled her eyes, hanging her sundress up.

Collecting her bag, she left the locker room and made her way to the wooden door at the end of the hall. Opening it, she looked over the chapel inside with pews full of off duty soldiers—even some of the officers. She spotted Grantz and his wife up in the front, the blonde woman now several months along in her pregnancy.

Putting on a smile, Visha made her way up front as quiet conversations fell silent and all eyes turned to her. "Good evening, everyone~!" she called as she reached the front and set her bag down on a table beside the podium where she would normally speak. From under the podium, she took out a brass donation pan and placed it on the table beside the bag.

"It's good to see you all again. So, before we begin, I have something for you all! A little something Dr. Schugel and I put together. We worked extra hard on them!"

"Herr Schugel made another breakthrough? Again?" someone asked, and she nodded, laughing quietly.

"A small one. We've put together some simple defensive charms made from a newly discovered miracle material. They should allow even civilians to activate a defensive shield capable of withstanding an explosive formula—more, even, if you charge it. And that's the trick! Any mage can charge them and it stores mana indefinitely."

Opening the bag, she reached in and pulled out a string of beads long enough to be a short necklace, with a silver bird dangling from the middle. Holding up her left wrist, Visha showed off her own bracelet as people began gathering around and looking them over. Hers had a pentagram and hexagram hanging together where it was clasped closed.

"How much?" Grantz asked, taking one of the shorter ones with a cross on the end and looking it over.

Visha grinned. "No limit that we've found. There are enough for everyone. I have some you can attach to your uniform or your weapon, bracelets, and necklaces."

Finding the end and the golden thread holding it together, Grantz quietly asked, "Is this what I think it is?"

"Yes. It's her hair."

The chapel fell silent at that—talismans made from the colonel's own hair resting on their trembling palms, as if they were holding the feathers of one of God's own angels in their hands. Normally, the results of Schugel's tests on the colonel would have been kept private, just between the doctor and the colonel. However, Colonel von Degurechaff had thought it prudent to share them with Weiss and Visha—Weiss because he was her second in command, Visha because Tanya knew Viktoriya had the ear of the whole operation. That, and she wanted to assure both them and the rest of the unit that she was fit and healthy, ready for duty, and not likely to keel over—or explode, again.

They had proof now of the miracle of the colonel's survival and the aftermath—of what she had become. That proof had only driven the budding… she wouldn't call it a cult exactly—but it had only fueled their belief in divine intervention. That the colonel was some kind of saint, or had transcended into an angel of the Lord.

Visha knew how the colonel would have felt about it—she would have reacted… explosively, really. As in with explosive formulas.That was why they kept things quiet. Thankfully, that was easy enough to do as what was effectively the head priestess of the Church of Saint Tanya—a position she'd found herself thrown into on the voyage over, as the colonel's closest confidante and adjutant. No one bothered Tanya about it. Everyone did their work and acted like the consummate professionals they were in her presence. They kept their worship and prayer behind closed doors. She thought it was a bit silly, honestly—but it made them feel better so it was better to manage things from the inside and make sure they didn't get out of hand, or get any strange ideas.

…Stranger than they already had.

To go along with that proof they had learned some other interesting things. For instance, the colonel's actual biological samples—what blood and skin Schugel could get and her hair—were all saturated with the colonel's mana. They accepted, channeled, and more importantly stored mana—fixed it in place the same way the colonel did, all by themselves. Any sample was effectively a mana battery. Herr Doktor Schugel explained it as being somewhat like the function of Tanya's old Type 95 computation orb in that way. Those samples could fix and channel a seemingly unlimited amount of mana—better than elinium, even.

Combine that with some simple silver plates inscribed with a basic shield formula and you had a shield you could charge in your off time and use as needed, or which would activate under specific conditions—in this case, they had programmed them to react to gunfire or hostile spells. Or, such as in the case of Grantz, a shield he could charge for his wife. They were effectively single purpose magical foci/tools.

"Divine protection from the saint herself," someone whispered. "This could change the war."

"No, this could change the world," another replied.

"Just another day for the colonel, am I right?" Visha laughed. "I'm sure she's just going to keep going until she's saved everyone."

They all looked at her strangely for some reason, eyes wide and jaws hanging loose, and Visha had to wonder if this was how it felt for the colonel whenever she addressed them from a stage. She couldn't imagine why they were doing this now, she was just telling them what they already knew about the colonel after all. However, Visha didn't get to put more thought into before the first man quickly marched forward, fished out some money from his pocket and putting it in the donation pan.

"I'll take two!" he said, hurriedly attaching the first talisman to his uniform as fast as he could—as if it were his lifeline.

"Three for me!" Others rushed to do likewise.

"I need five for my whole family!"

"Likewise," Grantz slapped his money down, reverently taking the necklace Visha had held and putting it around his wife's neck, who beamed happily.

Individually, each piece was priced based on how much materials it had cost to make, plus a twenty-five percent markup. Her own labor going into them had been minimal—it was more work doing all the running around to get all of the materials than it was to use a common beauty formula the girls in the mage corps all shared for doing their hair to put all the pieces together. And while the initial funds to buy the materials had come out of their treasury, specifically the spoils of war fund, she would be putting that right back and pocketing the rest to reinvest and do it all again later.

I can make a little extra money on the side and make something useful to protect my friends and their families. It's a win/win!

Once everyone had what they wanted, Visha put the bag and collection pan away, tucking the money into her bag as she did. Then, she settled into her usual position at the podium. "Alright, everyone. We'll start on this side," she pointed to the far right, front pew. "Do you have any concerns? Anything you'd like to address to the saint?"

The man in question glanced at his wife briefly, who sent him an encouraging look. Standing, he said, "I've heard from some contacts with sources in the south that the communists have started a campaign of fire bombing factories to attempt to incite the workers to rise up, and it's working in places. What can we do to make sure that doesn't happen here?"

"Mm, that is serious. I'll bring it up with the colonel," Visha nodded. It was a good question though. She was still young when her parents had taken her and fled when the communists took over, but she remembered her father complaining of similar acts in the lead up to the staged 'revolution' that had killed so many. Of communist sympathizers and agitators, the media, college professors, and others—educated idiots her papa called them—who had approached the common folks, the factory workers and the like, and convinced them they were being taken advantage of as a consequence of the industrial revolution. Then, after burning their places of business, they had rallied those workers together, stirred them up into an angry mob, and with nowhere left to go back to because their workplaces were destroyed, that mob had sought out the targets the agitators had aimed them at.

So, how would we stop that from happening again, here? The best way would probably be… Yes. Get to the people first.

"As for what you can do personally? Community outreach. We are new to this country. Guests. We should reach out and embrace our neighbors. Show them that we're good, kind people. Get to know them. Learn what they value and their fears. Show them the value of community and of their own hard work, and what we can do together. Tell them of what life was like at home, before the war, and those of you who saw it, of what it was like when the Russy Federation started sending their civilian 'emigrants' over to sell the average worker on their ideals. That way, if the communist agitators do come to attack the factories, they will not find a group of downtrodden people who believe they are being taken advantage of and that the ideal of some communist utopia will liberate them. They will instead find a group of people who take pride in what they do, in the jobs they have, the life they're able to give to their families, and see the agitators as the threat they are. They will fight back. When the sympathizers speak of how supposedly good and fair things are under communism in the Russy Federation, they will see them for the snake oil salesmen they are. But most importantly, you need to teach your own children of our values and the evils of communism, because it is through our children that they will try to take our nation. Not in the span of a day, but in the course of fifteen to twenty years. Enough time to educate a generation of children in their beliefs, stealing them from their families."

Smiling, she asked, "Anything else?"

"No, priestess. Thank you."

He sat down and she moved on to the next down the line. "And you? What troubles you?"

"You mentioned children. There are no public schools here and their excuse for education is abysmal. What should we do?"

Humming, she considered it for a moment, before nodding. "This isn't really an issue for the colonel. I'll bring it up with the governor. I'm sure he'll be happy to allocate some funds to build a school and hire teachers. Until then, we'll just have to lean on each other for support. Get together with the other parents and see what you can organize. Those who are off duty can take the responsibility on in a rotation. Those wives who have the time could volunteer. It sounds like what we'll need most is books and a curriculum, however. So I'll see about sourcing some materials when I speak with governor Vazquez. Perhaps we can arrange a flight back to Germany to purchase some materials. Otherwise, perhaps we can source them from the States."

And so it went, as she saw to the needs of her… flock.

I never thought I would go from fleeing the communists in the dead of night, to fighting a war against them, to literally preaching against them.


A shiver ran down my spine and I looked up from my work. A feeling of unease settled in the pit of my stomach. Glancing at the open balcony doors, I shook my head.

It must have just been a cold breeze. …Yes, a cold breeze in the eternal summer of the equatorial zone.

After a moment, I sighed and forced myself to get back to work.

Either I'm getting paranoid or superstitious. I'm not certain which is worse.


There was a knock at the door and Captain Serge Gorbachev blew out a gray sigh of smoke at the interruption. "Enter."

"Captain, that report from Brasilia," his visitor hurried in and handed over several sheets of paper.

"You've read it already, commander?" he asked, and the other man nodded.

"Da."

"Summarize it for me, then. I want to hear what you think in your own words before I read it."

The commander nodded. "The afternoon of the incident, President Vargas had a guest, one Lt. Col. Weiss of a," he made a disgusted face, "mercenary company, visiting on behalf of the governor of Bellum. They spoke for a time and witnesses report that there was shouting from the captain before the Lt. Col. left. After which, the captain went to her room to write her official report. From here, the facts are less certain. According to witnesses, the captain rushed through the halls and accused the president of being a traitor, before killing him on the spot. There is no evidence to back up her claim. No audio recordings of intercepted telephone calls, no witnesses with information to show that the man was a traitor. Seemingly, she deduced this out of the blue and attacked him, before being killed herself."

Gorbachev frowned. "Capt. Sokolov was a trained aerial mage. One of the new batch, certainly, but no mere soldier should have been able to take down her shield."

"I don't know, sir. The report doesn't say how it happened, just that it did."

Humming, Gorbachev asked, "What about her computation orb. There would have been a log. A report that would tell us what happened in those last moments. Or at least a list of her last used formulas and any readings from enemy mages."

The commander shook his head. "Unknown, sir. Either it was destroyed or stolen before our people got there to claim the body. But if it had… malfunctioned or been stolen, that could explain how the guard took her down."

Or if she lost it due to incompetence, Gorbachev interpreted the unspoken part. Still, it made sense. It was a well known fact that Russy orbs made after Comrade Joseph's takeover and deciding that mages were suddenly needed again were garbage compared to those made before, let alone those the enemy made. It was so likely that it had broken that he was almost willing to write it in his own report.

Speaking of reports, where was hers?

"What of the report she was to make?"

"I don't know, sir. It looks as though she never started. The ribbon of her typewriter was recently changed and a sheet of paper loaded, but nothing had been written recently. Her room was also thoroughly searched and likely looted prior to our men arriving."

"Damn." Reaching out, he stubbed out his cigarette in the ash tray and tapped out another, before offering the pack to the commander, who took one. They took a moment to light their smokes before Gorbachev asked, "And this 'Weiss?' The name sounds Imperial."

"No information on him. He's completely unknown to us. Not part of governor Vazquez's inner circle according to our intelligence on the area, but that intelligence is a year old."

Gorbachev nodded. "Very well. Send a small unit north, to Bellum. Have them look into this Weiss and interrogate the governor on what they spoke of."

"Yes, captain. One last thing. The state funeral for President Vargas is to be held tomorrow in Brasilia, followed by the referendum where they will decide who will replace him in the interim, until elections. Should we send someone?"

The captain considered for a moment before nodding. "Yes. Send someone to go lean on them and remind them to keep our interests in mind when they make their decision."

"Sir!"

Gorbachev watched the commander leave before leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

As if this mess could get any worse. I should just send a request to the motherland for a battalion of aerial mages. Perhaps we could begin cycling them in, training them here, then sending them back home. …If we request teachers from among us old timers, the politburo is going to politely insist that any children and family they have stay home, 'for their protection' of course. Political hostages, in reality. I wish there were something I could do to help my comrades back home, but I'm sure the moment I commit something to paper, my 'wife' will send a message back to command and I'll be put in front of the firing squad before anything can come of it.

Damnit!