A Young Girl's Outer Heaven

20


Commissioned by kyo amamoto.


"Morning, Jack."

"Morning, Earl," Jack grinned to the security guard at the door as he showed his badge, then opened up a box of donuts and offered one up. The security guard grinned and took a napkin from the box to grab one of the offered pastries. "How's the family?"

"Wife's thinking of picking up a job now that the kids are out of school and Mindy's getting married. Said she wants to try the supermarket."

Jack winced. "Don't recommend it. My wife tried it before we had our son and she hated it. She said it felt like her soul was being crushed. She's found another way to keep busy with Jack Jr. in school now."

"Yeah?" Earl asked, raising an eyebrow, fishing for ideas to give his wife.

"Yeah, she took up sewing. She makes all my clothes now. Tell you what, Andrea's been thinking about starting a book club with some of the women in the neighborhood. I'll talk to her and find out when she's supposed to have her first meeting. Why don't you send the wife over and they can talk about it. See if it interests her?"

Earl considered it for a moment before nodding. "Sure, I'll—"

"Hey, what's the hold up?" someone called from behind as another man came through the doors. "Quit shooting the shit. Some of us here have work to do."

Jack moved aside and let Earl check the other man's badge before waving him through. Shaking his head, Jack closed up his box of donuts. "I'll catch you later, Earl."

"Later, Jack. I'll talk to the wife about it."

Nodding, Jack made his way towards the elevator, only to have it close almost in his face as the rude guy grinned from the other side of the doors. Shrugging, Jack hit the button and waited as it went up, then came back down. As soon as the car was empty, he got in and hit the button for B2. A short ride down, and he made his way down the hall towards his office—one of many in a set of offices dedicated to the Company's analysts' department here at the E Street Complex. As he went, he stopped and offered donuts to his coworkers, until only two were left for himself by the time he sat down at his desk.

Opening his thermos, he poured himself a cup of coffee and took a few minutes to eat breakfast and settle in before getting to work. Part of that process involved checking his inbox, which he saw had a package.

"Hm?" Jack hummed, raising an eyebrow as he pulled his knife out and cut the package open, dumping its contents onto the desk. Inside were a bunch of black and white photographs of the sky with stars circled in red marker—some of which had arrows and writing indicating direction of movement, speed, and so on. Along with the photos were sheets of paper someone had taken the time to type up, giving details on what each photo contained and, in the end, a summary. Finally, there were two canisters—one containing a reel to reel audio recording, the other a film reel for a projector.

Flipping the package over, Jack checked the address. "Allegheny Observatory, Pittsburgh PA.. What's an observatory in Pennsylvania doing sending us mail? How did they even know we'd be the people to send something suspicious to?"

Finishing off his breakfast and coffee, Jack began putting photos to pages and figuring out what was going on. And he couldn't.

Pages upon pages of opaque scientific jargon and indecipherable algebraic equations. Everywhere he looked, it was more references to obscure astronomical theories, passing mentions of other fields of science, and the recent works of other astronomers. And while Jack himself was no high school dropout, these were clearly astronomical proofs meant to convince other astronomers and PHD holders.

He took a step back, refilled his cup of coffee, and took a sip.

But there were a couple of pieces that stood out: namely, the concerningly common use of 'megatons of TNT' as a unit. That unit he was somewhat familiar with from mage training, as a purely theoretical unit of measurement for the force of an explosion formula. It was for a proposed joint casting to upscale formulas. Just a thought experiment of how many mages can we add before this falls apart, then taking the end result and adding zeroes to make a theoretical maximized yield formula.

But it was just a theory.

There was something dangerous up there in the sky that was threatening the U, S, and A. Whatever it was, there was enough proof that someone from the U.S. Naval Observatory had given this 'Professor Wolfe' the address for the Company and Jack's department here in the basement. They thought he was the right man for the job and he wasn't going to disappoint.

Jack decided to approach the material from a different angle and started with the reels first. Maybe they would help him decipher the papers. Heading down the hall to the projector room, he quickly set up the two reels, made sure they were synced, cut off the lights, and hit play. The familiar clicking of the projector filled the room and Jack watched as the camera's field of view panned wildly.

"Father, are you sure we should—?"

"Yes, Sara. Now hush. Point the camera here, please." The camera centered on a man in his early fifties, with graying hair and a beard, wearing a dark colored tweed suit. "Good evening… or whenever this video finds you. By now, you've hopefully had a chance to go over the photographs and notes I've sent. If not, then I suppose you're in for quite the surprise.

"Before we begin, allow me to introduce myself and explain a bit. My name is Professor Edward Wolfe, twenty year professor of astronomy at the University of Pittsburgh. The building you're seeing is the Allegheny Observatory. The device you see behind me," the professor gestured towards a tall structure behind him, upon which was mounted what Jack guessed was a very large telescope, "is a 30-inch refracting telescope, constructed in 1914. It is in perfect working condition and is maintained regularly. The lens is checked for defects and debris on a weekly basis.

"Or, to put things bluntly: I am not a crackpot or some madman raving at the sky, nor am I some wet behind the ears greenhorn who can't tell the difference between an asteroid and a mosquito in front of the lens. My equipment is relatively new and in good, working order. What I've seen, what you are about to see, is not a fault of the lens, not a speck of dirt or a smudge. I've spent the last weeks tracking these things and contacting colleagues to verify my findings."

The professor gestured towards the girl holding the camera and the video moved as she walked forward. "Now, we'll connect the camera here to the telescope. I'll shut it off for a moment while we do so."

The film skipped a few blank frames and the audio went silent for a moment before video came back showing a star field. The professor's voice continued. "There we go. Now, if you'll direct your attention to the lower right quadrant, you'll see it coming into view in just a moment."

Jack watched and, sure enough, something bright entered the camera's field of view. "There it is. One of them. If you've read my notes, you'll know by now that there are between two and three hundred of them flying overhead, if not more. We won't have an accurate count for some time, as we're waiting on word from colleagues overseas and elsewhere. You see, while some of them move, others appear to be fixed in position. Have no doubt, they're still moving at a fast clip just to keep up with the rotation of the Earth, but to the observer on the ground they would appear to be still. As though just another star in the sky. But they're not stars!"

The bright spot was nearly fully across the field of view now as the professor continued. "I believe that these new satellites orbiting our world are artificial in nature. Man made! We've theorized about it for years, of course. How, if we could escape the Earth's atmosphere and put a telescope in naked space, it would be able to see so much more. Ideas have been proposed for how to get one up, but there are very real technical limitations. A balloon would be able to get one fairly high, but its lifting potential is limited by the mass of any cargo and the Archimedes Principle, meaning they will never truly escape atmosphere—and these artificial satellites are much, much higher than any balloon's ability to reach.

"Of course, we're all aware of the Germans' V-2 rockets by now. I've spoken to several people in the field who assure me that a similar rocket could theoretically make it not just into space, but even send something to the moon itself. However, you would need a rocket roughly two hundred feet tall or more to do it and you start getting into the problem of needing exponentially more fuel. The fact is that as far as those experts are concerned, we aren't there yet, technologically speaking. They estimate twenty, perhaps thirty years of development of the required technologies."

The camera went dark again as the satellite finished passing by overhead. A moment later, it returned, once again centered on the professor. "And yet, despite all of that, someone has managed to do it. So I look at this and I have to ask myself, 'Am I looking at a German wunderweapon? A last ditch effort by the Germans to avoid surrendering?' I can't answer that question. I just hope you can." The professor paused for a moment, his gaze shifting slightly off center as a worried look crossed his face.

"I don't know if you're aware of what happened in the Atlantic, with the disappearance of one of our fleets. I have friends in the navy who were able to get me your address. I also have friends in universities across the country, currently doing research on mana levels and the like. If you didn't know, then this may come as a shock. A few months ago, one of our fleets was lost on its return trip from the war front. At the same time, those instruments picked up a large spike in mana. Someone with access confirmed that it matched the mana signature of a rather infamous figure in the war—an aerial mage known as the Devil of the Rhine."

That was a name Jack was uncomfortably familiar with. It had not just become his job of late, it had nearly cost him his job due to a minor disagreement with some people who were, while technically not his bosses seeing as the Company was a civilian agency on paper, they could still make his life miserable. Anything even tangentially related to that mage was being copied to him for review and analysis.

"The explosion was larger than anything we've ever seen. On par with things quietly theorized about behind closed doors involving certain volatile materials. I can't help but wonder… What if they married the two ideas? Put such a device on a rocket capable of sending it into space, then set it to orbit the planet. Just waiting for some timer to count down, or a signal to be sent, at which time it would descend and strike at some pre-designated target. Perhaps one of our cities. Perhaps the capitol or the White House. They are only a mile and a half apart. If a device were to strike the Smithsonian, the explosion could be large enough that it could take out both."

Jack felt his blood run cold at those words. His heart raced, pounding in his ears, barely audible over the sudden ringing in them. And then, the professor spoke again, and Jack collapsed down into the chair beside the projector.

"And remember… There are over two hundred of whatever they are currently circling the globe. If it is enemy action, then we are in the most disadvantageous position possible. In chess, I believe this would be checkmate. We have nowhere left to move. Nothing to do but concede the game. I pray that isn't the case, but I've long since learned that prayer by itself isn't worth much. I don't know about you, but I believe I'll start a little family project and build ourselves a shelter, just in case." Shifting his gaze back to the camera, it felt like the professor was looking directly into Jack's eyes. "Whoever you are, please make sure this reaches the people who need to know."

The film ended a moment later, the sudden flicking of the reel making Jack jump. Stiffly, he went about putting the film back on the first reel properly and rewinding the audio recording. As he did, a theory began to form. It was a wild one, but not impossible—just so improbable that it shouldn't be possible. And yet, the more he read, the more he studied, the more it seemed the photos showed that not only was it possible but someone had done it.

Dear God, someone put something into space. A whole lot of somethings. Is it really some sort of weapon? Can it be converted into one?

The man who had discovered the artificial satellites as he called them didn't know. But the possibility that there were over two hundred of these things just flying over their heads at any time had seemed like it might be a threat to the security of the nation. No, not just a threat, but an orbital guillotine over the collective heads of millions of his fellow Americans.

And someone out there had their hand on the lever.


"Chu~!"

Viktoriya blinked, looking up and across the desk as her superior sniffed. Feeling her gaze, Tanya asked, "What?"

"What was that?!" Visha laughed, and the younger girl blushed.

"It was a sneeze!"

"I've heard you sneeze before. That wasn't a sneeze! It was too cute to be a sneeze!"

"S-shut up!" Tanya demanded, looking away, only to let out a squeak as Visha moved around the desk and wrapped her in a hug. "J, just what are you doing?! We're still on the clock!"

"Shh! No one's watching. It's fine~."


His hands shook and he felt sick. Everything in him told him that he needed to do something. That he needed to move. To let his superiors know.

No. I don't want to jump the gun here. If I can't verify it, if I can't get proof, then I'll lose my job and they might ignore it.

Taking the reels back to his office, Jack left them there and locked up, collecting his jacket and keys. He stopped in the restroom and took a few minutes to sit on the toilet. Not out of any need to use the restroom, but just to give his nerves time to ease up and his body to relax.

At least, that had been the intent. But his mind wouldn't let it go. He remembered the footage, taken from a computation orb, of one of the joint casting experiments. As it turned out, the upper limit of common mages working together with no special training before a formula collapsed was upwards of one hundred. They liked to show the video to new mage recruits as an example of what they could do, working together.

He could picture it now. The group of mages taking up a formation in the sky, like the old method of soldiers lining up for volley fire. The sky filling with the glow of mana as they began. Then below them, a stretch of desert somewhere in Nevada—empty, save for a mockup of an American town.

There was a fireball and a distinctive mushroom shaped cloud. The town, over a square mile of staged buildings, was either disintegrated or blasted to bits and burned up. When it cleared, all that was left was a crater and burning debris.

Jack's mind helpfully supplied him with the thought of what that would look like, if it went off near his home. An all too vivid image of his beautiful blonde wife going to open the front door, only to have just enough time to process the wave of fire and force rushing in, before—

Jack turned and fell to his knees, heaving into the toilet. His body ached. He was covered in sweat. His heart felt like he had just run triple his normal morning five mile jog.

When his body stopped shaking, he left the stall, washed his hands and rinsed his mouth out, then splashed some water on his face. Looking at himself in the mirror, he took a deep breath.

Okay. He said he had a friend in the Naval Observatory. That's right next door.

With that in mind, he hurried out of the building. It was a relatively short walk from Navy Hill to the observatory's main office. Jack hurried inside and was greeted by a younger looking woman sitting at a desk.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Jack hurried over and pulled out his government ID. "Yeah, sorry. Jack Thompson. I'm an analyst with uh," he gestured with the ID and she took it, reading it over.

"I see," the woman murmured. "What can the USNO do for the CIA, Mr. Thompson?"

"Do you have a, um," Jack racked his brain, trying to remember the notes the professor had left. "Leonardo King? Retired captain?"

"Leo?" she asked, chuckling. "Yes. Hang on a minute, I'll buzz him for you." Jack nodded and she picked up her desk phone. A moment later, she turned slightly away. "Hi, Leo, it's Anne. Listen, I've got a guy down here from the CIA, a Mr. Jack Thompson. He seems kinda… frazzled, you know? … Oh. … Oh! Yeah, I'll send him up!" Hanging up, she pointed towards the stair well in the corner of the room. "Second floor, third office on your left. He's been expecting you."

"Excuse me?" Jack asked, and she smiled. Confused, he made his way to the stairs and up to the second floor. Finding the right door, he knocked.

"Come in!" someone called from the other side, and Jack entered. "I've been expecting you, Mr. Thompson. You've seen it, then? Ed's little home movie."

It wasn't a question, but Jack nodded. "I have. And you've been expecting someone from the Agency, or…?"

"You specifically," Leo smiled, standing and offering his hand, which Jack shook before the two took seats across the desk from each other.

"Why me?"

Leo chuckled. "Your name has been floated around certain circles. Former marine mage. Computation orb failure during training left you unable to fly again, but you've found a way to put your skills to use. You know, most people would have some second thoughts about telling a general they're wrong to his face, let alone in a room full of his peers and superiors."

Frowning, Jack sat up a bit straighter. "Sir, I couldn't just say nothing when the evidence clearly showed he was wrong. She's still alive and she was seen in Germany, after the explosion that supposedly claimed her life—"

The older man waved him off. "I'm aware. I've heard the theory. That's why I had this sent you way. You're one of the few in the Company who has the balls to stand up and do what's right. I trust you'll live up to that reputation now."

Jack slowly nodded. "I would, but I can't do it without more evidence. I need verifiable proof from an independent third party before I can take this to my superiors."

"We thought as much. Come back tonight and you'll have your proof. You'll be recording?"

"I will," Jack confirmed, briefly reaching up and patting the pocket containing his precision pocket watch computation orb—a much newer model than the training model that had seen him grounded just before the U.S. got involved in the war.

"The show starts at 2130. Don't be late," Leo warned.

"I won't. So, what can you tell me about the satellites that wasn't in the report from Prof. Wolfe?"

The captain sat back and pulled a pipe from his desk. "You mind?" he asked, and Jack shook his head, but got up to open the nearby window. The older man packed his pipe as he spoke. "It wasn't in the report, but we have a theory."

"Go on," Jack urged.

"There are a lot of them, and while we can't see them during the day, it's not like they stop moving during the daytime." Turning around, he pulled a small globe on a stand from a bookshelf on the wall behind his desk. Putting it on the desk between them, Leo took a moment to strike a match and light his pipe, before setting the globe to spinning slowly. Picking up a pen, he held it over the globe, so that it floated over a path that put it over the northern part of the U.S..

"They're moving like this," Leo said around the stem of his pipe, taking another pen and holding it up on the opposite side of the globe, but along the same path. "From where they're sitting, they can see everything along this latitude."

"And we're worried they can hit anything below it," Jack murmured, and Leo nodded.

"That's right. But here's the funny thing. Here, hold these," he gestured with the pens and Jack reached out and took them, before Leo took two more and held them up so they formed a square. "Notice anything?"

Jack studied the placement for a few moments before nodding. "They can all see each other."

"Bingo. I've been speaking with some of the boys over at the Magic Institute for Research on Global Events. They're communicating. They've picked up magical signals bouncing between them and the ground. They haven't decrypted them yet, but there's definitely a signal. Now, here's where it gets interesting. I've had a buddy in the mage corps doing some surveys…"

Leo stopped the globe and gestured for Jack to keep his pens where they were as he began moving his own. "Ed and a few others spotted this one, and we verified it's there," Leo moved a pen over the middle of the U.S. above the globe. "But the survey found one further south," Leo moved the second pen over the Gulf of Mexico.

"The Gulf?" Jack asked, then looked at the globe again. "No. The Tropic of Cancer."

"Mhmm. We haven't sent anyone down to verify yet, but I bet you a Buffalo nickel there's one over the equator too."

Jack opened his mouth to ask why, only to close it with a click of teeth. He dropped the pens and leaned back in his seat, thinking. "Do you have the coordinates for the ones you know about?"

"Got 'em right here," Leo nodded, pushing a sheet of paper forward. "The ones marked as synchronous stay directly above a place without moving."

"Got it," Jack nodded. Firing up an illusion formula, he produced a globe with latitude and longitude lines, then began filling in dots over where they moved. The globe quickly grew a series of dots flying around it in white, with dots in blue sitting still—one above Kansas, one above the Gulf, and a third hypothetical in yellow above the equator along the east coast of South America, specifically the country of Brasa.

Then, pulling up his research data, he plotted out a course for a missing German U-boat in red, along with several others in yellow. "So, hear me out. The day the ceasefire was declared, a special Imperial unit under the direct command of the General Staff went AWOL—the Salamander Battle Group. And the leader of that group?"

"Your white whale?" Leo asked, and Jack grinned.

"Got it in one. The Devil of the Rhine herself. So, Salamander goes missing and that same night, so does a German sub—U-37. Along with a bunch of equipment and supplies that just so happened to be shipped to where U-37 was docked. The man responsible for that has himself since disappeared, but I'll get to that in a minute." When Leo nodded, Jack continued.

"This is the route U-37 likely took through the Adriatic all the way to the Atlantic. I say probably because it follows the course that a private ship, the Lucia, took on its crossing to America. The Lucia left the same night. It's not out of the question to think that a private ship's captain with ties to the Empire helped them escape. It wouldn't be hard to hide a U-boat under another ship when aerial observers were spotted."

A new blue line joined them. "This is the course our fleet was taking at the time. They intersect. And this," a red dot was added in the middle of the Atlantic, "is where last radio transmissions and magical detection puts our fleet when it went down to that bomb. So, why would the fleet suddenly change course?"

The former navy captain hummed, puffing at his pipe. After a moment, he answered, "They spotted something."

"I think so, yeah. And when they got too close…"

"The Devil set off some kind of mana bomb that wiped out the fleet," Leo surmised, and Jack nodded.

"But what if it didn't take out U-37? What if the sub kept going?" The red line became dashed and terminated on the east coast of South America—Brasa, to be specific.

"And now we've got these devices flying above the planet and what looks like a trail leading south," the older man murmured, stroking his chin. "Do you believe in coincidence, Mr. Thompson?"

"I stopped believing in coincidence and started believing in providence when I woke up after a fall from five thousand feet only broke my back." Pointing to his floating map, Jack said, "She's alive. I know it. There are too many coincidences. Her unit went AWOL the same night this ship left and a U-boat went missing. The explosion here. Then a recently decommissioned U.S. bomber marked for sale shows up in Germany the day the Air Force is getting ready to transport a top Imperial magical scientist and his team. One of those planes suddenly turns and flies into the Federation. The other, the one carrying Dr. Schugel himself keeps going, but disappears somewhere over the Atlantic. That's also, coincidentally, the last day anyone sees Lt. Col. Maximilian Johann von Ugar, serving in the Imperial Railway Department—the man who sent the shipment of supplies that went missing to the port where U-37 was docked. A man who reportedly attended their war college with the Devil of the Rhine."

"You think she came back for him," Leo asked, and Jack shook his head.

"No, I think he was just a target of convenience. She was there for Schugel. Reports say he's a bit of a mad scientist. He's the one who invented the V-2. He also developed some new hot rod of a computation orb that the Devil's old unit from before they got integrated into Salamander, the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, all used. Early intel from our interrogation of Schugel and his people say he developed a prototype that was even more advanced, but too much machine for almost any mage to handle."

"Almost." Tapping out his pipe into his ash tray, Leo asked, "You think she has it?"

"She was there when it was developed. The test pilot and the only one who could get it to work, according to reports. I don't know how much you know about operation orbs…?"

"Not much. Just that a mage needs one."

"Kind of. It's like… a rifle. You can still kill someone with a knife, or your bare hands, but it's a lot easier with a rifle. A computation orb helps a mage offload a lot of the mental strain of the math required for magic. A normal mage can do the math for one spell in his head at all times. An exceptional mage can juggle two. With a computation orb, that adds an extra formula, giving a normal mage two formulas to use. Flight plus a shield, or flight plus an explosive formula. An exceptional mage can do all three of those at the same time. I've been over the data from almost every battle the Devil participated in. Before meeting Schugel, she was using three or four at a time, on a single core computation orb. Schugel's work produced a dual core computation orb."

"Three spells at the same time for even a mediocre mage," Leo interpreted, and Jack nodded.

"The elites of the 203rd were reported to be able to use four. The Devil? Between five and seven."

Leo frowned. "The math doesn't add up."

"No, it does. Schugel's magnum opus was a four core computation orb—and the only mage good enough to use it was the Devil herself. It turned an already exceptional mage into a living legend."

Chuckling, Leo said, "It sounds like you admire her."

Jack nodded, admitting, "I guess I do. The youngest aerial mage ever. She could do things without an orb that most mages with one can't. Highest kill count of any mage in history, making her the one and only ace of aces multiple times over. She's a hero to her people and if she was on our side, we'd call her one too. But that's beside the point," he waved a hand dismissively. "What I was getting at is this: if Schugel, the madman who came up with that monster of an orb, the V-2, and some kind of mana bomb is alive and under the control of the Devil of the Rhine, then I don't doubt for a minute that those satellites are his work. He just stuck the concepts together, putting a bomb on a rocket and sending it into orbit. That's why I need proof. You've heard what I think. If I go to my boss and tell them that the biggest two terrors of the Empire are not just alive and working together, but operating in a foreign country with enough resources to do things that our scientists think are thirty years ahead of their time and I don't have hard evidence? I'm going to get turfed so fast my ass will leave a streak across the parking lot."

"Well, I'd hate for that to happen," Leo chuckled. "Why don't you go home early? See your wife and let her know you'll be going back in late. Get something to eat, then meet back here at nine. You're wound a little tight, Jack."

Jack sighed, stretching in his seat. "Yeah, sorry. This whole thing's got me worked up."

Standing, Jack reached out and shook Leo's hand. "I'll be back this evening."


"Morning, Jack. You look like crap."

"Heh. Yeah. Morning, Earl," Jack nodded, showing his badge and hurrying through the checkpoint. "I've been up most of the night preparing a report. Sorry, no time to talk this morning."

"It's fine. Have a good one," Earl waved him through and Jack hurried to the elevator.

"Hey! Hold the doors—!"

A smile pulled Jack's lips up as the jerk from the day before was cut off. Chuckling, he rode the elevator down and made his way to his office. Taking a seat at his desk, he poured himself a cup of coffee and looked over his inbox, where a large, sealed envelope waited with his name on it.

"What do we have here?" Jack murmured, using his knife to slit the top of the envelope after reading the return address. Oh, this is from that base selling our used planes. Guess they finally got back to me on who they sold Murder Inc. to. Don't see why they didn't just call though.

Taking a sip of his coffee, he poured the envelope's contents onto his desk and nearly choked as his eyes went wide. Carefully putting the cup down, he picked up the photos in now shaking hands. The first photo was of a group of people who had just stepped off a plane. Most of them were civilians, including the pilot, but there near the center was a blonde woman in a uniform. Not the Devil, but her left hand. Then, his eyes spotted someone off to the side of the group. A young girl in shorts, a light sleeveless shirt, short boots, and a cap. She was looking away from the camera, out over the tarmac, but the side profile of her face was unmistakable.

Jack flipped to the next photo—a second, much closer shot of the blonde woman in a Brasa uniform, wearing captain rank insignia and with a note at the bottom naming her as Mage Captain Viktoriya Ivanovna Serebryakov. He quickly flipped again and again, through individual shots of everyone there, until he got to her.

She stared into the camera, off the paper, and directly into Jack's soul. She was smiling at something off camera, given her head was turned slightly off center, but her eyes were locked right onto the camera. Those were not the eyes of a little girl. Something deep inside him recognized the eyes of a predator when he saw one—even if this one was safely in a photograph and not face to face.

At the bottom of the photo was a note which read, Tanya Serebryakov. Capt. Serebryakov claimed this was her little sister.

"Tanya?" Jack murmured, the name ringing a bell. Opening his desk drawer, he took out a folder recovered from the Imperials. They had deleted and destroyed everything they had on Salamander and the 203rd, at least directly. What they hadn't counted on was anyone going after the tax records. And 'Tanya' was such an uncommon name, being a derivative of the Russy 'Tatiana' sometimes seen on the eastern border of the Empire, that it stood out.

A few moments later, Jack had what he as looking for. The Imperials loved to keep records of everything and their filing system was not just meticulous, but if you understood it you could tell exactly where someone in the government worked just by looking at the codes.

Captain Viktoriya Ivanovna Serebryakov. The tax filing number was a sequence of digits that started off as marking her forms as coming from the Imperial Army, what branch, a sequence that had never made sense before now, and finally an individual number for Viktoriya herself ending in AM-C—Aerial Mage, Conscript.

Digging through more paperwork, Jack began pulling out everything containing that third sequence and putting them together. Until finally, he came to what he was hoping to find. And with it, he cracked the filing code.

Lt. Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff. Imperial Army. General Staff Office. Salamander Battle Group. TD24091914F (Tanya Degurechaff, DOB: Sept. 24, 1914, Female). Aerial Mage. Volunteer.

Jack was pulled from his moment of triumph by the phone ringing. Picking it up, he absently answered, "Jack Thompson."

"Jack," his boss began, and Jack winced, "you're late. If you need to cancel—"

"No. No! I just got confirmation on something. You'll want to hear it for yourself. I'll be up in two minutes!"

Hanging up, he gathered the photos and paperwork and rushed for the elevator. I can prove she's alive! Now, I just need to prove how she's connected to the satellites.