A Young Girl's Guerilla War

by RagnartheSemiGreen

Tanya dies in an artillery barrage on the Rhine Front, contrary to both her and Being X's plans. Unwilling to let his chew toy escape so easily, Being X reincarnates Tanya back into Japan... Six years before Britannia conquers Area 11. (First posted on Space Battles)

20. Chapter 19: A Training Arc (Pt 3)

Chapter 19: A Training Arc (Part 3)

(A big thank you to Siatru, and to Sunny, and to the two (or three) Anons from the Guerrilla Discord for beta reading this chapter.)

APRIL 9, 2016 ATB

"THE SCHOOL" TRAINING FACILITY
0928

The Kanayamazawa River, swollen with snowmelt, lapped at the base of my training boulder, beneath my dangling feet. Spring had well and truly come to Gunma Prefecture, and even the "Japanese Alps" of inland Honshu couldn't resist the growing warmth forever.

Ohgi stood next to the boulder, trying without success to skip stones across the fast moving stream. Even if the water's surface had been as still and flat as a mediation pond, I doubted he would have been particularly successful, considering the lack of any real finesse on display. I considered correcting his throwing motion, perhaps trying to demonstrate the correct way to flick the wrist and send a river-smoothed stone across the water, but decided against it. The quiet of the moment, broken only by the burbling of the shallow river over its rocky bed, was too precious to be squandered on a pointless lesson.

Besides, Ohgi looked like he was enjoying tossing stones into the river. Who was I to disturb his fun? It's not like we were on the clock, at least not for another few hours.

My team had finally returned to The School late yesterday afternoon, after taking a long and circuitous route out of Niigata Prefecture. By the time we had finally returned to our secret outpost in the backwoods of Nakanojo, the Sun had already set behind the mountains and the shadows had lengthened under the cedars.

Despite our late arrival, Ohgi, master of fostering intra-organizational cooperation, had a congratulatory feast waiting. He'd dipped into organizational funds to provide an extra nice meal, with pork cutlets and fresh rice instead of the usual boiled cabbage and porridge. He'd even gone far enough to buy a dozen bottles of cheap but potent liquor, presumably distilled in some backwoods shack by a furtive local.

Frankly, I had just been relieved that the party Ohgi had set up would delay any serious conversation until the next day. Seizing the opportunity with both hands, I had proclaimed that the next day's morning training would be canceled, and all of the recruits of both classes could do as they wished with their free time, to general acclaim.

As expected, come the morning, most of the recruits, and Nagata, were still in their barracks, nursing ferocious hangovers.

Notable in his absence was Major Onoda. Almost as soon as I had returned, he had vanished, delaying his departure only long enough to get a quick report on the operation. I could only assume that he had returned to the nearest JLF installation to convey the news of our successful mission to the mysterious leader of his faction, Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe. I wished Onoda all the best at milking the opportunity for every bit of glory that he could manage; the better he was rewarded, the more generous he would hopefully be when the next round of negotiations began.

It was Ohgi who brought the mid-morning peace to an end. He had woken up around the same time that I had, and had followed me to my private practice spot. I'd made it clear that I'd not been in much of a mood to talk, and he'd obligingly remained silent for the last twenty minutes.

Throwing the last of his collected semi-smooth stones into the river with a desultory plop, Ohgi brushed his hands off against his jeans and turned towards me. I kept my gaze fixed on the water splashing against a small cluster of rocks in the middle of the stream, and wondered how long it would take for one of the cluster to be pulled away from the rest and pulled under.

"I wanted to congratulate you personally, Tanya," Ohgi began, his tone calm and seemingly earnest, "I've spoken with both Yoshi and Tsubaki, and they were both very impressed with your overall leadership."

I could hear the unspoken "but..." just as clearly as I could hear the raven croaking in the trees somewhere across the river. I knew that Ohgi was too soft a touch, and for that matter too Japanese, to bring up my failings directly without dancing around them enough to soften the blow. Instead of letting him proceed, I decided to adopt a technique I hoped he would respect as a teacher.

"I learned two things from the mission, Ohgi," I began, turning away from the river and its endless war on the resisting stones and towards my comrade. "The first is that allowing the enemy any chance to fight back is foolish; the second is that we need better equipment to be effective."

Ohgi raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure you already knew that first lesson, Tanya – you didn't exactly give the Kokuryu-kai much of a warning." He smiled faintly at that, and I smiled back. The station, for all it had been a small slice of an all too familiar hell, had been brilliantly executed, and I felt justly proud of it. I should feel proud – I didn't lose anybody on that mission.

The smile went away.

"You're right," I sighed, trying to figure out how to pin down what I was trying to say, "but it seems like I required a refresher."

Ohgi didn't respond, but the polite silence somehow pried the words out of me. "I rushed this mission, Ohgi. While the basic objective was successfully completed, if I had taken an extra day or two to plan and improve on the groundwork, I could have greatly improved the mission's outcome."

I took a deep, cleansing breath, and let the emotion flow out with the exhale before continuing, sinking into the cadence familiar from so many post-mission debriefings before.

"Squad 2, after deploying from the van, rapidly advanced through downtown Minamiuonuma to the City Hall. Once there, they proceeded to their primary target, the Mayor's Office, only to find him absent. While they were able to liquidate his deputy and his secretary, missing the mayor was an unfortunate failure. They proceeded to the secondary target of the Municipal Archives, destroyed all the computers they could find and piled up and burnt all blueprints and records they could in the three minute window available. Then, they exited Town Hall and encountered between twenty and thirty Honorary Britannian police dispatched from the Minamiuonuma central police station. While Squad 2 was easily able to suppress the police with small arms fire, they were bogged down and were compelled to retreat back to the van for extraction."

"It sounds like they were very successful," Ohgi replied mildly, holding up a hand and ticking points off on his extended fingers, "They occupied the available police in the city center, keeping them away from the radio station, which was the primary goal. They managed to disrupt the municipal government, which was a secondary goal at best. They managed to retreat in good order without so much as a bruise."

"True," I acknowledged, "but it could have gone better, as could Squad 1's side of the operation."

I closed my eyes for a moment and took another deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale.

"Squad 1 successfully detonated the bombs at Shiozawa Station and at the ambush site on Prefectural Route 124. Unfortunately, the pipe bomb was insufficient to destroy the first APC, although it was able to sufficiently damage the wheels that the vehicle was immobilized, blocking the second APC as well. Similarly, the RPGs Squad 1 had on hand proved insufficient to penetrate the vehicles' armor, and the mercenaries were able to exit the vehicles, which they took cover behind. While Squad 1 was able to complete their objective by preventing the deployment of the mercenary unit to the city center, they were unable to smoothly withdraw, due to a flanking pincer attack by the mercenaries who took advantage of nearby farm buildings for cover, rapidly forcing Squad 1 back. During this time Squad 1 took forty percent casualties and were forced to retreat to the woods on foot, where they took evasive action."

I was proud that my voice had remained cool and collected all the way through, barring a slight hitch at the word "casualties". Ohgi had maintained eye contact as I had completed my summation, nodding at each point. I did my best to ignore the pained look at the closing sentence; Ohgi had probably done a better job getting to know Sumire and Manabu – he was always talking with the recruits, always taking the time to chat whenever he wasn't conducting a lesson.

"So," I continued, keeping my War College demeanor as I approached the next section of the debriefing process, "in regards to lessons learned, we can observe two main points: First, better preparations would likely have improved mission outcomes; Second, better equipment is necessary for future engagements with Britannian armored troops."

Ohgi frowned slightly, but nodded. "Both of those are valid lessons to take from this mission, Tanya. But, aren't you forgetting the old adage that 'perfect is the enemy of good enough'? You managed to complete your mission successfully – isn't that good enough?"

"No!" With a burst of motion, the ravens across the river startled into flight, irate caws resounding as they took wing. I could feel the heat spreading across my cheeks, but pushed on, forcing myself to continue at a more reasonable volume. "No, Ohgi, it wasn't good enough. This was only barely a success – a C-grade at best! - and only a single step on a long, long road! I lost twenty percent of my fighting strength against a pack of washouts with surplus gear – if that had been a real Royal Britannian Army formation, Squad 1 would all be dead! All of them, not just the two that I did lose because I didn't plan well enough!"

I realized I was shouting again. The fact that Ohgi just took it without even looking angry just made it worse. Damn you, puberty, for making me sound like a stupid, unprofessional child!

With a last shudder of anger at myself, at my inability to be good enough I finally managed to get my treacherous mouth back under control, and after a moment of struggle managed to regain a semblance of calm. "That said, the focus on mobility is clearly a winning strategy. Hit and run attacks are likely to be the meat of our operations going forwards. Still, there is plenty of room for improvement; better intelligence would act as a force multiplier, as would sabotage. If I could have disabled the APCs before the mercenaries even attempted to deploy, or found some way to render the mercenaries unable or unwilling to fight, that would have achieved the objective at a far lower price."

Oghi nodded at that. "You have a point there, Tanya; if possible, we should look into ways of sabotaging the enemy before they can even fight."

"We also need to improve our kit for when the time comes to fight." As much as I loved the idea of preventing the enemy from deploying at all, I knew it to be a hopeless fantasy at best, a potentially dangerous distraction at worst.

"In the future, it's almost guaranteed that we will have to handle Britannia's Knightmares – and our current gear couldn't even deal with retired APCs. We need dedicated anti-armor and anti-vehicle weapons if we want any chance of victory against Britannia in the long term."

Ohgi winced at that, and nodded with fervent enthusiasm. "Yoshi said something similar when I spoke with him last night." He noticed my questioning expression, and hastily explained, "He wasn't pleased with how ineffective the RPGs were. He'd hoped they'd be enough to take out at least one of the vehicles, but..." Ohgi shrugged helplessly, and I nodded my understanding.

I bet Yoshi was a hell of a lot more than "wasn't pleased" at the time...

"And..." Ohgi looked away for a moment, took a deep breath, and re-established eye contact, "And... How are you feeling, Tanya? Really, how are you feeling? I told you I spoke with Yoshi and Tsubaki last night, and they were very impressed with your leadership, but Yoshi said that he'd been very surprised at how... enthusiastically... you greeted him at the shrine, and Tsubaki told me how quiet you were all the way back from Minamiuonuma..."

Ohgi took another deep breath, and slowly reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. "And... this is the first time you've lost someone under your command, right, Tanya? How are you feeling?"

I bit down on my tongue, fighting back the immediate impulse to take the easy way out by claiming "I'm fine." Even if it was true, instantly replying to such a loaded question would have clearly shown a lack of consideration, which would indicate either that I was being deliberately rude, or that I was unwilling to think about the question, and thus was not, in fact, fine. Instead, I took a moment to think, and to try to get my thoughts in order. Ohgi quietly waited, seemingly as patient as the river flowing past us.

"I am... upset," I haltingly began, trying to disentangle the knot of painful emotions with the cool scalpel of logical analysis, "Because I lost two trained fighters immediately after they had completed their training. This loss represents a waste of the time, energy, and expense involved in training them, an investment with very little return..."

I swallowed hard, pushing down the lump in my throat. While the loss of two good students and promising comrades was a regrettable waste of resources, the thought lacked any emotional resonance. But... What can I say? I'm sorry that Sumire will never know her son? I wish Manabu had made up with his partner before he left? This is war. People die. If I can't handle it...

I didn't think Ohgi would reject me, or try to force me out or anything. That was absurd. But I could see him trying, with the best of intentions, to move me over more towards the Benevolent Association side of the organization, away from combat operations. While I would typically be overjoyed with an easy assignment to the rear like that, and much as I would like to never fight again, to never risk my life... It was too early for any such reassignment. I knew where I could best help the Kozuki Organization, and at the moment it was as a strategic planner and tactical asset.

But from what I knew of Ohgi and his relentless pursuit of what he felt was right... I doubted that he would see things the same way, especially if he felt like I couldn't handle the pressure.

"I wish that it hadn't turned out this way," I continued. That much is true, at least. "I know and understand that loss is part of combat leadership, but I feel like the objective Sumire and Manabu died to accomplish was not worth the cost we paid."

Looking back on it, just disabling the APCs would have been more than enough to hinder the deployment of the Britannian goon squad – I should have told Squad 1 to fall back at that point, instead of trading fire to keep the mercenaries pinned. "I feel like I could have done a better job planning out the operation and found a way to achieve the same goals without the loss. I am angry at myself for this failure." Again, entirely true, and that should be enough probable cause to get Ohgi to drop it.

"In regards to my unprofessional conduct yesterday morning," I moved on, taking the bull by the horns and confronting my failings when it came to Yoshi's dawn arrival. I figured this might actually be a point that Ohgi, as the nearest thing the Kozuki Organization had to an HR manager, was concerned about, and so I did my best to express contrition. "I regret intruding on Yoshi's personal space; there was no excuse for it, and I will apologize to him when next I see him."

Ohgi had unaccountably begun to frown as I apologized. Wincing internally, I tried to explain the circumstances without sounding like I was trying to excuse my bad behavior. "I was feeling very worn out and tired, due to the stress of the operation the day before and the sleepless night. I had woken up worried about the three members of Squad 1. When I saw that they had arrived safely and intact, I forgot my manners. It will not happen again. The stress and worry was also why I declined to interact with anybody on the way back – I was concerned that my anxiety would lead me to further incivility."

Ohgi sighed and looked away, rubbing at his forehead with the base of his palm. "Well, Tanya... I'm sure everything you've said was completely true..." With a groan, he turned back to me with a complicated expression that I only saw for a moment, before it melted away as he made eye contact once again. I couldn't mistake that sympathetic look for anything else. "I'm happy to see that you're dealing with the loss so well. I'm proud of you."

What? Why?! I squandered two lives on a proxy mission given by a bastard so untrustworthy that he's actively conspiring against his boss's boss! Why would you be proud of me? I fucked up!

Somehow, Ohgi seemed to have noticed my disbelief. "I'm very proud of you, Tanya," he repeated firmly, "you did an excellent job, and I know that Sumire and Manabu would agree. They trusted you, Tanya, just like Nagata does and the rest of your friends do. I don't think they would say you squandered them – they knew the risks when they signed up, just like all the rest of us."

I tried to take consolation from that, but I couldn't. Who can speak for the dead? The living have a vested interest in putting words in their mouths. I'll never know if Sumire or Manabu would have agreed to die in rice paddies on the fringe of an unimportant city, and neither does Ohgi.

"For what it's worth," Ohgi continued, a light smile breaking the tension of the moment slightly, "I don't think Yoshi's at all bothered about your surprise hug. Personally, I think he was just shocked, and maybe a touch embarrassed – you don't need to apologize to him about it."

I forced an answering smile, to let Oghi I'd gotten the message. I didn't know why Ohgi thought the breach of protocol wasn't worth worrying about, considering how touch sensitive Japanese culture was, but if the officer in charge of intra-organizational matters said I didn't need to feel guilty about the matter, I would take his word for it. One less thing to worry about, I suppose.

Ohgi apparently decided to end on a high note with that piece of good news, insignificant though it was. He turned and started picking his way over the shingles of the beach towards the treeline and the path back to The School.

I watched him go for a moment, just to make sure that he wouldn't trip over any of the stones, before turning back out to the river. I still had another two hours of free time before I had to attend a meeting with the eighteen trainee squad leaders to work out the next week's chore assignments, and I saw no need to return to The School so much as a minute early.

Behind me, the sounds of rocks crunching underfoot stopped far too early for Ohgi to have made more than a few meters away. "...Tanya?" I half-turned, just far enough to see Ohgi out of my peripheral vision. "I'm very proud of you, but I know you'll do better next time around. Nobody's perfect, and we're all constantly learning and improving. I have complete confidence that you'll improve too."

I turned to face Ohgi entirely, and hopped down off the boulder. Half a year ago, I'd have thought that was a veiled threat... I would have heard an unstated "or else" at the end of that last sentence... In retrospect, I really was being very unfair to Ohgi. I found that I didn't need to force a smile as I picked my way over the river-smoothed stones to my friend. I can't say I approve of his blithe certainty, but... I'll do my best to prove his foolish optimism correct.

"Thank you for your confidence, Oghi," I clapped him on the shoulder as I walked past, somewhat surprised to realize that it wasn't as much of a reach as it had once been, "let's go check in on our trainees and see if anybody's brave enough to 'volunteer' for an optional fun run to get the blood flowing!"

APRIL 16, 2016 ATB

"THE SCHOOL" TRAINING FACILITY

Almost a week after his sudden departure, Major Onoda reappeared with equal abruptness. He swaggered out of the woods just before lunchtime, his uniform neatly pressed and his puttees spotless. I could only assume that whatever hidden entrance to the JLF's subterranean tunnel network he had emerged from was remarkably close to school grounds, for him to have escaped the omnipresent springtime mud.

Onoda's attitude of smug self-satisfaction remained entirely intact when I joined him in the former principal's office for our scheduled meeting. I very swiftly learned the reason for Onoda's barely contained joy; almost before the door had closed behind me, the JLF officer's typical formality cracked.

"Ah, Miss Hajime, such a pleasure to see you again," Before I could respond to Onoda's surprisingly pleasant greeting, he had already moved on; clearly, etiquette was not high on his list of concerns for the evening. "I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that the first wave of recruits from Niigata and Toyama Prefectures have already found their way to the Front. Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe swore in the largest single batch of recruits we've had in four years last night."

I tilted my head respectfully as I lowered myself down onto the waiting pillow. "That must be a very nice feather in his cap; please pass my congratulations on to the Colonel." Judging by how Onoda had phrased the news, it sounded like Kusakabe had managed to induct the lion's share of the first wave directly into his faction. General Katase must be really losing his grip if Kusakabe's getting this bold.

"He will be pleased to hear it, I am sure." Onoda smirked for a moment, before thankfully answering a question I had been somewhat afraid to ask. "In light of the recent swelling in our ranks, General Katase has opted to extend official recognition to your operation in Niigata. Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe has, of course, been awarded a formal commendation for the operation and subsequent recruitment boost."

I smiled politely as I winced internally at Katase's unforced blunder. True, the leader of the JLF had been put on the horns of a thorny dilemma – either punish the officer whose boldness had led to the influx of fresh blood, or reward that officer for his rank insubordination – but my sympathy was limited; Katase had given Kusakabe far too much freedom and hadn't bothered to keep an eye on his clearly ambitious subordinate. And now he's been forced to publicly applaud Kusakabe's actions just to try and save face, all but guaranteeing Kusakabe's going to do the same thing again. It's the Kwantung Army all over again. For my sake, I could only hope my alliance of convenience with the JLF had run its course before they decided to invade China in the name of a defensible frontier.

"Truly, you outdid yourself, Miss Hajime," Onoda continued, mustache wriggling across his unusually expressive face, emotionless facade abandoned in light of this moment of triumph I had handed to his faction. "I will admit, I had my doubts if you and your militia would be able to successfully complete your mission, but you exceeded my wildest hopes."

A vicious smile crossed the Major's face as he leaned in over the low table between us. "Niigata Prefecture is spiraling out of Britannian control, thanks to your handling of affairs in Minamiuonuma City! The farmers and townsfolk of the prefecture have realized how weak the local minions of Prince Clovis truly are, and have begun to take matters into their own hands – every night for the past week, at least one house belonging to the family of an Honorary Britannian policeman has gone up in flames, sometimes with the family still inside! Lone collaborators are disappearing and being found dangling from trees or crammed into trash cans! Finally..." Onoda leaned back on his haunches, a smile that edged on the precipice of glee on his face, "Finally, the true sons of Japan are rising up against the running dog scum of Britannia!"

"I assume that the reprisals have begun?" I was more or less certain I already knew the answer, but I was curious what Onoda's opinion was about the likely hundreds of "true sons of Japan" that were paying for these impromptu attacks. "I find it hard to believe that the Britannian Army garrison in Niigata City has just been sitting back and watching as the trees sprout fruit overnight."

Onoda laughed at that. "Oh yes, they certainly have tried to smash the defiance back out of Niigata's people in the usual way. The crematories have been kept tragically busy, and at least one village has been entirely emptied." He leaned back in towards me with an almost conspiratorial air. "But the locals have gotten better and better at escaping into the woods when a Britannian column approaches. Many of the younger local men have even ended up finding their way to JLF outposts, ready and willing to join up to avenge these fresh Britannian atrocities! And the hangings continue! The Britannians are flailing about, but they lose more lackeys every day, and the number of recruits who remember Japan and sign up with us just keeps growing!"

It was difficult to keep the polite smile on my face as I nodded appreciatively along with Onoda's words. It was a dirty truth of guerrilla war that one of the greatest beneficiaries of atrocities committed by occupying powers were the local insurgents; the hatred generated by poorly disciplined soldiers or short-sighted officers lashing out was the fuel that the engines of rebellion thirstily drank. I was a beneficiary of this same truth, as most of my recruits had signed up in the aftermath of the Christmas Incident. That said...

I'd never been gleeful about it. I'd never laughed about it. I lived it, Major Onoda. I could have been one of the hundred civilians put up against a wall to pay the debt for a single Britannian's blood. But you've spent the years since the Conquest in a bunker, safe from that fate... Haven't you, Major?

"My congratulations to Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe, Major Onoda," I choked out with difficulty, "I imagine this sort of popular resistance does a great deal to strengthen his position when it comes to arguing in favor of a more aggressive policy."

Onoda beamed, utterly failing to conceal his naked delight at the horrors Kusakabe would undoubtedly try to unleash from his new position of strength. "Indeed! General Katase soon will be compelled to admit that the Day of Liberation is nearly at hand! Even 'Tohdoh of Miracles' cannot dispute that the momentum is starting to turn in our favor at long last!"

"My group and I would love to assist Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe with bringing the Day of Liberation upon us all the sooner," I replied, taking the opportunity to pivot away from gloating about past success into laying the groundwork for future operations, "but the most recent mission, successful though it was, revealed a significant flaw in the current doctrine and equipment of my organization."

Onoda raised an eyebrow, joy receding slightly now that matters of business were at hand. "Oh? It seems to my superiors and I that your little band did a more than adequate job with your current equipment. What's this flaw you claim to have uncovered?"

"We lack specially equipped anti-armor units, Major," I replied, smoothly ignoring the implied insult in his response. Amazing how short-lived gratitude can be – from "outdoing ourselves" to "more than adequate" in minutes! "While we were able to complete the JLF's objective with the Niigata Mission, the anti-personnel and light anti-vehicle munitions we used were only marginally effective against outdated armored vehicles. As the Britannian Army heavily fields Knightmare Frames, as well as other armored units, an effective anti-armor weapon will be necessary to deal damage to regular Britannian units."

Onoda hummed his agreement, before tapping on the table. "That is a good point, Miss Hajime, and your organization's primary value to the JLF is as a deniable unit for use against the Britannians. Training and equipping your organization to the point where you're actually dangerous to the foreign invaders would be useful towards that end."

I nodded my careful agreement. Onoda was, unfortunately, accurate – the Kozuki Organization was best used as an enabler of his faction's ongoing campaign of gekokujo, which also implied that we were both deniable and disposable. Since we both already agreed on that point, that statement of fact clearly wasn't the other shoe dropping. Wait for it...

"On the other hand," Onoda continued, "you still owe me another mission for the past three month's worth of logistical support. If you want access to the JLF's stockpile of anti-armor weaponry, not to mention ongoing logistical support for your fresh cohort of recruits..." There it is.

"Of course, Major Onoda," I had been waiting and preparing for this resumption of negotiations for months, and it was almost a relief that it had finally come. While the JLF still held most of the cards for this round, I wasn't coming to the table quite as empty handed as I had the first time around.

During the first round of negotiations, I had been representing an organization that was coming to the JLF as a new hire – one that had a recommendation from a senior partner, but a new hire nonetheless. I had little to offer at that point, and Major Onoda had been blatant in his disrespect and distaste for my organization in general and myself in particular. Now, I was representing an established contractor of sorts, one that had proven it could complete complex and high stress projects and could use resources efficiently. Besides that, I was a known quantity to the Major; he still might not particularly like me, but at least he wasn't dismissing me out of hand on the basis of my hair color and gender.

"During the time that you have spent assisting with the instruction of my recruits, you have consistently expressed your interest in blooding the trainees as part of their instruction," Indeed, it had been the one point that Onoda Hiroo had brought up over and over again, insisting that the lack of killing only produced half-baked soldiers. If nothing else, that sort of singular focus indicated a potential lever.

"I am still dubious about the efficacy of blooding tomorrow's soldiers by killing bound civilian targets, as stabbing bound men and women has little in common with defeating armed opponents, but I agree that some seasoning would improve the training program."

"As such, in exchange for ongoing logistical support for The School, as liaison for the JLF, you would have the right to give each graduating cohort of trainees a mission with objectives set as you see fit, contingent on approval from myself or another officer." Much as I hated to admit it, for all of his faults Onoda was a highly capable soldier, an expert scout, a skilled intelligence operator, and a surprisingly effective trainer. Giving him what he wanted would probably end up as a net benefit for both my organization and the JLF. I just hate giving him the win... But such is the negotiation process.

Besides... there was no way I would give him carte blanche to send my comrades into danger, at least not without sign-off from Naoto, Ohgi, or myself. I had not spent months of my time training up a new cohort of soldiers just to watch them be squandered in the name of appeasing Onoda's blood lust.

Onoda sucked noncommittally through his teeth, but I could tell by the glint in his eye that he was interested. And now that I've given him what he wanted, let's see if he'll meet me halfway...

"And I suppose if I am blooding your trainees by sending them after objectives important to the JLF, it would be in our benefit to train and equip them with anti-armor weapons," Onoda mused aloud, nodding his head. "Yes, I suppose I could sell that point to my superiors... You do understand that this doesn't get you out of your obligation to personally complete a second mission, yes?"

I tilted my head at an appropriately deferential angle, and carefully made sure no hint of the internal sense of triumph touched my face. "Of course, Major. And I am ready to deploy on that mission at your convenience."

"Excellent," the smirk had returned to Onoda's face, "I happen to have a job at hand that I think would be perfect for you, and would give your recruits a chance to familiarize themselves with those anti-armor weapons you seem so taken by."

It was fortunate that my head was still tilted forward, since I don't think I could have concealed the spasm of anger that flashed across my face. Dammit! I knew that was way too easy! The bastard walked me into this! He'd been planning on giving me anti-tank weapons the whole time! Yet another reminder that it was a mistake to think of Onoda as a mere bloodthirsty monster – he unquestionably was a murderous piece of work, but he was also lethally intelligent. I had no idea he was playing me! He must be incredible at poker!

"I'm glad to hear that," I replied, hastily reassembling my polite smile and looking up to reestablish eye contact. "What's the objective this time?"

Onoda's smirk once again faded in favor of a more serious expression. He's a professional, even if he is a petty bastard. "The JLF has intercepted intelligence that, in response to the ongoing violence in Niigata, the Prefect of Nagano plans on establishing a number of bases along entry points into Nagano from Niigata to prevent any spillover into his territory. Apparently he's concerned about bands of rebels and bandits hanging his policemen and interfering with planting season."

I nodded. That seemed like a sensible enough approach – improving fortifications at choke points along the border and supplementing patrols of the interior would make it more difficult to operate openly. Whichever lord had been appointed as the Prefect of Nagano was clearly either competent or willing to listen to competent advisors.

"One of the smaller new garrisons will be located in the village of Sakae," Onoda continued, "at the border of Nagano and Niigata Prefectures. It also happens to sit on the main train line through the Hida Mountains, as well as on the intersection of Route 117 and Prefectural Routes 238 and 507. It's got a population of around two thousand Japanese, so the Prefect is sending a company of Knightmares – five squads of four – and a battalion of infantry, plus attached support units."

"It sounds like the Prefect chose his new base's location quite well," I replied. From what I dimly remembered of Nagano's geography, Sakae was in the extreme northeast of the prefecture, but based on Onoda's description it was a natural choke point. The valley it sat in was the only efficient way through the so-called "Japanese Alps", and the intersection of multiple prefectural routes would give the garrison the ability to lock down most traffic in the area with ease.

Onoda nodded. "He did indeed. That said, the base isn't fully established yet – the infantry have already set up in the location, but the Knightmare company hasn't been dispatched yet. We have received word that the first squad of that company will be escorting two trucks full of maintenance tools and spare parts for Knightmare Frames from Nagano City to Sakae in two days. Stealing those supplies would be of great value to the JLF, and would give us time to move units through the choke point from Niigata and Gunma into Nagano, before the Knightmares arrive and complicate the situation."

I nodded vaguely, turning the situation over in my mind. This was definitely a priority mission, since removing a dug-in military installation in a mountain valley without aerial support would be tricky at best, and almost impossible if a company of highly agile Knightmares were on scene to support the infantry units.

That said... I hadn't seen a Knightmare in person since the second year after the Conquest, when the Britannians had finished crushing the last resurgence of organized resistance in Shinjuku. They were figures that stalked my memories of the Conquest and the brutal times that had followed after, though, and I remembered endless stories of how effortlessly Britannian Knightmares had destroyed the Japanese Army. I wasn't eager to tangle with the mechanical monsters of Britannia myself.

But if not now, when? It's got to come sometime... And I can't exactly turn this mission down without burning my value in Onoda's eyes...

"Do you need the Knightmares or the trucks, or only the cargo?" I asked, trying to focus on the concrete details of the task at hand. "And do you know the intended route and timetable?"

As it turned out, Onoda's source had given him all the information I would need. A few minutes later, we agreed to meet again tomorrow afternoon after the last training session of the day so I could present my intended strategy. For better or worse, I was committed to my first mission with Knightmares attached to the opposition.

APRIL 18, 2016 ATB

SAKAE, NAGANO
0527

Corporal Martin Lancaster, of the 4th Support Regiment, was not having a good day. As he stepped down from the cab of the truck, he was filled with the horrible certainty that it was about to get significantly worse.

Lancaster had found out late the night before that he had drawn the miserable duty of accompanying a delivery of spare parts out into the mountainous hinterlands, courtesy of the chief of the Knightmare Maintenance section. When Lancaster had asked why the Logistics boys had needed his company for a routine delivery, he'd been informed that the Powers That Be had decided that the Sakae outpost would have a Knightmare repair bay attached, and that part of the standard paperwork for such a facility was the sign-off of a rated technician.

Since Martin had been out on leave yesterday when that decision had been handed down from on high, he hadn't been in the room at the time, and some bastard had volunteered him for the duty. A duty, he'd been irritated to learn, scheduled to begin at four the next morning when the delivery convoy was scheduled to leave Nagano Barracks with an escort of Knightmares.

Needless to say, come the next morning, Corporal Lancaster hadn't been looking or feeling his best when he had reported in to the lieutenant commanding the escorting Knightmare squad. Despite the purpose of the convoy being an almost purely logistical matter, Lieutenant McPherson had wound up in command of the operation by dint of claiming that, as the trucks were transporting spare parts and maintenance tools for Knightmare Frames, the convoy should be under the authority of the local expert on Knightmares.

Personally, Martin suspected that the officer, as both a noble and a Knightmare pilot and so doubly arrogant, would rather lick his Frame clean than take orders from a common-born Logistics Corps oik. Neither of the truck drivers had felt the need to argue with the man, and so the little convoy had set out on the hour and a half drive to Sakae Village.

The drive had been quiet, and the roads nearly empty so early in the morning. Martin had been halfway to napping in the passenger seat of the lead truck when the radio had suddenly crackled to life only ten minutes out from their destination.

"Lance Lead to all units! Halt immediately! Suspected explosive device identified. Over"

Martin's drowsiness had vanished as the icy claws of shock sank into his shoulders and back. He'd fumbled for the radio, checking the channel and flipping the switch to transmit as the driver immediately began to slow to a halt. "C-copy that, Lance Lead," he had stuttered into the microphone, "Location of the device? Over."

"Look on the right side of the road by the tunnel and it should be obvious. Over." Internally cursing the noble prick, Martin did as he was bid, and had immediately understood the lieutenant's concern. A hundred yards ahead of the leading pair of Knightmares, a tunnel gaped, the darkness of the interior barely dented by the dim line of light fixtures, half of which were burnt out and in need of repair. Just barely outside the tunnel's entrance, an oil drum lay on its side, blue paint chipped away to reveal rusting sides. A few pieces of garbage were scattered around the drum, and maybe the wire protruding from one side of it was just another piece of such garbage.

Or perhaps not.

Martin had licked his suddenly dry lips. 'It's probably just garbage,' he had reminded himself, 'nothing to worry about.' But if it wasn't... He'd shaken his head, trying to force the thought from his mind. There were other ways to get to Sakae – less efficient, admittedly, but still there. That said, showing up late because of some roadside garbage wouldn't look good either...

As if to respond to his thought, the radio had crackled back to life, and said exactly what Martin had been afraid it would. "Lance Lead to Truck 1. Send the passenger out on foot to visually inspect the drum. Go see if that wire connects to anything. Over."

The driver had glanced sidelong over at Martin, who suddenly felt completely unable to move. The logistics man reached over, flicked the transmit switch, and replied. "Roger that, Lance Lead, he's on his way." Flicking the switch off, the driver had shrugged apologetically at Martin. "Guess you drew the short straw, eh? C'mon, get out before that prick starts pissin' over us all."

And now, Martin found himself slowly walking up the road, doing his best to conceal the nerve-wracking tension. The escorting Knightmares, and the asshole lieutenant commanding them, were already yards behind him. Ahead, the dark mouth of the tunnel loomed, the drum protruding like a broken tooth.

'Why the hell is the tunnel so dark?' Martin wondered, deliberately not thinking about how many pounds of high explosive and nails could conceivably be crammed into an oil drum. 'This is a priority road – DPW should've changed out those bulbs months ago!'

In all likelihood, if funds had ever been allocated for maintenance of the Route 117 Tunnel, Martin was all but certain they'd been immediately embezzled – the Directorate of Public Works was infamously corrupt. Which explained why the only infrastructure projects making any progress in the Area were the ones the Governor had taken a personal interest in, like the MagLev extensions. And, of course, the roads and rails feeding the Sakuradite mining complexes.

Suddenly, Martin found himself only ten feet or so from the drum. He looked back over his shoulder, and could almost feel the lieutenant glaring at him through the Sutherland's Factsphere, demanding him to "hurry up and get on with it!" Swallowing, he turned back to the drum, horribly aware that his body armor was only rated for small caliber rounds and shrapnel, not explosive devices meant to take out vehicles.

'Why the hell am I having to do this?' Martin raged as he tried to muster up the will to take another step forward, and then another. 'There's gotta be some Elevens around here – farmers, or loggers, or whatever! Why the hell didn't the lieutenant just give us the permission to grab one of them to play human minesweeper, huh? I'm a goddamned certified Knightmare tech – a rated maintenance professional! This kinda shit is Number work!"

The drum was at Martin's feet, and his heart was in his mouth. Praying to a God who suddenly felt all too close, Martin slowly, carefully, knelt down before the drum, and leaned to the side. The damp air wafting out of the tunnel felt clammy and cold, even colder than the mountain air, and Martin shivered uncontrollably as cold wet fingers ran across the nape of his exposed neck. He couldn't see anything in the dark interior of the barrel, just that wire, snaking away...

Martin suddenly remembered the small flashlight built into the side of his visor, and felt like an idiot. Flicking it on, Corporal Lancaster abruptly felt all the tension and dread flow out of him. The drum was full of smashed up concrete and bent rebar – clearly the results of some sort of demolition. With an experimental jerk, the wire came loose in his hands, revealing itself to just be a simple piece of overlooked scrap protruding from the garbage.

Flicking the light off, Martin got back to his knees, dusting his gloved hands off before activating the radio built into his helmet. "Corporal Lancaster to Lance Lead, the barrel's full of busted concrete. Someone's demolishing something, and a barrel probably fell off the truck they were using to haul away the debris, over."

A moment later, the lieutenant responded. "Lance Lead here. If that's the case, quit standing around like a fool and get back in the truck. This nonsense has put us behind schedule – and I hate being late. Over."

Martin acknowledged the junior officer and major pain in the ass's order and began walking back to the truck. Now that the stress of potential death via explosion had receded, it was quite a nice morning for a walk – the air was pleasantly crisp, the sound of the wind in the cedars a pleasant accompaniment to the early morning birdsong, and the perfume of the spring flowers hung heavily. 'Maybe today will be a good day after all.'

APRIL 18, 2016 ATB

SAKAE, NAGANO
0530

Senior Lieutenant Kenneth McPherson drummed his fingers impatiently as that oaf Lancaster slowly made his way back to the truck, before taking his sweet time to climb back into the cab. Almost as soon as the door closed behind the insolent pissant, Kenneth's index finger was jabbing at the 'transmit' button on his Knightmare's instrument panel. "Lance Lead to Convoy – advance in formation, over."

Beneath him, the Yggdrasil Drive whirred to life, and Kenneth could practically see the Core Luminous spinning with increasing speed in his mind's eye as his majestic Sutherland cruised into the tunnel. From the corner of his eye, Kenneth noticed the engravings of flowers, mountains, and the old crest of Nagano Prefecture, and grimaced with disgust. 'An old Eleven tunnel, built before the Conquest... It's amazing the damned thing is still passable."

The mere thought of the original builders of the tunnel made Kenneth wince. Numbers were always inferior, but Numbers who came from Areas 2 through 9 were at times almost good enough to pass as Britannians. Yes, they were generally lazier, and generally lacked the keen martial value of true Britannians from Area 1, the Homeland, but they weren't necessarily a bad sort. After in some cases centuries under the Britannian yoke, virtually every trace of their original backwards cultures had been corrected away, and the true Imperial Anglican faith had spread to even the most isolated valleys and islands.

Numbers from Areas 10 through 15, on the other hand, were a different story. Taken together, the inhabitants of the Southeast Asian and the Pacific territories west of Area 7 were stupid, ungrateful, and intemperate brutes who couldn't figure out how to handle even the most simple tasks. The notable exception to this rule were, of course, the Elevens.

Kenneth's jaw clenched with barely controlled anger. He wouldn't even have to be out here wasting his time shepherding these damned trucks if it weren't for the Elevens forgetting their place! Ever since that pack of bandits and rebels up north in Niigata had gotten lucky, defiance had leapt from one Eleven to the next.

The Elevens had always been cut from a different cloth than the rest of the Numbers, that much was clear. It was equally clear to Kenneth McPherson that this was not a good thing. The Elevens, once the residents and citizens of a developed country, were cunning and sly where the Tens, the Twelves, and the Thirteens were stupid, but they devoted every iota of that malicious intelligence towards creative malingering, sabotage, and outright defiance. Too cowardly to stand up and fight, the Elevens preferred to conduct hit and run attacks whenever they emerged from their bunkers, as they had almost two weeks previous in Niigata.

McPherson hated Elevens. To his own discomfort, he found himself increasingly disliking the Viceroy Governor, Prince Clovis la Britannia, for his softhearted and gentle approach to the damnable natives.

'If only a real governor could somehow be appointed, this whole mess would be ship-shape in no time,' McPherson fantasized as he and his wingman exited the tunnel at the head of the convoy, 'Someone like Princess Cornelia or Princess Marrybell, or Princess Carine... If not a royal, perhaps Lord Stadtfeld or Lord Farshaw... Hell, even that maniac Sir Bradley would be able to put these upstart Numbers back in their place in days! Unlike Prince Clovis...'

Kenneth sighed. It had been such a disappointment, for himself and for his family, when he had been assigned to Area 11. Not only was the Area a colonial backwater far from the glamorous and glorious battles waged against the European degenerates in Africa and the Atlantic, the province was also nearly impoverished, making profitable opportunities few and far between. The only export worth anything was the Sakuradite, and that whole industry was locked far too tight for a small noble family like the McPhersons to get involved with. And on top of all of that...

Kenneth was a Knightmare devicer, a latter day knight atop a charger, the king of the modern battlefield! He'd ranked in the top thirtieth percentile back at the Academy and had placed twenty-third out of the hundred hopefuls during Knightmare training! He knew he wasn't Knight of the Rounds material, but he was still a highly trained pilot! A killing machine piloting another killing machine!

Instead of having the opportunity to prove that the training hadn't been wasted, not to mention any opportunity to prove that he would have earned his lieutenancy even if his father hadn't purchased his commission, Kenneth had been sent to Area 11. Far from any honorable combat where he could earn a true knighthood and perhaps even a fief to call his own, and in sleepy Nagano City, far from even the trivial rush of combat against Eleven rebels.

Kenneth was momentarily startled out of his increasingly dark ruminations as his Knightmare jolted over a slight bump. He blinked, momentarily surprised to find himself rolling onto a bridge. 'Weren't' we just in a tunnel?' Turning his Factsphere back over his shoulder, he saw the tunnel disappear behind the hill the provincial highway curved around. Fortunately, he also saw both trucks and the tailing pair of Knightmares bringing up the rear.

With a rueful sigh, Lieutenant McPherson turned back around, chastising himself for losing track of time and place. He'd been more or less steering his Frame by instinct, while his mind had wandered down the endless list of grudges and misfortunes he'd been forced to endure. 'Not that it really matters,' Kenneth chuckled to himself as he looked down to check the digital map. Seven minutes to go. 'There's no Eleven rebels out here. They're all up in Niigata... Pity that.'

'And... Honestly, having a chance to actually kill a few Number scum would have made this entire pain in the ass trip worth it.'

Kenneth had known that someone had to escort the trucks, considering the valuable cargo they carried, and had earned himself a few brownie points with the Captain by volunteering for the job, but it was a painfully dull task. He might have been in command of the convoy, as was right and natural, but it wasn't like he could do anything fun with his newly gained and temporary command. 'If only some idiots tried to rush my squad with swords... Ah, that would liven the day up, for a few minutes at least..."

The Sutherland jolted again as the landspinners crossed the bump at the end of the bridge, and Kenneth thought unkind thoughts about the DPW. Some corruption was, sadly, a fact of life – after all, the gears always needed a bit of oil to turn, but... 'Between the lights back in the tunnel and the surfacing on this bridge, this is completely unacceptable!' Sure the highway was rural, but with the construction of the new forward base at Sakae actual Britannians would have to use this road, not just Honorary Britannians and Numbers!

As Senior Lieutenant Kenneth McPherson made a mental note to submit a formal complaint with his superior about the shoddy road maintenance provided by the DPW, he vaguely noticed a heat source appear in the extreme peripheral vision of his Factsphere's monitor. Before he could turn his Knightmare's head towards the unexplained heat signature, Lieutenant McPherson suddenly found his wish for Eleven rebels granted as a series of explosions resounded from somewhere behind him. An instant later, two anti-armor shoulder-launched missiles slammed into the sides of his pilot pod, smashing the thin armor and killing him instantly.

APRIL 18, 2016 ATB

SAKAE, NAGANO
0536

Youji shivered where he lay on his belly in the dew-soaked grass, as he had for the last half hour. Unlike the tremors of the last thirty minutes, his shivering had nothing to do with the wet cold soaking through his thin jacket from the sopping wet blanket draped over his shoulders and head. Now, Youji shivered with excitement as the pair of Knightmares leading the Britannian convoy rolled past the end of the bridge two hundred meters east of his position.

After six years, the first installment on Youji's long deferred vengeance was about to be paid.

A part of Youji, the part that burned with six years of grief and pain, desperately wanted to throw off the shroud dripping with river water, to rise to his feet and to open fire on the Britannians immediately. That part of him, which seemed to be down somewhere in his chest, next to the internal pocket sheltering the faded picture of his fiancee, folded and stained and kept safe from the water in plastic wrap, radiated throbbing heat throughout his core.

That part of Youji, wounded these six years, had impulsively lashed out again and again since he had lost her, seeking to hurt the uncaring world as he had been hurt. It was an old and familiar instinct, leaning in to unreasoning anger as an escape from the crushing grief that brought him to his knees whenever he let himself think, let himself remember.

That part of Youji snarled and raved, but was now held back by what he pictured as a steel collar and chain leash. He had forged that collar and that chain, blow by blow and link by link, over the last three and a half months of training. The trio of instructors, which had grown by one a week into the program, had helped him along the way, but ultimately it was his will that now contained his temper.

His four month journey to this prefectural roadside had started not in Shinjuku, and not at the side of his long-dead fiancee, but rather in the smoldering Honorary Britannian neighborhoods of the Tokyo Settlement.

Youji had been having a "good day" of sorts when the call had gone out for able-bodied men eager for work; thanks to the Rising Sun Association, he had a mostly full belly, and he had felt emotionally stable. At the very least, the black grief and the red anger weren't drowning out the world around him. So, Youji had trudged into the Settlement with thousands of other Elevens, signed up with a work crew, and had been trucked over to the work site.

It had been like taking a trip to the past, to the horrible days immediately following the Conquest. The architecture of the burnt out buildings was different, but the shattered windows and gutted rooms were all too familiar. Gulping back emotion and memory, Youji had joined the rest of his crew in hauling rubble to the waiting dump truck.

She had only been dead for a day, and it was December, so putrification hadn't had time to set in. Even if she had begun to rot, Youji probably wouldn't have smelled her, considering the reek of burnt plastic and linoleum that filled the remains of the charred apartment building. 'Bet it was the smoke that got her,' Youji had thought, as he'd helped two of his new co-workers lift a chunk of fallen roofing material off the table the woman had crawled under. Her clothes had been scorched in places, but judging by her cyanotic face it hadn't been the heat that had killed her.

The dead woman, whose body had been unceremoniously flung into the truck with the other burnable garbage, lingered with Youji as he continued to work, and followed him back to Shinjuku. Honorary Britannian collaborator or not, the way she had tried to curl up under the table...

An inquiry or two at the Rising Sun meeting hall had taken him to a back room, where Youji had been politely grilled by two women as to his motivations, history, and goals. The older woman he had seen a few times at the meeting hall, but as far as he had known, she was just another volunteer helping the Association distribute food to the starving people of Shinjuku. Hajime Tanya, on the other hand... He'd heard the rumors, of course, but it had been hard to believe that the scrawny hafu asking about his work experience had really taken three adults down in a minute using only her bare hands.

Four months later, those rumors no longer seemed the slightest bit absurd.

And now, Youji waited patiently for the signal from that same hafu, albeit a bit less scrawny, a bit more muscular, and slightly taller, to arm the weapon laying next to him in the grass. The shoulder-fired missile launcher had only been issued to him that morning, and he had only had a chance to practice with similar launchers for a few hours before leaving on the mission, but Youji wasn't concerned. The launcher had been designed to be easy to use, and the target would only be twenty to thirty meters away. 'And close is going to be more than good enough...'

A second later, the handheld radio clipped to his belt clicked twice as the second truck left the bridge. Moving carefully, Youji twisted the base of the stout weapon, causing the inner tube to telescope out and lock in place. Rolling onto his side, he picked up the launcher and tucked it over his right shoulder before flopping back onto his belly, taking care to shelter the trigger button on top of the assembly. 'Any second now...'

The flanking pair of Knightmares rolled off the bridge meters behind the second truck. Youji focused on taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself. 'Any second now... Any second...' The leading pair of Knightmares were almost directly in front of him, the top of the pilot pod a meter or so below the edge of the hill cut he lay on top of. Youji gulped, trying to force the wad of thick mucus and saliva down his suddenly constricted throat as the unit insignia painted in gold on the front of the closest Knightmare glistened in the light of a rogue sunbeam. 'It's gotta be soon... Soon... Soon...'

Suddenly, the lead truck seemed to jolt once, and then twice, and began to wildly fishtail across the road as the driver lost control of the truck. Youji couldn't see it in the early morning light, but he was certain the truck had just rolled across the improvised spike strip he'd helped make, nails strung together with chicken-wire and painted grey. 'Which means...' The radio clipped to his belt let out a trio of blasts of static as the little hafu hit the transmit button once, twice, and thrice from wherever she was hiding.

'Finally!'

The overlapping explosions of four missile launches slammed into Youji's ears as the blanket cascaded down his back. He smoothly rose to one knee, blanket pooling over his trailing leg as he brought the rocket launcher down to bear on the Knightmare below and in front of him. To his left and right, the other four members of his squad likewise knelt, though only the two comrades to his left had their fingers on the trigger buttons; across the road, five other figures likewise pointed their launchers down into the roadbed below. From the corner of his eye, Youji could see one of the trailing Knightmares slam into the hillside, but ignored it – he had a job to do.

Smoothly, squeezing not jerking, Youji depressed the button on his launcher, supporting the tube as it bucked his hand. The backblast, joined by his two squadmates, was enough to shred the overgrown bushes behind him, but Youji's eyes were glued to the Knightmare immediately in front of him. The unguided missile had slammed into the broad side of the pilot pod, almost perpendicularly to the ground. Judging by the absolute devastation, at least one of the rockets fired by his comrades on the other ridge had gone a bit high and slammed into the other side of the same Knightmare's pilot pod – it looked like some pair of giant hands had clapped the frame, caving in both sides of the lightly armored compartment and obliterating whatever and whoever had been inside.

The stricken Knightmare's wingmate had also been hit, but only by one missile and only glancingly, if Youji was any judge. The back of the pilot pod looked like it had been smashed by some fiery mallet, and bulged inwards.

The second Knightmare outlived the first by only a few seconds. The operation's leader had planned for a target surviving the initial barrage, and an instant later, the four insurgents who had held fire during the first salvo pushed their own launcher's buttons. The second Knightmare ruptured; a fireball forcing itself from somewhere deep inside the monstrous device's guts as the Yggdrasil Drive destabilized.

The second truck, blocked from reversing by the burning ruins of the flanking Knightmares, tried to run. The driver slammed to the left, trying to get around the immobilized bulk of the first truck, and had nearly made it around his unlucky companion when a small form half-ran, half slid down the opposing slope.

The tiny figure, blonde ponytail streaming like a banner behind her, raised the pistol clenched in her right and fired two shots through the driver's side window without stopping or slowing, before jumping on the running board. A moment later, the truck came to a complete stop, and first the driver, then the passenger climbed down out of the truck, hands in the air, and knelt on the road before the feet of Hajime Tanya.

At the sight, Youji finally let his discipline slip. Throwing his spent launcher to the ground, he raised both hands to the sky, and howled at the day's victory. "Japan! Japan! Long live Japan! Death to all invaders! Death!" He could barely hear himself over the ringing in his ears, but he was certain his comrades were baying alongside him as the Knightmares, the symbols of Britannian domination over the might of Japan, burnt in the scorched roadbed below them.

APRIL 18, 2016 ATB

SAKAE, NAGANO
0540

Rena sighed with exasperation as her squadmates hooted like a troop of macaques over their victory. She was tempted to chide them for the unprofessional display, for celebrating before the mission was well and truly completed, but... She couldn't deny the joy that had surged through her as the last Knightmare standing had been pummeled into the roadside loam.

Besides, the broad toothy grin Rena could feel spreading across her face would probably undermine any rebuke she tried to make.

'And there's nothing worse than being a hypocrite,' Rena thought with amusement as she picked up her discarded blanket and started hauling it and the spent launcher towards the lumber yard where the Furude brothers, the designated drivers, had parked the vans. 'Except maybe being a Britannian.'

Rena met the Furudes in the parking lot as they filed out of the lumber yard's office building, along with the four employees of the yard's early shift they'd been keeping an eye on. Per orders from on high, the temporarily detained employees had been kept under supervision in the break room and given breakfast, but hadn't been permitted to leave the Furudes' watchful gaze.

"Hey, Rena, what's the news?" Yuu, the elder of the Furude brothers, greeted her from the end of the little procession, releasing the handguard of his rifle as he waved. "We heard the signal over the radio – did it work?"

"You know it, Yuu!" It was hard to retain even the slightest bit of professionalism as Rena dumped her armload of blanket and spent launcher into the van's trunk, turning with a grin towards her not at all handsome and cool comrade. "They rolled right into it, and then BOOM!"

Rena couldn't help but make the explosion noise herself, just to really underline how amazing it had been to watch the two rear Knightmares explode as the four comrades laying in the drainage ditches along the bridge had stood up and fired their missiles straight into the back of the pilot pods. "As soon as the truck hit that spike strip, they were dead meat!"

Yuu laughed appreciatively, and Rena couldn't help but notice how fetchingly the white headband with the red rising sun ringed in yellow contrasted with his shoulder-length black hair. 'Plus...' She thought, noticing how his chest moved as he laughed, 'the training's been real good to him...'

"You know," Rena said, walking back towards the road, and just happened to take a route that went directly past Yuu and his charges, "I managed to hit one of the Brit bastards myself – it was a beautiful shot, Yuu, right in the side of the pod! Wish you'd been there to see it..." Suddenly, he was only an arm's length away, and somehow he looked really good holding that rifle...

The radios on Yuu's and Rena's belt suddenly crackled to life, making Rena jump with surprise. Flustered, she quickly looked away from Yuu as she fumbled for her radio. To her growing consternation, she realized that Yuu's little brother, Taka, and all four of the Japanese workers the brothers had been supervising were all staring at her and Yuu with open amusement.

"Yellow to Watcher 1, what's your status, and the status of the workers, over?" Rena stopped trying to grab her radio and instead took the opportunity to resume her... not her retreat, her return to the roadside. 'You've got a job to do! It's very important!' She reminded herself, doing her best to ignore how hot her ears felt as she heard the unmistakable sound of badly suppressed laughter behind her.

"Watcher 1 to Yellow," Rena heard Yuu begin to report as she turned the corner of the road and started picking her way down the road, stepping over and around scraps of the leading Knightmares. "Everything is good here. Watcher 2 is getting his van fired up, and our guests have behaved themselves. Over."

"Yellow to Watcher 1, thank your guests for cooperating and let them go. Warn them of probable retaliation, and ask them to spread word to their neighbors, then get ready to go. Over." Rena heard the tail end of the last transmission in stereo as she walked past 'Yellow', the tiny blonde's voice overlapping with the crackling output from the radio. Keeping her distance to prevent feedback, Rena circled around Commander Tanya and the line of men lying prone with their hands bound on the side of the road and clambered into the intact truck's cab through the passenger door.

The military truck was somewhat different from the old panel truck that Instructor Nagata had taught Rena how to drive as part of the classes, and she spent some time getting familiar with the layout of the dashboard. As she moved the seat forward and down, and adjusted the mirrors, a line of her comrades formed, hauling everything man-portable out of the immobilized truck and into any available space in the bed of her truck. The truck was still running, so she fortunately didn't have to worry about getting the engine warmed up.

Up ahead and a few hundred meters down the road, Rena could see one of the vans driven by the Furude brothers pulling up to the small construction hut located near the junction, and the trio of comrades hastily hauling the machine-gun, the tripod, and the ammunition boxes out from inside the hut. In the event that one of the trucks had made it past the spike strip and the other impediments, the machine-gun nest had been a backup, ready to rake the driver's compartment and engine block with hundreds of rounds per minute. Rena felt sorry for them. 'The poor guys didn't even get to fire off a shot – we were just too good.'

Finally, as the bucket line of comrades hauling cargo broke up and after Tanya dealt with the Britannian prisoners, Rena's radio crackled back to life. "Yellow to Red 2, head south from Hirataki. We'll be using drop point D-3. Confirm, over."

Rena unclipped the handheld radio from her belt and pulled the folded map out from her shirt, unfolding it on the passenger seat as she used her other hand to transmit. "Red 2 to Yellow, confirmed point D-3. Over."

"Yellow to Red 2. Good. Get going – Scope is already on his motorbike heading east on 408. He'll meet you when you cross the Chikuma, and the rest of us will be following right behind you, over." Rena nodded for a second, before remembering that she had been talking to Tanya over the radio and stopped. 'No time like the present, I guess,' She thought, and put the truck into first gear. The heavily loaded vehicle shuddered into motion, and Rena carefully maneuvered her way through the debris of the ambush, cursing the somewhat sticky clutch as she finagled around the sprawled leg of the lead Knightmare.

'Can't wait for this mission to be over...' Rena thought, yawning as the sleepiness from so much early morning activity hit her as the adrenaline of action faded away. 'Wonder if we'll get a fun after-party too, like after the last mission? We better. And we didn't even lose anybody this time, so the mood should be way better too!'

Buoyed by the thought, Rena hummed cheerfully as she turned right and headed south across the next bridge over the Chikuma River. True to Tanya's word, Scope – the lookout who had kept an eye from the bushes on the tunnel and had reported on the convoy's progress to Tanya – was waiting for her at the intersection with Prefectural Route 408, straddling his motorcycle. He waved to her, and she waved back through the shattered driver's side window, before he kicked his bike's motor back to life and swung out onto the road behind her.

Rena continued along her way, taking care to drive carefully on the winding mountain roads as she did so. 'It'd be really embarrassing if I crashed the truck on the way to the drop-off point,' She reasoned, as she kept a steady pace of 50 kilometers an hour as two white vans fell into the procession behind her and Scope. 'Besides,' a treacherous and highly unprofessional voice laughed in her mind, 'it'll be impossible to get Yuu's attention if you seize mission failure from the jaws of success!' Clenching her teeth, Rena focused on the road and tried her best to forget that Yuu was likely staring at the back of her truck from behind his own wheel.

Fortunately for Rena, the drop-off went perfectly. Tanya must have radioed ahead, because almost as soon as she had pulled off the highway onto the small Forest Service road, two men stepped out of the trees. Leaving the truck running, Rena hopped out and waved at one of the men, who, she noticed, was wearing a uniform very much like Major Onoda's, only less worn-looking and minus the mud stains. 'Delivery courtesy of the Rising Sun,' she chirped as she bowed slightly to the men, before making her way back towards Yuu's van, a spring in her step. 'Mission accomplished! We're definitely gonna have a a party after this!'

APRIL 18, 2016 ATB

EAST OF MT TORIKABUTO, SAKAE, NAGANO
0703

I stretched back as best as I could in the van's passenger seat, trying to ignore the irritating sensation of damp cloth sticking and pulling on my skin. Major Onoda, who claimed to be somewhat familiar with the sensory equipment of Knightmare Frames, had suggested the wet blankets as a way to conceal the presence of my ambush party from the thermal vision of the Factspheres.

Onoda's suggestion had worked like a charm; dripping with river water from a quick immersion in the Chikuma, the squad of Sutherlands hadn't noticed anything until it was far too late. Likewise, Ohgi's thoughts that, in order for the ejector mechanisms to work, the armoring on the pilot pods had to be light was proven entirely correct.

My trainees had performed well in the aftermath of the ambush as well. The extraction process had been orderly and quick, and the handover of the Britannian truck crammed full of spare parts for Sutherlands and a variety of tools presumably related to Knightmare maintenance had gone off without a hitch.

Despite this generally positive performance on the part of my newly graduated trainees, there was still room for improvement. I would let the trainees enjoy their party, enjoy their victory, but… Squads 2 and 3 would be paying dearly for their impromptu victory celebration tomorrow. I didn't know if pushups would fully drive my displeasure at their lack of discipline in an active combat situation, but it would at least improve their upper arm and core strength.

I'd been concerned that the JLF receivers would ask after the other truck, but neither of them had asked any questions over radio or in person. Of course, that didn't mean that Front members higher up on the food chain wouldn't chastise me for the truck's loss at some later point. It was entirely possible that the JLF soldiers had left the pleasure of haranguing me over the unsatisfactory quality of work to Onoda, or perhaps even to the fabled upstart himself, Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe.

Truck or not, I was having a hard time seeing the mission as anything but a complete success. We had acquired key intelligence about the capabilities of the Sutherland's Factsphere, as well as the strength of the side and back faces of the pilot pod. The tactics that Ohgi and I had devised, with Onoda's input, had proven workable as well, if only with the advantages of surprise and deliberately chosen ground.

Not to mention that all twenty of the insurgents I had brought with me on this mission were returning alive and unharmed.

"Scope" the motorcycle-riding scout ranged ahead of our little procession heading north on Area Route 405, back up into Niigata. We were not, I had to remind myself, fully out of danger yet – it was still possible for us to be detected by Britannian helicopters patrolling for rebel activity, or for us to encounter a surprise checkpoint blocking the road. We're not safe until we're back home.

Back home...

It was a nebulous concept, 'Home'. I had lived at The School for just slightly longer than I had lived in Ohgi and Naoto's apartment. Almost six months, put together. Admittedly, either location felt more like 'home' than the one room in an apartment my mother had sublet, where we had lived together for years. Home...

The sun flickered in and out between the overgrown cedars, extended boughs casting wide shadows in the morning light of a bright spring day. It would be, it seemed, a cloudless day, even up here in the mountains. I could only imagine how hot and steamy it would be getting at The School; in this one area, Shinjuku probably had the rustic environs of rural Gunma beat – the breezes coming off Tokyo Bay helped break up the worst of the spring and summer heat, although they did nothing for the humidity.

I closed my eyes and leaned back in the passenger seat, tuning out the boisterous chatter from the trainees. They were chatting about the party they eagerly anticipated to celebrate their first mission, and their first victory. I smirked, enjoying the privacy of the front seat; I was certain that they would not be disappointed by the moonshine that Ohgi had stocked up on, nor by the two pigs that he, Nagata, and a squad had "liberated" from a Britannian farm in Nakanojo.

It had been almost four months since I had left Shinjuku. Four months of hard work training the recruits, organizing supplies for all present, hammering out agreements and concessions with Onoda... The adrenaline rush of combat had almost been a vacation from the daily humdrum work, much as I hated to admit it even in the confines of my own head.

Not much of a vacation for Sumire or Manabu...

The School was reaching a point where the trainees no longer required my hands-on presence, in my estimation. The training cadre was doing an admirable job straightening out the second cohort, and the plan had always been to hand over control of the school's program to the cadre after the completion of the first cohort's training. The fly in the ointment, as was often the case, was Major Onoda.

As a result of my agreement with the Major for his ongoing support, at least one ranking member of the Kozuki Organization needed to remain on-site, lest some "urgent mission" crop up. I was sure that Major Onoda would be properly apologetic for acting without authorization after the fact, but considering his superior's habitual disobedience towards his superiors, I wasn't inclined to trust the man or, for that matter, any member of the Kusakabe faction.

It was truly an unfortunate state of affairs. Onoda's knowledge of the capabilities of Glasgow series Factsphere sensors had been just as crucial to the success of our nearly completed mission as the shoulder-mounted anti-armor weapons he'd funneled to the Kozuki Organization. If I could just rely on the JLF to not stab me in the back, they would be a near perfect partner. Such a pity about their apparent gekokujo addiction.

At the same time, I couldn't stay tied down to The School indefinitely. The School was important, but so was Shinjuku, and I had always planned for my time away from the slum to be limited in scope. I trusted Naoto, Inoue, and Kallen, of course, but I had left Naoto and Inoue in something of a holding pattern. As for Kallen, I could only hope that she wasn't drowning under the combined weight of three distinct roles. I didn't have anyone else who could take her place in the aristocratic circles open to her by her blood and her name, nor her place as an up and coming journalist.

Beyond that, Shinjuku was in the Tokyo Settlement, in the very belly of the Britannian beast. As the summer heat truly set in, I could only imagine how the constant simmering tensions in the Settlement would boil over. I doubted anybody had forgotten the Christmas Incident, especially if the Prince had doubled down on supporting the Purists, as he had in the aftermath of the Shinjuku Subway Incident.

I opened my eyes again, and smiled at the beautiful spring day under the still-rising Sun. I would find someone to delegate keeping watch over The School to, someone who could check Onoda while still leading the mandatory missions. The Tokyo Settlement practically seethed with opportunities in my mind's eye. I had the makings of a small but well-trained and well-supplied army, and I had the makings of a plan to finally burn out the parasites who had burrowed deep into my people's guts.

It's time to go home to Shinjuku.