October 6th, 1908, Western Command Headquarters, West City, Amestris – Tanya POV
Brigadier General Hans von Zettour put down Major Tanya Degurechaff’s report and leaned forwards at his desk. He looked intently at the young State Alchemist standing across from him with unconcealed curiosity.
“Your progress with the Fürer’s project has been remarkable. When you were providing me your initial updates, I had thought that you were perhaps trying to cause every one of the soldiers I had sent you to fail.”
Tanya did her best not to look nervous. That had been her plan and it should have worked flawlessly.
‘Except it is obvious that General Zettour did not give me a few “left-overs” like he promised. I don’t care what the official reports say about their previous assignments, the 203rd is clearly filled with bloodthirsty, veteran warmongers! Who else could have passed through that hellish training?! I have to be a lot more careful going forward. The General saw through my plan to delay and ruthlessly cut it short, so what else has he got planned?’
The small smile the Brigadier General showed gave her chills.
“Well, despite your… unorthodox style of training, I cannot deny its effectiveness. I am sure you are anxious to learn what the military has planned for your ‘Battalion’ next.”
She did want to know about that – as much as she might have wanted to delay that indefinitely – and so she said as much. General Zettour took out a document and handed it over. It was an envelope sealed with the Fürer’s official seal.
The General leaned back in his chair and sighed.
“Unfortunately, I already know what your orders say. You have only until November 1st to remain on this front before the Fürer insists that you make way for Ishval.”
Tanya was relieved. Things were progressing faster than she had anticipated, but at least she would be away from the Western Front.
‘It’s clear that Ishval will not be a walk-in-the-park, but if General Zettour only has a month, what could he order me to do? A few front-line engagements? So long as I carefully plan every aspect, the risk of coming against one of the Orb’s weakness is unlikely.’
She smiled and gave the General a salute.
“I am thankful for your efforts in putting my Battalion together. It is very unfortunate that I will not be able to do much to aid you and your responsibilities like we had planned.”
General Zettour shook his head.
“It truly is. At the rate things are going, we are at risk of this ‘Border Conflict’ escalating. We have yet to call on for General Mobilization, I’m sure you know why that is.”
Tanya grimaced. As much as she wanted to avoid the front lines, she wanted that even less.
“If Amestris mobilized, all our neighbors would as well. It would be a World War.”
The General nodded.
“A unique way to put it, though it is doubtful it would spread beyond the continent. It is a sobering prospect. Until now, mobilization as a concept has never drawn upon the vital resources of the nation. Likewise, Amestris has only conquered local polities like Riviere. Otherwise, the State has held its ground, but never against multiple fronts with Equal or Greater Powers. The recent conflicts have shown that we will struggle immensely. With that in mind, we must win a decisive victory here, and your soldiers are the best chance of that. I’m sure you have no reservations?”
Tanya knew she could not afford to have any. General Zettour had already put a large sum of his dwindling cash flow into her project. For the month, she was at his beck-and-call for anything; anything less would be spitting in the face of his generosity.
If anything she was confused.
“But how? A month and 82 soldiers are hard limits. What exactly do you expect us to do that could change the situation on the front?”
She would regret asking.
---
October 8th, 1908, Western Command Headquarters, West City, Amestris – Hans POV
For the first time in 7 months, the General Staff of the Western Front was meeting at Headquarters to discuss strategy. The seven Major Generals of the Infantry Divisions, the four Brigadier Generals of the Rifle Brigades, Brigadier General Hans von Zettour in charge of Logistics, Brigadier General Kurt von Rudersdorf in charge of Offensive Strategy and several select aides and Staff Officers were crowded into a large conference room.
The atmosphere was tense as the Generals eyed their adversaries. In the Amestrian army, results were the only thing that mattered. Everyone competed for promotions and the discussion was bound to get heated. For now, they sat at a large table and quietly reviewed a report given them just moments earlier by an aide. At the head of the table, General Philip Gargantos Armstrong was drinking a glass of wine and had not even glanced at the paper in front of him.
General Armstrong was a fossil of traditional doctrine and a man either one step away from retirement or the grave. Yet, Hans could not help but be grateful for his presence. While the large and well-groomed man had very little to say regarding modern strategy or bold off-the-wall thinking, he was nevertheless a pillar of leadership respected by the Traditionalists for his storied military career and the Reformers for being willing to listen and accept their new ideas. It was thanks to his approval that Reformists like Hans and Kurt were able to speak above their rank in meetings like this and that their new approaches to defensive warfare and logistics allowed the front to hold out for so long.
Once General Armstrong finished his drink and let out a boisterous laugh. He tossed the paper forwards and bellowed out for all to hear.
“So, I see you’re all as tense as ever. Why don’t we start with something simple, what is the current situation on the front?”
At that, General Rudersdorf stood up since this was his job now. His actual role had been effectively made useless as every offensive strategy he put forth was declined for lack of resources. As such, he had been relegated to compiling and summarizing the situation on the ground for the past few months. He did not like it, but did so without voluntarily. Everyone else was too busy either holding the line or trying to solve the ever worsening supply problems.
At Kurt’s signal, an aide rolled out a map on the table.
Creta Front Battleplan 1 [https://i.imgur.com/EtrTBpA.png]
General Rudersdorf took out a pointer from under the desk and began to point out to the map.
“The front is stable, but worsening by the day. We have had trouble holding forward trenches on half of the line due to a lack of shells needed for counter-battery fire on enemy artillery. Creta does not take our trenches when we abandon them and seems content with the status quo of attrition which is favoring them. Creta has increased their volume of artillery fire by roughly 8% every month for the past six months while our artillery has seen a similar rate of decline. Current estimates gauge that Creta has around 200,000 personnel to our 188,483 but it is likely that the true number of enemy soldiers could be higher. It is the guess of my staff and intelligence that they are waiting for a decisive advantage in numbers before attempting an all-out assault on our lines.
“As of right now, approval had been given to engineering teams near Pendleton and Providence to construct a secondary trench system which can concentrate our forces and fix some of the supply issues. This has been completed. Our spies in Constantine and Millersburg do not think that an assault is going to happen soon as there has not been a significant build-up of materiel in their depots. As such, it is unlikely we will need to use these secondary lines.”
The news was not new, but everyone still had bitter expressions. Pendleton, Anderson and Millersburg were towns that Amestris had captured from Creta 15 years ago. While losing them would be a strategic blow, it was an acceptable one given the reality of their protracted Civil War in Ishval which drastically changed the strategic situation in the West. However, the fact that fighting could move to put enemy artillery in range of the Amestrian town of Providence south of Pendleton, was a tacit admission that the Amestrian military was going to fail its primary duty: protecting the citizens of Amestris.
The war was no stranger to civilian deaths, of course. Both Creta and Amestris had fired new long-range railroad-mounted cannons at civilian targets in the unlikely case that attacking them would cause the enemy to quickly give up. However, it became clear that such measures were ineffective, costly and inhumane and so civilians had been safe during the rest of the conflict. If that were to change and a volume of fire similar to that on the front line were to reach the urban area of Providence, however, it was foreseeable that Amestris might sue for peace rather than face the catastrophic civilian and economic loss.
It was far more likely that Amestris would call for general mobilization and rapidly escalate the conflict. It was universally agreed that this was to be avoided at all cost. For moral reasons, this was to avoid needless death. More practically, it was because the escalation would likely have all the generals in the room either forever passed up for promotion, or otherwise forcibly retired. Letting a weaker nation like Creta get the better of their professional military would be an international embarrassment.
As Kurt sat down, General Armstrong closed his eyes and nodded his head.
“I think it is pretty clear we’re on the back foot. It was hoped that the Fürer’s Order 3066 would bring a decisive end to the Isvalan Revolt and give us the men and resources we desperately need, but we can not rely on that any longer. Even if the revolt were to end tomorrow, Creta would attack before we could get our reinforcements and the result would not be in our favor.”
General Armstrong looked to Hans and Kurt and crossed his arms.
“So, I’m assuming that the two of you called this meeting in order to change our situation, is that correct?”
‘You would know that if you read the report in front of you…’
Hans let his minuscule anger dissipate. He did not actually hold the General’s irreverent attitude against him. The report by Major Degurechaff with additional commentary from himself would help prove his point, but it was a point far better said than read.
Hans stood up and nodded to Kurt.
“That is correct, General. The report in front of you details the performance of a new weapon, the Operation Orb. It is my belief that utilizing this weapon in an effective manner will create a turnaround of our situation. The 51 Orbs created for-”
Major General Gärtner – the stern, bespectacled commander of the 9th Infantry Division – stood up, cutting Hans off.
“This is clearly a waste of time. I have little doubt that a project under the Fürer’s auspices would be nothing short of incredible, but this is no Wunderwaffe as you Westerners would put it. 50 soldiers – even 50 State Alchemists – would not be able to change the situation on this battlefield by any appreciable extent. We are talking about an advantage of at least thirty-thousand Creta soldiers here.”
Hans could only bite back a retort, especially since the Major General seemed to be ignoring his own Western heritage. As a member of the Traditionalists, Gärtner’s asinine comments caused Kurt and himself no end of frustration. While the Major General never gave any solutions, he was always ready to quickly shut down the solutions of others purely for what Hans could only conclude were “Politically Motivated”.
General Armstrong laughed. He turned to smile at General Gärtner.
“Your last point is certainly worthy of consideration, but I have to question your first one. I do not know about the rest of you, but I have not been doing much productive work these last few months. I do not think our time is so valuable at the moment that we cannot discuss any new ideas. Perhaps you or someone other than our gracious hosts Generals Zettour and Rudersdorf here can give some alternative solution? Something that could turn the tide of misfortune we’ve found ourselves in?”
Hans smirked at the direction of the conversation. General Gärtner, however, seemed as though he was personally insulted by the words.
“There is still the possibility of an all-out assault. If we were to concentrate our forces on a small part of their line we could-”
He was cut off by the sound of groaning and jeering from the other Generals. Gärtner was forced to sit down and grumble in his seat.
General Armstrong chuckled.
“If you wish to write a treatise on that, we can talk about it in private, but I think the others have made their position on that clear. An all-out assault six months ago when we had the superior numbers would have had questionable military and political results. With this horrid form of ‘defense warfare’ that has emerged, I do not believe our current position has given us any advantages since then.”
When the noise died down, he turned to Kurt and Hans and gave a smile.
“Now, Brigadier Generals, if you wouldn’t mind continuing?”
Hans did as ordered.
“Gentleman, some have you have read the report, some of you have not.” A not so subtle look towards General Armstrong had the man let out a chuckle and a shrug. “To those who have not, I will summarize. The Operation Orb gives a common soldier some limited alchemic abilities. The two abilities as of now are: firing a rifle with the force of a field gun, and immunity to most projectiles.”
The latter admission had the other generals clamoring, but Kurt was quick to continue.
“Despite these obvious advantages, the weapon still has some drawbacks which are obviously classified at the highest levels. The most relevant strategic weakness of the weapon – which I can discuss – is that it can only be used for a limited time. An ‘Operator’ of an Orb can only maintain the effects in a combat situation for about two hours a day before the chances of mistakes and death increase drastically. I have spoken to the Mythril Alchemist personally and she says that this is a problem inherent in her ‘Dynamic Transmutation Circle Technology’ the Orb uses and is not something that can be fixed or will improve without several months of development. This is offset somewhat by the 82 Operators of the 203rd Battalion who can rotate their use of the 51 available Orbs. Likewise, pairs or groups of Operators can protect each other, extending the duration at the expense of tactical flexibility.”
General Armstrong waited for General Zettour to finish before responding.
“This all sounds quite remarkable, but I will have to echo Major General Gärtner’s earlier concern. I can only imagine how this could change warfare in the future, but with so few weapons, it simply cannot make enough of a difference to change this war. Once the enemy starts feeling the effect of these Operators, they will realize that their current attrition plan will no longer work, and will attack us in force.”
General Gärtner also chimed in.
“What’s more, you have neglected to mention that the Fürer has only approved of the use of this weapon here for less than a month. On November 1st, his Excellency will be expecting this ‘203rd Battalion’ in Ishval! Again, I demand to know why we are here! What can 82 people they possibly do in such an insignificant period of time?! Even over 100 State Alchemists could not significantly change the situation in Ishval.”
At this, General Rudersdorf stood up to support his colleague.
“You’re right. Hans and I have discussed this at length and have even considered potential classified countermeasures the enemy could deploy. Neither of us are here to tell you that this weapon is without its flaws.”
Hans signaled for one of the aides to unroll a new map on the table. Already several of the Generals were up in arms at just a glance. He looked at their outraged faces. He could feel his career hanging by a thread. There would be no turning back.
‘I hope that Tanya appreciates how far I am sticking my neck out for her project. Regardless, it is an obvious choice. A rising star like her should not be held back by old men like us. For the good of Amestris.’
He turned to the group of Generals, straightened his uniform and prepared to give them the best damn presentation he has ever made.
“What we are here to tell you of is our plan to use the newly formed 203rd Battalion to win this war.”
---
October 16th, 1908, Millersburg Outskirts, Creta Occupied Area – Tanya POV
Just over a week had passed and everything was going perfectly according to the plans of the General Staff. This was not due to incompetence of the enemy. In fact, it relied on them being smart and seizing the initiative. The only failing of the Cretan Armies was their ignorance of the Operation Orb’s capabilities; they could not know they were being forced to act to General Zettour’s strategy. All the enemy’s forces had moved up to the secondary front line defenses and were maintaining a defensive posture.
This sudden change to the battlefield was an enormous risk. Creta was confident that once their artillery started destroying the Amestrian town of Providence, the State would either call for peace, make suicidal charges in the desperate hope of changing the situation, or mobilize and give all its neighbors the justification to do the same. Every one of those options would be Creta’s victory in the campaign and now it was only a matter of time.
However, the risk had a potentially massive payoff. The new lines extended the Creta’s logistics to the breaking point and made it a serious weakness. Zettour’s plan was to maximize the 203rd Battalion’s potential in the smallest possible time. As a Company-sized element, the 203rd had massive potential as highly mobile raiders which could strike in the heart of the enemy supplies and destroy its capacity to fight. It could even do so in just a single month.
It was a plan that some might characterize as “daring”, but Tanya saw as “desperate”.
‘Damn you, General Zettour! It must be nice to sit in a comfy chair in the rear and draw up some radical plan, but someone has to actually pull it off! One month is a ridiculous time-frame to carry out any results, nevermind the sorts of results he needs to keep his front from disintegrating. The Battalion hasn’t even seen combat! Due to the distances, most of the Battalion will be fighting tiny, far-flung, under-equipped depots. That leaves only a single Platoon to face off against the heart of the enemy rear-line in Millersburg! My Platoon!’
Tanya had to lead that Platoon. While many of the soldiers in her Battalion had more field experience, she was the State Alchemist. She was the one who knew the Operation Orb best. She was the one with Staff Officer training and only she had almost a century of foreknowledge at her disposal. If she left it to someone else and the plan failed, not only would a large number of her meat-shields perish and her reputation would be ruined, but the Western Front would collapse and Amestris could find herself in the epicenter of a World War with her perfectly positioned as the first to a new, far more nightmarish front.
‘But why?! Why does it have to be me? It is their fault! They want the 13 Orbs and 21 soldiers of 1st Platoon to stand against the combined might of potentially two Cretan Divisions?! Over 10,000 infantry, cavalry, tanks, artillery and more! Deflect is good, but it isn’t perfect! It only lasts less than an hour of heavy use. If we get surrounded and our equipment is destroyed, we would die in a fighting retreat through kilometers of hostile forces. Like a zombie survival game, we would be stuck wading through thousands of bodies before being exhausted and “consumed” by the horde.’
“Major? Is something wrong?”
Tanya snapped out of her thoughts to see 2nd Lieutenant Viktoriya Serebryakova looking down at her with a concerned expression.
The Major waved her concern away and took a deep breath. She brought herself back to reality and considered her circumstances again. It would not do her any good to waste time thinking about the unfairness of reality. She long knew that the universe did not play favorites. Instead, she focused on the current plan.
Creta Battleplan 2 [https://i.imgur.com/MOH4IRN.png]
Her 1st Platoon had made it to the outskirts of the former Cretan town of Millersburg with a few hours remaining until sunrise. Their two large trucks and six smaller armored cars parked by a small copse of trees. The 12 Enlisted men busied themselves camouflaging the trucks while the 7 NCOs organized and cataloged the equipment they would be using for the first stages of their mission in a few hours.
By now, the 2nd, 3rd and 4th Platoons would be making strikes on the enemy’s forward depots and causing mass confusion. The reason for a majority of her Battalion being dedicated to this was that these platoons had the most work to do. They had over 200 engineers and tons of explosives with them to destroy the kilometers of light rail and vehicles that had been used to ferry the equipment to the front lines. When there work was complete, the 200,000 soldiers of the main armies would be completely cut off from supplies and would be forced into a costly retreat.
Normally, these attacks would have prompted a powerful response from the mobile elements of the 14th Cretan Cavalry Brigade stationed in Millersburg, but they would be too busy facing a surprise attack from her 1st Platoon.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
With its proximity to the front lines, its ample railroads, and its history as a mining town, Millersburg made for the perfect logistics hub. Kilometers of warehouses were stuffed with food, medicine, ammunition and fuel destined for the front lines. This was more true now than ever with the recent offensive. Unlike the forward bases, this was heavily fortified with not only the 14th Brigade, but also the 8th Infantry Brigade just a few hours away in the City of Constantine.
Tanya looked to see the Lieutenant was still looking worried and put a strained smile. She turned to the recently christened “adjutant”. The woman was the only pick she could consider. since she was the least warmongering of the officers.
“Lieutenant Serebryakova, there is no need for concern. I suppose you could say that I have been thinking deeply about the mission.”
The Lieutenant frowned.
“I hope that this isn’t another case of you staying up late again.”
The Major sighed. With the stress of the current situation, she had let slip a few bad habits from her University days that the new Adjutant was strict in addressing. Had their rapport evolved more naturally, Tanya could have proven herself a reliable superior to the bright-eyed woman. As it stood, her adjutant mothered her excessively, no doubt because of Tanya’s child-like appearance. It would no doubt take months – if ever – to recover their shattered workplace relationship.
She shook her head and internally groaned. She just realized that asking for coffee now would be a bad idea.
“No, I had a full 8 hours rest. Instead, please tell the men there will be an informal meeting in an hour before the mission starts.”
Her adjutant nodded her head and went off.
An hour passed and the pre-mission preparations had been complete.
The 1st Platoon stood before her and her adjutant stood next to her. They all wore jet-black uniforms complete with balaclavas and shrapnel-resistant vests bristling with Stielhandgranates and 8mm ammo on bandoliers. They each wielded heavy, Bergmann MG15 Light Machine Guns with a water-cooling jacket, Lugers, and Model 88 commission rifles for using their explosive silver bullets. Their backpacks were piled into the armored cars that in turn were bristling with Panzerfaust, high explosives, and extra fuel in cans strapped to the sides. Rather than looking ready for war, they all looked ready to take on the world.
‘They’d better be ready. There is no turning back now. Not for us, and not for Amestris…’
Tanya coughed into her fist to grab their attention before her thoughts drifted again in a negative direction.
“The mission is clear and with the complete surprise of our assault, the parameters of each of your tasks has not changed. Our latest intelligence on the city is over 2 months old and so we will be performing reconnaissance-in-force. We have six armored cars and two truckloads of munitions and fuel, but that is not nearly enough to destroy a city. Thankfully, our comrades in Creta have generously filled the city to the brim with explosives. Creta believes that these should be best used killing our allies fighting desperately on the front lines. I can think of a few better uses for them.”
The quip got her platoon softly chuckling and Tanya figured that was as good as she was going to get.
“Alright, you have your orders. The operation today will take two hours before we will fall back for the day. Any questions?”
Sergeant Hoffmann stood forward and gave her a crisp salute.
“Major! Is there any reason not to completely destroy them on the 1st day? A brigade does not seem like much of a threat.”
She looked discretely at the others, but their expressions did not lead Tanya to think that they were as shocked or frustrated as Tanya felt.
‘Are you crazy?! A Brigade is 5000 soldiers you damn warmonger! Do these guys really think they are invincible? Of course the Orb is powerful and we are using it for the first time, but I’m not going to risk my life needlessly! Now, for an excuse…’
With a sigh, she responded.
“You have not fought in urban warfare; it’s no picnic. The reason for the two hour window is because I expect you to group up and ration a strong Deflect between yourselves at all times. You never know when an enemy could be hiding just behind a door or a balcony. In theory, we have all the time we need to destroy this town, but the situation can change at any moment. If we can hold out and do reasonable damage, we can wait for reinforcements from the other Platoons and make a final push to destroy their logistics in the area before the enemy finds a solution for us. The enemy might even have some new weapon they have not used yet. We must stay vigilant.”
She looked at them sternly.
“There is a good chance that even with all my preparations, we all could die. I hope you keep this in mind and take this one small step at a time. Is that understood?”
They seemed to smile at that and saluted their approval. Tanya fought to keep a scowl off of her face, but it helped that her adjutant next to her still had a serious expression on her face.
‘Only this batch of nutcases could smile like this in the face of their own deaths! At least my adjutant is not like them. Hopefully, I can trust her to remain rational and level-headed.’
---
October 16th, 1908, Eastern Suburbs, Millersburg, Creta Occupied Area – Visha POV
The 203rd Battalion’s 1st Platoon rode in a column of 6 armored cars through the scenic countryside and quaint farmland. The lightly suburban area made up the eastern approach to Millersburg. Dawn was just breaking and some of the Creta civilians – former Amestrian civilians – were making their way out into the fields to begin a hard day of labor or walking along the side of the road towards the town. Visha could only wonder if their blasé attitude towards the back-and-forth occupation of their city was a learned behavior, or if all civilians thought like that. She thought back to her time in Drachma and felt that the civilians were a lot more vocal with their opinions for one side or another. In hindsight, the populace leaving things to the military was for the best.
Due to their preparations, the people watching them drive by would not realize they were an Amestrian strike force ready to destroy their beloved town. While their black uniforms and masked faces would normally cause concern, their vehicles and clothing lacked any of the tell-tale markings of Amestris. This seemed pointless since only Amestris could have ordered their mission and only soldiers carried it out. Instead, their clothing was to avoid tracing back their activity to the 203rd Battalion and the secret Operation Orb project. Their alchemy weapon was – in Tanya’s own words – “War-changing and unmatched… so long as it remains a secret”.
Their commander did not need to say the hidden other meaning of her orders. By rule of law, they were “non-uniformed soldiers” and could not expect to be treated as prisoners of war if captured. Their mission would either succeed, or they would have to die and destroy their Orbs instead of capture. That Tanya went along with this was testament to how fearless and brave she was in the face of adversity.
Despite the sobering thought on the nature of their mission, Visha could not keep a small smile off her face. Being in the rear-most vehicle, she could not help but stare longingly at her commander’s car leading the way towards their objective.
‘Of course Tanya would lead the convoy, just like she‘s the one leading the most dangerous mission personally. Any other commander would stay behind to coordinate or prioritize the mission over the small chance that any of us could get wounded, but Tanya always finds a way to plan for everything and worries incessantly about us. It just isn’t right! We have to do our best to show how capable we are if it means our Ray of Hope can worry even just a little bit less.’
“I know it isn’t really for me to say, but we are all with you on this Lieutenant.”
She looked away from the Major’s car to see that the 3 other soldiers with her were all smiling in her direction. She looked to the speaker – Sergeant Hoffmann – and chuckled.
“Well, I suppose I have been pretty obvious, but there’s just so much work we need to do to prove that the Major can trust us! You should have seen the amount of planning she’d done for this mission. Meetings with the General Staff in the morning, studying in the library without a lunch, and working until midnight in the map room budgeting the travel time for every small bit of traveling. She was working 12 hours a day with only 6 hours of sleep… on a good day. Officers don’t do that for just anyone, you know?”
Through their balaclavas, Visha could see the other soldiers smile. Sergeant Hoffman rubbed his head and groaned.
“I don’t know what I did in my former life to deserve this, but I don’t feel worthy of it. I just wish there was some way we could prove to her that we are capable of doing more than just the minimum. At least she has opened up a little bit to you Adjutant. I hope you know that the rest of the Battalion is downright envious of your ability to worm your way into the Major’s heart.”
Visha blushed.
“You make it sound like a bad thing.”
He shook his head quickly.
“Oh no, no. You have me all wrong. It’s only thanks to you that she’s sleeping normally and drinking decent quality food and coffee. Honestly, we are just frustrated that we couldn’t find some way to help her ourselves!”
The others nodded along and Visha herself could not help but partially agree. While she was sure the Major could have fixed these problems herself, it was also true that she jointly worked with her to enforce a more reasonable schedule. It took a lot of argument, but they found one that they could both agree with. Unsurprising, the efficient and capable Major followed the routine to the minute, and Visha had already noticed an improvement in her mood and her skin was already starting to have a more rosy tone compared to the abnormal porcelain complexion that had been clearly caused by a lack of nutrients.
‘It sounds strange to say this about a child, but I was really worrying that Tanya would have wrinkles before she even had the chance to drink beer!’
Just like the Major’s daily routine, the time-keeping of their current mission was also going perfectly on schedule. At exactly 7:15am, the Major came on the radio, interrupting their discussion.
“Pixie, this is Pixie Actual. We are on final approach to Fortress for Act 1. All teams sound off readiness.”
Everyone chuckled softly. It had taken a lot of work for the Platoon to convince the Major on the use of “Pixie” as their Platoon call-sign, but it was one of the rare times the Battalion came together to refuse the Major. Visha was quick to respond along with the others with her team designation.
“Pixie-6 ready.”
As she responded, the six cars approached a security checkpoint leading into the logistics center of the city. A simple wooden log held in place by two posts blocked the road to normal traffic. A single Cretan Infantryman stood guard in a nearby wooden cabin. Calmly, the guard made his way towards the middle of the road and casually waved in their direction.
Rather than slowing down, however, the lead vehicle accelerated. The guard at the station dived out of the way just in time for the armored car to smash into the log behind him. The heavy steel vehicle tore the log off its posts and it tumbled into a nearby building. As the guard made to stand up, he was shot and killed by someone in another car.
Without a word, the first shots of their platoon in a real engagement had sounded off. Sergeant Hoffmann chuckled and nodded to Visha.
“Well, I guess it’s time to get serious.”
Without speaking, she activated her Deflect and noticed from the faint glow of Orbs in the vehicles in front of her that the other teams had done the same. The Major’s plan was that from the first shot until the last one, one person in each car was to have Deflect on at all times unless they were all fully behind strong cover.
They were silent as the six cars raced down the main thoroughfare of the town. Their horns blared through the morning din, signaling for the largely agrarian traffic of horses and civilians walking down the narrow street to move out of the way. In most cases, the civilians heard the commotion and got out of the way in time, but in at least one instance, a car smashed head-on into a civilian. The person made audible and visible thumps as the car ran them over and she heard several screams from people nearby.
Visha could not help but wince in spite of the hypocrisy and could see through the balaclavas of her comrades in the car that they had similar expressions. It would no doubt be the first of many civilian casualties she would see, but she would not do them the disservice of ignoring her own part in ending an innocent life.
‘We’re doing this to end the war, but I can only imagine what the Major must feel like. If there’s anyone who can empathize with someone, it’s her.’
Soon they found themselves at the Millersburg Central Station. Despite the small size of the town, the station was massive and had – at least, according to the Major – historically been a major center for copper, shipping the ore from the nearby mountains all around the world. A rail yard dominated the far side of the station. On their side, a large plaza filled with crates, trucks and horses dominated the approach. As could be expected during wartime, the plaza was brimming with workers and soldiers alike moving crates and organizing the string of carts and trucks lining up even at this early hour of the morning.
Without a word, the six cars parked in a row, blocking anyone from using the road they came on. Five of the six teams disembarked and rushed their way towards the station. The 18 black figures brimming with modern weapons did remain unnoticed for long.
“Halt!”
“What are you doing?! Stop!”
“Get out of here! Now!”
Shouts from the soldiers on both sides intermingled as the civilians seemed either too stunned or ignorant of the current danger. This quickly resolved itself when their Platoon opened fire on a few isolated guards or shot their weapons into the air. In a panic, the citizens began running away towards the various side streets and houses along the edge of the station plaza. With the plaza thinning out, Visha too swung the heavy MG15 LMG from her back and hit the deck. Engaging the foldable bipod at the end of the water-cooled barrel, she laid into the guards with accurate fire.
A few of the soldiers were quick and smart enough to see the danger and dove into cover.
They did not last much longer. With a yell, the Major rushed in and others from her 1st Squad did the same. In moments, they ruthlessly dispatched the enemy with a bayonet in close quarters. Visha could not help but feel a little inadequate.
‘Damn it, if our Team was just a little closer, we could have taken care of them without the Major dirtying her hands!’
The plaza was silent. The twenty-or-so guards at station had been killed and the remaining workers had all fled. The Major let out a shrill noise from a whistle on her neck which signaled their transition into the next phase. They all regrouped at the entrance as the Major gave out their orders.
“I want the Enlisted to spread out and secure the Station and the cars. Do not be shy in keeping any threats far away. I do not want Creta to get an estimate on our true numbers just yet. The NCOs of even teams will coordinate that. The remaining NCOs and my Adjutant will come with me and secure the objective. Remember, we want a map and any manifests that give an account of what’s in these warehouses. Understood?”
“”Yes Major!””
They rushed into the station only for Visha to immediately encounter a significant problem. Every room she investigated had cabinets filled with papers. Unlike Amestris, it seemed that Creta was not so diligent in minimizing or organizing the amount of paperwork it created. It could take days for her to rummage through all this.
Desperately, she tried simply opening every room she could. Rather than thoroughly explore every nook-and-cranny, she just looked for some convenient solution to her problem: a map hanging on a wall or a ledger labeled “Directory of every warehouse”. Anything.
Instead of that, she found the next best thing. A female telegraph operator – in the uniform of the Creta military – was wearing a set of headphones and listening to her telegraph with a complete lack of awareness. She seemed intensely focused on the small paper tape being printed from the receiver and was writing something onto a pad of paper.
‘Is she just completely unaware? We were not quiet outside and a well-armed stranger just barged into your room…’
Visha took advantage of the situation by taking out her Luger and destroying the telegraph before the woman had a chance to send any potentially damaging information. In a rush, she ran into the woman and they both toppled to the floor. The Creta soldier looked up to her with visible fear.
“Who are you and-?!”
Visha cut off the soldier by roughly pushing one arm against her neck and choking her. Using her other hand, her jammed her Luger into the woman’s temple.
“You are going to lead me to what I want right now… is that understood?”
Visha was surprised a the lack of guilt for both this and her first kills outside the station. She had been dreading for months if she would choke up, if she would succumb to a lack of ‘male ruthlessness’ she had been criticized of lacking in the Academy. She had been worried that she might not have the guts to be an officer and fail the unit. Instead, she confidently felt she could proclaim herself to be a soldier. If anything, she felt a swell of pride.
‘I’m so glad that I was finally able to do some of the dirty work for once. I hope that the Major will learn to trust us with more of the hard work going forwards. I don’t want her thinking she should leave us behind!’
The smile Visha was showing made the woman underneath her cry in fear.
---
A little negotiation and Visha had what she was after. A few minutes later, she grabbed the pile of maps and documents and rushed to tell the Major the good news.
She waited for the Platoon to regroup with the Major. She made sure to tell everyone the whole incident in detail. She was just so happy to finally be over her civilian hesitation. The Major heard her explanation with an unchanging smile that had Visha feeling both vindicated and proud. She noticed Sergeant Hoffmann gave her a big ‘thumbs up’ which caused her to look away in embarrassment.
The Major took the documents and nodded.
“Excellent work in… gathering this information Lieutenant. You really showed a ruthlessness that I was not expecting. Well, we now have everything we need. Everyone take copies and we will coordinate as planned. Everyone clear on their objectives?”
They all saluted in unison.
““Yes, Major!””