The Finest Hour Read online

  The members of the 10th Division...were prepared to die. Just like Horatius, they would protect the fatherland as gatekeepers. That's why, no matter what it takes, I have to call reinforcements while they buy time. If he was too late, the service of those heroes would be all for naught. I've got to fly.

  Thus, though he was still bewildered, Vianto shouted warnings and orders to intercept as he wove his way through the jumble of soldiers, and as soon as he was up, he flew desperately toward the rear headquarters with all the speed he had.

  But before he could get enough altitude, he had to take erratic evasive maneuvers.

  The optical sniping formulas raining down on him couldn't have come from more than a company's worth of mages. But the scale of the attack was nothing compared to the reality that imperial mages had penetrated this far into their territory---a curse escaped him.

  Or should he have been amazed at their skill? They're so good at war it makes me sick.

  "Ngh! Shit, you rotten potato bastards!" he spat as he deployed a series of optical deception formulas not to repulse the enemy but to help him get away.

  At the same time, he needed to avoid pursuit, so though his consciousness was threatening to fade, he willed it to stay bound to this world and whipped his agonized lungs, ascending to 8,500.

  Immediately after that, the enemies who seemed like they would follow him fired several explosion-type formulas, undisciplined, perhaps as a diversion, and then turned around, abandoning him.

  There was some distance between them now, but surely wiping out everyone at the HQ facilities was a higher priority for enemy command than taking Vianto out. The inhuman rationalism of their disgustingly clear sense of purpose sent a chill up his spine.

  What it meant was that...the friendly HQ that had just sent him out would come under fire.

  The relief of escaping pursuit clashed with the shame of sacrificing his fellow soldiers to escape---his current circumstances were infuriating; there was nothing he could do.

  "I'm sorry... Shit! Why...why did this happen?"

  His clenched fists trembled with anger as he choked out his fury at an oxygen-poor altitude. Really, this was the situation his kind were meant to prevent, and that realization gave birth to outrage toward the enemy mage unit freely attacking their frontline command post. So why am I leaving the ground troops as lures and running away?

  It was so pathetic and humiliating.

  A tsunami of indescribable emotions was welling up inside him, but he repressed even that and focused completely on flying with all his might toward the rear---because it was his mission, in order to avert the collapse of the front, even if he had to sacrifice everything to complete it.

  "...HQ, come in. HQ? Ahh, shit, it won't connect. What are the air defense controllers doing right when I need them?"

  Which was why, spurred by impatience, he furiously continued calling the Rhine Army Group headquarters even though they weren't answering. Of course, he knew what the situation was. He realized it must have been utter chaos.

  But Vianto couldn't help but feel some contempt. How could they have let imperial mages penetrate so far into our territory without so much as warning us? Are the air defense controllers taking a nap or what?

  The only emotion he could summon was disgust. Especially because once initial interception was delayed, enemy contact would be disorganized.

  "...Calling Rhine Army Group Headquarters. Rhine Army Group Headquarters, come in! I say again, Rhine Army Group Headquarters. Rhine Army Group Headquarters, please respond!"

  Are the waves just not reaching them because I'm still a ways away? Irritated at the thought, he continued calling via his computation orb, but the lack of response was getting frustrating.

  Why does this have to happen now? All he could do was fly on, burning up with impatience.

  "Agh, damn it! Did the radio operator fall asleep? It's kind of a bad time!"

  So he continued unleashing his rage at HQ as he flew near the limit of combat speed. Then he saw it.

  "...What is this?"

  Cratered land. The headquarters facilities smoking, in flames.

  It was the cluster of facilities that had been known as Rhine Army Group HQ.

  The soldiers running to and fro on the ground performing rescues and fighting fires were clad in Republican uniforms.

  So this was where the Rhine Army Group headquarters was.

  This was the place.

  This place giving off black smoke, plunged into a crucible of unsalvageable confusion, this place was...?

  "This is HQ? Of all the..."

  MAY 26, UNIFIED YEAR 1925, AT SEA: IMPERIAL SUBMARINE CONNING STATION

  The interior of a submarine is, albeit by necessity, terribly cramped. For that reason, most inexperienced passengers end up grumbling about how they keep bonking this or that part of their body against something.

  That's what normally happens.

  "Excuse me, Captain Treizel, you called?"

  The one who passed nimbly through the hatch without even ducking was the aerial mage battalion commander Major Tanya von Degurechaff.

  She was the only one the crew wouldn't get to tease about bumping down the passages in confusion, at least not for a while.

  Why? Because she had an exceptional body, in a way. Even sailors of the shortest stature would need to stoop to move around inside the sub, but her height clearly presented no issue.

  ...And even if someone wanted to go out of their way to comment on it, anyone with a lick of sense would think twice upon seeing the many service ribbons she wore as proof of her brilliant achievements.

  "How's the ride, Major?"

  "It's been quite tranquil, sir, thank you. And the food is so delicious that I can't hold back tears of gratitude."

  As they exchanged leisurely greetings, Major von Degurechaff saluted in the naval style with a precisely bent elbow.

  The captain suddenly wondered if he should be impressed or repulsed, but he responded with an army-style return salute.

  It was his boat, but he could still show a passenger respect.

  In fact, he wanted to show respect to her---after all, the little lady getting a lift was an old hand, casually sporting service ribbons for every sort of medal given to those serving in the field, not the least of which was the Silver Wings Assault Badge.

  "I thought mages were treated as magic army members and given high-calorie diets?"

  "I don't mean to be contrary, Captain Treizel, but most of what we're given is blocks of nutritional supplements. Even things like canned fruit and white sausage are rare..."

  And she handled the flattery between combat unit commanders in different fields with aplomb. Even just the commanding officers having a cordial relationship could make it easier to avoid quarrels in a small community, so the exchange was compelled by necessity.

  Still, he was happy to hear Degurechaff grumble about how great the food was on the submarine.

  Having a chef who could make use of the tiny onboard kitchen and limited utensils, but who also did their best to be creative, was something for a submarine crew to be proud of, even more than other naval units.

  "It's a perk you only get on a sub, where it's very hard to find anything else to enjoy."

  "Even so, isn't it awfully elaborate?"

  "You can tell? Ah, maybe your young tongue is more sensitive to the difference. All right, I'll let you in on it... We actually poached an outstanding cook from Fleet Command! Still, more than anything, I'm glad the taste is to your liking. There really isn't much else to look forward to. It may be cramped in here, but I hope you'll enjoy mealtimes."

  Long patrols, endless routine. Yes, to a submarine crew, patrol duty essentially meant each day would be no different from the last. Until an enemy ship was spotted, they could only earnestly endure the idle hours. And the result of that, the captain grumbled in his head, is that when the torpedoes we were recently issued were discovered to have defects, the submarine captains took the
ir anger out on the Technology Department instead of enemy ships.

  Hence, for some time, Treizel and the other submarine captains had been getting particularly good treatment when it came to food in an attempt to mollify them. The outstanding cook was one instance.

  "When the state is so understanding, it usually means there's something else going on."

  "I'm not sure that suspicion is warranted. Come now, Major!"

  The two of them grinned. Commanders knew that if high command happened to show some consideration, it meant they had their reasons.

  "Oh, please extend my thanks to the sub that pulled that feint for us off the coast of Norden."

  "Hmm? You were up in those waters?"

  "Yes, the submarine provided a splendid distraction. I was touched by the Technology Department's minute thoughtfulness in issuing 'diversionary blast torpedoes.'"

  "Ha-ha-ha! We were so thankful to the developers that we invited them to a party on board in appreciation of their work."

  "What a beautiful friendship. I'm envious." Though Degurechaff was joking around more than usual, her tone contained some slight resignation.

  The captain replied with the smile of someone in on a secret and added one other thing. "Yes, it's just as you say. Oh dear, oh dear, I almost forgot."

  "Sir?"

  "We received a message just a bit ago... Operation Lock Pick is under way."

  "Excuse me while I take a look."

  The smirky vibe of their conversation up to that point was gone. Degurechaff took the telegram and ran her eyes intently over it, nodded once, reread it, and then smiled in satisfaction.

  "Wonderful. Now the revolving door will work."

  It must have been subconscious, but with her eyes alight like those of a predator cornering its prey, she looked insane.

  Ahh, so that's why. That's why this young girl was given an alias---White Silver.

  "Cut off the rear and encircle them for a perfect annihilation. This will be the ideal mobile encirclement battle---one that ends in obliteration. What truly, truly wonderful news. With this, the fate of the Rhine front is decided." She exhaled. "This is just great."

  It was the sigh of a beast that had its prey right where it wanted it. But if she didn't have that mentality, there was no way she would have been given an elite aerial mage battalion at such a young age.

  "Yes, I'm a bit jealous. The General Staff told us to keep patrolling, but they ordered you to go immediately to participate in the decisive battle in the Low Lands."

  "Huh?"

  "We're currently heading east, quite a ways off the patrol line. We'll surface before dawn fully prepared for you to take off."

  Chosen specifically by the General Staff to return, sent on a special operation ahead of Operation Lock Pick---it seemed she and her unit were "exceptional" in all sorts of ways.

  "Thank you, Captain. Allow me to wish you everlasting luck in battle."

  "We've all been very honored to assist you. I wish you luck as well."

  Thus, as an imperial soldier, Treizel was proud that his boat had been able to lend a hand to such a unit. Everyone did the job they were meant to do.

  As such, Degurechaff was a fellow soldier he could be proud of, which was why he extended his hand in utmost seriousness to wish her well.

  Even if her hand was as small as his daughter's, this was a handshake with a fellow soldier.

  Upon leaving Captain Treizel, Tanya is relating the good news to her subordinates, who are clustered in the space the crew managed to find for them next to the forward torpedo tubes.

  "Attention, Company! Our battalion commander has instructions for us!"

  "Thanks, Lieutenant. All right, gentlemen. You can listen as you are. We're mooching a lift on this sub, so we should be more worried about causing trouble for the crew... Anyhow, I just heard from Captain Treizel that Operation Lock Pick is under way!"

  Her subordinates are hearing this for the first time, and from the tone of her voice, they gather it's something quite important, so they brace themselves to learn what it could mean.

  Their eyes ask, What's Operation Lock Pick?

  "It's one of the main offensives planned for the Rhine front. And, gentlemen, it's going well. According to the report, the leading group blasted through the enemy trench line. The main forces of the Republican Army are completely cut off in the Low Lands."

  Cheers go up.

  To veterans of the Rhine, a major operation, along with the expected changes in the state of the war it would entail, mean the victory they've been dreaming of.

  So many imperial soldiers sank into the muck to put them on a road to victory, and breaking the trench lines and tying down the enemy is what will take them there.

  "Troops, it's a complete encirclement. The main enemy forces are like a rat in a trap."

  "Complete encirclement" sounds to everyone like their long-cherished wish for victory. After all, a surrounded, isolated army can no longer be called an army.

  Unable to hide their excitement, her men whisper among themselves. They're so bubbly that normally Tanya would be confused---Are these really the select elites of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion?

  But today, she will generously affirm their behavior.

  Victory. It's such a spellbinding fruit.

  "This ship will participate in a mission to blockade the coast. We, on the other hand, will sortie before dawn tomorrow. We'll participate in the annihilation battle in the Low Lands and then return to base. The field trip lasts until we make it home. My brothers-in-arms, I won't forgive you if you race off to Valhalla without joining the victory banquet!"

  That's why, though she's giving them a warning, her tone is spirited. In order to taste the sweet nectar of victory, it's important to tighten the helmet straps even after a win.

  "All right, gentlemen, before we go to war, let's fill our stomachs. Captain Treizel and the crew have kindly furnished us with what little provisions they can. Drink as you like up until the twelve-hours preflight regulation cutoff. That is all!"

  Then she clinks glasses in hasty cheers with her nearest men. She celebrates imperial victory with canned food and instant coffee, and once the troops pull in some off-duty sailors and start drinking, she rises. "It's probably hard for you guys to let loose with me around," she says to Lieutenant Weiss, then withdraws.

  In this way, Tanya escapes the drinking party as a considerate superior officer and retires to the only captain's quarters on board, which Captain Treizel was extraordinarily kind enough to yield to her. Now she can think at her leisure.

  The topic is the upcoming war situation and how she should comport herself.

  The initial phase of Operation Lock Pick is a total success. As a result, the scales are tilted heavily in the Empire's direction. Under these circumstances, the Republic is almost certain to drop out of the fight. What's more, as long as we don't get Dunkirked,5 we should be able to end the war.

  In other words, de facto victory is right in front of us. Supremacy in battle---yes, victory. So Tanya understands that the end of the war, peace, and promotion---that wonderful future---hangs on the outcome of these operations.

  That truth gives her renewed hope. After all, humans are capable of working awfully hard when presented with a purpose. Right purpose, right method, fair compensation. It's actually quite a lovely labor cycle; I'm inspired.

  And there's next to no worry of being Dunkirked.

  After all, submarines, among other units, will be blockading the seaboard. And perhaps most importantly, the Imperial Army thoroughly demolished the proper Low Lands sea access point when they withdrew. On top of that, the underwater mines originally deployed to protect the port facilities are thick.

  Escaping by sea this way is impossible. So the Republican Army is literally a rat in a trap.

  Ahh, splendid!

  That satisfaction uproots her nagging hunch that they were in for a sorrowful defeat and tosses it out the window. It's more than enough to compe
nsate for her pent-up anxiety and exhaustion. And with the strings of tension loosened, Tanya, who also has a cozy bed for the first time in long while, gives herself readily over to sleep and is able to get a good rest.

  In this way, while her partied-out subordinates struggle to wedge their long bodies into the cramped crew beds in the torpedo tube room, Tanya enjoys her peaceful nap.

  Then, having relished every last wink of her unbelievably comfortable sleep, she stretches her back in anticipation of a great morning, inquires as to the boat's whereabouts from the duty officer on the bridge, and nods in satisfaction.

  "Ahh, Major, you're awake?"

  "Oh, morning, Lieutenant Weiss. Were there any idiots trying to pull pranks on Lieutenant Serebryakov while she slept?"

  "Rest easy, ma'am. The boat hasn't sunk, so I think perhaps not."

  "Ha-ha-ha!"

  Chatting with Lieutenant Weiss and the duty officer, who apparently had been discussing the weather, Tanya is even able to experience the joy of a quiet morning aboard the submarine for a moment.

  "She's on a perpetual battlefield like you, Major. If any numbskulls had attacked her while she was sleeping, I'm sure the hull would have been breached."

  "I'll agree to disagree. We can't start the morning off with a pointless debate. What's our situation?"

  The ability to have trivial conversations can't be underestimated. Especially in extreme circumstances, soldiers who can't crack a smile will be useless before long. On that point, Tanya is impressed by the sense that life goes on even in the belly of this submarine, proof of humanity's greatness, but she remembers their important duties and obligations and cuts the frivolous conversation short.

  "I woke everyone up. They must be sober by now. I'm sure they're in better shape than during our endurance training."

  "Very good. If anyone collapses due to a hangover, we'll have to throw them into the sea to ice their head."

  As she is getting the unit's status from Lieutenant Weiss and thanking him for saving her time, a naval officer addresses her.

  "Excuse me, Major von Degurechaff. I have a message from Captain Treizel. We're almost at the appointed coordinates."