Chapter 4: Beneath the Two-Headed Eagle

Chapter 4: Beneath the Two-Headed Eagle

CHAPTER 4

BENEATH THE TWO-HEADED EAGLE

The 177th Armored Division’s headquarters’ large conference room was dimmed, with only the holo-screen’s light illuminating the faces of the gathered unit commanders. The Eintagsfliege’s jamming, blocking all efforts to observe the depths of the Legion’s contested zones, was as true for this room as it was for anywhere else in the Federacy, but the Federacy’s military wasn’t so incompetent as to neglect its reconnaissance duties.

There was something to be gained even from what fragments of information they could pick up. Fluctuations in the traffic. Noise signatures picked up by the self-propelled, unmanned reconnaissance probes, their numbers and bearing. The reports of the recon squads that ventured into the contested zones, risking life and limb.

“—In accordance with our findings, the integrated-analysis team has surmised that there is a high probability that the Legion are preparing to launch a large-scale offensive within the coming days.”

The major general in charge of the 177th Armored Division, seated in a leather chair at the back of the room, sighed at this report.

“We’d figured as much, and yet… The time is finally upon us.”

They had predicted the Legion would eventually stage an offensive to break through each of their fronts.

A shadow suddenly rose from the darkness. A young female officer—her blond hair cut short, her eyes a shade of purple, and her red lips smeared with refined rouge. Officers died one after another in the Federacy’s military, which sent them frequently out into the field, and yet, the rank insignia of lieutenant colonel—unusual for her age—glinted off her collar, and she wore the research division’s armband and a pilot’s medal on her chest.

“What is it, Lieutenant Colonel Wenzel?”

“Major General, sir. I’m sure the 177th Division will reorganize in preparation for this large-scale offensive. I would like to ask that you release my squadron on this occasion.”

The conference room buzzed with doubtful whispers. The air filled with a needlelike enmity, and the major general sighed as the beautiful woman before him beamed with a fierce confidence.

“The Reginleif is still in its testing stages. Whether or not they can withstand deployment on their own is still unknown, and as such, we will continue deploying them along with Vánagandrs.”

“But if I may, sir, the Nordlicht squadron holds the highest number of downed hostiles not just within the 177th Division, but within the 8th Army Corps as a whole. I believe this achievement stands as sufficient justification for their individual deployment.”

“And their number of casualties is equally high… I’m afraid a Feldreß that had half its forces killed in action upon its first deployment is simply not trustworthy.”

“Think of it as a sort of screening process. The rate of casualties since then has been decidedly low.”

A voice from somewhere in the conference room cut into her words.

“That’s a shameless enough thing to say, given that you’re relying on the Eighty-Six’s experience… Only a rehabilitated weapons dealer like you would ever send those poor children into battle again.”

The voice was steeped with far too much indignity for it to be banter, and the woman’s expression froze for a moment. Her eyes wavered, as if holding some emotion in them, but she restrained it the next moment and opened her mouth to speak again.

“My XM2 Reginleif’s mobility far surpasses the Legion’s, and depending on the strategy employed, its combat capabilities are in no way lower than theirs, either… If we are to prepare to intercept the Legion’s large-scale offensive when they far exceed our numbers, the group strategies we’re employing right now will not be effective. As such, we should go against conventional strategies and employ groups of select elites in few-versus-many combat.”

Having finished her statement, the beautiful woman flashed a softer smile. Her purple eyes were fixed on the major general before her. The commanding officer narrowed his eyes as he returned her gaze. She was his junior in the military staff college, and he could tell what this woman was thinking even without her having to say it.

Cut the bullshit and just say yes already, you stupid drone beetle.

Goddamn spider woman.

“In the name of the safety of our Federacy and its civilians, do properly consider how to best utilize my Reginleifs and the Nordlicht squadron, Major General, sir.”

The Legion’s forces successfully pushed into the second defensive line the following night but were pushed back by a counteroffensive staged by the Federacy army.

“—That’s fine and all, but can’t you do something about how they’re treating us…? They send us appeals for reinforcements left and right, but once they’re done with us, they just dump us into a hangar or a warehouse. Do they think we’re dogs or something?”

“I think the bases just aren’t equipped to accommodate us. Those are special reinforcements appeals, you know?”

They were sitting in a corner of a spare hangar that FOB 13 had provided for them as lodging. Raiden sat on a canvas that served as a makeshift bed, and Shin answered his question, sitting nearby on a substitute chair.

It was an early army morning. The sounds of this advance base’s personnel clamoring and the combatants getting ready to set out could be heard from outside the hangar. The base was coming alive, but they—who weren’t part of this base—didn’t have anything to do.

The Nordlicht squadron would usually be stationed at the rear division’s headquarters. But having been sent out to act as mobile defense personnel, they were in a somewhat peculiar position, as the base didn’t have a headquarters building for the rear forces.

To be specific, any base that sent appeals for reinforcements was in charge of providing them with supplies and lodging for their next sortie, and they were to operate from that base until they were summoned elsewhere. Those appeals were on a platoon—and not a squadron—level, and so the squadron was scattered across different bases. This had been their situation ever since they were assigned to Nordlicht.

Fortunately enough, advance bases would often welcome troops that weren’t assigned to them, depending on the results of battle, and had no shortage of makeshift beds and rations. The base did provide them with some lodging in the residential block, but that was allotted to their female members, Frederica included.

“The Reginleif is still considered to be in temporary trial usage, so they might not be willing to outfit them for us. I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t have the leisure to do it anyway.”

“Yeah, we got hit hard yesterday, after all… So according to your predictions, they should be coming soon, right?”

Shin shrugged at Raiden’s fleeting glance. The ability his brother had cursed him with remained active, even after he’d achieved his goal and defeated him, and still alerted him to the state of the army of ghosts. The situation wasn’t simple enough to sum up with “coming soon.”

“It’s more like they could attack at any moment… They’ve been ready for a long while now.”

But the base’s morning clatter drowned out the ghosts’ commotion, and it felt somewhat far away to Shin.

“—Our squad only ended up losing two members, Fabio and Beata from the second platoon. It wasn’t even such a dangerous situation, but an infantry unit was attacked by Grauwolf types, and there were some friends of theirs in there, so they rushed to defend it.”

They were walking through the residential block’s hallway, their footsteps squeaking against the floor. The Nordlicht squadron, which had no headquarters on the front lines, of course had no office for the squad’s captain or his vice captain to use. As such, Bernholdt followed half a step behind Shin, simply giving the report he normally would have delivered in the office on the go instead.

“This reduces the squadron to twenty. We’ve sent a request to have new members sent in, but the normal armored division got hit considerably hard, so I doubt they’ll have anyone to spare for us. We do technically belong to the research bureau and are a gathering of mercs… Plus, our head honcho is a weirdo even by military and research-bureau standards.”

Lieutenant Colonel Grethe Wenzel, commanding officer of the 1,028th Trial Unit. They’d seen her once, when they were appointed, but they hadn’t actually spoken to her.

“I’d bet people don’t think too highly of her, seeing as she developed the Juggernaut.”

“It’s the famous pilot killer that sent ten people to the hospital when it was only in its testing stages, after all. And she’s an heir to a long-running family of military-industrial-complex owners. Thanks to that, we have plenty of spare parts and rigs, but people like to call her an arms dealer for a reason.”

Shin replied to Bernholdt’s words in an indifferent manner.

“We’re used to not getting resupplied, be it equipment or man power. But it’s good so long as we still get spare parts.”

“I’ve already told you this, but the Republic was messed up for doing that. Please don’t judge us by your Eighty-Six standards of good and bad.”

Nonetheless, when Bernholdt had heard Shin was an Eighty-Six, he’d seemed mostly convinced. At the time, the Nordlicht squadron had only enough personnel to make up a battalion and had a regular army captain serving as its leader. He hadn’t been very capable, to put it mildly, and his lacking command had led to the death of many squad members, himself included.

The fact that Shin, who had been only the vice captain of a platoon at the time, had ended up taking over the role of captain was seen as an act of desperation. A green recruit straight out of the special officer program couldn’t fill this role.

But be that as it may…

“…You’d have had it easy in a standard armored unit. Why’d you come to such a wreck of a unit?”

“It’s easier for me here. A normal unit’s chain of command and combat regulations make it hard to move.”

When he was piloting the Republic’s “drones,” there were no combat regulations to uphold and no commanding officers to breathe down his neck—with the exception of their last one. He was too used to moving by his own judgment and taking responsibility for his own actions, and the Federacy’s standard military’s method of abiding by a commander’s judgment and obeying orders wasn’t one he could get behind.

Bernholdt scoffed.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing ‘it’s hard to move’ from a damn teenager… Well, I guess we’re not complaining so long as your orders don’t get us killed. Even if you are a stone-faced reaper and a snot-nosed brat who keeps rushing to the front despite being the commander and literally driving us insane with that noise if we Resonate with you.”

Ignoring the sarcasm steeped into Bernholdt’s words, Shin turned his gaze to the window. Outside, an open-top truck stood there on the paved road, surrounded by clouds of dust. In its trunk were black body bags, piled on top of one another like sacks of potatoes. Those were probably the remains of the soldiers who’d died yesterday.

The thought came to mind, suddenly, that Eugene had probably been collected by now. He’d been his contemporary, who’d said he fought for his family.

I could ask you the same thing.

Shin knew what Eugene was going to ask, but…how would he have answered if Eugene had asked him back then?

“Second Lieutenant? Second Lieutenant… Are you listening?”

Shin came to, realizing Bernholdt was looking at him dubiously.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I can understand. You brats actually sleep at night, and fighting through the night’s starting to get to you… But that’s, er, a bit of a problem, though,” Bernholdt said abruptly.

He stopped walking and looked ahead, visibly dumbfounded. Adjusting his gaze to match Bernholdt’s, Shin realized exactly what was bothering him. His eyes fell on the sight of Frederica, who was apparently suffering from lack of sleep. About several nights’ worth. She was waddling around barefoot in her pajamas, dragging her stuffed bear with one hand, and her hair was a mess.

Although it was a clear violation of army regulations, Bernholdt was originally a Vargus who put very little emphasis on discipline, and Shin, who originally piloted a drone, didn’t care at all. But she was wearing a blouse in place of pajamas, and its three top buttons were open. It was sliding off her right side, exposing her thin shoulders all the way down to her chest. She may have been ten years old, but it was still a problematic sight.

“Frederica, either go back to your room and change or go back to bed.”

“Uuuh. Kiri, comb my hair…”

Shin sighed once.

“Frederica.”

Her red eyes blinked once and then opened wide.

“Shinei… Pardon. I mistook you for…”

She gave him a proper response but kept on walking, which prompted Shin to grab her by the scruff of her neck. Anju had fortunately just come out, so Shin decided to let her handle things.

“Sorry, Anju. Could you handle this?”

“What’s wrong…? Ah, Frederica?! Look at yourself! Come here, quickly! Theo, can you go get Frederica’s uniform?”

“You’re dropping this on me? Aaah, fine.”

Theo, who happened to be passing by, changed directions and walked toward Frederica’s room. Watching him retreat, Bernholdt opened his mouth to speak.

“What was I saying, again…? Ah, right. We got another ‘package.’ HQ contacted us about it the other day.”

“Package…? Oh…”

Realizing what Bernholdt meant, Shin sighed. Six months or so after being rescued by the Federacy, they began receiving letters and goodwill packages from “well-intentioned civilians.” Even though Shin and the others weren’t small children, some included plush toys and picture books and letters filled with excessive emotion. Ernst didn’t disclose their personal information, so the Eighty-Six would be able to live peacefully in the Federacy. But that only cemented their image as “poor children who were persecuted by the terrible Republic.”