by Carlo Zen
There’s something you learn if you read a lot of self-improvement books: Decisions that aren’t made in time are pointless. Judgments that come too late mean nothing. Of course, it goes without saying that careless decisions are prohibited.
In other words, the most important thing is balance. We can call it an essential skill for any managerial profession.
And on this most inauspicious day, the sky over the freezing Northern Sea has poor visibility. Not only is this the absolute worst possible weather to fly in, but also the fact that we encountered a submarine of unknown nationality over the water on our way home is a turn of events so unlucky I feel like something is wrong with the theory of probability.
And now that we’ve found it, Tanya, as the most senior officer, is forced to deal with it.
She has her troops fan out, and when she glances at their faces, she sees eyes so serious it makes her sick. Just one shot can kill almost a hundred of our own species. And their expressions mean business—these soldiers will do their best not to miss. I really hate this world. May ruin befall this place where humans can’t act like humans.
And fuck the war laws, too, while we’re at it, Tanya grumbles in her head.
Way to blow it by having no provision about a right to innocent passage for submarines. Were you planning on appealing to the principle of legality? Or waiting for a decision from a maritime court? This isn’t a joke.
Before my eyes, a submarine of unknown nationality is attempting to rapidly flee underwater from us, the Imperial Army. This has to happen when I’m in charge, of all times. It’s moving awfully fast and will probably be completely submerged in less than a minute. But although a minute isn’t much, we do currently have it.
Right now, we can still make it in time.
Submarine armor is as flimsy as paper. My battalion is prepared for anti-ship combat, so we can sink a sub instantaneously.
I can’t help but feel the eyes of my men turn to me, hoping for permission to attack. It’s practically the same look a hunting dog uses to ask permission from its master. Externally, Tanya’s unfazed, but inside she’s raging.
I’m the one in charge. To put it another way, I have to take responsibility.
Sink a boat of unknown nationality? That’d be idiotic! thinks Tanya, flatly rejecting that fantasy.
The law of war doesn’t permit fighting except between countries in conflict. And the worst part is that there are boats from the Commonwealth sailing near here. I should break war laws right in front of a neutral country?
The various ensuing problems would wring my neck. It’d be a way bigger issue than compliance. If I don’t want to become a political scapegoat, I have to maintain at least a veneer of reason.
So do I let it go? Before my eyes? Without inspecting it even though we’re right above it? That could develop into a huge hairy mess in the Imperial Army. It already looks like I’m forcing a lot of issues in the military org (even though I’m doing it because I have no choice), so if I let a sub of unknown nationality get away, they wouldn’t just let me off the hook. It’s an unknown boat operating in these waters. It must have some awfully important cargo. I can’t overlook that, either.
And with a little effort, that sub can get away in two days underwater. As long as we don’t have sonar of some kind, it’ll be practically impossible to find it again if I let it go now.
…Why? Why must I be driven into this kind of corner?
What started all this, the root of Tanya’s suffering in this dilemma, was a radio message received after the fight with the Entente Alliance ship as we were on our way back to base.
“…Commander! Urgent report of a suspicious boat running dark in our territorial waters at two o’clock.”
I didn’t expect to find anything, but if we’re flying we get paid for it, so we headed away from base and ended up involved in a fight with the Entente Alliance.
It happened just as Tanya had started grumbling about how if she couldn’t warm up by the fireplace with a warm cup of coffee she wouldn’t be able to go on.
A report of a suspicious boat arrived. Apparently, some industrious guys found it.
Who is doing more work than they get paid for? She was half-impressed and half-disgusted as she cocked her head and then sighed in irritation that she would have to work extra hours—with no overtime pay—to deal with it.
My battalion was somewhat worn out by the unforeseen battle we had just been in. I couldn’t imagine wanting to actively enter combat. But we weren’t hurting so badly that we had to avoid it altogether.
“Well, we can’t ignore it. Challenge it.”
It was a situation that couldn’t be ignored, and even though my battalion was on its way back to base, I acquiesced since we were the nearest force. Albeit reluctantly, Tanya and her battalion arrived at the reported sector that had been reported, and they discovered the suspicious boat.
“Is it one of our transport ships? Check the nationality.”
“It’s a cargo-passenger ship from the Commonwealth, the Lytol.”
When she called and got a response, it was even more troubling.
It wasn’t strange for a Commonwealth cargo-passenger ship to be there, but that didn’t mean she could just let it go.
“…Tell them we’re boarding.”
“Are you sure? If it takes too long, it will affect our return time…”
“We can’t ignore it now that we challenged it. It’s in waters between countries at war.”
The boat’s nationality was too problematic to ignore, which was also a pain.
Yes, ships from neutral countries have the right to come and go as they please, but at the same time, we have the right to board in the territorial waters of the country at war. Obnoxiously, if we didn’t inspect this ship, I would need a good reason for it.
It’s just one thing after another. How annoying. I want to do my job efficiently, but it’s not as if I want to work, so there’s no way this will end well.
“Lytol, this is the Imperial Army General Staff’s 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion. We order you to submit to inspection. Cut your engines immediately. I say again, cut your engines immediately.”
“This is Lytol. We are a vessel from a neutral country, the Commonwealth, so we do not believe we are under obligation to comply.”
“Lytol, this is the Imperial Army. Are you carrying any military personnel? Or are you operating under the orders of military personnel?”
“Lytol to the Imperial Army. We’re not required to answer those questions.”
“Imperial Army, roger. Lytol, if that is your decision, we’re unable to recognize your immunity to boarding as a neutral country’s warship. This is a warning that if you refuse inspection, it will be considered a hostile action and you will be classified as a hostile nation’s vessel. I say again, if you refuse inspection, it will be considered a hostile action. We will have no choice but to sink you.”
“Lytol, we’ve cut our engines.”
“Good. Start the inspection. Lieutenant Weiss, your company is the boarding party.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The rest of you, keep watch over the area.”
Tanya wanted to pull her hair out, the legal exchange was such a pain in the ass, but just as she was pushing the boarding duty onto her subordinates and having the smallest acceptable party pull up alongside the ship, something else happened.
“Wait a minute. What’s that?” Lieutenant Serebryakov asked, pointing at something on the surface. She seemed to have found something in the mist over the sea. Drawn by her question, several people followed her gaze and…bingo, I suppose you could say? There was the cargo-passenger ship flying the Commonwealth flag plus a submarine of unknown nationality.
…And if I wasn’t seeing things, they seemed to be transferring something.
It goes without saying that these were two British ladies15 enjoying a secret meeting.
They couldn’t be unrelated. I most certainly wanted to inqu
ire about their relationship. I might have seemed like a paparazzo, and you could say it was bad manners, but I just hoped they’d find it in their hearts to forgive me.
Another extra job to do? Tanya lamented. As she was about to send out another boarding party, she was suddenly unsure what to do.
Submarines go underwater, as their name implies, but war laws cover only surface boarding rules; there’s nothing pertaining to boats that can dive. After all, submarines are a relatively new type of vessel.
Since they are used in proxy wars, there is research being done into counter-sub combat and ways to stop them, but most navy personnel are extremely under-informed. Still, it’s crazy that there is nothing in the naval war laws about submarines. I realized it was only a matter of time before unrestricted submarine warfare was declared.
But every second Tanya fretted, the situation was developing. The sub was trying to dive before her eyes. In a few minutes, it would be deep enough that our attacks might not reach—it would be able to make a calm getaway.
“Ngh. Lieutenant Weiss, capture the Lytol with your company!”
I figured we should hurry. I wanted to keep them from hiding evidence before the inspection.
But what about the critical submarine?
If it refuses to be boarded, I can shoot, but first it has to be a warning shot. That’s the standard protocol demanded by the law of war. Submerging isn’t denying inspection. Annoyingly, my opponent has slipped through a legal loophole.
I love slipping through legal loopholes, but I hate it when other people do it to me.
What suddenly crosses my mind is compromise… Does it really matter how deep the mire goes?
I’m in this bog already. If I’m already covered in mud, it’s not a big deal if another kind of mud gets involved. I’d hesitate to get clean white sheets all dirty, but throwing a ball of mud covered in mud into the dirt won’t hurt it.
“…All units on standby, prepare to attack the submarine! Ready a warning!”
“Major?!”
“Fire sniping formulas! If it doesn’t comply with orders to halt and starts to dive, blow its conning tower off!”
All we can do is shoot.
“All hands, at the same time, prepare to subdue the target. Avoid direct hits. This is for intimidation purposes only.”
So I’ll choose the route that isn’t pitch-black, even if it is dirty.
The law of war doesn’t prohibit shots across the bow. As long as we don’t hit them directly, we can claim they were warning shots. We can’t call diving refusing inspection, but it’s not exactly cooperative, either. If we’re firing warning shots to urge compliance, legally speaking, that’s got to be the whiter part of gray—in other words, white.
“All hands! Assault formation! Prepare to fire warning shots!”
The company commanders repeat the orders. My men have just enough self-control to wait when told to heel. If I tell them to intimidate, they should intimidate. Submarines have such wimpy armor that one depth charge is enough to crush it. If we blow multiple heavy explosion formulas in its immediate vicinity, it won’t be able to keep diving. Then all we have to do is stroll aboard once it surfaces.
“You got that? No direct hits!” So I repeatedly emphasize that we’re not trying to sink it. If it sinks, I’ll really be in trouble. “The opponent is a sub. One depth charge is enough to cave in its armor. Stop at a few near misses! I’m not listening to any excuses if you sink it!”
What did they put on board? Depending on that cargo, this could be a major achievement. We can’t go lending them a hand by sinking them and erasing all the tangible evidence.
We have to secure it.
“Jawohl, Frau Major!”
“Good! Gentlemen, that Commonwealth vessel is watching. Make sure you don’t humiliate us!”
Everyone swiftly gets into formation. The sub doesn’t have any anti–air fire to speak of. Actually, anyone who would be scared of that should be shot. So yes, everyone has calmly—leisurely, even—assumed their positions. All that’s left now is to decide how much distance to keep.
Heavy explosion formulas are different from the simple kind. About ten meters away should do it.
Converted to gunpowder, they’re a hundred fifty kilos at most. There won’t be fragmentation; the water pressure will be enough.
“Stay ten—no, fifteen meters away from the hull!” The worry that ten meters won’t be enough suddenly crosses my mind.
Submarines are fragile. I’m not about to have them too close and send it to the bottom. Considering it’s half-intimidation tactic, half-warning, fifteen meters should be good. It might even be a little under-confident, since the water will dull the shock.
That said, it can’t be interpreted as an attack. We may be in waters where the Empire and Entente Alliance are at war, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to sink a vessel of unknown nationality. Which is precisely why commanders forced to make quick, delicate calls can never relax—I hate it.
“Warning fire at a distance of fifteen!”
“All right. Fire!”
That’s why I have them keep their distance.
I shout over and over, so there will be no confusion, that this is only for intimidation.
It must be recorded in the unit logs.
And the fact that I clearly stated to keep fifteen meters away should be in the firing data table. In other words, I’m compromising myself as little as possible. We’ve seen it, so the best thing we can do is perform our duty.
I pour a hefty dose of mana into the computation orb in my hand and put it in firing mode. The cores regulate the energy, and I aim near the submarine my unit is trying to keep from diving.
It’s a company’s worth of disciplined fire from 360 degrees and fifteen meters away—the heavy explosion formulas burst in the water.
The huge splashes obscure the unidentified submarine.
“Second Company, descend! Prepare to board the sub when it comes up.”
Well, they were warning shots, but at that range, the sub is probably taking on water.
That’s the weakness of these vulnerable submarines. I’m sure a bunch of confidential materials will get ruined, so we have to capture it as soon as possible.
Meanwhile, the captain of the Commonwealth S-class submarine Syrtis was nearly panicking due to the report of an incoming mage battalion.
There’s a mole16 in the intelligence agency. He was aware of the rumors. He and his submarine crew were not about to lose to the subterranean, but unfortunately diving into intelligence and diving into the sea are two different things. They knew they had taken measures to preserve utmost secrecy.
Security was so tight that when they were dispatched, he could only tell his crew that they were performing an utterly normal navigation exercise. Only the captain knew the true identity of the “technical officer” from the Office of the Admiralty who was on board; only the captain knew about the sealed orders.
They had been so thorough that even the navigation officer wasn’t informed until after they had launched and were setting their course.
However…
There they were at the rendezvous point only a handful of people should have known about. They managed to make the transfer just as the report came in that the Imperial Army was approaching, and the situation rapidly deteriorated.
If that hadn’t happened, all they would have had to do was play dumb and get past the Imperial Army patrol line. What did it mean that an imperial mage battalion appeared out of nowhere just then?
The shock was so great that he momentarily locked eyes with the “technical officer” from the Office of the Admiralty.
“Multiple Imperial Army mages incoming! They saw our rendezvous with the Lytol!”
The enemy must have known about the cargo and the schedule. If not, they wouldn’t have shown up here. An auxiliary ship might have been conspicuous, but it’s nominally a civilian vessel. The Empire couldn’t be rough with a civilian vessel from
the neutral Commonwealth.
But if the vessel was of unknown nationality, handling it as a belligerent to some extent would be permissible.
If they had known that much planned a raid, there had to be a mole.
“They’re ordering us to halt!”
The radio operator’s shout jerked everyone back to reality.
The captain had to set aside his doubts for the time being and make it through this moment. An S-class submarine could dive to a depth of over a hundred meters. Even mages would have trouble following them if they submerged.
It would be a different story if they took a shot to the hull, but the law of war wasn’t clear on the definition of halting their ship.
No, submerging was not officially recognized as fugitive behavior. After all, the rules were written before boats went underwater.
“Cut off all radio communications! Emergency dive!”
All they had to do was dive before the mages were on them. Maintain radio silence, refuse transmissions, and dive, just like that. He thought they would be able to escape that way.
But his forecast was naive. Just as they opened the vents…
The observer shrieked a warning, and the captain learned, whether he wanted to or not, their opponent’s lack of scruples.
“M-multiple mana signals detected! All hands, brace for…”
They were going to shoot. When he realized that, his head told him to grab hold of something, but the warning was so unexpected that his body wasn’t moving the way he wanted it to.
Not many on the crew could get their bodies to cooperate. I have to move. Everyone thought so, and when they reached their hands out, they heard a roar. Then came a series of huge shocks to the hull, the captain noticed that he felt weightless as the attacks landed, and he lost consciousness.
“Captain?! Shit! Medic! The captain’s wounded! Get to the conning station!”
He awoke to the sound of someone’s raised voice but not for long. Noting the captain’s condition, the first officer prepared himself to take command. The scenario was about as “worst-case” as it could get. Multiple hull breaches. Rapidly spreading flooding.