Plus Ultra

by Carlo Zen

  “No, the weather was so horrible. The fact that we even made contact twice was a fluke. It’s incredibly difficult to relocate a fleet.”

  There was nothing easy about finding something in the sea. Even a fleet of warships is nothing but a speck in the wide-open water.

  Unless you controlled all sides of an area, it was impossible to patrol it perfectly. How well you could do was practically up to probability. For that reason, the navy prioritized inferences based on past experience. To put it another way, the Imperial Navy’s lack of experience was enough to break them down into tears. Though the expansion of their “hardware” was on schedule, the personnel operating them still required improvements.

  “But that’s your job.”

  Still, it was true that griping wouldn’t get them anywhere. They didn’t need to be told that doing their best with what they were given was demanded of military men. In that case, the navy had to supplement their perfectly adequate hardware with “software” that could operate it in the form of quality manpower.

  “Still, I guess saying any more at this point won’t change anything.” Major General von Zettour figured that was enough useless finger-pointing and chimed in to end the venting.

  As far as he could tell, the army had already expressed most of their complaints and discontent. The navy was getting near the end of their rope. Any more of this was just a waste of time. Yes, he made up his mind to end the witch hunt and proposed that they work toward a realistic solution.

  “All we can do is consider our next step. Does the navy have anything to suggest?” After finishing his question, he gave a stern look to any army officers who seemed to have more to say and slowly took his seat. An officer from the navy stood, apparently waiting for the chance. What a young kid, Zettour thought as he changed gears.

  “We would like to prevent their meeting with the Republic by getting some assistance on the diplomatic front.”

  In the documents they’d been given, there was a plan that included an opinion from the Foreign Office. There was not a problem with the proposal per se. He actually thought it was fairly well put together. At least, it was reasonable.

  “Making use of the duties of neutral states, hmm? But do you think the Commonwealth will actually fulfill them?”

  But reason is not all that matters in a fight for the survival of a state. If that were the case, the world would already be Utopia, and the absence of a heaven on earth made their position clear.

  “The Foreign Office thinks it’s tricky. But honestly, they won’t, right?”

  The Commonwealth would probably just demand they leave within forty-eight hours. He didn’t think it would actually take measures to disarm them like it was supposed to. The military attaché’s confirmation would be resisted with procedural delays.

  By the time permission was granted, the boat would have left the bay.

  “In which case, those ships will waltz over to meet up with the Republic fleet.”

  “Ugh. That means Entente Alliance resistance will drag on.”

  Inconveniently for the Empire, the Commonwealth and the Republic had more than a little adjacent territorial water. Since it was out of the question to battle in the Commonwealth’s territory, there was no real way to prevent the ships from getting to the Republic once they’d lost them.

  And if the Entente Alliance ships were fighting with the Empire, it could create issues with convincing them to surrender. Look! Our navy’s fit as a fiddle! the enemy could say. They were trying to discourage further resistance at this juncture, so the issue had the capacity to develop into a headache.

  “…There’s not really anything else we can do but sink them ASAP.”

  There was no other way to rapidly gain control of the situation and minimize damage. They had to sink all those Entente Alliance ships.

  Missing a ship or two was one thing, but they had let them get away. Sinking a few enemy vessels was no longer enough to resolve the problem.

  The only option their current situation permitted was to swiftly sink as many ships as they could. That was the only way to stop the issue from evolving any further.

  “So the orders for the Northern Sea Fleet are still to promptly sink the ships?”

  “That works.”

  The navy had no objections, either.

  “We’ll continue to provide support. I just want to get this resolved as soon as possible.”

  GARRISON OF THE 203RD BATTALION, BATTALION HQ

  It had crystallized into something pure and tranquil…a madness that had precipitated as a faintly black sediment, then festered and condensed.

  Those nightmarish eyes seemed to invite insanity into everything they fell upon. It was all you could do to resist the bewitching gaze if it landed on you.

  “Your orders, please, Colonel.”

  Lieutenant Colonel von Lergen exhaled lightly and finally drew air into his lungs again. Sunlight streamed in through the window.

  It seemed a warm day for winter, but his body felt like it was enveloped in cold.

  The reason was simple—the incarnation of madness before his eyes.

  “Major von Degurechaff, you’re being transferred.”

  Preparations were under way for a large operation on the Rhine front—planned and drafted with an unprecedented amount of leverage from Major General von Rudersdorf, deputy director of Operations, and the support of Major General von Zettour.

  So they needed reinforcements.

  And they would need support for those reinforcements.

  Of course, as a bit of an obnoxious errand, there was a court-martial waiting for her at Central—a formality. After all, though she hadn’t realized it was a neutral country’s boat, she had sunk a Commonwealth submarine as a suspicious vessel in an unfortunate accident. That said, it would be a court-martial in form only.

  “Of course, I can’t say it won’t be a bother…but it’s really mostly a formality. I’m expecting your best.”

  “…So this’ll be a chance to redeem my reputation?”

  But the little major before him didn’t make an effort to understand any of that. Apparently, she was taking the unofficial transfer orders he’d shown her as bad news. Maybe she was also a bit nervous about the trial.

  She had a warped sense of responsibility, but the thought of being called to account made her shiver. A mere major had to take responsibility for everything. He had a strange feeling that something more horrifying than chilly air was blowing through the room. Or maybe like he had been hurled into the fissure separating normal and abnormal.

  “You succeeded in locating the enemy unit. It’s not your fault. Nobody was asking any more than that of you.”

  “I had our sworn enemy right in front of me, and I let them get away. Next time, next time, I’ll get them for sure.”

  His intercession didn’t accomplish anything. But the words weren’t just for show.

  That her unit had located the enemy at all in those horrible weather conditions was impressive. They had also dealt some damage to the enemy marine mages.

  Even if the results were not perfect, there was probably only one person who didn’t acknowledge them as acceptable.

  “Major?”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t repeat this mistake. I swear to you that it won’t happen again.”

  But that person wouldn’t acknowledge anything less than perfect. Horrifyingly, her frame of mind seemed to be a combination of bloodlust and patriotism molded into the form of a soldier’s psyche. Rather than a soldier, she was more a doll shaped like one.

  The words she repeated over and over, practically delirious, exuded a strange urgency.

  One time—just one time—she had gotten merely satisfactory results, and this was her state. How much of a perfectionist can you be?

  She has no interest in anything except for following her orders to the letter. What kind of education do you have to give a child to warp them like this?

  “…Don’t fret, Major. We’re ple
ased with what you’ve achieved. All you need to do is accomplish your missions.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t leave a single ship behind.”

  I’m not getting through to her at all. It looks like we’re having a conversation, but something is making us talk past each other. All I did was encourage her to accomplish her missions; why does that make this ball of insanity overflow with a will to fight and declare her intent to annihilate? How war crazy can you get?

  Though she’s the best the Empire has ever produced, she’s the worst war nut we’ve seen. Can a mere person be so joyful about killing their fellow men? Can a mere person carry out any and every military duty so faithfully with no hesitation?

  Unless your foundation as a human being was off-kilter, this level of incongruity was impossible.

  “No one at the General Staff Office has any issues with your actions, Major.”

  It was a fact he had to express to her as a messenger. Customarily, typical notices to unit commanders conveyed expectations that they eliminate enemy units. They were practically season’s greetings. But what he had to express this time was not superficial consolation but unmistakable forgiveness.

  But, but… In some corner of his mind, reason was warning him. This monster in front of you might actually do it.

  “But, Major…”

  Thus…

  “…if you do want to contribute to the fleet’s efforts…”

  He gave her as much consideration as his discretion would allow.

  “…it is planning a war game in the Northern Sea. I don’t think anyone would mind if you participated before going to the Rhine.”

  “I volunteer.”

  “Great. I’ll make the arrangements.”

  As she gave the reply he expected, Lergen caught himself feeling relieved that this would bring closure to the matter.

  “I wish you and your unit much success. Good luck.”

  Feeling a slight chill, he dutifully answered with the required encouragement, speaking quickly. She and her men were on his side, at least. As long as the tip of her spear isn’t pointed at my beloved fatherland, what is there to fear? He suffocated his mind with that question to deceive himself.

  “Thank you.”

  Whether she knew it or not as she bowed, Major von Degurechaff was an outstanding model soldier.

  BATTALION GARRISON, LARGE AUDITORIUM

  To express the feelings of Magic Major Tanya von Degurechaff in a nutshell: I’ve escaped by a hair.

  I was trembling in fear of a rebuke. But when I opened the envelope my friend Colonel von Lergen brought from the General Staff, it was just an administrative note. I really expected a reprimand over my failure in that mission, but I guess the brass is more lenient than I thought.

  Relieved, Tanya drains her cold coffee with an involuntary sigh and smiles wryly, thinking of how uncharacteristically nervous she’s been feeling.

  There’s the court-martial coming up. But it’s supposed be nothing more than a discussion held as a formality, which means Tanya’s been unofficially given a mostly unexpected pardon. She was only informed verbally, but given that it was the word of a staff officer, it has to be true.

  In other words, the fact that Lergen, someone she knows, delivered the note had to be a token of consideration from the higher-ups. Lergen’s report must be a roundabout way of saying that the brass hasn’t forsaken me yet. It’s a kindness that says, We’ll keep you around, so show us you can still get results.

  If I’m receiving this sort of understanding, the General Staff must still have high expectations for my unit and me. I mean, they were nice enough to spare me mental stress by giving me a heads-up, albeit only verbally, that I would be found not guilty.

  If it were me and my subordinate was being incompetent, I wouldn’t give a damn about their mental health—I’d advise them to resign. Wouldn’t anyone? Even in the army, where you can’t lay someone off, they’d have to be ready for some sort of disciplinary action.

  But apparently the higher-ups are letting me off the hook this time and giving me a second chance. To put it another way, I can’t expect them to be so lenient again.

  They’re even giving me an opportunity to show off my abilities in this war game. I definitely have to live up to the expectations of the General Staff and the brass this time.

  “Still, I wonder… Who’s the one making allowances for me?”

  If I’m getting off so easily, someone in the totem pole is pulling the strings. There are only a few people it could possibly be. Someone who has influence higher up but would also deign to do me a favor—it has to be someone in General von Zettour’s camp.

  “Hmm, I’ll have to thank him sometime soon,” Tanya murmurs, her mood improving slightly after considering her good fortune to have such a great superior in the army, where soldiers don’t have the luxury of choosing their bosses. I really can’t thank him enough.

  Then, with a single deep breath, I amble leisurely to the room next door. In the worst-case scenario, I thought the battalion might even be broken up, so I had summoned them all in case I needed to explain; they’re already waiting.

  Everyone’s exhibiting proper concern, and they seem ready to listen, which is endearing. I’ll tell them the good news. Tanya slowly begins to speak.

  “Battalion, I don’t believe in God. Not even a little bit.”

  If you do exist, grant me the power to feed Being X to pigs after cramming him through a shredder.

  Tanya doesn’t say that part aloud, but I think it.

  Nothing happens.

  I sigh inwardly. The troops lined up here are way more useful and a hell of a lot more loyal than some nonexistent god. A great commander of ancient times said that the hundred men you have are better than the ten thousand you don’t, and he was quite right.

  Of course, if I loosen the reins, they’ll go racing off to the battlefield, so that gives me a splitting headache, but… Anyhow, I have a chance to make up for the mistake. She takes the dais and decides to give her troops a few inspiring words so that she can restore her reputation.

  “Gentlemen, I believe in the General Staff. It’s a bastion of logic and wisdom. Dear God, if you’re so great, try being ethical. Then I’ll show you that the General Staff’s wisdom is greater than yours.”

  The Imperial Army General Staff exists for real; God or whoever only exists as an idea. In other words, he’s a fantasy.

  That’s ethics. If you want to oppose the rule of law, the generally accepted universal principles, then you have to show us something greater.

  To neglect them, unilaterally claim you exist, and declare your own laws is to ask us to fulfill a one-sided contract.

  On that point, the kindhearted General Staff shows mercy even when we err and gives us chances to redeem ourselves. But Tanya won’t forget her failure. Colonel von Lergen and the General Staff are considerate enough to be indirect about it, but it’s torturous. It’s our—in other words, my—failure.

  I want to impress these things on my disheartened troops, so I issue a declaration. These are the kinds of subtleties middle management has to instill in their subordinates.

  “People don’t expect anything from an entity with minimal presence. My brothers-in-arms, the General Staff—maybe even the Empire itself—has expectations of us. Our duty and dedication are our honor.”

  Of course, Tanya was convinced the higher-ups were disappointed in them. She could have done nothing if they had been deemed useless.

  If a person in manufacturing somehow made an inventory management error by going out on a business call? It wouldn’t matter how well he did in the meeting.

  He would have to endure castigation for his incompetence.

  “It is the will of the army to give us a chance. We’ve been granted an opportunity to atone for our mistake.”

  The General Staff Office even sent someone in person. It means we haven’t been forsaken. There’s still the danger of being sent to serve in some penal battalion,
but we’ll just have to overcome it by amassing achievements.

  “I don’t care if it’s purgatory—we’ll go there, and we’ll conquer it, because that’s what soldiers do.”

  We go anywhere we’re ordered. That fundamental principle goes without saying, but it’s important to constantly review the basics. Heinrich’s Law is a warning against letting minor errors pile up.

  Taking a heavier hand to prevent accidents is elementary.

  “So let’s do a mission right now. Let’s do it ourselves.”

  “Commander?”

  Vice Commander Weiss is interrupting me? Am I repeating myself too much? I feel rather hesitant, but something from my education at the military academy crosses my mind: Never waver in front of subordinates. But I’d rather regret doing something than aimlessly doing nothing.

  Having made up her mind, she just barely maintains her unconcerned expression and glances around. Well, the battalion personnel don’t seem to be so sick of my insistent confirmations. People who value the basics are the kind of talent I wish I could just put in my pocket.

  “Let’s show the Empire how great their watchdog is.”

  I make sure it registers. Basically, the army is an instrument of violence that serves as a watchdog. We need to show that we have no intention of bucking the state’s control. You never know whose eyes might be out there glinting as they watch.

  It’s good to appeal to their loyalty to a slightly underhanded degree. It’s a million times better to have them laughing at me than putting them on their guard and trapping myself. Besides, I can just give anyone who laughs a beating.

  “Let’s teach those rats that no matter where they run we’ll be on their tails.”

  Let’s think a step further. I’m acting like Tsuji right now. Would anyone with common sense like him? Fat chance. I have the feeling they probably hated him. Why? Because he would act without consulting anyone?

  …Of course. If a sensible person like me had a subordinate like Tsuji, they would stand him up before a firing squad. After all, he was the kind of guy who’d go making his own arbitrary decisions. How useless can you get?