Plus Ultra

by Carlo Zen

  …If it wasn’t a fluke, the Republicans are awfully capable interceptors.

  “But, Major—”

  “It’s fine; fall back. You’re just one person; we’ll be all right. Instead of slowing us down, round up the others who’ve been hit and RTB.”

  It’s great to be serious, but if those serious personnel leave, that’s a problem. With no other reliable people around, I’m the only one left. I’m the one sensible person among all these war crazies. Talk about a nightmare.

  It goes without saying that I’ll be exhausted both physically and mentally. People who can remain sensible during such an abnormality as war are exceedingly valuable. It’s hard to keep a unit who has lost someone like that under control.

  Sensible people—they generally keep their heads in a crisis. These modern individuals who can value reason and the market are the ones who will sustain the capitalist society to come. To squander them on this waste called war is truly horrible.

  What will the Empire’s economy be like after the war if it throws away its best and brightest like this? I don’t even want to think about it.

  Should I convert all my wages into gold and goods while I still can? I have a feeling that win or lose, the Empire’s future won’t be terribly bright.

  “Understood… I wish you luck.”

  “You think too much. You hesitated, right? You big idiot. When I get back, you’re gonna get it.”

  But first I have to survive this. It’s annoying and I’m not motivated, but I have to crush the pro-Republic fellows holed up in Arene.

  As a person, it’s not a very nice thing to do. Logically, it’s easier to eliminate them, but no one will compliment you for violating human rights. Yes, I’m philanthropic, and as such, I don’t want to get innocent people mixed up in this.

  Even though legally there are no problems, something surely gave good, conscientious Weiss pause. In other words, reluctance and hesitation hindered his maneuvers, and as a result, he got hit. Well, it’s not as if I don’t understand.

  But to say one thing, if I were in the same position as him, I would have wanted to shirk responsibility in the same way. So about that part, I’m jealous. Geez, you’re that averse to taking part in a massacre?

  Well, I don’t like it, she mocked herself, but circumstances call for the death of the partisans of Arene.

  I’m only taking part in a broad sense. I’m just doing nothing, like those three wise monkeys—see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

  In contemporary law, it’s omission. But I’m not the direct subject of the act. In other words, the issue is whether I have the duty to report it or not.

  Even Rudel bombed tons of Soviet tanks, ships, fighter planes, and armored trains, and he didn’t have to go to prison. Basically, all he did was sortie, and that in itself wasn’t a problem.

  Good. If I’m just doing my duty as a single soldier, there shouldn’t be any real issues.

  Ohh, laws are wonderful.

  “Ma’am. My apologies.”

  That said, as long as there are issues at all, I won’t be enthusiastic about it.

  Of course, I’m pretty sure there aren’t any military operations you can really shout yee-haw and serve in with gusto. I end up wondering why we have wars.

  Even today—why am I conducting this irrational operation?

  Tanya is really at wits’ end, but she doesn’t long for death enough to lose herself in thought in the middle of a battlefield. She switches gears to focus on dealing with the task at hand.

  “It’s fine. You can’t help being you. Okay, Lieutenant König, take over Lieutenant Weiss’s command.”

  “Roger.”

  I have no choice, so I reorganize command at my discretion. Either way, our mission is counter-mage combat with, at most, some containment.

  If there are healthy enemy mages out there, we have to beat on them to some extent.

  “All hands, prepare to swoop in for a close-quarters fight. Watch out for ambushes. These guys are capable. If you take them lightly, you’re liable to get burned.”

  “Commander. The enemy mages are withdrawing! They’re going to shut themselves up in the city!”

  But that plan was designed with the idea in mind that the enemies would sortie to intercept us.

  “Ngh. Never mind. Abort the charge. Just keep the pressure on.”

  Put another way, it’s our job to take on the mage ambushes on the periphery of the city, nothing beyond that.

  In other words, if they remove any mages from the attackable areas around the edges of the city, Tanya’s mission will be mostly accomplished.

  In short, if they drive the enemies to positions where they couldn’t reach the bombers or artillery, their part will be over.

  “Commander?”

  “All we have to do is drive them off. Once we’ve pushed them away, we’ll issue the warning to surrender.”

  “…Are you sure?”

  It’s precisely because they understand what that means that several members of the company express hesitation. Of course, these aren’t the types to hesitate to attack once we’ve transitioned to mopping up, but it isn’t as if they can’t foresee what’s about to happen.

  “It’s not our job. At least, our job is to counter the mages. It doesn’t include urban warfare.”

  But Tanya has already taken a practical attitude. Since she is focused on how to keep the dirt on her hands to a minimum, nothing is higher priority than getting out of there after issuing the call for surrender.

  This is an easy job. Even if someone ends up dying as a result, it won’t be by my hand.

  In that case…

  “…Understood.”

  Despite their hesitation, no one continues to object—for better or worse. In other words, no matter what they might have wanted to say, they’re all mature enough to swallow it.

  Business is basically stoicism. Entertaining, layoffs, or a boss you just can’t stand—there are so many things that must simply be endured. So if you can avoid them, there aren’t many reasons to waver. And if you’re a soldier, orders are a great excuse.

  “Contact the artillery and the bomber unit. Tell them we’re issuing the surrender warning.”

  All that’s left is to get them to take over. If the enemy surrenders, that’s great. If not, the bombardment will put an end to it. That’s all.

  Well, I know this isn’t the type of enemy to meekly surrender, so it’s practically a foregone conclusion, but still.

  In other words, we’ll have them become our justification.

  “Do you want protection?”

  “Second Company, you’re on direct support.”

  Still, the best is to issue a warning. If they’re logical, there’s a nonzero chance that they choose to surrender. If we issue a warning first, it’s also much easier emotionally, and most importantly, if there is a trial, it can be used as evidence in my defense.

  “Okay, let’s give them a call.”

  We don’t lose anything by warning them. In which case, it’d practically be a betrayal of capitalism not to do it.

  We pretty much know they’re going to reject our offer, but I might as well give it sincerely for my own reasons. It’s definitely worth it. Actually, I’d really appreciate it if they would surrender at this point. Time and ammunition are precious.

  Well, in reality, a ton of them surrendering would be the bigger burden on Logistics. And the brass doesn’t expect them to give themselves up, so they’re already assuming there will be a fight to wipe them out. I think we should hedge, but since cutting costs is also important, I can’t fault them for their conclusion.

  Sheesh. Well, there’s no reason for us in the thick of it to think that far.

  Guess I should get things rolling.

  “Release unaffiliated members of the general population immediately. We can’t allow your slaughter to continue. We demand the release of imperial citizens according to article 26, paragraph 3 of the Rules of War on Land.”
/>
  A nominal request to release civilians. That said, the only imperial citizens who would be in Arene, what used to be a Republican city, are soldiers or civilian army personnel.

  They were probably killed or lynched back when the revolt began. Even if there are survivors, I don’t imagine they’ll obediently let them go. There’s a greater chance they’ll off any survivors out of spite.

  I can’t believe they actually wanted this scenario. It’s like the monumental difference between talking about a nuclear apocalypse in a sci-fi novel and actually waging nuclear war.

  “You’re watching, right? See anything?”

  “…Yeah, they shot someone. Here’s the video.”

  And as expected, the militia shoots someone dead and shouts something obscene. Well, it’s the type of thing an undisciplined militia is likely to do in any era. That’s why a proper army and a militia are two different things. Freedom fighters are all well and good, but freedom without order ends up with major internal strife, a kind of environmental hazard. These guys are hopeless. They could have done this themselves, but instead they had to involve citizens engaged in wholesome economic activity.

  Yeah, so in that context, they’re probably shouting, “Go to hell, imperial bastards!” Something like that.

  Well, that’s how people who aren’t used to war tend to behave. They may believe in some noble principle, but as long as they aren’t trained, they’re slaves to emotion. So I suppose this is just what’s bound to happen when an undisciplined organization of civilians has guns.

  Just like a functioning member of society, a soldier, even in uniform, is useless without training, and you obviously can’t expect that much of a militia. In other words, this underscores the claim of economic theory that human capital is so important.

  “HQ, I’m sending video. Requesting permission to begin immediate rescue.”

  At the same time, this is a big chance. Nominally, we’ve fulfilled our duty of issuing a warning.

  All that’s left is to join the extermination, but if possible, I’d like to avoid that out of consideration for my future political position. It’s a simple reason, and anyone would exempt me from responsibility.

  This is the perfect chance. The marvelously just cause of protecting my fellow countrymen is right here in front of me.

  What army could reproach a soldier for saving its own civilians? At least, rescuing captured imperial subjects is a politically clean act. Perhaps it doesn’t have much meaning from a military point of view, but all that’s left now is the annihilation phase.

  So this is the phase during which your political conduct matters. The fact that I didn’t participate directly during the battle but was engaged in rescuing fellow countrymen should work as a get-out-of-jail-free card.

  At least, it should be a justification.

  “HQ, roger. Get it done.”

  “Pixie 01, roger. I’ll proceed immediately.”

  Okay, saving people. Let’s do a good deed. For myself. Whoever said, The good you do to others will always come back to you, had a way with words.

  To Grantz and Visha, it was a massacre painted as mopping up. No, Visha took it a little better, since she knew the ropes. She at least understood the danger of hesitating on the battlefield.

  For Grantz, it was purgatory or perhaps simply hell.

  “HQ to all participating units. Transition to cleanup. Get rid of the Republican Army.”

  Red flames added color to the black-and-gray world. Then a faint flashing was all he could see. His distracted consciousness registered a noise coming from somewhere, orders to the entire theater from HQ. The voice on the radio was so level he was shocked by how unreal it sounded.

  But the significance of it was orders. Yes, orders. The individual Grantz was in this place on orders.

  I came here, I pulled the trigger, I killed the enemy. No, what I killed was a person.

  And he could recognize the strange tingle in his nose that had begun some time ago. Even though he was used to the smell of the battlefield, a stench was irritating it. It was the smell of burning human flesh. A freshly charred corpse whose odor wasn’t masked by the reek of decay. The air, sticky with protein, stunk horribly.

  He was sure he was out of things to throw up, and yet he did everything in his power to keep any acid from spewing out his mouth. He was getting used to actual combat, perhaps. The fact that Second Lieutenant Grantz had the ability to try to understand the situation meant he actually had some presence of mind.

  The surrender warning and the attempt to separate the civilians from the militia had been only a short while ago. Technically, it was probably a procedure to allow them to consider the civilians militia. Anyhow, as soon as the civilians didn’t have to be defined as noncombatants, the Empire had begun a merciless attack on the city.

  Luckily, he was engaged in the Imperial Army’s prisoner rescue mission. It seemed strange to him that Major von Degurechaff cared for allies over the enemy, but that feeling was gone in an instant. She was probably just deciding according to priority.

  That is, soldiers are the shields of the nation’s people, so if the question is whether eliminating the enemy or performing a rescue is higher priority, it has to be the rescue.

  Apparently, it’s a question of value standards. To put it another way, she honestly doesn’t mind trading the life of an enemy for the life of a fellow countryman. Thanks to that, even if it was only during the short time before the bombardment started, they were able to rescue some of the people held captive in the city.

  “We’ve already crushed all hostile organized resistance. Now just take out the remaining holdouts!”

  The Republican civilians were full of fight, and in a conceptual sense, they certainly meant to do battle with the Empire. They had consciously stood up to protect the Republic, and the bodies and corpses of recovered army employees made their intent to do harm very clear.

  But that didn’t mean Grantz could enjoy the scene playing out before his eyes.

  Meanwhile, the unit’s superior officer, Tanya, is content to look on as the cleanup progresses fairly smoothly.

  They used high explosives to smash the roofs of stone buildings. Once the flammable items inside were visible, they dropped incendiary bombs inside. To prevent the fires from going out, they used more high explosives to shatter the buildings, creating gusts of wind to help the conflagration spread.

  Then more incendiary bombs. That repetition set all of Arene ablaze in a few short hours.

  The barricade the civilians erected meant nothing.

  Not only that, but the Republican mages probably even ended up getting roasted in the flames. Surely the city already looks more like hell than those Buddhist paintings that supposedly depict it.

  On that point, Tanya’s feelings are simple. God must be so upset about this—if he exists.

  Anyhow, Being X apparently isn’t nice enough to lend a hand in this sort of disaster. Well, what can you do? Humans are the only ones who can save humans. Forgetting that and clinging to religion must be our weakness.

  That said, Tanya believes that such a weakness has produced massive changes in the history of mankind. Which is why she’s keeping her hands clean and going to save the imprisoned military employees.

  She takes the action that the collective consciousness of those weak people would want her to and praises herself for being a realist who doesn’t neglect to create excuses for the future.

  Meanwhile, for Grantz, who didn’t have the wherewithal to guess at his superior’s inner thoughts, the only thing keeping him sane were his pristine, pure white hands. He could defend himself by saying that he had made it through without shooting any noncombatants. He was rescuing people, not massacring them.

  On this battlefield, that was only a type of fiction…but as long as he could maintain it, it provided consolation.

  Unfortunately, Battalion Commander Major von Degurechaff’s surrender warning and the militia who rejected it sent his ficti
on crumbling to bits in no time.

  Their battalion was the vanguard in this fight, and if it hadn’t been for their good cause, the rescue of imperial subjects, they would have been in there participating in the killing. Now, he and his unit, the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, had to perform their original mission.

  “Pixie 01, roger. Requesting target.”

  Having swiftly and soundly recovered the imperial prisoners, the battalion had regrouped and was waiting for its next orders. What everyone knew without hearing it was that it would be the mission they were meant to do, an attack. Everyone mentioned it in ambiguous terms, but unbelievably, Major von Degurechaff apparently intended to participate in the horrible thing happening in Arene…firsthand.

  Whether the people of Arene even had the means to stay alive, much less fight, was doubtful. But neither the Imperial Army Command, Battalion Command, nor the individual commanders could be satisfied yet. As long as those people existed in front of them, they would devote their all to the task and accept no alternatives.

  They knew no other way to resolve the situation. Everyone was reluctant to say it, but if asked officially, they had to acknowledge that there were orders for a pursuit battle. And their commander was trading messages with HQ in her usual tone of voice, telling them they had regrouped, and pressing them for the unit’s next orders.

  “HQ to Pixie Battalion, the remaining enemy mages are acting as a rear guard as they retreat. Can you eliminate them?”

  “I see them… No problem. We can do it.”

  As part of his training, he was assigned to the headquarters company. The notion that the commander thought he had potential made him happy, but that naïveté had been an awful mistake… It meant he had to hear the worst news. To think he was meant to learn her style of command!

  Following Major von Degurechaff’s gaze, he could indeed see a somewhat orderly group of people. They were at a visible distance—there was no mistaking them. And it was true that bringing up the rear were a bunch of fellows who looked like the Republican Army mages, albeit covered in wounds.