Chapter 26 - K-brot
It was simplicity itself to find the return address of the letter but instead of leading to a business building (which would be well suited for a lawyer) or to a house or hotel (assuming he had sent it from his current residence) they found themselves in front of a shop in the commercial sector of town.
"Visha, this is a bakery, is it not?"
"Yes, Colonel, it is."
"You should call me Tanya. I'll be a civilian soon."
"Not yet, though and in public, it's best to keep up proper appearances!" she said primly.
"As you wish. Well, let's go in. Maybe he just got the address wrong and he's living near here." She looked up at the multi-story building. "I think those could be apartments above?"
They entered to the tinkling of the bell on the door and were hit with the smell of baking wheat and yeast. A woman's voice called from a back room, "Apologies but we are not open for business yet!" The owner of the voice bustled from the kitchen. It was a rather matronly woman but she had red-tinted cheeks from the heat of the ovens and flour on her apron. "We'll be ready for business in just two days, so please come back then!"
Tanya cleared her throat. "I'm not here for baked goods though, if they taste as good as they smell, I'll certainly be back then. No, I'm looking for Herr Gladieau. I understand this is his address."
"Oh, you want to talk to Henri, I'll go..." She suddenly stopped and blinked. "You-you-you are Tanya! I didn't recognize you at first! Oh, oh my!" She clapped her floured hands to her cheeks in a way that would seem overly dramatic if it weren't so obviously natural. "Henri! Henri! Come down quickly!" She turned back. "I read your book! You poor, brave thing! To suffer so from such a young age! But look at you now, it is like a miracle!" She dabbed away tears forming in her eyes with the edge of her apron, getting even more flour on her face.
What the hell did they put in that book?! I have to read it as soon as possible! She glanced as Visha who looked away uncomfortably, not willing to meet her eyes.
"Yes, well, ummm, thank you. May I know your name, ma'am?"
"Oh, just call me Helga, everyone does." She turned and yelled again, "Henri!"
"Coming, coming," an affable voice (with a terrible accent) came down from the stairs to one side. "What problem ist zat..." When he came into sight, Tanya saw that Gladieau was no longer wearing tailored suits and instead was sporting workman's clothes and his own apron. "Oh, Colonel!" he called out gratefully switching to Francois. "What brings you here?"
"We just wanted to confirm some details about the copyrights on the books and make sure you get paid. But it seems like you are not doing as much legal work as before."
"Ha ha, yes! I took your advice and opened a bakery! Well, technically not opened but became a partner of Helga here. She was going to get out of the business because sales were so bad but I convinced her that she just needed some more capital and an updated menu." He leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, "One of the previous main items was... K-brot" He suppressed a shudder.
She clapped him on the shoulder. "You are doing a great thing, Gladieau. But, I must ask, what do you know of baking?"
"Ah, well, my mother was a cook and I would help her as a child. In fact, that was how she paid my way through law school. We are revamping the menu and the only thing we have to do is find something to do with all the K-brot. It doesn't go BAD... technically. But we have many unsold barrels of the stuff on hand."
"Just give it away. Remember that an act of charity, properly publicized, can reap great rewards."
He slapped his head! "Mon dieu! How could I forget! In fact, there is an orphanage I was going to help with the proceeds from the Germanian Picture Album. What an excellent idea!"
"As much as I don't wish to subject orphans to K-brot, they would probably appreciate the donation. If anyone can stretch a meal and make it semi-edible, it's those nuns." While Tanya hated Being X intensely, she had nothing against the women who had 'raised' her. They were conscientious to a fault despite their bad habit of praying three times a day. Huh. I was about to say 'my fellow orphans' but that's not true anymore. An entirely unexpected wave of emotion hit her almost robbing her of breath. Even if it's just a legal fiction, I have a family now. How about that?
"Well, it seems you have your hands full but are you able to handle more copyright issues and other minor things? If not, I can always retain another lawyer."
"Perish the thought! I'd be honored to handle those issues. Truth be told, I'm not as facile in the kitchen as Helga here so my contributions do not take up nearly all my time. Honestly, I found the copyright work to be much more soothing than public defense if not nearly as lucrative. Do you need more help now?"
"I have a few patents I need filed."
"Ah, I see. More... feminine... items?"
"No! I mean, no. A practical ballpoint pen." She pulled the first prototype out of her pocket and showed it to him.
"Hmmm, may I try it?"
"Of course, it's fully functional."
He wrote on a scrap of paper with it. "How novel! The ink flows so smoothly and it appears to dry almost instantly. Just the time saved on that will make this an instant success. This definitely needs to be patented post haste!" He, somewhat reluctantly, returned it to her.
"Don't worry, there are more prototypes being prepared even now. I'll make sure to send you several so you can submit them with the patents."
His face beamed. "Many thanks! I won't say this will make you a mint, but it will certainly bring in some money internationally as well as locally." He pondered this for a moment. "You might consider forming partnerships with various pen manufacturers while keeping control of the patents, of course. Let them handle the marketing and production at least for their own markets."
Once again, she found herself surprised that he had such a good suggestion. "I see that you were wasted where you were. How did the dummkopf I knew become so sharp?"
He smiled wryly, "I can't answer that myself. It's just that since I've known you, I find my thinking has cleared up. Your habit of sweeping aside trivialities and striking the crux of the matter. I've taken that to heart."
"So how much do you want to charge for your services? I'm sure I have sufficient funds for any reasonable amount."
He pursed his lips and said thoughtfully. "I hadn't actually thought about that. Truly, I lack the temperment of a hardnosed lawyer!"
"I'll make you a deal. While I have sufficient funds to pay you appropriately, I'll be doing some investing soon. Why don't I offer you a fraction of the licensing fees? That way I preserve my capital and you might eventually reap far more than you would have otherwise. Of course, you'll bear some risk."
He raised his eyebrows. "That might be quite a generous sum! While I'm no expert, I think this invention will net you quite a bit in the end."
"I'd rather preserve my funds right now. Besides, people work most passionately when it's for their own gain, do they not?"
"Ha ha ha! How true, Colonel, how true!" She quoted him a percentage for his services and he accepted immediately.
"I have no problems with licensing, but inside Germania, we'll be making our own pens. I want to put some of my unemployed countrymen to work." With the labor market, I can get them cheaply right now. If any show real skill, I can raise their wages in the future. Nuturing human resources is a long-term endeavor!
Gladieau looked at her with admiration. Even now, she's thinking of lifting up others rather than just enriching herself. What a wonderful girl this is!
"So the initial production will be from this country and you'll spread out from there?"
"I want the Empire's to be considered the ultimate in quality so we'll get our factories converted as quickly as possible and our people trained up. The 'local' brands elsewhere will have to be a good quality, or we'll pull their license, but when people want the BEST, they'll come to us. We have lots of skilled labor, a huge unemployment rate, and limited resources. Low volume, high quality is the way to go."
He nodded. "I think that will work. People like luxury items and because they will have the 'non luxury' local product to compare against, yours will naturally seem even better." He flipped through the papers and then paused. "You are also patenting the ink?"
"Naturally! We spent a lot of effort getting just the right mix that will work in just our pens. Eventually, we'll earn more from the ink than pens. Also, make sure to put Visha down for 20% on the ink profits. She was the one who did all the legwork." If my experience with 21st century printers is any indicator, it'll be a LOT more. And this will keep all my human resources properly motivated! Those internet startups got some things right, don't give people money up front and don't worry if 90% of your ideas flop. If even one or two pan out, I'll be able to live comfortably on a sunny beach somewhere even if the rest of the world goes to hell.
Hearing her name in the rapid flow of Francois caused the Captain to interrupt her conversation with Helga. "Commander? Do you need me?"
"Not yet but we'll be done soon here." She turned back to Gladieau. "So, do we need anything else?"
"This should be fine. Oh, mon dieu! There is one thing." He hurried upstairs and came down with a thick envelope. "This came from your physician friend on that 'other' patent. She had numerous questions that I, -ahem-, couldn't answer."
"I'll look at this later and be back to you." She was sure she was blushing and had no idea what to do about it so she just ignored it. "Come along, Visha, we have things to do!"
* * *
...at the the same time on the other side of the bakery.
Helga asked, "Those things in the book, are they all true?"
Visha nodded. "The author took certain – liberties – but they are essentially correct." When have I ever been called the commander's Shadow Gold?! Honestly, though, she had never protested it because she rather liked the sound of it.
"And she's never owned a dress? Surely this cannot be!"
"As far as I know, before she went to the Republic, the only dresses she ever wore were for publicity shoots. And she gave those back afterwards. To this day, I've never seen her wear makeup even though she did have a dress on when she came back."
Helga, ever emotional, dabbed back more tears. "That poor dear!"
"We are going to buy some today as she can't wear uniforms for much longer other than official functions like parades and whatnot."
"Oh, why is that?"
"She's being forced out of the military by the Political Office!"
Helga gasped! "B-but how will she survive?! She is but a child that has known nothing but the military her whole life!"
"Do not worry, Frau Helga. I will take care of her!" She tapped her chest with a balled fist firmly.
"Oh, such a loyal comrade!" She pondered. "I think I have some of my older dresses, maybe she can use some of those..."
Visha looked at the woman who was taller and – bigger – than Tanya in every way possible. "Fear not, we won't have any problems. Her fans in the Republic gifted her many dresses so we just need business and casual clothing."
"How about ribbons and rings and girly things? Surely she has something as basic as that?"
"I'm pretty sure I would have noticed if she did. I don't think medals or computation orbs count."
"A-and what happened in Arene? Was that true?"
Visha sighed. "This, the book got mostly right. The truth is we were commanded to do what we did. If they had evacuated or not shot our soldiers, we wouldn't have attacked the city. But they did, so we followed orders or faced military justice ourselves." She didn't point out that the fictional Tanya had protested the orders repeatedly while the real one simply carried them out.
The baker looked almost as scandalized as when she heard about Tanya's lack of feminine clothing. "I canNOT believe they would make a little girl give such orders! And then they ship her off to Francois without a by your leave as if it were her fault!"
She put her hand on the other woman's arm. "It all worked out, didn't it? She's back now and safe. The war is over and she will be a woman of business."
"Ah, that's good, that's good." She lowered her voice, "If she is thinking of boys now, I have a nephew who is her age and loves her music. He's a good lad... don't forget to tell her, yes?"
"O-of course." I will never let this conversation cross my lips!
Chapter 27 - Paperwork
Chapter Text
Tanya's final day in the military was rapidly arriving and she was trying to decide how best to leave. After the fiasco of her acquittal (from the Political Office's point of view), she was sure that they would rather she quietly fade away. That being the case, what can I squeeze out of them before I go?
Normally, she wouldn't even consider such a thing. Two weeks notice with no bridges burnt... that was how a rational person acted. In this case, however, there was zero goodwill between her and the Political Office and she was in fine standing with the military. This was a good opportunity to use them for whatever advantage she could! Money is out... the government is basically broke. So how can I use them... ah, that's it! Now to prepare for the most appropriate exit.
"Captain, do you have a second?"
Visha poked her head from behind a pile of boxes. Fortunately, she had been able to commandeer a squad of underlings to handle the grunt work while she just handled logistics. Still, the task was daunting as paperwork had piled up even during the times when they were on every front of the war! "Of course, ma'am!"
"Check to see if news outlets are still subject to wartime censorship and get me the names of some journalists who might be hungry for an interesting story."
"Actually, I know a few people and the rules came off of the papers when you were in the Republic."
Tanya blinked. "You never cease to amaze me, Serebryakov! I'll miss having you as my adjutant after I leave."
Visha paused and then stood at attention. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am!"
"Eh? Granted, of course."
"Thank you, ma'am." Her eyes were serene but with an unwavering will that surprised her commander. "I have no intention of remaining in the military if you aren't here."
She responded slowly. "There are hard times coming ahead. In the military, at least in peacetime, you'll never miss a meal and you'll always have a roof over your head. The pay won't be worth the paper it's printed on but you'll get by."
"We fought to save the country and we did it. We fought to stay alive and we did that too. We fought to protect our comrades and were mostly successful. Isn't it time to stop fighting and start living again?"
"What will you do, then? This is the only career you've ever had and you'll be throwing that away?"
"If I could, I'd like to stay with you, commander. You may be down, but you're never out and there are other... personal... reasons."
"May I ask?"
She drew in a deep breath. "I don't want to see one of my dearest friends all alone in the world." A twinkle entered her eye. "Besides, wouldn't it bad if I made my daughter had to fend for herself?"
Tanya reddened, "That, that..." Then she started laughing at the absurdity of it all! "I can't fault your argument, 'mother'. I assume you've handled your own paperwork?"
"Yes, ma'am. The day we found out you were being ousted."
"How about the rest of the kampfgruppe?"
"I convinced them to stay until you told them when it would be best to retire. It will be a lot harder for them to quit on a specific schedule, especially any mages, but with budget cuts and force drawdowns, a few at least might manage it."
"Good. It'll be better for them to stay where they are. One day, they will be the core of the new army and it's better to use a good seed than having to start from scratch."
"New army?"
Tanya sniffed. "The old army was a horrible use of precious resources! The fact that there was a war at all was an insane waste... millions of lives lost, the riches of a continent drained in just a few years! If one must have an army, and any sane country must have one, it's better to be smaller, more efficient, better trained, higher quality, better equipped."
"Something like... something like the 203rd."
"Exactly! Imagine if we had only a tenth the troops but they were all up to THAT standard. How long would the war have lasted? Months? Weeks? Mere days? People not suited for war should passionately serve their country as cooks, or farmers, or bricklayers... not soldiers. Not as just another body in a muddy field somewhere."
Even now, she's trying so save lives in the future... and those idiots are chasing her out of the military! Her patriotism is so inspiring even when she should be the most cynical. Visha's loyalty to Tanya, already high, spiked yet again.
Tanya thought, The main key to human resourcing is to put the right people in the right job with the right tools. I'm glad to be rid of these foolish orders and go where more rational economic choices rule. I'm finally going to be free of this combat nonsense!
"At any rate, back to my question. Can we get some reporters together soon? I want to give them a bombshell of a story as soon."
"I'm not certain that they'll be 100% sympathetic to whatever you have to say. But I've met quite a few and they are all interested in news now that the censors don't write all the articles." She didn't mention that she knew all those reporters because she was trying to get the press to write about Degurechaff's plight in the Republic. Both she and the newsmen were equally unhappy with the Political Office and their heavyhanded control of the news, though.
"You never cease to amaze! I bet if I asked you to come up with a dozen computation orbs, you'd manage somehow."
"That's ridiculous, commander." She paused in thought for a few seconds. "The most I could get are seven... and nothing as good as the Type-97 models."
"I'll... keep that in mind. At any rate, don't talk to your reporter friends yet. I need to clear something here first. Keep at the paperwork, I'll return soon!"
She stepped smartly down the halls of Central Command, happy that she didn't have to rely on a 'lift' from enchanted shoes anymore. Still, she had gotten amazingly attached to the extra mobility. Nothing she needed constantly but as the shortest officer in the Reich, it made getting things off of tall shelves considerably easier.
Rerugen's office door was open this time and, if possible, it looked as if the paperwork was about to win against the harried man. "General Rerugen? May I have a moment?" She saluted per protocol but could barely see the top of the man's head over the paperwork.
"Certainly Colonel. I could use a break from these damnable reports." He didn't mention that a fairly large stacks was solely about her or her battalion.
She looked over the paper mountains and shook her head. "I wish I could stay and help you with these. I'm pretty handy with paperwork but never got the chance to exercise those skills during the war."
Rerugen's heart leapt when he heard this. If she could get rid of all this, I'd gladly join hands with the Devil! But he brought himself back to reality almost immediately. There was no way she could continue as an officer and she would never deign to function as a clerk. "If there was any way..."
"No need to apologize, General. What's done is done. I was hoping, though, you could do me a small favor."
Rerugen steeled himself. "Oh, what would that be?"
"I'd like you to request a parade for the veterans of the war. I believe those requests go through the Political Office now, do they not?"
"Eh? Well, they do but such a thing is unlikely to be granted. Budgetary constraints aside, they want to forget the war ever happened. Especially if, pardon my bluntness, your name is associated with it in any way."
"Naturally." she agreed dryly.
"But that brings up a point... why me? If Zettour or Rudersdorf pushed for this, they could probably make it happen. In fact, they'd be tickled to do something for you and the other veterans."
"Oh, you misunderstand. I WANT them to deny it. That's why you should feature my name prominently in the proposal."
Rerugen, not a stupid man, ran the scenarios through his head. "I see. I assume that you are making other preparations based on the denial?"
"Of course! I'm ashamed that I have to further burden you when you are already so busy."
"No, Colonel. I'm more than happy to help out. Let me draft the proposal now and get it to the right people. I suspect the response will be swift so you might as well wait here."
"Certainly. Would you object if I rolled up my sleeves and assisted you until then? At least to the point where you can see the door from your desk?"
"Please!" He quickly typed out the request, with some suggestions from Tanya, and had his adjutant take it to the Political Office. He gave the man instructions to wait for the response.
While leaving the high-level decisions to him, she dived into the waiting reports and missives. After an hour, he looked up from his work and was shocked by how much progress she had made. A cursory inspection showed that her work was excellent and she had a deep understanding of how to deal with the multitude of demands coming through the office.
When they took a break for coffee, Tanya pointed out the stacks she had newly formed. "These are just situational reports. I've skimmed them but you only really need to read the topmost ones and file the rest. That stack requires your signature to approve. That other stack requires your signature to deny. These three here are nonsense requests for information. I left a note on each to reroute them to a different department or deny them. And this stack," she patted the smallest of them all, "actually requires you to think and make policy decisions. I put a suggestion on each but you should probably look them over anyway."
If I had her for even another week, or even just a few days, I'd be able to get my office back. Would I be able to trust her work? Probably, yes. For all her bloodthirsty ways, she's a loyal officer, honest and abides by all regulations... that she can't twist to suit her!
"Many thanks, Colonel. Ah, I see my adjutant has returned." They looked over the paper he delivered together. It was stamped, "Denied With Prejudice" in a rather lurid red ink and signed by the chief of the Political Office. "Denied" would simply mean that, for whatever reason, the request was not accepted. "With Prejudice", however, meant that the request could never be resubmitted.
Rerugen saw her almost manic grin and asked rhetorically, "I assume you're pleased?"
"It's even better than I hoped for! I should check to see if it's my birthday today!"
"I realize you are very busy now, but is there any way I could get your assistance with the rest of these damnable piles? I don't want to order you because that would be truly unbefitting. But, as you can clearly see, I could use some help now. I'd be willing to help your transition if possible in return."
"Hmmm. Actually there is one thing you might help with. It's nothing major but it will save me a lot of time." She explained what she needed and he nodded his head carefully.
That's actually pretty reasonable. And if it helps a few veterans out without causing problems, there's no reason not to do it. Why do I get the feeling I'm missing something though? Lured by the thought of a clear office, he reluctantly made a deal with the Degurechaff.
Chapter 28 – Papers, Please
Having the Denial paperwork in hand, she told Visha to set up the interviews while she helped Rerugen with his 'paper mountains'. She found the work rather pleasant and the tedium was alleviated by watching the work vanish as it was completed. I should have been doing this back office work the entire war! Tanya was soon in 'the zone' and processing paperwork at peak speeds.
On the other side of the desk, Rerugen discovered the foundations of his universe turning upside down. Working with Degurechaff was pleasant. She was incredibly efficient and, after she understood his thought processes and how he managed, she became even more productive. Soon, he was only giving her the vaguest of instructions (if any) and she carried out the tasks as well as he would have done. He remembed something Rommel had said, "I don't tell her HOW to do something, I just tell her WHAT I need done. And it gets done!"
His incipent ulcer hadn't acted up at all and his sleep was no longer haunted with unfinished duties lurking in his office. She was even handling his calls and visitors to keep time-wasters from bothering him while he was working! His own adjutant was too easily bullied by high ranking callers but Degurechaff was polite, but firm, to anyone that didn't rank at least General. One overly-persistent major got a withering diatribe from her that sent him almost running from the room.
At other times, he could hear her humming or even singing softly and he found that he was enchanted with her voice. Had it always been this melodious? Surely not! His memories of her harsh voice when barking orders or dressing down some foolish cadet were fading and only the present Tanya remained. Several times, he had to force himself back to work rather than continue to listen to her.
Still, the work was getting done fast enough he thought it would be better to measure their progress in pounds of paperwork rather than number of tasks. Near the end of the second day, with completion in sight, Rerugen said, "I do believe, I'll survive this thanks to your timely help, Colonel."
She laughed lightly. "It's nothing you couldn't have done, General, if you just had time to do it. It's similar to a medical triage, honestly. Once you know that, it's much easier to handle."
"A triage?" While quite intelligent, he was momentarily confused by the use of the unexpected medical term.
"Certainly. Some tasks are crucial, so we deal with them first. Others can sit in the 'waiting room' and can be handled later. Others are pretty much dead issues so the only thing to do is bury them or put them out of their misery." She fished one message from a stack. "This one on modifying the standard uniform? Garbage. We are drawing down our forces... if anything, we'll have an outrageous surplus of uniforms! Even if all their suggestions are fine any other time, the Empire doesn't have the gold for frivolities like fashion." She put it in the DENIED stack after putting a 'budget' notice on it. "Once you have it sorted, you hit the crucial ones and then the rest can wait until you have time. Most of them, you'll only have to touch twice at most, or only once if you have an assistant capable of making proper decisions."
Rerugen immediately saw the benefits of such an arrangement, both for paperwork and for the medical field. "It seems like a flexible strategy. Do you use it often?"
She laughed! "Not as often as I'd like. No, in battle you don't have the luxury of choosing your assignments, and rarely your men. You just have to make do with they send you and weed out the useless if you can't train them up. There's an... Akitsushitan warrior that said about soldiers: 'Straight un-knotted timber of good appearance is used for the revealed pillars, straight timber with small defects is used for the inner pillars. Timbers of the finest appearance, even if a little weak, is used for the thresholds, lintels, doors, and sliding doors, and so on. Good strong timber, though it be gnarled and knotted, can always be used discreetly in construction. Timber which is weak or knotted throughout should be used as scaffolding, and later for firewood.'"
The general's eyes widened. She really does think of people as materials! And, God help me, I can totally understand what she's getting at. I wonder how much 'scaffolding' or 'firewood' she's dealt with over the war. He almost missed what she said next.
"That's why I think we, or should I say you, need to tighten up recruitment and strive for only the best. A willingness to serve does not equal ability."
"As you say, it's up to us now. Do you envision yourself back in the military once you can legally rejoin?"
"Six years is a huge chunk of time cut out of a career. I can't just sit on my hands for over half a decade." Crap. I need to leave msyelf with a way back because I can't seem unpatriotic. You never know what's going to happen! "But if my country needs me, I'll be available, of course! Hopefully, I won't be too rusty then."
She's about to exit neatly but she's already thinking about what she'll do if she's back in service! I need to discourage this if at all possible! "Don't take this the wrong way, Colonel, but let's hope that the country never again needs soldiers so badly that we are conscripting our retirees."
It's so good to have someone that understands that I never wanted to be part of this war machine! It's too bad he's stuck in a military career and we won't see much of each other after this. "Naturally. I'm sure everyone will have forgotten about me in a few years."
No, Degurechaff, I will never EVER forget about you.
* * *
Done with her promise to Rerugen, her next stop was to visit Colonel Ugar. Having literally written the book on modern logistics, his department would have welcomed her with open arms had she been able to stay in the military. Though it wasn't to be, she was tickled that the contact she had carefully groomed for years was still mutually beneficial. Indeed, other than her immediate subordinates, their relationship was the closest she had to any other officer.
He was, as usual, quite busy but without the frenzied, white-knuckled intensity of the war era. Critical needs were downgraded to merely necessary and life-saving to just convenient. "Ah, Colonel Degurechaff! Come in! How can I help you today? Surely there are no desperate needs you have for the next few days?" He truly felt grateful for the advice she had given him in War College when he left the command track for logistics. Though less flashy, he knew his service was just as necessary as those on the front lines. He often felt that she was beside him, encouraging him, even as their supply chains were stretched the breaking point and beyond. He and his staff had moved mountains, one train carriage at a time but how could they do less than those risking their lives for the Fatherland?
And now? He had survived the war and could go home to his lovely wife and daughter. And Degurechaff herself had managed to make it through somehow.
"Ha ha! No, no this time. It's actually a last bit of business or, perhaps, the first of a new business? You are looking at the proud holder of the military surplus contract for the post war period."
"Ah! They finally moved on that, did they? About time as I have better use for the warehouse space."
In her monograph, she had argued that endlessly stockpiling decrepit inventory was a waste of time, money and manpower. Anything that there wasn't a mission-critical need to have in storage (such as ammunition) should be ruthlessly culled even if a paper loss was taken. Colonel Ugar believed this as well but during the war their main concern was immediate needs and not long-term efficiency.
"I had General Rerugen twist some arms but Zettour backed him up. What finally clinched it, I think, was that the company's charter stated that we would primarily hire military veterans... myself included!"
"This might be self-serving, but how soon can you can start taking shipments? There's a lot of, well, everything." He chuckled. "With your help, we might finally put your concept paper to its fullest completion yet."
"It might be a few more months, I'm afraid. But there are some things I can take off your hands right now."
"Oh? Now I'm intrigued."
"How are you stocked for NON military grade computation orbs? I know there was an unsuccesful run before the type-97 was approved plus scrapped older ones."
"Hmmm, I think we have a few of those but I'll need to send a query out to the various depots to see what they have in stock. We're finally getting our warehouses inventoried but when done, we'll really need your services." He seemed in a good mood about it. "To think that a sign of success in the Railway Department would be fewer items rather than more! If you don't mind my asking, what do you need with those failed orbs for?"
"There are a lot of mages out of work and I don't need them to blow anything up... just getting jobs with their skills is enough."
"While sub-military grade, they are still dangerous in the wrong hands."
"So is an automobile, and they are a lot more common and cheaper to boot. Besides, I'm going to disable the weapon settings. I don't have the team to replace them with anything more useful but just the rest should be acceptable." She thought for a bit. "Even the recording functions can have a wide variety of uses. What if reporters could return with sound and images? And if they could fly? Can you imagine it?" Huh. I guess I'm making drone journalism a century early. Might have to work around the 'no fly' rules over Berun. Still, not every mage can fly anyway and hovering is better for getting good shots.
"I hadn't ever thought of it. Orb are weapons to most people. Given their expense, I can see why that's the common perception. Even I was lulled into that mindset."
"That's one of the best things, as well. Commercial orbs will be a fraction the cost of military ones. Reject orbs are a reasonable substitute for now, and dirt cheap, but eventually ones specialized for the civilian market will dwarf the amount combat mages could ever use." There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of out of work mages... what a bonanza!
Ugar nodded thoughtfully. Even now, she's thinking of the destitute soldiers. Mages and non-mages alike. Well, I supported her during the war, this isn't that much different. "I'll be happy to do anything to help, Colonel."
"Many thanks. And get used to calling me 'Tanya' pretty soon. I would've like to make General before I was 21 but that possibility has been closed off."
"Still, the youngest Colonel in the Empire, possibly the world. Surely a worthy accomplishment!"
"Ah, if only that put food on the table! Right now, I'll settle for being the youngest millionaire in Berun, ha ha ha!"
He laughed with her before she set off on her next errand.
* * *
Inside the Political Office the mood was swinging between despair and blind panic. "What do you mean we have no hard currency!"
"It's true, chief. Hundreds of soldiers withdrew the entirety of their balances yesterday! Most of them had substantial amounts of back pay built up during the war. The total was staggering!" The harried clerk was scanning the account books with bloodshot eyes. "The withdrawls are legitimate but the problem is they all demanded payment in coin or foreign currencies, mostly dollars or pounds."
"There was no where near enough reserves on hand to cover these amounts. Pull from the Berun banks immediately!"
He gulped. "Th-that's not possible. The soldiers who couldn't get their pay here got bank drafts... which were honored."
"But why?! Why would they honor them?!"
"Because the drafts came from our exchequer. By law, they had to honor them in hard currencies because we would need to that money soon."
For months, the Political Office had caused most of the Fatherland's gold and silver supply to become concentrated in Berun so they could make the scheduled reparation payments. Naturally, the allied powers weren't accepting marks as payment. Unfortunately, while they would take commodities like coal, it took time to gather and ship many tons of to their destination. To make things worse, the only country willing to take very large quantities, the Russy Federation, suddenly became very hard-nosed and insisted that reparations, either coal of cash, be delivered precisely on schedule.
And that was simply impossible!
They couldn't ship fast enough and they couldn't make up the difference in allowable precious metals.
"Who authorized this?! I want him here immediately!"
A quick investigation determined that Herr Sommer was responsible, had applied for twelve weeks of accrued vacation and couldn't be found anywhere. He was cursed repeatedly in the halls where he had worked as countless accountants and politicos struggled to meet outrageous demands. Before long, his name became synonymous with doom and disaster. Ironically, years later, he would be spoken of very differently but for now, he was everyone's favorite expletive.
With Sommer being the current scapegoat, it somehow escaped them that Tanya was the source of their problems.
* * *
Having spent a busy couple of days with Rerugen, Tanya stopped in to see how Visha had handled her tasks. While she could have checked in regularly, she was confident her adjutant was equal to any challenge she might be assigned. She recalled pleasantly that the relationship would continue even in civilian life. Truly the man I used to be was foolish not realize how much human capital could be improved. You may have to dig up a lot of potatoes, but eventually you'll strike gold.
"Ah, Colonel!" Visha called out cheefully. "Are you finished with General Rerugen's assignment?"
"Indeed. And as tedious as it was, it certainly beats the trenches. I'll take comfortable boredom over excitement any day."
Even now, the bravest person I know, and always the first in combat, manages to joke. How could anyone think she was anything less than a hero! "I've arranged for your interviews. For simplicity, I thought it best to hold them all at once as your message won't change between them."
"Excellent work! Yes, I won't try to massage their egos independently. Frankly, I think I'd rather go back to the Rhine than deal with that foolishness. What interest from investors? Anyone nibbling the bait?"
"Not nibbles, but..."
"Really? I'm surprised that wasn't some interest."
"I mean that almost to a person, everyone went all in. There's a rather staggering amount of precious metal and foreign currencies being guarded by the 203rd right now. I've never seen so much money in one place!" She showed Tanya an untitled sheet with the tally at the bottom. "Every day, more money comes in. Even some from foreign investors."
"That's most surprising."
"I think Gladieau was in contact with your friends in the Republic and happened to mention it. He's been handling all those details and keeping the books straight."
"We'll need to formalize this soon, but for now we need to move fast and worry about the details later. Just make sure you keep track of the amount so that everyone gets what they are owed. Hopefully magnified many times."
"I'm sure it will be, ma'am." She glanced at the clock, "Less than 36 hours left. Is there anything else we need to do before the end?"
"Surprisingly, no. Let's set the stage for the final act tomorrow. I'll be very interested on how they enjoy the show!"
Chapter 29 – Black and White
Visha had set up the group interview in a modest, but pleasant hotel suite. This allowed them to speak freely without using government resources. The reporters shuffled around the room, some nervously, others with anticipation. After all, this was the first interview White Silver had given after returning from the Republic and one of the few she had given ever. Who would want to miss that? As such, the various periodicals had sent some of their most senior people and finest war correspondents.
Half of them were regretting it as they had arrived early to get a good spot and were informed of the 'no smoking' rule. Having gotten good seats, they were unwilling to give them up and simply fidgeted while they waited. All eyes turned toward the grandfather clock in the room as it began to strike the hour. Just then, Visha came out with a stack of papers that she put on a small table. Behind it was a covered easel of some sort that had drawn the attention of the reporters but they hadn't been bold enough to investigate it. "Thank you for coming today. The format will be informal, but please allow the Colonel to choose the order of the questioners to avoid needless confusion. I assure you, all relevant questions will be answered but they are limited to the approved topic for today and any related issues." Despite her gender and age, few doubted this was a blooded officer used to having her commands obeyed.
One of the exceptions spoke up. "That's hardly reasonable! Surely the trial and her time in the Republic are up for discussion!"
Visha smiled using an imitation of one she saw on the Colonel and a shudder went through the room. "You are free to discuss that, of course, but not here." She nodded slightly, but obviously, toward the exit.
Nobody left.
Five minutes after the hour, Tanya entered. Instead of her uniform, which everyone had expected, she was clothed in a simple dress. Clean and neat, but not overly stylish, she resembled an upscale professional... or rather a minor dressing as one. She had no desire to wear the dozens of stylish dresses in her wardrobe and would much rather be in uniform, but it didn't match the image she wanted to present. Dressing in trousers was equally impossible as it would be too distracting and muddy the waters.
I look like a kid playing dress-up! Once I'm established, I'm going to have clothes designed that I can tolerate!
What the reporters saw was a serious young girl, not much different from any they could find at any secondary school in the country. This was the fiercest warrior of their generation? The famous, or rather infamous, White Silver that wreaked havoc over most of Europa?
"I'm sure you gentlemen have a lot of questions but I'll preface this by answering the main one: yes, I've been forced out of the Empire's military by the Political Office."
The quickest reporter spoke up. "That's a most serious charge. Do you have evidence to back this up?"
"This isn't a court of law, nor is that a charge, it's simply a fact. The surrender agreement was set before I left and the only body that could change it was the Political Office. Only they had the authority, and they did it while I was on trial in the Republic. All of this is a matter of public record."
"Why did they do it?" a younger man jumped in. He was from a smaller newspaper and could smell blood and powder in this story and wanted the juiciest details.
"You'll have to ask them their motives, but here's another fact: I'm the only veteran affected by this change. The other underaged soldiers are allowed to serve in civilian capacities until their majority whereupon they will automatically revert to their previous grade." She gave them a sardonic smile (which appeared more cute than bitter).
"So why do you think they did it?" he asked, not willing to let her go with that.
"The change only affects one person so it makes it hard not to think I've been specifically targeted. Does it seem like there's a personal component? It's difficult to imagine otherwise."
"Does this have anything to do with what happened in the war?"
"Speaking as a civilian, not as an officer of the Empire, it seems obvious. My comrades died to protect the Fatherland and somehow our pale victory was turned into terrible, humiliating defeat. Not because we lacked the will to fight and die, but because politicians wanted some magical pot of gold built on a mountain of corpses." She waved to the window, "Berun is a large, formerly prosperous city. About 1.8 million people live here. That's almost exactly the number of our brave warriors died in the war. Imagine every street, every building, everything as far as the eye can see... empty of all life. What a waste."
"That's another dangerous accusation, Colonel."
"Again, it's a matter of public record. The military advocated on several occasions to sue for peace, to the point that our enemies were even willing to accept it. But every time we were rejected. We could have come out of the war battered, bloodied, sadder and weary, but with our heads held high. Instead now we labor under the yoke of crippling reparations. Our country's lifeblood being sent to the people who attacked us! Who was in charge of that surrender? You don't have to look far."
The questions went on for awhile in the same vein while the reporters scribbled furiously.
"There was one more thing I wanted to mention, the real reason I asked you here today. It's obvious those in the Political Office had their own agenda, no matter the cost to the soldiers dying in the trenches of the Rhine, or in Norden, or in the Federation. But having given us that bitter draught of surrender, they are still abusing those same soldiers! Even now!"
The reporters looked shocked and their questions overlapped each other until she held up her hand. "First, personally, they wouldn't even allow me to withdraw my pay earned for years on the front. I had to be legally 'adopted' so that I could force them to relinquish my back pay. But other veterans, crippled from their service, have seen their pensions delayed, current soldiers their pay withheld, widows and orphans not receiving just compensation. They, unlike me, don't have enough influence to force the issue. What recourse do they have?"
Before they could ask, "All of this is public record. The policies are clear. As a military officer, I couldn't do anything, but I could ask, at the very least, that they give some recognition of the sacrifice to all those heroes. Just a token gesture, but an important one so we don't forget our horrible loss." Her voice lowered, "And I was denied!"
She pulled down the cover of the easel and showed an oversized copy of the parade request, and the glaring rejection stamp. The print shop even reproduced the bright red of the 'Extreme Prejudice' and they made extra sure that the signature of the head of the Pollical Office was clear. "Was that too much to ask? Those millions of dead and those weary survivors, don't they deserve even this much? Or are they an embarrassment to those people?!"
While they looked in shock, Visha distributed normal-sized copies of the rejection for the reporters to use. One reporter's pen ran out of ink but the ever-perceptive adjutant put a ballpoint in his hand and murmured, "Try this one." before handing out the rest of the documents.
"This is why you have been called here. Not for me... I'll be fine. But for them. They don't have a voice, but I do... and I'm using it. The dead deserve respect and admiration, but never forget the living!" Unbeknownst to both her and her audience, her voice was reaching them in a way they didn't expect. When she spoke, her arguments carried extra weight. Prejudices were blown away and even those who were opposed to her point of view persuasive. Hard-nosed and cynical reporters found themselves moved almost to tears as they imagined the plight of the forgotten soldiers.
The interview was done not long after with Tanya responding to not-so-subtle off topic questions with a cold glare. To their surprise, Visha gave each a gift bag on their way out. When they questioned her, she just smiled. "Just something the Colonel has been working on. We expect they will be quite popular soon."
The reporter who had borrowed a pen looked delighted. "You mean, I can keep this? How marvelous!"
"Eh, Erich, is it so special?" ask one of his friends/competitors.
"It's the smoothest writing instrument I've ever used, it doesn't spill and the ink dried immediately. I must admit, I was tempted to 'borrow' it and now I'm glad I've been saved from sin."
"Venial or mortal?" he joked.
"Oh, mortal for sure. This is a very nice pen!"
* * *
The next day, nearly every newspaper in Berun was haranguing the Political Office in one way or another. The censors of the war were gone and there was a lot of pent-up resentment in the fourth estate that needed to be vented. None of the stories were identical. Some focused on the plight of the veterans, others on the survivors left behind, several on the catastrophic death toll of the war and the looming recession, and most on the personal attacks on von Degurechaff.
One thing they shared in common was their disdain for the Political Office... even newspapers that were usually supporters of the administration. Their feeble protests about lack of funds were universally ignored. Even more troubling was that, now, they were actually telling the truth. As Tanya had promised, all the evidence was easily obtained and verifiable so they didn't even try to hide it. Lacking any means of getting their point of view out, they closed their offices and refused calls and visitors.
What started as a few angry citizens, grew day by day. Whether they were protesting the wrongdoings of the war, the surrender, the treatment of the soldiers, bad road maintenance or even the price of beer, everyone with a grievance came here to vent! There was no organization and most people only yelled and stomped around for a day or two. But there were always more to take their place and the capitol police gave up trying to disperse them or find out who was responsible for the incessant graffiti.
Naturally, it made the business of government nearly impossible for them. They went from being the movers and shakers to the unpleasant relatives no one wanted to claim. On a nearly daily basis, he bellowed for someone to find Sommer and bring him back. Honestly, he had no use for the man, he just wanted to make someone more miserable than himself.
This time, the Political Office definitely knew the cause of their problems but she was immune to anything they could do to her. Certainly, she barely gave them a second thought after that.
* * *
After the reporters left, Visha and Tanya relaxed with coffee and cakes in their rented rooms. "Colonel..."
"Please use my name... unless you see me in uniform again."
"Tanya, why did you do that? How will it really help our veterans?" She had puzzled through the consequences of the interview and, other than an increased public awareness, she didn't see the ultimate benefit.
The diminutive soon-to-be-former officer sipped her drink contentedly. "Two reasons. The first is that it shields those veterans, and us, pretty thoroughly. If the Political Office tries anything nasty, they will get the worst of it. And the second is more indirect. If I ever whistle for those reporters in the future, they'll come immediately! We are going to make a huge corporation Visha. You and I and all those veterans and unemployed people. That takes money, however, and advertising... which usually means money."
"Ah! Those reporters will be like free advertising for whatever you do!"
"Exactly. As long as I'm interesting enough, they'll ramble on all day about our new products, opportunities for veterans or whatever. They are dogs that are barely tamed. They'll skulk around and do tricks and make themselves useful at times, but you need to throw them a bone every so often. Mutually beneficial."
"They seemed to enjoy the 'bone' we gave them this time. They couldn't stop talking about the ballpoint pens."
"You see? Every time they use that pen, they'll think of us. Plus they'll come back around when they need to buy more ink. When TvD becomes a household name, they'll brag about how they were there first with the story." They had engraved those 3 letters on the shaft of every pen.
"I'm glad you agreed to the company logo."
Tanya grumbled, "What could I do? You and the men were so insistent!"
"It still makes sense. You have the highest profile of any of us. And there's no other unifying feature. Do we make pens? Do we sell surplus parts? Do we provide contract labor? Yes, yes and yes. There's nothing in common!"
"No need to rehash the arguments, I've already surrendered." She clapped her hands softly together, changing the topic. "Now that we have funds, and more on the way, it's time for phase II. Start hiring veterans but be picky at first. Smart people who can become managers in the future. Have them scout out property in the city that can be had cheaply. We'll use those as the surplus discount storefronts at first. Ugar has kindly let us purchase his surplus piecemeal rather than all at once but I don't want to abuse his generosity. Remember to tell them we aren't looking to squeeze every mark out of the sales. We want volume and no dead stock. We're getting everything cheaply enough it might as well be free."
"That can't last forever, ma'am."
"It doesn't have to. I'm guessing maybe two years at most with maybe a trickle after that. By then, we'll covert those storefronts to something more profitable. Also, get someone who can schmooze with the banking types without raising hackles."
"Ah! I think I know a person. Sergeant Hammerschmidt was very successful in getting the bank to accept the gold drafts. He helped out a lot of people during that time."
"Excellent. His job is hunt down foreclosed properties, upside-down mortgages and businesses about to go under. I don't care what type of business or industry as long as they own real assets like land or equipment. Wait, modify that. We're especially interested in farms and manufacturing, others are secondary. They still need to own the land, but we want land that can produce."
"May I ask why?"
"Yes, and don't be so hesitant! These aren't military secrets and you are my first partner." She didn't notice Visha's happy blush and started to pontificate. "Whereas people will see something failing, or worth far less than what they paid for it, what I see is something of real value that people are attaching foolish numbers to. We need to look past the surface and see the potential." She snapped her fingers. "That reminds me. All other things being equal, veterans that can't get jobs due to injuries are to be preferred. Not at the expense of quality, but if they can work, I don't care if they've been scarred by the war."
Visha nearly teared up. She's saving all our comrades! The Great War is over and she's still saving lives! She remembered how the two of them had walked through the streets a few days ago and at how many beggars there were in Berun. A staggering amount compared to a decade ago. And the majority, by far, were veterans... usually missing a limb, or an eye, or scarred by flame and steel. Tanya had frowned then and had been quiet all the way back to the apartment.
This will be excellent, better than I could have dreamed! We can get disciplined men on the cheap and they'll be so grateful for the work, we can count on them to give it their all every day! I can't believe people are ignoring such valuable human resources even considering the unemployment rate. "Along those same lines, I already have a listed of shuttered textile plants we'll be converting."
"Oh?"
"Yes. We need facilities to produce... ummm..." She forced herself to continue. "S-sanitary pads. Yes."
"Ma'am. I find it hard to imagine former soldiers making those. In fact, the thought is rather unpleasant." She wrinkled her nose at the idea.
"Ah, that won't be a problem. We'll only hire women to work there. Give preference to widows and offer cheap daycare for those with children too young for school. Inexpensive housing near to the factory is already available and is included in their wages. When those plants went belly-up, they left a lot of empty buildings behind. Meals will be provided, too."
Visha was stunned. She hadn't even considered that! "Will that work? It seems too generous to make a profit and then what will happen?"
"Don't worry. Semi-communal living can be quite inexpensive and since the outlying buildings are already there, we just need to get them up to living standards. The cooks and caregivers will get the same benefits as well but everyone will be expected to keep their own areas neat." She reached for her cup and only paused so Visha could top it off. "Really, it's just the army model in civilian clothes. You can do a lot with a little if you plan properly. But I'm going to insist the food actually be edible!"
The woman laughed! "Army food isn't THAT bad."
"My dear Visha, your opinion is noted no matter how wrong it is. We'll give the cooks a budget and let them stretch it however they see fit. Housewives have done it for centuries and managed to feed people without torturing them."
"Widows... there are so many of them."
Tanya nodded. "It's worse than that. The war removed almost 2 million eligible bachelors and husbands from this world. Women are going to need to fend for themselves. Immediately. We'll have no dearth of applicants. You've even given me an idea for a slogan for... those. 'Made by women, for women'."
"Oh, that's nice! It reminds me when my mother made my first ones for me. Yours are so much better, though."
"Ahem, yes. Our advertisements might use that idea, actually. Maybe market them as a gift as well as a necessity?"
"Something like a picture of a mother giving her daughter a box, hugging her, both smiling."
Tanya stared at her adjutant. "Visha, you might have a talent for this. Keep that in mind, we'll use it. I might put you completely in charge of this line, actually. No, don't object, you take it over. Give yourself 10% of the net, I'll sign as soon as you get me the paperwork."
"Ma'am!"
"Enough with the arguments! You'll sweat for your ten percent, I assure you! Oh, I also find the thought of men touching – those – very unpleasant. Very. Design a display case that has a cash slot so that customers can pick up their packages and pay for them without anyone even having to talk about them. I think this will save embarrassment all around and boost sales."
"What name brand?"
"Ah, something easy to pronounce anywhere in the world. We are going to ship these everywhere. Something feminine."
Serebryakov thought about it. "How about 'Zart'?"
Hmmm, that's catchy enough and it means tender/gentle in Germanian so our initial customers will like it. "Go with that. If we make other products for women, they'll be under the Zart brand and use the same catchphrase." She stood up and looked out at the city. It was getting dark but even she could tell fewer people were willing to spend money to have lights on in the evening. "But even these are asides. Let me tell you how our REAL money is going to be made."