Tanya von Degurechaff
"So there's an unknown alien power to the north of us that is at war with various tribal groups, and we just happen to be plopped down right in the middle of it?" Maybert asked.
Captain Gernot Meybert was a pump middle aged man. Despite the rationing and general poor conditions, he always found some way to retain his big plump frame. That's not to say he was fat or lazy, I'd seen the brown haired green eyed man sweat in the mud lugging shells with the rest of his men.
It's just that he seemed to never lose an ounce of fat or muscle in all these travels. So it was quite the look when the squat mountain of a man did not look happy, and that was to be expected.
A lot of officers who were stuck in the city when it had been surrounded pretty much assumed they were dead men walking. So, being given the chance to escape, they had all agreed in principle and practice. Our objective had been interpreted as protecting the people, not the city.
To learn about this new war when we were already facing incredible difficulties regarding our food and water supply, the revelation was going about as well as I expected it.
Besides me as Field Marshall, there were only a handful of other senior officers. There was Air Force Marshal Albrecth Kutz, who had been running what few planes we had at the end of the war, trying to keep the bombers from reducing the city. He'd survived only because that job had become suicidal even for our most fanatical pilots.
There had been General Oberst Langley Major, who'd been in charge of what was left of the 9th Army and, therefore, the bulk of my infantry. He, of course, had died to an errant artillery shell five days into the siege when touring the frontline. He'd been succeeded by Major Geoffries Oberst.
Yes, it was as confusing as you'd think. Theoretically, Oberst was under my command due to a last-minute promotion. But my "promotion" wasn't even a full damn promotion, it was a brevet rank, one that could and likely would be withdrawn once the war was over. Since the war was technically over, it was debatable if I still had that rank.
Procedurally, I'd need to appear before a board of my peers and civilian representatives and then receive a full hearing on the necessity of my rank and rating. But because we were under martial law, and the civilian government's highest rank right now was the Berun Mayor, any such board would be farcical.
Thankfully, Oberst had yet to fight me on my rank, but he was giving me that look that told me I was on thin ice and had little leverage with him. He technically held the same rank as me if we stripped me of my Field Marshall brevet, and his men were as veteran as mine, and more numerous too. Though he had mainly fought in the north around Ladogagrad while I had been stationed at Moskva and Dzhugashviligrad.
Beyond that, it was a gaggle of various unit commanders up and down the chain. I think Oberst gave my brevet rank more weight, considering half of the assembled officers were themselves brevet ranked, with many NCOs leading companies. The only other notable officer was a naval attache who'd voluntarily stayed in the city to try and organize an evacuation. A pipe dream, doomed to failure, but one that required a sacrifice, and he'd taken the job. Once he finished the feasibility study and assembled the available boats, the Russy had taken over the whole of the river system and could just fire anti-tank guns into anything trying to float down river. He'd thrown in support for evacuating the city through the gate, but besides the naval mages also trapped in Berun, he was a nonentity, and he'd said as much.
I looked to Meybert, finished stalling, "Yes, and I took the liberty of defending those people when it became apparent that this was not just some slave raid."
"So you've put us at war with unknown people without consulting the rest of us!?" He called, standing up from his chair and looking pissed.
I nodded my head, "Yes." I let that sink in, "There could have been other ways to handle it, I know, but I have a feeling I'm going to be vindicated very shortly."
Meybert slammed a fist, "Who cares!? So what if they died? Right now, every day, we lose at least a thousand people to preventable causes. This is exactly why the war with the communists went as it did. You had to go and raid Moskva, destroy half the fucking city, convincing the communists to fight to the death! And while we were struggling with them the allies landed damn near unopposed!"
Oberst sighed heavily, the air of a man who didn't want to get out of bed but he must, "Well, that's harsh. The Russians invaded first, if you forget, and the front line was a mess because we were caught flat-footed. We were unable to properly man the frontline against them and were at enormous strategic risk of encirclement in the north. If it hadn't been for the 203rd's raid on Moskva, the Northern Army Group would likely have been obliterated. Her attack on Moskva terrified the communists, and we saw entire corps retreat to reinforce their center."
Meybert growled, "And I'm not discounting the immediate strategic and tactical benefits of her raid. I'm pointing out the consistent flaw she's had in her thinking, and that's her failure to see things from a political viewpoint. Her attack on Moskva signaled an escalation of the war that transformed it from a territorial conflict to an existential one."
"It was always a war about national existence." Albrect interceded again, "The communists had sworn to destroy all monarchies. Lest you forget, we were one. They were going to come for us eventually. Through the Field Marshal's quick thinking we managed to save the majority of the Canaanites and—"
Weiss spoke up, taking control of the room, "Besides that, what do you expect her to have done? Stand by and do nothing?" He looked everyone over, "The fact of the matter is that we were watching our best chance for local collaboration be murdered before our eyes. Unless you think these Jaffa would be willing to talk instead of shooting us on sight, we've managed to annihilate their patrol and secure a source of intelligence crucial for our forewarning."
"Furthermore, their technological advancement seems to be a facade as far as we can tell. Our examinations of their technology seem to show an archaic level of thinking and employment." Weiss added.
While he wasn't exactly wrong, he was sugar-coating it. I'd come with examples of their weapons and armor, the staff weapons may as well be muskets in comparison to our firearms in terms of usability. Their armor was made of mid-grade steel with a chain-link cuirass and a leather undersuit that could be pierced by a full powered rifle cartridge. By all appearances, their application of military technology was, as Weiss called it, archaic.
They expected to fight pre-industrial nations, that's just what their equipment design told us. Taking that into consideration, there might be a way to threaten them into not doing anything if we presented them with a show of force. A risky action, and one that I could not do unilaterally, especially after last time.
But could I be sure of that? Years ago, back before Francois pulled its nonsense, I would have smugly assumed that yes, a modern people, even one so archaic, would see reason and conclude that a fight between us was not good for either side. But the evidence I'd seen so far was pretty ironclad, and that was just for human beings, let alone aliens.
After the African campaigns and the endless Russy steppes, I realized that perhaps maybe I was the one not thinking with the right logic. That had become very apparent to me, and as far as I was concerned, making the assumption that people would come to the logical and right conclusion was a fool's venture.
And if it's a fool's venture, then I should throw my hat in the ring for at least self-defense. I finally spoke up, lost in thought, "He's correct. We should prepare for them to come for us. We need to build a line of defensive works just north of the settlement, preferably as far north as we can, and we need to cut down as many trees in front of that line as possible so that they can't sneak up on us conventionally, and force all development and farmlands to start going southwards."
Meybert sat down, rubbing his calloused hands against his sweating temples, "Southwards, just how far away are these Canaanites again?"
"The mountains. We estimate it to be about fifty miles away, just at the edge of our operational range for one day's flight. If you're worried about the Canaanites attacking us, don't be. You saw the terrain you needed to cross to get to that encampment, it would take them a week, maybe two to cross that distance." I looked everyone over, "Regardless of which, we've already saved some of their people, we have, if not their loyalty, then their appreciation."
"Oh, that's a very nice sentiment," Meybert scoffed. He normally wasn't this combative, which meant he was royally agitated by something unrelated, "But goodwill doesn't solve any of our other problems. We don't have enough ammunition and guns for a prolonged war, with no means of resupply. We have no means of producing the fuel necessary to mechanize ourselves, we have no means of producing mage orbs either. Artillery? I have five thousand shells, per gun, that's it. No replacements. And that's assuming that they don't have some infrastructure elsewhere on the planet that has, I don't know, a spaceship that could destroy us with a giant laser beam. There's no indication that you can't scale up one of those staffs after all, what do we do then?"
That's why I liked Meybert, he could be a pessimist sometimes, but generally at the right times, "Those are all good questions, and our biggest resource we're short of is time." I looked everyone over, "These locals know everything there is to know about the local land that doesn't require technology. Where is swampy, where is spring water, what is fertile, even the makeup of stone. I saw them using coal, coal, to fuel their stoves. I did not come here to fight another war, but by god, if they start it, I'll fly over there and finish it myself."
"Even our food situation could be alleviated if we take over those farms around this city of Pashannah. Adlai, the elder I spoke to, claims that the farms there are supernaturally bountiful." I looked everyone over, the doubting faces, the exhausted ones, the impassive ones, "The alternative is simple, we go back through the gate to Earth. However, it's only been a few weeks, the Commies would still be in full control of the city by my reckoning. They'll take the gate for themselves and not listen to our warnings. Do you want a communist army rampaging through here, pissing off the aliens and then with no signal discipline, telling them all about the homeworld?"
Everyone gave me grave looks at that, Meybert sighed, "Fuck." He admitted in defeat, "Right then, boss, what's the plan?"
Kutz raised his hand, "I have some scout planes available with enough aviation fuel to keep them going for a while, with plenty of camera film to take pictures. Perhaps we fly in low and get a view of what we're up against?"
I nodded. Recon, first-hand look at the lay of the land was always a good start, "You have my permission." It's not like an airfield would be hard to get going. All we needed was a flat surface clear of stones and stumps and humps and he'd be ready to go. Why would you look at that, there was plenty of untilled farmland ready to be appropriated.
There was general hubbub as men spoke among themselves about what to do when a low pitched whine entered my ear. I stood up and held up my hand. Everyone fell silent. Weiss spoke first, "I hear it too-" Distant booms reverberated.
"We're under attack." I announced without emotion. Everyone looked around to one another then they pressed to leave the tent and scatter to their units like a flock of disturbed pigeons, "Meybert, Albrecht, stay here, Visha get the radio out!" I shouted and was greeted by Visha holding up a receiver, "Hello? What's going on? What's happening?"
"This is Outpost Forty-Five!" Someone young sounding shouted, "We spotted three aircraft coming in from up river. Before we could signal them, they flew over our camp and strafed our people indiscriminately. They're coming around for another attack. We don't have any anti-air weapons, ma'am! Should we return fire with our rifles?!" I hadn't been eager to start handing out machine guns or any of the heavy stuff, so really all they had in reply was their rifles and harsh language.
Note to self: Immediately dispatch the artillery to the field outposts.
I narrowed my eyes, "Take cover in the forest, hold your fire. Degurechaff is deploying with Sixth Company." I handed the receiver back to Visha who nodded grimly.
I finally exited the tent and saw in the far distance three dots flying in the air. I watched as they smoothly banked and began firing beams of light from their fronts into the ground below. Dammit Meybert, why'd you have to be right about them scaling their weapons?
Visha came up with my equipment, and I began to rapidly buckle my mage core and jet boots on. My Bodyguard, the Sixth Company, was always ready to go as a quick reaction force, "Don't wait for me!" I shouted at Grantz, "Get in the air and bring those bastards down! I'll catch up!"
Grantz, who had tried to hover over, nodded and turned away shouting, "Go go go! Kill them!"
Visha came into my peripheral, "Should I join you?"
"No. I need you to coordinate us, have Weiss and his Second Company stay in an overlapping formation and come in low over the flank. We have no idea how powerful those plasma blasts are, so I want overlapping shields!"
With that declared, I initiated my core and began to rocket up into the air, catching up with the trailing edge of my bodyguards.
I pulled out my binoculars to get a look at the attackers. I didn't have much of an eye for aerodynamics but these things looked mean. They had a forward-facing semicircular moon shape, with an obvious cockpit, and it all looked like a solid piece of metal. They were strafing over to fire at Outpost Forty-Five and already I saw fires exploding across the entirety of the refugee camp.
It looked like they hadn't noticed us yet, which was good, hopefully. We had no idea if these things had shielding until we got a shot off, "One volley! Standard spread! Full power!" I ordered and took aim. The fighters looked set to unleash another wave of blasts into the outpost, but this time we preempted them, explosive spells exploding around them in such a fury that they were obscured by smoke.
One of the craft fell down from the smoke cloud, having lost a wing, sheared at a hidden joint. It was spinning out of control, and I saw it crash into the woods but not explode.
The other two came around, dead on. The trailing fighter was smoking slightly and looked to be wavering as he dipped in and out of the lead fighter's slipstream. They were fast, terrifyingly so, and handled well in an atmosphere, but I'd yet to hear the sound barrier break. We could still dogfight, and we could still joust.
The blasts of plasma leapt out now, and I heard an aborted scream as someone on the other edge of the wing was obliterated.
"Fire at will!" I screamed. I didn't care how much energy we expended, if we were jousting, we were firing back. Grantz began to fire his LMG on full auto, explosive shells pattering off the lead fighter's nose cone and cockpit windshield. That caused it to divert as the trailing fighter was now exposed to a full-powered spell hitting it dead on the cockpit, exploding the thing in one reverberating explosion that nearly blinded me.
The lead fighter, seeing that its wingmates were dead, decided to start pulling out, turning on a sharp glide to head north. It didn't get very far as Weiss's formation came up from under it and fired a full spread of spellshot into it. For a moment, I thought it was unharmed, but then it started to wobble and drift west and down. It would crash land somewhere, and by the looks of Weiss's gesticulations, he was planning on boarding the damn thing before it did.
Grantz looked at me, a crazed look of adrenaline in his eyes, "For god's sake Field Marshall, get back to safety!"
I blinked, then looked around. Shit I did just endanger myself like that, "Check in with Outpost Forty-Five Grantz and get me a casualty report!" With that final order, I banked away back towards my command tent.
As I skidded to a landing in front of my tent, Albrecht gave me a short golf clap, "Well, that settles that," he smiled sadly. "We now know what would have happened if they'd discovered us."
Meybert hadn't gone far, in truth, he'd sat in a foldout chair beside the tent's entrance, "I do admit, the fact that their first instinct on seeing us was to shoot probably means they were always going to be hostile." He did not look happy with that revelation.
I began to pull off my gloves and turned to Visha, who had only just gotten her jet boots on, "Full air raid warning is now in effect." I started to dictate to her, "All civil and military authorities are to start establishing air raid shelters and trench lines at their garrisons. Obscuration from observation through camouflaged netting is mandated when available. I don't want our grain stores going up to a lucky hit! Get the engineering battalions to the north and start setting up for a conventional ground assault." Visha saluted once I finished giving the order and made her way inside my tent to access the radio.
I turned to Albrecht, "It seems our situation has just deteriorated." I took a deep breath to tame my rioting heart, "Get me pictures on what I'll be attacking Air Marshall."
"We'll do our best." He bowed his head with a sly smile, "It's what we're best at."