86 - Volume 11 - Chapter 6

10.4

D-DAY PLUS THREE

With the front lines having fallen back to the depths of the combat territories, signs of the fighting reached as far as Rüstkammer base, which sat between the combat and the agricultural territories.

The nearby town was issued an evacuation notice, since it could end up being involved in the coming fighting. At the same time, public facilities like schools, community centers, and theaters were opened to allow the Wulfsrin a place to evacuate to.

And that also applied to the special officer school building and dorms made for Raiden and the other Eighty-Six.

“…Is this really all right, though?”

If this town was in such danger that its citizens had to be evacuated deeper into the country, why have the Wulfsrin take cover there?

“Well, that’s just what life’s like for us.”

Raiden turned around, finding Bernholdt was the one who’d said that.

“…That beastmen thing again?” Raiden snorted out.

The people of the battlefield who spent their lives in war were scorned by the ordinary, peaceful citizens.

“Ah, no, not that… It’s just that they’re going to serve as reserves in case things go south,” Bernholdt said and, upon seeing Raiden’s questioning glance, shrugged. “The Wulfsrin are beastmen cubs, too. Defending the border is our born purpose. Once they unpack and settle down, they’ll start independent training. The women and the kids, even the retired old men and hags.”

With the front lines on the retreat and many soldiers dead, they would voluntarily step up to fill the void.

Glancing at the nearby town with his cold, golden gaze, Bernholdt spoke.

“The ones coming here are from our village or bloodline. They’ll probably be pretty well-trained by the time we’ll need them, so I’ll introduce ’em to you and the captain later. Assume you’ll be working with them before long.”

Three days had passed since every front on humankind’s sphere of influence was bombarded by the satellite missiles. And as they all expected, the Strike Package was finally ordered to deploy.

Lena and Shin sat with an office desk between them, their expressions stern as neither of them could mask their emotions upon seeing the contents of the mission. They were in Lena’s office in the Rüstkammer’s base’s barracks, and they each had the necessary information, both in their hands and projected as a hologram over the desk.

Lena groaned, her fair brow furrowed. She expected them to be sent deep into the Legion territories to destroy the Mass Drivers, but…

“…It looks like we’re in for even a tougher mission than that.”

“Supporting the Federacy relief expedition’s retreat from the Republic…” Shin read the mission outline. “Maintain a retreat path for four hundred kilometers south along the old high-speed railway until the Strike Package and expedition forces both successfully retreat.”

Since the Charité Underground Labyrinth operation six months ago, the Federacy relief expedition force had been deployed in the Republic. They’d been gradually pulling out as the months went by, but they were still a pretty large force consisting of several brigades.

There were over fifty thousand personnel, with seven hundred combat and transport vehicles, including Vánagandrs. Counting all the equipment, fuel, and raw materials they would be carrying, the sheer mass of the group was tantamount to moving an entire city—across a long distance of four hundred kilometers.

Supporting that kind of endeavor was much easier said than done.

“Even if a number of support personnel, the military police brigade’s personnel, and some of the infantry will be going via train, it’s still going to be difficult. Transport trucks can’t move quickly across unpaved roads, and the armored personnel carriers and Vánagandrs are going to require fuel transport trucks. Feldreß aren’t built to move for as far as four hundred kilometers without maintenance stops, and it’d take us a while just to cross that distance. So if any battle breaks out…”

Vánagandrs were capable of outputting a cruising speed approaching one hundred kilometers per hour, but to compensate for being able to move fifty tonnes of combat weight at such velocities, they were extremely inefficient when it came to fuel. They absolutely needed an escort of fuel transport trucks, which meant they couldn’t move at their maximal speed to cross those four hundred kilometers as quickly as possible. After all, those trucks were both sluggish and unarmed, meaning they needed to be protected.

In addition to that, the transport trucks they’d need to rely on to ferry supplies were weak and slow vehicles by comparison, meaning the Feldreß would need to match their speed, holding up the whole queue. Not just that, but the expedition force also had too many supplies for the trucks to deliver in one trip, which meant that the trucks would need to make multiple round trips at that slow pace.

“The expedition hasn’t sent their retreat plan in yet, but we’re building our current retreat plan while assuming they’ll be discarding low-priority equipment,” Shin said. “Or rather, we’re expecting them to just bring back their personnel and vehicles. I don’t mean to offend, Lena, but I think the most precious resource the Federacy needs right now is people. Both ethically and practically speaking.”

“…Yes.” Lena nodded.

The Federacy was a superpower with vast territory, meaning that they could mine and replenish assorted resources. So while they couldn’t very well discard Vánagandrs, vehicles, armored exoskeletons, or firearms, they could afford leaving behind barracks and the like with all their utensils and fixtures behind.

By contrast, there was no replacing dead people. Even ignoring the moral implications, humankind was among the slowest mammals when it came to the amount of time it took a newborn reach reproductive age, requiring between one to two decades. The Federacy was already in a situation where they were forced to rely on some child soldiers to keep up their ranks; they couldn’t afford to let soldiers die needlessly.

“So if all we have to do is support the expedition force’s retreat, it’ll be tough, but I think we can manage that much. With the Legion’s main force locked in a stalemate with the western front’s army, there won’t be that many Legion left in the territories. The southern high-speed rail was a spot we captured and restored in the Morpho elimination operation last year, so we have updated maps on hand. So long as the slowest in the group, the infantrymen and the transport trucks, can reach the Federacy, the Reginleifs can quickly escort the Vánagandrs back and return to pick them up.

“At least, so long as nothing as persistent as the Phönix doesn’t pop up,” Shin appended in something of a joke. The Phönix were opponents Shin had quite the history with, but since they lacked projectile weapons, they were weak in open battlefields where they could be exposed to surface suppression. They were lightweight and thinly armored, meaning that they were perhaps more durable than infantry but still quite frail. Shin made that remark knowing that it wasn’t likely they’d be put into use on this battlefield.

“Except…” Shin sighed lightly. “Helping the expedition force retreat is our first priority, but even though it’s just our second priority…supporting the entirety of the Republic’s population retreat… That one might be hard.”

Citing a lack of defensive facilities and an insufficient military force to defend their territory as their reasons, the Republic’s new government appealed to the Federacy to accept the evacuation of all its citizens. The Federacy assented to the request, out of humanitarian reasons.

This would be a transport operation of unprecedented scale, using the high-speed railway after the expedition force’s personnel retreated. Since this was a railway track, they’d have to rely on freight trains, which would have to make multiple round trips, day and night, in order to deliver all the Republic refugees to their destination.

Even with last year’s large-scale offensive whittling the Republic’s population to less than a tenth of its size, this was still an entire country with several million people. Even if the expedition force was to discard everything but its most essential supplies and give up most of their train space to accommodate.

“Do you think it’s possible?” Lena asked.

“We’ll be able to maintain a defensive line for seventy-two hours at best. If everything goes smoothly and according to plan—from the assignment and order of the trains’ departure, and assuming everyone boards and disembarks the trains fast enough—we could just barely make it. But if any unexpected setbacks happen, making that seventy-two-hour time limit would be difficult, and we’d be dealing with untrained citizens who’d need to do this right without any preparation. And I’m guessing some people would be opposed to the evacuation either way.”

“There have been some weird statements flying around…” Lena nodded, her eyes distant.

People had been claiming that the war was a conspiracy by the Republic military, or the government, or that the Federacy or the United Kingdom were behind it all.

Back in the first large-scale offensive, people were throwing around utterly absurd theories about how this war was all a conspiracy by underground lizard people who controlled the other countries and the Legion behind the scenes. Having people chant those theories like gospel was harmless and did no real damage on its own, but hearing about it after the fact filled Lena with a strange sort of weariness.

Why lizards?

“But, and I might be coming across as a broken record here, figuring that out is the Republic government’s job, not the Strike Package’s. Our mission is still maintaining the retreat route, and the Republic’s retreat shouldn’t influence it. Assuming no one’s stupid enough to jump off the train, that is.”

Of course, jumping off a high-speed train moving at three hundred kilometers per hour was a feat of stupidity that was rare even among the dumbest of humans. That comment was Shin’s attempt at humor.

While Lena was wondering if laughing would be appropriate, Shin carried on indifferently.

“That said, this is all just something we’re doing on the side while helping the Federacy forces retreat. Anyone who doesn’t make it in time is out of our hands.”

But after saying that, Shin looked like he realized he’d just misspoken.

“—Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to you, Lena.”

Shin cared nothing for the Republic, but to Lena, this was her homeland. What he’d just said was something she didn’t need to hear now, when her country was teetering on the brink of destruction. Lena, however, forced herself to smile and shook her head.

“It’s fine. I’ve been prepared for this a long time ago.”

Lena did see the Republic as the homeland she was born and raised in. She didn’t want to see it perish. Being a citizen of the Republic was part of her identity, and the Republic disappearing off the face of the earth was tantamount to losing a part of herself. And yet…

“This actually isn’t the first time the Republic’s been destroyed, after all.”

It had been on the verge of destruction since long ago.

Since she became the Spearhead squadron’s Handler, and Shin, whom she hadn’t met face-to-face at the time, told her about the coming of the large-scale offensive. Her homeland was closing its eyes to reality, shutting itself off in a sweet, shallow dream, refusing to protect itself. The Republic had made no effort to protect itself to begin with.

Even when she warned of the coming calamity, no one heeded her call, and the country clung to the wishful thinking that they could keep on forcing someone else to fight their battles for them until the war resolved itself.

And that belief led to that country’s destruction.

On the night of the large-scale offensive last year, the Morpho shattered the Gran Mur, and in the blink of an eye, the mechanical ghosts ransacked the eighty-five Sectors once touted as humankind’s final paradise.

At the time, Lena never believed they’d be given any aid. Some part of her heart was prepared and resigned to accept the fact that they’d simply be wiped out.

And yet she didn’t feel like she was at fault for not saving the Republic.

The same held true now. In the face of a large-scale offensive, the Federacy unexpectedly extended a helping hand. The Eighty-Six had left the Eighty-Sixth Sector, and the reality that the Republic had to fight its own battles was thrust before its eyes.

So if the Republic was to refuse to fight despite that, then let them perish. Lena would be sad to accept such an ending to her homeland, but it would only be a natural conclusion. Lena had decided she would fight to the bitter end and left her homeland behind because she chose to live her life in a way she wouldn’t be ashamed of. She chose a new battlefield; she chose the Strike Package.

And when she left, she did so while being prepared for this conclusion—that her country, which refused to move on, would perish in its insistence. She silently told herself that this wouldn’t be her fault.

The values upheld by the Republic capital’s lofty name, Liberté et Égalité—freedom and equality. They chose, as part of their freedom, not to protect themselves, and the only ones responsible for the outcome of that was them. The Republic’s citizens prided themselves on the fact that all were equal—and everyone was their own master.

So while she did feel sad to see her country fall, she also knew it would be conceited of her to think the fault for not saving it lay solely with her. This wasn’t her cross to bear.

“Besides, right now, we don’t have the time to be saying that,” she said.

“…Right you are.” Shin smiled faintly. “For now, let’s put aside all our reservations. Both of us.”

“Yes.”

Despite being persecuted by the Republic, Shin and the Eighty-Six would save it. Even if Lena felt any kind of guilt or reservation about that, now wasn’t the time or the occasion to show it. Doing so would only be offensive to Shin and the Eighty-Six.

“But still, with all that in mind, I want you to stay on base for this mission—here in the Federacy.”

“I’ll get mad at you, Shin,” Lena said with a frown.

“I knew you’d say that, but…Lena, you’re a Republic officer.”

Shin just said something that was quite obvious. Lena stared at him with round eyes. What was he implying?

“Evacuating all of the Republic’s citizens would, honestly speaking, be very difficult. They don’t even have a consensus on whether they want to evacuate yet. So…consider the situation changing during the operation, like if they decide to hole themselves up and insist on staying in the Republic. Imagine what would happen if Republic soldiers ordered them to do so.”

What if there was an early setback in the evacuation, and all the citizens ended up being left behind? What if patriots or nationalists, who would frown upon relying on a foreign power for help—like the Bleachers—tried to take advantage of the chaos to usurp political power and order a do-or-die resistance?

“It would still be an official military order. And you, Lena—as a Republic soldier, you would have to obey. But if you stay in the Federacy, even if that happened, at worst, you’d be able to say you never got the orders. But…”

Lena wouldn’t be able to say that if she was in the Republic.

Even if she didn’t obey such an order, it would put a fatal blot on her career in the form of insubordination and desertion under enemy fire. And desertion was seen as severe enough a crime to justify gunning a deserter down on the spot.

If that happened, Lena would never be able to return to the Republic again.

But Lena simply regarded him with a bothered smile, like she was admonishing a younger brother throwing a tantrum.

“Shin, you know what they’re like. The Republic, its citizens, its army.”

For ten years, they shut themselves away, pushing their own national defense onto the Eighty-Six.

“Even after everything that happened, they still have no will to fight. That’s why the Bleachers can order them around. We can bet on it if you want; the military won’t do anything but run away the first chance they get, from the highest officer to the lowliest soldier.”

So I’ll be fine.

The Republic military would never issue orders to resist to the bitter end or hole up.

Shin remained silent for a moment.

“…I can agree to the bet part, but…,” he said, still seeming displeased. “But as for the rest, we need to be prepared for the worst… During the operation, I want you to stay in the unit maintaining the route and outside the Republic’s sphere. We can’t let them know you’re there.”

I won’t let them take you away from me.

Feeling her boyfriend’s possessive…or rather, overly worried response, Lena chuckled. Either way, her armored command vehicle, Vanadis, was too sluggish to be used in this operation, so unless she told them she was there, the Republic wouldn’t be aware of her presence.

“…Fine. I’ll give you that much.”

It felt like if she didn’t compromise, there would be no end to the boy’s sulking.

“As you know, we’ll have to stay behind at the base. So if there’s any work you need doing, pass it on to us. If it’s just office work, you could simply let us know via transmission.”

Hearing this prince from a neighboring country tell her that, Grethe bowed her head thankfully. To him, and the United Kingdom as a whole, the Republic was a diminutive faction not worthy of their attention. In which case, the ones this serpent prince was worrying about were Shin, Lena, and the child soldiers of the Strike Package. And that was something Grethe was infinitely grateful for.

“We greatly appreciate your consideration, Your Highness.”

“Don’t mention it. In exchange, as it were, I’d like for you to get me permission to use the maneuvering grounds while you’re gone. And if possible, lend Aegis to me, too.”

Grethe stared at Vika, and her eyes met those of Olivia, who was also glancing at Vika. The prince shrugged, exposed to both of their stares.

“Since we can’t expect supplies from the United Kingdom, I’ll need to examine the existing Sirins’ combat abilities. If their degree of mastery stops here, they won’t last in a battle that’s almost bound to consume them. Having them practice against someone who uses high-speed combat like they do would be a major help.”

“I see. Roger that, then…” Olivia raised his eyebrows in a joking manner. “Does this settle our debt, Your Highness?”

“Indeed it does. It was a costly one, no?” Vika met his joke with a jest of his own.

“I’m jealous,” Grethe said, picking up on their jiving mood. “If the situation wasn’t what it was, I’d have asked you to coach me, too.”

Olivia and Vika both fell silent for a moment. The person before them was a woman, a colonel, a commanding officer…and when all was said and done, their brigade commander.

Vika, who commanded an entire military front, did the same thing, but his father was the king of the United Kingdom, which valued militarism. It was his duty to stand on the front lines. But someone who was neither royalty nor a former noble—and a colonel in the Federal Republic?

“Colonel Wenzel, I’m only confirming to make sure I understood properly, but…are you really going to pilot a Reginleif in this operation, too?”

“This probably goes without saying, Frederica, but you can’t join us on this operation no matter what,” Kurena said with a stern expression, her hands resting on her waist.

“I’ll make sure to tell Fido to not let you sneak in this time. You stay behind and watch the fort this time. Understood, Frederica?” Anju only had her hands folded and spoke with a smile, but somehow, she managed to be much scarier than Kurena was.

Frederica was a past offender with a history of sneaking onto do-or-die operations, after all. The girl puffed up her cheeks grumpily. Fido, which was hiding behind her, was quite visibly shaking and let out a small, nervous “Pi…” Even Kurena could understand it was trying to say Of course I wouldn’t! The shaking was probably its version of how a human would nod nervously.

“You better remember this, Fido!” Kurena pointed an index finger fixedly at Fido’s optical sensor. “If you don’t do what we say, we’ll have Shin scold you a lot. Actually, no, if you do that, we won’t let you join us on any more operations!”

“Pi…?!” This time, the Scavenger waved its sensor unit left and right repeatedly.

Anju and Kurena nodded, satisfied.

“I will not—”

“Of course, this is because it’s a dangerous battle, too, but…you still have a role to play, Frederica,” Kurena said.

Frederica looked up with a start at Kurena, who nodded back at her. Her role. Frederica’s role was, of course, shutting down the Legion as the Empress Augusta. Up until just a few days ago, this was the counteroffensive Operation Overlord’s secret and greatest objective, as well as Frederica’s, the five of theirs, and indeed all humankind’s greatest wish—to end the war.

In those brief words, Kurena made it clear she hadn’t given up on that chance.

“Kurena…,” Frederica muttered.

“So you can’t come. You’ve got your work cut out for you somewhere else, so you have to stay put this time.”

“We do want to go to the sea this summer, after all,” Anju mused aloud. “I’d like to try swimming.”

A year ago, during the Morpho subjugation operation, Frederica followed them into battle despite the danger, but now they could see she’d done it for lack of a choice. At the time, Shin was wandering in search of a place to die. And the rest of them were likely doing the same, albeit on a more unconscious level. The idea of a future, a future outside the battlefield, was one they couldn’t bear to consider.

Frederica had been worried about them. And it only made sense that the Federacy’s soldiers, who did have families to return to and futures to aspire for, feared them so much. It was only natural they couldn’t trust them.

But now they could tell.

We’ve changed.

“We don’t need a hostage to make sure we return. We’ll come back on our own.”

“So, Frederica, we need you to watch the fort. So that when we return, you’ll be there to greet and tell us we did a good job.”

Lena was the daughter and sole survivor of the House Milizé, a distinguished, former noble family in the Republic, an elite colonel dispatched to the Federacy in the Republic’s name, and a guest officer in the Federacy military.

In other words, she would be the first person whom former nobles or distinguished members of the Republic would turn to when it came to evacuating to the Federacy.

They asked that she use her connections with the Federacy military and the Republic government so that not only they and their families, but their extended families and friends could also get first priority to evacuate. Or that she especially prepare means of transportation for all their household assets. Or that she make sure that they got on board before another household, or else their family’s honor wouldn’t stand for it. Or that she get in touch with a former Imperial family they used to have connections with.

Surely, you will take that into consideration, won’t you? Please arrange this and that and such and such for me.

She got a constant stream of similar requests from both people whose family she was acquainted with, as well as people she’d never met before. And this was right before the operation, meaning she was so busy she couldn’t possibly get around to actually drafting the plan.

All those requests were selfish to an almost refreshing extent. All of them were high-society people, and most of them were influential figures within the Republic. They were important enough that ignoring them could strain future relations between the Republic and the Federacy. And after nine years of severed communications, the Federacy didn’t know who was important and necessitated special “consideration,” meaning that making those calls of judgment fell to Lena.

To top it off, the Federacy military asked her which groups and influential persons weren’t to be placed together when accepting the refugees, which only added to Lena’s paperwork and workload.

As such, when Vika spotted Lena wobbling through the corridor, visibly exhausted from lack of sleep, he called out to her.

“Are you all right, Milizé? Do you want me to give you something that’s stronger than prescription drugs?”

“You’ve got something that good on you?!” Lena turned to look at him, her eyes positively sparkling with excitement.

“…I was joking.” Vika sighed deeply. “You’re doing even worse than you look.”

Drugs to temporarily alleviate fatigue were sometimes given to soldiers in cases where fighting for many consecutive hours was unavoidable. However, those were extremely powerful drugs that required a prescription from a military doctor. This meant that any drugs more powerful than that were certainly not something one should happily consume. And Lena would normally know that.

“If you’re too groggy to even realize that, I’d hate to think what it would do to your work efficiency. Get some rest.”

TP the cat chose this opportune moment to peek out, prompting Vika to pick it up and hand it to Lena to serve in place of a heating stone. He then pushed Lena into her room. Waiting inside was Lena’s adjutant, Second Lieutenant Perschmann, who led her to her bed. Vika could hear the sound of her bedroom door closing.

“I did assume she might be tired, but it seems she’s very much past that point,” Lerche, who stood behind him, commented.

“I do understand that there’s no chance to clear any free time, but letting her handle all the Republic’s appeals…? Since the Federacy can’t afford to be considerate of her, it falls to us to do it for them.”

Vika’s regiment and Olivia’s instruction unit would not be participating in the coming operation, meaning they had the time to manage matters. Zashya and Olivia handled the soldiers’ mental health, and their countries’ current situations would become clear as the operation went on.

Lena and the Eighty-Six, however, would be participating in the operation, meaning they didn’t have that kind of time.

“She seems detached enough for now, but it would be for the best if we didn’t give her any extra work. We need to keep her busy enough to stay distracted but give her enough time to rest, too.”

“After all, the Republic’s in the most unnatural position. They weren’t hit by any satellite missiles, and the Legion’s offensive on their territory is lax. It’s like they’re holding back from wiping it out.”

“Yes. They must have a reason for doing so. Nouzen and Milizé surely know this, too.” Vika sighed tiredly.

Surely, the Federacy truly didn’t have any breathing room left. They left saving the dying Republic to child soldiers like the Eighty-Six and a Republic officer like Lena of all people, and they didn’t even give them any time to gather their bearings.

So within all this, they had to make sure they had some leeway.

“We need to maintain enough breathing room to make sure we can deal with contingencies.”

Meanwhile, Annette, the survivor of the Penrose family—who were former Imperial nobles before they migrated to the Republic—was also bombarded with letters requesting that she act as an intermediary with other former Imperial nobles her family knew.

“They can ask all they want; I was born in the Republic.”

Support for their life after the evacuation; introduction into high society; requests for recommendations to Federacy universities; and propositions for arranged marriages. As Annette split such requests between VIPs she knew and VIPs she wasn’t acquainted with, she raised her voice in complaint.

If what they wanted was introductions, Dustin, who was a first-generation immigrant and former Imperial noble (albeit a minor one), would have been the better choice. Or rather, his parents were.

Dustin himself was currently helping Annette. His stated excuse was that he had time on his hands and wanted work as a distraction—though he was probably doing it out of sympathy for Annette, who was stuck with this mountain of letters.

He was currently organizing electronic files into folders marked as important and not important, per a list made by Annette. Letters from VIPs would receive preferential treatment by the Federacy’s higher-ups. The nonimportant letters would be gathered up at the maneuvering ground, where they’d be used to make a large campfire. For sure. And they’d use that to roast marshmallows and apples.

“Yes, marshmallows and roasted apples… Let’s go get some when we’re finished… And we can pick up some acorns. The way they crackle is really fun…”

Since the Republic was, for many years, a country based on agriculture and stock farming, acorns were traditionally used as fodder for pigs.

Dustin cracked a sardonic smile as he watched Annette—now hunching forward from exhaustion, her eyes hanging heavily—cackle like a witch.

“Yeah, we should. If we add in all the useless letters Lena got, we’d make a pretty big campfire.”

“That’s right, yeah, Lena… Why are those idiots sending the only commanding officer dispatched to the Strike Package from the Republic all these stupid petitions…? Just burn them all down… Ask Shin to cleave off their necks with a shovel, dammit…”

Realizing that when she suggested to “burn them,” she meant the senders and not the letters, Dustin shuddered for a moment.

“Well… If you ask Shin, he’d probably actually be able to process these requests,” he said. “I mean, his father was the eldest son of House Nouzen, and his grandfather, the marquis, is still alive.”

Not that they really wanted him to handle it, but the odd truth was that the person most suited to take care of this issue in their entire unit was neither Lena nor Annette, but actually Shin.

“No, that wouldn’t happen in a million years,” Annette said, staring at Dustin with a dubious expression.

“Ah, right. The people sending those letters are all bigwigs from the Republic. Even with things this bad, they wouldn’t ask an Eighty-Six for help.”

“That’s not what I meant. From where Marquis Nouzen is standing, the Republic persecuted his son and grandkids, so he’d never help them. It would ruin both his dignity and the family name.”

“…Oh.”

Apparently, for this reason, the Federacy officers who would handle the reception had also been picked carefully. The Federacy made sure that their relatives, friends, or groups and organizations they were involved in weren’t Eighty-Six.

The social life, connections, and honor of high society really are strange, Annette mused to herself bitterly. She then remembered, with a frown, one of the Federacy’s higher officers she’d spoken to a few times. He surely didn’t have the time for this right now, but a man like him was most suited for this kind of annoying work.

“Aaah, I sure could use that chief of staff’s help right about now.”

While Lena was being swamped with work, the task of coming up with the operation plan fell to the three remaining tactical commanders and Grethe. As one of the operations commanders, Shin was also consulted for his opinion.

“They sent an order asking for the colonel to return, after all. We tore it up, though,” Grethe said indifferently.

“You think it was a faction plotting to resist?” Shin frowned.

That kind of faction would get in the evacuation’s way and, more than anything, mean they’d need to increase Lena’s security. Her personal security unit, the Brísingamen squadron, was reorganized, but they might need another unit attached to her, too, if things got any worse. Maybe it’d be for the best to let Spearhead handle it…

“No. They asked for Colonel Milizé to take command over all the citizens’ evacuation.”

“I don’t think that’s a good reason to call a colonel back when they’re dispatched to the Strike Package…” Shin shrugged.

Or rather, the Republic Military ought to handle that much on their own.

“Well, it’s tough work, so no one wants to do it. And they’d probably screw up if they did. Failing this would be terrible and would also be a major spot on their track record. In that regard, the colonel is officially out of the country and detached from the current government. Her being a national hero is probably a thorn in their side.”

Grethe gazed down with cold eyes at a report she received before she carried on.

“Honestly, the Republic’s evacuation plan is a bad joke. A mess. Though, it suits the Federacy just fine.”

You wanna see it? Grethe offered, flicking the plan outline over to Shin with her beautifully colored nails.

It was, indeed, a horrible plan.

“I thought it was a joke, but it’s actually real…”

Grethe gave Shin the scan data of the Republic’s evacuation plan so he could show it to Lena and the rest of the squad members, saying they’d hear about it in briefing anyway. The boys and girls of the Strike Package sat opposite each other at one of the dining hall’s long tables. The platoon commanders for Spearhead—Shin, Raiden, Anju, Kurena, Claude, and Tohru—were there, along with a tired, wobbling Lena. Each of them was gazing at the plan’s holo-screen.

In the Federacy, lunch had the most dishes out of any meal in the day, and so everyone but Lena talked while picking away at their trays, which were lined with plates. The lack of sleep impacted Lena’s appetite, so she only had a sandwich she washed down with some soup. Her hand was gripping the projection device and visibly shaking with anger.

“On the first day, the first to evacuate would be government officers and first-ward VIPs, and after that, military generals…and then field and company officers, then noncommissioned officers and soldiers. And only then, on the night of the first day, they’re going to start evacuating citizens…?! How could they come up with such a shameless plan…?!”

Kurena, on the other hand, spoke as if none of this had anything to do with her.

“If all the important military people are leaving on the first day, who’s going to take command over the evacuation? Or protect the Republic?”

“While they’re waiting to evacuate, the Republic’s citizens are to gather at the high-speed railway terminal in the Eighty-Third Sector, and it was decided the Federacy would protect them,” Shin, who heard Grethe’s explanation and had skimmed over the operation outline on his way there, answered. “The Juggernauts aren’t reliable in battle, so they can’t have the Republic military handle it.”

Republic Juggernauts were still useful for the purpose of towing equipment—despite being too weak and fragile to serve as actual armored weapons, they did have enough horsepower to move their heavy 57 mm cannons, after all—so they would be traveling along with the transport trucks.

“But what about guiding the evacuation? Don’t tell me they’re dropping that on us, too?” Tohru asked, holding on to a sandwich.

“Can’t we just leave them behind and run?” Claude narrowed his moon-colored eyes behind his glasses.

“Nah, the Republic’s going to manage that much,” Raiden said, a mug of substitute coffee in hand.

“Based on the plan, it looks like Republic administrative workers will be the ones to do it,” Anju said, peering into Lena’s device from the side. “But the military police will be the ones managing the boarding and disembarking process, since it’s still a Federacy train… But once people find out about the evacuation priorities, they’re not going to be happy. I wonder if they have anything in mind to prevent riots from breaking out.”

“The evacuation priorities are blatantly lopsided…” Lena looked like she was listening, but she wasn’t. She gripped the device so hard it started creaking in her hand, and she was glaring at the operation plan with intense hatred. “People living in low-numbered sectors go first, and the high numbers go last… I did think the Celena would end up getting prioritized, but they’re even changing the order based on whether people are Adularia or Alabaster…! What are they thinking…?!”

Lena got to her feet and shouted out of sheer outrage, but then she sank back into her seat like she’d run out of batteries. Getting worked up like that while she was still lacking sufficient sleep seemed to have made her anemic.

As Shin pulled her by the arm and led her out of the dining hall, Kurena and Tohru glanced at them leaving and whispered.

“What’s the problem?”

“What’s Lena so worked up about?”

Raiden, who’d been sheltered within the Republic until he was twelve and knew what things were like within the Republic during the Legion War, answered their question.

“She means the rich get to go first and the poor get to go last. Celenas are the former noble class, so they’re the top priority… But I don’t know what the difference between Adularia and Alabaster is.”

“Really, you don’t know?” Claude asked curtly, his moon-colored Adularia eyes glinting behind his glasses. “Well, I’m not sure who’s the one behind it, but I think they’re trying to drive a wedge between those who get to go first and those who have to go last. Like they did with the Eighty-Six.”

A cold silence settled over the table. Claude carried on, not looking at any of them. His somber Adularia eyes were hidden behind glasses that had no optical correction to them.

“And then the Celena can side with one of the sides that had to go last, acting like they feel bad for them. That’ll make it so it’s two against one. The Alba are split into three ethnic groups, so they’ll be able to set the power balance that way when they get to the Federacy.”

The Republic’s Alba were split into Celena, Alabaster, and Adularia. If two of those groups were to join forces, the remaining ethnic group would become the minority. And they could do anything they wanted to that minority and face no consequences.

Just like they did to the Eighty-Six eleven years ago.

“Like forcing them to volunteer in the army…,” Tohru said, exhaling heavily. “That’s probably the idea here.”

The Federacy wasn’t going to accept millions of refugees out of sheer philanthropy, after all. They may have fallen back to their secondary defensive lines after the second large-scale offensive began, but that came at the cost of many casualties. They needed soldiers to rebuild the ranks. At this point, the working age across the Federacy had begun calling in women and young boys. This meant they needed to find people from outside the Federacy, even if only in terms of appearances and without ever crossing the line into cruelty.

The Republic’s citizens were a mixture of women, children, and elderly who never knew true war. However, everyone but the truly young and most infirm of elderly could at least hold a gun or an explosive.

Just as they had once forced the Eighty-Six, who’d never known war before.

“I always thought that without the Eighty-Six, the Republic would just die where it stands,” Kurena whispered.

Shin once made a prediction on what would happen if the Eighty-Six were to go extinct. That prediction was wrong, as it turned out; the Republic wouldn’t just fall to ruin without ever fighting. They’d have just fought the same way they always did—by forcing the burdens of war on the Alabaster or the Adularia. They’d probably reduce them to subhumans, just like they did to the Eighty-Six.

They’d already stripped people of their humanity once before. And if they did it once, they could just as well do it again.

“They’d have done the same to their fellow Alba… I guess that proves it didn’t have to happen to us. It didn’t have to be the Eighty-Six.”