Hrm? I suddenly sit up straighter.
A young first lieutenant? Why does the doctor, back in the capital, know about Grantz’s whereabouts? I only dispatched him the other day. Of course, this is why we are having this ridiculous conversation over a field telephone. Now it all makes sense!
“Unfortunately, the fellow seemed to have lost his wallet, ration tickets and all. He had gotten himself wrapped up in a quarrel of some sort. Well, it’s not as if the young man is a complete stranger, is he? I decided to show a little kindness and get the man back on his feet. You don’t mind if I bill his taxi to the battalion, do you? After all, under war ration regulations, taxi tickets are for official army use only. I’d hate for anyone to accuse me of embezzlement.”
“Yes, that would certainly be unacceptable. I apologize if my young officer has put you out. He must have gotten carried away by his unexpected holiday. Your help is highly appreciated.”
“Not at all, not at all. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
“Please, send an invoice for the taxi our way, as well as for the cost of the telephone call. I will tell command to process payment quickly in my absence. I know you must be very busy today as well, Doctor. Please forgive the trouble.”
“I will consider it a debt in my favor.”
“A significant favor indeed. I will be sure to mark it in my ledger. Farewell, Doctor.”
Ending the conversation, I replace the receiver with a thud. Major Weiss timidly speaks up, perhaps discomfited by the curtness of my gesture.
“I’m sorry. Was that something that I should have handled?”
Major Weiss seems worried that he may have robbed his superior officer of sleep. I wave him off broadly, assuring him there is no need to worry.
“You were right to bring it to me. In fact, that resolves one concern. Half the load has been lifted from our shoulders, more or less.”
“It was about Lieutenant Grantz, then…?”
I nod.
With long-distance telephone calls, there is always the palpable worry that someone could be listening in, and this was one conversation we did not want even our own forces to hear. The doctor’s tact was a surprising stroke of good fortune.
“What did they say?”
It is speculation, of course, but I explain what I assume the doctor meant to communicate by his call.
“Capital air defense, or some other bureaucratic mechanism. I don’t know, but it seems someone had gotten hold of Lieutenant Grantz. Fortunately, the doctor managed to work things out somehow.”
“The doctor?”
“Someone in the capital who is allowed to do whatever he likes. He has quite a few connections, though I would never have expected him to be much use to the world at large.”
From my point of view, the doctor’s assistance has come completely out of left field. But even the strangest of folks have their moment to shine. Begrudgingly, Tanya adjusts her opinion of the man.
Of course, my less-than-stellar opinion of the doctor is not shared by most of the command officers around me. Ever one for manners, Major Weiss remains silent. Surprisingly, however, it is my adjutant who, despite having supposedly long looked up to Tanya, chooses to exhort me an exasperated expression on her face.
“That is the same great man who developed your orb, Colonel, not to mention the Type 97s we carry. A man of character, surely, and a respectable engineer. You shouldn’t speak about him like that…”
“In that case, Lieutenant Serebryakov, ask Lieutenant Grantz for his impression of Doctor Schugel when he returns. I’m sure he will be able to enlighten you.”
First Lieutenant Serebryakov nods. I relax my shoulders slightly as I turn away. This is good news. I have been pushing things forward under false pretenses, using General Zettour’s name. If the Empire were to foolishly butt in at the wrong time and declare these orders fake, it could derail this whole train. However…
“At the very least, Grantz should be able to explain things.”
So long as First Lieutenant Grantz manages to explain the situation to the higher-ups, no matter what General Zettour decides in the end, we will have at least made the situation known and will have a chance at avoiding catastrophe.
And if things go well, there is no reason not to expect even more. With that thought in mind, I suddenly feel as if I can handle this ridiculous deluge of administrative work for a little while longer.
Burdens seem lighter when an end is in sight.
JANUARY 15, UNIFIED YEAR 1928, IMPERIAL GENERAL STAFF OFFICE
“Stop!” demanded a guard, sharply.
The guard turned toward the visitor as he spoke, a firm sense of duty in his eyes—all unauthorized entry was strictly prohibited, regardless of rank. The current subject of that guard’s glare was First Lieutenant Grantz, who had already been attempting to rush inside the offices of the General Staff.
Grantz barely managed to skid to a halt and address the guard. To be honest, he was so nervous at this point that he felt as if his heart might explode. After all, up until a moment ago, he had been careening through imperial skies as if approaching in force.
Earlier, he had fretted over the prospect of having to argue with control and defensive command. Fortunately, in the end, thanks to the intervention of the doctor—who had close connections with the Kampfgruppe—Grantz was able to overcome that hurdle and hurry onward toward the General Staff…though he was none too sure about the doctor’s influence beyond those doors.
Supposedly, the doctor had attempted to speak with someone at the General Staff on Grantz’s behalf, assuring Grantz that he would explain everything…but how successful the doctor had been still remained to be seen.
“I am Magic Officer First Lieutenant Warren Grantz. I’ve come from Salamander Kampfgruppe with a message for…”
As Grantz timidly offered his name, the guard’s face relaxed.
“Of course. I heard from Doctor Schugel that you were coming.”
In that instant, Grantz’s respect for the sensible, good-natured scientist grew by leaps and bounds. The doctor had handled things excellently!
Whether it was his work with the orbs or his touch when it came to other people, the doctor was a real man of character, an unsung hero supporting the Empire from behind the scenes. It was reassuring to know that he stood on the shoulders of such giants.
“You have an urgent message from a unit under direct the General Staff command, correct…? Please, feel free to pass.”
“Thank you for your hard work.”
Returning the man’s salute, Grantz continued deeper into the halls of the General Staff office, hurrying slightly as he went. It was not long before he encountered a new obstacle, however.
“Stop!”
“Huh?”
Just as Grantz had set his sights on where he presumed General Zettour’s offices would be, he was accosted by a major with a rifle slung over his shoulder and a first sergeant, likely a veteran NCO.
The area was off-limits. Grantz tried mentioning Doctor Schugel’s name, but the men firmly repeated the same phrase. “You do not have permission. Step away.” They sounded as if they were ready to take him into custody at any moment.
Apparently, the doctor’s auspices had not been as effective here as they had been with the guard at the entrance.
No. Grantz shook his head. Now that he thought about it, this was his own mistake. Due to the top-secret nature of his mission, he had only told the doctor that he had a message to deliver. It had likely never even occurred to the doctor to speak to General Zettour’s security detail as well. The doctor had gone above and beyond, insofar as he understood the situation.
Grantz was the one who had failed to make sufficient use of the doctor’s generous assistance. Should he have broken confidentiality and told the doctor more? What was the right thing to do in that situation?
Wracked with doubt and remorse, Grantz tried to think. He couldn’t afford another mistake. There was no time for that. This was a race against the clock. He needed to find some way to get in touch with General Zettour.
These guards were strict, however. He didn’t want to waste his time arguing with them. Should he just force his way through? Break in to the General Staff Office? What in the world was he meant to do?
Grantz was nearly on the verge of tears when he caught sight of a group of staff officers walking down the hall. He realized that he still had a thin, but durable, sliver of hope.
“I am First Lieutenant Grantz, a member of General Zettour’s personal guard!” he shouted desperately, as it suddenly hit him that he technically had the appropriate authorization.
“Hold on, we weren’t told anything about this. We can’t just let you through…”
“Then get confirmation! It’s Grantz! Tell them First Lieutenant Grantz is here!” he shouted.
Somehow, please! Grantz begged. If only someone who knew him would pass by now. Just as he was beginning to lose hope, however, and seriously consider the option of using his orb to break through…
“Grantz? Wait, First Lieutenant Grantz? Of the 203rd?”
The words, spoken from behind the major and first sergeant, sounded as sweet as honey to Grantz’s ears.
Grantz’s face lit up. I’m here! he wanted to shout. In contrast, the guard major glanced over his shoulder with a look of consternation as he spoke to the person standing behind him.
“Colonel Uger? I’m sorry, do you know of a person named First Lieutenant Grantz?”
“With the 203rd, correct? I am only loosely acquainted with him, but I would recognize his face…,” said the voice, mercifully.
“P-please! I beg your pardon, but this is an emergency!”
Clutching the note at his breast, Grantz took a step toward Uger, ready to entrust his last glimmer of hope to the man.
“Hrm? Why, it is Lieutenant Grantz. What are you doing here, so suddenly?”
“Here,” said Grantz, desperately thrusting the note entrusted to him by Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff into Colonel Uger’s hand. “I have been sent by Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff with an urgent report on the current situation in the East. I have been tasked to seek a meeting with General Zettour or, if that is not possible, with Colonel Lergen, or yourself!”