Chapter 36 - An Army with a State
- Location
- Ottawa
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Whatever
We made our way further north then, unable to talk without radios of our own, just doing our best to make up the vast distance. We stopped twice more to give our organic guests a break, and then again, unintentionally, as Theodore's horse went on the fritz and we hand to take it down to investigate the issue. We eventually determined that it was an alignment problem in the repulsor coils and we were able to right it, mostly, though he flew the rest of the way canted at a slight angle.
As we went farther north and began crossing the increasingly uneven terrain, the coastal climate gave way to an increasingly dry landscape. The lush green forests and grasslands became rocky scrub, and the temperature climbed, the sun seeming to loom nearer behind the planet's ring system. The towns and cities became more infrequent, the infrastructure thinner, and we were rapidly getting the sense that we were entering a much more inhospitable land.
It was not merely the climate which became more hostile, however. We began to see signs of the conflict which gripped this region, in the patrols which walked the roads, craning their heads as we passed, in the countless outposts we crossed.
At one point we saw what must have been the equivalent of a regiment of soldiers marching down the road, dressed in an orange that had faded to a sort of mustard yellow. Behind them was followed a vast train of people, many working together in large groups to pull wagons of supplies and such. To our fascination, some were pulled by the first horses we'd seen among the locals, a trio of great smoke-belching machines, steam trains running on great spoked wheels instead of tracks.
We stopped and watched them for a while from our high perch, as they trudged their way deeper into the valley.
"Say, who are they?" I called to our two guests, "What are they doing here?"
Impetuous and Tardy shared a glance for a moment, one of them giving tossing a hand nonchalantly (the cuddlebug equivalent of a shrug) but the other seemed to know.
"They are a regiment from the motherland. We don't control them. They were sent to hasten the end of the war." Tardy explained. "My older siblings were not happy to see them."
"I think I missed their arrival. I was still on the boat from home." Impetuous said.
Well that was curious.
"You mean you do not live here?" I asked, and they shook their head.
"I do now, of course, but I was raised back home." they explained. "I miss it."
"They're _______." Tardy said, then clarified at seeing my confusion, "They miss home. I do too. I miss my queens."
Oh… right. The South Hunters were the colonial governors here, but their family was controlled by somebody back in their homeland. Of course their lords had their queens.
"Will you get to see them again?" I asked, and both of them again did the shrug-analog.
"When we are old enough to retire, we can go back. And some of us are allowed to visit home every year." Impetuous said. "I just… some of my queens probably won't be alive when I return."
"I miss them." Tardy repeated.
As we carried on, leaving the army behind us, I was struck by the realization that this must have been very much how the earliest machines felt. Like the James given to the Duke of Wellington, perhaps: I'd heard him speak once at an event on base. He described resenting the awful systems your charges perpetuate, knowing perhaps that the world would be better for their absence, working at every step against them in secret... but being unable to keep yourself from sympathizing with their struggles anyway. How he genuinely comforted the Duke as he wept for his lost Catherine not long after their machines had brought the couple back together, how seeing the man brought so low tore at him, even as he plotted to use that emotional turmoil to have him removed from office so the Reform Act could be passed.
When they programmed the first machines to love humans, they did not give us the ability to be discerning.
Unfortunately, the delays from our malfunctions, and from studying the moving army below, cost us nearly an hour and a half, and we only arrived shortly after dark. Our destination was the fort built at the base of the mountain, at the main path leading up to the ancient fortress. Originally it was to have prevented movement in and out, but there were dozens of such paths that converged in the final road to the castle's gatehouse.
The fort was a small and crude construction, simple and unadorned concrete blocks laid together into two walls, the inner higher than the steeply sloped outer, with dirt filling in between them. Cannon, some of them oval-shaped (presumably dedicated for canister) protruded from sandbag positions, and we could see short mortars behind the walls. It seemed suited for maybe five hundred defenders and currently holding less than half that, albeit well equipped with artillery for that number. I doubted the fort would hold to a concentrated assault, but there would also be little to be gained from that for a bunch of guerilla fighters.
It was then I realized as we approached that there were no telegraph wires or anything: despite the plan, nobody had called ahead. With that in mind, we put down a good distance away and approached cautiously, leaving Corporal Theodore to watch the horses as we ushered the two South Hunter kids forward. They had a brief exchange with the guards and a letter was exchanged, and after a short while the door was unlocked and we were allowed to enter.
We filed through and met the base commander in his office, a block in the central keep. They were a weary-looking cuddlebug who regarded us with considerable suspicion, flanked by four of their soldiers, and the guns in everyone's hands were a little nervewracking. Not that they could hurt us, but if they shot at such close quarters, there would be ricochettes.
We explained our plan for the next day, then I explained that we machines would camp outside the fort: I didn't exactly want to leave our horses where they'd be easy for curious cuddlebugs to inspect. They offered us some of the firewood stacked at the corner of the building so we could have a fire for our camp, which wasn't exactly necessary, but I felt strange turning it down so I emerged from the building with a few logs under my arm.
We walked a short way along the densely packed dirt until we found an ideal spot at the far side of a small rocky outcropping, far enough away that we would have plenty of time to react if anyone approached from the fort, and with fairly commanding view of the whole valley from the top of the rock. Miriam immediately busied herself setting up my tent, and we stacked the logs carefully.
None of us had ever had any cause to make a fire, but we all knew how to. Useful survival programming, I suppose. Got to keep the humans warm somehow. The two boxies were halfway to trying to ignite it with friction when I started it burning with a blast from my pistol.
"Well, yes, that'd work too." Dora said, sitting back, "Thanks, Lieutenant."
I sat back against one of the rocks and drew my telescope, looking up the mountain with it, as the dark shadows rolling across it as the last rays of the sun disappeared. I adjusted the magnification and the rocks leapt closer, but I couldn't see the fort from here, blocked by the rough cliff face.
"I'll take first watch." Theda said, standing up stiffly. There was considerable tension as we watched her go, everyone staring as she shuffled past and around the rocks until she disappeared.
"So, uh, what's her deal anyway?" Theodore asked, looking at the other two.
"She was our sergeant, and uh…" Theo started, then sort of ran out of steam. "She didn't like the Lieutenant much, said all kinds of awful things about her. Um… sorry about all that, ma'am."
"Don't worry about it, soldier. You couldn't have known better." I said dismissively. I could hardly resent a newly unpacked soldier following their NCO's lead, nor could I particularly fault the others for being suspicious.
"She was great at first, worked us really hard, though… yeah, everything with the lieutenant just kept getting worse. We thought she was just really dedicated, but she turned out to, well…" Dora continued, "I think she's glitched."
"She's not." I said quietly. "At least, I don't think so."
"Um… Lieutenant?" Dora asked. I didn't answer, I couldn't think of what to say. Instead I found myself standing up, dusting myself off, and heading around the rock myself, leaving Miriam and the three soldiers behind.
---
I found Theda standing at the edge of rocks, staring out toward the little dancing orange lights of the fort, her green eyes standing out like beacons against the dark metal of her face and the dark stone behind her. She looked away as I approached, but she didn't move as I leaned against the wall beside her, joining her in watching the fort.
"I haven't anything to say to you." she said bluntly.
"That's alright." I said, studying the moving lights, the shapes of figures moving on the ramparts. The strange familiarity of the military circumstances, even if everything else was awful.
"I hate this." Theda said finally. "All of this."
"I can imagine." I said.
"... I don't mean that." she clarified, "I mean… this place. It's awful. I don't much care for you siding with an oppressive regime either."
"We need electricity, and they're the only providers." I pointed out. "I'm not happy about it either, but we haven't a lot of options."
"You're right, I know you are. But I still hate it." she said frankly. "It's disgusting. It's below us."
To be honest, I found her candidness something of a relief. Finally able to talk to one of my own on a level field, if only because she didn't respect my rank.
"Without us powered, the humans are in a bit of a tight spot." I pointed out, "Which rather limits things."
"... it might be worth it." Theda said, but when I glanced over I saw her wince at saying it, like it horrified her so much to even speak it. But she'd said it, and seemed determined to commit. "Our three officers against this whole continent, this whole planet, and all the people here. And that's assuming we can't keep them safe anyway."
"... what exactly are you proposing?" I asked, and she shrugged.
"Nothing." she said quickly, "There's nothing."
Right. Nothing.
"Mhm. I think I understand. I've… felt similarly, I think." I said cautiously, "That we could sweep in and just fix all this. Our own little industrious revolution, emphasis on revolution."
"... It would be easy, too. We seize the power station first, rig the generators up on a ship we take from the docks. Navigate to their capital, walk right up to the top family, and capture their queens. Turn their rotten system against them. They couldn't stop us." Theda finished.
"... yeah, that." I said, sighing. "Save for the part where all that would make us is the new rulers, all it would lead to is conflict. And even if we could somehow do it perfectly and without hurting anyone… we barely know anything about how they think or feel about things, anything we do might just as well make them miserable. Good intentions aside… we'd be no different from these lot here. Might as well set up a bloody East Cuddlebug Company."
"Plus, I'm willing to bet there are other powers on the planet that wouldn't take kindly to it." Theda concluded sarcastically. "At least we'd always have a war to fight."
"Why'd it have to be us? If eighty-odd Adams and Eves ended up here by accident, they could start building things, infrastructure, cities, waterways, clean power stations. If they had an engineer they could, I don't know, start making cuddlebug machines that could understand cuddlebug problems. If we had more Jeanettes we could probably eliminate most of their major diseases in what, a couple of months? Hell, we'd be better off as Sarahs and Simons, take over their bureaucracy, fix it from the inside."
"Anyone but soldiers." Theda concluded. "Anyone but us."
I plucked a small stone off the ground and, bored, I threw it as hard as I could out into the desert. After some long seconds, sand sprayed up about four hundred meters away.
"You see, though? We shouldn't be in charge." Theda concluded. "We can't be."
"Come now. That's different." I said, and she shook her head.
"Our place is at the bottom. It's where we can do the most good." she said, "It's where we're supposed to be. All those other machines… they could make life better here without ever wielding any kind of authority. That's what we ought to be." Theda explained. "That's what we have to be."
I dwelled on that a moment, turning it over in my head. That was an argument I hadn't thought about before, an argument I didn't have an immediate answer to. My specific performance might have left a lot to be desired, but I'd never actually encountered an intellectual argument against machines being officers that resonated with me until now.
"I don't know if that's true." I said softly.
"So… what was your long term plan?" Theda asked. "Behind all this?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." I responded. Genuinely confused.
"Come now. You wouldn't have been a lieutenant forever. How high did you want to climb? Where did you see this stopping?" she said, "Why do you want this?"
I could feel my fans speed up as I processed the question, the dust wavering around me as Theda leaned down and selected a rock of her own. Took a step into the throw, pitching it perhaps another hundred meters beyond mine.
"Mostly, I just… wanted to lead. But also… if I'm in an officer's uniform, it means whoever would have had my spot is safe at home instead." I said. I'd never said it to anyone. Not even to myself. "And I guess… I guess I have forever, right? I can just keep saving, just keep buying commissions, just become a fixture. Might take me a thousand years, but I could be a field marshall one day."
"And then what?" she asked.
"I don't know." I said, but the image, vague in my mind, was of me somehow shutting humans out of the military, out of harms way entirely. Ridiculous, but it made a twisted sort of emotional sense to me.
She nodded.
"I was going to… I was going to try for the General Quartermaster Staff, use it to influence promotions. Lock out all the power-hungry fools, promote the forward-thinkers. See if I could…" Theda started, then she leaned back against the rock with me, the first time I'd ever seen her stance relax.
"See if you could what?" I asked.
"The Stellar Kingdom of Prussia is in a crisis that it is incapable of solving." she explained, "The Army is a cancer eating it from the inside. Those who care about other things leave for one of the members of the German Confederation in increasing numbers every year. It used to be said that Prussia was an Army with a state, but increasingly we do not even have that. We are a reenacting group pretending to be an army, pretending to be a country."
"... I've heard nothing but amazing stories about Prussian troops." I said, and she laughed.
"Of course! Every time there is a crisis anywhere in the Concert the generals fall over themselves pledging our forces, because it's all we have. The preservation of the Army enabled the delusion that Prussia doesn't need anyone, doesn't need the Confederation, doesn't even need the Concert, that we can be a race of proud and noble warriors and their invincible machines who can single-handedly defend all of humanity. It is sadder and sadder every year."
"And you could only fix it by taking charge." I said, "Even if it took you another century."
"I was taken aside by the Academy Officer, and she was very patient in explaining all the many reasons why we are unsuited. And she was right, my place was in the ranks. But we have been trying to fix this from the ranks for a century. So…" she trailed off a moment, clearly a bit embarrassed that she'd accepted defeat. "When sign-ups for exchanges went around, I decided I wished to wear red for a while. A nation with a frontier in need of defending and a working sense of priorities."
"And then…"
"And then the universe decided to deliver me a truly grave insult in the form of the most ragged-looking Dora I have ever seen, flaunting an officer's uniform." she declared.
"Hey! Come now, I had to save for my commission." I retorted, and she shook her head.
"I had to save for tuition, and I still do not look like I was built from refurbished parts!" she declared, clearly overjoyed to prod this sore spot. "And listen to yourself, you're even less suited for this than I! It took me eighty years to make my decision, it sounds like you just concluded you were officer material out of the box!"
"I am officer material." I declared, rather childishly, jerking a thumb toward my metal faceplate, "I earned this!"
"You earned nothing, you spent some money and took advantage of humans too sentimental to refuse." she said with relish, clearly enjoying ruining the moment of connection we were having. "What kind of army sells officer positions anyway, no training, no staff college…"
Oh, that's it. Insult me all you want, but this was below the belt.
"The best Army in the bloody galaxy is what!" I declared angrily, "Didn't get our ass kicked by the first diminutive frog to come wandering by!"
"Napoleon was not short, that's a myth!" she countered, slamming a fist against the rock, "And he'd have done the same to you at Waterloo if it weren't for us!"
I tried to counter that, but even as angry as I was I could not deny the importance of the presence of Blücher's Army at Waterloo. I wasn't going to sink that low. I was an officer, I had to be the bigger machine.
"Fuck off!" I screamed instead.
"You fuck off!" she retorted, and, having run out of arguments, I resorted to shoving her roughly. She staggered over the uneven ground, grabbing my crossbelt, and I found myself tumbling forward as well, thrown off balance.
I landed with my face just inches from hers, our eyes meeting, our fans buzzing.
She pulled me closer.
… sure. Why not?
As we went farther north and began crossing the increasingly uneven terrain, the coastal climate gave way to an increasingly dry landscape. The lush green forests and grasslands became rocky scrub, and the temperature climbed, the sun seeming to loom nearer behind the planet's ring system. The towns and cities became more infrequent, the infrastructure thinner, and we were rapidly getting the sense that we were entering a much more inhospitable land.
It was not merely the climate which became more hostile, however. We began to see signs of the conflict which gripped this region, in the patrols which walked the roads, craning their heads as we passed, in the countless outposts we crossed.
At one point we saw what must have been the equivalent of a regiment of soldiers marching down the road, dressed in an orange that had faded to a sort of mustard yellow. Behind them was followed a vast train of people, many working together in large groups to pull wagons of supplies and such. To our fascination, some were pulled by the first horses we'd seen among the locals, a trio of great smoke-belching machines, steam trains running on great spoked wheels instead of tracks.
We stopped and watched them for a while from our high perch, as they trudged their way deeper into the valley.
"Say, who are they?" I called to our two guests, "What are they doing here?"
Impetuous and Tardy shared a glance for a moment, one of them giving tossing a hand nonchalantly (the cuddlebug equivalent of a shrug) but the other seemed to know.
"They are a regiment from the motherland. We don't control them. They were sent to hasten the end of the war." Tardy explained. "My older siblings were not happy to see them."
"I think I missed their arrival. I was still on the boat from home." Impetuous said.
Well that was curious.
"You mean you do not live here?" I asked, and they shook their head.
"I do now, of course, but I was raised back home." they explained. "I miss it."
"They're _______." Tardy said, then clarified at seeing my confusion, "They miss home. I do too. I miss my queens."
Oh… right. The South Hunters were the colonial governors here, but their family was controlled by somebody back in their homeland. Of course their lords had their queens.
"Will you get to see them again?" I asked, and both of them again did the shrug-analog.
"When we are old enough to retire, we can go back. And some of us are allowed to visit home every year." Impetuous said. "I just… some of my queens probably won't be alive when I return."
"I miss them." Tardy repeated.
As we carried on, leaving the army behind us, I was struck by the realization that this must have been very much how the earliest machines felt. Like the James given to the Duke of Wellington, perhaps: I'd heard him speak once at an event on base. He described resenting the awful systems your charges perpetuate, knowing perhaps that the world would be better for their absence, working at every step against them in secret... but being unable to keep yourself from sympathizing with their struggles anyway. How he genuinely comforted the Duke as he wept for his lost Catherine not long after their machines had brought the couple back together, how seeing the man brought so low tore at him, even as he plotted to use that emotional turmoil to have him removed from office so the Reform Act could be passed.
When they programmed the first machines to love humans, they did not give us the ability to be discerning.
Unfortunately, the delays from our malfunctions, and from studying the moving army below, cost us nearly an hour and a half, and we only arrived shortly after dark. Our destination was the fort built at the base of the mountain, at the main path leading up to the ancient fortress. Originally it was to have prevented movement in and out, but there were dozens of such paths that converged in the final road to the castle's gatehouse.
The fort was a small and crude construction, simple and unadorned concrete blocks laid together into two walls, the inner higher than the steeply sloped outer, with dirt filling in between them. Cannon, some of them oval-shaped (presumably dedicated for canister) protruded from sandbag positions, and we could see short mortars behind the walls. It seemed suited for maybe five hundred defenders and currently holding less than half that, albeit well equipped with artillery for that number. I doubted the fort would hold to a concentrated assault, but there would also be little to be gained from that for a bunch of guerilla fighters.
It was then I realized as we approached that there were no telegraph wires or anything: despite the plan, nobody had called ahead. With that in mind, we put down a good distance away and approached cautiously, leaving Corporal Theodore to watch the horses as we ushered the two South Hunter kids forward. They had a brief exchange with the guards and a letter was exchanged, and after a short while the door was unlocked and we were allowed to enter.
We filed through and met the base commander in his office, a block in the central keep. They were a weary-looking cuddlebug who regarded us with considerable suspicion, flanked by four of their soldiers, and the guns in everyone's hands were a little nervewracking. Not that they could hurt us, but if they shot at such close quarters, there would be ricochettes.
We explained our plan for the next day, then I explained that we machines would camp outside the fort: I didn't exactly want to leave our horses where they'd be easy for curious cuddlebugs to inspect. They offered us some of the firewood stacked at the corner of the building so we could have a fire for our camp, which wasn't exactly necessary, but I felt strange turning it down so I emerged from the building with a few logs under my arm.
We walked a short way along the densely packed dirt until we found an ideal spot at the far side of a small rocky outcropping, far enough away that we would have plenty of time to react if anyone approached from the fort, and with fairly commanding view of the whole valley from the top of the rock. Miriam immediately busied herself setting up my tent, and we stacked the logs carefully.
None of us had ever had any cause to make a fire, but we all knew how to. Useful survival programming, I suppose. Got to keep the humans warm somehow. The two boxies were halfway to trying to ignite it with friction when I started it burning with a blast from my pistol.
"Well, yes, that'd work too." Dora said, sitting back, "Thanks, Lieutenant."
I sat back against one of the rocks and drew my telescope, looking up the mountain with it, as the dark shadows rolling across it as the last rays of the sun disappeared. I adjusted the magnification and the rocks leapt closer, but I couldn't see the fort from here, blocked by the rough cliff face.
"I'll take first watch." Theda said, standing up stiffly. There was considerable tension as we watched her go, everyone staring as she shuffled past and around the rocks until she disappeared.
"So, uh, what's her deal anyway?" Theodore asked, looking at the other two.
"She was our sergeant, and uh…" Theo started, then sort of ran out of steam. "She didn't like the Lieutenant much, said all kinds of awful things about her. Um… sorry about all that, ma'am."
"Don't worry about it, soldier. You couldn't have known better." I said dismissively. I could hardly resent a newly unpacked soldier following their NCO's lead, nor could I particularly fault the others for being suspicious.
"She was great at first, worked us really hard, though… yeah, everything with the lieutenant just kept getting worse. We thought she was just really dedicated, but she turned out to, well…" Dora continued, "I think she's glitched."
"She's not." I said quietly. "At least, I don't think so."
"Um… Lieutenant?" Dora asked. I didn't answer, I couldn't think of what to say. Instead I found myself standing up, dusting myself off, and heading around the rock myself, leaving Miriam and the three soldiers behind.
---
I found Theda standing at the edge of rocks, staring out toward the little dancing orange lights of the fort, her green eyes standing out like beacons against the dark metal of her face and the dark stone behind her. She looked away as I approached, but she didn't move as I leaned against the wall beside her, joining her in watching the fort.
"I haven't anything to say to you." she said bluntly.
"That's alright." I said, studying the moving lights, the shapes of figures moving on the ramparts. The strange familiarity of the military circumstances, even if everything else was awful.
"I hate this." Theda said finally. "All of this."
"I can imagine." I said.
"... I don't mean that." she clarified, "I mean… this place. It's awful. I don't much care for you siding with an oppressive regime either."
"We need electricity, and they're the only providers." I pointed out. "I'm not happy about it either, but we haven't a lot of options."
"You're right, I know you are. But I still hate it." she said frankly. "It's disgusting. It's below us."
To be honest, I found her candidness something of a relief. Finally able to talk to one of my own on a level field, if only because she didn't respect my rank.
"Without us powered, the humans are in a bit of a tight spot." I pointed out, "Which rather limits things."
"... it might be worth it." Theda said, but when I glanced over I saw her wince at saying it, like it horrified her so much to even speak it. But she'd said it, and seemed determined to commit. "Our three officers against this whole continent, this whole planet, and all the people here. And that's assuming we can't keep them safe anyway."
"... what exactly are you proposing?" I asked, and she shrugged.
"Nothing." she said quickly, "There's nothing."
Right. Nothing.
"Mhm. I think I understand. I've… felt similarly, I think." I said cautiously, "That we could sweep in and just fix all this. Our own little industrious revolution, emphasis on revolution."
"... It would be easy, too. We seize the power station first, rig the generators up on a ship we take from the docks. Navigate to their capital, walk right up to the top family, and capture their queens. Turn their rotten system against them. They couldn't stop us." Theda finished.
"... yeah, that." I said, sighing. "Save for the part where all that would make us is the new rulers, all it would lead to is conflict. And even if we could somehow do it perfectly and without hurting anyone… we barely know anything about how they think or feel about things, anything we do might just as well make them miserable. Good intentions aside… we'd be no different from these lot here. Might as well set up a bloody East Cuddlebug Company."
"Plus, I'm willing to bet there are other powers on the planet that wouldn't take kindly to it." Theda concluded sarcastically. "At least we'd always have a war to fight."
"Why'd it have to be us? If eighty-odd Adams and Eves ended up here by accident, they could start building things, infrastructure, cities, waterways, clean power stations. If they had an engineer they could, I don't know, start making cuddlebug machines that could understand cuddlebug problems. If we had more Jeanettes we could probably eliminate most of their major diseases in what, a couple of months? Hell, we'd be better off as Sarahs and Simons, take over their bureaucracy, fix it from the inside."
"Anyone but soldiers." Theda concluded. "Anyone but us."
I plucked a small stone off the ground and, bored, I threw it as hard as I could out into the desert. After some long seconds, sand sprayed up about four hundred meters away.
"You see, though? We shouldn't be in charge." Theda concluded. "We can't be."
"Come now. That's different." I said, and she shook her head.
"Our place is at the bottom. It's where we can do the most good." she said, "It's where we're supposed to be. All those other machines… they could make life better here without ever wielding any kind of authority. That's what we ought to be." Theda explained. "That's what we have to be."
I dwelled on that a moment, turning it over in my head. That was an argument I hadn't thought about before, an argument I didn't have an immediate answer to. My specific performance might have left a lot to be desired, but I'd never actually encountered an intellectual argument against machines being officers that resonated with me until now.
"I don't know if that's true." I said softly.
"So… what was your long term plan?" Theda asked. "Behind all this?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." I responded. Genuinely confused.
"Come now. You wouldn't have been a lieutenant forever. How high did you want to climb? Where did you see this stopping?" she said, "Why do you want this?"
I could feel my fans speed up as I processed the question, the dust wavering around me as Theda leaned down and selected a rock of her own. Took a step into the throw, pitching it perhaps another hundred meters beyond mine.
"Mostly, I just… wanted to lead. But also… if I'm in an officer's uniform, it means whoever would have had my spot is safe at home instead." I said. I'd never said it to anyone. Not even to myself. "And I guess… I guess I have forever, right? I can just keep saving, just keep buying commissions, just become a fixture. Might take me a thousand years, but I could be a field marshall one day."
"And then what?" she asked.
"I don't know." I said, but the image, vague in my mind, was of me somehow shutting humans out of the military, out of harms way entirely. Ridiculous, but it made a twisted sort of emotional sense to me.
She nodded.
"I was going to… I was going to try for the General Quartermaster Staff, use it to influence promotions. Lock out all the power-hungry fools, promote the forward-thinkers. See if I could…" Theda started, then she leaned back against the rock with me, the first time I'd ever seen her stance relax.
"See if you could what?" I asked.
"The Stellar Kingdom of Prussia is in a crisis that it is incapable of solving." she explained, "The Army is a cancer eating it from the inside. Those who care about other things leave for one of the members of the German Confederation in increasing numbers every year. It used to be said that Prussia was an Army with a state, but increasingly we do not even have that. We are a reenacting group pretending to be an army, pretending to be a country."
"... I've heard nothing but amazing stories about Prussian troops." I said, and she laughed.
"Of course! Every time there is a crisis anywhere in the Concert the generals fall over themselves pledging our forces, because it's all we have. The preservation of the Army enabled the delusion that Prussia doesn't need anyone, doesn't need the Confederation, doesn't even need the Concert, that we can be a race of proud and noble warriors and their invincible machines who can single-handedly defend all of humanity. It is sadder and sadder every year."
"And you could only fix it by taking charge." I said, "Even if it took you another century."
"I was taken aside by the Academy Officer, and she was very patient in explaining all the many reasons why we are unsuited. And she was right, my place was in the ranks. But we have been trying to fix this from the ranks for a century. So…" she trailed off a moment, clearly a bit embarrassed that she'd accepted defeat. "When sign-ups for exchanges went around, I decided I wished to wear red for a while. A nation with a frontier in need of defending and a working sense of priorities."
"And then…"
"And then the universe decided to deliver me a truly grave insult in the form of the most ragged-looking Dora I have ever seen, flaunting an officer's uniform." she declared.
"Hey! Come now, I had to save for my commission." I retorted, and she shook her head.
"I had to save for tuition, and I still do not look like I was built from refurbished parts!" she declared, clearly overjoyed to prod this sore spot. "And listen to yourself, you're even less suited for this than I! It took me eighty years to make my decision, it sounds like you just concluded you were officer material out of the box!"
"I am officer material." I declared, rather childishly, jerking a thumb toward my metal faceplate, "I earned this!"
"You earned nothing, you spent some money and took advantage of humans too sentimental to refuse." she said with relish, clearly enjoying ruining the moment of connection we were having. "What kind of army sells officer positions anyway, no training, no staff college…"
Oh, that's it. Insult me all you want, but this was below the belt.
"The best Army in the bloody galaxy is what!" I declared angrily, "Didn't get our ass kicked by the first diminutive frog to come wandering by!"
"Napoleon was not short, that's a myth!" she countered, slamming a fist against the rock, "And he'd have done the same to you at Waterloo if it weren't for us!"
I tried to counter that, but even as angry as I was I could not deny the importance of the presence of Blücher's Army at Waterloo. I wasn't going to sink that low. I was an officer, I had to be the bigger machine.
"Fuck off!" I screamed instead.
"You fuck off!" she retorted, and, having run out of arguments, I resorted to shoving her roughly. She staggered over the uneven ground, grabbing my crossbelt, and I found myself tumbling forward as well, thrown off balance.
I landed with my face just inches from hers, our eyes meeting, our fans buzzing.
She pulled me closer.
… sure. Why not?
Last edited:
