Saga of the Sixteenth, Part I: Reveille

Saga of the Sixteenth

I got two rounds off, hitting the guard in the shoulder, and the fucking Beretta jammed.  Again.  That pistol was trying to kill me. Not for the first time, I cursed the fact that my place as my team's only Vindicare prevented me from carrying an M4/203.

I dove to the floor and rolled behind a desk, scrabbling for my combat knife.  I looked up just in time to see one of the security goons point an AK-47 at my squad leader, Freon, and unload.  One of the rifles was lying a few feet away, and I launched myself towards it.  Just as I scooped it up, the goon's head exploded, and my ears started ringing.  I looked up at Two-Hands, our CQB specialist, standing over me with an AK raised.  I scowled at my grinning squadmate, who pulled me upright and handed me the rifle.

"Here ya go."  She flicked blood off her visor.  "Shoots a little high."

"You always such a smartass, Two-Hands?"

"You always such a pussy, Pawn?"  Goddammit I hate that nickname.

"Hey, Rev, lay off.  It's her first run."  Linde Van Dyke, who we all called Freon because of her temperament when under fire, pulled her helmet off and shook out her short blue hair, then walked over to stand in front of the window, stepping carefully over the bodies.  The redhead beside me gave her a New York salute, but shut up.  "Now, Tanya.  What did we learn here?"

"That Syrian government officials have shittons of low-quality mooks in every fucking building with a decent line of sight to their offices."  I had retrieved my pistol and was working to clear the jam.  I gave it up with a sigh.  "And that my Beretta is worse than a fucking Nambu."

"HEY!  You hatin' on Berettas over there?"  Rev gave us a belligerent glare, hands resting on her holstered pistols.

Freon winced.  "Well, at least with Berettas we don't have to worry about the blast radius.  But yeah, get rid of the standard-issue shit ASAP."  She gestured at the Kalashnikov cradled in my arms.  "That right there is the best sidearm a sniper can have."  She spent a moment inspecting her armor, ensuring it hadn't been damaged by the doomed security officer.

Revecca "Two-Hands" Chang grinned.  "Yeah.  And thank fuck all these towelhead Syrian assholes carry so much ammo.  It's nice to cut loose for a change."

A burst of static came over my helmet radio, followed by my spotter's voice.  "Visual.  Target is leaving the office."  Sonja Zaitsev had a quiet, pleasant voice despite her heavy accent, and hearing her talk never failed to calm my nerves.

Freon snapped her helmet back into place.  "Alright, ladies, you heard Zero.  Ammo up and camo up.  Pawn, go ahead and set up by the window.  Make sure there's no direct sunlight on the barrel.  Rev, with me."

I acknowledged the order and stowed the AK, unpacking my rifle from its case.  The big Anzio 20mm may be a bit impractical for normal forces, but it works just fine for me.  It also doesn't leave anything for the medics to save, a point Jyuro stressed when he designated it - and me - for this op.

"One last thing, Tanya.  Abbadon has said she'll be personally keeping track of the developing situation here.  Don't miss."

Shit.  Warmaster Pavlovena was personally watching this? As in, was going to personally chew my ass out if I froze up again?

I nestled the butt closer against my armored shoulder and keyed my mic.  "Freon, I'm good to go."

"Good.  Ah, wait one."  She sounded distracted.  "We have a slight...complication."

Double shit.

"What kind of complication?"  I hoped my voice didn't give away how nervous I was.

Sonja cut in.  "The target isn't alone.  He's got some woman and a kid with him."

I found the target - a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard and thick glasses - on the other side of the crowded street.  Sure enough, a woman walked behind him, holding a little girl's hand.

Rev growled.  "The fuck is this, 'Bring Your Kid to Work Day?'  Who planned this?"

"That would be me."  A new voice cut into the channel, an amused, accentless alto we all recognized as belonging to the Warmaster - Sofiya Pavlovena, known outside the Officio as Abbadon.  "Is there a problem, Two-Hands?"

I could almost hear Rev grinding her teeth on the other end.  "Extra targets means complications.  Complications mean problems.  Problems mean dead Sparklies."

"An unfortunately unavoidable complication, Two-Hands.  The good Secretary takes his family to work with him every day - Intel thinks it's to ward off assassins."

Freon broke into the channel.  "Why weren't we briefed on this?"

"Because it isn't relevant.  The presence of a woman and child will not prevent you from carrying out your mission..."  She paused.  "Unless, of course, you're worried about missing so badly you hit them instead?"

My squad leader's voice remained admirably calm.  "I'm not the one holding the rifle, Warmaster.  Jyuro assigned us the newbie.  Pawn.  And it's not about the possibility of hitting them - you've seen her scores; Pawn could shoot the fuzz off a gnat's arse at 700 meters.  It's just that I'd rather not risk it."

"Well, then, let me put it differently."  Abbadon's voice was flat and matter-of-fact.  "Secretary al-Sharif dies today, one way or another.  The Prime Minister was very clear - he wants this done before the elections.  That means today.  I have a strike package inbound, in case your team is for whatever reason incapable of finishing the mission.  Weapons release in one minute."

Freon sounded outraged.  "You did this deliberately, didn't you?  You're testing Pawn."

The Warmaster laughed, a cold, humorless sound.  "Everyone gets tested, Linde.  You should know that.  If she won't kill for the Officio, she has no place in the Officio."

"But-"

"There are no buts, Linde.  Either she takes the shot, or everyone on that street dies when the strike package gets in range."

"I'll do it."  I had stayed quiet, tracking the target, listening to my squad leader's borderline insubordination.  Now, I resettled my rifle, and began a series of slow, deep breaths.

Freon's voice was very quiet.  "Tanya, you don't have to do this.  Let me take him out.  Hell, let Rev do it.  You don't have to kill him."

"I'm not killing him."  Breathe in.  "I'm removing a threat to peace."  Breathe out.  "And I'm saving the lives of everyone on that street." Breathe in.

Hold it.  Steady.

The recoil came as a surprise, just as it was supposed to.

Abbadon spoke quietly, almost reverently.  "Tanya Gabrielle Synclair has joined the Sixteenth Officio.  Long may she serve."

"Long may she serve."  My squad echoed their Warmaster's words, and my first mission as a Puella Magi ended.
"Squad Davin, return to the Hand of Vengeance for debriefing.  The Israeli Prime Minister has granted us permission to land an Osprey in the Golan Heights, in the Gamla Nature Reserve.  That's your transport out."

"Acknowledged, Warmaster.  We're moving now."  Freon sounded exhausted, and somewhat depressed.  "Pack up, ladies.  We're going home."