Chapter 2: Einhemt

The mock battle between Squad E and Squad F had begun about an hour ago. Squad E had captured the base 5 minutes ago with a concentrated push into the center of the town, leaving the flanks of the town totally exposed to Squad F. Noticing this, Minerva ordered a push on both flanks of the town, on the east with the Glory and it's small detachment, and with the remainder of the Squad to the west. The Glory rumbled down the main road of Einhemt almost unopposed, taking only token fire from some of Squad E's units at the end of the road, before it cut a sharp right between two buildings and crashed through a wooden barricade, getting itself in a perfect firing position to contest the base. It's commander, Ronald Albee, ordered the gun to maximum elevation and prepared to fire it's 75mm mortar into the base to clear it when an exasperated radio message from the Glory's support detachment came in that the Hafen had been deployed to the East, against what Minerva was suspecting. This was the worst news. The Glory had no choice but to continue into the central square of the town, lest it take a shot through the radiator once the Hafen caught up. Ronald sighed and ordered the driver ahead full speed. The roaring engine of the Glory was briefly broken by a slight fall over a ledge into the cauldron of fire at the center of the town. An Anti-Tank Lancer of Squad E, Britanny, had been waiting for this moment. At point blank range, she pointed her lance at the Glory and fired, the dummy round slamming directly into the Glory's left side drivewheel.

 Based on the rules of the battle, the tracks were to be considered broken until an engineer could get to the tank. Ronald just now realised that this was what Squad E had wanted all along. The Hafen turned into the gap between the buildings, and using it's superior gun depression, fired a 76mm rubber round directly into the Glory's radiator. That was it for the Glory, Ronald thought. Had that been a real round, they'd all be dead. Ronald raised the white flag over the Glory to signify it out of action.

On the west side of the town, things were going much better for Squad F. In the small backstreets they were engaged in numerous smaller gunfights with members of Squad E. Using the intelligence gathered by her trusted scout, Christel, Minerva knew the exact position of most of Squad E's remaining assets. Just around the building's corner at the base of the intersection, there was two units of Squad E, Lily and Vancey, both deployed in defensive positions. Minerva had set up a move to attack them from both sides at once, from the left and right, making it almost impossible for them to coherently fire back. As she gave the order to attack, the units rushed around the corner, and Minerva was struck. Not by a rubber round, like she had expected, but by a sharp, painful shrill in her head. She couldn't do anything, her body felt frozen. The pain was unbearable as it felt like her brain was being torn out of her skull. She dropped her rifle to the floor and winced. As she closed her eyes in pain, she could hear the faint musings of a voice in her head. It was a voice of a mature woman, but she had no idea who it belonged to or why she was hearing it. She couldn't make out much of the words the voice was saying, it was all broken and jumbled, it sounded more like incoherent babble than actual words. Then, almost as soon as it arrived, it left. Her body felt normal again. She had no clue what had just happened, but she tried not to think too heavily about it. Picking up her rifle, she joined in the offensive, hoping that none of her Squad had noticed her little episode, thankfully, they were too busy carrying out her orders.

 As the left side of the pincer raced around the corner, instinctively Lily turned around and fired off a short burst from her SMG before being hit directly in the back of the head by a round from the right side, and Vancey was too drunk to really fire anywhere competently, spraying rubber rounds all over the place. It was well known that Vancey never really "aimed" at anything, more fired in the general direction and tried to just saturate the area with bullets. As Lily fell over when the round hit her with a distinct, almost comical bonk sound, Vancey was likewise hit by a rubber round from the other side, falling over. Although neither Squad F or Lily could work out if it was because she got hit, or that she was just so drunk she'd lost her footing. As she hit the floor, she begun to slur out some words again, lending credence to the latter rather than the former.
"Wehr ish Rahz...? Cahn't leave a ghirl thu die likh thish... Hic."
Lily merely responded that they were firing rubber rounds, and it would be incredibly unfortunate if anyone would die from that, unless they were cursed. Vancey just rolled around on the floor, drunk as ever. With the perimeter clear, Minerva ordered the Squad to move forward into the central square. By now, they only had about 15 minutes left to capture the base. The remainder of the Glory's detachment in the west was quickly swept up by the Hafen's mortar and machine gun, leaving Minerva's plan for a pincer attack on the base in tatters. Instead, she just decided to rush the base and hoped for the best. It wasn't a fantastic plan, but they were running out of time.
As members of Squad F appeared from every backstreet on the east side of the busy central square, the distinct and unmistakable crack of the LF Wasp Sniper Rifle could be heard all across the battlefield, as members of Squad F were hit by high velocity dummy rounds advancing. Only about 8 of them managed to huddle up behind the fountain in the very middle of the square, shielding them somewhat from the Sniper fire. Minerva looked up through her goggles as she poked around the fountain to see Kai Schulen, Squad E's best Sniper, positioned perfectly on the top of the clock tower, gripping her rifle in hand, staring down the iron sights, no doubt she had her sights on the cluster of Squad F members.

Minerva was put into a difficult situation, if she ordered a direct assault they'd be prey for Squad E's snipers, but if they simply sat here, the Hafen would catch up from behind and wipe them all out with a mortar round. She held position for a few seconds before a rumble that sounded like thunder roared from behind the buildings. It was the Hafen, it's barrel poking around the corner when suddenly, an absolute hail of mortar rounds hailed down from the sky, splashing down all around Squad F. Minerva was shocked, it was a near perfect move, the loud sounds of Squad E's mortars were perfectly hidden by the sound of the Hafen's engine. Based on the virtual splash range of the mortar rounds, the last remaining members of Squad F were knocked out, marking the end of the mock battle in Squad E's victory. Minerva sighed and begun her walk to the base to congratulate the victor and her rival, Claude Wallace.

 Claude arrived shortly after Minerva did. In honorable fashion, Minerva extended her arm to Claude and they both shook hands. While they appeared on the surface to be good sports, the animosity between them was well known. After sharing the handshake Minerva walked down the central square gazing at the various civilians. They still appeared to be indignant about the occupation, Minerva kept her rifle loaded and ready just in case anything did happen. The town seemed even more ready to rebel than it did just the day before. The Anti-Federation graffiti was getting worse, as evidenced by the sheer amount of it plastered all over the various walls and murals of the town. Knowing an uprising about to happen when she saw one, Minerva took a detour to the Federation's makeshift HQ up in the North of town, a journey that took her about 10 minutes, and gave her all the sights and sounds of the town. When walking up to the HQ, she noticed that several citizens of the town had taken it upon themselves to burn the Federation flag. She thought it was ridiculous, the Federation was democratic and upheld the rights of it's citizens, unlike the Empire. Knocking on the door of the HQ and announcing her presence, she swung open the ornate wooden doors of the HQ to find the Commander of the occupational forces sitting at his desk, paper in hand.

 Minerva took this opportunity to grill the Commander on the fact he'd just sat there with a rebellion just waiting to happen. He said nothing and continued to read his paper. Frustrated, Minerva yelled at the Commander that a rebellion could lead to absolute chaos and knock-on effects to Northern Cross. Finally, it appears he noticed, lowering his paper, taking one look at Minerva before gracing her with a platitude that he'd get on it, and that was that. Even more frustrated than she was when she stepped into the building, Minerva merely sighed and stepped back out of the HQ, getting the impression that the Commander was incompetent. With the sun going down, Minerva thought it high time to return to the camp. Walking back down the streets she'd came up to the HQ on, she kept her rifle even closer to her chest than before, when it happened again. The shrill in her head returned. Like before, it paralyzed her on the spot, like a chill creeping up her spine. She could barely move. Gripping her head and dropping to the floor, her stomach churned as the shrill faded into an almost legible voice.

"West...If...Save...Her..." It said, as Minerva felt her stomach turn over itself once again. Then, just like before, the pain disappeared without a trace. Minerva was confused. Had she gone mad? Instinctively, she grabbed her water bottle and drank from it's ice cold contents without any degree of grace or military conduct. She had no idea what the voice was, where it was coming from and why. With it fading and the pain going away rapidly, Minerva pulled herself up and began her stroll back to the camp once again.

Her walk was uneventful, but she couldn't argue that she wasn't in the slightest bit afraid. She could tell something was going to happen in the town, and that she could only hope that the occupational forces could handle it. Some 15 minutes later, she passed through the checkpoint back onto the dirt roads leading up to the camp. She stopped for a moment at the crest of a hill to look over the town. In the distance, she could see a long string of defensive fortifications. The Siegval Line. She knew that the operation to take the line from enemy hands would begin shortly, the bloodiest and final battle of Operation Northern Cross. If the Federation could break through here, there was nothing stopping the invasion force from reaching the capital. She had hope. If they broke through here, maybe the war would be over next month. Maybe in a month's time they'd be lifting the Federation's banner over the Imperial Senate building in Schwartzgrad. Maybe that was a pipe dream, but it kept her going.

 Turning around to look at the moon reflected off a small pond by a tree on the hill, she noticed someone. Claude. What was he doing out this late? He should be back at the camp. Of course, if Minerva asked him that, Claude would ask the same of Minerva. For once Claude seemed geniunely perplexed. He was sitting by the bank of the pond, messing around with what appeared to be a small white flower.  Minerva normally wouldn't give this sort of thing any heed, but this time for some reason she also felt introspective. She saundered over to the pond and sat next to Claude.

"Oh. Hey, Minerva. I've been thinking..." Claude spoke, skimming a small stone across the pond's surface.

"About?" Minerva responded, taking a look at the flower in his hand. Then it became obvious. It was a Lion's Paw. There's a tradition in Gallia that if you give a Lion's Paw to someone you like, you'll be blessed by the Valkyrur to fall in love. It was a ridiculous old folk tale, but clearly Claude had something in mind.

"A lot of things, Minerva. About Riley... About the Federation, the Empire, and this war in general. It's all so much to take in. Riley and I... We've been friends for life, but do I think we should be more than that?" Claude threw another skimming stone across the pond, watching as its ripples cascaded out to the edge.

"This is a Battlefield, Claude. There's no time for love here." Minerva responded, hoping Claude was just having one of his mopey moments.

"That's not true... Minerva. Look at Christel. You're so caught up in your "mission" and "duty" to see that she truly does care for you. Maybe Riley and I are the same. And..." Claude continued before being snapped at by Minerva, she'd heard enough of his emotional prattle.

"Pull yourself together Claude! This is a war, not a soap opera!" Her voice rife with indignation.

"I get it Minerva! War means blood! War means death! Believe me... I've seen enough death to last a lifetime... But... Are we really in the right here?"

"Claude... You forget who started this war in the first place."

"Well yes... But... Those Imperials... They have families, friends, loved ones. It's just..."

"Spare me your idealistic bullshit, Claude. The Imperials are the monsters, not us." Minerva said angrily, getting up and storming off down the road. What she said and what she actually felt were two different things, though. To a degree, she agreed with Claude. The indignity of the occupation was self-evident, and Minerva was more than well versed in the Federation's more shady dealings. She simply chalked it down to Realpolitik, snarling and furrowing her brow at the concept of Claude's idealism. Claude's comment about family cut Minerva particularly sharp, she had no idea who her family was. She didn't even remember who her parents were, and she couldn't explain why. She remembers growing up in a large stately house, surrounded by maids and servants, and that she's the heir to the affluent Victor family, but nothing else. Why? There were just too many unanswered questions for one night. By now, the moon had risen high into the sky. It was late.

Minerva rushed back to her tent, hoping that the Commander of the base wouldn't notice she was so late returning. Unzipping the front and hastily climbing in, she zipped the tarp "door" back up and threw herself onto the makeshift bed in the corner of the room. She threw her rifle down and reflected on today. As she did, she felt her hands grip with anger. Why? Why couldn't she match him? Why couldn't she beat him? How can Claude be so much better than her? The thoughts raced through her mind and she got up, walked over to her small desk and, crying a little, slammed her hand down on the desk.

She decided to get some sleep, after all, the Siegval Operation was tomorrow, with barely any time to rest, and she needed to be in her best form. Taking her rifle off her shoulder by its strap and placing it on the desk, followed by her glasses and then beginning to undress herself.
First she slid down the zipper on the front of her uniform and took off her jacket, placing it underneath her rifle, followed by the underlayer of body armor that had become a Federation standard. Admittedly, it wouldn't stop a bullet, but it was great at catching shrapnel. Without her jacket and armor on, her body felt much lighter. Then, she removed her top and finally, her skirt before placing them neatly under her rifle. After she'd finished undressing, she climbed into the sheer mass of colored sheets that passed for a makeshift bed, and pulled one of them over her eyes. It looked a little childish, but it was how she'd always slept. Minerva fell asleep in seconds. Soon, a dream sprung in her mind.

 Snow? That was odd. It appeared she was walking through the woods with her Squad in the snow, and there was a small break in the trees just a few paces ahead. As she stepped onwards, guided by an unseen force, she reached the break in the woods and... Horror struck.

There was trails of blood everywhere. The white snow tainted various shades of red as mangled and mutilated corpses of Federation soldiers lay in front of her. Unable to stop her unconscious desire, she tepidly creeped up to one of the bodies. She couldn't make out the letter on the jacket as it had been torn off. She gulped, and rolled the body over. She screamed in shock. This was someone she knew. Someone she cared about. Someone from Squad F. Instinctively, she began to run around the break in the woods to check if any of them were still alive. Not one.

Then, what appeared to be a sole survivor wandered out from behind the trees, limping as her leg bled and her eyes losing light. It was Christel. Minerva scurried to her side as soon as she could, Christel collapsing into the snow, bleeding out, filling the ground below her with a stain of red. Minerva grabbed Christel and begun to shake her, trying to get her to come around. She was too late. Christel was on her last few breaths. She managed only to eek out some final words.

"Minerva... I mean... Commander... It's been... An honor... Hrk... Please... Promise me... Hrk... You'll... End this war... Fairly..." Christel's final words leaked into Minerva's ears as she broke into tears shaking Christel when it happened. Christel's head dropped down onto the snow, followed by her arms and legs going totally limp. Minerva continued to shake her, telling her to wake up.

"No...! Christel! Come back! Christel! No... No... Nooooo!" She awoke bolt upright. It was just a dream. Then, as she sat upright, reaching for her flask of water, her body was covered in cold sweat, her heart pounding in her chest. Then, she heard a familiar voice from outside her tent.

"Commander? Are you awake? It's Christel. Can I come in?" Just hearing her voice was a sigh of relief for Minerva.
"Sure, come in."

Christel came in with a glass of water, placing it on Minerva's desk. Almost without warning, Minerva placed her hand onto Christel's chest. She could feel her heartbeat. Christel had noticed the cold sweat on Minerva and asked if she had a bad dream. She was almost psychic when it came to Minerva. With a couple of hours before the Squads had to meet up for the Siegval Operation, Minerva felt she should spend the morning productively. Just as she turned to get out of bed, the cold shrill returned, more painful than ever. It stopped Minerva in her tracks. Strangely, this time she could hear the voice clearly, the voice of a mature woman, it seemed to have quite an echo, but it could be heard clearly.

"Minerva. Go west. Go west if you want to save her." The voice cried out. Minerva didn't know how the voice knew about her dream, but she was for some reason inclined to listen to it. Determined, she vowed she'd save Christel from that horrible fate she saw in her dream. Maybe it was all just that, her mind playing tricks, but Minerva vowed to save her all the same.

Getting up out of her bed and taking her normal morning stroll around the camp's perimeter before heading straight towards the Camp's breakfast bar. As she did, she walked past hundreds of Federation tanks, soldiers and other equipment. It was only appropriate for what was going to be the final battle of the war. As she arrived, the tables seemed mysteriously empty. She sat down with her breakfast when they arrived. Claude and his entourage, consisting of Riley and Raz. Great, Minerva thought. Raz was as boisterous and loud as ever. He was talking about women, as usual.

"Hey Claude! Riley or Minerva, which one is your type?" He gagged, trying to illicit a response from either of the girls. Minerva and Riley both locked eyes in a way that signalled they both wasn't in the mood for this. Minerva gave Riley a simple nod before the right hand of Riley came thundering down onto Raz's face.

"Ow...! That was a serious question! Sheesh! Save those claws for the Imps, ladies...!"

Claude, not one to disappoint anyone, much less Raz, gave a basic cookie cutter answer that he liked Riley as a childhood friend and Minerva as a rival. Raz was unsatisfied with that answer, wanting something a bit more juicy to stir up some argument. The three of them sat down on the table next to Minerva with their food, Raz demonstrating once more his lack of any and all table manners. Riley for her part had "experimented" with adding extra ingredients to the food, asking Claude to try some.

 So he did. He ate some of Riley's new "Mystery Dish" and almost immediately was hit by the fiery temper of a forest wildfire as his eyes begun to water from the sheer spice. He gasped for air and grabbed his water, drinking it down at a pace of desperation. Once the inferno in his mouth had finally subsided, Riley merely laughed and stated she may have added too much spice to it. Raz, for his part, agreed, in a way only Raz could.

"No shit, detective! What the hell did you put in that?"

"Umm... A couple spoons of paste, ground Garlic, and three teaspoons of chilli powder..." Riley responded, proving that she wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the box.

Claude merely sat there, wide eyed after his experience. Needless to say, he would be more careful around Riley's "ideas" in future. It was a cacophony of idiocy, but Minerva admired their innocence. Finishing her food, she returned her plate and glass to the breakfast bar and looked at the time. Strangely, it had taken nearly two hours for her to get dressed, go for her walk around the camp, before going to the breakfast bar for her breakfast, with about 20 minutes before the Squads were due to form up for briefing, she decided now would be a good time to head on over to the East side of the camp for briefing. She could only think about Christel at this point, her dream, and how she hoped they made it back in one piece after coming so far.