Anyway, short introduction to the novel. The setting is 1939, shortly after the Neuroi invasion of Karlsland (Germany) began, but the book focuses on a squadron of misfits and unwanted witches sent to Suomus (Finland). For comparison, the anime is set in 1944, in Britannia.
Characters
Spoiler! :
1. Anabuki Tomoko - The main character. An ace dogfighter from the Fuso Empire, she rose to fame after the initial Neuroi probing attack in the Fuso sea in 1937, where she shot down 7 enemy fighters. She was expecting to get deployed to the frontlines in Karlsland, but was ordered to Suomus instead. Needless to say, she's not happy about that.
2. Sakomizu Haruka - Also from the Fuso Empire, stationed in a naval air squadron.
3. Elizabeth Beurling - Number 1 trouble-making insubordinate member of the Britannian Air Force.
4. Katharine O'Hare - Hailing from Texas in the United States of Liberion. A real airheaded dunce.
5. Ursula Hartmann - From Karlsland, the twin sister to Erica Hartmann from the anime. The youngest in the squadron at 10 years of age, all she does is read. And tries to learn everything according to Karlsland doctrines.
6. Elma Leivonen - From Suomus. Nervous, timid and inexperienced, but tries her best. She's probably one of the more "normal" ones in the bunch.
2. Sakomizu Haruka - Also from the Fuso Empire, stationed in a naval air squadron.
3. Elizabeth Beurling - Number 1 trouble-making insubordinate member of the Britannian Air Force.
4. Katharine O'Hare - Hailing from Texas in the United States of Liberion. A real airheaded dunce.
5. Ursula Hartmann - From Karlsland, the twin sister to Erica Hartmann from the anime. The youngest in the squadron at 10 years of age, all she does is read. And tries to learn everything according to Karlsland doctrines.
6. Elma Leivonen - From Suomus. Nervous, timid and inexperienced, but tries her best. She's probably one of the more "normal" ones in the bunch.
First half of the prologue, translated
Spoiler! :
-= Prologue =-
“Hey, over there, isn’t that a Witch?”
The alpine trooper removed his goggles as he said that, and peered out from under his tousled hair. Below the large and heavy clouds, there was a small spot flying in those Northern European skies.
“That’s no bird. It’s way too fast.”
The trooper next to him muttered to himself. Behind the goggles used to prevent snow-burn, his eyes were those of a young man. Clearing his ears, he could hear the faint drone of a magic engine.
“I knew it, it’s a Witch! The mechanized air infantry! Heh, must be my lucky day! I wonder if she’s here patrolling as well. Hats off to her, working in this freezing cold!”
The two alpine troopers were stationed to the National Border Defense Regiment, on patrol along the border between Suomus and Neuroi territory.
Recently, these patrol rotations had become much more frequent. After waving to that distant spot in the sky, the two troopers turned back to their own problems, grumbling in a worried manner.
“Even those Air Force Witches are getting deployed, huh... I wonder, maybe that rumor is really true? That those damn Neuroi ‘monsters’ are gonna attack Suomus...”
The alpine trooper with the tousled hair frowned. He fished a cigarette from out of a pocket, and lit it with a match.
“They’re supposed to have their hands full with Karlsland already.”
The tousled hair alpineer answered, and exhaled a large cloud of smoke together with a frosty sigh. His answer seemed to be more a question for himself, rather than to serve as an actual answer.
“Who would do something as stupid as opening up another war front like that?”
After the end of the First Neuroi War in 1917, more than 20 years of silence had passed, when the ‘alien army’ known as the Neuroi suddenly began an invasion of Central Europe two months ago in September 1939. Ostmark, drunk from the peace it had settled into, was wiped out in one strike, and the Neuroi began a blitzkrieg invasion into Karlsland. Starting with the European countries, soon the entire world was trembling at the Neuroi assault. Currently, a hopeless defensive war was being fought along the Karlsland-Ostmark border.
The Neuroi invasion was ferocious, and in the opinion of many it was only a matter of time until Karlsland would be overrun.
Nations across the world have continued to send reinforcements, but up to now, nothing could be done to hold back the mighty Neuroi army.
The Neuroi were terrifying enemies.
They were not simply ‘powerful’ or anything else, there was another reason.
The other trooper, with a worried expression on his face, put that other reason into words.
“Opening up another war front...... normally, nobody would do something as stupid as that. But, those things aren’t human. We’ve got no idea what their thinking. Dammit, they’re not like us.”
The tousle-haired trooper threw down his cigarette. As it fell to the deeply packed snow, the cigarette went out with a fizzling sound.
The snowy field the two were standing in was on a river bank which ran along the country’s border, on a gently sloping hill. On the other side of the frozen river, was Neuroi territory...... or actually just land. They could not believe that the Neuroi even had the concept of ‘territory’. The troopers shivered as he looked at the overgrown forest further back. Long ago, that country was said to be the home of werewolf tribes. But... the current masters of that land were now known by the name of that country, they were the Neuroi.
TL note: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neuri
They shrouded the Neuroi territory in a noxious miasma, changing it into a barren uninhabitable land. And now, they seemed to be intent on spreading that miasma over the rest of Europe. No one knew their purpose in doing so.
“Shit... nobody wants to have their homeland covered in that poison...”
The tousle-haired trooper tried to cheer up his muttering comrade.
“Well, I’m sure the Witches’ll be able to do something about it.”
“Let’s hope so.”
The trooper gazed up into the sky. The spot from before was hidden by the bulky clouds hanging in the sky. He felt as if the ashen sky was hinting at the future of his homeland. His gaze remained on the sky for a long time, as prayer-like thoughts went through his mind.
Luutnantti (1st Lieutenant) Elma Leivonen, of the Suomus Air Force, was flying in the deep blue sky 8000 feet above the alpinists, her fine golden hair unique to Northern Europe fluttering about her head. That she was flying was easy to say, but her appearance, that of a young girl flying through the sky as if it were normal, was like that of a mythical Valkyrie.
Her legs were a pale white, like a slender column of snow. On those legs, a dilapidated FAROT manufactured magic engine was glowing. A magic engine...... a mechanical unit which converts the user’s magic energy, and makes flight possible.
Flying through the skies by magic... She was a mechanized air infantryman, a Witch.
“This is Skylark, this is Skylark. ‘Snow Woman,’ do you copy?”
Lt. Elma Leivonen called out over the throat-type radio extending up to her mouth. She had already repeated the same message who knows how many times, but call-sign “Snow Woman” at Kauhava Air Force Base had yet to respond.
Miserably, Lt. Elma spoke out in a tearful voice again.
“......Uuuu, this is made in Karlsland, the pinnacle of manufacturing, too... I wonder if it’s broken. It’s definitely because of this cold. This may be my homeland any way I look at it, but why does this country have to be so cold!”
Lt. Elma shivered. The ice- and snow-filled sky 8000 feet above Suomus was enveloped in freezing cold. Because she was cruising at a speed of 150 knots, the temperature she actually felt was unimaginable. Flying in one of the coldest places in the world, nearly naked with just a thin flight suit, the only reason it was even possible was magic, that power dwelling only in some women.
“‘Snow Woman’, please! Come in! Pleeeeease come in!”
Lt. Elma shouted into the throat microphone.
“This is ‘Snow Woman’. I can hear you.”
At last, an answer. It was a cold, female voice. There was no doubt that it was Control Officer Kapteeni (Captain) Hakkinen, also known as the Snow Woman. Her composure and coolness never failed to carry through, no matter what the situation. She was often called Snow Woman or other names, and that soon became her call-sign.
“Why didn’t you answer earlier… It’s so cold up here, I thought I was going to cry!”
“Call sign.”
Having that said to her, Lt. Elma suddenly remembered. In order to differentiate friend from foe, she had been lectured on guidelines for radio use that morning in the briefing room. I’m in for it now, she thought, as she cursed her own carelessness, and mumbled a line from one of Verlaine’s poems.
“The long moans of the violins of autumn.”
Then, she tapped her throat microphone twice. The signal they had agreed on for “sent.”
‘Snow Woman’ replied after that.
“The snowy winds of Suomus, the cold which sinks into the flesh.”
Uuuuuuuuuuuuuu, not like you’re feeling the cold.
Imagining ‘Snow Woman’ sitting haughtily in the command center, with the glow of several stoves burning merrily, Lt. Elma wanted to voice at least one of her complaints. But of course, she did not. She was too chicken-hearted for that.
“‘Snow Woman’ confirmed. Situation report to follow.”
Kapt. Hakkinen’s voice buzzed from the large wireless receiver over Lt. Elma’s ears.
“‘Skylark’ confirmed. You are clear to report. By the way, the stoves are not in use.”
“Eh? Ehhhh?”
“It’s obvious what you’re thinking, Luutnantti. I’m not going to be relaxing someplace warm while directing your flight out there.”
She’s a shrewd woman, Lt. Elma thought, as she began her report.
“Karelia region, point A-3. Heading north along the border. Altitude, 8000 feet, no abnormalities detected.”
“Are you making sure to check the ground as well?”
Lt. Elma stared down at the forest on the other side of the river on the border.
“Yes. So intently that not even a single fox would go undetected. Just like always.”
She couldn’t feel anything suspicious in the shadows of those snow-packed conifers. However… Lt. Elma could not help but feel uneasy about the stillness.
Across that river, it was no longer human land.
‘Neuroi’
Those mysterious beings, which had taken the name of the area where they first appeared. That was now a separate world, where they ruled unchecked.
“Um…Kapteeni Hakkinen.”
“‘Snow Woman’”
“Er, right, ‘Snow Woman’. Can I ask a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Will the Neuroi really attack us?”
“That’s not something I can know, nor is it something you should be thinking about.”
Silence.
Then, a sigh.
In a resigned tone of voice, Kapt. Hakkinen gave another answer.
“Well, if you want my personal opinion.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“They really will attack, won’t they.”
“Oh no…”
Lt. Elma felt the misery welling up again.
“They’re attacking Karlsland right now though, bunches and bunches of them too, so…”
“The ‘Neuroi’ are not human. We have no idea how many of them there are. And taking into account what we’ve learned from the few battles we’ve had, they have nothing against personal sacrifice, nor do they have any use for diplomacy. In other words, as long as we’re bordering them, sooner or later, they will certainly come.”
Kapt. Hakkinen stated that simply, in a voice without any concern in it whatsoever, as if she were saying that the neighbors had brought some food to share.
“Sigh… if such a frightening enemy comes, don’t you wonder what’s going to happen to all of us…”
“No matter what happens, we’re relying on all of you.”
“Oh no…” Lt. Elma said, as a weak note crept up in her voice again.
“There’s nothing we can do about it, you know. The only ones who can get near the Neuroi enveloped in that miasma are ‘Witches’ like you.”
That was how it was. The mechanized air infantry were seen as the trump cards against the Neuroi for that reason. Normal soldiers could never even get close to the Neuroi.
Lt. Elma sighed.
“But, it’s really worrying, with ‘just’ us around…”
“Exactly as you say, Luutnantti. That is a grave matter of concern for all of us.”
“There are only three squadrons of mechanized air infantry in the Suomus Air Force, you know? How are we supposed to protect this entire, long border with just that!”
The border between Suomus and Neuroi was many thousands of kilometers long from north to south. It was impossible with just three squadrons, no matter what.
“The government has sent requests to every nation requesting support. Requesting not only Strikers, but the Witches to operate them as well.”
Lt. Elma’s face lit up.
“R-Really!? That’s great news, isn’t it!”
It was good news indeed.
In order to defend against the Neuroi invasion, Suomus had previously received shipments of armed Strikers from nations around the world, but it was always up to themselves to find the personnel to operate them. Now… they were finally getting the ‘Witches’ to go with them as well.
“That’s right. Britannia, Karlsland, the United States of Liberion, the Fuso Empire…… it seems they’ll each be choosing some of their best mechanized air infantry to send.”
Those were all some of the most powerful nations in the world. Elite soldiers were going to come at long last.
They were definitely going to be a reliable bunch, soldiers who could stand against a thousand enemies by themselves!
“Yes! Suomus will be safe as well now!”
With her spirits raised a hundred-fold, Lt. Elma cheered, and spun around joyfully into a barrel roll. The vapor trail coming from her magic engine painted the ashen sky in faint, rainbow-colored splendor.
Maritime State Britannia.
On an island country separated from the rest of Europe by the Dover Strait, an argument which had become an everyday occurrence was taking place outside the gate to the Pembray Air Force Base.
At this late hour at night, with a shroud of darkness covering everything, a Brough Superior motorcycle was stopped in front of the gate, its idling engine puttering softly.
Riding on it was a girl with long, silver hair, which shimmered in the reflected light of the headlight. Although she could easily be described as good-looking, a certain weariness towards life could be seen in her eyes behind her goggles, and her lips were pressed into a thin, straight line. These two features gave her a hard-to-approach atmosphere, despite her good looks.
“Pilot Officer (2nd Lieutenant) Beurling! Curfew was ages ago!”
The young female sentry shifted the Enfield rifle in her hands, and challenged the girl in a troubled voice. However, the girl called P/O Beurling merely ignored the sentry’s protest.
She took off her goggles, and took a cigarette from out of the pack in her breast pocket and held it in her mouth. The packaging on the box showed a red circle over a green field. One of the packs from the Lend-Lease shipments from Liberion to Britannia, exhausted from the war against the Neuroi.
Still holding the cigarette in her mouth, P/O Beurling began searching through her pockets. However, as she realized that she did not have a lighter, she raised her hands as if giving up, and…
“A light.”
Which she demanded from the sentry in a bored voice.
“This is no time for a light! The Commandant is in an uproar! He’s said to throw you into the stockade today!”
P/O Beurling revved up her Brough Superior in reply, and spun it around in a sharp axle turn.
“W-Wait! Pilot Officer! Where are you going!”
“The pub.”
“The PUB!? Wait! Please, wait! Before you get sent to the stockade, the Commandant said to bring you to him! And please don’t try to resist arrest and escape! We’ve even been given permission to shoot to kill!”
“With this, how many times have you broken curfew? Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling.”
On the other side of the desk in the Commandant’s Office, the middle-aged Commandant, his Group Captain’s (Colonel) insignia glinting on his rank epaulettes, glared at the Britannian Air Force’s number one trouble-maker. His teeth were grinding on a pipe in his mouth hard enough for the mouthpiece to break. As for the trouble-maker… P/O Beurling began leisurely counting off the number of times on her fingers.
“Thirty-two times. Sir.”
P/O Beurling answered unconcernedly, her face set in a matter-of-fact look.
A loud crack rang out as the Commandant bit down hard on the mouthpiece of his pipe.
“That is the 32nd one.”
“What is?”
As the Commandant threw the mangled pipe into the wastebasket, he grumbled.
“The number of pipes I’ve chewed up in that manner.”
“Little wonder.”
“And what do you mean by that ‘Little wonder’?”
“No, I’m just talking about your pipes. It’s little wonder, if they were all cheap things like something you’d get at Harrow’s.”
The Commandant glared at P/O Beurling as if she were the enemy of parents everywhere.
“I’d rather be smoking some Dan Hills instead as well, if I could.”
He began looking for his pipe angrily. As he realized he had just thrown it away into the wastebasket, a blue vein on his temple began throbbing. In front of the Commandant in such a mood, P/O Beurling took out one of her own cigarettes.
“It’s just a cigarette though.”
Seeing the design on the package, the Commandant shook his head.
“As if I’ll ever smoke Liberion tobacco.”
“I like them.”
Without a bit of reservation, P/O Beurling placed the cigarette in her mouth, took a match from the Commandant’s desk, struck it, and lit her cigarette.
“And, it’s not just breaking curfew. You’ve broken so many military regulations, if you break any more we’ll lose count. No matter how important mechanized air infantry may be to the military, don’t you think you’re letting it get to your head a bit too much? Not everyone on base thinks of you as a Piccadilly actress, Pilot Officer.”
The Commandant continued glared at P/O Beurling while he said that, as she turned away and began puffing on her cigarette.
“I don’t believe that I’m being treated preferentially treated just because I’m a mechanized air infantryman. I will not follow orders or regulations that don’t make sense, and that just gets expressed in my attitude. Why there has to be an 8 o’clock curfew is beyond me. Isn’t it better to finish work, go have a drink and leave it at that? I do not believe that that would be something that would go well with our work in the daytime.”
The Commandant shook his head.
“Alright, I understand. It may not be satisfactory, but I understand. Then, what is your reason for refusing to upgrade your equipment? Everyone else in the regiment has already accepted the new Spitfire, and are well on the way with training on the new model, and yet you refuse to let go of that shabby Hurricane of yours. The maintenance crews are complaining, that solely because of one person, Pilot Officer, they have to go through huge troubles to get spare parts, just for you!”
“It isn’t certain that the new models are better.”
“Speed, turning radius, high altitude performance, the Spitfire is superior to your Hurricane in any of those. What do you have against it?”
“Perhaps if you wanted to form a flying circus, it might be a good Striker unit.”
P/O Beurling continued in her usual cool voice.
“However, the Neuroi dispatch bombers frequently. With a heavy bomber as an opponent, rather than turning rate or high-speed performance, what is more effective overall is the firing stability offered by the Hurricane. And furthermore… as a new model, the Spitfire is sure to have many problems. I’m putting my life on the line. I just want the legs I’m used to wearing, that is all.”
The Commandant’s lips trembled, as if he had something to say, but he moved on to the next topic.
“Understood. Actually, I don’t understand, but I understand your position at least. Then, next we have a bigger problem.”
“And what is that.”
“What is your reason for refusing your promotion to Flying Officer (1st Lieutenant)? Human Resources at Air Force Command are always an enigma, but well, that isn’t the problem here. What is the meaning of your refusal to be promoted.”
P/O Beurling shook her head.
“I am not fit to be a flight commander.”
The Commandant beamed his first smile of the day.
“What a coincidence. This is the first time I’ve agreed with your opinion. That’s exactly what I think as well. How well you use a Striker, or how accurate you are, none of that has anything to do with your aptitude to be a commander. There’s no doubt that those bunglers at Air Force Command have tunnel vision! However!”
Bam! He slammed the desk.
“An order is an order!”
“I cannot accept. I understand myself better than anyone else.”
Several seconds passed. As if he was giving up, the Commandant shook his head slowly, and took two sheets of paper from his desk. One had orders for promotion to Flying Officer. And the other…
“Choose.”
“Yes?”
P/O Beurling cocked her head to one side.
“Transfer, or be promoted. Choose one.”
“Transfer?”
“That’s right. And it’s not just a simple redeployment within our borders. There isn’t a single base in the Britannian Air Force that would accept you any more. There’s been a request from Suomus in Northern Europe for mechanized air infantry support. Our base will be sending one person.”
“Ahh.” P/O Beurling replied lifelessly.
“Is that even a choice? Cold as ice Suomus, marching in step with those foreigners, one two three four, things like that, I’m sure that’s something you would be even more unhappy with.”
A sneer spread across the Commandant’s face, like a hunter as he chased his prey into a corner.
“If you understand, then reconsider your position, and sign the Flying Officer orders here… oi, hey! Beurling!”
Grabbing the Suomus transfer orders and a pen at the same time, P/O Beurling scrawled her signature on the orders. The Commandant turned to face the Pilot Officer directly, with his hands extended like claws, a confused look on his face.
“Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling, orders to transfer understood. I will depart tomorrow.”
P/O Beurling returned the transfer orders to the Commandant, and snapped a sharp salute.
“Orders understood, what… god damn you…”
The Commandant shook in rage. Being threatened with the transfer orders to Suomus that nobody in their right mind would want, even while being force-fed the Flying Officer promotion, she had still managed to go completely against expectations. Just how rebellious could this silver-haired ‘witch’ be?
P/O Beurling backed out of the Commandant’s Office without another word.
“Oi! Stop right there! Where do you think you’re going!”
His face burning bright red, the Commandant shouted after P/O Beurling.
“Do as you will!”
“Hey, over there, isn’t that a Witch?”
The alpine trooper removed his goggles as he said that, and peered out from under his tousled hair. Below the large and heavy clouds, there was a small spot flying in those Northern European skies.
“That’s no bird. It’s way too fast.”
The trooper next to him muttered to himself. Behind the goggles used to prevent snow-burn, his eyes were those of a young man. Clearing his ears, he could hear the faint drone of a magic engine.
“I knew it, it’s a Witch! The mechanized air infantry! Heh, must be my lucky day! I wonder if she’s here patrolling as well. Hats off to her, working in this freezing cold!”
The two alpine troopers were stationed to the National Border Defense Regiment, on patrol along the border between Suomus and Neuroi territory.
Recently, these patrol rotations had become much more frequent. After waving to that distant spot in the sky, the two troopers turned back to their own problems, grumbling in a worried manner.
“Even those Air Force Witches are getting deployed, huh... I wonder, maybe that rumor is really true? That those damn Neuroi ‘monsters’ are gonna attack Suomus...”
The alpine trooper with the tousled hair frowned. He fished a cigarette from out of a pocket, and lit it with a match.
“They’re supposed to have their hands full with Karlsland already.”
The tousled hair alpineer answered, and exhaled a large cloud of smoke together with a frosty sigh. His answer seemed to be more a question for himself, rather than to serve as an actual answer.
“Who would do something as stupid as opening up another war front like that?”
After the end of the First Neuroi War in 1917, more than 20 years of silence had passed, when the ‘alien army’ known as the Neuroi suddenly began an invasion of Central Europe two months ago in September 1939. Ostmark, drunk from the peace it had settled into, was wiped out in one strike, and the Neuroi began a blitzkrieg invasion into Karlsland. Starting with the European countries, soon the entire world was trembling at the Neuroi assault. Currently, a hopeless defensive war was being fought along the Karlsland-Ostmark border.
The Neuroi invasion was ferocious, and in the opinion of many it was only a matter of time until Karlsland would be overrun.
Nations across the world have continued to send reinforcements, but up to now, nothing could be done to hold back the mighty Neuroi army.
The Neuroi were terrifying enemies.
They were not simply ‘powerful’ or anything else, there was another reason.
The other trooper, with a worried expression on his face, put that other reason into words.
“Opening up another war front...... normally, nobody would do something as stupid as that. But, those things aren’t human. We’ve got no idea what their thinking. Dammit, they’re not like us.”
The tousle-haired trooper threw down his cigarette. As it fell to the deeply packed snow, the cigarette went out with a fizzling sound.
The snowy field the two were standing in was on a river bank which ran along the country’s border, on a gently sloping hill. On the other side of the frozen river, was Neuroi territory...... or actually just land. They could not believe that the Neuroi even had the concept of ‘territory’. The troopers shivered as he looked at the overgrown forest further back. Long ago, that country was said to be the home of werewolf tribes. But... the current masters of that land were now known by the name of that country, they were the Neuroi.
TL note: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neuri
They shrouded the Neuroi territory in a noxious miasma, changing it into a barren uninhabitable land. And now, they seemed to be intent on spreading that miasma over the rest of Europe. No one knew their purpose in doing so.
“Shit... nobody wants to have their homeland covered in that poison...”
The tousle-haired trooper tried to cheer up his muttering comrade.
“Well, I’m sure the Witches’ll be able to do something about it.”
“Let’s hope so.”
The trooper gazed up into the sky. The spot from before was hidden by the bulky clouds hanging in the sky. He felt as if the ashen sky was hinting at the future of his homeland. His gaze remained on the sky for a long time, as prayer-like thoughts went through his mind.
Luutnantti (1st Lieutenant) Elma Leivonen, of the Suomus Air Force, was flying in the deep blue sky 8000 feet above the alpinists, her fine golden hair unique to Northern Europe fluttering about her head. That she was flying was easy to say, but her appearance, that of a young girl flying through the sky as if it were normal, was like that of a mythical Valkyrie.
Her legs were a pale white, like a slender column of snow. On those legs, a dilapidated FAROT manufactured magic engine was glowing. A magic engine...... a mechanical unit which converts the user’s magic energy, and makes flight possible.
Flying through the skies by magic... She was a mechanized air infantryman, a Witch.
“This is Skylark, this is Skylark. ‘Snow Woman,’ do you copy?”
Lt. Elma Leivonen called out over the throat-type radio extending up to her mouth. She had already repeated the same message who knows how many times, but call-sign “Snow Woman” at Kauhava Air Force Base had yet to respond.
Miserably, Lt. Elma spoke out in a tearful voice again.
“......Uuuu, this is made in Karlsland, the pinnacle of manufacturing, too... I wonder if it’s broken. It’s definitely because of this cold. This may be my homeland any way I look at it, but why does this country have to be so cold!”
Lt. Elma shivered. The ice- and snow-filled sky 8000 feet above Suomus was enveloped in freezing cold. Because she was cruising at a speed of 150 knots, the temperature she actually felt was unimaginable. Flying in one of the coldest places in the world, nearly naked with just a thin flight suit, the only reason it was even possible was magic, that power dwelling only in some women.
“‘Snow Woman’, please! Come in! Pleeeeease come in!”
Lt. Elma shouted into the throat microphone.
“This is ‘Snow Woman’. I can hear you.”
At last, an answer. It was a cold, female voice. There was no doubt that it was Control Officer Kapteeni (Captain) Hakkinen, also known as the Snow Woman. Her composure and coolness never failed to carry through, no matter what the situation. She was often called Snow Woman or other names, and that soon became her call-sign.
“Why didn’t you answer earlier… It’s so cold up here, I thought I was going to cry!”
“Call sign.”
Having that said to her, Lt. Elma suddenly remembered. In order to differentiate friend from foe, she had been lectured on guidelines for radio use that morning in the briefing room. I’m in for it now, she thought, as she cursed her own carelessness, and mumbled a line from one of Verlaine’s poems.
“The long moans of the violins of autumn.”
Then, she tapped her throat microphone twice. The signal they had agreed on for “sent.”
‘Snow Woman’ replied after that.
“The snowy winds of Suomus, the cold which sinks into the flesh.”
Uuuuuuuuuuuuuu, not like you’re feeling the cold.
Imagining ‘Snow Woman’ sitting haughtily in the command center, with the glow of several stoves burning merrily, Lt. Elma wanted to voice at least one of her complaints. But of course, she did not. She was too chicken-hearted for that.
“‘Snow Woman’ confirmed. Situation report to follow.”
Kapt. Hakkinen’s voice buzzed from the large wireless receiver over Lt. Elma’s ears.
“‘Skylark’ confirmed. You are clear to report. By the way, the stoves are not in use.”
“Eh? Ehhhh?”
“It’s obvious what you’re thinking, Luutnantti. I’m not going to be relaxing someplace warm while directing your flight out there.”
She’s a shrewd woman, Lt. Elma thought, as she began her report.
“Karelia region, point A-3. Heading north along the border. Altitude, 8000 feet, no abnormalities detected.”
“Are you making sure to check the ground as well?”
Lt. Elma stared down at the forest on the other side of the river on the border.
“Yes. So intently that not even a single fox would go undetected. Just like always.”
She couldn’t feel anything suspicious in the shadows of those snow-packed conifers. However… Lt. Elma could not help but feel uneasy about the stillness.
Across that river, it was no longer human land.
‘Neuroi’
Those mysterious beings, which had taken the name of the area where they first appeared. That was now a separate world, where they ruled unchecked.
“Um…Kapteeni Hakkinen.”
“‘Snow Woman’”
“Er, right, ‘Snow Woman’. Can I ask a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Will the Neuroi really attack us?”
“That’s not something I can know, nor is it something you should be thinking about.”
Silence.
Then, a sigh.
In a resigned tone of voice, Kapt. Hakkinen gave another answer.
“Well, if you want my personal opinion.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“They really will attack, won’t they.”
“Oh no…”
Lt. Elma felt the misery welling up again.
“They’re attacking Karlsland right now though, bunches and bunches of them too, so…”
“The ‘Neuroi’ are not human. We have no idea how many of them there are. And taking into account what we’ve learned from the few battles we’ve had, they have nothing against personal sacrifice, nor do they have any use for diplomacy. In other words, as long as we’re bordering them, sooner or later, they will certainly come.”
Kapt. Hakkinen stated that simply, in a voice without any concern in it whatsoever, as if she were saying that the neighbors had brought some food to share.
“Sigh… if such a frightening enemy comes, don’t you wonder what’s going to happen to all of us…”
“No matter what happens, we’re relying on all of you.”
“Oh no…” Lt. Elma said, as a weak note crept up in her voice again.
“There’s nothing we can do about it, you know. The only ones who can get near the Neuroi enveloped in that miasma are ‘Witches’ like you.”
That was how it was. The mechanized air infantry were seen as the trump cards against the Neuroi for that reason. Normal soldiers could never even get close to the Neuroi.
Lt. Elma sighed.
“But, it’s really worrying, with ‘just’ us around…”
“Exactly as you say, Luutnantti. That is a grave matter of concern for all of us.”
“There are only three squadrons of mechanized air infantry in the Suomus Air Force, you know? How are we supposed to protect this entire, long border with just that!”
The border between Suomus and Neuroi was many thousands of kilometers long from north to south. It was impossible with just three squadrons, no matter what.
“The government has sent requests to every nation requesting support. Requesting not only Strikers, but the Witches to operate them as well.”
Lt. Elma’s face lit up.
“R-Really!? That’s great news, isn’t it!”
It was good news indeed.
In order to defend against the Neuroi invasion, Suomus had previously received shipments of armed Strikers from nations around the world, but it was always up to themselves to find the personnel to operate them. Now… they were finally getting the ‘Witches’ to go with them as well.
“That’s right. Britannia, Karlsland, the United States of Liberion, the Fuso Empire…… it seems they’ll each be choosing some of their best mechanized air infantry to send.”
Those were all some of the most powerful nations in the world. Elite soldiers were going to come at long last.
They were definitely going to be a reliable bunch, soldiers who could stand against a thousand enemies by themselves!
“Yes! Suomus will be safe as well now!”
With her spirits raised a hundred-fold, Lt. Elma cheered, and spun around joyfully into a barrel roll. The vapor trail coming from her magic engine painted the ashen sky in faint, rainbow-colored splendor.
Maritime State Britannia.
On an island country separated from the rest of Europe by the Dover Strait, an argument which had become an everyday occurrence was taking place outside the gate to the Pembray Air Force Base.
At this late hour at night, with a shroud of darkness covering everything, a Brough Superior motorcycle was stopped in front of the gate, its idling engine puttering softly.
Riding on it was a girl with long, silver hair, which shimmered in the reflected light of the headlight. Although she could easily be described as good-looking, a certain weariness towards life could be seen in her eyes behind her goggles, and her lips were pressed into a thin, straight line. These two features gave her a hard-to-approach atmosphere, despite her good looks.
“Pilot Officer (2nd Lieutenant) Beurling! Curfew was ages ago!”
The young female sentry shifted the Enfield rifle in her hands, and challenged the girl in a troubled voice. However, the girl called P/O Beurling merely ignored the sentry’s protest.
She took off her goggles, and took a cigarette from out of the pack in her breast pocket and held it in her mouth. The packaging on the box showed a red circle over a green field. One of the packs from the Lend-Lease shipments from Liberion to Britannia, exhausted from the war against the Neuroi.
Still holding the cigarette in her mouth, P/O Beurling began searching through her pockets. However, as she realized that she did not have a lighter, she raised her hands as if giving up, and…
“A light.”
Which she demanded from the sentry in a bored voice.
“This is no time for a light! The Commandant is in an uproar! He’s said to throw you into the stockade today!”
P/O Beurling revved up her Brough Superior in reply, and spun it around in a sharp axle turn.
“W-Wait! Pilot Officer! Where are you going!”
“The pub.”
“The PUB!? Wait! Please, wait! Before you get sent to the stockade, the Commandant said to bring you to him! And please don’t try to resist arrest and escape! We’ve even been given permission to shoot to kill!”
“With this, how many times have you broken curfew? Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling.”
On the other side of the desk in the Commandant’s Office, the middle-aged Commandant, his Group Captain’s (Colonel) insignia glinting on his rank epaulettes, glared at the Britannian Air Force’s number one trouble-maker. His teeth were grinding on a pipe in his mouth hard enough for the mouthpiece to break. As for the trouble-maker… P/O Beurling began leisurely counting off the number of times on her fingers.
“Thirty-two times. Sir.”
P/O Beurling answered unconcernedly, her face set in a matter-of-fact look.
A loud crack rang out as the Commandant bit down hard on the mouthpiece of his pipe.
“That is the 32nd one.”
“What is?”
As the Commandant threw the mangled pipe into the wastebasket, he grumbled.
“The number of pipes I’ve chewed up in that manner.”
“Little wonder.”
“And what do you mean by that ‘Little wonder’?”
“No, I’m just talking about your pipes. It’s little wonder, if they were all cheap things like something you’d get at Harrow’s.”
The Commandant glared at P/O Beurling as if she were the enemy of parents everywhere.
“I’d rather be smoking some Dan Hills instead as well, if I could.”
He began looking for his pipe angrily. As he realized he had just thrown it away into the wastebasket, a blue vein on his temple began throbbing. In front of the Commandant in such a mood, P/O Beurling took out one of her own cigarettes.
“It’s just a cigarette though.”
Seeing the design on the package, the Commandant shook his head.
“As if I’ll ever smoke Liberion tobacco.”
“I like them.”
Without a bit of reservation, P/O Beurling placed the cigarette in her mouth, took a match from the Commandant’s desk, struck it, and lit her cigarette.
“And, it’s not just breaking curfew. You’ve broken so many military regulations, if you break any more we’ll lose count. No matter how important mechanized air infantry may be to the military, don’t you think you’re letting it get to your head a bit too much? Not everyone on base thinks of you as a Piccadilly actress, Pilot Officer.”
The Commandant continued glared at P/O Beurling while he said that, as she turned away and began puffing on her cigarette.
“I don’t believe that I’m being treated preferentially treated just because I’m a mechanized air infantryman. I will not follow orders or regulations that don’t make sense, and that just gets expressed in my attitude. Why there has to be an 8 o’clock curfew is beyond me. Isn’t it better to finish work, go have a drink and leave it at that? I do not believe that that would be something that would go well with our work in the daytime.”
The Commandant shook his head.
“Alright, I understand. It may not be satisfactory, but I understand. Then, what is your reason for refusing to upgrade your equipment? Everyone else in the regiment has already accepted the new Spitfire, and are well on the way with training on the new model, and yet you refuse to let go of that shabby Hurricane of yours. The maintenance crews are complaining, that solely because of one person, Pilot Officer, they have to go through huge troubles to get spare parts, just for you!”
“It isn’t certain that the new models are better.”
“Speed, turning radius, high altitude performance, the Spitfire is superior to your Hurricane in any of those. What do you have against it?”
“Perhaps if you wanted to form a flying circus, it might be a good Striker unit.”
P/O Beurling continued in her usual cool voice.
“However, the Neuroi dispatch bombers frequently. With a heavy bomber as an opponent, rather than turning rate or high-speed performance, what is more effective overall is the firing stability offered by the Hurricane. And furthermore… as a new model, the Spitfire is sure to have many problems. I’m putting my life on the line. I just want the legs I’m used to wearing, that is all.”
The Commandant’s lips trembled, as if he had something to say, but he moved on to the next topic.
“Understood. Actually, I don’t understand, but I understand your position at least. Then, next we have a bigger problem.”
“And what is that.”
“What is your reason for refusing your promotion to Flying Officer (1st Lieutenant)? Human Resources at Air Force Command are always an enigma, but well, that isn’t the problem here. What is the meaning of your refusal to be promoted.”
P/O Beurling shook her head.
“I am not fit to be a flight commander.”
The Commandant beamed his first smile of the day.
“What a coincidence. This is the first time I’ve agreed with your opinion. That’s exactly what I think as well. How well you use a Striker, or how accurate you are, none of that has anything to do with your aptitude to be a commander. There’s no doubt that those bunglers at Air Force Command have tunnel vision! However!”
Bam! He slammed the desk.
“An order is an order!”
“I cannot accept. I understand myself better than anyone else.”
Several seconds passed. As if he was giving up, the Commandant shook his head slowly, and took two sheets of paper from his desk. One had orders for promotion to Flying Officer. And the other…
“Choose.”
“Yes?”
P/O Beurling cocked her head to one side.
“Transfer, or be promoted. Choose one.”
“Transfer?”
“That’s right. And it’s not just a simple redeployment within our borders. There isn’t a single base in the Britannian Air Force that would accept you any more. There’s been a request from Suomus in Northern Europe for mechanized air infantry support. Our base will be sending one person.”
“Ahh.” P/O Beurling replied lifelessly.
“Is that even a choice? Cold as ice Suomus, marching in step with those foreigners, one two three four, things like that, I’m sure that’s something you would be even more unhappy with.”
A sneer spread across the Commandant’s face, like a hunter as he chased his prey into a corner.
“If you understand, then reconsider your position, and sign the Flying Officer orders here… oi, hey! Beurling!”
Grabbing the Suomus transfer orders and a pen at the same time, P/O Beurling scrawled her signature on the orders. The Commandant turned to face the Pilot Officer directly, with his hands extended like claws, a confused look on his face.
“Pilot Officer Elizabeth Beurling, orders to transfer understood. I will depart tomorrow.”
P/O Beurling returned the transfer orders to the Commandant, and snapped a sharp salute.
“Orders understood, what… god damn you…”
The Commandant shook in rage. Being threatened with the transfer orders to Suomus that nobody in their right mind would want, even while being force-fed the Flying Officer promotion, she had still managed to go completely against expectations. Just how rebellious could this silver-haired ‘witch’ be?
P/O Beurling backed out of the Commandant’s Office without another word.
“Oi! Stop right there! Where do you think you’re going!”
His face burning bright red, the Commandant shouted after P/O Beurling.
“Do as you will!”
Anyway, I'll almost certainly be translating this, so there's little worry about finding a translator. Any interest in the series, or has the anime already given the series a bad enough rep that nobody'll do anything but say lol pantsu?
So far I've translated about 18 pages IIRC, out of a total of around 200 (in one day).
