Duties of the National Defense Officer Corps: Episode 1
The time Kaldir had squandered on sex sessions turned into a precious opportunity for Secretary-General Atlain I, Minister of War James, and Army Marshal Grozny to verify whether her "proposal" was feasible—and if so, just how useful it might be.
They'd go through their own vetting process anyway, recognize the value in Kaldir's proposal, and hand over whatever was needed. It would take a while before they'd start hounding her to produce the actual weapons she'd designed, so Kaldir figured she had plenty of time to indulge in all sorts of fun with the princess and Shuga in the meantime.
'That's just an excuse, isn't it? She's probably just too hooked on the fun to stop and get back to work.'
Atlantia inwardly snarked at Kaldir. Fair enough—once she caught the eye of those three, it'd be obvious she'd be ground to dust as a public toilet without end. In a way, dragging her feet made sense. Enjoying one last sex party as a final feast before the slaughter? That fell squarely within what Atlantia could understand.
Now, for Kaldir's proposed weapons to be officially adopted as standard issue for the Atlantis National Defense Forces, whose opinion among those three would carry the most weight? Secretary-General Atlain I? His position was the highest, but as a politician rather than a soldier by birth, he'd have no choice but to defer to the other two military men.
Minister of War James? Expert as he was in logistics, unit organization, and training, he couldn't know better than Grozny what frontline soldiers truly needed. In the end, his will would be the decisive factor in accepting Kaldir's proposal.
With nearly all more senior officers in the Defense Forces dead or gone—and even scraping together every last air and naval officer—the man stood as the army's absolute senior. In a military where the chain of command was enforced more rigorously than in any other organization, if he declared, "These weapons designed by Kaldir will become our standard issue from now on," it would be implemented without question.
"Ah, you've finally arrived. Truth be told, someone gave me blueprints for air and naval armaments, but as an army man myself, I'm not well-versed in those fields. That's why I called you all. I hope for your sound advice."
"N-no, Marshal, sir... With your forces, you'd surely excel in air and naval matters beyond anyone else."
"No need for flattery even here. In any field, the experts' opinions matter most."
Grozny knew full well the weight his every word carried, so rather than judge Kaldir's blueprints alone, he prudently called in others. Especially for things like space battleships—the navy's mainstay—or warp strategic bombers for the air force, which strayed from his army expertise, it was essential.
As he spurred the review process by summoning specialists in the relevant fields, Grozny omitted one key fact: that the designer was a 15-year-old commoner girl. He himself had shattered outdated male-superior customs in the past, personally awarding Colonel Astra—Kaldir's adoptive mother—her colonel insignia and the Knight's Cross with Iron Cross. Progressive as he was, he couldn't expect everyone gathered here to share that mindset.
Why risk blabbing about the designer's background and have them view the blueprints through colored lenses? What misfortune might that bring? The invitees, seeing he said nothing about the designer, didn't dare ask first. Even if he was known as a gentle superior to his subordinates, this was still the military at its core.
His efforts to prevent biased views paid off: the experts generally praised the performance potential of weapons built from these blueprints. But with Atlantis's industrial base gutted by long years of war, mass production of new weapons would be difficult—that caveat came attached.
"I-I'm sorry, sir... But... if you could just give us a bit more time and budget..."
"Why apologize when it's not your fault? If anything, I'm grateful to our engineers and devoted workers for dragging this fight this far despite our absolute disadvantages."
It was an unavoidable issue. Kaldir had considered production feasibility in her designs to some degree, but her top principle was "overwhelming all existing weapons in performance." Plus, during the last great war, Lucid forces had carpeted the entire Atlantis Empire with strategic nuclear strikes, obliterating key industrial zones.
With major industrial areas vaporized, it would be weirder if they could churn out weapons like breathing. Better to praise the engineers and laborers making do in these dire straits than pine for impossible greed.
"Then let's sum it up. Even if the new weapons' performance hits 100% as specified, our current industrial capacity makes mass production extremely difficult. Correct?"
Overhauling production lines entirely? How would they maintain and supply existing weapons? Until Kaldir proved her claim of arming a 50-trillion-strong force with real examples, better keep current lines running. And weren't they debating this to verify first before demanding that of her?
"Y-yes, correct, sir!"
"But producing prototypes for performance testing shouldn't burden existing lines much. Right?"
"Yes, we'll proceed as ordered, sir!"
Whatever he said, subordinates' answers were mostly "Yes." Saying "No" required immense courage—bordering on recklessness few possessed against such a towering superior.
Once his orders dropped, army weapons like tanks were built in days. The blueprints' perfection, plus engineers grinding workers to the bone, yielded enough to arm a company. Naval and air armaments, being bulkier, proved tougher.
For now, per the marshal's solemn command, they'd test the army weapons first—solo—then joint exercises with navy and air later.
"Fuck, maintaining this Tiger is a goddamn nightmare already... And this beast? Huge engine and transmission look like a bitch to swap."
"Think this big turtle can even move properly? Looks sturdy, though..."
The tankers, first to lay eyes on the real things, judged thus. Dubbed the "Panzerkampfwagen VIII Tyrannosaurus Rex Tank," it screamed top-tier armor at a glance. But their familiar 57-ton Tigers were sluggish enough—would this even budge? Temporarily yanked from Tigers as guinea pigs, they mostly distrusted the new gear.
Soldiers crawled when ordered to. Pre-field tests kicked off at the training grounds the moment prototypes rolled out and test crews were death-lotteried. So... despite frontline soldiers' skepticism, did Kaldir's weapons ace the prelims?
"Something's off. The specs in the attached catalog don't match prelim test results— the discrepancies are huge."
Prelim results weren't bad, but they paled against the confident catalog specs Kaldir had flaunted before the secretary-general. He'd thought these blueprints were the salvation for their dire straits; at this rate, they were just marginally better than existing gear.
Like expecting your "smart kid" to ace every subject with perfect scores, only to open the results and find plenty of mistakes—80s and 90s across the board.
Sure, better than kids scoring worse, but falling short of expectations naturally bred disappointment. Or should they mask it and praise the scores as superior to the rival class's "Tiger" pulling 70s? Hard to say.
"I-I'm terribly sorry, sir...! Our industrial capacity fell so short of fully realizing the blueprint specs... we had to compromise."
"I see... What was the biggest issue in new weapon production?"
"W-well... The blueprints call for a metal called Atlanium—that's the stuff the Cates Empire dubs 'Yahweh's Miracle.' But with the Defense Forces' current capabilities, we have no way to refine it..."
None? So they substituted inferior materials, leading to subpar prelim results? The engineer trailed off before Grozny, but he got the gist. Yeah, lacked the guts to spit it out fully.
Grozny dismissed the terrified engineers for solo think-time, then muttered to himself.
"'Yahweh's Miracle,' huh... We've gotten some Cates weapons before, but was it that tricky to handle...?"
Prelim shortfalls weren't just that, but this seemed insoluble short-term. No choice but to ask that girl Kaldir for real samples... He seemed to steel himself for a decision.