Frederica's Beloved Steed
"Climb aboard."
Frederica perched on top of the turret hatch and extended her hand toward me.
I took her hand and hauled myself up onto the turret of Vehicle 101. The cold touch of the steel seeped into my palms.
"Excuse me, then."
I squeezed my body through the narrow hatch.
The interior was cramped. The air was a blend of engine oil, gunpowder, and—strangely—a sweet hint of shampoo.
"Here we are, Lieutenant Colonel. You may take the loader's seat."
Frederica guided me to my position.
Under normal circumstances, that seat belonged to the regular loader; he'd been ordered off precisely so that I could board.
The inside of the tank was a far cry from the rough exterior it showed the world.
Countless dials and levers were arranged in immaculate order, and every surface a hand touched often had been polished to a soft sheen. Not a speck of dust on the floor. You could feel it on your skin just how preciously Frederica cherished this hunk of metal.
"Not too cramped for you?"
Frederica's voice drifted down from above. I looked up to find her legs poking through the hatch, planted right beside my shoulder. Above the tight-fitting tanker trousers, the firm line of her thighs was on full display.
"Cozy. Honestly, it looks cleaner than the room I'm billeted in."
"...I'll take that as a compliment."
She cleared her throat, flustered.
As I scanned the narrow interior, I noticed a small iron cabinet behind the gunner's seat. Unlike the rest of the equipment, it alone looked worn and old—but it was locked fast.
"What's this? An ammo locker?"
The moment I casually reached out to touch it—
"Don't!"
Frederica shrieked in alarm. That was how urgent her reaction was—she scrambled down through the hatch and snatched my wrist.
"Uh...?"
Her face was suddenly inches from mine. Red with panic and mortification.
Status Analysis.
Name:Frederica von Kessel
Condition:Extreme panic, desperate defense
Emotion:Absolutely cannot let anyone discover the "child-rearing diary" she has been keeping — talking to her tank, about her tank.
...A child-rearing diary. For this steel monster?
I barely managed to keep the laughter from bursting out of me.
"Ah, my apologies. Classified, is it?"
I deliberately let go and pulled my hand back.
"Th-that's right! It contains... a very important... maintenance secret of the battalion. No one but the battalion commander may view it."
Frederica lied through her teeth, cold sweat running down her face.
"Classified. Understood. I won't touch it."
"Thank... you."
She breathed a sigh of relief and climbed back up through the hatch. But the blush that had spread all the way to the tips of her ears was beyond hiding.
Cute.
The idle chatter soon ended. I leaned back against the seat and pulled on the tanker's headset.
"All stations, intercom check."
Krk. Frederica's voice came through the headset.
"Driver, good."
"Gunner, good."
"Radio operator, good."
And then I, crouched in the far right corner of the cramped turret, tapped my microphone as well.
"Loader, good."
A strange silence fell over the intercom after my answer. Understandable, really—the one who had just reported in was not some common soldier, but 'Lieutenant Colonel Jäger,' the overall commander of this operation.
VRRRRRUM!
Soon the 12-cylinder tank engine roared to life and shoved forty tons of steel forward.
How long had it been, after that?
"Enemy positions sighted!"
The enemy began to emerge. We took advantage of the darkness and fell upon them, a full surprise attack.
"Eleven o'clock front! Enemy machine-gun position!"
Frederica shouted from atop the cupola. She kicked the gunner's shoulder—a tap, a signal from the tank commander.
"Target acquired!"
The sergeant in the gunner's seat buried his eye in the sight and cranked the turret traverse handle.
Whirrrr!
With the whine of the electric motor, the turret swung around. I (the loader), Frederica (the commander), and the gunner all sat on the same disc—the turret basket—so we turned together with it.
"High-explosive!"
Frederica's order.
My turn now.
...
Except I had no idea how to perform any tank crew role. I was a mere infantry officer, after all.
"L-Lieutenant Colonel...?"
Skill.
Before the turret could sink into an awkward silence, I opened the one and only light of my life—my skill window.
Available Skill Points: 1
Would you like to acquire the skill Weapon Mastery?
Acquire.
Weapon Mastery (Lv.1)
The basic structure of the contacted weapon (Imperial Army Panzer IV) and the duties of the loader are engraved upon your mind.
In an instant, I understood exactly what a loader did. Now I saw why Frederica had seated me at the loader's position. It was the role of pure muscle—comparatively simple work.
With practiced ease, I pulled a 75mm high-explosive round from the rack on the wall.
Click!
I rammed the heavy shell into the main gun's breech chamber. When I smacked the breechblock shut with my fist, the massive mass of steel clanged closed—loading complete.
"Loaded!"
The instant I shouted, Frederica screamed:
"Fire!"
BOOM!!
The main gun spat fire.
The cramped turret interior momentarily expanded like a vacuum, then contracted. With a deafening roar, the main gun recoiled backward and snapped forward again.
Clang!
The breech opened automatically, and the scorching-hot casing bounced out onto the floor. Acrid gunsmoke billowed up in a heartbeat.
"Direct hit! Next target!"
Frederica fired off commands without a moment to spare.
"Driver! Full speed ahead! Don't stop!"
"Gunner! Infantry spreading out at two o'clock!"
"Coaxial machine gun, commence fire!"
RATATATATAT!
As the gunner raked with the coaxial machine gun, the sound of cascading casings rang out right beside my ear.
It was pure chaos.
The gunner's vision was narrow, his eyes glued to the sight. The driver stared only ahead, racing forward. The radio operator had his ears plugged, busy punching through the static.
Only Frederica, perched on the cupola, grasped all 360 degrees of the battlefield—serving as the brain of this steel monster.
She's good.
There was nothing to criticize in Frederica's command. Thanks to her, we closed on the enemy's main force in no time.
On the Minimap, the outer factory district swarmed with red dots. The armored battalion was driving straight at them.
"We're ramming through at full speed! Brace for impact! We're going through the wall!"
CRASH—!
The massive tank tore through the factory's old brick wall like it was paper and thundered onward. Into a battlefield of flying dust and debris, we plunged headlong.
KABOOM! KRRRRSH!
The factory courtyard was a scene of carnage. The Resistance fighters, ambushed without warning, were swept aside in moments. At last, the enemy began their final desperate struggle.
Their firepower concentrated on the lead tank.
"Traverse! If we're pierced, we die!"
"Driver! Hard right!"
GRROOOOAR!
The tracks screamed as they ground the asphalt to shreds. Forty tons of steel lurched violently.
BANG! KRAAANG!
The shockwave of a surprise explosion rocked Vehicle 101.
"Battalion Commander! This is the driver! The periscope's shattered! I can't see a thing!"
"Radio's dead! Only the engine's barely alive!"
The driver and radio operator reported the bad news through the hull bulkhead. Fortunately the tank itself was intact, but the situation was anything but manageable.
And then—
CRASH! WHUMP!
"Infantry swarming onto the hull!"
A Republic special operations team, resolved to die, launched a suicide charge.
"Major! Get down! Close the hatch!"
On pure reflex, I seized Frederica by her booted ankle and yanked her down.
"Kyaaaah!"
She slid down into the turret. I stretched out my arm and slammed the hatch shut.
TUDUDUDUDAK!
Bullets rained down on the sealed hatch, sounding like a downpour. One second later, and there would have been a hole drilled through Frederica's skull.
"Ugh...!"
Frederica had collapsed against my chest. Two people tangled together on the floor of a turret that barely fit one.
"L-Lieutenant Colonel! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—!"
Frederica was flustered beyond words.
"Stay calm! Panicking will only get us killed."
I pressed down hard on her shoulders, pinning her. Anyone thrashing around inside the turret risked having an arm sheared off by the rotating main gun breech.
"Come here."
Then, without a moment's hesitation, I caught her by the waist and hauled her onto my lap.
"Kyaah?!"
Her firm bottom settled squarely onto my thighs.
"Wh-what are you doing?!"
"Hold still! If you stay on the floor, you'll be ground up by the rotating gears. My lap is the safest place."
"B-but...!"
Touch of Attunement.
Touch of Attunement (Lv.2)
Forcibly stabilizes the target's disrupted biological rhythms.
Warm energy flowed from my palm, sinking in along her shoulder. Her resisting body calmed as if by magic.
"Haaaah..."
I studied the Minimap and began pinpointing the positions of the red dots.
"Gunner! Two o'clock! Traverse the turret!"
At my shout, the gunner sergeant—still caught in his panic—reacted on pure instinct.
"B-but I can't see anything!"
"Then I'll do it for you."
This was infuriating. Still holding Frederica in my arms, I bent my upper body forward. My chest pressed against her back, and the back of her head buried itself into my shoulder.
I reached my arms through the gaps on either side of her and seized the turret traverse handle mounted beside the gunner's seat.
"Nnngh...!"
My arm brushed right along the side of her breast. In that cramped space, our two bodies interlocked like gears in a machine.
Weapon Mastery (Lv.1)
Compensates for the Panzer IV's turret traverse speed and aiming error.