The Military of a Vast Interstellar Nation Has Problems Galore (1)

Then again, there was always the possibility that some bizarre new concept had been dreamed up in a place I knew nothing about and quietly applied to this world as well.

So, just in case, I snapped a discreet photo of Colonel Barbel, posted it to the gallery, and asked the users for their opinions...

So everyone's thinking the same thing. Guess that settles it, then.

I did wonder if this was really the right use for the saying, but as they say, when three people say it, even a tiger that never existed comes into being. Seeing countless users reacting exactly the way I had, I felt a rush of solidarity — so I wasn't the only one thinking it!

But that thought lasted only a moment. Right now, Squadron Commander Barbel was standing in front of me filing her transfer paperwork, after all.

Having fixed my expression as quickly as I could, I nodded and offered her a suitably warm welcome — and from there, conversation for icebreaking purposes naturally began to flow between the Colonel and me.

The very first thing I asked Colonel Barbel was, of course, "Why does a full Colonel talk in fresh-Trainee dana-ka speech?"

At that, she blinked her enormous eyes with a puzzled look for a moment, and then, shortly after:

"Ah, this thing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠here, Consul? It's just that, ever since the old days, whenever I meet someone senior to me, it comes out all on its own somehow, it does."

"Hmm. Is that for real? Tell me more, tell me more~"

"Yes, ma'am. Isn't that why I mentioned I was a little unusual when we first met?"

"I just didn't expect the speech pattern to be where the 'unusual' started."

Her answer was that the military-contracted dana-ka style wasn't an affectation but a personality trait that simply burst out of her naturally — and at that point I remembered that this place was, originally, a game, furthermore one built on a base that (presumably) had an entire modpack crammed into it, and decided to accept reality with a shrug. Entirely plausible quirk.

The next question, naturally, was whether someone could actually maintain such a gyaru-ish look in the military...

But just before that thought made it out of my mouth—

Hold on. Now that I think about it, isn't our own adjutant's design kind of... lewd, for a soldier? And is it really appropriate for me to be saying that to Colonel Barbel of all people?

Had there been an AI bot present, it would no doubt have piped up the instant those words left my mouth: "You really hit the heart of the matter, didn't you?"

So instead of hurling a fastball down the middle, I decided to sneak the question in carefully, in the most tactful way I could manage.

And to my very gently posed inquiry, Colonel Barbel — whom the gallery had meanwhile crowned the "Holy Virgin" — replied:

"You may not be aware of this, Consul. Fundamentally, military discipline in our Empire remains as strict as ever — but when it comes to personal appearance, we're granted a considerable amount of discretion, we are."

"Hmm? Why, though?"

"Can you blame us, Consul? The Doctor alone has two enormous horns and tentacles built like prosthetic limbs — a standard-issue service uniform is flatly impossible to wear, isn't it?"

"Uh... fair point, actually?"

"Beyond the matter of bodies being simply too large or too small, some have multiple sets of arms and legs, or multiple heads; others grow wings, tails, or horns; and in extreme cases, parts of the body are perpetually on fire, or made of ice. You name it, we've got it, we do."

"Ahh, so that's why."

"By those standards, I'm downright tame. Some troopers serve as full soldiers while the only 'uniform' left anywhere on their body is their rank insignia and nothing else."

"...Yeah, I suppose cases like that really would be everywhere."

On top of what she'd said, she offered plenty of additional explanation — but to summarize: the Demonia Empire was, in the most literal sense possible, a multi-species interstellar empire assembled by gathering every species under the sun from across the entire galaxy.

Which meant that even among the officer class, where strict military discipline was demanded, expecting everyone to wear uniforms of the same silhouette was simply impossible in practice.

Of course, at the precise moment I was nodding along to this line of reasoning—

"That said, Doctor — even within the humanoid body plan, it remains a fact that Colonel Barbel is uniquely heavy on the grooming."

"Ah."

Because that was a separate issue entirely from uniform compatibility — Colonel Barbel's gyaru☆ aesthetic — the observation came tumbling out of Ilena, who had been standing beside me the whole time.

And the instant those words landed, I watched the Colonel's expression cloud over dramatically as she began drumming the fingertips of both hands against each other in a nervous little patter.

Well. Her sulking lasted only a moment.

"Just so we're clear, Colonel. I don't care one bit how any of us choose to style our appearance."

"Oh! Is that so, Consul? But those Marine battalion commanders, you see..."

"Those ones either never had any intention of grooming themselves in the first place, or they just tend to march around like clones off an assembly line."

"...Oh."

At my declaration of respect for individuality, her expression brightened back up in a heartbeat.

The rest of the conversation was, for the most ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠part, nothing but idle small talk...

"By the way, is a squadron commander actually supposed to be a Colonel? 'Cause I could've sworn I heard it was a Brigadier General or a Major General or something."

"Yes, that's correct, Consul! And whoever told you the latter was probably talking about a flotilla, not a squadron!"

"Ohhh, I see."

"Of course, flotillas come in all sizes too, so their commanders range from Brigadier General up to — occasionally — Lieutenant General!"

"Huh?"

"And from fleet level upward, the minimum is Lieutenant General, but more often than not it's a Senior General or a full General in command!"

"Lieutenant General? Senior General? What on earth are you talking about?"

"Colonel Barbel, the Doctor isn't well-versed in that particular area."

"Oh! My apologies, ma'am! Allow me to explain properly!"

Through exchanges like that, I learned the truth: when it came to its general-officer ranks, the Demonia Empire — an entity so vast it dwarfed not only the ordinary nations of Earth-like worlds, but the Earth Alliance, the Babel Cult, and every other interstellar power besides — had gone its own way.

In most places, the general ranks run a perfectly ordinary progression: Brigadier General, Major General, Lieutenant General, General, and finally Field Marshal. Nothing unusual about that.

Demonia, however, tacks on a Senior General and a Grand Marshal on top of that — meaning a full seven general-grade tiers were floating around in peacetime alone. Hearing this, I could think only one thing: getting promoted has to be absolute hell here.

And that was, to be clear, only the general-officer tier.

"For the record, field-grade and below is even worse."

"Worse how? What do you mean?"

"Take company-grade officers alone. The basic ladder of Second Lieutenant, Lieutenant, Captain is roughly the same as anywhere — but Special-Duty variants are wedged in between every rung, so in practice there are eight ranks."

"......"

"The NCO tier is worse still. On top of the base ranks you have the Special-Duty grades, and then those split again into First-Class, Second-Class, and standard versions."

"...So Staff Sergeant through Sergeant Major, with Special-Duty, First-Class, Second-Class, and plain-old versions layered on top...?"

"Sergeant counts as an NCO too, you know, Consul? Oh — and for the record, Sergeant has no Special-Duty, First-Class, or Second-Class variants."

"Then what about the regular enlisted?"

"Enlisted ranks are just what they are, they are. You start as a Trainee, then become a Private, Private First Class, and then a Corporal."

"Whoa..."

"Tough world out there, huh."

"Of course, enlisted soldiers, NCOs, and officers all start from different starting lines in the first place — different goals, different destinations — so the comparison is a little fuzzy, it is."

Seeing a rank system that ballooned into that kind of madness the moment you summed up every tier together — a truly regrettable specimen of modpack-style lore overkill — I gazed upon an escalation of lower-rank design that surpassed even the general-officer lunacy, and could only conclude, from the bottom of my heart: yeah, this world is not easy.