001. The Garbage Base
001. The Garbage Base
"Welcome, new Commander. I am Alicia, handling the operational affairs of Forward Base Krädel.
"Before I report on the detailed status, I'd like to ask your preferred reporting style. Do you prefer honesty, or a bit of window dressing?"
"Honesty is good."
"It seems you're fucked."
I couldn't agree more.
It wasn't exactly a fact I had just realized, either.
From the moment I received the orders assigning me to Krädel, I had sensed that my future life as a Commander was going to be twisted beyond repair.
That was how infamous Krädel was, even among the Academy cadets.
A base reserved for washout Commanders, filled with bottom-tier soldiers—a garbage-tier base.
To put it even more simply, a dumping-ground pseudo-base.
That place was Krädel.
Because of this, graduating cadets deployed to Krädel generally dropped out and looked for other jobs the moment their assignment was confirmed.
However, there were very occasional exceptions—cadets who didn't drop out even after learning their posting was Krädel.
The reasons varied.
Maybe the rumors were wrong.
Maybe the base was better than what was known.
Even if it really was a terrible base, there would be room for improvement through effort.
More than any of that, after breaking their backs for three years at the Academy, they had no confidence they could live as anything other than a Commander now.
They gritted their teeth. They resolved to endure with nothing but grit and grind.
I was also one of that grit-and-grind squad. I, too, had resolved that since things had turned out this way, I would go and work hard.
With that resolve, I crossed a dangerous zone where even the rail line had been cut, made my way through the swamps, and finally reached Krädel.
What awaited me there was Krädel's exterior, dismal enough to crush every last bit of motivation I had.
—The only existing buildings were a shabby residential block and an even shabbier main building.
—The outer wall was so severely damaged that the boundary between inside and outside the base was ambiguous.
—Weeds reaching waist height covered the entire base.
—A massive trash island existed next to the site, causing a constant stench and swarming with insects.
Probably eight out of ten of the grit-and-grind squad fled after seeing this exterior.
But I endured even the terrible first impression and made my way into Krädel's command center.
I went in clinging to a sliver of hope that the base itself might be better than it looked from the outside.
And yet, the operational status report I received upon arriving at the command center was enough to snatch away even my last remaining hope.
"All training facilities are Level 1 or closed. Multiple complaints about drafts entering the residential block. Water supply is restricted. Electricity provides only basic power. Not a penny in saved budget. The entire unit's troop strength, including you, is only three... Are these all true?"
"Regrettably, they are."
At that point, I hit my mental limit.
Frankly, I was reaching the point of wanting to throw in the towel.
No, seriously.
How was I supposed to manage this place?
There had to be something there before anyone could manage it.
Had she read my self-loathing in my expression?
Alicia asked in the same businesslike tone she used for the usual WWE routine.
"Shall I print out the Commander resignation form?"
"Seems you at least have a printer?"
"We do, but it's broken, so I'll write it by hand. You needn't worry about format errors. I've written it so often I've memorized it down to the line spacing and font size."
How very competent.
Instead of muttering that, I shook my head.
"I don't need a resignation form. I have absolutely no intention of resigning."
I had no other options. Nowhere to go back to.
No, that aside.
"In the first place, what's so wrong with this place that you talk as if I must resign? Obviously, there are flaws in both the exterior and the interior... but in some aspects, there are advantages too. For one thing, being this remote means relatively less interference from inspectors."
"You're positive. For reference, there were three previous Commanders who said the exact same thing, but on average, they resigned the next day."
They lasted long.
"...While we're on the subject, how many days did the longest holdout last?"
"Well, in the nearly one year I've served here, I believe three days was the maximum."
"Alright. Then my primary goal is to last three days."
Whether I enthusiastically declared my ambitions or not, Alicia seemed utterly unimpressed.
She responded mechanically.
"Understood. Then I'll guide you to the residential block immediately. Sleeping for about three days would also be one method."
"...No, holding out like that is completely meaningless."
I hadn't set that goal just to set a new record.
Instead, if there was something I needed to do... it was, of course, to normalize this base.
Rebuild the collapsed walls.
Repaint the walls.
Pull the weeds.
And so on.
Of course, I couldn't do that much work alone.
Even if I took the time to do it alone, it would cost money.
The military wouldn't cover those expenses.
This was the same for most bases, not just a penal posting like Krädel.
Commanders were contract workers paid on a per-mission basis.
If we needed supplies, the only option was to put the base's troops to work and provide for ourselves.
So, that long preamble aside.
The conclusion was this.
"First, call this base's troops here. A new Commander has arrived, so let's at least exchange greetings."
I asked as kindly as I could.
But for some reason,
the next moment, instead of turning around to operate the communications equipment, Alicia answered flatly.
"The notice was already delivered."
...Huh?
"What do you mean, already delivered?"
"This morning, the high command sent a notification to the personal contacts of the soldiers belonging to Krädel. It stated that a new Commander would be appointed and asked them to assemble at the Commander's office by 2 PM to greet the new Commander. The reason I was waiting for you here, Commander, was also because I received that message."
"Really?"
I briefly glanced around the interior of the Commander's office. Just in case there was someone else besides Alicia and me.
...No, there wasn't even a point in looking around.
The Commander's office was just a small office.
There was no way it could conceal someone I hadn't already noticed.
And indeed, that was the case. Only the two of us were here.
So I asked, puzzled.
"Why didn't the others come?"
"I'm not sure. It appears they recognized the order and deliberately refused to comply."
"...And why is that?"
"It can be roughly summarized as 'lack of work motivation.'"
Good grief...
A sigh escaped me, but the situation was entirely predictable.
The soldiers assigned to Krädel were, like their Commanders, 'washouts' who had caused some kind of trouble in their previous units and been expelled.
"So what, do I have to fight alone...?"
"I won't stop you."
Alicia replied as if it were beneath her notice.
It was that unrealistic. Humans couldn't participate directly in combat, after all.
In this world, the beings that fought on the battlefield in place of humans were biodroids.
Humanoid weapon platforms with the appearance of girls, whose entire bodies, save for their brains, were made of machinery.
If that was hard to imagine from words alone, all one had to do was look at Alicia.
She was also a biodroid, not a human.
The proof of that fact was in her appearance. Platinum hair tied in a braided bun and mysterious emerald eyes. A small face and a model-like figure.
She possessed colors and beauty impossible for a human.
Likewise, she would also possess formidable combat power impossible for a human.
My role as the Commander was to cultivate and utilize that power hidden within her beauty.
To do that, of course, it was necessary to build mutual trust and elicit their voluntary goodwill and cooperation.
...Even if they were washouts who wouldn't even obey an order to exchange greetings.
No, if anything, precisely because they were Krädel's biodroids, I'd need to work even harder.
The Commanders assigned here before me were all undoubtedly washouts themselves.
Surely they must be assuming that this Commander would be human trash too.
In that situation, to earn their trust... first, I had to show them I was fundamentally different from the previous Commanders.
So.
"Alright. I've decided."
"Have you finally made up your mind to resign?"
Of course not.
"I said I'm not resigning. Anyway, just tell me where those guys are. You can do that, right?"
"It's certainly not difficult, but... why do you ask so suddenly?"
Alicia tilted her head and asked, the gesture at odds with her mature appearance.
I answered with a shrug.
"Since they have no intention of coming to me first, I'll have to go to them."
I'd go and show them that I was different from the previous Commanders.
If I just did that, their lost work motivation would return.
There was once a time when I naively laid out such an optimistic plan.