The Empty Seat of a Hero (3)

The Springfield Armory in the United States of America.

The Kokura Arsenal in Tokyo.

Even the Fabrique Nationale in Herstal, Belgium.

Heavy, cold chunks of iron, manufactured in every corner of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠world.

Murder machines that could snatch a human life with nothing more than a single pull of a finger had finally shed the leather mask under which they had hidden themselves from the eyes of the world.

Time slows down.

One minute becomes ten seconds.

Ten seconds become five.

Five become one.

One second splits again into a tenth.

Time, shattering finer and finer, comes to rest at 0.03 seconds.

0.03 seconds.

The minimum time a human being needs to perceive a situation.

— ?!!!

Neurons fire inside the brain. Every experience accumulated over a lifetime, along with the future it can be used to predict, is converted into electrical signals and scattered in all directions as raw thought.

— !!!

— !!!

The thoughts spilling from the neurons spread outward like waves, and time rides atop them, stretching itself.

0.03 seconds expands back out to 0.15.

0.15 seconds.

The minimum time required to judge a perceived situation and assign it meaning.

0.3 seconds.

The typical time required to judge a perceived situation and assign it meaning.

0.5 seconds.

The utmost time required to judge a perceived situation and assign it meaning.

Inside the brains of everyone aboard the train, neurons raced without pause through the past, weighing what the most appropriate action might be.

And yet.

Lee Tae-oh's time stopped at 0.15 seconds.

His neurons did not search through all of the past. They severed every unnecessary connection and picked out only the precise fragments of the past that were needed.

He was the only man alive who had experienced a world where a single tenth of a second's hesitation, a single misstep, led straight to death. No one in this day and age had ridden at Mach speeds beyond the sound barrier, drifting between life and death itself. He was the only one who had ever eaten a senior classmate's flying kick to the face because his reaction-time score had slipped, because his flight-simulation score had dropped.

Primal survival instinct offered him one option, and one option only.

'Enemies. Five.'

'Nearest ones first.'

'Fire.'

0.2 seconds.

0.5 seconds.

1 second.

As the seconds crawled by and the others' thoughts stacked upon themselves, Lee Tae-oh's judgment only grew faster. He did not think about failure the way they did. He did not think about alternatives the way they did. A mere single second was enough.

— BANG—!!

"Gahk!"

Beside First Lieutenant Tanaka's seat, an Imperial Japanese NCO had been fumbling a pistol out of his cavalry chest holster when a lead round shattered his collarbone. The revolver's cylinder spun, loading the next cartridge. The hammer scraped against the primer and struck it once more. Instead of the NCO's collapsing body, it was his head that now snapped backward.

"Nakamura!"

Light drained from the eyes of the man called Nakamura as he took rounds through two vital points, and his body crumpled like a marionette with its strings cut.

That made it four on four.

— Bang—!

— Ratatatang—!!

Bullets tore through the air, hailing down on both sides. Bullet scars pocked every corner of the cramped passenger car.

"Kill every one of those Shina bastards!!"

"Focus on anyone trying to take cover and push in!"

Crouched behind the seats like a barricade, Lee Tae-oh bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Driver! Get us moving, now!!"

***

"U-Uwaaaah!!"

The driver, who had been huddled and shivering in the engine cab, hauled the throttle back as far as it would go on pure spinal reflex at the sound of my command. The regulator flew wide open, and the colossal pressure of the steam they had been holding back slammed down into the cylinders like a hammer.

Exhaust vapor burst out in a deafening puff! puff! racket.

"A-Aah!!"

"Ughaaak!!"

The moment the multi-thousand-horsepower locomotive roared and lurched like a dragon belching fire, First Lieutenant Tanaka and his Japanese soldiers, standing with nothing to grab onto, lost their footing and tumbled clean off the train.

Those of us back in the passenger car braced ourselves against the seats, using them as both cover and handholds, and rode out the sudden surge.

"Driver! Full speed to Pingfang Station! Move!"

"Y-Yes, sir!!"

The scenery of Shuangchengpu Station whipped past the train windows.

"Major! Why the hell are we running away instead of finishing every last one of them off!?"

Du Lisan, twin pistols in hand, came over looking utterly baffled.

"Because I only counted the five I could see."

I glanced at the corpse sprawled out behind the driver, who was frantically wrestling with the engine controls.

"Who's to say there aren't more?"

"...Fair point."

Five men had boarded the train. But there could be others surrounding the station, or lying in ambush around it.

"Still, those bastards don't have the manpower to seal off two stations at once."

"Why not?"

"Their commanding officer is a first lieutenant. A company commander at best — and going by what he told me, the largest unit he'd ever led was a single platoon. So at most one platoon, and more likely a squad or two."

And besides, those bastards clearly weren't moving on orders from above. The Japanese army was so short-handed these days that at Caigou Station they'd had to lean on Russian troops just to lock the place down.

"My guess is they're the ones directly responsible for this protection detail."

"Directly responsible, sir?"

"The ones slated to commit seppuku. Men trying to save their own necks will do anything."

The Japanese army was always like this. The brass pulled a Tarrantella-style vanishing act and slipped out the back, while whichever mid-level officer had the biggest head got to agonize over 'the shame of the motherland' and whatnot before having his belly opened up. In the original timeline, didn't Emperor Showa himself dump absolutely everything on Tojo Hideki and live fat and happy to the end?

"From their perspective, nothing beats gunning us down and pinning the whole thing on us."

Once we reached Harbin, even our own garrison there would be a full battalion. A Japanese force of barely a few companies wouldn't dare flex at that. If the bastards we'd just shaken off couldn't catch up with our train, the game was over.

Not that men who hadn't learned to walk on air were about to run down a locomotive.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"S-Sir."

"?"

The driver approached me, sweat pouring down his face.

"We were supposed to take on coal at Shuangchengpu, but with all the trouble there I couldn't load any. From here on out, we'll be running slow, sir..."

"......"

Unbelievable. There really was never an easy road in this life.

***

First Lieutenant Tanaka ground his teeth and whipped the reins down.

"Hyah!"

The horse whinnied in pain and picked up speed.

"Lieutenant! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠You'll ride the horse into the ground!"

"Shut your mouth!"

Nothing in the world existed for Tanaka anymore but the road ahead.

Crunch.

As far as Tanaka was concerned, the world could go straight to hell. The senile old fossils at Imperial Headquarters breathing down his neck could go to hell. Being cast aside like a worn-out tool despite his service and honors in the Russo-Japanese War could go to hell. But above all, that insufferable Shina bastard was the most goddamn infuriating thing of all.

If only the son of a bitch had handed over command the way Tanaka had demanded!

Prince Ito would still be alive!

"Fucking Shina bastard. I'll kill you if it's the last thing I do."

He brought the whip down on the horse again.

So he rode, following the rails laid across the broad Manchurian plain, for a long while.

"Lieutenant! There! I see the train!"

Just as expected!

The gods had not yet abandoned him!

"Spread out left and right and envelop them! They're outnumbered!"

"Hai!"

The six cavalrymen under First Lieutenant Tanaka fanned out, three to a side, and drove their spurs into their galloping horses. Horse and rider closed in alongside the train racing down the long stretch of track.

"No need to take prisoners! Grind them down with firepower!"

— Shick!

A Type 30 cavalry rifle came up out of its saddle scabbard. The midday sun glanced off the sights, the barrel, every gleaming piece of steel.

"Light them up! All they've got is pistols! Keep their heads down so they can't even peek out!!"

— Ratatatang—!!!

6.5mm Arisaka rounds poured mercilessly onto the passenger car. The windows shattered, the woodwork gave a hideous shriek and vomited up dust and sawdust.

Tanaka and his six brave riders were all elite veterans with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠real combat experience from the Russo-Japanese War. Losing Nakamura had been a careless mistake, nothing more. So in a straight fight like this, brute force against brute force, there was no way they could lose.

The Shina troops, who'd never done more than sweep up bandits, were probably cowering in terror, too frightened to even lift their heads.

"Right flank, keep firing and hold their attention! Left flank, close in and board the train!"

"Hai!"

Tanaka gave the order, then pulled up on the right himself, drew his Type 26 revolver, and emptied it into the passenger car. Sure enough, the Shina bastards didn't dare poke their heads out.

At last the left wing reached the train, and one of the NCOs leapt from his horse onto the coupler linking car to car. Pistol drawn, he slipped just his hand through the gap in the car door and poured out all six rounds of his revolver's cylinder.

The instant he reached for fresh ammunition—

"Done shooting?"

"Huh?"

"Then die."

A hand thrust out from inside the car, seized him by the collar, and yanked the NCO bodily into the train. The last thing he felt in this world, his stunned face frozen in shock, was something cold and metal pressed against the underside of his jaw.

*

I hauled the limp Japanese corpse up by its collar and made a shield of it. Aiming my Colt revolver over its shoulder, I felt like some Greek phalanx of one.

"Yamada! I'll kill every last one of these bastards!!"

"If this is what they gave you instead of seppuku, shouldn't you be thanking them?"

"KISAMAAAAA—!!!!"

One of the closing riders bore down on me and emptied his pistol, but every round meant for me buried itself in the body of his dead comrade instead. I fired back, though from a locomotive that never stopped rocking, half-aiming over my dead man's shoulder, I couldn't land a clean hit.

— Clang!

"I'll kill you!"

The bastard noticed I was out of ammunition, drew his cavalry saber, dug in his spurs, and leapt up onto the train.

I ducked back into the car to evade his swinging blade.

"Du Lisan!"

"Yes, sir!"

Du Lisan, who had been waiting silently at my back, hammered rounds into the narrow gap between the car door and me in a blink. The .38-caliber rounds barking out of his Smith & Wesson revolver and Colt M1903 automatic shredded the saber-wielding Japanese soldier's midsection.

"G-guhh."

"If you're dead, then get off!"

Du Lisan booted the wavering Japanese soldier square in the gut with his jackboot. The corpse slid limply off the train and scraped along the ground.

I turned my head slightly and spoke.

"Think you can handle the outside?"

"Major."

Du Lisan topped up his revolver cylinder with a speedloader, then slapped a fresh magazine into the automatic.

"You're talking to the Horse Emperor himself."

Du Lisan let out a short breath, then leapt and landed softly on the back of a horse that had lost its rider and was galloping parallel to the train.

"Die—!"

The last Japanese soldier on the left brought up his rifle, but Du Lisan swung his whole body around in an instant and hung against the horse's flank. Seizing his chance, the man moved to reload.

— BANG!!

My rounds howled past him, punching holes in the air around his head.

"Y-you sons of bitches—!"

He abandoned the reload and ducked low against his saddle to spoil my aim. Du Lisan whipped himself back upright into the saddle and stretched both arms out wide.

— Ratatatatata—!!

A wall of fire, conjured in the space of a heartbeat. The man, pinned by my covering fire and unable to move, dropped riddled like a sieve under Du Lisan's guns.

Two riderless horses, and one that had just gained a new rider, raced side by side down the train's left flank.

*

First Lieutenant Tanaka, watching the left wing disintegrate in mere moments, went pale with disbelief.

"Y-you goddamn bastards! Ride hard, all of you! We are the Empire's last arrow!"

"Hyah!"

The left wing had collapsed, but he had confirmed one thing: they had no heavy weapons. He'd counted four of them. Close the distance and pour in firepower at point-blank range, and they could still win!

Tanaka and his three remaining riders drove their horses ever harder, closing on the train. And just as they came within range—

Four long arms thrust out over the car windows.

— Ratatattang—!!!

Four Belgian-made M1900 automatics — the very pistols that had killed Ito — blazed fire, throwing up a barrage of dozens of rounds.

"Ugh!"

"Kehok!"

Two riders swayed in their saddles; one toppled out onto the desolate plain. The other caught a foot in his stirrup and was dragged across the earth like Hector, before tumbling free onto the plain just the same.

"Deok-sun! Take the one on the right this time!"

"Got it!"

— Clack!

An eight-round magazine, packed to the brim with ammunition, was sucked into the pistols of Jo Do-seon and Woo Deok-sun, and the slides rammed forward with a sharp clack. Hands reached back out through the shattered windows.

"...This cannot be."

To First Lieutenant Tanaka, those arms looked like the hands of a shinigami.

"I — I am the finest elite the Empire of Greater Japan has ever produced!!"

The muzzle turned toward him. It would ride the rifling, the round would spin through fire, and it would not stop until it had bored straight through his body.

"This, cannot, be."

Across the boundless Manchurian plain, First Lieutenant Tanaka gurgled on his own blood.

"This, can... not... be."

And closed his eyes.

***

"Why did you help us?"

"I made a promise."

"To whom?"

"A hero."