Guilty Gear fic: Chain of Command - part 1
Title: Chain of Command
Part: 1/3
Genre: Despite characters involved, all very much gen
Rating: Probably needs an R, but only for Sol's language.
Word count: 2400
Notes:
This all began life as a few random thoughts to the effect that, if Ky made it to captain (and later commander) within a year of joining the Order, there had to be some kind of story behind it. (The multi-parter kind which required the writer to turn out giant battle scenes, as it turned out, but we work with the ideas we get.)
No spoilers or even more than basic knowledge of the series required for this one which is really slightly embarrassing to admit considering how long I spent tracking down obscure background details. Thanks go to velithya for betaing and just generally being enthusiastic about it all.
The briefing was not even half over before Ky started to feel uneasy. If it had been no more than anticipation for the coming battle he might have brushed it off easily, but it was pointless pretending there was no more to it than that. Reminding himself of his own inexperience did some good - he was painfully aware that barely two months ago he’d still been in training, that too much of his very understanding of military tactics was owed to extended study of text books and written reports of past battles - a miserable substitute for real field experience. But it did little good, he’d spent so long training his mind for this that to analyse was a mental reflex. He could no more have stopped it than he could have closed his ears.
“Information provided by our scouts has located a substantial Gear force moving inland through Western Spain,” their captain had begun. The overhead display showed a map marking out towns or cities with populations large enough to invite enemy attack. Figures to one side laid out the size of the force and its make up by size class - this was to be no trivial battle.
“Based on our analysis of their most likely targets on their current course, they will be in position to attack within forty-eight hours. We will have one and only one opportunity to intercept them on favourable terrain before then.” Brought to the far side of the display by his pacing, the captain switched around to face his audience before resuming in the other direction. He cut an impressive figure, the sort of man who could go into battle and return without so much as a crease in his neatly pressed uniform. “Their objective appears to be to break through our lines without detection by using a little known route. They will not be expecting an attack. We will have the element of surprise on our side, and we do not intend to waste that.”
The talk went on into angles of advancement, pincer attacks, use of terrain and division of forces. The map was replaced with a scaled up version of the prospective battlefield with traditional coloured markers to show friend or foe, spread and movement, advance and retreat. It was an elaborate plan which would require careful coordination to be made to work, a strategy achieved by calculating every factor that could be turned to their favour to the finest degree. Given how little time there must have been to concoct it, it was impressive work - the tactical division must have been working non-stop since the report came in - but the longer Ky listened, the more seemed amiss. He could feel himself furrowing his brow further with every new detail. Could he really have been seeing a side to this plan all his superiors had missed?
When the captain reached the end of his speech and asked for questions, Ky did know objectively that this was more of a polite formality than an actual offer, and definitely not one that was extended to the petty concerns of the new recruits. But he also knew this was the only chance he would get - that he’d been self-consciously waiting for this part for the last forty minutes. Against his better judgement, he stepped forward. “Sir!”
Startled, the captain had to look around for the source of the voice. He made an abortive gesture that may have been meant to bring a hand over his eyes - this job, said every inch of his posture, would be a lot less irritating if it didn’t include the task of housebreaking recruits. “You have a question, private?”
It was too late to back out now. “Sir,” Ky responded, barely aware he was dropping automatically into the same tone he’d used in his schooling when called on in class, “from what I understand of our strategy, success will depend heavily on our ability to isolate those Gears in the largest classes in order to concentrate enough firepower to bring them down with a ground-based assault. However, the implication of an attack based on flanking the enemy from both sides is…”
“That’s correct private,” the captain had heard enough from him already, “that is a hinging point of this affair, which is why I have repeatedly stressed the importance of the element of surprise and that we immediately secure the high ground and hold it from that point onward.” Apparently done with the upstart recruit, his attention shifted back to rest of his audience. “I should not have to remind any of you of the crucial role the magic divisions will play in this battle, particularly regarding the matter of neutralising those larger class Gears. Magical units one to five will attend additional briefings with a member of the tactical division two hours before the attack to elaborate on the details of their role. All dismissed.”
“But that doesn’t…” was on the tip of Ky’s tongue, but he bit down on the impulse quickly. He’d had his chance, he’d already made more of a spectacle of himself than he liked; to question their captain any further would be insubordination.
He’d just have to hope some nuance of this plan he hadn’t seen would pull them through.
***
Ky dawdled on his way out of the hall - more than was necessary just to avoid looking like he was in a rush to get out after that confrontation - but he already knew it was unlikely he’d have much luck making himself concentrate on anything else until the hour rolled around that evening, so there was nothing to hurry away to. Four hours to go before the airship was due to be ready for boarding - longer still before they’d even glimpse the battlefield, and precious little that would be expected of him before then other than that he’d checked any equipment he owned and maybe polished his sword a little. On any other day, there’d be a routine training for his unit in half an hour, but there’d scarcely be anyone to administer that today. Still, maybe some exercise would help clear his head. Ky headed for the training field.
The hallways were mostly deserted by the time he left, he made it much of the way to the barracks without seeing anyone who wasn’t hurrying in some other direction on some important errand or other. Preparations for this evening would be keeping anyone with even reasonable seniority busy for the rest of the day, but even for those of lower rank there was a buzz of activity and anticipation which kept people moving.
When he reached the outside walkway there was a man leaning against the wall not far from the archway smoking a cigarette, with the relaxed countenance that suggested a veteran of so many battles that today’s would be nothing special. He was vaguely familiar, though Ky couldn’t immediately place him, and dressed in the same uniform as the hundreds of other soldiers in the magical divisions. He was also wearing a bright red forehead protector which wasn’t standard issue, and which appeared to be the only thing keeping an unruly mess of brown hair out of his face. The heavy blade weapon - far too large to justify description as a sword - propped up within an arm’s reach against the wall marked him as the sort of man who would probably treat any weapon he carried as an oversized fist. Even under his uniform it was hard to miss that he was built to match, but no matter how hard that might have grated against everything his instructors had ever instilled in him, Ky hadn’t spent long on the battlefield without discovering that against an opponent like the Gears, blunt force tactics had their place. The soldier had presumably come out here for no other reason than to enjoy a smoke somewhere quiet, and Ky hadn’t meant to pay him any attention, but he was not particularly surprised to hear a voice calling out to him before he was properly past.
“You’ve got some balls for a recruit,” drawled the man, with an accent that betrayed him as an American, or at least someone who had been from America at some earlier point in his life. “Shame they didn’t last you long enough to tell him where he could shove his plans. That would’a been a show.”
Ky halted. Part of him had been mentally preparing for questions not so different to this ever since he’d left the hall, and, to his credit, he kept his composure without difficulty.
“What our captain said was right,” he said, not looking around. If he could answer quickly without losing his calm, he could still get out of this with his dignity. “I am an inexperienced recruit. For me to question his authority any further would have been inappropriate.” He was about to excuse himself and go on his way, but the man gave a loud snort before he could finish.
“Authority, my ass,” he said. “The man we’re calling a captain has his head full of books on tactics over two hundred years old. Thinks we’ve got an enemy that knows how to surrender or retreat. Knows how to do anything but fight until there isn’t a single one left standing.”
It was unnerving the way he said that, low voiced and casual, and a little too easy to believe that this man really had seen enough battles that what he was describing was nothing remarkable. Ky turned but couldn’t immediately come up with a way to respond.
The man caught his eye just long enough to make Ky hope he wasn’t gaping, but then glanced away again with a shrug. “’Course, most of the rest fight like they’re dealing with wild animals. Take your pick.”
Ky frowned, unsure what the stranger was getting at. “Then… which is the better assumption?”
The man grinned around his cigarette, the main effect of which was to make a lot of white teeth visible “That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?”
Ky made himself think before he decided how to respond. “Gears. They’re creatures created by infusing magic into a into a living creature, sometimes combining aspects of more than one species. They can be made from humans, but even then the process causes them to lose rationality and act purely on instinct. However, even purely animal-based Gears are subject to the directions of a Commander Gear - and a commander can act rationally. The answer - it’s part of both, isn’t it?”
The soldier did not look impressed by Ky’s deductive work. “Very textbook of you. What’d they, pull you straight out of school? You can’t be eighteen.”
“Fifteen,” Ky admitted, feeling his cheeks colouring slightly. It had never sounded so young as this before.
From the man’s expression, that was even younger than he’d been expecting. “Shit,” he muttered. “How’d I wind up in an army run by an old geezer, lead by fools and made up of kids?”
Ky felt himself clenching his fists before he could stop himself reacting. He couldn’t risk losing his temper over something like this - it would be just the sort of childish reaction the man was expecting, but he was going to have to make the case for his right to be here carefully if he wanted to be taken seriously. It didn’t seem likely the soldier would be impressed by the information that he’d done little else but train to join the Holy Order for the last five years, that he’d advanced so fast few of his instructors had quite known what to do with him, or even that he’d been told point blank that the Order was in desperate need of a dozen more like him in his assigned unit alone.
“You’re mistaken to assume I’m new to combat,” he said instead. “Gears draw no distinction between soldier and civilian. The area around the facility where I trained has come under attack six times in the last year, and assistance can be slow to reach us. All allowing me to join the Holy Order officially has changed is how often I’m called upon to fight.”
The man shrugged, unmoved by this new information. “You didn’t get what you told our sorry excuse for a captain out of your textbooks, anyone could tell that. But a kid is still a kid.”
It would be no use trying to convince this man otherwise, Ky realised, arguing would be as futile as standing up to their captain had been, but, strangely, the thought was less unsatisfying that he would have expected. He’d known when he arrived as a recruit that he’d have to work to prove himself. Still feeling unusually brave, it finally dawned on him now he’d had longer to study his questioner properly why the man had looked familiar. “You’re called Sol Badguy, right? The bounty hunter Sir Kliff recently convinced to join the Order?” he asked. “I’ve heard about you from the other men.”
“I gotta reputation already, huh?” the man - Sol - replied. He didn’t sound greatly bothered by this either way.
“They say you never listen to orders, but you can still take down more Gears than a whole unit of most of the other men,” said Ky, which was little more than word-for-word what he’d been told.
Sol snorted again. “Not hard. Especially if we’re recruiting school kids these days.”
“I’m K…” Ky started, but that was as far as he got.
“Not interested,” Sol cut him off. “Hate collecting dead men’s names. Recruits don’t have much life expectancy here. You live through tonight, you can tell me after.” He dropped his cigarette, stubbed it out with a foot, and turned to head away. After only a couple of steps he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Kid or not you had that much right. That captain doesn’t have a fucking clue what he’s doing. It’s gonna be a massacre.” He almost sounded amused by it.
Ky could only stare in shock at his nonchalance in the face of such a proclamation. “Why… why didn’t you say anything? Surely if you have as much experience as they say, they’d…”
“What, listen to me? Not in this lifetime.” Sol gave him another toothy grin and walked away.
Ky wasn’t sure another coherent thought that went through his head between then and that evening.
ETA: On to Part 2
Part: 1/3
Genre: Despite characters involved, all very much gen
Rating: Probably needs an R, but only for Sol's language.
Word count: 2400
Notes:
This all began life as a few random thoughts to the effect that, if Ky made it to captain (and later commander) within a year of joining the Order, there had to be some kind of story behind it. (The multi-parter kind which required the writer to turn out giant battle scenes, as it turned out, but we work with the ideas we get.)
No spoilers or even more than basic knowledge of the series required for this one which is really slightly embarrassing to admit considering how long I spent tracking down obscure background details. Thanks go to velithya for betaing and just generally being enthusiastic about it all.
The briefing was not even half over before Ky started to feel uneasy. If it had been no more than anticipation for the coming battle he might have brushed it off easily, but it was pointless pretending there was no more to it than that. Reminding himself of his own inexperience did some good - he was painfully aware that barely two months ago he’d still been in training, that too much of his very understanding of military tactics was owed to extended study of text books and written reports of past battles - a miserable substitute for real field experience. But it did little good, he’d spent so long training his mind for this that to analyse was a mental reflex. He could no more have stopped it than he could have closed his ears.
“Information provided by our scouts has located a substantial Gear force moving inland through Western Spain,” their captain had begun. The overhead display showed a map marking out towns or cities with populations large enough to invite enemy attack. Figures to one side laid out the size of the force and its make up by size class - this was to be no trivial battle.
“Based on our analysis of their most likely targets on their current course, they will be in position to attack within forty-eight hours. We will have one and only one opportunity to intercept them on favourable terrain before then.” Brought to the far side of the display by his pacing, the captain switched around to face his audience before resuming in the other direction. He cut an impressive figure, the sort of man who could go into battle and return without so much as a crease in his neatly pressed uniform. “Their objective appears to be to break through our lines without detection by using a little known route. They will not be expecting an attack. We will have the element of surprise on our side, and we do not intend to waste that.”
The talk went on into angles of advancement, pincer attacks, use of terrain and division of forces. The map was replaced with a scaled up version of the prospective battlefield with traditional coloured markers to show friend or foe, spread and movement, advance and retreat. It was an elaborate plan which would require careful coordination to be made to work, a strategy achieved by calculating every factor that could be turned to their favour to the finest degree. Given how little time there must have been to concoct it, it was impressive work - the tactical division must have been working non-stop since the report came in - but the longer Ky listened, the more seemed amiss. He could feel himself furrowing his brow further with every new detail. Could he really have been seeing a side to this plan all his superiors had missed?
When the captain reached the end of his speech and asked for questions, Ky did know objectively that this was more of a polite formality than an actual offer, and definitely not one that was extended to the petty concerns of the new recruits. But he also knew this was the only chance he would get - that he’d been self-consciously waiting for this part for the last forty minutes. Against his better judgement, he stepped forward. “Sir!”
Startled, the captain had to look around for the source of the voice. He made an abortive gesture that may have been meant to bring a hand over his eyes - this job, said every inch of his posture, would be a lot less irritating if it didn’t include the task of housebreaking recruits. “You have a question, private?”
It was too late to back out now. “Sir,” Ky responded, barely aware he was dropping automatically into the same tone he’d used in his schooling when called on in class, “from what I understand of our strategy, success will depend heavily on our ability to isolate those Gears in the largest classes in order to concentrate enough firepower to bring them down with a ground-based assault. However, the implication of an attack based on flanking the enemy from both sides is…”
“That’s correct private,” the captain had heard enough from him already, “that is a hinging point of this affair, which is why I have repeatedly stressed the importance of the element of surprise and that we immediately secure the high ground and hold it from that point onward.” Apparently done with the upstart recruit, his attention shifted back to rest of his audience. “I should not have to remind any of you of the crucial role the magic divisions will play in this battle, particularly regarding the matter of neutralising those larger class Gears. Magical units one to five will attend additional briefings with a member of the tactical division two hours before the attack to elaborate on the details of their role. All dismissed.”
“But that doesn’t…” was on the tip of Ky’s tongue, but he bit down on the impulse quickly. He’d had his chance, he’d already made more of a spectacle of himself than he liked; to question their captain any further would be insubordination.
He’d just have to hope some nuance of this plan he hadn’t seen would pull them through.
***
Ky dawdled on his way out of the hall - more than was necessary just to avoid looking like he was in a rush to get out after that confrontation - but he already knew it was unlikely he’d have much luck making himself concentrate on anything else until the hour rolled around that evening, so there was nothing to hurry away to. Four hours to go before the airship was due to be ready for boarding - longer still before they’d even glimpse the battlefield, and precious little that would be expected of him before then other than that he’d checked any equipment he owned and maybe polished his sword a little. On any other day, there’d be a routine training for his unit in half an hour, but there’d scarcely be anyone to administer that today. Still, maybe some exercise would help clear his head. Ky headed for the training field.
The hallways were mostly deserted by the time he left, he made it much of the way to the barracks without seeing anyone who wasn’t hurrying in some other direction on some important errand or other. Preparations for this evening would be keeping anyone with even reasonable seniority busy for the rest of the day, but even for those of lower rank there was a buzz of activity and anticipation which kept people moving.
When he reached the outside walkway there was a man leaning against the wall not far from the archway smoking a cigarette, with the relaxed countenance that suggested a veteran of so many battles that today’s would be nothing special. He was vaguely familiar, though Ky couldn’t immediately place him, and dressed in the same uniform as the hundreds of other soldiers in the magical divisions. He was also wearing a bright red forehead protector which wasn’t standard issue, and which appeared to be the only thing keeping an unruly mess of brown hair out of his face. The heavy blade weapon - far too large to justify description as a sword - propped up within an arm’s reach against the wall marked him as the sort of man who would probably treat any weapon he carried as an oversized fist. Even under his uniform it was hard to miss that he was built to match, but no matter how hard that might have grated against everything his instructors had ever instilled in him, Ky hadn’t spent long on the battlefield without discovering that against an opponent like the Gears, blunt force tactics had their place. The soldier had presumably come out here for no other reason than to enjoy a smoke somewhere quiet, and Ky hadn’t meant to pay him any attention, but he was not particularly surprised to hear a voice calling out to him before he was properly past.
“You’ve got some balls for a recruit,” drawled the man, with an accent that betrayed him as an American, or at least someone who had been from America at some earlier point in his life. “Shame they didn’t last you long enough to tell him where he could shove his plans. That would’a been a show.”
Ky halted. Part of him had been mentally preparing for questions not so different to this ever since he’d left the hall, and, to his credit, he kept his composure without difficulty.
“What our captain said was right,” he said, not looking around. If he could answer quickly without losing his calm, he could still get out of this with his dignity. “I am an inexperienced recruit. For me to question his authority any further would have been inappropriate.” He was about to excuse himself and go on his way, but the man gave a loud snort before he could finish.
“Authority, my ass,” he said. “The man we’re calling a captain has his head full of books on tactics over two hundred years old. Thinks we’ve got an enemy that knows how to surrender or retreat. Knows how to do anything but fight until there isn’t a single one left standing.”
It was unnerving the way he said that, low voiced and casual, and a little too easy to believe that this man really had seen enough battles that what he was describing was nothing remarkable. Ky turned but couldn’t immediately come up with a way to respond.
The man caught his eye just long enough to make Ky hope he wasn’t gaping, but then glanced away again with a shrug. “’Course, most of the rest fight like they’re dealing with wild animals. Take your pick.”
Ky frowned, unsure what the stranger was getting at. “Then… which is the better assumption?”
The man grinned around his cigarette, the main effect of which was to make a lot of white teeth visible “That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?”
Ky made himself think before he decided how to respond. “Gears. They’re creatures created by infusing magic into a into a living creature, sometimes combining aspects of more than one species. They can be made from humans, but even then the process causes them to lose rationality and act purely on instinct. However, even purely animal-based Gears are subject to the directions of a Commander Gear - and a commander can act rationally. The answer - it’s part of both, isn’t it?”
The soldier did not look impressed by Ky’s deductive work. “Very textbook of you. What’d they, pull you straight out of school? You can’t be eighteen.”
“Fifteen,” Ky admitted, feeling his cheeks colouring slightly. It had never sounded so young as this before.
From the man’s expression, that was even younger than he’d been expecting. “Shit,” he muttered. “How’d I wind up in an army run by an old geezer, lead by fools and made up of kids?”
Ky felt himself clenching his fists before he could stop himself reacting. He couldn’t risk losing his temper over something like this - it would be just the sort of childish reaction the man was expecting, but he was going to have to make the case for his right to be here carefully if he wanted to be taken seriously. It didn’t seem likely the soldier would be impressed by the information that he’d done little else but train to join the Holy Order for the last five years, that he’d advanced so fast few of his instructors had quite known what to do with him, or even that he’d been told point blank that the Order was in desperate need of a dozen more like him in his assigned unit alone.
“You’re mistaken to assume I’m new to combat,” he said instead. “Gears draw no distinction between soldier and civilian. The area around the facility where I trained has come under attack six times in the last year, and assistance can be slow to reach us. All allowing me to join the Holy Order officially has changed is how often I’m called upon to fight.”
The man shrugged, unmoved by this new information. “You didn’t get what you told our sorry excuse for a captain out of your textbooks, anyone could tell that. But a kid is still a kid.”
It would be no use trying to convince this man otherwise, Ky realised, arguing would be as futile as standing up to their captain had been, but, strangely, the thought was less unsatisfying that he would have expected. He’d known when he arrived as a recruit that he’d have to work to prove himself. Still feeling unusually brave, it finally dawned on him now he’d had longer to study his questioner properly why the man had looked familiar. “You’re called Sol Badguy, right? The bounty hunter Sir Kliff recently convinced to join the Order?” he asked. “I’ve heard about you from the other men.”
“I gotta reputation already, huh?” the man - Sol - replied. He didn’t sound greatly bothered by this either way.
“They say you never listen to orders, but you can still take down more Gears than a whole unit of most of the other men,” said Ky, which was little more than word-for-word what he’d been told.
Sol snorted again. “Not hard. Especially if we’re recruiting school kids these days.”
“I’m K…” Ky started, but that was as far as he got.
“Not interested,” Sol cut him off. “Hate collecting dead men’s names. Recruits don’t have much life expectancy here. You live through tonight, you can tell me after.” He dropped his cigarette, stubbed it out with a foot, and turned to head away. After only a couple of steps he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Kid or not you had that much right. That captain doesn’t have a fucking clue what he’s doing. It’s gonna be a massacre.” He almost sounded amused by it.
Ky could only stare in shock at his nonchalance in the face of such a proclamation. “Why… why didn’t you say anything? Surely if you have as much experience as they say, they’d…”
“What, listen to me? Not in this lifetime.” Sol gave him another toothy grin and walked away.
Ky wasn’t sure another coherent thought that went through his head between then and that evening.
ETA: On to Part 2