Campaign 11

“There is actually a certain sound frequency—or, rather, frequencies—that humans can hear but are unable to recognize.” A man in a white coat said. This man was seated with a large group of people of differing ages and, at the front of this group, were three distinct individuals: two young men and one young woman. “Although they are unable to discern what their ears receive, their brains are still affected by it.”

The man in the white coat opened a notebook and pulled out a disc player from his breast pocket.

“I will demonstrate to you. With the gifts I have given you, you should be able to notice quite easily,” said the man, “This first one is on a frequency that many ordinary people can hear.”

The disc player was turned on, and a string of words could be heard from the speakers. It was actually the man reciting lines from the Bible—the first chapter of the Book of Genesis.

“… And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light…”

After that, the man paused the recording.

“Everything was ordinary, right?” he asked the group, “The next few verses will now have the certain frequencies in them.”

He pushed on the ‘play’ button to resume the playback. This time, as he said, the effects were immediately recognized by the group of people.

“God s— tha— the ligh— was —d, —n— He s—par—te— the lig—t f—m t—e —ness.”

It was heard. The group of people heard the playback but was unable to recognize some parts of it. They understood the words, they understood the meanings, yet they were not able to recognize parts of it. One of the two young men at the front raised his hand.

“Excuse me, but, it was certain that I heard the words correctly,” said the young man, “How was I unable hear the rest of it? No, I mean, how do I explain this…? I don’t even understand what happened.”

The man smiled at the young man in front of him.

“It was at a frequency just on the borderline where we recognize it,” explained the man, “I h— to p—ice a lot be—re I co—d do it.” (I had to practice a lot before I could do it.)

The man no longer used the recording, and demonstrated the ability, live. With this, the group was surprised.

“Then, do you mean to teach this to us?” this time, it was the young woman who spoke, “How would this be of use to us?”

The other young man placed his hand on the young woman’s shoulder.

“Sister, you should be patient,” said the other young man, “An explanation would, naturally, be given.”

The man nodded.

“Like your brother said, I will give you a reason,” the man followed up, “Let us resume the playback because the next verses will have the other frequencies.”

“G—d ca—ed —e —ght ‘day,’ an— th— d—kne— He c—lled ‘n—t.’ —nd th—e was eve—g, and —ere wa— mo—ning—the —st day.”

This time, however, a change was felt. Their surroundings felt a bit brighter compared to before listening to the playback.

“What…?” said someone from the group, “Is it just me or did someone override the power supply?”

“It’s not just you,” said another, “the room has gotten brighter.”

“Genesis, chapter 1, verse 5 tells of the creation of light, morning and evening,” noted the second young man at the front, “Once the verse finished, our surroundings became brighter. Is this some sort of hypnotic suggestion?”

The man smiled.

“Excellent reasoning,” he said, “That is indeed what I mean to teach you and, with your gifts, should give a greater result than what I can deliver.”

●

It was the morning of the next day after Malachi revealed his hypnotic ability to his class. He was lying on his bed in the dormitories when he woke up from his sleep.

“My dreams still remind me of the past, huh?” he mumbled groggily, “Abilities… the gifts I received from Father and ‘Mother’ back then carried over to this life.”

He rose from his bed and sat on the edge, trying to stay awake. He let out a huge yawn as he scratched his stomach.

“What time is it right now?” he wondered as he looked at the clock, “Hmm, earlier than usual. Whatever.”

He stood up to prepare himself for the day. After a while, he was dressed in his uniform and he left the dormitories.

It was still dark outside when he woke up.

“Everybody is still… asleep,” he said as he looked around him, “The girls are… also asleep, but Arlianne should be waking up by now.”

Talking to himself in the middle of the dark night, he attracted the attention of another man. It was a guard that was patrolling the academy grounds.

“Who’s there? Oh, Your Hi—” The guard was about to address Malachi, but he rushed to cover the guard’s mouth.

“Hush! Don’t say my status out loud!” whispered Malachi to the guard, “I already know that you guys know about me, but you should already know that I don’t want others finding out about it! Why do you think I’m carrying my name as a Skaria instead of as a Perlas?”

Malachi looked around them to see if there were other people with them. Seeing that they were completely alone, he returned his attention to the guard.

“Understand?” he asked.

The guard nodded. Only then did Malachi release his hands from the guard’s mouth.

“Apologies, Yo— er…” the guard apologized, but was unsure of what to call Malachi.

“Just call me by my name,” clarified Malachi, “And, sheesh, stop tensing up, will you? I won’t punish you for something like this.”

“Affirmative, Sir Skaria,” said the guard, “Well, I shall resume my patrol. Good day.”

When the guard had left, the doors to the girls’ dormitories opened. A lone young woman went outside and found Malachi standing in front of the premises.

“Oh, a pervert has been caught,” said the young woman and she had a strange accent, “How will you explain yourself before I call for the guards?”

Malachi turned around and saw a young woman with fair skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair. She was, evidently, not a Perlasian but a foreigner. Malachi’s mind stilled momentarily as he stared at the foreign woman.

“Oh, those eyes,” said the foreign woman, “I see. You must be the rumored child of Skaria. The way you’re staring at me… don’t tell me, am I your target for your perverted desires? Perish your thoughts, knave. One cannot easily lay one’s hands on Imperial blood.”

Malachi raised a brow as he understood who she was.

“Ahem, correction, my foreign friend,” he argued, “I may be a pervert, but I have no intentions of going after you. I was merely waiting for my life companion to come out of the dormitories, and I didn’t even know we had a foreign visitor.”

The sharp eyes of the foreign woman twitched.

“Not going after me, you say?” she repeated, “You did not even deny being called a pervert. Do you mean that I am so ugly that you cannot fathom laying your hands on me?”

“Another correction,” added Malachi, “You are not ugly. In fact, I was merely surprised by your beauty that my mind stopped momentarily. Also, the fact that your appearance is vastly different compared to an ordinary Perlasian automatically means that you are a foreigner. Even if I am a pervert, I wouldn’t be so stupid to cause an international disaster, especially with you saying having ‘imperial’ blood.”

“Then, if I were an acquaintance of yours and a Perlasian, would you lay your hands on me?” wondered the foreign woman, “I ask since you do not deny being a pervert.”

“Of course not,” answered Malachi, “I may be a pervert, but I already have someone I love. And the one I love is standing right behind you.”

The foreign woman raised a brow, and suddenly turned around. Behind her, she found Arlianne walking towards Malachi with a frown.

“Malachi, what are you doing in front of our dormitory so early in the morning?” asked Arlianne, “And what in the world were you talking about with the exchange student?”

“Oh, Arlianne, the sweetest flower in my garden!” exclaimed Malachi, “How I wished to see your beautiful splendor as the morning sky bleeds from my sorrows of not seeing you aga—ow, ow, ow! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Arlianne grabbed Malachi’s face to stop him from going stupid in front of another person. With the strength of her grip, Malachi immediately understood when to stop. The foreign woman stared at the incomprehensible exchange before her.

Arlianne released Malachi from her grip and turned to the foreign woman.

“Miss Li, let me apologize for his behavior,” she said as she bowed, “I hope your first day as a student in the academy wouldn’t be ruined by the mouth of this man behind me.”

Li, the foreign woman, silently looked at Arlianne before turning around and returning to the dormitory. Arlianne watched her until the doors had closed, then turned her attention to Malachi who was standing with a smirk on his face.

“An exchange student, huh?” he said, “Interesting. So this Miss Li is from the empire up north?”

“Yes, Miss Li, Miss Erika Li, is a noble’s daughter from a branch of the Imperial family,” explained Arlianne, “She was supposed to arrive next week, but it seems she was interested to see what the academy could offer her. She will be staying in the dormitories until the papers for her transfer are completed.”

“I wonder how she will fare with the heat of the desert?” he said, “A large chunk of the empire should be ridiculously cold, right? There isn’t a good way to measure temperature in this world yet, but I assume it would be enough to freeze water.”

“A valid question,” she said, “Now, Malachi, what were you doing in front of our dormitories in the first place, and so early in the morning?”

“I just woke up, is all,” He answered, “I also have these days when I suddenly wake up at impossible hours.”

As Malachi and Arlianne conversed as they left the dormitories, Erika was watching them with narrowed eyes from the window of her room.

“Malachi Skaria, the so-called Genius of Perlas,” she mumbled, “Hmph, there is a fine line between being a genius and being a complete fool, and I hope you can deliver once the time comes for your disgrace.”

Erika closed the curtains of her window, and went back deeper into her room.

In another room of the girls’ dormitories was another young woman waking up. She turned on her bed to look at the clock by the bedside. Once she saw the time, she rose from her bed and greeted an item next to the clock.

“Good morning,” she said.

She brought the item to her chest and embraced it. The item was a pair of goggles with a broken strap, and was held tightly by her until she was fully awake. Afterwards, she stared lovingly at the item, stroked it, and spoke a few words with a soft smile.

“I hope, this time, I will be able to tell you how I really feel.”

●

Once classes had begun for the day, Malachi had Arlianne accompany their class to do the usual routine.

“Arlianne, have our class do the exercises as usual, but exempt the ones who did well yesterday,” he said, “I’m leaving for the armory to talk with our class engineers.”

Once Malachi arrived at the armory, he directly went to their assigned section of the armory with a bag on his back. Like all the other classes’ sections, their assigned section had a siege engine and a number of steam knights on standby. Newly added in their section were also Malachi’s new weapons that were placed in crates, neatly stacked at one side of the room.

A young woman with a clipboard was looking over the crates, and was writing something down about them.

“Yo, Ms. Croix, go on a date with me,” greeted Malachi, “I have something I need to talk to you about.”

The young woman, Margaret, froze in place and her face flushed red.

“E-e-excuse me?!” she shrieked, “W-w-why me?!”

Margaret turned to Malachi like a broken machine, twitching with each movement from her surprise. Malachi approached her without a care and held her arm. Once he touched her, Margaret tore away from him and retreated.

“N-n-no!” she cried.

“Oh, do you hate me?” wondered Malachi, “I see. Guess I’ll just ask Mr. Kingston or Asher to procure some goods.”

“N-n-no, it’s just… I’m not ready for love and all that, and I was surprised to hear it from you, and-and-and don’t you have Arlianne already, I mean, why me of all people, we don’t even know each other that well, oh my, oh my, what will I do if father hears about this, ohh… what to do? What to do?” Margaret went into her own world.

“Uh, Ms. Croix, the date part was merely a greeting from me,” explained Malachi, “Don’t panic so much and take me so seriously.”

Margaret stilled and stared at Malachi with wide eyes.

“Forgive me for the joke,” he apologized, “I didn’t mean you any insult.”

Margaret’s lips quivered and tears welled up her eyes. She went up to him and pounded him with her fists.

“Ooh! That was bad, Malachi!” she scolded him, “You shouldn’t do that uncaringly!”

“Hahaha, I’m sorry,” he apologized again, “But, if I may be honest, you really are cute when you are angry. When Arlianne’s angry, she’s scary, but in a good way.”

Margaret stopped her assault but was trembling from Malachi’s comment.

“D-d-do I not have to take this seriously as w-w-well?” she stuttered.

“Hmm, you can,” he answered, “But, it is true that you are cute. Hope you get a good guy—better than me, of course—someday.”

Margaret was still staring at the floor, but Malachi raised his hand and placed it on her head.

“Still, it is true that you are cute in my eyes,” he added with a grin, “You, as well as the other girls in the class.”

Then, another person entered the area.

“Milord, what are you doing to Margaret?” It was Asher, “Do you need something from us?”

Malachi turned his attention to the only Eskur engineer in his class, Asher Skosti, and left Margaret. Margaret looked up and pouted from Malachi’s comments about her, and returned her attention to her previous task.

“Nothing, Asher, just complimenting Ms. Croix,” explained Malachi, “And, yes, I need something from you guys. Do you think you could secure a good supply of ‘cites for me?”

Asher arrived in front of Malachi.

“’Cites? Pyrocites, milord?” clarified Asher, “We can probably secure a supply line depending on the budget, but wouldn’t it be better to ask Chief Ashwald for this?”

“Not just pyrocites, but also glacites and electrocites,” said Malachi, “Also, I don’t want to give Remi any more burden than what I’m already given her and her engineers. They’re already responsible for manufacturing most of what I’ve requested from them. This time, I intend to utilize you guys as well.”

“Um, how much do you need, milord?” asked Asher.

“As much as you can,” answered Malachi, “If you need money, here is some capital. Afterwards, I’ll give you some blueprints for items you can create and make money from.”

Malachi handed Asher a case of money. Asher looked inside and found a large amount of large coins.

“Uh, let’s see… 11, 12, 13, 14-thousand!?” Exclaimed Asher, “How did you get this much money, milord?!”

Malachi shrugged.

“Do you know where the stoves and zipper backpacks came from?” he asked, “The ones that exploded in popularity out of nowhere years ago and you are all using right now.”

Asher recalled some past memories.

“I heard that they came from an Eskur village close to the capital,” he mumbled, “The Eqari merchants were scrambling for the rights of selling them… wait, milord, do you mean to say?”

“Eyup, that’s-a me,” said Malachi, “I made those things, though I never sold any rights and the designs were just pirated from me. I have other stuff I can have you guys sell to make money.”

“But that would make you… eight, nine years old back then?” cut Margaret in, “You really are a genius machinist, like Chief Ashwald.”

“Er, ‘genius’?” repeated Malachi, “I get that my creations are revolutionary, but I wouldn’t call myself a genius. Once you get an understanding of how things work, and how they should work, you can create anything. Anyway, once you get a hold of a supply line, I’ll give you the blueprints to create some consumer products.”

“Konshoomer?” repeated both Asher and Margaret.

“Consumer, people who buy certain products,” explained Malachi, “Eh, a merchant could tell you more. It is what they are good at, after all.”

“All right, milord. Is that all you need?” asked Asher.

“No, I still need to talk to the other engineers in our class,” added Malachi, “Can you call for them?”

●

“Here are all the engineers of Class 13, milord,” said Asher.

Along with Asher and Margaret were eight other men and women: the Giba twins, the Trias brothers, a bald and scarred man—Garret, and three more young women—Olivia, Simone, and Ritva. Class 13 had a total of 10 engineers assigned to them.

“So, can everybody drive an engine?” asked Malachi.

“Yes, milord,” answered Asher, “If the need arises, each one of us can operate any machine regardless of circumstance.”

“Good to know,” commented Malachi, “I have an assignment for you all. Please take these books to read, and make sure you are able to understand what is written in them.”

Malachi handed to each one of them books from his bag. Each book was several pages thick and was comparable to the books found in the library.

“Um, these are…?” wondered the male twin, Felix, “Whoa.”

His twin sister, Felicia, reacted similarly from the contents of the books.

“Those are instruction manuals I’ve written about the new vehicles that I will have Remi produce,” explained Malachi, “Those vehicles are the reason for my earlier task, Asher. Although I have given them the blueprints for their production, the intricacy of the parts require their utmost attention. In those books are descriptions and illustrations about the new vehicles you will be operating.”

Each book had the following vehicle types: main battle tank, infantry-fighting vehicle, tank destroyer, mobile artillery, and mobile command.

“Main battle tanks, hereafter MBT, are the swords of the army. They are responsible for the majority of offensive combat in any operation,” explained Malachi, “MBTs have a balance of mobility, firepower, and defense compared to the other vehicle types.”

Each of the engineers found a page with an illustration on what the MBT looked like. Although Malachi called it a main battle tank, it closely resembled one of the late-World War II British Cruiser-type tanks: the Comet.

“Infantry fighting vehicles, hereafter IFVs, are specialized anti-infantry frontline transports,” continued Malachi, “These tanks are responsible for bringing troops to the frontlines no matter the condition of the battlefield, and are able to provide suppressing fire against enemy infantry or light anti-armor support.”

As they flipped the pages of the books, they eventually found an illustration of an IFV. Unlike the tank destroyer shown to Remi and the MBT, the IFV that Malachi was similar to the Cold War USA M113 armored personnel carrier. The only difference would be the presence of a 20-millimeter chain gun—instead of a 12.7-millimeter heavy machine gun—mounted on top of it.

“Tank destroyers, hereafter TDs, are specialized anti-armor tanks,” he continued, “These tanks are capable of punching through this thing’s armor with a single shot.”

Malachi pointed at the siege engine parked nearby.

“Although they have thinner armor than these siege engines, they have greater mobility and a lower profile,” he added, “That said, these TDs are perfect for hit-and-run and ambush operations.”

The TD that Malachi took inspiration from—the Soviet SU 100—was just half the size of the Perlasian siege engines. Although the gun was also half the caliber, their shell types were different. While the siege engine used ball ammunition fired from 200-millimiter smoothbore cannons, the TD used armor-piercing shells fired from 100-millimeter rifled cannons.

“Mobile artilleries, hereafter MArts, are trucks carrying mortar batteries,” he explained, “Because they lack armor, they are the lightest and fastest vehicles. Mortars are muzzle-loaded light cannons able to throw high-explosive projectiles at high angles and long ranges. Each truck can be outfitted with at least four mortars—to make room for a greater amount of ammunition—or eight mortars depending on the operation’s necessities.”

Again, there was a page that provided an illustration on the MArt. It was an ordinary truck, similar to the six- and eight-wheelers of modern Earth, except its truck bed had a battery of mortars as explained by Malachi.

“I thought about using rockets for the artillery, but I have no idea how to produce the propellants with the available resources,” commented Malachi, “For the time being, I settled for mortar batteries to deliver a similar effect. At least, compared to rocket batteries, mortars have a longer life.”

Margaret dropped her copy of the book.

“Why… why do you not consider yourself as a genius?” she inquired, “You have these things that we haven’t even heard of. We don’t even know if Chief Ashwald had thought of these yet, and she is the youngest prodigy we’ve known before you came.”

Malachi sighed.

“Because it is boring,” he explained, “Being at the top, with no one else, and everybody treating you differently from the rest… it is suffocating. Stop looking at me like a god. Besides, I’m pretty sure that there are people in the Empire, in Clan Skali, in the other nations and states, and from the nomads who are capable of this level of technology. I mean, I wasn’t the one who created the rest of what we have now. I didn’t create the radio, although I could improve it. I didn’t create the fusils and repeaters, although I improved them. I also didn’t create the steam knights and siege engines, although I can create better types from their designs.”

Class 13’s engineers silently looked at Malachi. A young woman, Olivia, turned the pages of her book and broke the silence.

“Then, Skaria, how do you explain this monstrosity?” she asked. Olivia was pointing at an illustration of a large vehicle, larger than the existing siege engine and, based on the measurements, as large as the armory section provided to them. “From the description you’ve written, this is a mobile base. I can’t exactly imagine the scale of this thing.”

“Ah, yes. The mobile command center, hereafter MCC, is a concept of mine for extended operations,” explained Malachi, “If this is successful, future operations won’t require us to return to base—in this case, the academy or any army base—as often to rest and resupply. That will be put on hold for the time being, and what you see there are just my thoughts put onto paper since the MCC requires a large amount of resources to produce. Aside from resources, I still haven’t perfected the engines and motors that will move it.”

Looking at the illustration Malachi provided, only one idea came to mind: Land Dreadnought. It screamed of ideas about fictional land battleships that could be found in modern Earth’s science fiction. The only difference would be the lack of armaments—there were no cannons, neither guns nor self-defense weapons were present. Therefore, rather than a battleship, it was akin to a carrier—a land-based carrier.

The bald and scarred man, Garret, reacted upon seeing the MCC’s design.

“Huh, I’m certain I saw one of these things in the Eskur Uprising before,” he commented, “Yeah, Clan Skaria used one of these back then during the war, only it wasn’t this unarmed and had large cannons outfitted to its hull. The army had a tough time cracking it, and was only destroyed when its exhaust vents were smashed by our steam knights.”

Malachi looked at Garret then turned his gaze to Margaret.

“See, Marge, I’m not the only one with these kinds of ideas,” he said, “Man, I was hoping to surprise the hell out of the others. Maybe even make the Empire panic a bit.”

“The Empire of Taijun also has these things,” added another young woman, Simone, “I came from a merchant family, and we used to travel the world. The Empire fielded large vehicles like this when policing a region.”

Malachi stared at Simone.

“Are you serious? Oh, but they are sure to move slower than this, right?” he asked, “I made sure to put the word ‘mobile’ in there to assert its mobility.”

“How fast do you expect this MCC to be, anyway?” clarified Simone, “The Empire’s dreadnoughts are as fast as our siege engines.”

Malachi grinned.

“Oh, in that case, at least thrice,” he answered, “Thirty kilometers per hour should be fast enough.”