Chapter 29

I had a meeting the next day with Mr. Lloyd, the ambassador from the Allied Kingdom. When I had reached out to his office, he had agreed to see me at my earliest possible convenience. As Chancellor, I was used to people showing up quickly when I called, but usually the foreign ambassadors would drag their feet and engage in petty little power plays. I would have liked to think that he was a sports fan who was enthusiastic about the World Cup, but usually I wasn't that lucky.

As I'd feared, Mr. Lloyd seemed to have a lot on his mind as he stepped into my office. The usually reticent ambassador even took the initiative in opening the substantive discussion.

"The Allied Kingdom has not changed its position regarding Imperial unification," he said. "We still stand behind the Treaty of Londinium."

"Of course," I replied. "I do as well."

I was relieved that his concerns were over something so easy to resolve.

"If need be," he began, then paused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Did somebody announce a plebiscite?" I asked. "I keep telling them it's a bad time."

The Ildoan Civil War, and the Allied Kingdom's insistence on neutrality, had sent shock waves through Europe's diplomatic community. On the bright side, Dacia had finally been pushed off the fence and had officially sealed its alliance to Germania. We had long since finished the preparations for the pipeline and had set to building it with a will. We'd soon be out of the embarrassing situation of facing national disaster if the Unified States ever imposed an oil embargo.

On the less bright side, many of the other Imperial successor states had decided that this was a fine time to run plebiscites attempting to reunite with Germania. I had half expected it from Pullska, Hungary, and Czechoslovakia, considering their eastern neighbor. Daneland was a surprise, but it turned out that they had been tying themselves more and more tightly to our economy as the Great Depression wound on. They also found the Legadonian military a bit lacking. At least Lothiern had shown an admirable streak of independence and seemed content to stand on their own.

All in all, it was disappointing. I had thought professional politicians and diplomats would be better at reading the mood. The Allied Kingdom had flexed its muscles over Ildoa and obviously wasn't willing to tolerate any changes to the map of Europe at the moment.

Also, technically speaking, the only reason Germania was permitted to rearm was thanks to the Treaty of Londinium. It wasn't a treaty that had been imposed on us, but a treaty that I had freely sought out and signed. I didn't appreciate having my hard work undermined, even if the widespread enthusiasm for joining our country was flattering. It would be even worse if they had decided to go ahead with their plebiscites even after I advised against it.

Mr. Lloyd looked a bit surprised by my question. To his credit, he soon returned to his usual even-keeled demeanor.

"No," he said. He paused for a long moment, then sighed. "I'm sorry, I thought you called me here to discuss the treaty."

I smiled, glad for the chance to change the subject to something more productive.

"I wanted to discuss a far more immediate concern," I said. "The World Cup!"

He cocked his head in curiosity. "What about it?"

"I'm told that Albion's team has a standing invitation," I said, "but they don't intend to participate."

"Yes, I believe our football association's president has stated that the Allied Kingdom's tournament will provide better competition," he replied.

The Allied Kingdom's arrogance on the subject of football was grating, but they had the skill to back it up. In an exhibition game against an all-Europe all star team a few years ago, the Albish national team had won by four goals. Germanian players hadn't been invited to participate, but it wasn't like they would have made much of a difference. I knew I wouldn't be able to talk their team into coming by touting the level of competition.

"And he's certainly not interested in helping a Francois organization promote itself as the world's authority on football," I said. I couldn't blame him. In my limited dealings with Robert Guerrant, the so-called international football association's president, I'd found my patience sorely tested.

"Quite right," Mr. Lloyd said.

As expected, dislike of the Francois was a useful tool to build international understanding. I felt a little bad about using the same trick over and over again, but it did keep working.

"Well, do you think you could persuade the team to come to the tournament this year?" I asked.

"The football association is a private organization," Mr. Lloyd said, shaking his head. "I'm afraid His Majesty's government can't simply order them around."

"Persuade, I said persuade," I said, gesturing with my hands for emphasis. "I have a feeling they will listen to you with a more open mind than they would if I were to write them."

He seemed curious about where I was going with this line of argument. "What do you want to tell them?"

"First, as to the practical matters," I said. "Germania will be providing housing and practice facilities for every team that attends the World Cup. We will cover the lost salary suffered by any non-professional footballers. Finally, every team will be provided with a dirigible for travel to Germania."

I had implemented these policies in an attempt to boost participation from South America, but they might also help entice the Albish into attending. Really, the infrastructure around international sporting competitions was just too primitive. While there was a certain charm in the idea that a national level player would avoid the World Cup because he wanted to keep his day job, it would be a shame to let that kind of thing deprive the spectators of the sight of true competition between the world's best.

I had been a little nervous about the dirigible construction. Fortunately, the Bützow Company had developed the ability to turn out the things in job lots during the war. They'd been making them one at a time recently in order to test out the civilian market, but in the face of a large order they were able to reactivate their old capabilities and churn out airships at a rapid pace. Which was fortunate, as they were also a big factor in my plans to put a good show on TV.

"Quite generous," Mr. Lloyd replied.

"It's our duty to be a good host," I said. "Besides, the cost isn't all that much in the overall scheme of things."

Providing first class treatment to a few hundred people really wasn't much of a burden in the context of a big time event like this. I had no interest in harming our international image by trying to count pfennigs under the eyes of the world. It would have been nice if lavish benefits were sufficient to entice the Albish team into coming to Germania.

"However, I suspect solving the practical problems won't be enough," I said. "So let me ask you this: are the Albish inherently superior at football?"

The heart of their refusal to participate had to do with the quality of the competition. While it was true that their team was superior, I didn't think that they had really thought the whole situation through before they adopted their policy of splendid isolation.

"How do you mean?"

"Do the Albish as a people have some sort of inborn ability that lets them run faster, jump higher, and play better than anybody else?" I asked. "Or do you enjoy an advantage right now because your nation invented the sport and has spent more time on it?"

Football had been the national sport of Albion for nigh on a century or more, depending on how you figured the history. It stood to reason that they would be better at it than other nations who had only been playing the game for a few decades. It also stood to reason that others would catch up eventually. Of course, I could work through this chain of reasoning more easily than most thanks to the unfair advantage of having watched England get knocked out of the World Cup every four years like clockwork in my previous life.

"I suppose having a head start must have helped," Mr. Lloyd allowed.

"Exactly! But that sort of head start will be used up sooner or later," I said. "Whether it's the World Cup or some new event, there will always be international football. In the future, you might not be able to win even if you wanted to. So, isn't it better to win some trophies now, so you at least have something to look back on with pride?"

The Empire had a long history showing the value of bullying people when you were on top. The best part about doing it in sporting competitions was that you got to keep the trophies afterwards even when you started losing.

"An interesting chain of reasoning," Mr. Lloyd allowed.

"Alternatively, if you really have it in for Monsieur Guerrant, the best way to ruin his fun isn't to stay out of the event," I said. "You should enter, and crush everybody. Crowds will eventually lose interest in a lopsided competition, and the World Cup will wither and die."

Really, the standoffish approach adopted by the Albish team was the worst of both worlds. No glory for them, and no humiliation for their enemies.

"That's quite something to hear from the event's host," Mr. Lloyd said.

"As long as this World Cup is successful," I said, waving a hand dismissively, "I don't really care about the next one."

The most important thing was making sure that I, and my country, weren't embarrassed on the international stage. The first entrance by the Albish team into an international competition would draw a tremendous amount of attention. By the next tournament it would be old news, but putting on a good tournament four years from now would be somebody else's problem.

"Well, I'll pass along your arguments to our football association," Mr. Lloyd said. "Although I really can't guarantee any results."

"That's all I can ask for," I said. "As for those countries seeking reunification..."

I trailed off, trying to think how to express my thoughts. Mr. Lloyd's expression noticeably cooled at the change in topic.

"Yes?"

"Please don't be too harsh on them," I said. "After all, look at things from their point of view."

I thought the other successor states were foolish to even broach the subject of reunification, but I hoped that the Allied Kingdom could find it in their hearts to let the faux pas slide. The last thing the world needed was tension arising between countries that should all be fighting on the same side against communism in defense of human freedom.

"They're staring down three million men in the Red Army, hardened veterans from the war in the east," I continued. "On their side of the equation, they have some border fortifications and your guarantee."

To be fair, the fortifications along Pullska's border were well designed and well built. Heavy artillery sighted in on prepared killing fields, machine guns entrenched in strategic locations, even underground tunnels in areas to allow movement from one hard point to the next. Czechoslovakia was working on bringing their eastern border up to snuff, so that the Rus wouldn't be able to simply drive around the Pulish defenses. It was an impressive force multiplier. Still, given the disparity in manpower and industrial capacity, a mere force multiplier wouldn't be enough to hold the commies at bay forever.

"I suppose it would feel precarious," Mr. Lloyd allowed.

The fundamental problem was that the Allied Kingdom was taking on the commitments of a hegemon, but they obviously still considered themselves a naval power first and foremost. They had recently raised their naval spending up close to war time levels without any corresponding increase in spending on their army. For them, of course, the navy could keep foreign armies away from their shores. For their allies and protectorates, though, it would be cold comfort to know that Albion was safe as the Red Army marched through eastern Europe.

"I had hoped that the international community could come together to provide security for small, threatened nations," I said. "But considering the Francois intransigence, the only path left to stabilize the situation is unilateral action."

It would have been nice if I could have talked the other parties to the Treaty of Londinium into an amendment that would allow for a targeted anti-communist military alliance. Considering de Lugo's attitude in Amstreldam, that was obviously off the table. The next best thing would be for the Allied Kingdom to make a serious commitment to Pullska's independence.

It was only fair that the Allied Kingdom be expected to maintain a larger army if they wanted to dictate the behavior of the countries of Europe. Even if they didn't match the size of the Red Army, if they could at least station some men in Pullska it would be valuable proof of their willingness to go to war in order to stop communist aggression. It would also, conveniently, protect Germania's eastern border from the Russy Federation.

It wouldn't be diplomatic to come right out and demand that Albion spend more money in order to provide for Germania's security. However, there was nothing wrong with pointing out the reality of the situation and allowing Mr. Lloyd to draw the natural conclusion.

He gave me a serious look. "What do you plan to do in eastern Europe, exactly?"

"Me? Nothing," I said. "I won't interfere with anybody who decides to do me a favor."

I was happy to give Albion the green light to intervene in Pullska. The more countries that put armies between me and the Rus, the better.

"I will repeat your message to my superiors," he said, "although just as with the football association, I can make no guarantees."

"Of course," I said. "Diplomacy is a tricky business."

As much as their attitude could drive me up the wall, an active and assertive Allied Kingdom was perhaps the best hope for lasting peace in Europe. If the restraint they insisted on in Ildoa was the price to pay for an Albish army in Pullska, that would be a good bargain. It was almost enough to make me pray that their appeasement caucus would be sidelined in the future. Instead of that, though, I'd just have to rely on reason and self-interest to direct their foreign policy to our mutual benefit.

ooOoo

I had another big meeting later in the afternoon. Back when I was working my way up the ladder, I had always imagined that life at the top would involve a lot of lounging around, pushing work and blame onto other people while stealing credit for myself. I certainly never envisioned that there would be so many meetings. Come to think of it, life in the military had also involved a lot of meetings. At least back then I had enjoyed regular outdoor excursions, albeit with the occasional risk of enemy artillery.

Bah, the pressure really was getting to me if I was feeling nostalgic for front line duty. I shook my head and took hold of myself as Elya knocked on the door and escorted my guests into the room.

Visha was present, of course, as she was for everything related to the staging of the World Cup. Zettour as well, both to bring him up to speed on new technology and to give him time to prepare for the inevitable issues of diplomacy that would accompany international broadcasting. Finally, our special guests: August Karolus and Georg Alexander, the CEO and Chief Technical Director, respectively, of Telefunken, the Germanian television corporation.

I welcomed my guests and called the meeting to order. Considering the press of events, we didn't have time to waste on small talk. Fortunately, both of the men from Telefunken were professional engineers, the sort of men who were happy to get straight to business.

"I was very impressed when I saw your device for the first time," I said. "I believe the television has more potential than even you may have realized."

However grandiose their dreams for television might be, I doubted they could come close to the reality I had witnessed back in the twenty first century.

"Thank you, Chancellor," they replied, almost synchronized.

"Now, I understand that the television signal is transmitted as a type of radio wave," I said. "So it may be broadcast through the air or carried on a wire?"

The two men looked at each other for a moment before Alexander replied. "That's correct."

I smiled. I knew that in the modern world, television could be sent in all sorts of ways. It was a relief to discover that the key building blocks already existed, even in these primitive times.

"Excellent. I want the World Cup to be broadcast to every city in Germania," I said, "and to the capital of every participating country!"

The two looked at each other again. This time, they seemed much less enthusiastic about contributing their expertise. Finally, Karolus took the lead.

"Chancellor, the broadcast signal can only be viewed up to a hundred kilometers away," he said.

"The signals don't follow the curvature of the earth," Alexander explained. "With a transmitter particularly high up, it might be able to reach one hundred and twenty kilometers."

"Right. Ideally, we would bounce the signal off of a satellite in geosynchronous orbit," I said. "But we can make do with what we have."

In my wilder planning sessions, I had considered asking Dr. Schugel to put together a rocket capable of launching a communications satellite into space. Unfortunately, getting something into orbit still left a lot of difficult work to be done before you had a functioning broadcast system. I also had the unsettling feeling that Schugel would find a way to kick off a war if I let him start playing around with rockets again.

I pushed those thoughts out of my mind and unrolled a map of Germania. Taking a marker, I began drawing circles around the areas with significant population. I did my best to give each circle a radius of a hundred kilometers on the map. It didn't take as many as I had feared to get most of the country covered.

"For broadcast within Germania, we would start with one central station that is connected by wire to subsidiary broadcasters," I said. "Based on a hundred kilometer radius, perhaps ten or twenty stations would cover most of the country. I'll leave it to you to work out the optimal arrangement."

I couldn't delegate all of my work, but I could still push quite a bit of it onto other people. When you did that sort of thing as a subordinate, it was called shirking. As the boss, it was called leadership.

"Of course, it would be impractical to lay a cable all the way out to the Unified States," I said. "That limit of a hundred kilometers... how would it change if the broadcast platform and receiving antenna were five thousand meters in the air?"

Alexander, bless his heart, pulled out a pad of paper and began working through the trigonometry problem. I stayed quiet and let him work. It didn't take nearly as long as I feared before he finished writing and looked up from his work.

"In that case, a signal might stretch three or four hundred kilometers."

Not bad. I did some mental math of my own and started to think that this just might work. We'd have an awful lot of dirigibles left over at the end of the World Cup, but that was a problem for the future.

"We will be producing a great many airships over the next few months," I said. "What I require from you is a signal repeater that can be carried aloft and operate for hours at a time."

"You mean to build a chain of zeppelins to stretch across the ocean?" Alexander asked.

"Exactly," I replied.

He exchanged another look with his boss. "When a signal is repeated that many times, the quality will be degraded."

"I understand. I only ask that you do your best to built the repeater so that it reproduces the signal faithfully while filtering out noise produced in transmission," I said. "Pioneering efforts are always a challenge. To some extent, the world should be impressed that we've made the effort, even if the final result is imperfect.

Nobody cared if the dancing bear at the circus danced well. It was enough that it danced at all. If we could broadcast live video all the way across an ocean, I didn't think anybody would quibble about the quality. At least not for the first few weeks.

I had always figured that the overseas portion of my broadcast plan was a bit of a long shot. I certainly wouldn't be announcing it to the public until we had done enough of the technical work to be sure it was possible. Still, we wouldn't know what was possible until we tried. Besides, even if we couldn't get a signal all the way across the ocean, the effort put in might produce other worthwhile technology.

I turned to address Visha. "All this equipment will put a dent in the committee's budget, but it will give us a tremendous amount of control over how the world sees the World Cup, and, in turn, Germania. As they say, seeing is believing."

The ultimate purpose of our television broadcast was to fool the viewing public. Our stadiums would be rush jobs. Our tourism industry completely untested at hosting such a large event. Our cuisine would be, well, our cuisine. None of that would matter as long as we could make everything look good on TV.

A healthy dose of television magic would have foreign audiences convinced that we were knocking everything out of the park. By the time newspaper reports came back that revealed the ugly truth, that first impression would already be set in place. How did the saying go? A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on. I'd just be helping it on its way.

"The television set that I saw didn't look that impressive," Visha said, "but if people around the world could see our work on display all at the same time, that would be amazing."

I could always trust Visha to put a positive spin on things. Of course, she didn't have the broad experience to compare our efforts to the kind of spectacle that could be put on by a real economic powerhouse like the Allied Kingdom or the Unified States. That was fine. She was doing the best she could. The deficiencies we needed to spackle over were due to the compressed schedule, not any problem with her efforts. I was happy to cover up our inevitable failings without rubbing Visha's nose in what we were doing.

I nodded. "Also, you should get that budget back as soon as the Diet approves funding for the Public Television Broadcast project."

"Public television?" she asked.

"It should be very useful for the government to have the ability to broadcast video throughout the country," I said. "The World Cup has given us a deadline and a convenient source of short term funds, but this was something we would have done eventually no matter what."

It would be a hassle to get another funding bill through the Diet so soon after they had splashed out for the World Cup, but our party's majority was substantial enough that even a few defectors wouldn't stop a bill from being passed. In the mean time, we could get things started under the theory that we were promoting the World Cup. It was even sort of true.

"As you say," Zettour said, "seeing is believing."

I nodded. As expected, Zettour was quick to see the possibilities. Despite his age, he was always looking at the world with fresh eyes. I could see from his expression that he was already considering how a state owned broadcast network could be used by the government as a propaganda organ. It was true that it would be a formidable tool for social control.

However, Zettour didn't have the advantage of my future experience. He couldn't possibly anticipate how exposure to television broadcasts would gradually transform naive viewers into sophisticated consumers of the news. Or, in other words, into cynical bastards. By starting a public broadcasting network as quickly as possible, I would get that process started. That way, by the time I finally extricated myself from the Chancellor's position, there should be several competing private stations as well as the public network, all broadcasting to a skeptical audience.

I didn't want anybody coming up behind me to create their own cult of personality using broadcast television. Inoculating the public against that kind of thing was a useful side effect of my efforts to put the best possible spin on our World Cup.

"You'll have your share of work to do as well," I said.

"Broadcast rights and broadcast sites," Zettour said.

It was going to be a tremendous hassle to arrange. Exactly the sort of task that I was thrilled to slough off on a subordinate. In more advanced countries, he would be trying to fit our broadcast plans into existing regulatory regimes. Not an easy task, but at least relatively straightforward. In more primitive countries, he would have to guide them in the creation of a regulatory regime in the first place before securing a license. Or he could just bribe somebody to let our particular broadcast go out sans regulation. Honestly, I wouldn't be looking too closely into how he got the job done.

"All over the world," I said, nodding again. "Although, in the countries with only a few television sets, we may be able to do a more focused broadcast straight from the dirigibles."

"Should I plan on finding a place for the television sets as well?"

"I'd prefer that such things happen as private transactions," I said. "But I suppose it would be a good idea to provide a demonstration set or two for local big shots and their friends to use."

It was hard to sell somebody a television set in a country with no television broadcasts. Conversely, it was hard to justify the expense of a television broadcast when nobody owned television sets. I hoped that by providing a demonstration of the technology, along with a little cash, we could jump start the process.

There were a few more things to discuss, largely having to do with staffing for our nascent public broadcasting service and the logistical challenges in shipping television sets all over the world, but no major problems popped up. It still remained to be seen what sort of technical problems would arise in the future. Still, with everybody on board with the project and a general understanding of our goal, the plan to pull the wool over the eyes of the viewing public was off to a good start.

ooOoo

I had one more meeting the next day to close out the week. This meeting, though, wouldn't see me cooped up in my office. No, I would be traveling for this one. Dr. Schugel had finally announced the completion of the next generation computation orb. I didn't care for the man, but I could admit that I was curious about his work. I'd want to see the orb for myself even if it wasn't part of my job.

The testing facility was tucked away in the countryside of eastern Germania. An easy trip for an aerial mage. I was accompanied by the officers of the 203rd. Neumann, Koenig, and Weiss all had a professional interest in the new orb. As it was a Schugel product, I had insisted on a final layer of safety checks after the test pilots had signed off on the orb: if any one of us had a problem with the orb after a test flight, we could send it back to be reworked.

Ordinarily, Visha would have come along for something like this, but she was swamped with work for the World Cup. I felt a little bad about it but, well, better her than me.

We landed in a small field that had been cleared in front of the research facility. Somewhat to my surprise, we were met there by Dr. Fischer. While he had done good work for us over the years, I hadn't expected Dr. Schugel to be gracious enough to share the spotlight in a moment like this with anybody else.

"Is Dr. Schugel still in the lab?" I asked.

"Ah, no," Dr. Fischer said, before pausing to clear his throat. "When he delivered the finished blueprints, he said that the only way to create the next generation of computation orb after this will be divine inspiration."

I frowned.

"So," Dr. Fischer continued, seeing my confusion, "he left to find a mountaintop and pray."

I sighed. A single exposure to Being X had completely warped Schugel's mind. No, no, I'd known him before. Schugel had been pre-warped. Before, though, he had at least been able to comply with military regulation. These days, it was only my good nature that kept him from a court martial.

I did take some satisfaction at the thought of having his pay frozen until he came back from his pilgrimage.

"Did he at least finish the other projects before he disappeared?"

As it turned out, he had. First, In addition to producing a greatly improved version of the Type 97, Schugel and his team had increased the sensitivity of our magic detection equipment. This didn't help much against completely stealthy casting, but the work of the professionals had long since exceeding my initial fumblings into covert magic.

The scientists now divided casting into three categories. First was the ordinary, full emission casting that was still the standard for other nations. Second was the fully stealthy methodology that I had developed, which was useful but limited in scope. Third was reduced emission casting that had resulted when they applied the methods of stealth casting to spells that were too powerful to be done with complete stealth. Colloquially, this was referred to as loud, silent, and quiet casting, respectively.

The new detectors more or less offset the advantage of quiet casting. As long as we maintained our technological advantage, we would be able to detect foreign mages from farther away than usual, while our mages would be able to get closer than usual before being detected. Of course, developing this type of technology was a race that never ended. It would have been nice if Schugel could have kept his nose to the grindstone and contributed to the work of continual refinement, but on the other hand it was probably a good idea to have more grounded scientists developing the devices that would be rolled out for use by actual soldiers.

The scientists had also finished up my little side project, a dedicated sporting orb. My attempts to organize a demonstration of aerial lacrosse had met with limited success. The Allied Kingdom, Unified States, Francois Republic, Legadonia Entente, and we ourselves would be participating in a round robin of exhibition matches to be played before World Cup games. That was all well and good.

Where I'd run into problems had been in developing a standardized orb. I thought that it made sense in order for the game to be fair that everybody should be using the same orb. However, the other nations seemed intent on turning the game into a showcase for their magical technology. It wouldn't be a problem now, but who could say what cutting edge military orbs would be capable of in twenty years? I thought there ought to be limits in order to promote the game.

I hoped that if we developed our own sporting orb and had success with it, then other nations might be willing to adopt it as the standard. To that end, I had asked that the scientists start with an orb built to the specifications of the captured Francois unit, tighten up the flight module a bit, and take out anything that wasn't used in aerial lacrosse. The resulting orb should be reasonably competitive. The first batch had already been produced and was on its way to the magical academy for the cadets to use in their aerial lacrosse games.

All of that was just a sideshow for the main event, though. The long awaited successor to the Type 97 had finally been declared fit for duty. I was eager to see if it stood up to Dr. Schugel's claims.

It didn't look like much. When Dr. Fischer's assistant brought out four computation orbs, neatly arranged on a small cushion, I thought at first that he had mistakenly grabbed some Type 97s off the shelf. That lackluster first impression vanished as soon as I picked one of the orbs up.

Pushing just a little bit of mana through the new Type 99 was enough to demonstrate that it was a whole new animal. The mana flowed, smooth and easy, with barely any direction from me. I estimated that the overall mana flow capacity was at least half again as much as the Type 97.

Even more intriguing than the updates to the hardware, though, were the changes to the software. I could feel that this orb provided access to all of the silent casting capabilities of the H-class, allowing for stealth operations with a front line orb. However, that wasn't the limit of the changes. The whole combat suite had been completely redone.

The four of us lifted off the ground, eager to try out the new changes. I gave Dr. Fischer a friendly wave, ignoring his complaint that we hadn't done the safety briefing. I had survived working directly for Dr. Schugel for months. Having a test pilot between myself and his raw work product was a luxury.

I could feel the difference in the flight spell as soon as I was in the air. As I flew up through the low lying clouds, I was using noticeably less mana than usual. Part of the process of reducing the spell's mana signature must have involved making the spell itself more efficient. A quick round of tests revealed that the whole spell suite had received a similar level of optimization.

Once we were all up above the cloud layer and comfortable with the basic operation of the orb, it was time for more rigorous testing in the form of a game of aerial tag. Besides proving an entertaining diversion, two facts were soon established. First, my small stature and complete trust in body enhancement spells meant that, despite their own improvement, none of the men could keep up with me in tests of agility. Second, the improvement to the combat spells had its limits.

While the spells were more efficient and the orb could handle a higher mana load, these two factors didn't quite compound as I had hoped. Each spell had a mana ceiling close to its ceiling in the Type 97. So performance was improved, but only due to the efficiency. The orb's overall mana capacity came into play while multi tasking. The Type 99 could keep up multiple spells with a level of comfort and ease that left the Type 97 in the dust. While it couldn't keep up with the raw power of the Type 95, it did have capabilities that my Being X-cursed orb lacked.

Eventually, the aerial tag started to get boring. That was when I announced that we were starting the speed trials, picked a direction, and took off as fast as I could.

I quickly blasted through the Type 97's top speed of 350 miles per hour. When I hit the mana cap on the flight spell and settled in at a steady pace, I was traveling at 400 miles per hour. It was impressive. In a way, though, it was a little disappointing. When I'd first taken flight and sensed the potential of the Type 99, I'd harbored hopes that this might be the world's first supersonic orb.

Pegging the needle at 400 miles per hour was hardly taxing my own mana capacity. I frowned, idly watching the blanket of clouds below me as I focused on taking a deeper look at the flight module.

It was the complicated machinations of the flight module that made flight feel like the simple application of force in the direction you wanted to travel. There was a reason flight was nearly impossible before the advent of the computation orb. I couldn't spin up a military grade flight spell from scratch. I might be able to tweak the provided spell around the edges, though.

The structure of the spell created by the flight module had a component that was analogous to the engine on an airplane. It took in mana and generated force. This was the limiting factor for speed, as it could only use so much mana. I couldn't improve on the magical engine. It had, after all, been developed through months of hard scientific labor. With the right mental tweak, though, I could copy it, and wire it into the spell so that I was now effectively operating off of two engines.

At first, there was no change. Then I realized that I had left the flight module's overall mana limiter in place. I ripped that out, replacing it with the equivalent of a penny in a burned out fuse. Then I poured on the power.

I let out a whoop as I surged ahead of the other three. Neumann called out something, but I ignored him to focus on keeping the flight spell stable. As I'd hoped, adding in a second engine had let me use more power. As I'd feared, I was wasting quite a bit of mana. I'd also probably thrown away any hope of keeping the spell at all quiet.

Still, none of that could dampen my mood as I reached a speed of five hundred miles per hour. I had spent far too much time recently cooped up in my office. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been able to push myself like this. There wasn't even any enemy anti aircraft fire to worry about.

It was moments like this that I thought I could have been happy as a test pilot if not for Dr. Schugel and that damned Being X.

I had run into the limits of even my modified flight spell, though. Fortunately, having made the change once, it was simple enough to change it again. I slotted in a third engine and barely paused before pouring on the power and accelerating once more.

I was starting to feel the mana cost, now. The airflow around me was acting strangely, knocking at my shield and trying to throw me off course. I was also running into diminishing returns, again. This time I had topped out at five hundred and seventy five miles per hour.

I probably only had enough in me to power another two magical engines. Maybe three. I wasn't sure if that would be enough to get me through the sound barrier, but there was only one way to find out.

I was running through the changes I'd need to make in order to wedge in two more engines when the Type 99's mana output stuttered.

The flight spell that had been providing steady thrust suddenly gave me a shove to the side. At the same time, the shield spell that had been presenting an aerodynamic profile flickered off, letting the oncoming wind slam into my body. In an instant, I had gone from controlled flight to a wild, tumbling fall.

I saw the sky overhead, then the clouds below. Sky. Clouds. Sky. Clouds.

I fought down the rising nausea and focused my attention on the Type 99. I had to keep the spells going. The physical enhancement spell was the only thing keeping me alive. The overall mix of spells was the only thing keeping the orb in one piece. For the output to go crazy like this meant that the physical integrity of the orb was gone. An emergency shutdown would set it off like a bomb, right next to my body.

The blue sky flashed by in front of my eyes. Clouds again. Sky. Then I was surrounded by white as I plunged into the cloud.

I kept drawing down the power to the flight spell. I kept the physical enhancement powered up as much as I could. A little less power to the shield spell. A little less for flight. A little less, and I was almost to the point where I could shut the orb down safely.

Then I finally lost control of myself and vomited. At the same time, the connection to the Type 99 slipped away and I stopped feeding it any mana at all. A breathless moment later, I could feel heat radiating from where the Type 99 was attached to my flight suit, but it seemed the explosion had been defused. Our brand new orb wasn't going to kill me.

Of course, the fall still might.

Fortunately, I'd been in this situation before. I spun the Type 97 up to speed quickly, first ramping up a body reinforcement spell to tamp down the residual nausea and suppress the symptoms of whiplash that were already making themselves felt. Then I powered up the flight module's hover suite, gradually slowing my fall and damping down my momentum. A few nervous seconds later, I was hovering in place, still inside the cloud.

I decided it was probably best not to check my altitude. Instead, I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and cleaned myself up as best I could. That done, I began ascending up through the cloud to wait for Weiss, Neumann, and Koenig to catch up.

Now that the moment of crisis was over, I could also begin cursing my own foolishness. I had only recently listened sympathetically to General Richtoffer as he shared his fears that aerial combat was evolving faster than he could keep up. And yet I had thought that I could pick up where I left off and push the cutting edge of aerial magic just because I used to be a test pilot.

I wasn't out here every day putting in the flight time needed to stay on top of evolving technology. I was sitting in my office making sure we didn't stumble into another Great War. Which, admittedly, was important, but it certainly wasn't keeping my skills sharp. Not if I'd forgotten the basic fact that had been drilled into me after I melted the very first orb I was given: any orb would fail if you pushed too much mana through it. Limiters were put in place for a reason.

I should have treated this exercise like the simple demonstration that it obviously was, instead of clinging to past glories and trying to show off. From now on, I needed to leave this kind of thing to the professionals.

I had mostly gotten through cursing myself out by the time that the other three caught up. At least, I was able to present a calm facade in front of them.

"What happened?" Neumann asked, as soon as they'd reached a conversational distance. "I thought I sensed something pretty dramatic."

"Just testing the limits of the new orb," I said, waving a hand dismissively. I didn't wait for a reply before setting off back to the lab.

If anybody noticed that I was only doing three hundred and fifty miles per hour on the flight back, they were at least able to read the mood and keep any comments to themselves. By the time we landed, I was more or less back on an even keel.

"Ah, Chancellor," Dr. Fischer said, rushing out to greet us. "What did you think?"

"Do you still use form LM-347-X?" I asked.

I'd been both horrified and comforted back when I learned that the Imperial military had a specific form to be filled out in the event that a computation orb was destroyed in non-combat testing. It was reassuring that somebody had a plan for every situation, but alarming that they expected the situation to keep recurring. I'd filled out enough of the things back when I worked directly for Schugel that I'd practically memorized the layout.

"You really did work with Dr. Schugel," Dr. Fischer said with a chuckle. "We do still use the form, although we don't go through as many as we used to."

"Please get one for me," I said, pulling the misshapen lump that used to be the Type 99 out of my pocket and showing it to him.

His face went white. He turned and went inside without another word. I sighed. Even if the problem was a result of my own error more than anything else, I still intended to be enough of a professional to record what had happened in case our scientists could get some use out of it.

"We should probably get the Deputy Chancellor a copy of that form," Neumann said.

I looked at him in horror.

"No need for that."

After all the teasing I'd given Visha over being rusty, the last thing I needed was to hand her documentation proving I'd lost my edge.