Dein Weg ist Mein Weg

Chapter 45: Devils in the Dust

"Lady Darjeeling? Your tea."

"Ah, thank you," Darjeeling said with a grateful nod, and accepted the cup that Chifuyu, her loader in Orange Pekoe's absence, handed her. The sweet taste of the tea provided a much-needed escape from the dry and enclosed turret of the Victory.

The squall had struck without warning, and quickly devolved into a full-on sandstorm trapping the tanks of both St. Gloriana and Ooarai. Sand now filled the air outside, buffeting the armored monoliths scattered across the desert and making any attempt to see a fruitless endeavor. The vision ports had been scratched to uselessness within seconds, and even if Darjeeling had tried to open the hatch above her and stand in the cupola, she would barely have seen her own hand attached at the end of her arm. If she could even have seen anything at all with her eyes filled with sand. The storm provided nothing but a constant barrage of sand and dust, clawing and scratching furiously at anything that stood in its path, and the eerie howling of wind and gale drowning out the sounds of the world,

"So," Assam asked, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the howling outside as she leaned back in her seat and looked up at Darjeeling, "What's the plan now?"

"Well, seeing as not much is happening right now, I think we shall sit here and enjoy some tea until this all blows over," Darjeeling joked.

"You know that's not what I meant," Assam sighed and rolled her eyes. "Thank you," she added to Chifuyu, nodding as the loader handed her a cup of her own. "What's the plan once the sandstorm has passed? I assume the kid gloves are off now that Nishizumi's back in the running, but I don't see throwing tank after tank at a gap barely the width of a Panzer IV doing us much good regardless. So what's your plan? A sandstorm ambushing us out of nowhere wasn't exactly part of our planning."

"These are perhaps some rather unexpected circumstances, but do you know this saying?" Darjeeling said with a smile, taking a sip of her tea. "'There are two classes of men: Those who are content to yield to circumstances, and play Whist; and those who aim to control circumstances, and who play Chess'."

"Which one are you then?" Assam smirked and shook her head, returning most of her focus on the dials and levers that adjusted her sights. At least they had managed to cover the gun sights before the storm struck them with ts full intensity, so once the squall died down, she'd be more than prepared to fire.

"Who can say," Darjeeling shrugged with a smile. "I like to think that I might be a rare example of both," she chuckled, but paused as she noticed a small light blinking on the radio set beside her, signaling an incoming signal on the open channel. "This is Victory," she said calmly as she picked up the handset.

"skrrchs-ello, Dar-schhhhhh-ling." Even though the signal whined and faltered from the sand-filled air outside, the voice on the other end was unmistakable.

"My dear Nishizumi," Darjeeling said in a curious tone as she fiddled with the knobs of the radio, tuning the frequency further and eliminating the worst of the static. "Playing at Radio Operator yet again, are we?"

"Quite," Maho said shortly as the signal cleared. "Whatever the case, I think it's only right for me to apologize."

"Is that so?" Darjeeling asked with an intrigued smile. "For what, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Back on the Ark Royal, you told me that you thought of Sensha-Do as a way to see who your opponent really is, and you have very kindly shown me what kind of person I'm facing," Maho began to explain. "And so I'm sorry. Because I haven't even begun to show you who you're dealing with. But, I know how important the reputation of their Sensha-Do team is to St. Gloriana, so as thanks for your inspirational words, I wanted to discuss that surrender again."