Wednesday, August 21st 2013
Heather has mostly kept to herself since the start of the semester. Only speaking to others when it was absolutely necessary. When she interacted with members of the team during and in between classes, she was a bit more chatty as she was more familiar and comfortable with them, though even these conversations were kept brief as that was how Heather preferred them. When it came to being with Ashley, however, it was a totally different story. She wasn't silent with her, as Heather was totally at ease when in Ashley's presence. When the two were together, Heather would talk at length about whatever topic that happened to occupy her mind at the time. She had an intense fascination for the unusual and the unexplained, which includes but are not limited to; alien visitations, poltergeists, alternative dimensions, cryptids, and all manners of conspiracy theories. A side of her that she has kept under wraps for fear that others would see her as 'weird' and keep their distance. Valarie and Emma had no issues with this more fantastical side of her and accepted her as who she was. With Ashley, she not only accepted it, but embraced it. The couple would talk at great length about anything mysterious, which Heather loved like nothing else in the world.
But today, to her dismay, she wasn't with Ashley right now. Unlike Valarie and Emma, the two girls didn't share a lunch period. So, when lunch time rolled around, Heather would just eat in relative solitude, and thereafter, would wander around the campus to get more familiar with the place.
Catalina was a rather large place so there was still more things for her to see. Walking about, Heather sighted a large domed building whose ornate architecture told her that it was a theater of some kind. The large double front doors were wide opened, so curious, Heather walked into the theater. In the lobby, she paused to look around. The carpet was a vibrant red that seemed to absorb the sound as the moment she walked inside, the noise of the area decreased dramatically. She looked up to see a grand tiered chandelier made of polished crystal that shined brilliantly thanks to a set of interior lights that were aimed right at it. The lobby was at the head of two hallways. Both lead to a theater, but each were a different kind of theater. Reading the some signs, Heather learned that one theater was dedicated for live action performances, mainly plays, and the other was used to play films made by students who are taking cinematography courses at Catalina. After a brief moment of thought, she elected to go down the hallway to her left, and found herself in a expansive auditorium with rows upon rows of seats that stretched on for much farther than Heather imagined. This building was bigger than it looked. At the far end of this auditorium was a fancy wooden stage with purple curtains pulled back on either side. Over head were stage lights, whose powerful lights were shining on the stage below. She began her walk toward the stage, the sound of her footsteps the only thing audible in the large room. Upon reaching the stage, she climbed on top of it, and turned to face the 'audience'. Even facing a sea of empty seats, it still unnerved her. She hated attention being brought on her, so the mere thought of standing before hundreds of eyes made her heart skip a beat. So, she moved backstage to not only get more comfortable, but to see what she could see. Here, she saw things that made her grin from ear to ear. Several racks filled with all kinds of clothes and costumes, fit for a play. She ran up to one of the racks and began to peruse through the selection.
"Wow. These aren't cheap store-bought rags. These are handmade," Heather remarked as she felt and examined the fabric. "High quality stuff."
She picked up the sleeve of a sweater and noticed that it had a tear in it. "Oh. I...just can't resist."
Heather grabbed the sweater from off the rack and sat herself at a nearby table. There, she dug out a sewing kit that was always in her backpack. A fine needle and a assortment of threat for any situation. With her skilled hands, the tear was repaired in no time at all. The sweater looked like it never had damage whatsoever in its life, with only a very careful eye being able to notice the repair work. She admired her work and put the sweater back in the rack, releasing a satisfying sigh.
"That was nice of you." said a voice from behind.
Heather flinched at the voice, but noticed that there was a familiarity to it. She turned around.
"Oh hey," Heather noted. "You're that girl that gave us the tour when we first arrived on this ship."
Alice nodded. "The very same. So, you're the type of girl who always has a sewing kit on hand? I like that."
"Thanks," Heather replied with a faint blush. "I do more than repair clothes though. I also modify them to suit my needs and create entire outfits from scratch."
"No way. You've made whole outfits?"
Heather nodded.
"Can I see some examples of your work?" Alice then asked.
Heather got out her phone and showed Alice the outfits she has created over the years. What Alice saw made her smile greatly.
"Oh man!" Alice exclaimed. "Did you really make that plague doctor get-up? Like for real?"
"It's be best project. Took forever to get it right, sourcing the right material and props."
"That...that's fantastic work. Like, not even kidding! Look, I know you're part of that tankery team and that it requires a lot of commitment and all that jazz, but, the theater department has been without a costume designer for ages now! We'd love to have you on board."
Heather placed a hand on her chin, deep in thought.
"Hmm," she hummed. "You got any sewing machines around her?"
With a smile, Alice beckoned Heather to follow as she was lead to a subroom backstage. Here, she was shown a room that hosted a few expensive-looking sewing machines that outclassed the one she used back home in California in every conceivable way. A long table stood in the middle of the room, covered with all sorts of colorful fabrics, scissors, measuring tape, pin cushions, yarn, and feathers of all things. Mannequins were scattered about the room, some of which were wearing half-finished costumes. On both walls were shelves. Each space on the shelves were occupied with all manners of raw material. Silk. Cotton. Leather. Denim. Polyester, and so much more. This was Heather's paradise.
"Oh. My. God," she uttered, using all of her strength to not let out a sequel of pure delight. "With a workshop like this, I can do anything."
"Impressive, hmm?" Alice remarked. "This place churns out quality outfits for out plays. Ha, bet you don't have to wonder why us theater kids have the best costumes when Halloween comes around."
Heather chuckled as she looked around the room to get a nice eyeful. "So, what happened to the last costume designer?"
"Ah, she transferred." Alice shared. "That's why the costumes on the mannequins aren't done yet. It was her work. One day she was here, doing her thing, then the next, she headed for a school in New York. It was all so sudden that it left our heads spinning. We didn't get a replacement mainly because we couldn't find anyone suitable enough to pick up where she left off. But thanks to serendipity, our search has hopefully come to and end."
"Did this girl do...everything?"
"Ha. No. Costume design is a team effort, especially when you gotta make a bunch of them. She was the head costume designer, working with a team to get things done."
"So, if I take the the job, I'd be the head costume designer?"
"Yes! With what you showed me you'd be an—"
"I'll do it."
"Aha! Well then! Welcome aboard!"
The two girls shook hands.
"Sweet," Alice continued. "We just got ourselves a new costume designer!" she paced around the room. "Now, if only we could find a piano player. Ha, you wouldn't happen to know someone?"
Heather laughed as she looked right at Alice. "I think I know a person."
Later
More material has arrived at the team's garage. The Stuart's crew has received their smoke mortars. Mia and her crew got to work to attaching them to the turret, which was a simple affair. Along with the mortar came with a nice supple of smoke rounds.
"Good stuff!" Mia exclaimed upon the work being done. "Now we can deploy smoke with an AP round loaded. We can pop off a shot, deploy smoke, and slink away!"
"I just think having these mortars make our tank look cooler." Olivia told her.
"Yeah, that too."
Nearby, the elevated VK was being worked upon by Marielle and her crew, who were happily tending to their tank's overlapping roadwheels. They were cleaned, maintained, and if necessary, replaced. For Marielle, having these heavy duty jacks on hand was sublime.
"This is so much easier, my god! So easier! Thank god!"
Elsewhere, the Jumbo crew were getting a little discontent. The sight of other crews getting their materials before them rubbed them the wrong way.
"Hmmph," Haley grumbled. "You'd think because it was our idea to get new things, that we'd get what we wanted first?"
"It'll still get here before our match, right?" Heidi questioned, the Jumbo's gunner.
"That, I can guarantee. I know it's a cannon and all, but what's the hold up?"
The rest of her crew shared her feelings. All except for Harper as her attention was placed on her phone. She didn't even know what they were so annoyed about. Danielle, the driver, glanced at Harper, who looked like she was in her own world.
"Hey Haley, Harper has been on her phone since the meeting starting. What's up with that?"
"I don't know. We aren't particularly busy right now, though I am curious about what's making her smile so much. I'll ask her."
Haley walked up to Harper and got her attention. The two conversed for a bit, their hands moving in a sophisticated, beautiful patterns. Harper and Haley have been close friends for several years ever since they met in middle school. Haley had taken upon herself learning sign language so that they could better communicate and over the years has become quite fluent. They conversed for several moments, with at the end, Haley sporting a smile.
"Oh, now you're smiling," Heidi noted. "What's up?"
"She's talking with a very lovely girl." Haley replied.
The Mojave Rose tankery team were doing their routine. A mixture of excitement and nervousness existed among each and every member of the team. A feeling that has always manifested in the days leading up to a match. Over at the T-44, Valarie was reviewing the team's strategy. In her hands was her playbook, her concentration dedicated fully to the maps and papers. Around her was the the rest of the team working, chatting, and laughing. She was the only one who was dead quiet. She flipped to a page and studied the map of the battlefield. Hr eyes scanned the river that divided it. The fact that the river existed made her uncomfortable. It stretched for miles on the map, and since Cassidy put the thought in her mind that Port Chalmers could field amphibious tanks made her more uneasy. The team simply did not have the numbers to both out sentries along the rivers and have enough firepower to seize control of the railroad tunnel as it serves as the only way to cross the river.
"More tanks," she whispered to her self. "We always need more tanks. Anything will do."
She sighed and closed the playbook. Valarie was sat on top of the turret of her T-44 in silent contemplation, gazing out to the far wall. She then chuckled softly. The team being short on tanks has been a problem since day one. It may be something they will always have to deal with.
"You done, ah, studying I guess?" Emma then asked her.
Valarie turned to Emma and gave her a grin. "For now. I'll take another look at it later, then once more, and more...you get the idea."
"Yeah, I do."
Emma hugged Valarie from behind and the two shared a tender moment. Below, Heather and Ashley were having a different kind of conversation.
"You're the theater's...what now?" Ashley questioned.
"Head costume designer. I got the role like that." Heather explained, snapping her fingers. "I showed Alice the outfits I've made and it impressed her."
"She'd had to be blind to not be! That's amazing, Heather!"
"Mmm, thanks! Oh! Also, the theater is also looking for a piano player for their upcoming musical."
Ashley narrowed her eyes at Heather. "...You didn't."
"I may have mentioned your name."
"Heather!"
"What? Don't you play the piano along with the guitar? I remember something about a talent show and you getting in trouble...what were the details again?"
"Ah, it's a whole thing. But it's been ages since I've played the piano."
"It's been a long time since you played the guitar too but you've managed to play me a song with that angelic voice of yours. You got talent, Ashley."
Ashley blushed as she averted her gaze to the floor. "T-thanks. Ah, geez, I dunno."
"I didn't tell Alice that you'd for sure do it. Just that you'll think about it."
"Hmm," Ashley hummed. "I will think about it."
The meeting for today progressed as normal as ever and soon came to a close. The team were then dismissed and started their way out of the garage. Jacqueline was ahead of the pack, near sprinting back to the apartment complex. She had something waiting for her at her apartment. So excited was she that she ditched using the elevator and ran up the stairs to the third floor. Running down the hallway, she spotted two boxes in front of her door. Overjoyed, she picked up the boxes and rushed in to her apartment. She placed them on the table and picked out the smallest of the two. She opened it up and got out a case. Stored within were something she wanted for a long time. Aviator sunglasses.
"God damn gorgeous," she commented.
Jacqueline put them on and went to a mirror to check herself out. She looked great in her new sunglasses, combined with her uniform. She put on multiple poses to look as good as she could, having fun with it. Once that rather embarrassing bit was over, she took off her shades and hung them on the collar of her uniform. She set her sights on the remaining box, which was significantly bigger. It was opened and her eyes widened as she saw the contents within. An RC plane.
"This is what I'm talking about!"
Jacqueline tore open the packaging and got out the plane, which was in parts that had to be assembled. As it wasn't a plastic model kit, putting the thing together was dead simple. The two wings were attached to the fuselage and after making sure the electrics were connected, her craft was ready. What Jacqueline got was an RC P-51 Mustang with an distinctive red tail. She placed the plan on the table and admired it for several moments. It was a wonderful plane, and quite big too with a wingspan of three feet. She leaned in closer to examine all the beautiful details.
"Oh the weathering. So good!"
She grabbed the controller and switched it on. A green light flashed on it, and soon, a similar light appeared on the plane. After that, both lights turned blue, signifying that a connection has been made. She feathered one of the triggers which made the propeller spin slowly, producing a soft noise from the electric motor.
"Alright, that's enough of a flight check, so to speak. Time to get airborne!"
Jacqueline quickly switched out of her uniform and slipped into more casual clothing. Right after, she grabbed her plane and got outside to the courtyard in front of the complex. She placed the P-51 on the ground and with controller in hand prepared for take off.
"Skies are clear and no wind whatsoever. More than ideal flying conditions," out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted a crow flying about. It gave her an idea. She was going to have some fun. "We gotta scramble! 109s are inbound!"
She pressed fully on the triggers and the props spun at full power. The P-51 rolled across the ground and once it got enough speed, took off. It immediately took chase on the crow, who was now freaking out at the strange bird right behind it. Convinced it was some predator, the crow flew faster and more erratically with the P-51 soaring to keep on its tail.
"Oh you got some speed to ya," Jacqueline remarked on her unwillingly aerial opponent. "Must be a late war model. A G-6. Maybe even a G-14. Wouldn't want that 30mm cannon in that nose of yours firing at me. I wont let ya get behind me."
The crow, which Jacqueline pretended was a Messerschmitt Bf 109, being more instinctively familiar with flight, successfully darted out of view. Jacqueline subsequently declared herself the winner of the 'dogfight'. With the area no longer being a combat zone, she went on to perform aerobatics with the RC P-51. Aileron rolls, loops, dives, zoom climbing, and even purposely stalling the aircraft to see if she could recover from a spin. She did, barely. The craft was mere feet from smashing into the ground when she then recovered and soared back into the air. After nearly destroying the toy she had just received, she now flew her plane around all peaceful like. While she was doing this, members of the team went about the rest of their day, doing whatever they have planned, paying no mind to Jacqueline. All save for one, who approached out of curiosity.
"Hey, watcha doing?" she asked.
Turning around, Jacqueline found that it was Aubrey, the team's newest commander.
"Just flying my new plane around," Jacqueline answered. "I also traumatized a crow a few minutes before by chasing it, if you also care to know."
"Oh..." Aubrey uttered. "I guess that's a way to have fun. So, what kind of plane is that?"
"A P-51D Mustang, American fighter. Armed with six .50 caliber machine guns, three on each wing, a maximum speed of four-hundred and forty miles per hour, and boasts an impressive combat record in both theaters of the war. They even shot down a number of those 262 jet fighters."
"You know your stuff about planes, huh?" Aubrey noted.
"Totally! If it flies, I'm all over it. I have more of a love for military aircraft. They are just...so cool! Last summer, my family and I went to an air show and it was amazing. All kinds of planes and helicopters doing fly-bys and so many kinds of tricks. Oh! The best part was when an F-18 buzzed by the crowd. Everyone screamed because the thing came outta nowhere!"
"That must've made your ears ring for sure."
"Yeah, it did. I'm used to loud noises though. Especially with the kind of vehicle I command."
"That Russian artillery," Aubrey remarked. "How loud is it when you're pretty much inside of it?"
"Loud," Jacqueline said slowly for greater emphasis. "We all have hearing protection, but man, does it only work so well. Plus, there is the vibration from firing the gun, and the heat from the spent shells. It can get real warm in there after continuous firing. All of that combined...makes for a thrilling time."
"Is there a lot of math involved to get a shot off?"
"Definitely. The gunners get all the math done for the ballistics, and the rest of us help out to check their work. Well, almost all of us. Lana, being our driver and all, doesn't do the math part. Lucky..."
"Geez. Math," Aubrey said with a sneer. "Not my favorite subject."
"I feel ya, but being the commander of an self-propelled gun has its perks. Like this," Jacqueline dug into her pockets and got out an stopwatch. She passed it to Aubrey. "Check out the markings."
Aubrey brought the watch close to her eyes, and adjusted her glasses. "Made in West...West Germany?!"
"Yup! Nice and retro! And still works like a dream."
"What do you use this for?"
"Well, since my vehicle is positioned far from danger, usually anyway, our round travels farther than the other tanks on the team. The math we do not only gets our gun trained on some unlucky bastard, but also gives us a time-to-target. So, say from the match we get a time of ten seconds. Once the gun fires, I activate the stopwatch so that I know exactly when ten seconds elapsed."
"Alrighty, that's pretty damn cool."
"That it is. Well, that's enough about me. What about you?"
"Me?" Aubrey said, pointing to herself. "Well, ah, I love prehistoric animals. I want to be a paleontologist."
"Oh, you love dinosaurs? Yeah, they're pretty kickass."
Aubrey chuckled. "They so are. Hey, wanna know something cool about the every-famous T-Rex?"
"What isn't cool about that beast? All except its eyesight though."
"That's where you wrong."
"Huh?" Jacqueline remarked. "Are you saying that Jurassic Park is...inaccurate?
Aubrey nodded. "That movie is great, believe me, but when it comes to the facts...oh boy. You see, a T-Rex's vision was not based on movement. No, no. It has been determined that they have a visual clarity thirteen times better than humans. The vision of modern day eagles are about three point six times better than ours. A T-Rex can spot its prey clear as day from up to six kilometers away. They not only have the best eye sight of all the dinosaurs, they have the best eyes in whole damn animal kingdom."
Jacqueline let out a whistle. "Woah. The tyrant king as all my respect."
The two girls smiled at each other and, together, they watched the RC P-51 fly around the area. The rays of the setting sun made the aircraft shine thanks to its reflective psuedometal material. Jacqueline put the plane in a steep climb, stalled it, and was now plummeting toward the earth. She then passed the controller to Aubrey.
"Here. Have a go at it."
Elsewhere
England
Martin and Gabrielle's European honeymoon continued, and the pair were having a grand time. They have spent enough time in France, seeing all the sights they wanted to see. Of course, they did the most touristy thing anyone could do by going to the Eiffel Tower in Paris. It was utterly crowded with tourists from all over the world, but nonetheless, they enjoyed their time and took lots of pictures. From France, they turned their attention to the United Kingdom. Traveling the Channel Tunnel, or chunnel as some liked to call it, they arrived in England by late day. They were driving to London to explore the city and just have fun. Gabrielle was driving this time around, with Martin in the passenger seat. With the setting of the sun, he was asleep. Gabrielle drove in silence on the motorway that lead to the English capital. As she did, she felt a bit of nausea that originated from she her stomach.
"Ugh," she quietly groaned. "Now is not the time. I'm driving."
About a mile was driven when another bout of nausea was felt, this time hitting harder.
"Oh come on. The moment you two are born, you're so grounded."
Her 'threat' has seemingly taken root as the moment she uttered it, the nausea dissipated. She now felt right as rain. "Ah, good girls. Or boys. I'll take either."
The drive continued in comfort for many more miles, though the monotonous sound of being on a motorway, with all the passing cars and trucks and the rumbling of the tires on the asphalt. It bored her, with even a faint feeling of drowsiness starting to manifest. To stay alert, she turned on the radio, its volume low as to not disturb Martin. She flipped through stations. Gabrielle was in the mood for some music, preferably rock, but it seemed like English radios don't play rock music. She sighed, and flipped through some more. She found a station that was kinda like a talk show which had a tank theme.
"—and that wraps up our segment on what war movies depicts tanks accurately. To sum up, almost none of them. Listeners, we are approaching the nine o'clock hour and we still have much more content to go through. I'm pleased you choose to spend your night with me, your talented and beautiful host, Miss Vickers. Now, our nightly discussions tend to be about the more serious aspects of the sport and tonight is no different. Let's get right to it; do tankery athletes get some form of trauma or anxiety disorder as a result of their participation in the sport?A study by the University of Oxford sought to answer this question."
Gabrielle softly grinned upon hearing what the radio said. "If I was asked this question, I would give one hell of an answer."
She listened on.
"The study lasted four years, following the tankery careers of various groups of students from schools all over the United Kingdom from Year 9 to Year 13. What they found was interesting. First was a before and after picture of the athletes, from the day they joined the team, to the day prior of their graduation and onto university. Of course the pictures were different, as in four years, these kids grow up. But Oxford found that these kids looked more...older than their non-tankery peers. Not totally different, however. For most of them, they only had little differences here and there. It was the team captains that had the more significant changes. Five team captains were in the study, and all had a strand or two of gray hair."
"Hmm," Gabrielle remarked with a hum. She thought of her the team captain of the old Mojave Rose team all those years ago. She distinctly remembered seeing something silver in her hair but thought nothing of it back then. Then, her mind shifted to Valarie. Thinking about her, Gabrielle recalled back in the events center, prior to the wedding, she noticed something white that stood out in Valarie's hair. A bit more than one or two strands. "Damn. This sport is running you through a wringer. But, knowing you, you'd rather die than stop being in the sport."
She let out a small sigh and resumed listening.
"What more about the team captains, they all reported that in the days leading up to matches, they tend to have difficulties falling asleep. Even more so when these matches have high stakes attached to them. One captain even admitted to having a panic attack the day before a big match. This study also looked at other events an athlete could experience that can contribute to them forming a stress or anxiety disorder. The failure of the carbon protection is one, for example an incident occurring in the United States in 1990. More recently, there was an incident at the Japanese nationals where a tank had portions of the ground shot out from under one of its tracks, making it slip down a hill and into a body of water. All involved survived, thankfully, though, well, you really don't need a study to determine if they really made it out of these events completely unscathed."
Gabrielle had enough of the radio and switched it off, now preferring the monotony of the motorway. She had a lot to think about.
Thursday August 22nd, 2013
Catalina's student council was viewed as so important by the school that a whole class period was dedicated to it. In the mid-mornings, it was here where Madison, Alice and the rest of the student council gathered to perform the duties such an organization was expected to perform. Today, it was all hands on deck to finalize the preparations of Viola's arrival tomorrow.
"Alright, tomorrow will be without a doubt an important day for us," Madison told the council. "It's absolutely crucial that it goes off without a hitch to have the best chance of persuading Viola of attending Catalina. Sylvia, how are we in regards to the budget?"
The treasurer cleared her throat. " Well, we sailed past our budget for tomorrow's event by twenty thousand tell you the truth I, uh, I don't know what was bought."
"Catering." Madison simply replied.
"What catering service costs twenty thousand dollars?"
"High class ones from Berlin. They'll serve all kinds of premium, delicious food. This isn't just for Viola, but also for the student body. Might as well make tomorrow a party."
"But...that much money?"
"Don't worry, this is coming out of my pocket."
"Oh," Sylvia remarked, now at ease. "Well. It's your money,"
Madison gave her a nod, then turned to face the rest of the council. "You all have your responsibilities, and I have mine. We work at our absolute best, and we have this in the bag."
They all shared a cheer and the meeting was adjourned. Members of the student council returned to their desks in the room and buried themselves in their computers doing their regular duties. Madison was in her own corner, with Alice, the vice-president, in the desk next to her.
"How do you gauge our chances?" Alice then asked her in a whisper.
"Honestly, pretty good. Though, it's not taking into account Juliana's potential meddling. Thinking of her makes my stomach turn."
"Same. What is the game plan if she comes here?"
Madison pondered for several moments. "If she comes, she will most certainly make her way toward Viola and start her spiel on why Golden Gate is so much better than us, how the arts are pointless, and so on and so forth. All in German, of course, because she just has to know the damn language. We'll have to avoid her in a way not to tip of Viola."
"And what about Valarie? She'll be with you guys the entire time. Does she know about our relationship Juliana?"
"No," Madison sighed. "She doesn't have a clue. I don't want her to know because this isn't her fight. She has enough on her plate as it is."
"Alright. I can agree on that. Let's hope tomorrow goes as smoothly as possible."
"Amen to that. Now, I want to shift gears a bit. To get our minds distracted from all this. What do you know about tankery?"
"Is this a serious question?" Alice asked. "You and I has been to Valarie's matches since the very beginning. I think I know how the sport works. Plus, I've worked on getting her team tanks. I've found them that Type 97 from a school in Stuttgart."
"Yes," Madison said with a grin. "But is that all you know? What about the history about the sport?"
"Oh...well....in that way...nothing really."
"Are you aware that the sport of tankery was established way back I919?"
"No...it's that old?"
"Yup. And with a history like that, there is bound to be all sorts of juicy stories spanning multiple countries. I want to learn more about the sport. To increase my bond with Valarie."
"That is adorable, Madison."
Madison blushed. "Stop it..."
The two girls set out to learn all they can about the expansive history of tankery. It lead them down rabbit holes that only lead to more holes full of fascinating information that further increased their curiosity. The first ever world tournament was held in 1925 with France, unsurprisingly, taking the title of world champion. A feat that tankery teams in France are incredibly proud of, especially the school that won it all. A seemingly infinite amount of photos spanning various decades were scoured through, showcasing tankery teams of around the world. One picture showed Matilda in the Australian outback, with the crew lounging on the shaded side as they wait for their match to begin, sharing food and drink. Another showed a team of girls pulling out a STuG IV from a mud pit with the help of a Bergepanther, with the look on their faces showing that even in such a situation, they were still having fun. A third showed girls cleaning a King Tiger, their uniforms soaking wet. It looked like they were having more of a party than actually working on their tank. But not everything the girls came across put them in a jovial and wholesome mood. As Madison searched through an image collection, she found an archived picture of a poster from the Soviet Union, dated July 6th 1941. Translated from Russian to English, it read,
"By the order of Comrade General Georgy Zhukov, all Soviet tankery athletes are required to assist in the defense of the motherland from fascist aggression. These athletes are to serve in tank corps to combat the forces of Germany in the battlefield. Tankery instructors shall be given commissions to serve in military training grounds to train future tank crews. Ladies, your contribution to the war effort will aide us immensely in this fierce struggle. The flame of revolution shall not be snuffed out!"
Once she finished reading, Madison reclined in her chair and looked up toward the ceiling. She was stunned over what she just read. It never crossed her mind how World War II would affect tankery. After a moment of processing the information, she resumed searching more history, only to find something that was truly chilling. A statistic.
"Prior to the German invasion, it's estimated that the Soviet Union had approximately 10,300 tankery athletes in various levels of competition. By war's end, Soviet records report that 4,565 of these athletes were killed in action."
"Jesus..." Madison uttered.
"What is it?" asked Alice.
"Not everything about this sport is all sunshine and rainbows."
Alice moved over and read what Madison read.
"Holy hell," she gasped. "Nearly half were killed."
"You know what, I'd rather go back to thinking about tomorrow."
"Yeah...yeah. Me too."
The two girls ended their little adventure of learning the history of tankery and reshifted their concentration to what tomorrow will bring. Viola Wilhelm, descendant of royalty. Her attending Catalina would make the school that more prestigious, another person to add to an already impressive list of alumni. Madison wasn't particularly a religious person, but in the absolute privacy in her dorm, she did pray that tomorrow would be a great day to whoever was listening. Would tomorrow be a great day? A chance. A fun day? Maybe. Will tomorrow have everything go south? There's always the possibility. They are not many guarantees in life, with rolling the dice often the best way for people to continue on. But tomorrow did, in fact, have a guarantee.
It sure will be interesting.