Beyond the Zenith

The military truck set out from the deserted little station at four in the morning, its dark green canvas canopy drawn tight.

The truck was large, and the truck bed was spacious. It was roomy enough for five people to lie down flat. After days of being curled up on the train, this was undoubtedly a great luxury, and even those too anxious to sleep at first ended up drifting off amid the long swaying of the journey.

Though they wondered why the others hadn’t gotten off with them, they knew it was probably something they could not ask.

“Wake up. It’s time to wake up.” A hand nudged a sleeping Han Qingyu’s shoulder.

When he opened his eyes, the truck was rolling across a boundless expanse of wasteland. A road cut through the landscape of shrubs and exposed rock. Dead old trees stood at the edges of water pools, birds with black wings lifting off from their branches to land on a low earthen mound not far away, turning to keep a watchful eye on their truck.

The red sun on the horizon was gradually slipping out of sight. A wasteland sunset had a kind of desolate beauty, like a camera panning across a battlefield the day after the fight had ended.

It was already evening.

Lao Jian woke the rest of them and said, “Almost there. Per Azure Coalition custom, there are some basic things I need to tell you at this point.”

He cleared his throat. Perhaps he, a former physics teacher, had been away from lecturing for a while because his delivery was wooden and clumsy.

His explanation began with a famous incident from the year 1908 near the Tunguska River in the Siberian region of what was presently known as the Bear Alliance Republic.

“That’s the mysterious incident you’ll see described in tabloid magazines or supplementary reading materials as the Tunguska Explosion,” Lao Jian explained. “The explosion itself had nothing to do with the invasion. They simply landed there in a vast, uninhabited stretch of land and started exploring, killing, capturing, and expanding. The truth behind the explosion was that we, humanity, dropped nearly every incendiary and explosive weapon we thought might be capable of injuring those creatures there.”

His explanation skipped over the part covering how the crisis had ultimately been resolved. Han Qingyu was actually most curious about that, as it likely touched on many things, such as the scale of that particular spindle-shaped aircraft landing and the process through which source energy had been discovered.

Unfortunately, Lao Jian didn’t give anyone a chance to ask questions and pressed on, “From that point on, the Azure Coalition gradually took shape, unified around a single objective, operating in a manner that transcended national borders and remaining largely independent of direct management by any individual country.

“We, the Azure Coalition’s Oriental Republic Army Group, were first established in 1912. At that time, there was only one army, known as the First Army. It was a direct combat unit.

“Today, after more than seventy years of development and warfare, we have a total of eleven armies. They’re named in order of founding, from the First Army, established in 1912, to the Eleventh Army, founded twenty years ago.

“Among these, six armies—namely the First, Third, Fourth, Sixth, Ninth, and Eleventh—are all direct combat units. These six armies collectively share a name that started as a joke and has stuck ever since: the Only Witness Legion.

“Why the Only Witness Legion? Simple. It’s because of our mission. Every time the Sharpies descend, we must be the only witnesses. We see them? We destroy them.”

There was genuine pride and a sense of duty on Lao Jian’s face as he said those words.

“Beyond the Only Witness Legion’s six armies, there are five others. The Second Army is an exception. You don’t need to know about them. If you’re curious, figure it out on your own. Their nickname is the Refusers.”

Lao Jian briefly smiled for the first time during the briefing.

“The Fifth Army is the intelligence and early-warning unit, though most of the time we prefer to call them the Ravens because every time a call comes in from them, it means a crisis and a battle. No news from them is ever good news. The soldiers in the Azure Coalition have something we like to say, whether we’re in good spirits or bad: ‘kill that raven.’”

Lao Jian chuckled, trying to make his briefing colorful, but the students in the truck bed maintained their silence.

“Then there are the Seventh and Eighth Armies, collectively called the Order Legion, but also nicknamed the Security Guards.

“The Tenth Army, nicknamed the Fledglings, is the aerial combat reserve unit and has been established for over thirty years. But I’ll let you in on a public secret: To this day, we still don’t have a single source energy air vessel that can take off and directly engage the spindle-shaped aircraft in combat.”

Han Qingyu only stored Lao Jian’s rundown roughly in his mind and didn’t dwell on it much. After all, anything he could freely tell new recruits was clearly no true secret. He was waiting for Lao Jian to get to explaining source energy and dead iron.

It never came.

As the truck drove through a tunnel and into the encampment, Lao Jian stood up inside the canopy and placed his right arm across his chest with his fist against his heart. He then gestured toward the expanse of buildings and barracks spreading out from the rear view of the truck.

“Now, on behalf of the unit commanders, allow me to welcome the four of you to the Ninth Army of the Only Witness Legion in the Azure Coalition’s Oriental Republic Army Group,” Lao Jian declared in what was likely a not particularly official but no less ritual step. “From this moment on, your only path forward is to become a qualified soldier, that is to say, becoming a qualified Eraser of the Ninth Army.”

With that said, he sat back down.

“There’s no formal ceremony for enlisting. The formal ceremony comes on the day you first put on your armor,” Lao Jian said, returning to his ordinary tone. “As for ‘Erasers,’ well, that’s a nickname for the Ninth Army. It’s not hard to understand what it means, right? The soldiers themselves are quite fond of it.

“Also, as is customary, I will be your sponsor going forward. I am Azure Coalition Captain Lao Jian, Leader of Platoon 752. I hope you make me proud.” He made a simple fist-to-chest gesture, his gaze sincere.

Finally, someone reacted. It was Wen Jifei.

“Wait, you’re a platoon leader, right?” he asked. “How are you a captain already?”

He had read enough out-of-school books to know a bit about military organization.

Lao Jian paused, then answered, “It’s because the Azure Coalition doesn’t have squads. We’ve always aimed to avoid too many layers of hierarchy when it comes to information transfer and management. So, above a district platoon comes a legion, then a division, and finally an army.”

Wen Jifei nodded. “So, a platoon leader could be a captain, a first lieutenant, a second lieutenant, or even a major? Do they get different privileges?”

“Yes,” Lao Jian said, turning his head away. “Does anyone have something more meaningful to ask? We’re getting off soon.”

By then, the truck was already traveling through the Ninth Army base.

Out of habit, Han Qingyu half-raised his hand, wanting to ask a question or two about source energy.

“Why are there female soldiers here?” Wen Jifei asked with a grin, having spotted some of them passing by the rear of the truck. “And quite a few by the looks of it.”

Lao Jian smiled as if Wen Jifei had mentioned a point of pride. “Yes. Counting medical personnel, female soldiers make up close to one-quarter of the Azure Coalition’s total. The physical disparity between men and women becomes quite small when using the source energy maneuvering device.”

“Then why not just go fifty-fifty? It should be fifty-fifty, shouldn’t it?” asked Flying Plague Chicken.

Lao Jian gave Han Qingyu a commiserating look. One had to wonder if he still felt smug about recruiting Wen Jifei at that moment.

“Probably because girls don’t wander around getting into trouble at the same rate boys do,” Lao Jian said with a resigned eye-roll. “And then there’s the psychological aspect. Girls tend to be more cautious by nature.”

Wen Jifei opened his mouth again. “So then—”

“We’re almost out of time,” Lao Jian cut him off swiftly. “Give your fellow classmates a chance to ask something.”

In his muddled state, this former university professor had even said “fellow classmates.”

One of the other two new soldiers asked, “Captain, are you married?”

“No.”

“Can people in our unit get married and have children?” the person pressed. “Especially given that we’re probably never getting out?”

Wen Jifei jumped in. “I was wondering the same thing. Also, Platoon Leader, do female soldiers actually like being called Erasers too? That can’t be right.”

Lao Jian outright ignored Wen Jifei’s interjection and only answered the first question. “Sergeants and above are free to engage in romantic relationships by mutual consent.”

“So—”

“However,” Lao Jian interrupted sharply before softening his tone. “However, your children will also remain here forever. Except for the occasional permission to accompany you on home visits, they will grow up here, be educated here, and serve the Azure Coalition for life until they shed their last drop of blood for every living, breathing soul on this planet.”

The mood in the truck became heavy.

“If you marry here, you don’t need to register at a civil affairs office, right?” Wen Jifei asked. “Then, if you marry someone both here and outside, is that bigamy? It’s not, right?”

It seemed he had apparently not forgotten the girl studying at Yue University, even as he pined after the female soldiers.

Lao Jian stared speechless at Han Qingyu.

Han Qingyu met his gaze with a wide grin.