Retirement Plan in Progress

Retirement Plan in Progress

"Report, Captain. After receiving your order to remain stationed in place, our squad has now been stationed in Elm Village for seven hours and twelve minutes. We have exceeded the patrol deadline issued by the battalion commander by a full three hours. What are your instructions regarding the squad's next patrol mission?" Wendy asked this damned superior while forcibly suppressing the rage in her heart. Right now, she nearly wanted to eat him alive.

Especially after recalling what had happened before, that urge became all the more intense.

A month ago, because the squad captain had disregarded her advice and rashly led the squad into an attack, the magitech soldier squad she belonged to had been ambushed by an Allied anti-magitech squad and suffered devastating losses. Only she and the captain, who had remained in the safe area at the rear, had survived by sheer luck.

And because the former captain had shifted the blame onto her, she had lost her rank of master sergeant and been demoted to sergeant. She had spent her days in the magitech soldier recovery camp awaiting reassignment, feeling thoroughly disheartened.

Only three days ago had she received new orders and been assigned to this newly established 14th Mobile Magitech Soldier Squad.

Originally, she had still held some expectations for it.

After all, perhaps because the higher-ups had considered what she had gone through last time, they had exceptionally added the position of vice-captain to the magitech soldier squad and specifically appointed her to it. That gave her some authority in decision-making, allowing her to disregard the captain's orders when necessary and prevent the previous tragedy from happening again.

But today, after officially joining the squad and witnessing the orders issued by John Maslow, her nominal superior—

Wendy immediately realized that she had merely gone from one hell to another!

After all, under normal circumstances, what squad captain, upon receiving a mission to scout enemy movements, would make their first decision to be setting up camp and resting at the mission site?

And they had been stationed there for a full seven hours!

They had set out at five in the evening, yet it was already midnight!

At this hour, even the sentries on night duty in the camp had already completed a shift change.

Yet their 14th Magitech Soldier Squad had not even completed the most basic patrol mission. What the hell was that bastard John Maslow trying to pull?

Wendy could practically foresee how black Olaf's face would be right now.

"Hm? Has it been that long already?"

John looked at his watch in surprise. Seeing that it really was past midnight, he realized where Wendy's resentment came from and guiltily rubbed his nose.

It couldn't be helped. He had just transmigrated here; he needed some time to adjust. Besides, his current goal was retirement. If he completed every mission perfectly, then what retirement would there be? The Empire would probably work him to death.

Only by being bad at everything would he have a chance of getting fired!

Hm? Wait, fired?

Wasn't this the perfect opportunity?

An image suddenly appeared in John's mind: a bespectacled beef noodle shop owner raising one hand to point at the sky.

His brain instinctively filtered out his usual lewd thoughts, allowing reason to reclaim the high ground of his intelligence.

According to his memories, he was currently the top graduate of the Imperial First Military Academy and had also participated in the Imperial commander training program. Otherwise, he would not have been able to serve as the commander of this Seventh Imperial Air Force Elite Magitech Squad despite not being a magitech soldier himself the moment he entered the battlefield.

In theory, this battle would serve as a test of his abilities by the higher-ups.

And if his performance proved unsatisfactory—for example, if he failed this patrol mission—

Then, as a useless existence that had cost the Empire vast sums of money and inspired tremendous expectations but failed to demonstrate its proper value, he would most likely be transferred to the logistics department.

Then, as new talent emerged, he—who according to his memories only possessed the Magic Eye and Analysis abilities and had virtually no frontal combat capability—would probably become scrap and gradually be phased out by the Imperial military.

Thus completing his goal of retirement?!

To think I came up with something this brilliant. As expected of me—I truly am a genius among geniuses!

Of course, this part of the plan still required careful consideration. The Empire's inspection forces were no decoration. If they really judged him to be deliberately slacking off, then what awaited him would not be an honorable retirement, but a military court.

Therefore, he needed to find an appropriate reason for his decision to remain stationed here. At the very least, it had to sound plausible on the surface.

John's walnut-sized brain began spinning at high speed, but outwardly, he still put on an unconcerned expression and spoke.

"Although we have indeed been stationed a little too long, it was within my calculations. I have now organized my thoughts. Sergeant Wendy, you may lead the squad members to carry out the patrol mission."

"Huh? Now? John Maslow, are you joking?"

Wendy's eyes widened as she stared at the officer before her in disbelief, as though she could not understand how he had the nerve to utter such nonsense.

Patrolling at night far from their station, and in an area close to the combat zone at that—wasn't that rushing headlong to their deaths?

Did her superior not even understand this common sense, something even ordinary Imperial civilians who had never stepped onto a battlefield knew?

Was this guy really an outstanding graduate of the Imperial First Military Academy, rather than some brainless idiot?

Rage surged through Wendy's heart. She was just about to berate him for treating soldiers' lives like a joke when, in the next instant, she met his cold black eyes.

"Sergeant Wendy, may I take this as you questioning my decision?"

John looked expressionlessly at his subordinate. His voice was utterly calm, yet it made Wendy feel a chill run through her.

"I recall saying that when it comes to my orders, you only need to answer yes or no. As a soldier of the Empire, Wendy Brown, your conduct has greatly disappointed me. If there is a next time, I will consider applying to headquarters for an order dismissing you."

"Please believe that, as the top graduate of the fifty-ninth class of the Imperial First Military Academy and the recipient of the Iron Wreath commendation personally awarded by President Tolovsky, I have the standing to say such things!"

Seeing Wendy's pale face and frightened expression, John, who had imitated the posture of a ruthless boss from his previous life while warning a subordinate, felt secretly delighted.

But as a gold-medal corporate beast of burden, he also knew that balancing favor and authority was the long road of the workplace. More importantly, if he could not find a suitable reason for his decision, then when the inspection forces investigated his record in the future, he would definitely be unable to swallow the consequences.

Thus, he adopted the posture of inspecting a subordinate while rapidly working his brain to fabricate a reason. After pondering for a moment, he slowly spoke.

"However, I also know that you acted out of concern for your comrades' safety. Therefore, I do not dislike this behavior of yours, but I am somewhat dissatisfied with your rash act of questioning a superior's decision."

"Secondly, contrary to what you imagine, my arrangement was also based on my own considerations."

"Sergeant Wendy, I believe you should be well aware of our army's current inability to break through in the Walden Region. You also understand that so-called patrol missions to search for enemy traces, aside from finding one or two wandering remnants and eliminating them to obtain some meager merit, are fundamentally incapable of doing much to advance our war effort." "The reason I defied headquarters' mission arrangements and changed the patrol time from evening to late night was to exploit the fact that magitech soldiers can fly, and because their smaller individual size makes them harder to detect under the cover of night, to uncover more critical intelligence during the patrol and help the Empire gain an opportunity to reverse the battle situation."

"This is the reason for my actions!"

Of course, I made all that up on the spot to fool you. Otherwise, I would have no way to explain myself to the inspection forces.

Still, only someone as clever as me could come up with such a flawless excuse in such a short time. If it were someone else, they would probably be so anxious they could not even piss. Heh heh!

As for the possibility that the magitech soldier squad would be exposed during the patrol mission and wiped out entirely, John, as a veteran player, naturally knew that was impossible.

After all, according to the game's setting, unless the enemy had prepared anti-magitech devices in advance, magitech soldiers like Wendy and the others—who could fly above five hundred meters and use large-scale explosive magic—were completely invincible in this world.

There was no way they could die so easily.

After all, while John did want to retire early, having received a proper education and having been a model young man of the new era in his previous life, he was not one of those utterly wicked capitalists who treated people like livestock.

If anything, he was the one being treated as expendable material. As a fellow corporate beast of burden—or rather, a former one—he naturally would not persecute workers like Wendy and the others.

Of course, he could not possibly let them get promoted and receive raises as they wished, either.

After all, his goal right now was retirement. Slacking off was his normal state.

As for the possibility of Wendy and the others following his instructions, going on patrol, and actually finding useful intelligence—

Heh, give him a break. He did not even believe those words himself. Fooling others was one thing, but could he fool himself with them?

It was merely an excuse he had casually fabricated to deal with the inspection forces. No matter how stupid the Allied forces were, they could not possibly be stupid enough to pull something at night, could they?

Moreover, he clearly remembered that in the game's background, there had been no special event in the Battle of Walden he was currently in.

The Allied forces had already gained the advantage. As long as they maintained the current deadlock, the Imperial army would, just as in the game, suffer a break in its front lines, have its supply routes cut off, and ultimately be forced to withdraw from the front and lose.

The enemy would have to have water in their brains to make trouble at such a crucial moment. It was even less likely that they would just happen to be discovered by his thirty-man squad.

The odds of that were lower than winning the lottery jackpot. How could something like that happen to John Maslow? If he had that kind of luck, he would not have transmigrated into this godforsaken world. He would probably already be at a foot massage parlor, booking his beloved Number 38 female technician to massage his feet!

John grumbled inwardly, then maintained the authority on his face as he calmly looked at the doubtful vice-captain before him and said in a deep voice.

"Now answer me, Wendy Brown. Do you still have any questions about my decision?"

"I... have none, sir. Wendy Brown has no questions. Thank you for your explanation!"

After hearing this explanation, Wendy still harbored some doubts, but sensing his arrogant gaze as though he were looking at an idiot, she ultimately only endured the humiliation and nodded in response.

"Very good. If there are no problems, then carry it out immediately. After all, the Empire's future lies in the hands of young people like you and me!"

"As the Empire's future, even if it is merely a small patrol mission, I hope you will not slack off. As long as all of us work together, the Empire's radiance will eventually shine upon every inch of this planet's land, allowing the entire world to experience the Empire's grace. So please continue striving with this expectation in your heart, Sergeant Wendy!"

John continued to carry forward the fine tradition of unscrupulous bosses selling dreams. With a gratified look, he stepped forward and patted his subordinate's shoulder, injecting her with the kind of chicken soup for the soul that had been all too common in his previous life.

Although every corporate beast of burden in his previous life knew that a company's glory ultimately belonged to its boss and had nothing whatsoever to do with workers like them, who were used as expendable resources—

That was because modern people had lived through an age of information explosion. In this other world, which did not even have the internet, it was a pure dimensionality-reduction strike.

Just look at Wendy, this foolish child. After hearing those words, the way she looked at him had changed from initial disgust to shock and excitement. It was clear just how intoxicating that rhetoric was.

"Yes, Captain John. Yes, for the Empire, I will absolutely not fail to live up to your expectations!"

After hearing such stirring words of encouragement, Wendy's little face immediately flushed red with excitement, and she could not help feeling ashamed of her earlier discourtesy.

She truly had not expected her officer to possess such awareness.

Captain John had clearly only issued his decision after careful consideration. He had even been willing to risk punishment from the battalion commander in order to strive for the Empire's advance.

Yet she had foolishly questioned the captain's decision. Although her former captain's failure had influenced her, Captain John was not that idiot. How could she bring the pain others had caused her upon him?

Wendy, you truly should not have done that!

Wendy's heart was filled with shame. Just as she was about to apologize to John for her earlier words, his lazy voice entered her ears once more the next instant.

"Oh, right, Sergeant Wendy. Remember to address me by rank while carrying out the mission. Stop calling me Captain all the time; it makes me sound like some small fry. You understand, right?"

"Otherwise, I will consider applying to the battalion commander to have you retake etiquette training. The paperwork for that is troublesome, so I hope you will pay attention next time."

"Yes, Sec-ond Lieut-en-ant John!"

Wendy replied coldly, enunciating every word. Then, trailing a cloud of dark energy behind her, she strode out of the room and slammed the door shut, so furious that her teeth clattered as she ground them together.

To hell with apologizing. That bastard John Maslow did not deserve it!