Attack on Titan Fanfiction – Between a Rock and a Hard Place: Chapter 3

Affairs of State

“The first item is for the Bureau of Ordnance: for procuring, producing, preserving and handling ordnance material, labor, fuel, material…the estimate is 40 million in place of the 20 million appropriated last year,” Horatio Kohl spoke, peering at the stack of papers while fiddling with his monocle. “Also, about the sum to be paid of this appropriation for services in naval yards, stations and ammunition amounting to 4 million. I’d like you to give us a full statement on that.”

“Mr Chairman, conditions have changed,” Jean replied. “The bureau has made every effort to submit a revised estimate after the Aniastulia incident. This figure will allow us to run with the number of men and ships expected to be in the Navy during the indicated fiscal year, excluding the Hospital Corps.”

After the presscon, Jean went on to his regular office work, with an entire backlog waiting for him, delayed due to the happenings on their northern shores. Feldman was on top of it and together they went through the agenda one by one.

What took up the most time was the hearing between the Secretary of the Navy and the Committee on Naval Affairs of the House of Commons. The chairman of the committee, Horatio Kohl, was here at the Navy HQ meeting room, sitting from across Jean. The scowl on his face showed how bad his mood was: the hearing was supposed to be held in the Parliament building but Feldman convinced the lawmaker and his team to drag their asses to the Navy HQ because his boss was knee-deep in work and so exhausted he could barely walk.

Normally a rear admiral took care of such matters but because they were undermanned and understaffed, Jean also doubled as the Chief of the Bureau of Ordnance, the branch responsible for the procuring, storing and issuing of equipment and ammunitions, including development and testing. Jean’s right hand man was his executive officer, First Lieutenant Darren Vogel, but at present he was in charge of the Aniastulia investigation and thus unable to attend. So it was just the admiral and his aide.

“The estimates are prepared, I assume, on a war basis?”

“Yes, Mr Chairman.”

“Where did you get the 40 million?”

“It’s the very lowest limit, consistent with both economy and efficiency,” Jean explained. “For your reference we had a 4.5 million balance from last year carried forward included in the 40 million. Labor and material at navy yards and stations estimated at 15 million, based on the proportionate rise in expenditures for the first and second quarters average of the current fiscal year over the corresponding periods of the previous year.” 

“What are you going to do in the navy yards and stations that will require all that labor and material?” the politician wanted to know. “Are you not stockpiling?”

“Mr Chairman, stockpiling is a misleading term. The Navy is not accumulating anything. This amount is simply to carry on the repairs of the ships and maintenance of materials currently in storage.”

“You need that much to repair ships?”

“Yes, Mr Chairman. Ship repairing is a tremendous monthly expenditure. My team has gone through every item in the past three years and have come to the conclusion that while transitioning from peace to war there will be a huge increase in expenditure incident to the addition of guns, communication devices and other ordnance material on merchant ships, including transports and other auxiliaries.”

“So previous fiscal year’s 20 million did not include any new material at all?”

“No, Mr Chairman, it did not. After the Aniastulia incident, and given the deteriorating negotiations with the Marleyan Alliance, it’s in our best interest to prepare for the worst. Thus the request for doubling of the budget.” 

“But how do you know it needs to be doubled, instead of, say, an increase of 25 percent?”

Politicians are really tight when it comes to handing over money to the military, but not when appropriating perks for themselves, Jean thought resignedly. “We cannot predict ahead of time the expense of certain work done in navy yards and stations, but as it’s absolutely necessary in ordnance we make this particular allotment. We hold each station down as low as we can and carry over the surplus to the next fiscal year’s budget. The Shiganshina Shipyard has an allotment, as with Utopia, Karanes and Krolva. They send a monthly estimate of their expenses for the next month and if we have it they get it, if not then everyone has to make do.

But there’s one caveat.”

“What?”

“This is possible only at peacetime. A large expenditure is necessary to convert the Navy to a war basis. If we carry on as before, ‘making do’ will prove catastrophic,” Jean explained as clearly as he could, before adding, “The cost of labor is rising sharply, given the death toll in the continental war. I see a 15 to 20 percent increase effective next month. The estimate allows for an increase in labor, which we will undoubtedly see.”

“The main work comes after we install the materials and keep them in operating condition,” Corey Feldman added helpfully.

“What else will be increased?” asked Kohl. It was obvious he didn’t bother to peruse the document beforehand.

“It’s necessary to increase the watchman and messenger service, along with clerical, drafting and inspection services, plus the chemist service, from 1.5 million to 3.5 million,” Jean replied. “This includes a provision for the transfer of the Navy Reserve Corps to the permanent roll.”

They go through the rest of the estimate, with Jean explaining his figures and Kohl bemoaning the huge sums. The back-and-forth went on for hours and took up the entire afternoon. 

Finally Horatio Kohl sighed and put down his monocle. It was dinner time and his stomach was starting to growl. He wanted to get this over and done with, especially because tonight his mistress was waiting for him in her apartment that he had bankrolled. He folded his hands together and gazed at the admiral. 

“You know, Jean, it strikes me that we are groping in the dark here, given the changed war conditions. Don’t you think we should extend the budgetary hearing for another week or two, so that we may act more intelligently? Don’t you think we need the Navy Secretariat and the entire bureau to come before the House of Commons and outline the future policy and needs of the Navy on a war basis? You are asking for a lot of money, Jean. We need to thoroughly discuss these far-reaching matters until we reach the same degree of enlightenment.”

Before Jean could reply his aide, Corey Feldman was saying coldly, “Mr Chairman, I contacted your secretary Miss Roth 48 hours ago and asked if it was possible to extend the deadline given the extraordinary happenings on our northern shore, but she insisted it wasn’t and that we needed to hold the hearing today on account of your tight schedule. Apparently she did not consult with you, nor did she brief you on our budget proposal because you seemed truly shocked and surprised at the amount. Might I suggest you get a new secretary, sir?” He finished with an air of impudence. 

Kohl forced out a laugh. “Ah, Mr Feldman, I apologize on Miss Roth’s behalf. She is preparing for a wedding, you see, and gets distracted sometimes.”

“With all due respect, sir, I suggest she go on leave and put in place someone who pays attention and reads the papers. I would like you all to know that Admiral Kirschtein has been at work without sleep for the past 52 hours, and now you make him sit through a hearing at which you are unable to make a decision. Admiral Kirschtein is already scheduled to speak in Parliament–both houses–on the 9th next week, but apparently you are unaware of that because Miss Roth got distracted.”

“Corey…” Jean tried to interrupt. 

But Feldman was not finished. “Might I also point out, Mr Chairman, that Admiral Kirschtein did outline the future policy and needs of the Navy on a war basis at the military caucus on the 14th last month. We held the caucus after we got word from the Foreign Affairs Ministry that the talks with the new Marleyan government were on the verge of breaking down. It was a caucus that you attended, sir–and I point this out in case you have forgotten already. But because you slept throughout the Admiral’s speech, and might I add, the speeches of the Army and Air Force heads, none of what was said made any impact on your lackadaisical decision-making process…”

“Corey, enough!” Jean cut him short. After some mutual glaring Jean succeeds in calming down both parties and they manage to agree to the new change in schedule. 

“What an impertinent young man!” Horatio Kohl complained to Jean as they walked out the door together. 

“Let it go, Horatio,” Jean said. “He’s young and doesn’t yet know how to pick his battles. Join me at the mess hall?”

“Navy chow sucks!”

“All the more reason why you should approve my estimate.”

“Get some sleep, Jean.”

“I’ll do that, don’t you worry. Were you really sleeping during my speech last month?”

“You’re a boring man, Jean Kirschtein. You soldier types are.”

The admiral laughed good-naturedly. “That’s ironic, coming from a former Military Police officer.” 

“I was far more boring then than I am now,” Kohl insisted.

Jean snickered, giving the politician a once-over. He wasn’t that much older than Jean but already the dark hair on his temples had turned white, he was sporting a generous paunch, and had a bald spot on his head, clearly visible to the admiral who towered over him. Horatio Kohl was once a commissioned officer in the Military Police, but when Paradis transitioned to a civilian government Kohl and his ilk jumped ship, becoming the elected MPs, the Members of Parliament. Nothing much has changed about them, however: they sought political power to protect their own skins. From ‘godforsaken MP’ to ‘goddamn MP’, the military brass liked to joke.

Because Kohl was a former military man he was given the task of heading several military-related committees. But the truth was that he couldn’t be bothered. As long as he got his pretty house in the capital and enough dough to keep a mistress he was quite happy with himself and content with the status quo. Jean couldn’t help but wonder if, without Marco and Eren’s influences, he’d have ended up a Kohl-like creature.

“If I catch you sleeping during my speech next week, I’ll throw my flask at you.”

“Then I’ll make sure your estimate doesn’t get approved.”

Jean laughed and clapped him at the back. “You’ll do no such thing, Mr Chairman. In fact, now that you’ve given me more time to revise my estimate I think I’ll ask for triple last year’s amount.”

“The committee will never sanction that.”

“I may be boring, but you’re a wet blanket, Horatio.”

“You certainly are full of yourself.”

And with that they parted. Without further concern Jean compartmentalized the task as ‘done’ in his head. For he had a secret weapon against Horatio Kohl. The politician had a great weakness: he was in love with their luminous Queen Historia. The mistress he kept was–not surprisingly–cute, blonde, blue-eyed and petite. Guess what kind of role-playing he tasked her to perform each time he went to see her? “Give Jean what he’s asking for,” the real Queen will tell the MP and he’ll do just that, even throwing in a discretionary fund to prove what a generous fellow he was.

More paperwork awaited Jean, so after dinner that tasted like paper he and Feldman went back to work until midnight.

“I can’t stand that lazy sonofabitch politico and his incompetent staff,” Feldman remarked in a huff. “Why’s he giving the Navy a hard time when he’s really clueless to begin with? Why does he even have to exist?”

“You know the answer to that, Corey,” Jean replied patiently. “Politicians may be infuriating but they have a role to play. Good government requires separation of powers. There’s the independent judiciary; the military falls under the executive branch, which derives its legitimacy from its ability to command the confidence of the legislature, in our case the Parliament. Why do you think this type of system’s necessary?”

“To prevent the concentration of power by providing for checks and balances,” Feldman answered morosely.

“Exactly,” said Jean. “Paradis seeks to present itself to the international community as a modern nation: a parliamentary democracy and constitutional monarchy. Being a military dictatorship inspires neither trust nor confidence.”

“I’d rather have you be the dictator of the island, admiral, that have that bellend make the laws,” Feldman muttered.

Jean shook his head. “An authoritarian regime will be a step backward for us. Dictators get drunk on power, Corey. They tend to abuse it,” he said, wincing as the memory of Floch Forster flashed in his mind. “Dictatorships eventually implode, creating chaos and preventing a smooth and peaceful transition from one form of government to the next. Dictators tend to incite violent revolution and bloodshed before they self-destruct. It’s almost always just a matter of time.”

As the midnight clock struck Jean sat on his desk and looked over some files that Feldman had left for his perusal. He couldn’t help it as his mind wandered back to the Aniastulia. The enormity of what happened left him asking the dreaded questions: Would it have been better for Paradis if HMS Erwin Smith had not involved itself at all? If she simply turned her back on the sinking the Aniastulia, headed straight to port as scheduled, and sailed from there to do the rescue?

The ocean liner did not record their presence in the first place. Or he could have stayed in place and slightly delayed the Erwin Smith’s response. But he didn’t have time to consider the political ramifications when he saw the passengers in need of help. What was the price he would ask Paradis to pay for his jerk leg reaction of sailing to the rescue and being the first at the scene of the crime?  

As the two powerful nations of Cistidu and Noblain battled it out in a brutal war that seemed to have no end in sight, Paradis kept itself out of the way. All this time they managed to remain neutral. Now their island was caught in the quagmire. 

Admiral Jean Kirschtein blamed himself. But what was he supposed to have done? He sighed again, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. All he wanted to do tonight was go home to his wife.

Royal Marines Major Mikasa Ackermann, of course, was not at home in the capital but was with her Commandos fighting alongside Navy Battle Group 4 down south, protecting their merchant ships from pirates that seemed to sprout like mushrooms. The more trade flourished between Paradis and other nations the worse the pirate scourge became. The sea marauders off the Coast of Shiganshina were the worst of the lot. Goddamn pirates, Jean thought bitterly.

He pressed his fingers to his throbbing temples before lowering himself on the bed. But his brain was busy thinking things over, trying to make sense of the senseless, turning issues around and around in his head so as to see all the angles. There would be no sleep for him tonight, though heaven knows he needed more than a few winks. 

His thoughts turned to his wife. Mikasa always knew when he was ruminating and unable to sleep. Usually she’d fuck his brains out until he was so satiated he’d fall into a deep and relaxing sleep. Oh Mikasa, my lovely wife, he thought with great longing, what I’d give to be in your arms tonight.

Just then there was a knock at the door. His aide, Corey Feldman. “Telegram, sir,” he handed Jean a piece of paper. It was a bunch of numbers in their military shorthand, but he deciphered it in seconds.

“The number of casualties… children too… So sorry… Hang in there… You did the right thing… Thinking of you… I love you… Dreaming of you tonight.”

M

Jean sighs again, but this time it was a happy one. He kisses the piece of paper and closes his eyes. Mikasa never spoke much, but she liked to write to him, send him little notes and telegrams, somehow knowing each time when he needed her the most. It was like receiving a glowing orb of light that sent not just brightness but also warmth into the loneliness of another night spent alone and away from her.

He focuses on her message, on the love she had sent him via wire. Forget the crisis, just for tonight, and think of your beloved, Jean disciplines his mind. Which jeankasa moment will he revive? One of his favorites, that time they made love in the shower. He concentrates, reliving the sights and sounds of that moment, the scent of her, the feel of her skin, her teasing laughter. Ahh. 

Thank you so much for reading! Please take a moment to share a thought or two in the comment section below. Your comments give me life and are a real source of encouragement. xoxo – hana

Next – Chapter 4: A Warm Shower

Back – Chapter 2: Like a Broken Record

Reference:

United States Congress House Committee on Naval Affairs. (1919). Hearings before the Committee on Naval Affairs of the House of Representatives on Estimates Submitted by the Secretary of the Navy. Government Printing Office.