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My browbeating of the military didn't have quite as much of an effect as I had hoped.

Three generals and one admiral resigned over the course of the next week. I made sure that they were treated well on the way out the door. I even wrote an editorial for the Berun Post summarizing what had happened and praising them for their integrity. I wished them all the best in their new civilian lives. I hoped they would prove more effective on the campaign trail than they had during the military campaigns at the end of the war.

That last bit was my private wish for them, not something I included in the editorial.

Not everybody felt so sanguine. Elya managed to buttonhole me as I was on the way out of my office to finish preparing for the big meeting.

"Excuse me, Chancellor, about those generals-" she began, sounding concerned, before I cut her off.

"No need to do anything," I said. "After all, they were honorable enough to resign over a matter of principle."

Elya looked unconvinced, but she could see that I wasn't going to budge on the matter. After a moment she gave a reluctant nod.

"Besides, you have enough on your plate already," I said, tapping my chin as I thought things over. "Actually, you can stop doing political polling."

She did have a lot of responsibility. Even if I liked to get the most out of the human resources at my disposal, I understood that if you just keep piling new tasks onto people they'll eventually burn out. Besides, I had my own reasons for wanting our local polling operations to fade away.

After all, I was going to be working hard to undermine our party's appeal. It would be troublesome if somebody noticed what I was doing ahead of time. By cutting off our own polling operations I could probably push that moment of realization out until after the election. Besides, it wasn't like I needed the input of an extensive polling operation when all I wanted to do was lose support.

"Do you want me to stop completely?" Elya asked. She sounded a little chagrined.

She must have enjoyed the work more than I realized. Also, once I thought about it, I remembered that I'd gotten her to sign on as my new spymistress before she understood that a good pollster could make a comfortable living in the private sector. By the time she knew, she must have felt like she couldn't go back on her promise. That was no good. I didn't want somebody working for me out of a sense of obligation. I decided to offer her a way out.

"Well, do you want to be your own boss?"

She reacted like I had just slapped her. "Absolutely not!"

I felt a little guilty for questioning her dedication. I reached out and patted her on the shoulder.

"Then just focus on your other work," I said. "We don't need to worry about the polls any more."

"Understood," she said, nodding with enthusiasm this time. I smiled, then turned and headed for General Lergen's office. I was meeting with him to make sure that the two of us were on the same page before presenting our vision for the future to the General Staff.

Fortunately, I had set out a little early, so I still arrived at the meeting with time to spare. I could have gotten away with making General Lergen wait around, but it would have been a poor start to an important collaboration.

Our military reconstruction was not something that I wanted to mess around with for political purposes. If our army was too weak, we could wind up having to fight off an invasion before I was safely out of office. Conversely, if we spent too much money building up an enormous fighting force, my successor might just invade some neighbor or other in order to recoup the investment. Striking the right balance was important.

I was actually looking forward to it. Starting a project from a blank slate with a sizable budget appealed to that part of me that enjoyed playing SimCity. My enthusiasm was only slightly dampened by the fact that Being X would surely be clicking on his equivalent to the disaster spawning button the moment I felt I had everything under control.

General Lergen welcomed me into an office that was filled with maps, reference books, and pieces of paper covered with scrawled out facts and figures.

"This is a little exciting, isn't it?" I said. "Building an army from scratch."

He gave me a blank look. I felt a little sheepish. Not only had we had to throw out his hard work in drawing up plans for an army that could conquer the Francois Republic due to the expense involved, but also anything we could do would pale in comparison to the scale on which the Empire used to operate.

"Of course, we won't be anywhere close to the power of the Empire's military," I said.

"That's true," Lergen said, politely neutral.

I felt bad, but the math was clear. If we tried to support an army the size of the Empire's then we'd be bankrupt inside of five years.

"It can't be helped," I said. "Our economy simply can't measure up to the Empire's."

"Not just the economy," Lergen said, "we've lost so much territory and population."

"Well, that much could be overcome with a strong enough industrial base," I said. "Though even the Empire's strength wasn't enough, in the end."

I saw a stricken expression cross his face. I could relate. After all of the effort that the Empire had put into building a top rate military force, not to mention my own personal investment of blood, sweat, and tears, it was a terrible shame that the whole thing had been so thoroughly destroyed.

With any luck, we could walk a peaceful road in the future and avoid such senseless waste.

Of course, if we had simply wanted to match the number of men the Empire had under arms, we could have done it. The problem would be that such a group would be roughly as useful as the Dacian army. Instead, we wanted to build a modern military. The frustrating part of modernizing your military is that you're never really finished. As soon as a new tank runs off the assembly line it's nearly out of date. If you don't start spending money designing its replacement you're falling behind.

It was a thorny problem. Broadly speaking, I saw three approaches we could take in regard to modernizing our forces.

First, we could build up a huge army and continually replace its weapons as they became obsolete. This was the model the Empire used for years and was proven to create a military worthy of a great power. The problem was that it required the economy associated with a great power to do such a thing. We'd quickly ruin ourselves if we set off down this road.

Second, we could build up a huge army, make sure that all of its weapons were modern at one point in time, and then launch a war before those weapons went obsolete. Doing that sort of thing let you punch above your weight for a while. The problem was that if the war lasted more than one or two years your inability to replace aging weapons systems would spell doom for your forces. Also, people get pretty upset when you invade them without any justification. Taking this kind of approach could easily wind up with our country split into two and put under continuous occupation for decades.

Finally, we could maintain a small army and continuously modernize its weaponry as needed, and wait to mobilize a larger force until the last possible minute. This was the approach Albion had taken since time immemorial. We couldn't take it to the same extreme, lacking a convenient body of water to place between ourselves and our enemies, but the basic theory was sound. As long as our standing army was good enough to delay an invasion force until our reserves could mobilize, we should be all right.

Fortunately, our overall strategic situation had been clarified by the dissolution of the Empire. We actually had friendly countries on our borders now. Our only hostile neighbor was the Republic of Francois. Of course, the Russy Federation could come smashing through Pullska and the Ildoan Kingdom could reach through Osterry to cause us some trouble, but in either case we'd have time to prepare while the enemy fought through hostile territory that wasn't our responsibility to defend. Most of the Russite army was also busy a thousand miles away from us, which was nice.

Accordingly, our strategic goal for the next year or two would be to build up an army capable of holding off a Francois invasion force. I actually preferred to keep it a little smaller than the Francois army. If they felt threatened by us, it could easily lead to an unproductive arms race. Better to keep things low key.

With the basic strategy decided, all that was left was to review what we knew about the Francois army and decide what was needed to stop them from pushing through our defensive lines. The details could be filled out by the General Staff, but I wanted to at least have a rough estimate on hand before I met with them.

The final number wasn't as high as I'd expected. An army roughly two thirds the size of theirs, with more generous proportions of armor and aerial mages, looked like it should be able to do the job.

"I'm glad we can get by with that small of an army."

"Oh?" Lergen asked. "I thought you'd want a more powerful force."

"As long as they can do the job, it's fine," I said. "Besides, the less burden we put on the economy, the more it can grow. In the long term, that will circle back to strengthen the military."

He nodded, though he looked a little pained. I guess the Empire never had to choose between a strong military and a strong economy. After a moment he had worked through his disappointment, checking his notes before moving on to the next topic. "You're committed to this 'air force' idea?"

"The army fights the enemy on the land. The navy fights the enemy at sea. It makes sense to have an air force to fight the enemy in the air," I replied. "The missions of obtaining air superiority and delivering bombs are specialized enough, and important enough, to merit their own branch of the service."

He shrugged. "I suppose the fear of adding more bureaucracy hasn't ever stopped us from doing anything in the past."

"That's the spirit," I said. "Also, considering our strategy, we need to make sure that in an emergency we can build up our forces as quickly as possible."

Our strategy wasn't actually that different from the Empire's. It's just that where the Empire kept a central army ready to go that was strong enough to conquer any country daring enough to cross its borders, our reserve forces would be entirely virtual until the fighting started. Throwing an army together during a war wasn't something that went smoothly if you didn't plan for it ahead of time.

Lergen nodded. "I'll make sure we put an emphasis on training and organizing the reserves."

"We'll also need to make sure their equipment is designed with an eye for mass production," I said. "Tanks, planes, trucks, artillery, even uniforms."

I had benefited during my military career from the Empire's willingness to turn Dr. Schugel loose to build custom equipment for any particular mission. However, using Dr. Schugel or his counterparts in other fields to craft artisanal weapon systems was not a sound basis for a mass army. Especially if we wanted to be capable of conjuring army groups from thin air on demand.

I had taken a good look at the Empire's supply system when I'd written my paper on logistics. Its ability to produce supplies for so many slightly different but completely incompatible platforms was nothing short of miraculous. While I could admire the Empire's ability to do such a thing, that didn't mean that I wanted to pony up the cash required to reproduce it. I'd rather just keep things simple to begin with.

Lergen sighed. "I'm afraid that's a battle that can only be fought, and never truly won."

"We'll have to do our best," I replied. I stood, lacing my fingers together as I stretched my arms out. It had been a long morning. It was about time for lunch, which would be followed by the larger meeting. I put my hands on my hips and turned far enough to pop my back. Even if the work wasn't physically taxing, the responsibility for protecting the whole country weighed heavily on my mind.

At full stretch, I could see General Lergen packing up. I cocked my head as a thought suddenly occurred to me.

"Do you ever miss the Emperor?"

Lergen stiffened slightly, pausing in his packing. He reached up to fiddle with his glasses for a moment in thought before he spoke.

Honestly, he wasn't much involved with running the Empire."

"Yeah. I guess I just miss the idea of the Emperor, sometimes," I said. "You know, the idea that there's somebody up above everything with the best interests of the nation at heart."

I worried, sometimes, about the lack of checks and balances in the Germanian political system. If somebody came up behind me with a solid majority backing their actions, they'd pretty much be able to do whatever they wanted. The closest thing the country had to an independent institution was the military. I respected our generals, I really did, but they weren't exactly a stalwart force for peace.

In the Empire, by contrast, there was always a sort of push and pull between the Emperor, the aristocracy, and the military. It wasn't a particularly democratic system, and the military probably won more of those tug of wars than it lost, but the existence of multiple power blocks had created a sense of stability.

"I believe President Rudersdorf is well positioned for such things," Lergen replied.

"Sure. He could be voted out if he tried to stand against the passionate mob, though," I said, then shrugged. "Well, I shouldn't waste time on nostalgia. Let's get going."

Lunch was fine. The meeting after lunch also went more or less as expected.

I could tell that the generals and admirals were a bit disappointed with the level of funding being proposed. With the end of the Treaty of Triano's restrictions, it was only natural to feel like the Imperial days were back again. Unfortunately, just because our enemies were no longer restricting our military spending didn't mean we could spend whatever we wanted. The government's balance sheet was actually pretty decent-expenditures had been cut to the bone during the hyperinflation-but that was no excuse for irresponsible spending. In the end, everybody just had to accept that our country was smaller than it used to be, leading to a corresponding reduction in size of its standing army.

The only real pushback on military policy came from the navy. In the end, I don't think they believed in my prediction of the importance of air power to future naval battles or of the nearing obsolescence of ship to ship guns. However, they did believe that I was unwilling to release a pfennig toward the construction of a cruiser or battleship.

They could figure out how to sink capital ships with torpedoes and airplanes, or the navy could operate as a glorified coast guard. Either one was fine with me.

At the end of the meeting we had reached a consensus on the broad outlines of Germania's strategic posture, at least for the next year. It was up to the General Staff to fill in the details and develop a concrete plan of action.

Later that week, it was my great pleasure to appoint Mattheus Weiss to the position of commander of the aerial mage group in the new air force, reinstating him to the military and promoting him to the rank of general. He had more than earned it. During the war he had proven his personal capabilities many times over, both in terms of his combat prowess and in his ability to command. After the war he had shown tremendous dedication, continuing to hone his abilities even after being let go from the military with no realistic prospect of rejoining.

On a more personal level, I was happy to have him in place so that he could resume his old role from our time in the 203rd: being delegated all of the aerial mage related tasks that I didn't want to deal with. He was still responsible for supervising Dr. Schugel, of course. He was also responsible for rebuilding the country's aerial mage combat force. It was an enormous undertaking, from recruitment to the construction of computation orbs to training.

He did have the advantage of having the mages from our security auxiliary at his disposal. Well, most of them. I had requisitioned a few for my security detail. It was a bit silly, having guards who would require guarding if I was ever attacked. At least with an aerial mage cohort as my bodyguard I could focus on saving myself if something went wrong.

I also requisitioned a company of mages from the air force to accompany a diplomatic delegation to the Akitsukushima Dominion. Also accompanying the diplomats would be a team of ship designers. I hoped they could negotiate access to the Akitsukushiman aircraft carriers in order to give us a leg up on designing our own. I wasn't sure exactly what they would want in return, but I figured a company of aerial mage volunteers would be appreciated. And, of course, killing commies was always its own reward.

Other than that, things were relatively uneventful for a while. I had a thousand and one things to do to keep me busy, of course, but nothing went horribly wrong. The economy even showed some signs of true recovery as the months passed. Removing both the shadow of prospective war and the need to pay reparations had given the whole country a sense of optimism.

One interesting bit of trivia was brought to my attention by the finance minister: while the price of coal had dropped noticeably thanks to increased production, the value of our currency had hardly moved. If the trend continued we would find ourselves with a de facto fiat currency. That opened up some interesting possibilities. Not that I wanted to raise the specter of hyperinflation by dramatically weakening the new mark, but it was always nice to have more choices.

I did make the time to make the occasional policy move aimed at alienating our coalition partners. My most dramatic move, though, I kept under wraps for now. The funding for the People's Car project came from a fund dedicated to the promotion of the use of highways. The whole project wasn't exactly up to the standards of military secrecy, but I made sure the initial factory was built in a remote area and did my best to keep it quiet.

The more time the program had to develop, the more attached my party would be to its continued existence. The closer to election time that the program was revealed, the less time our coalition partners would have to get over their anger.

A little more than six months had passed when Anton Ehrlich reached out and let me know that he had finished his proof of concept prototype. I was curious to see how his People's Car had developed, so I decided to drop by to take a look.

The ability to use a computation orb out in the open made it a quick jaunt out to visit the plant. It was located a little ways east of Berun, in a small village next to a small river in an area best described as "sleepy." It was a cold day in the middle of January, but that sort of thing was no real problem for any halfway competent mage.

Ehrlich was waiting for me when I touched down. He was bundled up against the weather and didn't waste any time ushering me inside. The factory had that impressive appearance that came along with a lot of brand new machinery being packed into one place, though a closer look showed that it was something like halfway operational. Ehrlich shed his coat before leading me further inside. The building's interior was well heated by the operational portions of the factory.

It didn't take long before we reached the cleared area of the factory floor that served as a stage for Ehrlich's baby. It was, well, it was a car, all right.

Most of the cars that I had seen since I'd been reborn into the Empire had a certain level of panache. Long, swooping lines, more than a little bit of art deco flair, and aggressive styling were all common. They might not have had the technical sophistication of the modern cars from my previous life, but at least they looked good.

Ehrlich had decided to away from that trend. Where most cars housed their engines in an impressive prow that thrust forth to cut through the air, his brainchild had a nose like a boxer that had gone one too many rounds in far too many fights. The whole thing was oddly bulbous. Curved, but not the sleek curves of a sports car. Rather, if I had to say that he had taken design inspiration from anywhere, I would say he decided to make an igloo out of metal and put it on wheels.

I kept my expression neutral and held my tongue as I walked a slow circle around the prototype. I held out hope that I might find a flattering angle, but I had to give that up as I found myself returning to Ehrlich's side.

"It's certainly unique," I said. "How did you come up with the design?"

"It was carefully crafted after painstaking work in a wind tunnel," he said.

"So you can't change anything about it?"

"Why would you?" he asked. "It's perfect!"

So much for that idea. Well, at least I wouldn't have to worry about any problems arising from selling too many of the things.

I carefully held in a sigh. "You said this is a functional prototype?"

Ehrlich nodded, before climbing inside the car. I felt a little bit of hope blossoming as he turned the key. People would forgive design flaws as long as the car's performance was good. That hope started to wither as the car started up with a sound better described as a putter than a roar.

He stepped out of the car, leaving it in idle, then moved around to the back for some reason. I followed him, so I was in position to be surprised by the appearance of a small engine as he threw open what I had expected to be the trunk.

"Don't most cars have the engine in the front?" I asked.

"Most cars are designed by plodding mediocrities," Ehrlich said. "Time will show the genius of my design."

Now, I was no expert on the automobile, but I knew that in the future cars were built with their engines in the front. Surely somebody must have experimented with rear engines at some point. The market had then judged such designs and apparently found them wanting. This whole project was looking like more of a turkey by the minute.

Looking at the undersized engine, another concern started worming through my mind. "Can this thing actually reach 100 kilometers per hour?"

"Of course," Ehrlich said, "although it needs a bit of space. If you have the time we can head to the autobahn ten miles south of here to use an appropriate straightaway."

I cast my mind back to the landscape I had seen on my way in. "Isn't that downhill?"

"It felt level to me," he replied.

"Did the car hit 100 kilometers per hour on the way back?" I asked.

"We're not done with all of the testing yet," Ehrlich said, before pausing to clear his throat. "This engine is air cooled and makes twenty six horsepower. I did consider using a water cooled engine that makes forty horsepower."

"Why didn't you?" I asked.

"It adds a little bit to the cost, and it could hurt reliability unless it's properly maintained," Ehrlich said. "I could rebuild the prototype with the bigger engine."

That sounded like absolutely the last thing this car needed. It was already slow and ugly. At least if it was cheap we could sell some of them. The more reliable the car, the less likely those purchasers would come to hate it.

"No. No, think about the target market," I said. "Expensive or complicated maintenance is no good."

He nodded in acceptance before closing up the back, walking around, and turning off the car. At least the door made a nice solid thunk as he slammed it shut.

"The factory is coming along nicely," Ehrlich said, "though my projections show it would be much easier to hit the target price if I could negotiate the worker's compensation."

The overall structure of the People's Car project was, I thought, reasonably fair. Twenty percent of the stock had been given to Ehrlich and to a plant manager who had been recommended to me by Paul Däumler, to be distributed among the management team as they saw fit. Thirty-one percent had been reserved for the workers. Forty-nine percent was held by the government. However, until the money the government had invested in the project had been paid back, no dividends could be issued and none of the privately-held stock could vote.

As a result, I had the final say on every decision, although I left the day to day management to the professionals. Ordinarily with that kind of structure I would worry that the managers would try to carve out sinecures for themselves, but the plant manager's reputation for integrity was impeccable and Ehrlich had the drive of a fanatic. Instead, the only ongoing headache as far as corporate governance went were Ehrlich's continual efforts to chip away at the workers' pay.

"Absolutely not," I said.

A steady stream of good-paying jobs and cheap cars were required in order for this project to develop a political constituency. The appeal of the car certainly wasn't going to be enough. Besides, I thought the single-minded focus on reducing wages was short-sighted from a corporate point of view. When I worked in HR, I never hesitated to fire malingerers, but I never begrudged the pay given to good workers.

"Even if I were to allow it, there's a limit to how low you can drive their pay. There's no limit to human productivity," I said. "The amount you pay your workers is fixed. The value of the work is up to you."

He didn't seem entirely convinced by the argument, but I at least managed to convince him that I wouldn't be moved. All in all, I couldn't say whether the project would be successful in its stated goal of promoting motoring, but I was satisfied that I had achieved my personal goal of acquiring a weapon to use to destroy my political coalition.

ooOoo

Another, more exciting, project came to fruition a couple of weeks later when it came time for the demonstration of the competing attempts to satisfy the army's requirements for an assault rifle. The event was held in a military facility on the outskirts of Berun, and attracted quite a few movers and shakers. Most of the army's higher ups were in attendance, as were the executives of the firearms companies. The idea that the army might select a new rifle as its primary infantry weapon was enough to catch anybody's eye.

I sat on a grandstand together with Visha and General Lergen. The crowd had fallen silent when we'd arrived, but by the time we took our seats the buzz of normal conversation had resumed.

"The army has been doing some test exercises based on the proposed specifications," General Lergen said. "They see a lot of potential in the assault rifle concept."

He sounded more resigned than excited. Naturally, it was easy to make any weapon look good in an exercise based on hypothetical specs. The true value of the assault rifle wouldn't be revealed until they could run tests with the real thing.

I nodded absently. I had my own reasons to look forward to this demonstration.

Although my high-handed approach to the military had caused some resignations, the dissident military leaders didn't seem to be getting much political traction. I couldn't say precisely without the benefit of political polling, but that was my gut feeling. I could only speculate as to the reason for their troubles.

One obstacle that I thought they were probably facing was my own reputation with the military, which should be at least somewhat positive. If the soldiers by and large had some affection for me, then it would naturally be hard to get people riled up over my undue level of influence over the army.

I didn't want to go too far and trigger a revolt, but I thought it shouldn't be too hard to erode any positive feelings the army felt for me. I should already have a bit of a reputation as a swaggering martinet who made unreasonable demands of the people around her. All I had to do was reinforce that perception. After all, nobody likes an outsider telling them how to do their own job.

The base commander introduced the sergeant who would be conducting the tests, having been chosen for his sharpshooting prowess. He then introduced each of the prototypes in turn. To my eye, they were quite similar to each other and quite similar to the AK-47 that had inspired me to issue this request in the first place. They all had the distinctive banana shaped front magazine, and the overall length of each rifle was quite similar.

The prototypes proved similar in testing as well. All of them were easily capable of hitting a man sized target at 300 meters. The tester did an additional round at 400 meters without any trouble. He then tested out the automatic fire modes. Even knowing what was possible, it was impressive to see the same weapons that had managed such accurate shooting unleash a storm of bullets on demand.

From the murmurs of the crowd, the observing generals could see the potential in the new weapon. Even General Lergen had a certain eagerness in his eyes.

"I wonder if I might try out these wonderful designs," I called out, shamelessly abusing my position.

There was a little bit of back and forth, but naturally in the end the answer was yes. I made my way down the grandstand and towards the firing range while the good sergeant reloaded the prototypes. Meanwhile, Visha disappeared off towards one of the military storage units off to the side that we had requisitioned earlier. A moment later she reappeared, towing a cart that would ordinarily be pulled by a horse rather than a young woman.

Magic was handy sometimes.

I ignored the surprised comments from the crowd and focused on the supplies Visha had brought me. Finding the crate I was looking for, I tore off the front panel, revealing a sleeping pig. Drawing further on the Type 97, I gripped the pig by its forelegs and pulled it free to slam into the ground. The rough treatment roused the pig somewhat, although the cocktail of drugs in its system prevented it from getting to its feet. Well, I'd try to do this humanely.

While I was working through spell formulae in my head, Visha had grabbed a water barrel that was nearly her size and begun walking it over to where the prototypes were waiting. There were four more barrels on the cart and about forty feet between the cart and the firing position, so she'd left herself quite a bit of work to do.

I stopped paying any attention to what she was doing as I finished the necessary mental math. I needed to put all my focus on double-checking my work. Failure in front of all of those people would be unbearably humiliating. After the third time I'd checked over everything without spotting any mistakes, I shrugged and pulled the mental trigger.

It's possible to make a mage blade that's not attached to a mage. The power requirement goes up the farther the blade gets from your body, and the math gets trickier as well, but it's not impossible. It's just that for most purposes a bullet, or a spell attached to a bullet, is more effective. Mages, generally speaking, don't swoop through the battlefield surrounded by invisible blenders only because it's impractical.

In a calm environment I could afford to get a little fancy. Even incorporating a shield effect into the spell only pushed me to my limits, rather than beyond them.

When I activated the spell, there was a brief, alarmed squeal followed by what I could only describe as a pigsplosion. The pig's body was thoroughly mulched, the resulting mess splashing up to reveal the dome shaped shield I'd put over the whole thing before falling to the ground. I lowered the effect of the mage blades until the ground had been churned up into a slurry.

Releasing the spell allowed the smell to spread. Churned earth, fresh blood, the sewage-like tang of ruptured intestines, it all combined with the hint of cordite in the air from the earlier firing test to form a familiar perfume.

"Ah, that takes me back," I said, mostly to myself.

"I feel like there's something missing," Visha commented. She had paused next to me when I started the spell.

Looking down at the sludge, I couldn't help but agree that something was off. After a moment's thought, I remembered that the damp weather and poor drainage at the front meant that the artillery craters usually had puddles form on top of whatever else was in there.

I gestured to Visha and took the water barrel from her, pouring a generous measure on top of the pig's remains. I stopped and gave it back to her when there was an inch or so of standing water on top of the bloody mud. It looked right, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

"Hmm, I think you're right," I admitted.

"Ah," Visha exclaimed, sounding cheerful, "it needs time to rot."

"Yes, that's it," I said. She'd hit the nail on the head. The smell of fresh remains was just too clean. "Well, a test will always fall short of the real thing."

This time I followed behind her and gathered up the prototypes as she put the last barrel in position. Walking back over to the puddle I'd created, I tossed each rifle one by one to sink beneath the water and the mud.

The observers had been watching silently for a while, but my casual mistreatment of their prototypes sparked a murmur of protest.

"Let me remind you that you were not commissioned to build a museum display piece. You were not asked to build an ideal target shooting rifle," I said, addressing the manufacturing representatives. "You were asked to build a soldier's weapon."

I gestured at the puddle.

"The soldier lives in the blood and the mud and the filth of the front lines. He cherishes his weapon, yes, but the circumstances constrain his ability to take care of it," I said. "After he crawls hundreds of feet through a storm of artillery shells in order to bring his rifle to bear on the enemy, the average soldier is not particularly concerned about shot groupings. He is worried about one thing: will it shoot?"

With that, I fished one of the prototypes out of the mud and headed back to the firing position. I dunked it into one of the barrels and moved it around a bit to wash the mud off, then pulled it out and let the water drain. Taking aim at the target, I pulled the trigger. The rifle fired well enough, but it stuck in the open position. I was able to cycle it manually, take aim, and fire again. After working through ten rounds that way, I set it aside.

The next two rifles each failed to fire entirely when given the same treatment. The final rifle had to be manually cycled several times but then was able to fire in semi-automatic fashion without any special treatment. I set it together with the first, then turned to address the audience.

"Of course, on the battlefield, you have to anticipate a certain amount of jostling around," I said.

The firing range was set up with a bench that could be used for more precise shooting. I took each rifle in turn, gripped it by the stock, and gave the bench a few good whacks with the magazine. This time, both of the rifles required a manual cycle between each shot.

Finished with my demonstration, I turned again to address the crowd.

"The rifle that wins this competition will be used against the enemies of the fatherland wherever they may be. In the freezing cold of winter and the sweltering heat of summer, our soldiers will rely on this rifle," I said. "Go, and in the next round of testing, bring me a weapon worthy of becoming the strong right arm of Germania!"

Perhaps my abusive behavior and unreasonable requirements could inspire the designers to new heights. I hoped so, for the army's sake. I was confident, though, that I had at least managed to take the shine off of my own reputation.