India In Another World

Chapter 18: No Direction

June 16th, 1636, off the western coast of Feplaria

The dark elf country of Feplaria was, for the most part, rather lacking in distinct features. Picturesque locations were rare and few. Most of the country was the same all over; dull, green forests with tall trees with pointed, long leaves populating stubby, rolling hills and mounds. That, or flat, plain land shrouded with vegetation. That was as far as the variety went.

Such a shame, Varitan thought. These savages had, in all likeliness, never seen something like a desert, or a scenic hill station, with their own eyes. As the car cruised on, he wondered for a moment how they would react were they to ever visit the Inalbelle.

'Cruised on' was most likely an exaggeration. The old 'Garrikwagon', as it was named, was barely chugging along at five miles per hour. At such slow speeds, he felt miserable. Maybe riding a horse would have been a better idea, he thought.

The Garrikwagon Model 2 was an old lady. A large four-seater tourer built by the Garrik Motor company back in Nyllnoris, it had been converted and modified thoroughly. A new, twenty-horsepower engine, more spacious interior, and a bigger trunk for storing cargo. Wider wheels, stronger suspension, together with a larger fuel tank, made the car a lot more friendly to drive on unpaved roads, at the cost of removing all the luxurious amenities the original manufacturer had awarded it with.

Still, to the young elf, it was slow. Peering out into the bland scenery outside, he wondered whose bright idea this was. The name 'Garrik' was no longer in fashion. It was a relic of the past, something he looked at with awe in his eyes back when he was still a twenty-three-year-old toddler. It was akin to fawning over one's favourite cartoon show on TV during childhood, then forgetting it after growing up. Apparently, the elves had had trouble with the latter.

The Garriks weren't the only ones. The HEF units had been supplied with a wide variety of old, modified vehicles like this one. The primary line of reasoning had been that these vehicles were a lot less complicated, rugged and easy to maintain than modern ones. Something that was rather important considering Feplaria didn't have a lot of mechanics or workshops around to service vehicles. Then there was also the psychological factor. The old car was relatable, more familiar. It resembled a horse-drawn carriage more, an object that the poor natives associated with royalty and figures of power. Even more so once a proper narrative had been planted in their minds.

Such a flawed idea, the agent thought. While he couldn't speak for the latter, the former he could confidently refute. The cars were an absolute menace. These were aged ladies that had been reskinned and put to work long after their optimum working age, and it was already starting to become a problem. Breakdowns were becoming frequent, so much so that each motor convoy needed a team of mechanics and engineers travelling along. Vehicles were never used unless they were travelling in large convoys; the natives' annoying tendency to crowd the broken vehicles was rather problematic. Nyllnoris wasn't helping things either. Resupply and logistics were delayed, causing a shortage of spare parts and equipment. Consequently, this delayed work; nobody could get anywhere on time. An annoying cycle that only compounded the problems. Less work, less results. Less results, less priority, less logistic support. Lesser logistic support, lesser work, and even less results.

High command was desperate. Too much money and resources were being sunk in the program, and all they had managed to dig up so far were old trinkets and garbage. For archaeologists and historians, they might have been extremely invaluable evidence of some ancient civilization, but the military planners and the leaders cared little. For them, it was the same as random piece of trash anybody could find in a dustbin or a landfill. They cared little of anything beyond their own world, drowning and thrashing in their own worries and needs, and the means to satiate them. For them, any 'powerful ancient civilization' meant little unless it could give them a powerful piece for their puny chessboards of politics and war.