Disclaimer: I do not own Youjo Senki

Further note: This story's discussion thread is on SpaceBattles Forum's Creative Writing section.

Chapter 8

March 2, 1926, Londinium

I should have known my bad luck (or Being X) would not have allowed me to smoothly complete my escape to America. While I did not see any obvious signs of divine manipulation, I'm not ruling out the possibility that the wannabe god had learned a bit of subtlety.

The trouble started as I was making my way back to Sal's at around three. Ironically this had been a day completely free of illegal activity on my part. I'd only stepped out to enjoy a walk in the pleasantly cool afternoon. I was just a few blocks away when I noticed I was being followed.

It was a man in his thirties, dark hair, heavy jowls, otherwise unremarkable. Something in his bearing though reminded me of the military. He wasn't being subtle either, the way he was moving it was clear he was angling to catch up to me. Unfortunately for him, I'd spotted him just a bit too early. A quick movement to break line of sight, a moment's camouflage illusion to throw him off, and I was ducking into Solly with him none the wiser. Still, I needed to get off the street in case he proved persistent or called in reinforcements.

It was because of my hurry that I didn't spot the ambush. When I stepped into the pub, two strangers immediately stood up. They didn't look much different from the riffraff that usually populated the pub, but the intent gazes locked on to me and the suggestive hand movements towards their pockets told me all I needed to know.

"You Tina? We want a word -"

I didn't bother hearing him out. I'd already leaped back through the door, but turning around I skidded to a halt as I saw three men covering the street outside the pub. I remembered seeing them loitering as I went in, and cursed myself for not paying more attention. Two of them already had billy clubs out, and the third, a skinny weaselly looking sort, was fingering a revolver tucked into his waistband. Behind me, the two others stepped out of the pub with revolvers pointed at my head. "Nowhere to run, china doll. Now why don't you come quiet-like, we just have some questions for you."

Whether the first man had been official or not, there was no doubt these five were goons even Murdoch would have qualms about hiring. I wanted to scream at them I was Akinese, but now was not the time to indulge my pet peeve, they were clearly here as representatives of one of our less-than-reputable victims. The confidence with which they'd strolled into Murdoch's territory was also disquieting. Whether by luck or planning, they'd showed up at a time when very few of the gang was around. Certainly, none who would be willing to confront five armed men on my behalf. The closest would be Oliver who I noticed ducking around a corner, and the best I could rely on him for would be to run for reinforcements.

With two guns pointed at me, my only chance was to get in close and hope they hesitated to shoot at their own comrades. Channeling a shield strong enough to deflect even a single bullet might very well burn out my orb, and any obvious use of magic would out me completely. There were vanishingly few children my age trained in magic, and none so well known in Albion after all the publicity regarding my escape.

"All right, all right, what's this all about any way?" I asked, doing my best to inject a bit of fear in my voice as I kept my hands in sight.

"Oh you'll see." One of the gunmen from behind moved closer to grab me. I started to ready myself, spinning up my physical enhancement. Wait for the right moment...

"There you are!" The cry of feminine outrage cut right through the tension. Lena? What the fuck?

Completely ignoring the naked weapons, Lena marched out of the pub and planted herself between me and my closest assailant. "You are over two hours late for your shift, young lady! Do you know how the dishes have been building up? Get your butt in their right now before I whip it red!"

Even as she delivered her diatribe, she was dragging me out of the encirclement. Unfortunately for her, the second man that came from inside the pub, distinguished by a faded burgundy jacket, grabbed me right out of her hands. At the same time, the first pub-goer (whom I mentally dubbed 'Dead Man') slapped her hard enough to send her to her knees with a "Shut up!"

While her attempted rescue (I think?) might have failed, it did have the virtue of completely distracting my attackers. The man who grabbed me had his left hand wrapped around my neck from behind, but the hand holding the gun was stretched out and waving vaguely in Lena's direction. Well, far be it from me to turn down such an invitation. Channeling mage blades through my fingernails, I reached up and plucked the gun from his hand along with a large part of his thumb, and with a minute adjustment, put a bullet in Dead Man's eye.

The sudden report hammered our ears and caused everyone but me to flinch. Burgundy had already been flinching from the pain of losing a finger, and this made him completely lose his grip on me - but I didn't lose my grip on him. Grabbing his hand with my own free one, I ducked and spun, putting him between me and his compatriots. A point blank bullet into his kidneys removed any resistance on his part as I used his my free hand to grip his neck and use him as a shield while I searched for the third gunman. Sure enough, Weaselface had his gun out, and we both started shooting at the same time. He put a bullet into Burgundy, hastening the man's appointment with Being X, and I put two center of mass, knocking him flat. And it was then that I ran out of time.

The closer of the two club-armed men, whom I'd taken to calling Thug 1, had closed in with me and Burgundy. Now his club came around in a vicious arc aimed at my head. I crossed my hands to block the hit. Reinforcement meant only numbing pain instead of broken bones, but I couldn't cancel the momentum. The force knocked the gun from my hands and me off my feet. Even as my back hit the ground, he called out, "Get 'er Kirk!"

Looking to the side, I felt my insides freeze. Thug 2, now known as Kirk, had dropped his club, and was pulling out a gun of his own. He was also less than ten feet from me. I could feel the orb start to heat as I got to my feet. I had no choice but to try and tank his first shot and get within melee range. That's when Lena's voice called out "Stop!" and I saw something truly terrifying - a revolver in the shaking, wavering hands of an untrained civilian.

Lena fired. Everyone flinched. Including Lena, who promptly dropped the gun, slipped, and fell on her ass. And she managed to completely miss a large man less than fifteen feet away. I mentally cursed. I'd managed to draw my knife, but it was not balanced for throwing and knife-throwing was a skill I'd never practiced anyway, and Kirk's gun was back to pointing at me. I was just debating whether to dodge or rush when yet another interruption appeared.

Everyone in the locality had heard of Murdoch's skill with a knife. Now I got to see it for myself, and as with all things hyped, reality was disappointing. While Murdoch knew the basics, I was certain any combat instructor in the Imperial Army could thrash him in a spar. What he did have, however, was speed, coordination, and a complete lack of hesitation in going for the kill. In life-or-death combat, that last bit counts for a lot. He approached from the gunman's blind spot. His first strike knocked the gun aside, and the knife buried itself in Kirk's throat on the backswing. Murdoch even did a little shuffle to the side to dodge the blood spray as he pulled the knife out, and he did it all with as much fuss as cutting up his meat.

Suddenly finding himself outnumbered, Thug 1 did the smart thing and ran for his life. Neither I nor Murdoch were inclined to give chase. Instead, he turned towards Lena with a sardonic tilt to his lips as he waved at a crumpled figure on the ground behind the late Kirk, "Might not be the one you were aiming for, but hey, at least you got one of 'em."

I looked at the man lying on the ground, a gun fallen next to him, and I suddenly felt my throat go dry. "Murdoch," I whispered, "That's not one of them."

Lying there was the man who'd been chasing me earlier. The man I'd suspected of being a policeman. The man who was now staring blankly at me, a bullet hole drilled neatly between his eyes.

It was an hour later. Murdoch, Lena and I had relocated to a hideout away from Solly while that street drowned under the wave of policemen that had showed up to investigate. Lena looked pale, having thrown up everything in her stomach when she realized what she had done. I wasn't feeling too good myself, for other reasons. Four days! My ship is leaving in four days, and this happens!

Murdoch finally broke the silence, addressing Lena, "You can't stay in the country."

"Y-you said they'll think the bobby stumbled into a gang shootout."

"They'll think that at first. But there were too many people around. Sooner or later, someone's gonna talk, and then they'll be after you. Both of you. Five men dead on the street including an officer, this is huge. Scotland Yard's gonna be going crazy. You both need to get out."

His eyes came to rest on me as he finished speaking. Feeling a response was required, I gave a noncommittal, "Don't worry, I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. When's your boat leave?"

I fought to keep a bland face. "What boat?"

"Now is not the time to fuck with me," came the growl. "You been dealing with Duffy. His specialty is passports and travel papers. You don't use him unless you planning on taking a trip."

In the face of that logic, I had no choice but to capitulate. "Four days. The Olympic."

"America. Good enough. But you'll need a disguise, in four days the police are likely to have your description out."

I hid a grimace. I had indeed planned a disguise, something radically different from my Tatsumaki appearance. Now, though, if Murdoch was going to take an interest in my affairs, I'd have to use one that was believably possible with make-up.

"I'll get Duffy to change the papers and get Lena put in as you guardian."

"What?" The cry came from both Lena and I at the same time. Murdoch was unmoved.

"Lena need to get out. With a mess this big, outta town ain't enough, better be out of country. And you're gonna help, girl, 'cos she in this mess on your account."

I bit back protests that I hadn't asked for help - Murdoch was clearly in no mood to listen to reason. However, as I thought about it, I realized this was not as bad as it sounded. Sure, I was annoyed at having to babysit a civilian. But Lena was a steady sort, we were in the same trouble so I could count on her not to betray me, and having a guardian will draw much less attention than a child travelling on her own. Besides, she'd already shown willing to jump in front of a gun for me. Speaking of which... "Lena, why the hell did you jump in like that? You almost got shot!" I barked at the woman.

Murdoch also turned to glare at Lena, clearly agreeing with my question. Lena looked at the both of us, then shrugged. "You're my friend."

It took me a moment to unpack the sheer insanity behind that statement. While I admit I didn't have too many friends, I felt I knew the theory well enough to confidently state that you don't jump in the way of a bullet for a friend. Such deeds lie firmly in the province of lovers, family members, and highly trained bodyguards. Finally I found my voice, and decided that I needed to be brutally honest before she got herself killed and Murdoch mad at me. "Lena, I think of you as a friend as well, but I assure you I would never consider taking a bullet for you."

For some reason, she found this funny. After she got done laughing, she replied, "Well, that's you. But I'd rather do something than stand by and let you get kidnapped or killed or whatever they wanted. And that goes for you too Murdoch. I don't have enough friends that I can afford to let them go without a fight."

I turned to Murdoch for help, only to find him giving me a resigned look. "You see why she need looking after?"

I groaned. Of questionable effect it may have been, but she did take a big risk helping me. As a quid pro quo, escorting her to America and seeing her settled in wasn't asking too much. "All right, fine, we'll go to Duffy and get the new papers straightened out. We'll also need to buy a ticket for her, second class. And figure out a disguise for her."

"Wait, wait, I haven't agreed to this!" interjected Lena.

"Tough," replied Murdoch. "You're going. When I explain things to Sal, he'll wrap you up in a rug and carry you aboard his self." Seeing the stubborn set to her mouth, Murdoch's tone grew softer. "Lena, you stay, you'll be stuck looking over your shoulder for years, maybe forever. You a smart girl, you got big dreams, you can't follow them in a country with an arrest warrant over you head. And if you worried about you family, don't. You know me and Sal won't leave them to hang."

I was observing this conversation with interest. While I knew Lena and Murdoch had a good relationship, this was the first time I'd seen evidence in support of the rumors that it went something deeper than friendship. Of course, if the rumors were true, I expected Lena to refuse to go in some grand romantic gesture. So it was a pleasant surprise when, after thinking it over for a minute, she reluctantly agreed to make the trip. This was good, as long as she could keep hold of that practical streak, finding employment for her in America shouldn't be too difficult.

The rest of the evening was taken up planning. For me and Lena, it was planning our escape. For Murdoch, it was planning retaliation against those who had dared violate his territory so blatantly. I wished him luck, but did not offer any help. This was one mess I wanted no part of.

March 3, 1926, Londinium

"Why you do it, Oliver?"

The cold words pulled the 16-year-old lad up short on the deserted street, and he turned to face the alley the voice came from. A hand-rolled cigarette gleamed in the dark night, briefly illuminating the face of the gang boss of Solly Street. That they were both standing miles outside of his territory did nothing to reduce the aura of menace flowing off the man.

"Mr. Murdoch! Do what, s-sir?"

"You think me a fool, boy? You was seen talking to outsiders. Not my usual business, but them bringing shootings to my street, that make it my business."

"I-I swear sir, this had nothing to do with you or yours. Just, they was offering good money for info on who was doing 'em big robberies, and she wasn't part of your gang so I figured it was all right..."

"And that's it. Just the money? It didn't have nothing to do with how she took over your own crew? Showed herself ten times the man you are?"

The rage stiffening the youth's frame was obvious even in the dark, but Murdoch seemed willing to wait for a verbal response. Eventually, Oliver spoke, anger beading his words, "What would you've done? I took her in when she had nothin', and she took my crew away. I took care of 'em all, but then that little cunt comes along and suddenly they think they can take on all of London! She was gonna get 'em killed, someone had to stop her!"

"Yeah? And instead of taking care of it yourself, you decide to bring in outsiders. On. My. Goddam. Turf."

The ice coating Murdoch's words chilled Oliver's bravado. "Swear to God, Mr. Murdoch, sir, I kept telling 'em trying to grab her on Solly was a bad idea! Warned 'em about you, but they didn't wanna listen! I swear no one else was supposed to get hurt - "

"And yet, civvies got caught up in it, a law man is dead, and I got the fuzz growin' outta my ears." The words cut off Oliver's babbling, and the lad grew even stiffer as he saw Murdoch's hand resting on the knife hilt poking out of his belt.

The tableau stayed frozen for a long moment, then Murdoch's posture relaxed a fraction. "Know what the stupidest part of all this is, boy?" With no answer forthcoming, Murdoch continued, "Tina, she was planning to quit this country all on her own. If you'd just kept your head down for a week, you might had your crew back just like that."

"W-what?!"

"'S true. She was planning on leaving. Still is, in fact. But that don't matter now, do it. You gone and annoyed me. And some other folk more than a mite annoyed, they downright pissed."

"Who a-URK!"

Murdoch watched calmly as Oliver's eyes bulged, pain paralyzing his vocal chords. The boy's agony was brief, his eyes rolling back as he collapsed to the ground, revealing a girl standing behind him with a bloody knife.

Silence reigned for a long moment as the girl reached down to wipe the knife on the boy's clothes before putting it away, then she spoke. "Tina... she really was planning to leave all along, wasn't she?"

"Yeah. Guess she didn't tell you? She always was the cagey sort."

A soft snort came from her. "Three can keep a secret if two are dead. She taught me that. Also taught me how to find the kidneys with a blade." Suddenly, the girl lashed out with a vicious kick into the unresponsive form at her feet. "You stupid Ollie! Couldn't you kept your head down for a little bit! Now you're dead, and for what?" Huffing, the girl bent down and started rifling through the corpse's pockets.

Murdoch walked over to stand by her. "You didn't need kill him. Not much more he could done to hurt us, and if he ever showed his face I'd take care of it."

"You don't let someone sell out one of your own and then let them walk away. You taught me that." The girl stood back up, looking through a billfold, then tossed it to Murdoch with a snort. "Idiot didn't even get paid that well for being a sellout."

Murdoch tossed the money back. "Keep it, and let's git."

It was a few steps away that Murdoch spoke again, "So, Jenny, with both Tina and Lena leaving, Sal's gonna be real shorthanded. I don't suppose you in the job market...?"

March 5, 1926, Amstredam, The Empire

Elya's warnings had proven true. A couple of days after they landed, Captain Strong of Interpol had requested Viktoriya's presence at an 'interview'. That first questioning session on the Major's disappearance had been thorough but polite. Viktoriya had stuck to her story and been allowed to return to her duties with a minimum of fuss.

The next interview, two days after that, had been a lot less friendly. This time Ensign Sioux had been involved, interjecting with random accusations to rattle her while Strong looked for any opportunity to trip her up. Some of the wild theories they threw out to try and shake her had been distressingly close to the truth, but Viktoriya had learned a bit about resisting interrogation from her Major. More importantly, her extremely limited Albish meant they had to use a translator in the form of Elya, which robbed their verbal tactics of much of the impact. Eventually they released her with no result. Unfortunately, according to Elya, Interpol's current budget was large, and they gave enormous leeway to their investigators to enter any country and pursue any investigation. As long as the Empire chose to cooperate, they could keep dragging her in for as many interrogations as they wanted, even if they couldn't officially arrest her without going through the Military Police.

Today's interrogation had been the most acrimonious yet, with threats of long prison sentences making an appearance. This did not upset Viktoriya. In fact her only surprise was that it had taken over three months before anyone tried to seriously challenge her statement of what had happened in Londinium. Both she and Weiss had known they would be prime suspects, being the only members of the 203rd on site that day.

As such, she had done her best not to take anything personally, even when they said some frankly uncalled for things about the Major. However, judging by the death glare she had been getting, the Ensign had taken something very personally indeed. So, when Captain Strong stepped out for a moment, she decided to satisfy her curiosity. "Ensign Sioux, I'm curious, have I done something to offend you personally? You have been looking as if you want to challenge me to a duel at dawn."

As Elya finished translating, the Ensign's face turned red with anger, until finally she could no longer keep her peace. The ensign's furious tone was explained by the words Elya repeated to her - "Nothing much. It's just that your precious Major was the one who killed my father."

Viktoriya stared at her for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry, but do you mean directly at her hands or indirectly as a commander? I'm afraid you're going to have to be a bit more specific."

"It was at the battle of Osfjord, December 1924!"

Viktoriya knew she shouldn't tweak the obviously upset girl, but honestly, what was this Ensign thinking? It was war! Everyone was trying to kill everyone else, some would live, some would die. No, her sympathy for such an absurd accusation was decidedly limited. Which was why she put on her sweetest smile and said, "More specific, please."

"He was an aerial mage colonel!"

"More specific."

"How many aerial mage colonels did you kill at Osfjord?!"

"The Legadonian flying coats hid their rank insignia."

"He was in charge of all aerial mage forces! His name was Anson Sioux!"

"They were so disorganized we couldn't tell if anyone was in charge, and we didn't stop to ask their names either."

"Your precious Major had a sub-machine gun in her personal effects that was looted off his corpse!"

"Ah! Now I remember! Yes, he was one that actually got pretty close to Major Degurechaff. I remember afterwards I had a difficult time getting his blood out of the Major's flying jacket."

"YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!"

By that scream, magic was building in the room. Both from the girl in front of her, and from Elya in response. Viktoriya didn't activate her own combat orb though. The power emanating from the girl was strong, but completely unformed. If it started organizing into a spell, then she would start to worry. Instead she kept her tone perfectly calm as she replied, "I can assure you, I am not joking. I do remember him, and there is nothing humorous about a man so obviously suicidal. Lieutenant Roth, translate."

Her last comment seemed to pierce the girl's anger. "What do you mean, suicidal?"

"Well, the battle was over, we were withdrawing, and he decides to charge an entire mage battalion all on his own. Completely unsupported. What do you call that but suicidal? You seem to be under a misapprehension though. He didn't die at Osfjord."

"What?"

"Oh, it's true, the Major injured him badly and captured his weapon. But he survived. Showed up six months later off the coast of Francois with some Albish mages trying to ambush us. Poor Lieutenant Grantz still has the scars. That's the battle where your father died."

"Y-you're sure?"

"Absolutely. He spent most of that battle dueling the Major, then when she stabbed him again, instead of trying to retreat he detonated his orb to try and take her out." Viktoriya gave a shrug. "As I said, suicidal."

"And who's fault was it that he was driven to such extremes?" came the snarled reply.

"The Council of Ten? The Kaiser? The King of Albion? As the Major says, politicians start wars, and it's us soldiers who do the killing and dying."

"Major this! Major that! All you 203s are the same, you treat her words as some kind of holy writ!"

Viktoriya had to smile. "We are simply giving her words the respect they deserve."

Ensign Sioux glowered at her for a moment, then replied slowly, emphasizing her words. "Then write this down. We will find her! We WILL bring her to justice! She WILL pay for her crimes! For the good lord God cannot allow a sinner like her to walk free!"

"Ah, I see you are a woman of faith. In my own way, I suppose I am as well."

"Oh? You actually think God is on your side instead? On the side of murderers, killers of women and children?"

Viktoriya looked up, making sure to meet the Ensign's eyes as she put every ounce of conviction she could into her words. "Perhaps God is on our side. Perhaps he is not. Perhaps he does not even exist. It is not God I have faith in Ensign. I have faith in something much more real."

March 6, 1926, Southampton, Albion

Contrary to expectations, the next few days actually seemed to go smoothly. My new identity was that of a Pacific Islander girl named Moana Kane, with my skin darkened significantly to match someone who grew up under the sun. Naturally, a real Pacific Islander might find me off, but again, the lack of a global worldview due to lack of internet and air travel worked in my favor. While I was using my spells to cover me, I'd actually packed all the ingredients to stain my skin the appropriate shade in case Lena got curious about my methods. I'd also pulled a few subtle changes to my facial features that I thought could be done by clever use of make-up. Good thing none who knew me were actual masters of disguise.

Lena, in her guise as my nanny, had gone for a black wig to cover her normal light brown hair. Combined with her naturally dark complexion, and she could definitely sell a tropical background from a distance. The story was that my father had come to America for work, my mother had died of an unfortunate illness, and now I was going to join him. I had a fake letter from my father, and appropriate travel documents, all thanks to the efficient Duffy. Our clothes had also been changed, to the kind of stylish dress that might be seen on the daughter and employee of a successful executive.

On the day before the journey, we took an evening train to Southampton and stayed the night at a hotel. No one looked at us twice, in spite of Murdoch confirming that the police was circulating bulletins containing both our descriptions.

The most danger came when we were actually boarding the ship, with keen-eyed police populating the pier. Luckily, Jenny and some of Murdoch's most trusted subordinates ran interference, distracting those officers that were actually in a position to try and intercept us. Moving steadily, we got aboard and then hid out in our cabins until the ship departed. I know Lena was a bit upset not being able to say goodbye one last time to Murdoch and Sal, but Murdoch was also being mentioned in the police bulletins and Sal was under observation - neither could leave London.

Honestly, I was glad not to have to talk to anyone. Over the last few days Jenny had tried her best to make me feel guilty for not telling her about my plans to leave, and I'd woken up this morning feeling extremely irritable and somewhat ill.

Once the ship was safely under way, I headed for the deck in hopes that the sea breeze would improve my poor humor, Lena accompanying me dutifully. Unfortunately, the bracing air didn't seem to help matters much. My stomach was definitely hurting, was I already getting sea-sick? Then I felt a sticky warmth spreading between my legs, and I realized with horror what was happening.

"Lena", I hissed furiously, "I'm bleeding!"

"What? How do you - oh, oh dear. Well, where do you keep your things?"

"I don't have things. This is my first! Don't you have any?"

"Yes, but they're all in my size!" We both simultaneously looked at the now-distant shore where existed the nearest shops catering to such needs. "Well," she said with a deep breath. "We'll just have to make do. I'm sure there's something on board we can put to use. This ship has a pretty good infirmary."

Wonderful. This trip was to be five days long. I'd get to deal with my first transatlantic cruise and my first period at the exact same time with no preparation.

Curse you Being X!