A\N: For the last few days I've been rereading 14 years' worth of Vexxarr webcomics. Absolutely worth the time :)

Chapter 16

December 15, 1927, a patch of jungle near Manizales, Colombia

It was raining. Considering it had rained four days out of five since I'd arrived in this country, this was hardly noteworthy. At least the lateness of the year meant the rain was pleasantly cool rather than warm. The forest canopy didn't stop the water so much as channel it into big fat drops that splashed down and made it impossible to listen for incoming danger. Not a pleasant state of affairs when I was armed with nothing more than a pistol, and my agent, Tony Almeida, had a shotgun. Of course, the real firepower for this expedition was provided by my refurbished Hughes M27 computation orb, but stretching its power to protect two people was definitely going to tax its capability. I'd have preferred to do this on my own, except I needed someone who spoke the language. I'd picked Tony out of the ranks of Velvet Iron specifically for his ability with Spanish and Portuguese, both of which were spoken in this country.

And why was I traipsing through this forest in search of people likely to shoot at me? Because the security issue my client had originally brought me to face had turned out to be the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

When my client had acquired his plantations, he had done so under the expectation that he could get away with paying the field laborers around ten pesos a month. Now, this might have very well been true, twenty years ago. Unfortunately for him, in that time the Colombian government had successfully implemented a program of industrialization and economic reform, creating a large number of new jobs and elevating labor costs across the entire country.

Now, when faced with a surge in labor costs, an employer has a few options. The first is to invest in automation and replace workers by machines. This was impossible given the care that needed to be taken while picking the fruit for the high-quality coffee beans these plantations produced. The second is to import cheaper labor, or outsource your production to a cheaper market. The Colombian government refused to cooperate with the former and the realities of geography prevented the latter. The last option is to pay what the market demands and pass the costs on to your customers.

In the current situation, the last option was the only practical one, yet the plantation owners in the region were united in their refusal to pay a decent wage. They had their reasons of course - the biggest reason being that the crop prices were almost always set by the multinational corporations that were their primary customers. Most of them simply couldn't afford to pay the wages demanded and still turn a profit.

Now, this particular problem didn't apply to my client. But with typical American pigheadedness, he refused to be 'cheated' by his workers when none of his neighbors were raising wages. It was almost enough to make me tear my hair out.

Luckily, a visit to the Colombian version of their revenue service gave me what I thought was a solution. I proposed a number of initiatives to my client - clinics to provide medical care to his workers, schools and vaccination programs for their children, and pumps to provide clean water. Much of this could be filed as charitable activity and he could get at least partial tax credit. He would still be out some money, but it would be a lot less than raising wages, and the workers would be placated. I even had the workers buy into it by rounding them up and putting it to a vote. Having free medical care and education for their children dangled in front of them did the trick - they voted with a comfortable majority in favor of the facilities over a wage increase.

I thought that would be the end of it and I could now focus on my other affairs. I was wrong. I should have remembered there is not a single situation in the world that communists cannot make worse. When they saw local support drying up, the local socialist parties started importing goons from other parts of the country. They set about with a will, picketing my client, sabotaging facilities, and spreading agitation among the workers.

I was in a bind. I couldn't fight what felt like a large chunk of rural Colombia. The only way to sap the strength from this movement was with reforms at the highest level. Unfortunately, the government would be no help. A group of right-wing Conservatives, the current government might be good for business but they were death on labor reform. No, the only possible solution was to somehow leverage a higher price for the product. Then hopefully the higher income would trickle down to the workers as better wages.

So for the next month, I traveled the length and breadth of Colombia. I was talking to all the plantation owners. The word of the day - unionize! Stealing a page from the socialist playbook, I approached plantation owners with one simple truth - if they all united in their refusal to sell unless they got a decent price for their product, the big multinationals would have no choice but to bargain.

Getting them organized sometimes felt like herding cats. Fortunately, I wasn't the only one to have thought of this. There were a number of influential plantation owners who had been feeling their way to the same conclusion. My campaigning for the formation of a Coffee Growers Association of Colombia gave these gentlemen the impetus they needed to get themselves organized. I even wrangled a membership for my client, under the argument that anyone who grows coffee on Colombian soil should be a member. I talked my client into it under the suggestion that there might come a time he might have excess product he needs to sell, and wouldn't it be nice if he was part of an association dedicated to getting him a good price?

That left one fly in the ointment. The communists. If the coffee growers were to present a united front to their customers, they needed to have something to bargain with. There was no point negotiating a good price for their product if communist interference meant they had no product to sell. Which, of course, led directly to me traipsing through this soggy jungle with one translator for company.

Eventually, we arrived at our destination. Discreet aerial sweeps had earlier identified an old villa as the headquarters of the local left-wing movement. In particular, a number of people had been seen heading this way recently - today was an important meeting of some sort. Naturally, we were spotted, and a couple of guards came out from under a shelter yelling and waving rifles dating back to the previous century. Tony yelled back even more loudly. I didn't bother speaking myself. Tony had already been briefed on what to say and the most likely responses, he would only turn to me if this conversation went off script.

As Tony was explaining to them that we were here to negotiate with them on behalf of the plantation owners, I was paying attention to my senses. First and most important, no sign of magic use anywhere. Excellent. Colombia's orb tech ranged from primitive to non-existent, so this was not surprising, but it paid to be sure. The armed guards themselves were few and far between. There were a few dozen people here, and only a few of them had guns of any stripe. Most were old civilian pieces. No heavy or automatic weapons at all that I could see. It was clear that this particular revolution still had a long way to go. Good, that meant there was a chance to nip this nonsense in the bud.

Eventually we were permitted to talk to the bigwigs after we surrendered our firearms. There were four men between ages twenty and fifty seated at a table in the verandah of the villa. Their oldest member offered me a seat that I took with aplomb and then faced my interlocutors. I recognized two of them from my intelligence gathering. The old man in particular. Pedro Juan Alvarez, was one of the faces of the movement. He was also, as far as these people went, a moderate. More a socialist than an outright communist. After I was seated, he was the one to address me first.

"So. We are honored. The mysterious Senora Jennifer Ecks. Where you go, change follows, or so they say. You come to Sietcolina and all of a sudden an avaricious foreigner finds charity in his heart. You go to the other landowners, and those grasping short sighted men suddenly find strength in unity. Some call you a witch. A lot of stories for a gringo who has been here for so little time. And now I suppose you come here to tell us how we will be doing things from now on?" Tony translated the speech. The man was clearly a politician - that speech was at least half for his colleagues.

I smiled as the familiar rush of facing down an enemy filled me. "As you said, I am but a foreigner. Who am I to decide for you? No, all I bring are choices. What comes after is up to you."

"And what kind of choice?"

"You are of course aware of the Coffee Growers Association that has recently formed?"

As the words translated, one of those I didn't recognize sneered. "A conspiracy to suppress the honest farm workers and keep them down in poverty and ignorance."

"On the contrary. It is the best hope you have of seeing the workers you champion actually get the wages and respect they deserve." I continued speaking before there were more interruptions. "You think the landowners are your enemy. You are wrong. The true enemy are the big corporations who come to your country to buy the fruits of your labor and refuse to pay anything but centavos on the peso. Whoever runs the farms, the landowners or you, ultimately the workers will have the same fate. Unable to feed their families because you cannot force the foreigners to pay a fair price."

"You're a foreigner," one of them pointed out.

I ignored the asinine observation and carried on with my spiel. "The Coffee Growers Association is the answer. By uniting all the farmers, they can force the opposition to the bargaining table. A better price for the crop will translate to better wages for everyone. However, this cannot happen as long as your people keep interfering with the harvest. In order to bargain with big business, the farmers need something to bargain with. Without the harvest, there is no bargaining. No bargain, no wages. For anyone."

This time it was Alvarez who spoke. "We are not stupid. We understand this. But you really expect us to believe that they will raise their wages out of the goodness of their hearts? No, this association is a fine idea, but we can do the same once the means of production are in the hands of the workers where it belongs."

I carefully didn't express my opinion of that idea. Instead I said, "Ideals are all well and good. But let us be practical. Your movement is years, perhaps decades, away from any meaningful power. In the meantime, your obstruction impoverishes everyone and helps no one. On the other hand, I can see how your group could become vital to the success of the Coffee Growers Association. So vital, they would not dare ignore you when you make demands of your own."

Ah, that got their attention. No matter how much they might prattle about the plight of the common man, what a politician fears most is to be made irrelevant. I just need to show them how they can have their own piece of the pie. Smiling, I spoke softly, "You are right in one way. Businessmen are a greedy lot and someone needs to keep them in line. I have no doubt there will be those who might seek to betray their fellows. My own client is an enlightened soul willing to work with his neighbors, but even now there exist farm owners, foreign and Colombian alike, who refuse to come together for the greater good. A force as organized and dedicated as yours would be ideal to ensure unity."

There was a lot of pondering on that. Some seemed to consider it seriously, but one fellow seemed upset. I knew him as Nicolas Costa, one of the most vocal firebrands, and anything but 'moderate'. His rebuttal was furious: "How dare you! You suggest we act as enforcers for the same oppressors we are fighting against!"

I clucked. "Don't be foolish. Am I asking you to raise a single hand against your fellow workers? Instead I ask your aid in bringing to heel those who would betray the unity of Colombia!"

There was some rapid fire Spanish as the four fell into a brief discussion. In the end, Alvarez spoke up, "I am afraid this offer, we have to decline. It goes too far against our ideals."

"I see. Then let us come to your next choice. This one is even simpler. All I ask for is a bit of time."

"Time?"

"Yes. Time for the Association to get on its feet. Time for the first negotiations with the big businesses to be finished. Once the Association has secured a much better price for its crop, you can then press your case with a much higher chance of success. After all, to fleece a sheep, it is better if it first has wool, no?"

"You make us sound like some kind of racket!"

I laughed. "All politics is a racket. I prefer not to indulge in hypocrisy."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." Alvarez was on his feet now. "I don't think there is anything more to say."

I kept seated. "Oh, but there is always the third option. And I favor this one, for it is the simplest. Do you see that banana tree over there?" I indicated a tree about fifty meters away.

On getting an affirmation, I gave them a cheerful smile. "Well, keep your eye on it for three... two... one..." Then there was a crack and bang, and the tree converted itself to flaming splinters as the familiar feel of an explosion spell washed over me. Looks like that M27 I gave Visha was working just fine.

There was a bit of shouting and gun-waving and shouts of 'bruja' which I understood was Spanish for 'witch'. I sat through it calmly enough, though poor Tony seemed a lot more nervous. Once people seemed to be calm enough to listen I spoke loudly, "Did it ever occur to any of you that I knew where to find you? That I knew all of you would be here, today?"

That shut them up quick. Speaking in a normal tone I spoke, "So, you all have three choices. You can be part of the solution, and secure for yourself a place at the bargaining table. You can stay aloof but at least act responsibly, and not actively sabotage those who are working to make things better. Or, your third option, you deal with me."

Costa had a pistol out and pointed at me. I didn't need a translation to recognize the string of threats and invective for what it was. I yawned, loudly and obviously. "If you do not get that out of my face, I may have to give another demonstration."

I thought he might actually go through with it, but Alvarez talked him down in the end. Then he turned to me. "Senora Ecks, you say you come to negotiate, yet you only make threats."

"On the contrary. I gave you choices. And I have outlined the possible consequences of each choice. That is the thing about choices, Senor Alvarez. They all have consequences. Even a man standing on a chair with his head in a noose has a choice - to take his head out of the noose, or to kick away the chair."

I stood up and stretched languidly, and Tony followed. "Well, I have said everything I came to say. Thank you for your time, gentlemen. I look forward to your answer."

Costa was back to sneering at me, if with a lot less confidence. "Do you really think you can fight all of Colombia?"

I gave him my sunniest smile. "You act as if it matters to me who wins."

Seeing the confusion on several faces, I laughed aloud. "Did I not just say, I am here on behalf of my employer?" I made sure to catch each of their eyes as I made my position clear. "Please understand, I only care about all this because I am being paid to care. If you are foolish enough to fight me - perhaps you will be lucky and only some of you will die. Perhaps unlucky, and all of you will die. It matters not to me. At the end of the day, win or lose, I will wash my hands of your blood, collect my pay, and move on to the next job."

Accompanied by Tony, I walked away from the villa. No one stopped us or shot at us. Thank goodness, it meant they are at least thinking. I was being honest in a way. It really didn't matter to me what they chose. With the Coffee Growers Association taking shape, I had on my side all the most important people in the area. With their support I could act with relative impunity. Although, I did intend to keep the casualties to a minimum. No matter my bravado, the fact remained I was an international fugitive. The last thing I needed was to get an arrest warrant in my (assumed) name in one of the few countries not actively hunting me.

In fact, now that I thought about it, I really needed to start taking steps to ingratiate myself with the Colombian government. I'd had plans to offer help in developing their aerial mages, plans I'd put aside due to this mess that was organizing the coffee growers. Now that I might be forced to go commie-hunting, I needed to garner for myself some governmental immunity.

I was still pondering my future plans as I made it back to the plantation house that served as my base of operations, when a vaguely familiar voice spoke up. "You're a hard person to find, Major."

I felt my whole body freeze in shock as I stared at Warrant Officer Emilie Ernest. I remembered her of course. The 203rd was small enough I knew every member by name, even the later transfers. She had been one of Weiss' more capable subordinates. If she hadn't been injured during Operation Revolving Door, she'd have made the eleven I took with me for Schugel's insane rocket ride. Visha was already standing by her side, hopping from foot to foot in excitement. When Visha saw me looking at her, she spoke up, "Isn't it great Major? Emilie finally made it! I bet the others aren't far behind!"

"Others?" I asked faintly.

Emilie spoke up. "Teyanen's in Cartagena. He's waiting for... well, we're expecting Koenig and Vogel soon enough. Becker said he'll join us in six months. In between, there might be others, but that's up to Becker. He's our recruiter in the Empire."

"Re... recruiter? Recruiter for what?!"

"Well, for whatever it is you're doing all the way out here."

"The Major runs a security company called Velvet Iron Protection," piped up Visha helpfully.

Emilie nodded. "I like the name. Yeah, I'm in."

"But... but... you're one of the best mages in the Empire! Do you really want to run around the jungle chasing commies for $65 a week?"

"Hard work, lot of danger, little pay. Sounds familiar. Do I get my own computation orb?"

I was just about to seize on this to deny her when Visha once more decided to be helpful. "Oh yes, it might take a bit, but the Major knows people!" She showed off her own orb like a woman bragging about her new jewelry. "See, it's an American model M27. It's a little better than the Standard Type 24, and uses a lot less magic, so you can keep fighting with it a lot longer!"

Then both Emilie and Visha turned shining hope-filled eyes at me, and I knew arguing with them was pointless. I guess peace really does weigh heavily on some. But god damn it, where am I going to find more combat-rated orbs? I had two more, one for Emilie and one for the young apprentice Charles Norris, but I somehow needed to find at least four others. While, at the same time, trying not to get on the bad side of the Colombian government. Damn it all, how did it come to this?

December 17, 1927, New York, Unified States

"So, Hughes knows nothing?" asked Captain Robert Strong.

"Or so he claims," replied Elya. "According to him, by the time he met Jennifer Ecks she'd already been a tester for the M27 development team for months. He did, however, laugh at the idea that she really was Tanya von Degurechaff. Then said it would make a great movie and went off to work on a script."

"We also talked to some of the mages who helped with the movie. According to them, the only time they detected any illusion magic was when she took the appearance of Tanya von Degurechaff. Nothing while in the guise of Ecks." This was said by Mary Sioux in a morose tone.

"Yes, that does knock our working theory on the head rather nicely, doesn't it? You'd think it would be the other way round," Elya pointed out.

Strong blinked twice. "That... so is Ecks Degurechaff or isn't she?"

"Honestly, at this point we might as well flip a coin," replied Elya.

"It can't all be a coincidence! I refuse to believe it! The timeline fits, and they're just too damn similar!" seethed Mary.

"Well, at least we're going to get a bit more manpower," said Strong. "Interpol head office finally responded to our findings. We're getting another four agents as backup. For what good it'll do."

"You'll probably need them, since I won't be around," said Elya as she stood up.

Strong glanced at her. "So it's confirmed? You're being recalled to Berun?"

"Afraid so, Captain. They really want to know all about this orb research center that Degurechaff might have been working in. Speaking of which, can I at least assure them Hughes Magic isn't working on quad-core orbs?"

"The spokesman for Hughes Magic categorically denied researching quad-core orbs."

"And do we have an answer that doesn't involve just taking their word for it?"

"Afraid not. Any request to investigate Hughes Magic is getting shut down hard. The Army is very happy with their new M27 and they don't want anything ruffling the golden goose."

"My bosses in Berun will be just thrilled to hear that."

"Don't I know it. Good luck, Lieutenant."

It was a few minutes after Elya left that Mary spoke up. "We're going to get stonewalled, aren't we? If some part of the American government really was involved in hiding Degurechaff, no way they're going to let it come out."

"We don't know that, Ensign. Anything's still possible."

"But nothing will actually happen unless we make it happen!"

"You have a suggestion, Ensign?"

"Yes. Velvet Iron Protection. It all comes down to them. Whatever organization is behind Degurechaff, I'm sure they're deeply involved with them as well. We need to get inside information."

"The police do have some insiders there."

"Sure, but they're all low-rankers with little responsibility. And," the ensign sat forward intently, "None of them are mages."

"What are you suggesting, Ensign."

"Simple. No one knows me over at Velvet Iron. The only one who might recognize me is Barrow, and I doubt he'd even remember me after so many months. Even if he does, I'll come up with something to cover for it. I'll present myself as someone who tested as a mage but doesn't want to join the army proper. Velvet Iron can't have too many combat-rated mages, I guarantee if there's anything important they're working on, they'll try to bring me in sooner or later."

Strong stared at her. "Ensign, do you realize just how insanely risky that is? You'll have to go in under a false identity, and there's no way you can take a combat orb with you. If you get found out, you'll be completely cut off from support."

"The only one who's a match for me there is Degurechaff herself. Barrow has some training but not to my level, and any others they have will be the same. I can do this - no, Captain, I have to do this. It's the only way we're ever going to start unraveling this mess!"

"And what happens if you come face to face with Degurechaff herself? Or Ecks, for that matter?"

"What do you think? I'm going to bide my time and get in touch with you so you can call in a battalion of mages to come down on her like the wrath of God! What, do you really think I'm going to try and arrest her all on my own?"

"Sometimes I wonder. I can't believe I'm even thinking this. All right Ensign, if we're doing this, we're doing it right. First of all..."

January 10, 1928, Bogota, Colombia

There was something satisfying about watching Visha swoop through the air as she pushed herself to the limit. It was a testament to how far she'd come since they days of the green young corporal. Hard to believe it's been less than five years. Of course, she was performing nowhere near the level she displayed in the 203rd, but that was entirely the fault of the orb. The one she was using was the worst of the four I'd managed to acquire, and it showed.

Not that General Estevan or Colonel Sanchez seemed to realize it. Estevan was Colombia's version of an Air Marshall, and Sanchez was the head of their aerial mages (such as they were), and the two of them were gazing at Visha as if she were an angel bringing forth a divine revelation. Which was only fair. Given the absolutely shoddy quality of Colombia's computation orbs, even this underperforming piece was well ahead of what they had.

When Visha landed, Estevan did his best to look stoic, but his attempt at dignity was completely undercut as Sanchez rushed over to congratulate Visha and he literally gushed over how amazing she looked up there and how she was completely deserving of her sterling reputation and how it was an honor to even share the same air as her...

His energetic enthusiasm was explained by the fact that the good Colonel was only in his twenties, a testament to the youth of Colombia's mage program. He was also apparently an avid student of the air battles in the Great Europan War (as it was now being called) and had actually recognized Visha on sight. And while his hero-worship was amusing, I found my smile growing brittle as his compliments kept straying away from the professional and into personal territory.

Of course, Visha's presence was doing what it was supposed to. A completely unknown firm like Stillwater Security needed some kind of star power to give them some credibility. Yes, I'd come up with a new company name for this venture, along with a new identity for myself, brown-haired brown-eyed Sarah Witherspoon of Albion. The reason was simple - Velvet Iron was on record as being involved with Hughes Magic Works. If word got out we were also involving ourselves with Colombia's mage forces? An investigation for espionage and treason would be all but inevitable. To further cover matters, I'd already sent word to Lena to remove Visha from Velvet Iron's books as an employee. On paper, there could be no direct connection between the two.

As Sanchez monopolized Visha, General Estevan turned to me, speaking in heavily accented Albish. "A most impressive performance, Miss Weatherspoon. I can see why you think so highly of your prototype."

"Impressive enough to be worth the asking price?"

"Two hundred and fifty thousand pesos isn't a problem. Even giving permission for your employees to bear arms can be tolerable as long as their number is kept low. But the license..."

"Is non-negotiable. But I can wait to receive it while we get the new orb in production. Speaking of which, you'll need help with that too."

"Oh?"

"I had look at the Colonel's orb. Its clear part of your problem is in the quality of precision engineering. Fortunately I know people. Getting some quality consultants and appropriate tools shouldn't be too difficult. Of course, acquiring some of these items will be much easier with the license."

"All right, all right. You've convinced me, I'll arrange it. You'll get your arms dealer's license."

"With priority and exclusive rights on the computation orbs?"

"As you say. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal." I had to fight to keep my smile demure. While the money was nice, especially for a 'prototype' for which I'd only paid a few hundred dollars, the real value was in the license. It would give me permission to purchase weapons from the Colombian government and export them to anywhere in the world - and even more importantly it would allow me to approach any foreign government and make arms purchases as long as they were theoretically for sale in Colombia. With this, I'd have no trouble buying combat orbs from the Colombian government, or weapons from anywhere else. At least I'd be able to keep those battle maniacs from the 203rd happy.

Speaking of whom, Vogel had shown up in the past month as well, with the promise that Koenig wasn't far behind. And Teyanen had sent word that another of Neumann's company, Corporal Walther, had been recruited by Becker and was on his way. I was not entirely unhappy to see them. The communists had been acting squirrelly. It seems my ultimatum had the effect of fracturing their leadership. Some wanted to seek an accommodation with the plantation owners while others wanted to double down and start the revolution early. While they were currently paralyzed by indecision, I figured it was only a matter of time before some fringe element went off the rails. I'd need my veterans armed and ready when that happened.

While I had been negotiating with the General, we'd been rejoined by the other two. Visha was looking a little flustered - while she'd had her share of admirers, it was clear she wasn't used to her admirer being both so senior and so effusive. Alas, she'd have to get used to it. Once we got the orb production underway, Visha would be acting as training consult to the Colombian Air Force. The final objective was to have three companies of quality aerial mages equipped with the new orbs, up from the single company they had now. Of course, this would involve her spending a lot of time with the Colonel. The thought was definitely irritating me for some reason, so when the Colonel tried to invite her to dinner I declined quite brusquely on her behalf. Thankfully, Visha was too good-natured to take issue with this, even though I saw her shyly glancing at me, clearly curious about my behavior. I was honestly a bit surprised myself. Over-enthusiasm aside, Sanchez was reasonably good looking, single, well-connected, with excellent prospects. Shouldn't I be happy for my friend that she's caught the attention of such a prize catch?

I pondered this quite a bit as we made our way to our hotel room. Eventually I realized why I was being so defensive of her. It was because if Visha did become romantically involved she would probably end up quitting my employment. That was not something I was willing to take lying down. Our years of separation had only emphasized how she was the best adjutant someone could have. While I accepted Visha was a full-grown adult with free will, that just meant I was allowed to use every human resources trick I knew to keep her in my employ.

I couldn't slack off on this either. Sanchez was just the first of many. I needed to be proactive. The best way to retain an in-demand employee was to make them feel personally appreciated. I might not be able to provide her romance, but I could at least make her so happy in her job it would take enormous effort to make her quit. Come to think of it, I've never seen her celebrate her birthday. Do I even know her birthday? Unbelievable! Just starting out and I'd already failed as an employer. It seemed I was going to really have to buckle down on this. Well, no time like the present.

"Visha, have I recently mentioned just how helpless I'd be without you? Because honestly, some days you're the only reason I can get out of bed in the morning." Yes, judging by the blush, that was about right. Not too much exaggeration either, Visha's coffee had reached truly divine levels now that she had access to some of the best beans in the world.