Disclaimer: I do not own Youjo Senki
Chapter 24
June 8, 1929, somewhere in the Congo interior
Jenny Brown smiled sweetly at the leader of the Imperial African Trading Company's guard post and giggled charmingly at the man's flattery. The guard leader, a Francois expatriate with all that nation's stereotypical gallantry towards women, waved the little convoy past with barely a glance at the back of the truck. Not that a proper search would have revealed anything except some chests full of women's clothing and camping gear. All the guns and ammunition that had been secreted in the back had already been distributed, replaced with a small tightly packed bundle of currency that could easily be claimed as 'traveling money'.
A few hours later, the convoy, consisting of a car carrying Jenny, Mary, Samantha, and a small truck supposedly carrying the rest of Jenny's luggage, arrived at a village outside the immediate influence of the Imperial African Trading Company. From the truck hopped down Mr. Grossman, secret representative of Cold Steel. Retrieving the box of money, he shook hands with all three of them, thanking them for their aid, then headed to a waiting car.
As they watched him drive away, Samantha turned on Jenny with a deep scowl. "Congratulations, you're a gun-runner. You happy now, or want to commit a few robberies or murders while you're at it?"
"Hey, don't look at me!" Jenny shrugged carelessly. "After Mary here gave that eloquent speech on how the locals are getting fucked over you'd need a heart of stone not to help. Seriously, where's your racial solidarity, Sam? No love for your African brothers and sisters?"
"I have two brothers and a sister at home and they're a bunch of noisy freeloaders, I don't need no more. And you," Samantha rounded on Mary, "Stop encouraging her!"
Mary felt her face burn. She wanted to protest she hadn't actually encouraged Jenny, but Samantha was clearly in no mood for quibbling. The fact was, when Jenny had started quizzing her about the conditions around the rubber plantations, Mary hadn't been able to resist getting on her soapbox. Particularly when a couple of weeks ago the Kaiser had ordered a blanket ban on natives owning firearms in an effort to reduce resistance, never mind that a large chunk of the native population survived on hunting and gathering.
Jenny had taken that as an excuse to get involved with Cold Steel's discreet efforts to ignore the ban and keep supplying weapons to the locals. It had taken her a while, but she had charmed and wheedled her way into finally being trusted with a major shipment deep into the territory controlled by Imperial African Trading.
Samantha rubbed her face in exasperation. "Jenny, my job is to protect you. If anything happens to you, I might as well run into the jungle and join the revolution, 'cos your mum will skin me alive before turning what's left over to Miz Ecks. Can we please not get involved any further in this shit?"
"Eh, all right. I've seen enough anyway. Where's next on our list?"
That was something Mary had noticed. Jenny and Samantha never discussed it directly, but Jenny was very much looking for someone. Every time they went somewhere, they would assiduously gather information on all the local movers and shakers, and each time they did, Jenny would have a distinct air of disappointment. Mary had considered they might be looking for Degurechaff, but that made no sense. Degurechaff was supposed to be closely involved with Velvet Iron, why would they send some child to look for her? And that was assuming Jenny wasn't Degurechaff herself.
That was perhaps the most frustrating part of the whole exercise. Mary simply couldn't bring herself to definitively say that Jenny wasn't Degurechaff in disguise. Yes, Jenny had made a very convincing show of being a non-mage. After so much time in close proximity, Mary was absolutely convinced that the girl was not under an illusion, and Jenny had not given the slightest hint of using any other kind of magic. Yes, both Jenny and Samantha spoke as if Ecks was an entirely different person. And yes, she couldn't see a known martinet like Degurechaff tolerating being treated like an unruly child the way Samantha sometimes did to Jenny.
And yet, Mary had seen Jenny sparring with Samantha. The girl was a shockingly good brawler the way Degurechaff was supposed to be. She had the close links to Velvet Iron that Degurechaff was supposed to have. And she matched Degurechaff for age and physical build. Their faces might not be alike, but right from the very beginning her Interpol team had considered the possibility that Degurechaff might have undergone cosmetic surgery to change her appearance.
On balance, Mary was leaning towards Jenny being who she said she was, and Jennifer Ecks being Degurechaff's disguise. But that only opened up the question as to what the connection between two of them was, because the few times Ecks had come up in conversation Jenny seemed to speak of her with far greater familiarity than she should have towards an employee of her adopted mother.
Mary was jolted from her musing by Samantha and Jenny finishing their discussion. "Right, so it's decided! We're headed to Kolowesi, and then to Elisabethstadt!" declared Jenny.
"All right. Provided Smith here doesn't have another rebellion she'd like us to join nearabouts there?" asked Samantha, giving Mary an annoyed look.
"I am not some kind of revolutionary," Mary mumbled. "What's at those places anyway?"
"Cold Steel recently partnered up with some company out of Rhodesia called Black Diamond, they have an office at Elisabethstadt. Since that's the most interesting thing happening, we're going to check it out. Kolowesi... lot of activity around there, and it's on the way."
"What about that new diamond mine you were interested in?" asked Mary.
"We'll stop by on the way. Doubt there'll be much to see though, they just seem to be some natives who struck it rich."
So you're not actually interested in the locals, which means whoever you're looking for isn't one. Mary had nothing more than speculation as to Jenny's final goal, but this was one confirmed clue to add to her list.
June 9, 1929, Mpulungu, Rhodesia, on the shore of Lake Tanganyika
Even without hurrying, I, Visha, and Emilie reached the southern tip of Lake Tanganyika with speed and comfort. This was not surprising, since the Albish had gone to considerable effort to develop and fortify the harbor. It was, after all, the only non-Empire port on the lake. Being an excellent staging point for threatening Imperial control of Central Africa in any future conflict, the Rhodesian government had received funding to build an excellent road to support the harbor, and construction was under way on a railroad.
For the Empire's sake, I hope they took the threat seriously. After all, the harbor hadn't even been finished when the war had started, and the scratch Albish volunteer force had to drag their boats through miles of jungle before floating them on the lake to confront the Empire's forces. Yet, they had proven victorious, and even now captured Imperial gunboats were part of the force guarding Mpulungu harbor.
None of us were really concerned about the harbor though. According to local lore, after the then Rhodesian governor had visited the place for fishing and a picnic he had been so charmed by the locale that he had agreed to fund the harbor construction right out of his discretionary funds. While none of us were interested in fishing, there was no denying the location's natural beauty, particularly since we managed to find a discreet and modest lakeside bungalow away from the bustle of the main harbor.
It was here that I was witness to a feat of logistics that impressed even me. Somehow, by the time we were settled, Visha had managed to procure swimsuits for all three of us - blue for me, black for Emilie, and white for Visha. The private pier attached to our dwelling was also swiftly repurposed as a sun deck, with chairs, blankets, umbrellas and drinks tables. Since all three of us were very fit in our own ways, we must have made quite the sight to any man lucky enough to catch a glimpse. I wasn't thinking about any potential audiences though. I had plenty to think about much closer at hand.
For starters, I was now certain of one thing. My teenage hormones had indeed fixated on Visha as the object of my lust. Emilie might be a bit older and less classically beautiful than Visha, but she was still a fine looking woman and she definitely made that black two-piece swimsuit look good. But it was Visha in her white one-piece that I had to fight myself to keep from openly staring at. It took some careful deep breathing, but I managed to put my eyes back in my head and limit myself to the occasional discreet glance at the pair of them while I lay on my chair with my coffee (fortified by just a dash of rum) and my reading material. Little was I to know that having two scantily clad beauties in close proximity was just the first and least challenge my willpower was to face during our stay.
I had just settled in for a lazy day enjoying the warmth, when Visha sprung yet another surprise on me. I cannot honestly say it was an unpleasant one, but at the time all I could think was how it signaled an end to my peaceful relaxation. I couldn't help but wonder where on earth she had even got the thing. Sitting in her hand like an armed grenade, was a bottle of suntan oil.
June 12, 1929, Elisabethstadt, Imperial Congo
The two old comrades greeted each other with much jubilation and backslapping before ordering their drinks from the bar and moving their reunion to a private room. After checking for eavesdroppers with skill that had become instinctive, their good cheer turned somber for a moment as they raised a toast. "To absent companions." It was only after the first swig of the admittedly mediocre beer that the two started on the important task of catching up.
"Well, Koenig, I have to admit, I didn't expect to see you again in a hurry. I received a letter from Weiss saying you'd quit your commission to go into private work, and some months back I heard rumors you were in South America? How on earth did you end up here?"
"Oh, that's a long tale, but right now I'm Vice President of Security for Black Diamond Inc., out of Rhodesia."
"That sounds fancy. But the Albish? Really?"
"Hey, I go where the work is. By the way, congratulations again on your promotion, First Lieutenant Grantz. You certainly earned it."
"Thank you, but I'm pretty sure they promoted me so they could have an excuse to stick the lot of us all the way out here."
"Well, if you want to go into the private sector, I know some people who are hiring. Just say the word."
"You know, I heard something about that. Heard that several members of the 203rd have disappeared from the Empire and reappeared in the oddest places. Including our most famous member."
Koenig shrugged. "Is it so surprising? We are the pioneers of the dual-core orb. That is valuable experience in which many employers are interested. Speaking of famous members though, I haven't really had a chance to talk to Weiss since leaving the Empire. How are things on the home front?"
Grantz accepted the deflection. "Weiss has been assigned a teaching position in Berun. He's married now, with a beautiful baby girl. Three guesses what he named her, and the first two don't count."
Koenig considered this, then said, "Weiss is a bold man. Isn't he afraid his daughter will try to take after her namesake?"
"I think the Captain was suffering from nostalgia," laughed Grantz. Then his expression grew more severe. "Other news, not so good. Neumann is in prison."
"What? Why?!"
"I don't have details, just what Weiss told me. But apparently Neumann got assigned to some top secret testing unit. Then something fucked up, he almost got killed. Whatever happened, it ended with him punching out someone high up. They didn't quite throw the book at him, but he won't see daylight for a couple of years. Would've been worse if not for his record."
"I see."
"Yeah..." After a somber moment, Grantz shook himself. "So, were you really in South America? Were you involved in that fracas with the Americans and Colombians?"
"Yes I was. Chalk up one more kill for me."
"Yes, well, from what I heard, Visha did it all singlehanded."
"Lies and exaggeration. She only got a third of them at best."
"And that mess with our replacements supposedly trying to capture the Major?"
"I'd already left, but I heard about that. Those idiots somehow fixed on some girl and decided she was the Major and tried to kidnap her. Luckily Becker and Royce were on hand to save her from those idiots."
"Imperials fighting Imperials. What a mess," grumbled Grantz. "You know they even hauled me in for questioning about that?"
"Yes, they must have been really desperate to assume you know anything about anything."
"Haha, very funny. What are you doing here anyway, Koenig?"
"Looking for a source of copper for Black Diamond."
"Really? Well you came to the right place. There's a glut of that stuff."
"Mmm, not the refined metal. I'm looking for a source of raw ore."
Grantz blinked. "Don't they already have some in Rhodesia?"
"Cartels. Americans, if you can believe it. We're having to import."
"I see. Well..." Grantz trailed off suddenly. After a moment of silence, he spoke, "Say, Koenig, do you really care where the ore comes from?"
"Not...really? What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking the local copper mines have been closing down because of lack of demand and all the workers being let go. For a lot of them, that's actually good, since they were being forced to work against their will. For the others though, they have nowhere to go. They've been miners since the Francois era, this is their livelihood. If you'd be willing to buy directly from them...I know some of them, they're good people..."
"Won't they be mining the copper on land that doesn't belong to them?"
"They need this Koenig..."
Koenig raised his hand. "I'm not saying no. But we'll have to disguise the source, I can't let my company be held liable. And on top of that, the ore needs to come in quantities large enough and cheap enough to be worth the effort."
"Oh..."
"And doing all that will need someone to coordinate the native workers. Arm them, supply them, keep them organized and discreet. I have sources that can provide supplies and weapons, but I can't be the one to actually talk to the natives. I have a responsibility to the company, Grantz. I can't get caught up in something like this. Who's going to be the man on the ground here to make sure everything goes off smoothly? You?"
There was a long moment of silence, then Grantz whispered, "Why not?"
"What was that?"
"I said, why not me? I'm pretty sure my platoon will back me, or at least turn a blind eye. With a flight orb and permission to fly in local airspace, I'm ideally placed to run around the hinterland making sure things stay on track."
"Grantz, are you sure? If they catch you..."
"They'll put me in a cell next to Neumann. Big deal. You don't know what it's been like out here, Koenig! Do you remember Arenne?"
"Hard to forget."
"I hated it, you know. I hated what we had to do there. I hated the Major for making us do it. But after coming here, I realized this place is even worse. At least Arenne had a purpose! We were fighting to protect the Fatherland! Here? We still beat unarmed civilians, we shoot them, we kill them, and for what? To line the pockets of a few of the Kaiser's lackeys?"
"The Major wouldn't have wanted you to throw away your career like this..."
"With all due respect, fuck the Major. That cold bitch would have burnt the world down if she got orders to do it! And she'd have dragged us along for the ride!"
"Grantz! Watch yourself!"
"Tell me I'm wrong! Look me in the eye, Koenig, and tell me I'm wrong!"
The air roiled with tension for a long moment, then Koenig sat back and said, "You might have been right once. But the Major isn't part of the army any more. No one to give her orders like that. Now, it's all her own decision."
Grantz leaned forward, his voice dropping to a barely audible murmur, "Really? What has the Major been doing then? You and the others have been with her, haven't you?"
Koenig shook his head in the negative. "Opsec", he bit out.
Grantz relaxed with a disappointed sigh. "Really? Is that all you have to say?"
"You should pay more attention to the wider world. Then you'd know it's not all doom and gloom. For instance, the fight with those American mages. We did some genuine good there, they were going to forcibly put down a bunch of workers protesting for fair wages, you know."
"The Major wasn't reported to be part of that."
"Who said she was?" Koenig bestowed a look so blank on Grantz it might as well have been a signal in its own right.
Grantz huffed. "All right, assuming that the devil grew a conscience. That just proves my point. If she's willing to fight the good fight, how can I hold myself back?"
"We had the Colombian government to hide behind, Grantz. You'll be on your own."
"Maybe not entirely on my own... Like I said, I've met some good people, and I have some of our old comrades with me. I'll make it work. And anyway, the Albish border is just a hop away."
Realizing Grantz really was adamant about this, Koenig didn't protest further. Instead, after one last check for eavesdroppers, the two friends, comrades, and now conspirators, spent the next hour laying the groundwork for grand theft resource.
It was as they were parting ways that Grantz asked, "So, I know you don't know anything about where the Major might be or what she's doing. But if you had to guess?"
Koenig smirked. "Wherever she is, I'm sure she's doing something exciting. Or dangerous. Or both."
On the same day, around the same time, Mpulungu, Rhodesia
I knew I shouldn't do it. Yes, I was about to take a very dangerous step. But as I was being forced to remember, sometimes teenagers just can't control themselves.
It had all started with that damned bottle of suntan oil (made in America). I have no idea if it actually worked to protect one from the sun, but it seemed harmless and smelled pleasant, and when applied to skin left a gleaming sheen that I quickly discovered looked dangerously attractive. So I guess it worked in at least one way, if perhaps not the way advertised.
When Visha had first handed me the bottle three days ago, I had frantically tried to think of an objection that wasn't 'please don't tempt me like this'. However, my desire to maintain a professional distance took a massive hit when Visha lay down and gave me access to her toned back and legs. And then any feeble hope of resistance crumbled when Emilie agreed it was a fine idea and lay down next to Visha, demanding I do the same for her. I had noticed Visha giving Emilie a disgruntled look which Emilie returned with a smirk, but I had been too concerned about giving away my rising libido to worry about that byplay.
In the end, I am proud to report that I got through the experience without embarrassing myself. I am confident I did an adequate job massaging the oil into their skin (which after so much time in the jungle honestly needed it), while resisting all temptation to let my hands stray. It proved easier than expected, I just had to see it as a job to be done, and my professional pride kept me from doing anything untoward.
The real challenge to my professionalism came when Visha had taken the oil and declared it my turn. At first, I thought I could get through the experience with minimum fuss. After all, I knew what it was like to be massaged by a beautiful woman, courtesy a vacation to Thailand I'd taken when in my twenties in my past life.
Alas, halfway through I realized my comparison to a Thai massage parlor was more apt than I had expected. It was nothing blatant, but Visha's massage was more daring than anything I expected. Honestly, if I'd been a man, I might have taken it as an invitation to something more.
That had been a genuinely dangerous situation. Knowing Visha, it was just her natural uninhibited nature coming out to play. Making a big deal out of it was the worst possible thing I could have done, but I had to do something. Those strong fingers were driving me to distraction, and I had to bite my lip to keep control of my reactions. I ended up falling back on the meditative exercises that I had perfected during my sojourn under the care of the Imperial Secret Police. Originally designed to resist pain and deprivation, they proved barely adequate at keeping my breathing even and my body relaxed as I did my best to enjoy my first massage in over twenty years of combined life.
I had almost breathed a sigh of relief when the massage had ended. Emilie had been a witness to the proceedings, but her only reaction had been mild amusement, probably at my obvious inexperience with Visha's style of massage. Since it was clear she had seen nothing wrong in what had happened, it seemed the experience really had been within acceptable bounds when conducted among female friends. It really was a good thing I hadn't reacted too strongly, otherwise they might have wondered why.
That was three days ago. This was today. And, as I said, I was about to do something potentially dangerous. We were once more gathered to enjoy the sun, I had once more been handed the suntan oil, and thanks to that first memorable massage I now had an excuse to be a bit daring myself... and I was enough of a teenager to take ruthless advantage of it.
I was on tenterhooks throughout, afraid of crossing some invisible line known only to women, but neither Visha nor Emilie objected, so I must have done something right. Although their faces did look a bit flushed after I was done.
"You have some natural talent in those fingers, Tanya," Emilie complimented me.
"Thank Visha, she showed me how," was my relieved response.
Strangely, Visha didn't seem all that pleased at Emilie's words. I was a bit puzzled by it, but when it was my turn to be pampered I realized why. Visha must have taken Emilie's words as a challenge to her own skill, because this time her efforts were even more patient, even more solicitous... and even more risqué. And once again, it passed without comment from Emilie.
I knew I should have deescalated. This was such a silly thing to compete over. But, well, I always did like a challenge. Even a most unexpected one.
June 28, 1929, Elisabethstadt, Imperial Congo
"So, you've been busy this past few weeks. Setting up a good deal for all your miner friends?" asked Elya.
"God, I hope so." sighed Grantz as they shared their usual table at their favorite bar. "Either way, the meeting to finalize will be next week. The miners have already got the first shipment ready."
"I hope you took my advice and insisted on people who can actually make decisions."
"I've been assured they are. One set will be coming from the west, another due east. That's all I'll say though. You shouldn't get involved in this."
"Oh, I don't know, I think it is interesting to know a real life mastermind. How much will you make out of all this?"
Grantz' only response was a repressive look. Elya raised her hands in surrender and didn't bring up the topic again. After all, she had no interest in whatever shady deal Grantz had put together in his misguided attempt to help the natives. Elya already knew Koenig had been in the city, and now she knew the timeline for when some more people who hopefully had contact with Degurechaff would be showing up, and that was enough.
June 30, 1929, Kolowesi, Imperial Congo
"We're in," declared Jenny smugly.
"Great. Another shady deal," grumbled Samantha.
"Well, we're only there as observers, Cold Steel's man will be the one to OK everything. Our job is to sit there and look pretty."
Mary studied Jenny. The girl really looked pleased. That meant this meeting was the sort of thing she'd been angling for. Which in turn meant someone likely to show up to this meeting for some kind of grey mining deal was the person Jenny was tracking. Mary was starting to wonder if Jenny's appearance and search had anything to do with Degurechaff at all, or if it was some other variety of corporate intrigue. Well, there was no point in speculating now. They'd be in Elisabethstadt in a couple of days, and then they'd see.
July 2, 1929, Elisabethstadt, Imperial Congo
I hated to admit I was running away from anything, but I was secretly pleased at the sudden request to send a decision-maker to attend a meeting with some native mining cooperative. I could have simply let the Black Diamond's CEO handle it, but I needed an excuse to call my competition with Visha to a halt.
Looking back, I could only be thankful that the naturally rainy weather meant we were only out sunning perhaps one day in three. Otherwise this little friendly competition really might have crossed the bounds of propriety. Thankfully, I had Emilie there to serve as a barometer. She stayed out of it, seemingly content to enjoy our efforts without contributing except to encourage us. Emilie was fairly straight laced in her personal life, so as long as she stayed approving and appreciative, I knew our actions were within the realm of friendship.
I had to admit, though, I never realized just how physically intimate women could be among friends. Perhaps not surprising, I never had the opportunity for much 'girl time' before this. It was a good thing I had my meditative exercises though. There was no other way I could have maintained an even keel through the entire experience. As it is, abusing that technique allowed me to get ahead in our little game, if one kept score by the number of pleased noises I was able to extract from Visha's lips.
If I had known what was awaiting me in Elisabethstadt, I wouldn't have budged a muscle from Tanganyika's shores.
When Visha and I hit town, we were back in our guise as Elsa and Anna Eckhardt. Emilie was in her African safari guise as well. As far as I knew, those identities were still above suspicion. We rented rooms at a hotel, then we set about scoping out the settlement for any sign of an ambush. In particular, I looked for any sign the local aerial mage garrison was on alert, but they seemed to be in the same state of readiness as the last time I'd passed through.
Emilie had gone ahead to stake out the meeting place, and Visha and I were taking a walk around town, when the first sign of trouble reared its head. Visha happened to make eye contact with a passing redhead, and then they both froze.
"Elya?" Visha's soft whisper was clearly audible to the woman, and she replied in an equally soft and awestruck tone, "Visha?" Then this Elya looked at me, and her eyes widened. "Is this..."
"Don't say it!" whispered Visha. "Elya, what on earth are you doing here?"
"Would you believe, looking for you?"
"How did you know I'd be here?" This was a question I was eager to hear answered as well, especially since I had finally placed the name 'Elya' as being Visha's contact in Interpol.
"I knew Koenig had been in town, and I figured there was a chance you'd show. Didn't expect to run into you in the street though." Elya glanced around. "Look Visha, you're the one I want to talk to. There's a restaurant that's pretty empty this time of day, how about we have our talk and - "
"If you want privacy I can give it," I cut her off. "But Visha doesn't leave my sight."
At Visha's confirming nod, Elya sighed and agreed. The restaurant in question was a hole in the wall that was actually within sight of the meeting place for the business deal, and I could feel myself growing paranoid about exactly how much Interpol knew about my doings. So worried was I that it actually took a moment for me to register what I was seeing.
Sitting at the only occupied table was Red Jenny, more recently Jenny Brown. One of the first new allies, and dare I say friends, I'd made as a fugitive. A girl who should, at this very moment, be safe and sound in New York under Lena's care and enjoying her summer vacation like every other teenager. She was accompanied by Samantha Young, one of my first recruits for Velvet Iron Protection, and some brown haired girl I didn't recognize, but I barely noticed them, so flabbergasted was I by Jenny's presence.
That was when things started to go wrong. With a burst of magic, Visha had cast aside her disguise, pulled up a mage shell, and had her pistol jammed into the back of Elya's neck. "What the fuck is Sioux doing here?!" came Visha's furious hiss.
I blame the repeated shocks for my poor performance, not that incompetence is ever acceptable. I'd reflexively pulled up my shell and started drawing my own pistol, but I was still looking at Visha and trying to figure things out instead of immediately securing the area. Which was why I didn't see the brown-haired girl turn into a magic-enhanced missile as she leaped twenty feet to hammer into me like a wrecking ball.
Both our mage shells cracked at the force of impact, and my gun went flying. The thrust from her flight spell slammed me into the ground with the girl on top. I immediately brought up a second skintight mage shell. But instead of expanding it to force her off me, I stopped.
This was not because of the Colt M1911 pointed at my head. I had a mage shell up, after all. I froze because I could feel the power in the explosive spell that the lunatic on top of me was channeling into her loaded round.
I could see the gleam of triumph in this Sioux girl's eyes. "Tanya von Degurechaff. You are wanted as an international fugitive. As an officer of Interpol, I hereby place you under arrest!"