Ten More Years Later
Penny glanced over the red-brick wall. There were few Western style buildings in the city, so the few whose roofs were poking out over the wall were conspicuous. A taller person might have been able to see the windows. She brushed her shoulder-length red hair over her shoulder and stalked forward along the road with as much authority as her small frame allowed. The Sol blade swinging at her hip helped. It was freezing-cold, crisp December weather that day, with a light dusting of snow on the ground.
The Celesians left in the Southern Capitol at that point were only those who couldn’t afford to get out days earlier when the Imperial Army started to advance on it. They were hustling around everywhere in a constant state of low-level panic, smashing and grabbing anything they thought might be of use. One building in ten had been already been leveled by artillery. A whistling sound from above heralded another incoming artillery shell. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. The round landed on the adjacent road with a boom and threw a black cloud of dust aloft. Bits of brick rained down on her.
She continued walking towards the gate of the compound, feeling relieved when she saw a Columbian flag flying from one of the handful of flagpoles in the courtyard. The other flagpoles were empty, but the Columbian one had some odd company: Prussia. Relations between them were, to put it lightly, rather strained.
“Makes sense.” she muttered under her breath. The two most stubborn nations were the last to evacuate. A virtue in one’s own is a vice in the other. There was no one left in the diplomatic corps of either nation to open the iron gate, so the task fell to a girl from Celes. It was an honor for someone who was probably a maid of some sort, by her gray dress and white apron. The girl bowed deeply to Penny. As the number of foreigners in the city dwindled, the bows got deeper. Penny saw a middle aged Western woman approach her. Her auburn hair was in a bun and she wore a simple white dress. A sealed document was tucked under her arm.
“Miss Walters, I’m leading a party upriver. It’s long past time we got out of here.” Penny said.
“We’ll be staying,” the woman said, “Helping wherever we can.”
Penny thought very little of the plan this troublesome group had to set up a refuge for civilians.
“This city is going to be sacked by the Imperial Army. Don’t you know what happens next? If they don’t kill you, you’ll wish they had.” Penny said. The woman drew herself up with the full force of dignity.
“Columbia and Prussia are neutral parties. I have confidence in the proper conduct of the Nipponese.” she said.
Penny pressed her lips into a line. The reports coming in from the front regarding the bestial conduct of the Imperials were so unbelievable that some, in fact, chose not to believe them. After all, weren’t the Nipponese renowned for their civility? How was it even possible that they’d become so monstrous?
“How about the others, are any of them coming?” Penny said, referring to the other Columbians and the handful of Prussians holed up in the compound. The woman shook her head.
“I spoke with the Generalissimo about your plan for a truce.” Penny said, “He pooh-poohed it. So did the Imperials.”
The woman looked down. That was the last little reed they had been clinging to.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done, Penny. I know it hasn’t been easy. Now we can only put our faith in God.” she said.
“Yes ma’am. I’ll be praying.” Penny said, and gave the woman a salute.
A few more shells landed while she was on her way to the Roman Embassy. Most of the civilians were too beaten down to even bother taking cover anymore when they heard the whistle, figuring it was already too late if their name was on it. Anyone who really valued his life in the first place would have left ages ago. Yet there were so many people left.
The Roman Embassy was also largely evacuated, but not entirely. A Celesian boy hopped up off a stool and opened the wrought-iron gate, admitting her into the courtyard. Like all Western buildings in Nanjing, it was surrounded by a high brick wall. Behind it was a splendid three-story building with a trio of classical-style columns out front. Not bothering to knock, she strode right on in through the front. In the eerie quiet of the empty building she heard the muffled sound of a distant artillery strike. A grandfather clock in the entryway was ticking away. Not feeling like raising her voice, she went from room to room until she found the one she was looking for.
Her first clue was the smell of smoke. She followed it into a small study where a Roman was puffing on a cigar. He had a tumbler of brandy and was seated in a leather wingback with his feet up on the ottoman. There was a leather camera bag resting on the Persian rug that dominated the room. When he saw her he ran a hand through his black hair and tilted the glass towards her.
“Mr. Caravella, this is no time to be drinking.” she said. He gave a huff.
“I’m just trying to forget.” he said, and rubbed his eyes, “The Imperials have lost their minds. You can’t imagine the things they’re doing to these poor people. If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t believe it.”
“Do you have pictures?” she asked. He nodded. “I’ll do everything in my power get you and them to safety.”
His gaze seemed unfocused, directed at some distant point that wasn’t in the room. After a moment he collected himself enough to raise his large frame out of the armchair and pick up his camera bag. The cigar he snuffed out in an ashtray. He then turned to the box and stuffed a few into the liner of his suit for safekeeping. The rest of the brandy went down his gullet in one go.
When they came out of the deserted embassy they saw a group of Celesian soldiers smash the glass window of a clothing store and stream into it as a whole. They began frantically rending their uniforms from their bodies. Further up she saw a nearly-naked man, one of the recently disrobed ‘defenders’ of the city, struggling with an old woman, tearing the clothing off her back. Penny gave him a solid kick to the ribs, which put him down onto the cobblestone street. He wailed in grief and, as she was walking away, began to cry out for his mother. She hadn’t noticed when the Roman had pulled out his camera or the clicking of the shutter, but he must have been doing it for a while.
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“Mr. Caravella, you’ve covered wars. Is it always this bonkers?” Penny asked.
“A lot of these soldiers are untrained farm boys. The Generalissimo said they were going to fight to the last man, then skipped town a week ago. Their officers started deserting days ago. Other than the reverse order, though, it’s a textbook rout.”
She was surprised to see a lanky Columbian in a beat-up three-piece suit come hustling up to her. He was sweating in spite of the chill winter air. Penny knew who he was, though, even if she wasn’t especially glad to see him. She gave him an annoyed look. He was doubled over and had his hands on his knees. He had purchased a load of unrefined Sol for a song and had attempted to flip it to the incoming Imperials. The Imperials told him to pound sand, probably aiming to take it as a war prize. He was the least savory character in any war story, but Penny harbored some admiration for his pluck.
“Mr. Stone.” she said coolly, “I guess you finally came to your senses.”
“Nope!” he said, and looked up at her with a beaming smile. “I’ve got coolies and carts. All ready up.”
A bunch of boys wheeled around a nearby corner with a wooden cart, loaded down with burlap sacks full of the valuable dust. The cart also had a crude Columbian flag painted on the side of it. As protective a talisman as any. Penny was not pleased, and was about to shut him down unequivocally.
“Please,” Mr. Stone said, clasping his hands together, “I’ve got a family back in the Union, I could send my son to college if I can unload this stuff. Then maybe he wouldn’t have to live like his old dad. Otherwise I’ll be ruined.”
“Fine. As long as you can keep up. Follow me.” Penny said.
As Penny and her small party approached the Southern Gate, they found it was already swarming with Imperial soldiers. They had their bright swords aloft and were slashing and stabbing at anything moving. The only ones they were sparing were girls they intended to rape. If the reports Penny had seen were accurate, they would dispose of them after they were finished. Penny took up a position at the center of the wide road and tried to keep her eyes forward.
“Everyone, just stay calm. We’re a neutral party.” she said to the two behind her, and put a hand on the hilt of her sword. Based on the reports she had heard, she expected them to be so crazed that they would set upon all of them. As she stepped forward though, they saw her uniform and split apart, like a stream around an island. Soon they were outside.
“Huh. Think they’re afraid of us?” Mr. Stone whispered to Penny. She ignored him.
A few tense minutes of threading through Imperial troops, they all emerged with their heads on their bodies. From some of the looks Penny was getting, it was a close-run thing. They followed the river upstream, along an old road, as the city burned behind them. The path was lonely, since they were the last ones out. Penny breathed a sigh of relief. By twilight the horizon to the east was aglow with the fires that must now be burning down the city. Penny thought of Miss Walters, and if she would ever see her again. There were surely limits to the protection afforded by neutrality, and even the few moments that Penny had spent testing them were nerve wracking.
“We’ll stop here to get some rest before continuing on to the Western enclave upstream.” Penny said. While Mr. Stone wrangled with his coolies, Mr. Caravella had disappeared somewhere to go to the bathroom.
In the darkness, she spotted the approach of a lone figure along the road. There had been no more refugees coming from that direction, since the Imperials controlled the other end of it. She began to feel uneasy.
“Mr. Stone,” she said, “Don’t make any sudden movements. I think the Imperials are paying us a visit.”
The shape of the figure resolved into a woman. She wore a black uniform and a pair of revolvers. Penny thought: Class A. Penny herself was a Class G, and the handful of letters that separated their grades was as wide and deep as an ocean. As the woman came up the road, the reddish glow of the burning city framed her. She was alone, and didn’t say a word as she walked right up to within a few paces of Penny. She was tall and rather pretty. Her brown eyes flitted over to Mr. Stone’s cart.
“Looters.” she said, with a shake of her head, then looked back at Penny.
“I am Lieutenant Commander Penny in service of the diplomatic envoy of the Columbian Concession in Celes. We are a neutral third party.” Penny said, motioning to Mr. Stone to keep his mouth shut.
“I am Kagami, and you,” she said, “Are here to exploit Celes, in her prostrate state.”
She was not wholly wrong, at least as far as Mr. Stone was concerned. Never the less, Penny felt a certain tweak of annoyance, since exploitation was what the Imperials were there to do. After a pause, Kagami continued.
“For the past week I’ve been reading nothing but the most high-handed and judgmental stories from your press. It’s so vexing. Have we done something wrong?” Kagami said.
“I have heard many shocking and credible reports of Imperial brutality.” Penny said, “If you’re interested.”
Kagami wasn’t. After a fashion the woman pointed a finger towards Mr. Stone’s cart.
“I first saw that flag of yours on a black day in my childhood, 20 years ago. I remember it like a picture. Each one of those stars is a piece of land, isn’t it?” Kagami said.
“A state, yes.” Penny said.
“But you know, looking at the one you painted on the cart over there, there are now many more of those stars. I have to wonder where they all came from. Did not God himself set each of those lesser lights in your little firmament? You believe that. Yet you bristle at the suggestion that the Eastern stars belong to us.” she said.
Penny remained silent.
“It’s so convenient, how you declare the game of conquest over after you’ve won. You’re all a bunch of deluded amnesiacs. That’s the Columbian character.”
“We never did anything like this.” Penny said, gesturing to the fire-red sky over the Southern Capitol.
“Who knows. How was your constellation assembled? You wrote the histories. Once this is over we’ll write ours, and from the same heavenly heights.”
“You sure have a lot of opinions. Maybe you should write a letter to the editor.”
“I’ve decided to make a more direct statement.” Kagami said.
She then drew her pistol and leveled it at Penny, pausing and giving the girl plenty of time to draw her sword in response. Mr. Stone fell back on his behind in terror. Kagami fired twice, and Penny felt as if she’d been kicked in the chest. She gritted her teeth and steadied herself, holding her sword up. Not that it would do any good. Kagami fired twice more and Penny soon lost the strength to stand. Another shot marked the end of poor Mr. Stone. When she fell to the ground she saw the glint of Mr. Caravella’s camera lens hidden among the reeds.
Kagami walked over to her and put a black boot on her shoulder, then rolled her over and looked down at her. Penny knew that the more she distracted Kagami, the more likely Mr. Caravella was to slip away. She winced and tried to gather the last of her breath. She had to say something that turned Kagami’s mind inward, rather than out to the reeds where the Roman was hiding with his camera. It would be pointless to say she was bestial or mindless, since she’d rationalized that away. It wouldn’t do to forecast retaliation, since she wasn’t afraid of that. Even the paeans to peace of Kagami’s own Emperor, of which Penny could quote a few, would fall on deaf ears. Fortunately Penny had lived in the East for years, so she knew exactly where to strike.
“You’ll lose. You’re inferior!” she said, plastering a smile on her face. Kagami drew a short sword and drove it into her heart with a flash of white teeth.