The Brazen Shark

by David Lee Summers

  “This is Sir Elias Pennington-Smythe.”

  Fatemeh held her skirt and curtseyed while Ramon thrust out his hand. Pennington-Smythe shook it and smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet such charming newlyweds.”

  “Thank you for allowing us to use your bungalow,” said Fatemeh.

  “It’s my pleasure, young lady.” Pennington-Smythe fluttered his hand as though loaning out a house were a trivial matter. “In fact, I imagine as ship traffic increases, there will come a time when more people will make Hawaii a travel destination once they’re married. It’s such an idyllic setting. If you care to gather your things, I’ll have my coach driver take you there at once. I have some business I need to discuss with the captain.”

  The captain betrayed surprise just as Ramon and Fatemeh left for their cabin. They gathered their belongings and returned to the deck, where the Polynesian man in the tailcoat led them back to the coach. “I am Haku,” he said. “I oversee Sir Elias’s properties here on Maui.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Ramon.

  Haku loaded their baggage onto the coach, then climbed in after Ramon and Fatemeh. She looked back toward the village. “May we purchase supplies for the bungalow?”

  “Sir Elias has put his staff at your disposal. The cooks will prepare food for you as you wish. Just let me know what you would like.”

  “What would you normally prepare for visitors on their first night?” asked Fatemeh.

  Haku smiled and patted his belly. “We like to welcome visitors with a luau.”

  “That sounds perfect,” declared Ramon.

  * * *

  Shinriki was a fisherman, not a hunter, but even he had no problem following the tracks left behind by the samurai, the village horses, and the Russian soldiers. They traversed a line alongside the Poronay River’s meandering oxbows. The terrain rolled uphill and by nightfall, he reached the point where the Kamenka River flowed into the Poronay.

  Fire rings and trampled brush all indicated a campsite. Shinriki guessed the samurai paused to take stock of their loot after the raid. No bodies lay beside the trail, so Ipokash must have spent the night here. His hands trembled in outrage as he wondered if she’d been tied up, forced to work, or raped. He grabbed one of the rocks from a fire ring and hurled it off into the trees, venting his anger enough to continue the pursuit.

  The trail continued along the Kamenka River, toward the hills. Despite the clear trail, it would be difficult to follow after the sun went down. Shinriki found shelter by a tree, pulled his arms inside his woolen jacket and closed his eyes while waiting for the moonrise.

  When he awoke, the moon was already high, but still behind him in the east. He clambered to his feet and resumed tracking the soldiers and samurai. A few hours later, the sky lightened further as sunrise approached, but the terrain grew more rugged and wooded. He could only tell the horses had continued upward into the mountains. By now, following the samurai and the soldiers alone seemed ill considered. He crouched beside the trail and took a drink from his water skin to moisten his dry throat and calm his racing thoughts.

  He saw just three possibilities. The Russians caught up with the samurai and they already fought. The Russians still pursued the samurai, but both groups were so far ahead he couldn’t catch up. Finally, the Russians might have lost the trail themselves and given up. The Russians would be better trackers than him, so if they lost the samurai, he didn’t expect to succeed where they failed.

  A thrumming in the air interrupted Shinriki’s thoughts. Unable to pinpoint the sound, his heart raced. He guessed he heard horses and scanned the surroundings. Even though the thrumming grew louder, he caught no movement. He looked skyward. A great, silver craft drifted southward like a wind-blown cloud, following the mountains, on a course toward Poronaysk. The water skin slipped from his fingers. He quickly grabbed it and sealed it before too much seeped into the ground.

  He was tempted to see it as a craft of the gods, except he recognized it as the work of men. It made a veritable racket like all the Russian machines and left a fine smoke trail just like their factories. What’s more, white, blue, and red bars, the same as the Russian Imperial flag, adorned the fins at the back—a Russian ship of the air.

  Shinriki’s gaze followed the hoof prints into the trees, then moved skyward and followed the airship’s path. He climbed for another hundred yards before he heard hoof beats and shouts behind him. Russian soldiers rode along the valley floor, taking the shortest path back to Poronaysk.

  From this distance, Shinriki couldn’t tell whether they were the soldiers who pursued the samurai, but he thought they must be. He had to learn what they found. He waved and shouted, but they either ignored him or couldn’t hear. With heavy heart, Shinriki abandoned the trail and climbed down to follow the Russian soldiers. It consoled him somewhat to realize he might learn who flew the marvelous machine.

  Shinriki reached Poronaysk late in the afternoon. Sunlight glinted off the silver airship tethered to a tall tower among the army barracks behind city hall. Up close, the sheer size took his breath away. He couldn’t imagine how something bigger than the Poronaysk city hall could float, swaying like a flag in the breeze.

  He trudged into town, tired, stomach rumbling, and disheartened. He walked through the streets to find a crowd gathered before city hall. Soldiers guarded the steps. A podium sat at the top.

  Shinriki pushed through the crowd until he came face to face with a Russian soldier in a pressed black coat with buttons down the side. The soldier sneered at him.

  “I wish to speak to the mayor,” said Shinriki.

  “No one sees the mayor today.”

  “Why?”

  The soldier walked away.

  Shinriki turned to a woman standing nearby. “What is happening?”

  “They’re getting ready for a speech,” she said.

  “A speech. Who’s speaking?”

  “A scientist called Mendeleev. They tell us this is a historic day for us on Sakhalin Island.”

  “What about the mayor? Is he speaking?”

  The woman shrugged and pushed further into the crowd, whether to escape Shinriki’s questions or get closer to the speakers, he couldn’t tell.

  Frustrated, Shinriki ground his teeth, then looked around at the crowd. He had no patience for speeches, but he was here and the alternative was to admit defeat and return home empty handed. He might just as well stay and see what this Mendeleev had to say.

  * * *

  Captain Cisneros watched as Sir Elias’s coach carried Ramon and Fatemeh away, then turned to his guest. “I plan to be in Hawaii for a week, perhaps two,” said the captain. “I’m pleased you brought your coach for Ramon and Fatemeh, but I confess I’m surprised to see you so soon. I expected we’d meet in a few days.”

  Pennington-Smythe pursed his lips and gave a slight nod. “I have the agreement with me and saw no need for delay.” He patted the tailcoat’s beast pocket. “But, first, I would like a tour of your fine ship. I have heard the Ballena is quite the engineering marvel.”

  Cisneros forced a smile, then instructed Mr. Gonzalez to oversee the resupply operations. He suspected the Englishman was up to something, but knew he’d reveal his hand soon enough. He led Pennington-Smythe on a tour. He showed him the cargo bays with cranes which could lift sugar pallets into the holds. Cisneros led him down into the engine room and showed the plantation owner improvements he’d made to increase the engine’s efficiency. “We made the crossing from Ensenada to Hawaii in just four days at an average speed of twenty-one knots.” The captain folded his arms and cast a glance to the chief engineer who wore a smug grin.

  Pennington-Smythe nodded and his brow furrowed. “And your costs are lower. This makes you quite competitive. What happens if your ship is damaged en route?”

  “Although natural enemies, this whale has a squid for a helpmate.” With that, the captain led the plantation owner back to the deck. He activated the hydraulic system which lifted the submersible Ca
lamar. The captain explained how the arms could repair a ship. They climbed inside and Cisneros opened a hatch, showing off the chemical reaction steam engine.

  “It’s so small,” declared Pennington-Smythe. “It’s hard to imagine such an engine could propel a craft this size.”

  “Professor M.K. Maravilla used this same type of engine to propel ornithopters in America,” said Cisneros.

  “You mean those flapping, flying machines they’ve used to fight the Russian airships?”

  Cisneros nodded. “I’ve flown one myself.”

  “Indeed! I have heard remarkable things about your engineering prowess. It seems the stories are no exaggeration. Where do you get the fuel for the ship and the submersible?”

  “I make it myself in a laboratory in Ensenada. The raw materials are rather inexpensive, but it’s time consuming to make the fuel in the quantities I need. I have a small lab here on the ship and can make smaller quantities en route.” The captain folded his arms. Pennington-Smythe seemed interested in more than commerce. Time to get to the bottom of the merchant’s new-found interest in engineering. “Are you worried about me running out of fuel?”

  “Oh no, nothing like that.” Pennington-Smythe waved the question away. “I’m convinced you can maintain a regular shipping schedule to North America. Any doubts I had about a contract with you are firmly banished.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “I may have an additional job for you, though—one which would require your engineering expertise.”

  Although confident in his own engineering abilities, the technical know-how for many of the recent improvements came from the alien, Legion, who had gone silent almost a month ago, now. He swallowed, but pushed ahead. They were coming to the point. “Tell me more.”

  Pennington-Smythe held up his hand and glanced around to the porthole, then up at the open hatch above. “We should discuss this in greater privacy.”

  The captain’s eyes drifted around the small vessel. What did Pennington-Smythe fear? Lip readers on deck? “Shall we adjourn to my cabin?” Cisneros led the way back to the Ballena’s deck, then strode down the nearest companionway and entered his cabin at the vessel’s stern. “Would you care for anything to drink? If so, I’ll summon the steward?”

  “Not just now.” Pennington-Smythe eyed the door.

  The captain turned the key in the lock and strode to the desk. He indicated a chair opposite, then sat down. The plantation owner removed his top hat and hung it from a hook by the door, then retrieved two envelopes from his inside coat pocket. He lay the first one down on the desk. “This is our agreement. It’s already signed. Read it over at your leisure. If you agree to the terms, sign it and return it to me.”

  “If I don’t agree to the terms?”

  “We can discuss them when you return.”

  “Return? Return from where?” Cisneros leaned forward. “I planned to stay in Hawaii for the next two weeks.”

  Pennington-Smythe held up the second envelope. “This may tempt you to reconsider.” He looked around, as though checking to see if anyone unexpected had entered the room. “As you may know, England has been negotiating an alliance with Japan. This is critical to both nations’ security, with the Russian airships and all.”

  “By all indications, their American invasion failed,” said Cisneros.

  “The Russians overextended themselves.” Pennington-Smythe leaned forward. “I don’t think they’ll be so foolish next time. Those airships represent a real danger to world security.”

  Cisneros nodded. “I can see that, but how can I help?”

  Pennington-Smythe opened the second envelope. He unfolded a piece of paper, which showed a diagram of a dirigible similar to the Russian ships. A wooden exoskeleton held a single gasbag. Cables suspended a gondola beneath the exoskeleton. A large engine drove two side-mounted propellers. Based on the gondola’s scale, he estimated the ship must be much smaller than the Russian craft—a scout or a trim fighting ship. “It’s amazing,” he breathed.

  “The interior cabins are made of lightweight wood and paper, if you can believe it. It’s much lighter than those heavy Russian airships. The Japanese could use help developing effective ship-to-ship weapons and would like to lighten the steam engine. You can see it’s rather large. They also want to test the ship’s range. As it turns out, you have a port in North America which would be perfect for the test.”

  “You mean they’ve already built an airship?”

  “Two, in fact.”

  Cisneros nodded. “What’s in it for me?”

  “The gratitude of the British Empire… and a quarter million pounds sterling.”

  Cisneros ran a quick mental conversion and decided it would recoup his losses from the Mexican Revolution. He would be a rich man again. “You can keep the British Empire’s gratitude. The quarter million pounds interests me. How do we make arrangements?”

  Pennington-Smythe shook his head. “The Japanese want to consult with you, and make arrangements for a trans-oceanic flight. That way, they can ask questions, figure out parameters, that sort of rot.”

  “Makes sense. When should I go?”

  “As soon as possible. Of course, your friends Mr. and Mrs. Morales are welcome to stay until you return.”

  “How do you know you can trust me?”

  The plantation owner shrugged. “You already possess the knowledge we wish to share. You haven’t been paid yet and won’t be unless you return with a letter bearing the Japanese Imperial seal. If you attempt a forgery, you can expect all your prospects around the Pacific Rim to dry up, unless you think you can convince the Russians to join you as trading partners.”

  Without comment, Cisneros stood and walked over to the chart table. He measured the distance from Hawaii to Japan. “Six days one way, if the weather is good and we can maintain full speed. I should be able to restock and be ready to depart day after tomorrow. I’ll speak to Mr. and Mrs. Morales tomorrow. I imagine they’d be happy to stay here for two weeks, more or less.”

  “Outstanding.” Pennington-Smythe folded the airship diagram and placed it back in the envelope. “I look forward to working with you, Captain Cisneros. I think this would be an auspicious time to summon your steward for a drink.”

  * * *

  Poronaysk’s mayor took the stage. Shinriki’s Russian served well for basic communication, but he struggled to follow all the mayor’s words. He gathered the newest building in town had something to do with the airship docked on the tall tower to the north, and it would mean more jobs for Russians in the local mines and at the natural gas works.

  Shinriki wrinkled his nose. The latter building smelled of farts and made his eyes water. He had been cautioned never to strike a match nearby. Ainu were often encouraged to work in the coal mines, so they could rent a flat in town instead of living across the river in the village. The Russians promised them money and luxuries. Later, those Ainu dressed like Russians, but often looked drawn and haggard. Shinriki had no desire to become a coal miner and wondered why the Russians were so pleased at the prospect of more mining jobs.

  The next person to stand behind the podium reminded Shinriki of those Ainu who worked in the mines. He had long hair and a wild beard, but he wore a Russian suit. Unlike the Ainu who worked in the mines, his cheeks appeared ruddy and healthy. The mayor introduced him as Dmitri Mendeleev. Even from a distance, Shinriki noted a certain sadness in the man’s eyes, as though he suffered a loved one’s loss. Mendeleev spoke in a deep, sonorous voice about the future.

  Mendeleev said Russia led the world in something called “tekhnologiya.” Shinriki didn’t know what that meant, but found it interesting the Russians now led in this area. He wished Ipokash were there to translate for him. “We have built the world’s first airships.” He gestured to the great behemoth floating behind him. “We can improve overland transport. We can improve sea transport. Perhaps we can even send men to the stars.”

  Shinriki’s brow furrowed. Ages ago,
oil arose from the great ocean and formed the heavens and the land. A mist formed into the first gods. The mayor and Mendeleev spoke about drilling for oil and harvesting strange gasses. This sounded like men tampering with the fundamental firmament of the universe to challenge the gods themselves in their own domain. Shinriki couldn’t imagine such a challenge ending well for humans.

  As Mendeleev continued to speak, Shinriki’s attention wandered to the crowd. Most watched enraptured. Russian soldiers skirted the crowd’s perimeter. Shinriki recognized one as the leader of the soldiers who came through his village the day before. The Ainu fisherman pushed toward the soldier. Applause erupted. Mendeleev’s speech came to an end and the crowd began to disperse.

  Shinriki had to peer around the throngs of people returning to work and their homes to keep the soldier in sight. At last, he caught up with the man. “Sir, please. You led the expedition into the mountains following the samurai. What did you find?”

  The soldier frowned and narrowed his gaze. “Poronaysk is secure,” said the soldier. “You need not worry about raiders from the hill country.”

  “What about my wife? What about the samurai? Did you find them?” Shinriki fought to keep desperation from his voice.

  “There are no samurai since Emperor Mutsuhito restored military authority in Japan,” declared the soldier.

  “Samurai, bandits, it matters not what you call them! Yesterday, you hunted those who raided us. What did you find?”

  “We determined the bandits are long gone. You have nothing more to worry about,” declared the soldier.

  “I’m not worried about the bandits. I’m worried about my wife. I’m worried about our horses.” Shinriki’s voice turned shrill.

  The soldier snorted. “If you want more horses, go work in the mines. They will pay you enough to buy new ones.” With that, the soldier spun on his heel and walked away.

  Shinriki stood wide-eyed, his hands clenching and unclenching. He considered running after the soldier, but shook his head, realizing it would do no good. He now understood the soldiers’ orders were to assure no one disrupted this day’s festivities. He cast a glance up to the podium where the mayor and Mendeleev had been. He thought about telling them bandits remained in the woods, but despair crept over him as he realized the Russians had every reason to keep their soldiers close. Shinriki’s only hope was to return home and muster what help he could from his own village. Resak would help and perhaps others could, now that they had time to recover.