Returning to the river, he spied Resak on the far bank. He waved and a short time later, he climbed aboard his young cousin’s boat. “Did you have any luck?” asked Resak.
Shinriki shook his head. “I saw where they followed the Kamenka River into the woods, but then I lost their trail.”
Once they reached the far bank, Shinriki thanked Resak, then trudged back to the village where the surviving men and women repaired the thatched huts.
The village elder looked up from his work and spoke the traditional Ainu greeting. “Let me touch your heart.”
“My heart is heavy,” said Shinriki. “I could not find the bandits. I would like to gather the men to search the woods for them.”
Akiki looked around, deflated. “I know the men are all willing, but they would all die if you encountered the samurai. They must not go. It’s not worth it for food and horses. Otherwise, the rest of us would have no choice but to cross the river and work in the Russian mines. It would be the end of our village.”
“It’s not just food and horses. It’s my wife.” A deep weariness settled into Shinriki’s bones. “I fear our village has already met its end.” With that, Shinriki trudged to his own dwelling, lay down on his mat and fell into a restless sleep.
* * *
Ramon sat in the bedroom feeling ridiculous.
“Are we going swimming or not?” called Fatemeh.
“Are any of Sir Elias’s people still in the house?”
“No,” said Fatemeh. “They’ve all returned to the main house until tonight.”
He crept to the door and peeked out. “This is ridiculous! You’re fully dressed. Why do I have to go out in something that looks like a pair of short long johns?”
Fatemeh sighed as she pushed the door open. She planted her hands on her hips. “You know, your suit looks much better for swimming than mine.”
Ramon looked down at himself. Even though the suit covered him from shoulders to knees, it was so tight it left little to the imagination, even decorated in broad white and blue stripes. Fatemeh’s ankles and forearms may show, but at least she wore a proper dress with exaggerated lace.
“What if someone sees me?” Growing up in the desert, the closest Ramon had ever been to water were the rivers of the Southwest. He’d fished the Rio Grande numerous times, even waded in, but he’d always been dressed in a shirt and pants with the cuffs rolled up. The only time he’d worn so little in the water was alone at bath time.
“So what if they see you? They’ll probably be wearing a suit similar to yours.”
“That doesn’t exactly help.”
Fatemeh pushed past him to the window and opened the curtain wide. “Look, we have the beach all to ourselves. It’s a beautiful day out there.”
“I don’t know how to swim.”
She shook her head. “We won’t go all the way in. We’ll just wade out a short distance.” She held out her hand.
Fatemeh’s confidence convinced Ramon he wasn’t going to win this. He’d rather look silly and be with her than spend the day cooped up in the bungalow. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “All right, let’s go.”
The two went down the hall, through the front door and out onto the beach. Ramon hopped back on the porch. “The sand’s hot!”
“Let’s run for the water. The wet sand will be cooler.”
Ramon gave a sharp nod, then followed her to the point where the waves lapped the shore. Fatemeh unbuttoned an outer, billowy garment and dropped it to the sand. The swimsuit underneath still covered more than his did, though. He breathed a sigh when his naked toes cooled off. A moment later, a wave came in and swirled around his ankles. He swiveled his arms, afraid he would fall. She reached out, took his hand, and smiled at him.
“It always feels like it’s pulling on you, drawing you in, but it’s not. Not unless you wade much deeper.”
“There’s so much of it,” whispered Ramon. “If you get drawn out, you’d never be found again.”
“Well, let’s just go show the ocean who’s in charge.” Fatemeh led Ramon further into the water. She paused when they were shin-deep, then stopped again when the water reached their waists.
A wave splashed Ramon’s chest. He blinked back surprise and spat out briny water. He turned to Fatemeh who sent more water splashing at him, then bobbed under the surface. He tried to run after her, but the drag from the water limited him to a trudging walk. When she reappeared, Ramon cupped his hands and sent a shower of water at her. She threw up her arms to protect herself and laughed.
Another wave came in and caught Ramon unaware. He toppled forward a couple steps, but remained standing. When he looked up, he stood next to Fatemeh. Her wet suit clung to her curves and Ramon found the sight intoxicating. He pulled her close and kissed her. A moment later, distant singing distracted him.
They both turned toward the sound’s source. A short distance up the beech, the white sands blended into fertile, black volcanic soil. Polynesian workers sang as they harvested the sugar cane plants some distance away. Beyond them stood the sugar mill, its tall stack billowed smoke. Fatemeh’s flesh pimpled out in goose bumps.
“It feels like one of Blake’s ‘dark satanic mills’ in this paradise, doesn’t it?”
“It is paradise.” Ramon forced himself to sound cheerful. “The mill produces sugar, not weapons. The workers sound happy.”
Fatemeh gave a wistful half-smile. “Working for Mr. Pennington-Smythe.”
“Well, he knows how to treat his guests. What about the luau last night? I’m still full.” Ramon rubbed his stomach.
Fatemeh’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t know. This may be the Kingdom of Hawaii, but it sure feels like a colony of the British Empire… at least this part of Hawaii.”
Ramon hated to see her mood turn dark. “Let’s go in and get dressed. We can go for a walk and see some more of the island before Captain Cisneros comes to dinner.”
She sighed then looked over at Ramon with a twinkle in her eye. “All right, but you know, it may take some time for me to peel you out of your wet swimsuit and who knows where that will lead?”
“I like the way you think Mrs. Morales.” With that, they ran back across the hot sand to the bungalow.
Chapter Three
Hijacked!
Fatemeh Morales meditated on her new name as she sat on the bungalow’s porch next to Ramon, holding his strong, callused hand, watching the waves roll in and out. As a young girl, her father said she shared a name with the Prophet Mohammed’s daughter and the name meant she who abstains. According to Ramon, the surname Morales meant “moral.” The moral abstainer. She wondered how well the name suited her.
As a young girl, she met a French trader who did business with her father. He resembled no one she’d ever met. He had a bare chin and wore strange clothes. He spoke with a heavy accent and he gave her a music box. When she wound up the clockworks, a little ballerina on top whirled while music played. The ballerina seemed free in her tutu with lithe, muscular legs and bare arms. She wanted to see the place which produced such wonders and see women who danced ballet to lovely music.
Her father smashed the music box and told her such dreams were improper for a young girl. She must have jumped at the memory because Ramon turned, brow furrowed. “Are you all right, corazón?” His nickname for her, which meant “heart,” expressed who she wanted to be much more than her given name. Perhaps even more than her new married name.
She smiled and nodded even as she struggled to shake off the painful memory. “I think the breeze just gave me a slight chill.”
“It smells like dinner’s almost ready,” said Ramon. “Captain Cisneros will be here soon.”
“What a wonderful present he gave us in this honeymoon.” The words sounded insincere. Hawaii was beautiful, but the real adventure of travel came from meeting new people and learning about their cultures. This bungalow seemed designed to keep her safe from real Hawaiian culture. If she stayed, she and Ramon would need to explore
and learn more about the islands and their people. She wondered what Sir Elias Pennington-Smythe would think of such an expedition.
Years ago, her father may have destroyed the music box, but he couldn’t keep her from dreaming. He probably exacerbated the situation by sending her to school. She learned poetry and housekeeping, things that would make her a good wife, but poetry also made her long to see the places poets celebrated.
Her grandmother taught her about herbs and showed her how to heal many common ailments. Her father approved because those skills would attract a good husband. She approved because people everywhere paid for a healer’s skill.
Captain Onofre Cisneros rode up the beach on horseback interrupting her thoughts. He dismounted a short distance from the bungalow and led the animal to a rail, where he tied off the reins. As he did so, he reached into his coat pocket for an apple and fed it to the horse. “Good evening, my friends,” he said.
“It is a good evening.” Ramon inhaled the sea air. “I haven’t been this relaxed in a long time.”
Fatemeh knew he told the truth, even if she didn’t share the feeling. She enjoyed swimming in the ocean and the quiet time with Ramon, but it felt strange to have others cook and clean for her, especially when those others were natives working for a foreigner.
The three went inside as a Hawaiian woman set the last plate on the table. She smiled at them and indicated they sit. “Dinner is almost ready.”
“Thanks, Lelani,” said Fatemeh.
Captain Cisneros hung his hat on a hook by the door. Ramon held the chair for Fatemeh, then seated himself as the captain sat across from them. “How are your negotiations with Sir Elias proceeding?” asked Ramon.
“Extremely well,” said the captain. “He’s impressed with the Ballena and has already signed an agreement for us to carry sugar back to North America. This could prove quite lucrative.”
“I’m guessing you’ll need it to pay for this.” Ramon gestured around at the bungalow. “We won’t ever be able to thank you enough.”
Lelani appeared a moment later with a platter containing a beef roast and potatoes. Both Ramon and the captain smiled with delight. Fatemeh fought to hide her disappointment. She enjoyed the previous night’s luau and sampling Hawaiian cuisine such as poi and lau lau. Tonight’s dinner seemed all too British.
“Don’t worry about it.” The captain stood and sliced the roast, then served portions to Ramon and Fatemeh. “Sir Elias is getting his money’s worth from me. In fact, he will owe me more money after I complete a short mission for him.”
“Oh? What sort of mission?” As Fatemeh asked the question, Lelani brought a bowl with chopped papaya, pineapple, banana, and mango. The native fruit piqued her appetite.
“He wants me to go to Japan.” Cisneros served himself a slice of beef and two potatoes. “He has… a client there who would like to consult on some engineering matters.”
Fatemeh reached out for the fruit bowl. “So when will you go?” She wondered if the captain could get them home and travel back to Japan before winter.
“I leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Ramon’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “How long will this venture take?”
The captain shrugged. “Somewhere between sixteen and twenty days. It’s a pretty simple errand. Sir Elias says you’re welcome to stay here on Hawaii for the duration.”
Fatemeh frowned. “I hoped you’d take us around to the other islands while we’re here. Maui is beautiful, but it would be difficult for us to explore on our own.”
Ramon shrugged. “I admit, it’s a little hard to imagine getting bored with you, corazón, but yeah, twenty days sitting around on the beach is a long time.” He poured a glass of wine and offered to pour some for Fatemeh. She considered for a moment. As a Bahá’í she shouldn’t drink alcohol, but she didn’t feel constrained to rules this evening. She indicated he should go ahead and pour.
“I could speak to Sir Elias. I’m sure he could arrange for a tour of the islands,” said the captain.
Fatemeh took a drink. “Would it be possible for us to go to Japan with you?”
Both Ramon and Captain Cisneros gaped at her.
The captain recovered first. “That’s at least two weeks aboard my ship. I’m proud of her, but do you really want to spend your honeymoon aboard a freighter?”
Fatemeh turned to Ramon before he could speak. “You’ve always said you want to see new places. This would be a chance to experience the Far East.”
Ramon’s eye twinkled and she could tell she’d hooked him, but he looked down at the plate. “I feel like I’ve hardly had a chance to experience Hawaii.”
“With apologies to your friend,” Fatemeh cast a sidelong glance at Captain Cisneros, “I think the Hawaii Sir Elias wants us to experience is an extension of Great Britain. Japan has no intention of being anyone’s colony. America is fighting to be a world power. Japan already is one. If you want to be a diplomat, don’t you think you should see a place that’s front and center on the world stage?”
Ramon took a drink. “If we go to Japan, will I have to wear that swimsuit?”
“Now you’re giving me second thoughts.” Fatemeh smirked, then turned to the captain. “So, what do you say? May we travel with you?”
The captain sighed. “Why not?” With a shrug, he lifted his glass. “The more the merrier.”
* * *
Shinriki’s gut churned and writhed in conflict. He feared Ipokash had been killed. If so, Akiki was correct and the village’s survival came first. He helped bury the dead and repair the huts, but it provided no relief or closure. If the samurai lingered nearby, another raid could render any effort rebuilding the village futile.
Shinriki fished without enthusiasm. The airship gently swaying over Poronaysk’s army barracks seemed less a marvel and more an evil omen. Ipokash’s loss clung to him, but unless he helped, the villagers would need to enter Poronaysk and find jobs or face extinction. Those two options seemed equivalent to Shinriki.
No troops strayed far from the city to scout the countryside. Neither did he see any sign of the bandits’ return. Of course, they had stolen a winters’ worth of food. He looked up at the clouds forming above. The next day would be a poor one for fishing.
As night fell, he found the elder Akiki by a cooking fire. Autumn winds blew, chilling the air. “I have to follow the trail again. I have to find out whether or not Ipokash is still alive.”
Akiki frowned, but scanned the surroundings. “We are a village of farmers and fisherman. Most of those who could have fought are dead. Even if you found the bandits, could you free your wife?”
Shinriki jabbed his finger at the elder. “I have to try! If I can rescue her, I will. If not, perhaps I can find evidence to spur Russian soldiers into action.” He sat back and folded his arms. “Much as I worry about Ipokash, I wonder how we will survive with all our supplies gone.”
Akiki nodded. “I sympathize about Ipokash, but I worry she may already be dead.” Shinriki stood to leave, but Akiki held up his hand. “Damaged as the village is, we’ll find a way to survive. If you must go after the bandits, please take someone with you.”
“I thought of bringing my cousin, Resak.”
Akiki looked to the ground, thoughtful. “I hate to lose him, but I agree, he’s the best choice.”
“Thank you.” Shinriki stood and bowed, then found his young cousin. Together the two made plans and packed supplies as the wind blew outside the hut.
* * *
Dmitri Mendeleev awoke in his stateroom aboard the Airship Nicholas Alexandrovich. He’d gone to bed during a wind storm and his sleep-addled mind attributed the jostling to turbulence, but the ship bounced up and down with no side-to-side shimmy. What’s more, the ship canted to the stern. He closed his eyes and listened. A faint rustling followed a door’s click and whisper. A dull thud followed.
Someone had invaded the ship.
If only the being which called itself Legion had not depar
ted, he would know the invaders’ identities. In fact, Legion could have alerted the crew well ahead of time and prevented an incursion. Then again could they afford to get so used to Legion’s help that they no longer relied on their own wits? Mendeleev shook his head to clear his thoughts of these early morning ramblings.
Mendeleev slipped out from under the covers. He slid trousers on, then found his boots. He eased toward the door, attempting to match the invaders’ stealth.
The door latch turned. Mendeleev reached behind him and activated the electric lamp as the door opened revealing a man in lacquered armor. The man threw his arm in front his face and Mendeleev kicked out, slamming the door closed and knocking the invader backwards. Heart pounding, the scientist rushed to the door, opened it, pushed past the stunned invader and ran down the hall toward the gondola’s entrance hatch.
He threw open the hatch, slung himself against the ladder and slid to the deck below. His joints complained and again he wished for Legion’s assistance. He whirled around and faced two warriors wielding swords. The shorter one stepped forward with a certain lithe grace that reminded Mendeleev of jungle cats in the emperor’s zoo.
The warrior scrutinized him from behind a face shield, then asked a question in a language Mendeleev didn’t recognize. He wasn’t sure whether the warrior directed the question to him or the other warrior, but the voice, although gruff, sounded decidedly feminine. The other warrior answered, saving Mendeleev the trouble of responding.
The woman thrust her sword at Mendeleev, then barked something at him. When the scientist didn’t reply, she called up the ladder.
Mendeleev analyzed the situation. The armor suggested these were samurai warriors. Last he had heard, though, the Japanese emperor had disbanded the samurai. Perhaps they were mercenaries attempting to capture the airship in a covert operation.
The Brazen Shark Page 4