An exposed catwalk extended behind the gondola underneath the bag, giving access to the engine system. A steam engine at the stern drove propellers hanging from the sides via an elaborate rod and gear system. Workers climbed along the exoskeletons, inspecting rigging and the gasbags.
Katsu approached the nearest airship. A stepladder led up into the control cabin. “The Russian airships are designed to carry invasion forces,” explained Katsu.
“Yours are designed for defense.” Cisneros relayed the impressions he already formed from the plans Pennington-Smythe showed him. “They’re attack ships in case Russians invade.”
“Exactly.” Katsu nodded, impressed. “However, in the long run, we see advantages to airships as a means for cargo and passenger transport. These ships are good, but we believe they can be made better. We’d like ideas about how to extend the cargo capacity and create engines which can move a larger ship with less fuel.”
“I believe I can help you with that.” Cisneros paused and rubbed his chin. “Beautiful ships. If only the lifting gas wasn’t explosive…”
“Ah, but we solved that problem,” said Katsu. “The French astronomer Jules Janssen discovered a substance he called helium. We call it the gas of the rising sun. It’s much more stable than hydrogen, so we do not fear fires or explosions, the way the Russians do.”
Cisneros ran his hand over the lightweight paper wall. “Fire would still be a concern.”
“Indeed,” said Katsu, “but no more than it would be aboard any wooden ship.”
Cisneros took a moment to admire the simple and beautiful controls. Two solid wooden wheels stood near the gondola’s bow with a compass in a capstan beside them. One wheel controlled the rudder, the other raised and lowered the elevator fins.
“Allow me to show you the passenger cabins.” Lord Katsu slid a bamboo and paper panel aside. They walked straight back along the gondola. Six cabins lined the corridor. Each had a simple mat on the floor and a chest of drawers. An almost stylized watercolor on rice paper adorned each cabin’s wall. Although Cisneros had limited experience aboard a Russian airship, this craft seemed much more comfortable. A small galley occupied the space behind the passenger cabins. Storage closets took up space underneath the ladder leading up to the exposed catwalk. The sparse design conserved weight.
Lord Katsu climbed the cargo bay ladder and opened the hatch leading to the service walkway. The large engine at the stern served to counterbalance the gondola. In addition to the transmission system, Cisneros noted pulleys which allowed workers to draw the propeller housings close to the catwalk for maintenance.
“Could you imagine this design revised to use your chemical reaction steam engines? If we enclosed the service walkway and vented oxygen into the control cabin, these could be used at quite high altitude. Such craft would be virtually invisible to people on the ground.” Katsu’s eyes gleamed with pride.
“With the chemical reaction steam engines, you could also increase your cargo capacity.” Cisneros’s stomach fluttered with excitement. “Sir Elias Pennington-Smythe said you wanted to try a trans-Pacific run soon.”
“We have flown the ships throughout Japan, but have hesitated going further because we do not desire international attention.” Katsu put his hands behind his back. “You control a friendly, discrete port for us to test our airships’ true range.”
“Won’t sending one across the Pacific leave you undefended?”
Katsu shook his head. “We’re not worried. The Russians are still preoccupied in America.”
“Very well, then,” said Cisneros. “I’d be happy to make arrangements to receive you when I return home in a couple weeks.”
“Why wait so long?” Katsu’s eyebrows came together. “We’re prepared to conduct the test right away.”
“Really?”
“You could accompany the ship and experience it firsthand.”
When Cisneros didn’t answer right away, Katsu retrieved a pair of goggles from his tailcoat’s pocket. He removed the top hat, put the goggles on, and smiled. “To show how much faith I have in the design, I’ll accompany the ship as well.”
Cisneros laughed aloud. He had to admit, it sounded like a grand adventure. “All right, I’ll do it on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“I have friends who wish to stay in Tokyo.”
“I will make arrangements.” Lord Katsu bowed, then the two men shook hands.
* * *
Lord Katsu had invested in a new hotel, which he viewed as an experiment inspired by his time serving in the first Japanese delegation to the United States. The Naval Lord convinced entrepreneurs to build the small hotel near the new Tokyo railroad line, not far from the seaport. The hotel featured the best Japanese food and the most modern amenities. He’d been pleased to offer Onofre Cisneros’s friends, Ramon and Fatemeh, a complimentary room while the captain flew to Mexico.
The accommodations pleased Ramon and Fatemeh. They occupied a two-room suite. One room included a bed, the firm mattress just a few inches from the floor. Rice paper panels obscured the light from windows which overlooked the bustling streets below. A short table stood in the other room’s center, surrounded by cushions. The hotel’s staff gave them privacy, but also helped at a moment’s notice.
On the second morning after arriving in Japan, a knock at the door startled Ramon as he buttoned his waistcoat. A strange machine which rolled on continuous track treads, similar to the Calamar, stood in the hallway. Above the treads, jutted a broad, cylindrical body, with a round head on top. Painted eyes and a serene grillwork smile leant a pleasant demeanor to the machine. Two cylindrical arms stuck out from the side. The strange automaton ticked and whirred, controlled by internal clockworks.
“Who is it, Ramon?” asked Fatemeh from the bedroom, where she finished dressing.
“Some kind of mechanical man.”
A click and a thump sounded within the automaton and it thrust out a metallic claw, grasping an envelope. Ramon took the proffered note, tore it open, and read it as Fatemeh emerged from the bedroom. She clapped in delight. “It’s like Professor Maravilla’s mechanical wolf, only it’s designed to deliver messages.”
“It’s from Captain Cisneros. He wants us to follow the automaton,” said Ramon.
Fatemeh stepped back to the bedroom for a moment and retrieved her shoes. They followed the automaton down the hall and through a gate into a hydraulic elevator. The elevator carried them up two levels, where the automaton led them out to a balcony just below the hotel’s roof.
The Imperial Palace’s grounds spread out below them. One building’s roof opened like a clam shell and an airship ascended. At first glance, it reminded Ramon of the Russian craft, but on closer inspection, it proved smaller and more elegant. By Ramon’s estimate the gondola was large enough to house several people, fuel for the large steam engine astern, and some cargo.
“It’s beautiful,” said Fatemeh.
Ramon glanced down at the automaton’s note. “It’s called the Bashō.”
“Even better.”
Ramon looked at her. “How can more airships be a good thing?” He shook his head. “It’s just a path to more warfare.”
“I have no doubt it could fight.” Fatemeh rubbed her chin. “But it’s named for a poet and they asked Captain Cisneros to accompany them to Mexico. That tells me they’re more interested in commerce than combat. The Japanese have promised to open their borders. This looks like a grand start.”
The airship cleared the hanger and continued upward. An engine chugged to life and the vessel puttered overhead, then turned eastward, toward the bay.
“It still worries me.” Ramon rubbed the back of his neck.
“Unfortunately, some people will always find it easier to justify building something for war than for peace.” She smiled. “But tell the truth—aren’t you just a little jealous of Captain Cisneros and his journey to Mexico by air?”
Ramon shook his head and pulled Fatemeh
close. “He should be jealous of me. I have you and we have a new country to explore, corazón.”
* * *
The wind increased as Dmitri Mendeleev walked below the Nicholas Alexandrovich. The airship strained at the tethers holding it to the ground. Nearby, two samurai stood watch.
“I need to speak to Imagawa,” said Mendeleev.
The samurai looked at each other, not quite understanding.
“Imagawa,” repeated Mendeleev.
At last, one samurai seemed to comprehend and spoke to the other. The second thought for a moment, then responded. The first man climbed the ladder leading into the Nicholas Alexandrovich’s gondola and disappeared. A few minutes later, he returned followed by Imagawa and Ipokash.
Mendeleev pointed to the clouds, then pointed to the straining ropes. Waves rippled across Lake Tunaycha. “This airship cannot remain exposed to the storm. It could be damaged.”
Ipokash made a halting translation and Imagawa laughed. She spoke harsh words which Ipokash translated as, “We have no hanger and you’re a fool if you think we’ll try to fly in this weather.” She blushed as though embarrassed to have called Mendeleev a fool.
“We might do better in the sky.” Mendeleev pointed upward. “We could get above the storm into calmer winds.”
He waited for Ipokash to translate and Imagawa’s answer. “She says those winds don’t blow the direction she wants to go. We wait.”
“Where the devil do you want to go, then?” Mendeleev put his hands on his hips. “I’ve been training your people for a week. Aside from the captain who is just hanging on to life, you have a cooperative airship crew. Where do you want to go?”
Imagawa didn’t wait for Ipokash to finish translating. She spoke low and dangerous. Ipokash swallowed. “That is not for prisoners to know. Question her again and she will order you beheaded along with the captain.”
Imagawa turned and shouted orders to the two guards, then spun around and returned to the gondola. Ipokash followed and soon the guards shoved Mendeleev forward.
With a sigh, Mendeleev reentered the airship. Imagawa stood near the wheel, arms folded, staring out at the developing storm. The guards escorted him up the ladder and down the corridor to his cabin. He entered and dropped into a chair.
The airship bucked and rocked in the storm. At one point, the floor dropped out below him. He grabbed the table for support and thought the ship’s nose would crash into the ground, but the ship leveled off before anything worse happened.
Someone knocked at the door. “Come in,” called Mendeleev.
Ipokash entered, carrying a plate with smoked fish and a roll—a safe food choice for a bucking and rolling ship. The bandits had captured plenty of smoked fish during the raid in which they took Ipokash prisoner. “Thank you,” said Mendeleev, “though I’m surprised to see you here. Usually one of the guards brings me food.”
Ipokash nodded. “I know, but Imagawa makes me serve her as it allows her privacy from men. When in the kitchen, I asked the guard if I could bring you dinner.” She set the plate down on the scientist’s desk.
Although grateful for nourishment, Mendeleev had little appetite with the ship twisting and turning on its tethers. A moment later, he realized Ipokash remained in the cabin. “Please be seated.” He held out his hand.
She nodded and sat in the room’s other chair. “I cannot stay long. I’ll be missed.”
“You want to tell me something?”
She nodded and looked around, as though double checking the cabin door was closed. “You asked what Imagawa intends to do. I know, but she would kill me if she knew I told you.”
Mendeleev frowned. He reached out to take Ipokash’s hand, but she pulled it away. He wasn’t sure whether he offended her or if she didn’t trust him. “I promise I won’t tell her I know her plans. If I accidentally tell her, I’ll say I overheard the guards.”
She thought for a moment, then gave a sharp nod, as though satisfied. “Imagawa intends to attack Japan.”
Mendeleev’s brow furrowed. “Japan!”
She held up her finger and shot him a panicked glance.
“Japan?” he whispered. “I guessed a Russian target so she could show the samurai’s power and have the shogunate reinstated.”
“That would not restore the shogunate,” said Ipokash. “The Meiji Emperor wishes an end to the samurai. Imagawa wants revenge. She will attack a Japanese target with a Russian airship hoping to start a war between the two countries. She hopes to see Mutsuhito’s army destroyed and a shogun rise to fill the vacuum.”
“Does she see herself as shogun?”
Ipokash considered, then shook her head. “I do not believe she is so bold.”
“Russia would destroy Japan.” Despite the bucking ship, Mendeleev cut into the smoked fish and took a bite.
“Don’t be so certain,” said Ipokash. “I have heard Imagawa say the Turks plan to invade Russia. She also says Russia is at war with a country called America.”
“Imagawa tells you these things?” Mendeleev looked up.
“I happen to be near when she discusses these things with her staff.”
Mendeleev took another bite. “Thank you for the information. I’m not sure what I can do with it, but I shall think on it.” He looked up. “Why do you translate for them?”
Ipokash frowned. “The alternative would be to die. I have a husband and friends I would like to see again. This is an evil place.”
Mendeleev didn’t agree, but he hated that someone had captured his airship and made him do their bidding. “I will do my best to assure you get home.” He lifted his chin toward the door. “You should go.”
She nodded, stood, and balanced as more turbulence rocked the ship, then she disappeared through the door.
Mendeleev chewed the roll.
“Do not despair,” came a voice from the back of the scientist’s mind. “We will relay this information to those who can help.”
“Legion?” asked Mendeleev. Legion didn’t answer, making him wonder if he’d imagined the voice.
Chapter Six
The Brazen Shark
Ramon and Fatemeh skirted the Imperial Palace on their way to the newly opened University of Tokyo. Lord Katsu encouraged them to contact a good friend who taught physics at the university, Pierre LeFebre. Ramon had been impressed with Fatemeh’s talents ever since he met her, but his respect increased with the visit to Tokyo. Less than a week in Japan, she already understood many words and could read some signs. The former sheriff thought a human language must be easy for a woman who could speak to owls.
The University of Tokyo campus was rather small—just a few white buildings topped by tile roofs. Fatemeh did her best to read the door signs. She smiled when they came to the third building. “Sciences,” she said.
They climbed the stairs and walked down the hall. Ramon’s stomach fluttered. If all went according to plan, he would soon study in halls like this. They passed an open door. Inside, a teacher stood before a blackboard speaking to the class. The students wrote on sheets of parchment. Ramon’s heart rate increased.
As a sheriff, if Ramon saw or heard something, he remembered it. Although literate, he found writing uncomfortable and wondered if professors would expect him to take notes.
He looked up. Fatemeh stood down the hall with her hands on her hips, watching him. When he noticed, she walked across the hall and went upstairs. The upper level had more doors. Ramon guessed these must be offices rather than classrooms. A short distance down the hall, Fatemeh came to a door with a sign written in characters Ramon recognized. It read, “LeFebre.”
Fatemeh knocked and a voice responded. Ramon thought he heard “Haitte kudasai.” He recognized that as “Please enter.”
They entered the office and discovered a man with papers stacked on his desk. He stared at a drawing of a blocky, mechanical device on a blackboard. Ramon thought the drawing looked similar to Captain Cisneros’s chemical reaction steam engine.
; “Êtes-vous professeur LeFebre?” asked Fatemeh. “Je suis Fatemeh Morales et ceci est mon mari Ramon.”
It pleased Ramon to understand that she had introduced them. It pleased him even more when the professor answered in English.
“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Morales. I’ve been expecting you!” He turned around and ran up to Fatemeh as though she were an old friend, embraced her and kissed one cheek and then the other. Ramon’s jealousy lasted only until the professor came over and did the same thing to him, making him uncomfortable.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Ramon, although he didn’t exactly feel it.
“Are we interrupting you?” asked Fatemeh.
The professor held up his hands. “Not at all. I’m just reading a journal article by Nikolas Otto. He has been working with a colleague’s designs, creating a small and efficient, electrical coal-gas-driven engine.” He smiled. “I understand you know the Mexican engineer, Cisneros, and have seen his chemical reaction steam engine. Perhaps this interests you, no?”
“Knowing about new engines is interesting,” said Ramon, “but I don’t think we can help you determine how they work.”
The professor toyed with a chalk stick and shrugged.
Fatemeh smiled. “What would you do with this new engine?” Ramon wasn’t certain whether the details interested her or she just wanted to put the physicist at ease.
“Captain Cisneros’s chemical reaction steam engine is quite small and weighs little. It also works for undersea or high altitude vessels. This is why Lord Katsu is so interested. The problem is that the fuel is difficult to make in quantity. This would be a problem for building numerous small vehicles for personal use.”
“Small vehicles for personal use?” Ramon imagined the sky filled with ornithopters such as the professor’s. That future at once charmed and terrified him.
“Imagine Otto-cycle tractors in place of steam tractors or horse-drawn plows. Perhaps Otto-cycle engines could be mounted in carriages so horses wouldn’t have to pull them. Imagine how clean cities could be!”
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