“Take these next two days to catch up on some rest,” suggested the captain. “By my estimate, we’ll be ready to launch the Calamar at seven in the morning day after tomorrow.”
Hoshi, Ramon, and Fatemeh stood and left the captain’s cabin. As Ramon and Fatemeh reached their cabin, Fatemeh reached out and grabbed Hoshi’s arm. “What exactly is your relationship to Imagawa? I’ve heard she was your student, but I see hurt in your eyes whenever someone says her name. Is there something more?”
Hoshi put his hands behind his back. “To me, being a samurai is a matter of service. I served my shogun and the daimyo. I served the peasants who farmed the land. I thought I’d instilled these virtues in Imagawa.” He looked down and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “She fell in love with warfare and the idea that samurai must fight to the death. In a way, the Meiji restoration proved a dream come true for her. It gave her war and death.”
“Did you love her?” Fatemeh’s question was gentle yet urgent.
“I thought she died.” Hoshi shook his head. “I saw her lying as though dead, but it turns out she’s alive. I worry I betrayed her. I also wonder if she did it to deceive me.”
“Why would she do that?” Ramon narrowed his gaze.
“Perhaps she thought my presence was… cumbersome.”
“I’m sorry.” Fatemeh grabbed his arms and stared into his eyes. “Just don’t let your hurt lead you into something foolish.”
“I’m more of a warrior than that, Mrs. Morales.” He gave a curt nod and turned away. “Good night.”
Ramon and Fatemeh entered the moonlit cabin. Ramon undressed without bothering to light the lamp. “Are you angry the plan involves Hoshi challenging Imagawa?”
Cloth rustled and laces whispered. “I can’t say I like it, but neither am I angry.” He startled as she wrapped her arms around him, but enjoyed her naked flesh against his back. “All I know is that I want to know love. This honeymoon is far from over, Ramon Morales.”
* * *
As the first Japanese officer to take an airship across the Pacific, Captain Sanada expected a triumphant return to Tokyo. He thought there might be a parade or a ceremonial dinner. At least, he expected a few days off to relax and spend time with his family.
Instead, he found the city in an uproar. Aids swept Lord Katsu into meetings and the morning after his return, engineers began attaching a new assembly to each side of the Bashō’s catwalk. Horrified, Sanada saw the same structure on the Bashō’s sister ship, the Bonchō. Bombs lined the new structure.
Captain Sanada approached an engineer. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Orders from the Imperial Palace.” The man reached into his back pocket, retrieved a folded up newspaper and thrust it at the captain.
Sanada unfolded the newspaper and read about the attacks on Sapporo and Wakkanai. His knees threatened to give way and he looked around for someplace to sit. He dropped down on a chair in front of a nearby workbench. According to the article, the Lord of Home Affairs possessed intelligence suggesting rogue samurai conducted the attacks, but several navy officers reported the ship had Russian markings. Even more damning, the airship dropped gas on Wakkanai and Russian soldiers raided the city.
He looked up at the Bashō. Lord Katsu had convinced the emperor to fund the airships based on the idea they could defend Japan, but Sanada knew the Russians would never be so foolish as to invade. He expected many peaceful journeys carrying cargo to Mexico and perhaps the United States.
He folded up the newspaper and left it on the workbench, then walked out to the street. He waited for a horse drawn streetcar and climbed aboard. A few minutes later, it passed near his neighborhood. He climbed off and trudged home.
Opening the door, his young daughters’ shouts cheered him for a moment. His wife gasped. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”
“There is little for me to do until I receive orders,” said the captain. “It looks like I may have to leave again soon. I want to spend time with my family.”
“Why would you leave?” She looked down. “Not that business with the Russians?”
Sanada nodded, then gave his daughters an extra squeeze.
“Let me get you dinner.” His wife stood and retrieved another plate. She brought it to the table and the captain ate.
Soon after dinner, a knock sounded at the door. Sanada answered. A man in a navy uniform saluted, then handed the captain a sealed packet. He took it, opened it, and read. “I am to depart first thing in the morning.”
* * *
Each cabin aboard the Ballena came equipped with something Captain Cisneros called an “alarm clock.” The simple device could be adjusted to ring a bell when the clock reached a certain time. It was still dark outside when the alarm clock went off. Fatemeh rubbed her sleep-crusted eyes and silently cursed the Frenchman who gave Cisneros the idea for this infernal device. She climbed out of bed, then prodded Ramon before dressing.
Knowing they planned to trudge through scrub brush in uncertain weather, Fatemeh selected a pair of canvas pants she’d sewn for herself. Although she’d resented the implication she should learn to sew so she could attract a husband, she had to admit the skill came in handy as an adult.
Ramon and Fatemeh were ready by the time Captain Cisneros’s steward arrived with breakfast. They ate then made their way to the deck. There, crewmen attached hooks from a crane to the Calamar. Hoshi joined them on deck and put his hands behind his back as he eyed the submersible. He wore a katana at his waist.
Two crewmen approached. Fatemeh recognized Jorge Apodaca who had been an owl rider in the Battle of Denver. She shook his hand and introduced him to Ramon. Apodaca introduced his companion, Carlos Rodriguez. “The captain owes us a little shore time. After all, we’ve been minding the store while he’s been gallivanting around in airships.”
“Hey!” the captain pointed at Apodaca. “You were granted all the shore time you wanted as long as you completed your duties. Mr. Gonzalez would have granted more if you hadn’t been slacking off.”
Fatemeh smiled at the banter, pleased to have some of the owl riders reunited for this venture.
Cisneros summoned those assembled and they climbed aboard the Calamar. The undersea vessel had two seats up front for the pilot and co-pilot. The other four seats sat against the outer walls, angled slightly, so the occupant could turn their head and look outside. From their earlier tour, Fatemeh realized this was less to allow sightseeing and more because the captain could use help watching for obstacles.
Piping and control cable ductwork ran overhead. Clearly, the captain chose function over luxury when he designed the submersible. Cisneros took the pilot seat and Apodaca sat next to him in the co-pilot’s chair. Rodriquez took a seat in the back and, at the captain’s command, activated the chemical reaction steam engine. The engine began a rhythmic whosh-whosh as the water in the boiler heated.
Cisneros stood and poked his head out through the hatch. “We’re ready.”
The deck crane hoisted the Calamar off the deck, then lowered it down the side. The craft swayed from side to side until they reached the water with a lurch. As the crane cable slackened, the craft bobbed in the turbulent water beside the ship. Cisneros and Apodaca climbed out and released the hooks, then closed the door. The captain engaged the propeller and the boat tumbled away through the rough waves. Cisneros reached over and turned several valves in rapid succession and soon the little boat dropped below the surface.
Fatemeh wanted to enjoy the underwater sights, but thoughts of confronting Imagawa absorbed her. She turned and faced Ramon. His eyes were closed and at first she thought he napped. Then she noticed his lips moving. A moment later, his eyes popped open.
He looked around, as though confused. “I just spoke to Legion. Mendeleev says he can distract the samurai. We should let him know when we’re near.”
Fatemeh wondered what it would be like to have such intimate first-hand contact with her husband’s thoughts. Was Legion p
rivy to thoughts about her she didn’t even know? She tried to brush those concerns aside as she reached over and squeezed Ramon’s hand. He smiled back at her. She loved the kindness behind his smile. Ramon boarded this submersible because he cared about her and about the Japanese who he’d just met. He cared about people around the world who could be affected by Imagawa’s selfish actions.
She turned and looked out at the fish swimming beside the Calamar. She wondered if they were curious about the alien craft in their midst. If so, they gave no indication.
“I see where the Poronay River flows out into the bay,” announced Cisneros. He shook his head. “There’s a shelf there and the river bed appears shallow. I think I can get us to shore, though.”
As they progressed, the ride roughened. Fatemeh grabbed onto the seat’s armrest and wished some kind of restraint existed to hold her in. She thought she would tumble to the deck at any moment. Soon, the submarine scraped bottom and ground to a halt. “We’re on the shelf, not far from shore,” he said.
“Will you be able to get the Calamar out of here, Captain?” asked Apodaca.
“No problem. It’s low tide. We’ll get some more water under us in a few hours. At worst, I’ll lower the treads and roll to deeper water.” While making plans the day before, they decided Cisneros should remain with the Calamar. He and Ramon could communicate over long distance via Legion. This allowed them to adjust meeting times and locations as needed.
The passengers climbed the ladder. When Fatemeh reached the top, she gritted her teeth and feared they’d have to swim for shore. Then she looked at Ramon, and remembered he couldn’t swim. She climbed back down. “If you can lower the treads and roll into deeper water, can’t you lower them and roll to shore?”
“And risk the army spotting us?” Cisneros shook his head. “I’m proud of the Calamar, but there’s little she can do against an airship in the hills and I don’t want soldiers shooting at us.”
As they spoke, Rodriguez retrieved a gutta-percha parcel. Fatemeh followed him up the ladder. He disconnected a hose near the hatch and attached it to the parcel, which soon inflated and proved to be a small boat.
Those going ashore climbed aboard and rowed to the beach. Apodaca and Rodriguez consulted a map while Fatemeh took in the landscape. A small village, recently ransacked and rebuilt stood nearby.
“This is Ipokash’s village,” mused Ramon.
“Ipokash?” asked Fatemeh.
“She’s an Ainu woman, who has been translating for Mendeleev.”
“We should avoid attention,” suggested Hoshi.
A shout rose from the village. An arrow struck the ground at Hoshi’s feet.
“Too late for that,” said Fatemeh.
A man knelt near the closest hut and nocked a second arrow. Another man held a spear and strode toward them.
Chapter Thirteen
Shark Hunt
Hoshi drew his sword. Apodaca aimed a revolver.
Fatemeh stepped between and called out in Japanese. “We’re here to help.”
The older man, who held the spear, took a step forward. “Samurai have done plenty to ‘help’ us.” He spoke halting, broken Japanese as though long out of practice.
“We are not samurai.” Fatemeh cast a fleeting, guilty glance back toward Hoshi. “We seek to stop samurai who are out to hurt people.” She cringed, hoping the men understood.
The older man lowered the spear somewhat. Ramon gestured for the men around him follow suit.
“He is samurai.” The man with the spear gestured to Hoshi.
“I was samurai.” Hoshi spoke in his native Japanese. “I am now a humble farmer. I seek to stop those samurai who have turned to banditry.”
Ramon spoke one word. “Ipokash.”
The spear-wielding man took two more steps forward. “Ipokash? What do you know of Ipokash?”
Fatemeh’s brow furrowed at the familiar word. A moment later, she remembered what Ramon said before people started waving weapons around. “Was Ipokash taken from this village?” asked Fatemeh in Japanese.
The spear-wielding man looked back at his companion, then rested the spear’s haft on the ground. “Is she all right?”
Fatemeh repeated the question to Ramon, who nodded.
The older man took several wary steps forward. He wore a thick beard and a robe similar to Hoshi’s kimono but it bore a more abstract, geometrical pattern. “Ipokash is my wife,” he said. “The bandits captured her almost three weeks ago. I fear for her.”
Hoshi looked over to Ramon. “How has she been treated?” He whispered in English. “We must be as straightforward and truthful as possible.”
Ramon considered what he knew via Legion. “She’s been treated well—for a servant. A few men have wanted… to have their way with her, but Imagawa has stopped them.”
“She would,” affirmed Hoshi. He turned and spoke in Japanese.
The older man approached the group. He beckoned his companion, whose beard was little more than a light fuzz. “My name is Shinriki.” The spear-wielding man gestured over his shoulder. “This is my cousin, Resak. The airship the samurai stole flew to a lodge in the mountains. We are going to free Ipokash.”
Hoshi looked to Ramon. “Didn’t they go there two days ago?” Ramon nodded and Hoshi addressed Shinriki in Japanese. “Why did you wait? Are you sure they’re still there?”
Shinriki’s face crumpled in pain. “The Russians jailed me for asking too many questions. They just released me two days ago. When I returned, I found no one but Resak would help. They feared going to prison as I did. I wanted to leave right away but Resak persuaded me to rest and gain my strength. I am ready to fight.”
He did not answer Hoshi’s second question. The expedition would be futile if the samurai bandits left. Fatemeh reminded herself Ramon would know if they departed because Mendeleev would tell them. “We go to take the airship from the samurai. Would you lead us to their camp?”
Fatemeh approached Hoshi. “We can’t involve them. They don’t know what they’re up against.”
Hoshi shook his head. “They know better than anyone.” He pointed to the huts and the recent repairs. “The samurai took Ipokash in a raid on this village. Shinriki here must have survived through luck. It appears many men were killed in the raid.”
“What do you know of the…” Fatemeh struggled to find a word. She mimed a large object moving through the sky.
“I have seen the airship. A Russian called Mendeleev brought it here. I found a newspaper article in the samurai camp. I believe they stole the airship.” Shinriki spoke the words with a forced conviction, as though he expected not to be believed.
Hoshi turned to Fatemeh and Ramon. “These men could lead us right to the samurai. No doubt they know the mountains far better than we do.”
“They’ll get themselves killed,” hissed Fatemeh.
Ramon squeezed her shoulder. “We might get ourselves killed. Hoshi’s talking sense. If we go crashing through the mountains without knowing where the lodge is, there’s a good chance we’ll be seen and lose the element of surprise. These men are going anyway. We could use more help.”
Fatemeh sighed and looked down. “You’re right.”
Hoshi asked the question again. “Would you lead us to the samurai camp? We will help you free Ipokash.”
Resak spoke sharp words, but Shinriki held up his hand. The younger man lowered his bow and his arms trembled as he relaxed. “Resak is young and hot-headed,” explained Shinriki. “He worries about trusting you. I don’t blame him. The Russians have told us to come to them in times of trouble, but they have proven unworthy of my trust. You are, however, the first who have believed me when I say samurai took the airship. Why?”
“We were in Japan when the samurai attacked Hokkaido.” Fatemeh tripped over the words, but she thought she made herself understood.
Shinriki nodded, accepting the statement. He looked back at the gutta-percha boat on the shore. “You should hide your boat before w
e depart.” He cast a glance toward Poronaysk. “If they’re on their guard, the Russians will not appreciate strangers landing on their shores.”
Hoshi translated the words for Apodaca and Rodriguez. They holstered their revolvers and nodded to each other. “Agreed, we should hide the boat. The gutta-percha can get brittle if it’s left out,” said Apodaca. He returned to the boat, unloaded the supplies, then withdrew a plug. The boat shrank down and Apodaca folded it into a small parcel one man could carry.
The group from the Ballena gathered up the supplies, then followed Shinriki to his hut where they stashed the boat. When they emerged, several villagers stood in front of the huts. An old man asked Shinriki a question in the Ainu language. Shinriki answered and the old man looked worried for a moment, then smiled, nodded, and raised his hand in a gesture of blessing and goodwill.
Shinriki gestured for the group from the Calamar to follow him back to the river.
* * *
Captain Sanada thought the ten hour flight across the Sea of Japan was all too brief after having crossed the Pacific. The Bonchō’s presence out the starboard window reassured him. He still didn’t know what to think. Had the Russians really been stupid enough to attack Japan?
The airships arrived over Vladivostok in the afternoon. Sanada ordered airmen out to the catwalk. He scanned the city with a spyglass and found the small naval base. The Russians had acquired Vladivostok from the Chinese less than twenty years before. The seaport village’s wooden and block structures on rolling hills looked almost Japanese to him.
“We have a signal from the Bonchō,” called Sanada’s first officer. He handed a paper to the captain.
The captain eyed the recommended targets and nodded. He trusted Captain Himura’s judgement. “Move us into position and drop us to one-thousand feet.”
“Yes, sir,” said the first officer.
The dirigible drifted over the naval base. Ironclad ships anchored in the harbor. Men ran along the decks, implying alarms sounded, though the distance was too great to hear. He took the speaking tube and called to the men on the catwalk. “Drop the bombs.”
The Brazen Shark Page 16