The Brazen Shark

by David Lee Summers

  “Perhaps it is not your responsibility to find her path,” suggested Hoshi. “Nevertheless, I think she could benefit from speaking to someone who sees life’s value.”

  Fatemeh didn’t want to speak to Imagawa much less see her again. Imagawa reminded her too much of her father and one-time fiancé—inflexible and obsessed with rules—death, the penalty for those who strayed from even the stupidest rules. She wondered what it would take to heal the world of Imagawa’s evil. She folded her arms. “Let me think about it.”

  “Please don’t take too long,” said Hoshi. “Captain Cisneros says we’ll be in Tokyo tomorrow. I don’t know what fate awaits Imagawa, but I fear her return to a destructive path if she’s presented no alternative.” Hoshi stood to leave. He looked at the book Fatemeh read and smiled. “You do realize Bashō was a samurai.”

  Fatemeh looked down at the haiku book next to her, then met Hoshi’s gaze. “According to the biography, Bashō gave up samurai status.”

  “Nevertheless, he trained and understood Bushido. You have spent time in Japan, but I wonder if you understand all the nuances of Japanese culture.” With that, Hoshi excused himself and left Fatemeh alone with her thoughts. She leaned forward and rubbed her face. Had she made an effort to understand samurai culture, or had she dismissed it when she discovered she didn’t approve?

  Fatemeh picked up the book and read the next haiku, then stared at it dumbfounded. She stood and looked out at the blue skies over the ocean. The light snowfall on Sakhalin Island seemed a distant memory.

  Aboard the Ballena, one cabin disturbed Fatemeh and she always quickened her pace a little when passing. It had no place on a civilian cargo vessel and Fatemeh feared Cisneros might return to piracy.

  She walked to the door marked “armory” and tried it, not surprised to find it locked. She proceeded to the deck where she found the boatswain discussing a maintenance job with his crew. She cleared her throat.

  Balderas turned around. “May I help you ma’am?”

  “I fear I locked my key in my cabin, you wouldn’t happen to have a master key I could use to retrieve it?”

  Without question, he retrieved a key ring from his pocket, took off the master key and handed it to her. “Bring it right back, please, Mrs. Morales.”

  “I will.” She smiled, took the key, and went to the armory. Once inside, she chose a derringer, checked to see if it was loaded, then concealed it in a pocket sewn into her skirt. With a sigh, she returned to deck and handed Balderas the key.

  She squared her shoulders, walked to Imagawa’s quarters, and knocked. When beckoned, she entered and found Imagawa staring out the window. Fatemeh drew the derringer. “I have been considering the last few days’ events and I realized I should not have let you live. You are not a person to compromise and the only way you win is by destroying your opponent. The only way to heal this situation is with your death.”

  Imagawa eased around to face Fatemeh, wearing an unreadable expression. “I grew up in an ordered world. People knew their place and did not deviate from their assigned paths. As a samurai, I trained with sword, pistol and fists. It made me strong so I could protect those who raised the crops to feed a country. I engaged in a campaign to restore order because I thought the alternative was Japan’s death.”

  Fatemeh shrugged. “That part is clear and I could forgive it. What I can’t forgive is killing Nanbu just because he sought a new life for himself and the men under his command. What’s more, I can’t help but wonder what happened to the Russian airship crew. Did you kill them as well?”

  Imagawa took a deep breath, then blew it out. “A samurai’s entire reason to exist is to deal death in order to protect the weak. I was a samurai for over twenty years before I had a reason to take a life—before I had a reason to exist. In my war with the imperialists, I had a purpose, no matter how terrible. It is still unclear to me what my purpose is, if it is not dealing death.” She took two steps toward Fatemeh, who lifted the pistol. “What is clear is your purpose is to heal, and if you destroy me, you destroy yourself.” Faster than Fatemeh could follow, Imagawa snatched the derringer. She opened the weapon, then met Fatemeh’s gaze. The derringer was empty.

  “If your reason to exist is to deal death,” said Fatemeh, “you would have killed me. Your purpose is to defend the weak.”

  “You dared to test me?”

  “I dared to confront you.” Fatemeh folded her hands and looked to the deck. “I once knew…” She hesitated, thinking how much personal detail to give. “I once knew men who harbored no disagreement. They killed those who defied them.” Her voice caught as she remembered her friend, strangled and thrown down a well, but she willed herself not to cry. She looked up and met Imagawa’s gaze. “When you protect the weak in a free society, many will try to defy you.”

  “Nanbu did more than defy me. He humiliated me. To return home with that dishonor would be worse than death.”

  “And the Russian airship crew?”

  Imagawa lay the derringer down and folded her hands. “They were destined to fly over their enemy, drop bombs, and slaughter those below without looking them in the eye. If not Americans, it would be Turks, or perhaps Afghans, or perhaps anyone else who chose to defy the czar.”

  Fatemeh frowned, but nodded. “You can protect the weak without killing. People can learn.”

  Imagawa studied Fatemeh for some time. “These men you mentioned who harbored no disagreement, did they learn?”

  This time Fatemeh failed to stop a tear. She shook her head. “I ran away.”

  “And they still kill.”

  Fatemeh turned and walked to the door, then stopped. “Now then, let’s go out to enjoy the snow … until I slip and fall.”

  “You know Bashō?”

  Fatemeh nodded, then turned and faced Imagawa again. “I think we each can learn something from the other.”

  “There is little time before we reach Japan.”

  Fatemeh’s mouth lifted in a wary smile. “Captain Cisneros has a delightful selection of tea aboard and wonderful hospitality. It is a beautiful day outside. Perhaps we should ask his steward to bring a pot to a table on deck and continue our conversation there.”

  “You are wise for such a young woman.”

  Fatemeh bristled at the words, but let the annoyance drift away when Imagawa’s mouth ticked up slightly.

  * * *

  Ramon rode through St. Petersburg clinging to Lord Katsu’s mechanical man, hoping Mendeleev made no mistakes programming the course. They wove in and around people, caused horses to rear and upset at least one apple cart. Ramon didn’t have time to even shout an apology as they whirled by. As the cold wind stung his face and hands, he wished steam powered the automaton rather than a battery so he could get warm.

  The mechanical man rolled through an archway past four stunned guards, and took two turns around an enormous red granite pillar before stopping. The guards ran through the archway, rifles drawn. More guards poured from the building adjoining the archway. Dizzy, Ramon climbed off the platform between the automaton’s treads and held up his hands.

  The soldiers kept their distance and eyed the mechanical man warily.

  “My name is Ramon Morales. I’m here to see Czar Alexander II at the request of Emperor Mutsuhito of Japan.”

  A man in a blue uniform and fur hat approached. He had a salt-and-pepper mustache. Elaborate gold embroidery decorated red epaulets. “I am General Mikhail Dragomirov. Did you ride all the way from Japan on your mechanical friend here?”

  Ramon laughed. “No, sir. I came aboard a Japanese airship called the Bonchō. A rather frightful vessel met us, but I feared there would be a long delay if we went through official channels, especially since I have a simple proposal.”

  “And your mechanical friend here?”

  “One of a virtual legion of wonders I’ve seen in the last year and a half.” Ramon chanced to lower his hands and walked back to the mechanical man and gave it a pat. The general lifted an eyeb
row at Ramon’s word choice.

  A thrumming overhead interrupted them. Both Ramon and Dragomirov looked skyward. The skeletal airship flew toward its mooring a short distance down the Neva River from the palace.

  Once the noise from the airship receded somewhat, Ramon continued. “Some from my delegation wish to keep this man a secret, but I think secretiveness and possessiveness are where warfare begins.”

  The guards around Ramon parted and a tall man with a heavy mustache and thick mutton chop sideburns approached. He wore a fur-trimmed coat decorated with loops of gold braid. The soldiers all stood straighter as they realized who had appeared. Ramon remembered the etiquette lessons and dropped down on one knee before Czar Alexander II.

  The emperor passed Ramon and walked around the mechanical man, looking it up and down. From time to time, he paused and leaned in for a closer look. “Is this a gift?” he asked at last.

  “No, Your Excellency,” said Ramon. “The mechanical man is not mine to give. I brought him to make a point … and to get your attention.”

  The czar turned and waved Ramon to his feet. “You have it.”

  “Your Excellency, I have come on the Japanese emperor’s behalf.”

  “You are not Japanese.” The czar wore a bemused expression as he stated the obvious.

  “I am American and well acquainted with the being called Legion.”

  The czar took a step closer to Ramon. “What is your name?”

  “Ramon Morales, Your Excellency.”

  The czar narrowed his gaze. “Come with me.”

  “May I bring my friend?” Ramon inclined his head toward the mechanical man.

  The czar gave a brief nod. Before Ramon could turn the dial to issue a command, Dragomirov approached and put up his hand. The czar remained silent as the general searched Ramon. Satisfied, the general allowed Ramon to proceed. He dialed in the command for the automaton to follow.

  They entered the Winter Palace and the czar led them to a comfortable, carpeted room. A wooden desk covered with framed photographs faced a wall decorated with paintings. The czar settled into a red velvet chair and waved his hands toward two chairs arranged for intimate conversation. “Are you the same Ramon Morales who gave Colonel Dvorkin trouble in San Francisco three months ago?”

  Ramon swallowed, realizing every word he spoke mattered. “Yes, Your Excellency. Our meeting was a reunion for the creature who calls itself Legion.”

  The czar peaked his hands under his nose and studied Ramon. “You know this voice from the stars, this Legion?”

  “Yes, Your Excellency.”

  General Drogomirov cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Your Excellency.” He eyed Ramon. “What do you mean by ‘reunion’?”

  “Legion is a swarm of tiny automata.” He glanced back at the mechanical man. “I suppose you could say he’s a little like our friend, except there are thousands of him and Legion thinks for himself.” Ramon sensed the number was small, but plunged on anyway. “One swarm was with you in Russia. The other remained in America.” Ramon chose not to emphasize the war’s role in causing Legion’s separation.

  The czar leaned forward. “Legion has been … quiet since you met with Dvorkin. Can you explain this?”

  Ramon took a deep breath and thought how best to explain what he knew. “As you say, Your Excellency, Legion is from the stars. He saw the great strides Russia made when you freed the serfs. He saw Russia’s might. Legion wanted to share everything great and wonderful about the Russian Empire with the United States of America, which you no doubt know has undergone a painful reconstruction.”

  The czar nodded and spun his finger in the air, indicating Ramon should pick up the pace.

  “After the Battle of Denver, Legion separated into two swarms, Your Excellency. The swarm in Russia continued with the original mission. The swarm in America considered more peaceful ways to expand humanity’s knowledge. When I made Colonel Dvorkin’s acquaintance, the two swarms met.” Despite the chill ride through St. Petersburg’s streets, Ramon began to sweat. He considered reaching for a handkerchief, but General Dragomirov’s gaze convinced him otherwise. “I persuaded Legion to allow humans to solve their own problems, Your Excellency.”

  The czar snorted. “I should have you shot for that. We could have won the war if you had not interfered.”

  Ramon grew light-headed. He worried the czar’s men might act on his first statement. He wanted to scoff at the second part. His mouth went dry and he tried to swallow. “With respect, Your Excellency, without Legion’s help, Americans developed ornithopters, lightning guns, and motorized bicycles to aid the war effort.”

  The czar leaned forward, interested.

  “I submit, Your Excellency, Legion realized humanity had grown into something he couldn’t and didn’t want to control.”

  “Is this why you brought the mechanical man,” interjected General Dragomirov, “to show us what Japan has created and intimidate us?”

  Ramon shook his head, perhaps too fast. “Not at all, sir.” He pointed to the automaton. “This machine is not designed for warfare, but to serve peaceful causes. Admittedly it’s a rather sophisticated servant and I cannot even pretend to understand how he works, but he shows what Japanese scientists have achieved on their own without Legion’s help. Now imagine what could happen if Japanese and Russian scientists worked together. Imagine what could happen if Japanese, Russian, and American scientists cooperated.”

  “With such an alliance, we could conquer the world,” breathed Dragomirov.

  The czar brought his hand up in sharp rebuke, but a twinkle shone in his eye. “Could the automaton work in fields?”

  The question surprised Ramon. The machine delivered letters and navigated through streets. Farm chores would be no different than other commands. “I would imagine it could be programmed to do so, Your Excellency. I know it can be programmed to do repetitive tasks in a factory or a textile mill.”

  “Sixteen years ago, I freed Russia’s serfs, but all has not proceeded as I hoped. Not all received good land. Many who did have good land didn’t have the help to maintain it. We are struggling, but something like this could indeed help.”

  Ramon sighed and put his hands together. “I’m sorry, Your Excellency, but the mechanical man is not mine to give. He is private property and I have perhaps betrayed a trust to bring him here.”

  The czar’s eyebrows came together. “You betray Japan to aid us?”

  Ramon shook his head. “No, sir … Your Excellency. I respect you and your empire. The mechanical man is no secret. Many have seen him. I trust the Czar of all the Russias to see this as a demonstration of what humans may achieve without Legion.”

  “You have indeed captured my interest, Mr. Morales.” The czar sat back, removed a cigar from the box and lit it.

  The czar’s casual gesture lightened the room’s mood somewhat. Ramon decided to pursue the meeting’s primary purpose. “Your Excellency, pirates hijacked the Nicholas Alexandrovich and used it to attack Japan. Japan thought Russia attacked, so they launched a counterstrike on Vladivostok.” The czar remained silent, listening. “Your Excellency, may I suggest you have more to gain accepting the hostilities between Japan and Russia unfolded from an unfortunate misunderstanding? If I may be so bold, Russia and Japan have more to gain working together than going to war.”

  A knock interrupted Ramon. The czar removed the cigar from his mouth and nodded to a footman, who opened the door. A household steward entered and approached the czar with a bow. “Your Excellency, the honorable Itō Hirobumi and Dmitri Mendeleev wish an audience.”

  “Show them in.”

  The steward stood and left. A few minutes later he returned, escorting the two men. Itō dropped to one knee as did Mendeleev. The czar went to the scientist and indicated he should stand. He kissed the scientist on one cheek and then the other and then inquired after his health. As he did, Itō turned a furious gaze at Ramon.

  The czar then gave permission for Itō to rise.


  “Your Excellency, I am here to explain the circumstances of the Japanese attack on Vladivostok. It is my sincerest hope to find an understanding between our governments,” said the ambassador.

  Czar Alexander II waved the ambassador’s words aside as though irrelevant. “Yes, yes, Mr. Morales here has already explained what happened. I think we can draft suitable papers soon enough, especially if you’d be willing to discuss a trade agreement.”

  Itō cast a glance at Ramon. “He didn’t give you…”

  Ramon stood. His knees threatened to give way, but he forced himself to walk over to the automaton and gave it a pat. “Your Excellency, with your permission, I think I should return the mechanical man to Lord Katsu in Japan as soon as possible.”

  The czar cast a cold glance at Itō. “Of course. General Dragomirov will see you out.”

  Ramon knelt before the czar. When the emperor gave his leave, Ramon bowed to Itō, then reached out and shook Dmitri Mendeleev’s hand. General Dragomirov led Ramon back to the courtyard. “Do you think these things could fight our wars for us?” asked the general.

  Ramon looked at the mechanical man and shook his head. “I hope not. Fearing war keeps us from being too ready to fight. If mechanical men fought, I’m afraid we would always be at war.”

  Dragomirov nodded. “You may be right.” Soon they reached the Alexander pillar at the courtyard’s center. “Is Legion gone for good?”

  Ramon shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure what I wish for in that regard. He’s pushed us in so many good ways, even if he brought war upon us.”

  “I miss his constant chatter.”

  “I grew up in a small town. I think silence does a soul good.” Ramon reached out and shook the general’s hand. “Perhaps we’ll meet again someday.”

  “Do you need a carriage?”

  Ramon opened up the automaton’s chest and flipped switches reversing its course. He moved a small lever down a notch, which he hoped would reduce its speed. “Thank you, but I have a ride.” With that he hopped on the platform between the automaton’s treads as it sped off through St. Petersburg’s streets.