RED SUN ROGUE

by Taylor Zajonc

  “Got it,” said Jonah as he scratched his head. “Tell them to aim for the burning one.”

  “But they might hit the Scorpion too!” said Hassan.

  “Well, the Scorpion is quite a bit smaller,” said Alexis. “So, you know, they’ll probably miss it. But we’ll have to warn Vitaly all the same, tell him to give us some extra space.”

  “Do it,” ordered Jonah, already retreating as Sun-Hi plugged in the radio and began to shout orders in rapid-fire Korean. “And then get off this ship as fast as humanly possible.”

  “Where are you going?” demanded Alexis. “You can’t leave again, we just found you!”

  “I’m getting Freya,” said Jonah. “And then I’m leaving, too. And for fucks sake, don’t wait for me this time.”

  Jonah limped back into the ornate chamber, stepping once more onto the bamboo floor as the first artillery shell hit. He shielded his face with his hand as a massive section of the glinting aluminum wall burst inwards with an ear-shattering explosion. Geysers of icy water erupted around the sleek superyacht as she hurtled through a burgeoning hailstorm of artillery fire. A second shell pierced the thin hull, detonating deep in the deck, blowing apart a glass-enclosed collection of rifles and telescopes in a cloudy shower of smoke and debris. Below him, the grotesque Meisekimu pulsated beneath a layer of still-hot debris as she flashed disorganized purples, unable to connect with her transmitters.

  There she was. Freya knelt over the organic computer as though oblivious to the barrage. She whispered to Meisekimu, comforting her. Himura’s ruined body lay silently crumpled face-down just a few feet away. Freya’s axe was still buried in his lower spine, a pool of sticky blood growing around his prone form. There were scuff marks and smeared red splattering across the floor—he’d fought hard and lost badly in a clash Jonah hadn’t even bothered to watch.

  “Come on!” shouted Jonah, his voice muted in his own partially-deafened ears.

  Freya didn’t budge. “I can’t leave,” she whispered as she stroked the glowing glass, eyes fixed on the shuddering organism encased beneath it. “She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. A flawless weapon. Himura was right about one thing; she can change the equation, tip the ecological balance.”

  “She’s a death machine, programmed to blow sky high with a nuclear blast as soon as we hit Pyongyang.”

  Another shell landed high in the superstructure before she could answer, shaking the yacht as the lights around them flickered and winked out. Jonah grabbed Freya and yanked her to her feet, but she twisted away, easily throwing off his hand.

  “Come on, she’s not worth dying over!” he shouted.

  “You don’t understand,”

  Freya murmured. “Freya—we’re running out of time!”

  She looked at him and shook her head, refusing to leave. The salvos were landing closer now, one after another slamming into the stricken ship from stem to stern. Whatever time they had left to escape had already expired.

  “Freya—!” screamed Jonah, but it was too late. The nearest bulkhead burst apart at the waterline with two near-simultaneous explosions as a great wall of icy water poured in, sweeping across the ornate chamber. Jonah was ripped away from Freya by the leading edge of the wave and dragged under freezing water, his head slamming into a glass case. His mind reeled with the impact, his body trapped in a green abyss of swirling, airless motion. Spinning uncontrollably, he clawed at the water, trying to drag himself to the surface.

  Finally, his face burst free of the swirling flood, open mouth taking in one fast, gasping breath before a pair of powerful hands grabbed him by the leg, climbing up his body. Himura’s twisted face suddenly rose from the froth, inches from his own. Instinct took over and Jonah slammed his fist into the Himura’s face, once, twice, three times as the dying man threatened to pull them both under. The arcing shells were coming faster now, hitting the stricken superyacht with one deafening explosion after another.

  “I . . . knew . . . your . . . father,” Himura hissed through clenched, blood-flecked teeth. Stunned, Jonah grabbed at him, trying to hold onto Himura, but they were swept under and torn away from each other by a tsunami of floating debris, dragging Jonah ever deeper into the rapidly filling chamber.

  He broke the surface one last time to find himself alone. Himura and Freya vanished into the flood. Jonah sucked in a deep breath before diving into the raging waters, his broken ribs screaming in his chest. The explosions were so close and fast he could barely separate one from the other as he forced himself deeper into the darkness, clawing against the violent currents. Twenty feet, thirty feet, Jonah pushed against the violent floodwaters until his ears pounded and his lungs burned like acid. The ship’s interior was already a tomb, a chaotic maelstrom of electric discharge and zero visibility, with Meisekimu’s crimson light throbbing within the eye of the storm like a dying heart.

  And then his grasping fingers caught a jagged edge, a lattice of shattered metal and carbon fiber from where an artillery shell had blown a wide fissure in the hull. Jonah held himself fast against the incredible influx of floodwaters as his joints popped and muscles flexed. He fought the subzero deluge with every cell of his being, slowly forcing his body out of the gap. Emerging on the other side, Jonah was suddenly ripped away by the river, violently sweeping alongside the exterior hull as the superyacht slid past, its sharp propellers slicing through the waters just inches from his tumbling form.

  He broke the surface between sheets of ice, spitting water and coughing as he threw one shivering arm over the cold, white blocks bobbing in the choppy wake. The wounded superyacht listed in the river before him, a collapsing mass of billowing flames and ruined metal. One artillery shell after another smashed into her fragile, exposed hull as her bow and helicopter pad slipped beneath the waters for the final time. A great wave washed over her, pouring through the shattered panes of her ruined greenhouse. She groaned, hull flexing as she filled, her massive propellers suspended briefly in the air as her bridge and antennae tower went under. And then she was gone, swallowed by the Taedong, leaving only a floating patch of still-burning debris and a growing fuel slick.

  Jonah treaded the freezing waters, grateful for each breath of clear air. And he watched the surface, waiting, silently begging for Freya to emerge. He treaded water until the last of his strength left him, but she never came.

  CHAPTER 27

  Jonah stood at the bow of the surfaced Scorpion as they entered Nampo Bay under the morning light of a brilliant winter sun, the mouth of the Taedong River to their stern. He’d exchanged his saturated clothing for a survival suit, the orange neoprene ensemble matched by those of his crew. The fits weren’t perfect, Dalmar’s suit was so tight he could scarcely get the zipper halfway up his bare chest; Sun-Hi’s was so large that the arms hung down off her hands like penguin flippers. Alexis and Hassan held the white top sheet from their bed between them, forming the largest improvised white flag they could muster. Only Vitaly was missing from the deck; he piloted the sub from the command compartment beneath the open conning tower hatch.

  “There they are.” Alexis pointed to the seemingly endless Japanese invasion fleet in the distance. With the storm now passed, the flotilla seemed even more massive than Jonah could have imagined.

  “Keep that flag up nice and high,” Jonah ordered. “We want to be taken into custody, not shot on sight.”

  “I will help hold the flag,” said Dalmar, replacing a grateful Alexis.

  Jonah turned to Sun-Hi. “You getting anything on the radio?”

  “One message,” she said. “It repeats in Japanese and Korean. It says to not fight, that all sides have common enemy. There is some battle still in the east and many DPRK leaders are missing but most troops are standing down.”

  “Good,” Jonah said. “Radio Vitaly and tell him to keep course towards the center of the convoy, dead slow. And if I don’t see any of you after this, it’s been real.”

  “So profound,” said Alexis, rolling her eyes.
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br />   The crew lapsed into silence as the Scorpion plied the still waters of the bay. Jonah raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes, training the lenses on four beached Japanese amphibious transport ships below still-smoldering Nampo. A veritable sea of North Korean civilians had formed winding lines on the sand before their open bows as Japanese sailors and soldiers worked tirelessly to distribute emergency rations, generators, and warm clothes.

  As they slipped between the first of the anchored Japanese ships, soldiers and sailors alike gathered on the decks, entire crews pouring into the cold winter morning as they watched the submarine pass. Alexis lowered her side of the white flag as she raised a neoprene-encased hand to shield her face from the sun. “They’re not stopping us,” she marveled, wonder in her voice.

  And then the surrounding men moved, lining up in formation, sharply angling their elbows as they snapped the fingers of their right hands to their temples. It happened slowly at first, one man, two, five, the movement growing exponentially until every man stood at attention.

  “They’re saluting,” whispered Jonah.

  Sun-Hi placed her floppy arm around Jonah’s waist and rested her head against his shoulder. “It is the War that Jonah Stopped,” she said.

  “That it is.” Hassan smiled. “That it is indeed.”

  “I should rather call it the War of Many Burned Men,” grunted Dalmar.

  “I am so doing my princess wave,” grinned Alexis as she raised her hand. “Whad’ya say, Cap?”

  Jonah allowed himself a ghost of a smile as he silently nodded back to the saluting men, acknowledging them. “I say we get the hell out of here before they figure out we accidentally gave the North Koreans a nuclear weapon.”

  EPILOGUE

  Two weeks later. . .

  Standing atop the rocky coastal bluff, Jonah enjoyed the warm sunshine and gentle tropical breeze on his skin. He could see across the entire breadth of the beach from his vantage point, past the half-buried colonial-era Philippine township, to the Scorpion as she rocked gently against the length of collapsed concrete dock. The sun had already begun to set, its deep orange reflecting off the endless ocean as it slowly descended through purple clouds. He turned to Hassan. “You ready for this?”

  “Despite all we’ve been through, I believe I’m more nervous now than I’ve ever been before,” Hassan whispered. “It’s just a shame we don’t have any music.”

  “Be careful what you wish for,” said Jonah. “Sun-Hi has told me she’s quite the talent on an accordion.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I’ve heard they’re still pretty popular in North Korea. So, if an accordion should happen to make its way aboard the Scorpion, please let me know immediately.”

  “So that you might give it to her?” “Of course not,” Jonah said as he teasingly slapped his friend on the shoulder. “So I can eject it out the trash chute before she finds out. Same rule goes for bagpipes and bongos.”

  Alexis emerged from a rough trail they’d chopped into the jungle canopy, tiptoeing barefoot with Dalmar and Vitaly on the crook of each arm. Her long blond hair was simply braided and rested on one tanned, exposed shoulder, her freckles glowing as she smiled. Sun-Hi had expertly tailored a long sweep of immaculate Japanese white parachute silk into a wedding dress, sewing in hundreds of tiny, almost translucent shells into the bodice. Alexis wore a delicate crown of tropical flowers and carried a matching bouquet, clenched hands resting just below her slim waist. She’d worked for two days to clean the engine oil from beneath her fingernails.

  Hassan ran a hand through his thick black hair and straightened his linen suit as he shifted from foot to foot, unconsciously touching his breast pocket to verify his notes had survived their passage up the steep slope. And then they locked eyes, the rest of the universe disappearing as they stared at each other. Dalmar and Vitaly held Alexis’ hands above her head; the ethereal silk of her white dress rippling in the tropical breeze, her bare feet gliding across smooth rocks. She handed the bouquet to Dalmar and stepped up to Hassan, taking his hands in hers and squeezing tightly.

  “Hello,” Hassan whispered. “You are more beautiful than I can say.”

  She blushed, smiling up at him with unusually bashful eyes. “You’re alright yourself.”

  “I’m so happy we’re all here,” Jonah began. “I know we’ve all been incredibly busy preparing over the last few days, but—”

  “I can’t hear!” Marissa’s tinny voice squawked over the speaker of a satellite phone. “Move me closer!” Sun-Hi crept forward towards the bride and groom, holding the blocky black telephone high above her head.

  “You’re picking up the charges, right?” Jonah asked, winking at Alexis. “I’ll move through the ceremony fast, but not two-bucks-a-minute fast.”

  “You better not rush a damn thing!” Marissa protested. “I’m warning you, Jonah Blackwell! I want to hear every single word!”

  Jonah waited until the laughter subsided before speaking. “We’ve been incredibly busy repairing the Scorpion, and preparing for this moment, but I wanted to point out how happy I am that we’re here together for this ceremony.” He paused for a moment, letting his gaze pass over the bride and groom and to his crew. “We’ve not known each other for very long,” he said, “but in the short time we’ve all been together, we’ve lived more life than most.”

  “And longer than our enemies!” Dalmar interjected as he pumped the air with the wedding bouquet like a hard-won trophy.

  “Save it for the toast!” Alexis said, laughing. “The life we live is hard,” continued Jonah. “We’ve been hunted, betrayed, manipulated, left for dead. We’ve seen death among our ranks, and we’ve all known suffering in our own ways. None of us have a nation, and for some of us, the loss of loved ones is all too recent and raw. Even joyous times like this can be difficult; these are the moments that should be shared with mothers, with fathers, with brothers, and sisters.

  “But we’re not broken. And the reason we’re not broken is because we have each other. We didn’t gather here today under flag or law, the marriage you’re about to witness will have no seal or certificate. But this ceremony is performed under an altogether more ancient and sacred tradition— that of captain and crew. We’re under the flag of the stars and the law of the seas, this union sealed and certified by our bond with each other.

  “Being here, on this island, is the most beautiful contradiction I could possibly imagine. Despite the specter of conflict, we are here to celebrate the future, to celebrate new life. From beneath the shadow of destruction, we congregate to honor love itself. This island was once a graveyard, the site of a buried secret that nearly destroyed two nations. But I believe we can re-christen it, make it something beautiful once more. It’s not the first time we’ve done this—our very home was once the greatest threat we’d ever faced.

  “And in light of those sentiments, it is my greatest honor to join together two of the most exceptional people I’ve ever known.” Jonah turned to the doctor first. “Doctor Hassan Nassiri, your brilliance as a surgeon is matched only by your limitless compassion. You’re our unflagging moral compass, always guiding us to true north. For every threat we’ve faced, we’ve always known that you will be there to mend broken bones and broken hearts.”

  “And many bullet wound,” muttered Vitaly, patting his chest.

  “Thank you, my friend,” Hassan said, eyes closed against the threat of tears as he nodded in acknowledgement.

  Jonah turned to the engineer next. “Alexis Andrews, you are one of the bravest people I’ve ever met. You are unflappable, ingenious, and an incredible beauty inside and out. You’re the beating heart of this crew, the woman who not only keeps our ship running, but who has truly made it our home. I’ve seen the way you look at Hassan, the way he looks at you—and we all wish you both a lifetime of happiness as husband and wife.”

  “Thanks, Jonah,” said Alexis as she gently brushed away a single tiny tear from the corner of her eye. “That was
super sweet.”

  “They’ve both written their own vows,” said Jonah as he took a half-step back. “Hassan, would you please begin?”

  The doctor reached into his breast pocket to retrieve his folded paper. He held it clutched in his hands, but could not bring himself to open it.

  “I needn’t read this,” he said, voice trembling. “I needn’t read this to know how I feel about you. Alexis, I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you. I loved you so much that I could scarcely contain it. I would sit alone and think of things I might say when I saw you next. But when I did, the words evaporated from my mind as though they’d never existed at all. We’ve gone through so much loss together, so much violence. And as a consequence of these experiences, my first thought upon rising and the last thought before sleep is that life is so tenuous; I could so easily lose the most incredible woman I’ve ever known. Loving you is impossible, it’s reckless, it’s selfish—but it’s also undeniable, beautiful, and the very center of my every waking moment. You’ve watched me die, you’ve breathed the very breath of life back into my lungs, and I’ve never loved anyone in all my life as much as I love you.

  “And so, I, Hassan Nassiri, take you, my dearest Alexis, as my wedded wife, from this day forward, in peace or war, in calm or tempest, in wealth or poverty, in sickness, in health, to love wholly and without reservation for as long as I have breath in my body.”

  Alexis’s eyes glistened as she looked up into Hassan’s face. “I’m not sure how I’m going to tell my mother how we met,” she said, “because I doubt she’d much approve. But I know this with all my heart—my parents will learn to love you just as I have because you are the kindest, most generous, most selfless man I’ve ever known, a fact you remind of me every day. I never told you this, but I used to play a silly game whenever I met someone I thought I might like. I would wonder what our house would look like, who our friends might be if we got married. I couldn’t ever play this game when I thought of you. At first I was worried—maybe I couldn’t see into our future because it was a big unknowable filled with uncertainty and danger. And then I realized that wasn’t the case at all. It was because each moment we had together was new and amazing and incredible and unforgettable. We’ve lived through some of the worst days of my life, but I’d do it all over a thousand times for just one more moment with you.