Miriam replied softly so as not to be overheard.
“Amazingly enough, pretty good, considering that I’m the first outsider that’s ever been allowed to accompany them on one of their operations.”
“They do seem like a pretty tight bunch,” said Brown.
“But I guess that’s part of the territory.”
Even though Miriam barely knew the man who walked beside her, she liked his genuineness and his soft-spoken manner.
“They’re an incredible bunch of characters. To tell you the truth, when I first met them I didn’t like them at all, and I’m sure the feeling was mutual. But we put up with each other for Admiral Walker’s sake, and slowly but surely they began to open up to me.”
“Respect is the first bridge to trust and acceptance,” offered Brown.
“And it has to be earned, which speaks well of you. Doc.”
Not one to take a compliment lightly, Miriam blushed.
“I hope I’ve truly earned their respect,” she reflected.
“Lord knows they’ve got mine. Though each one of them has his idiosyncrasies, it’s somewhat comforting to know they’ll be around in a lifeor-death situation. In away it’s almost like hanging out with your brothers. They might give you the business now and then, but they’ll always be around to protect you from the neighborhood bully.”
As they climbed up asea grape-covered sand dune, she added, “They’ll betaking me out on the rifle range this afternoon, and then there’s going to be a little introductory hand-to-hand combat session.
How’s your work on the Bokken going?”
Brown held back his response until they had climbed up onto the dirt trail that would lead them directly to the van.
“So far, so good. The repairs to the bow are just about completed. And the young submariners picked to run her are well on their way to familiarizing themselves with the boat’s unique operational systems.”
“Is it true that you’ll be accompanying us?”
Miriam asked hopefully.
Brown readily answered.
“How could I resist Admiral Walker’s gracious invitation? And two ex-shipmates of mine wouldn’t miss this cruise for the world. If I don’t go along, who’s going to bethere to keep them out of trouble?”
Miriam was relieved to hear this news, and she couldn’t help but laugh as Traveler’s voice rang out ahead of them, ashe spotted the parked van.
“Allright ladies! Ham ‘n’ eggs here we come!”
This same dawn found Dr. Yukio Ishii seated on his favorite plateau, overlooking Takara Bay. A storm had just passed over the island, and as it moved off to the west, the rain-washed morning sky stretched overhead in a clear, powdery blue expanse.
The air itself was sweet with the promise of spring, and the elder felt atone with the bright pink cherry blossoms that were just beginning to breakthrough on the grounds below.
When he’d left for his pilgrimage four days ago, the buds of these same trees had been tightly sealed.
With their opening, a great secret was symbolically revealed, and Ishii was aware of the very essence of time.
Even without his presence, the world went on.
This was most obvious ashe peered down at the sprawling industrial complex just stirring to life on this glorious new day.
Looking like so many ants from this lofty vantage point, his employees traversed the narrow streets, obediently heading off to work to fill another day’s rice bowl. Yet how many of these pitiful creatures really understood their rightful place in the grand scheme of things? To the majority of them, this was but a job, away to pass time, that most precious gift of all.
Of course, a treasured handful of his associates had successfully lifted the veil of consciousness and now understood their place in the Way. During his brief absence, these were the souls he most missed communing with. But the call to cleanse himself had been a strong one. And though there was still much work to be done to insure his dream’s success, Ishii had left the everyday world of man, to walk the wild, unpopulated hills of his island home.
For four lonely days, he’d seen not another soul.
With only an occasional mouthful of cool spring water to give him subsistence, he’d surrendered his body and soul to the great nature spirits that haunted Takara’s hills and valleys.
He’d found shelter in a quiet grotto that lay near the island’s eastern shore. Here a crude plywood lean-to protected him from the wind and the rain.
Ishii carried no spare clothing. He had only the white robe on his back. The only time he spoke was to mutter his prayers, except when he addressed astray dog that had befriended him along the way before abruptly running off to chase a rabbit.
The basic simplicity of this primal lifestyle clarified the elder’s inner vision. And now he was prepared for the great victory it had taken him a virtual lifetime to achieve.
Ishii found it strange that the only person he really wished he could have brought along to share his many insights was Yoko Noguchi. On the day before he’d left on his unannounced retreat, he had spent the better part of a morning with this delightful young woman, giving her a tour of the grounds.
Unlike many of his employees, she had a probing intellect, and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. There could be no doubting her potential talent as a scientist, though her political beliefs left a lot to be desired.
Like many young adults, Yoko had a naive trust in Japan’s current government. As if this socalled democracy had any real concern for the cherished will of the people!
There came a time in every society’s development when the people needed to realize that a pure democracy was not the best way to be governed. The average citizen was too self-centered, too concerned with minor, everyday wants and desires to be an effective leader. Rather than be wasted on such persons, political power was best kept in the hands of an elite, those whose vision went beyond the mundane.
Ishii had living proof that such a system worked, here on Takara. And if he could convince Yoko Noguchi of this fact, he’d have a powerful new ally who could be a conduit to an entire generation that desperately needed spiritual awakening.
Yoke’s generation and the ones that would follow were the real future of Japan. Above all, they had to be cleansed of the corrupt western cultural influences that blinded them to the richness of their heritage.
Like a malignant cancer, the evils generated by rock and roll, drugs, and petty consumerism had to be removed before the contamination was irreversible.
Ishii could only help them make the first allimportant cut. Then it would be up to leaders such as Yoko Noguchi to continue the revolution, by showing her contemporaries that the true path to self-fulfillment lay in not imitating Western values. It could be found instead in the shrines of their ancestors.
Stimulated by this lofty thought, Ishii foresaw a day in the not so distant future when Japan would be reborn in spirit. And like a cherry blossom opening to the first call of spring, the land of the Rising Sun would flourish as it had in centuries past, before the coming of the barbarian.
The sound of heavy footsteps broke behind him, and Ishii didn’t have to turn around to identify their source. Called thusly back to the everyday world of man, the elder summoned forth a voice that was hoarse from disuse.
“So, you have not missed our appointed practice time, Satsugai.”
“Sensei, we have been very worried about you,” replied the concerned submariner.
“No one has seen you for four entire days.”
Ishii held back his response ashe stood upright and bowed deeply toward the rising sun. Only then did he turn to face Okura, who was dressed in a white robe similar to his own.
“There was no reason to worry, my friend. It’s good for the soul to break free from the world of man now and then, and to lose itself in nature. I hope that you used this time wisely to establish your own oneness with the Way.”
“That I have, Sensei. I have found my peace of mind through fast
ing and prayer.”
“Then let us see the results,” replied Ishii, who bent over and removed two samurai swords from the lacquered box placed beside his prayer rug.
These weapons had orange tassels hanging from their hilts, which were composed of diamondshaped, mother-of-pearl inlay. The razor-sharp steel of the blade itself had a smoky, wavy pattern to it, the result of a special tempering process known as sambon sugi.
“I hope you don’t mind if we forsake the bokken and utilize the katana on this glorious dawn,” remarked the elder.
“These swords are said to have been among those used by the great samurai Saigo Takamori and his followers. It’s hard to believe that over a century has passed since those one hundred brave warriors raised their swords against the Western-influenced fools in the Meiji government, those who had the effrontery to outlaw the samurai way of life. Though the government rifles ripped our samurai brethren to shreds, their spirits have lived on, to guide our souls and to return Nippon to the path of righteousness.”
Ishii then handed one of the swords to Okura, and took a second to tie a white hachimaki around his forehead. This particular samurai headband had a bright red rising sun dyed in its center, and emblazoned in black ink on its sides were the words Shichisho Hokoku (serve the nation for seven lives).
“Remember, Satsugai,” added Ishii, “if in his mind the warrior doesn’t forget one thing, that being death, he’ll never find himself caught short.”
Both men faced each other at the center of the clearing, bowed and then adopted an opening attitude, with knees slightly bent and both hands on the hilts of their swords. Ishii appeared content to let his younger opponent make the first move, and Okura all too soon obliged him.
With a quick fluid motion, the submariner slashed down at Ishii’s neck. Without shifting his feet, Ishii needed only a minimal movement of his katana to counter this powerful blow. Not to be denied, Okura yanked his sword aside, and raised it high over his head, seemingly taunting the elder to strike out at his exposed body. Ishii took the bait and lunged forward, yet not before Okura was able to cut downward and block this blow.
Ishii loudly grunted and pulled his katana free.
His eyes gleamed with determination, and he wasted no time in once again taking the offensive. They exchanged alightning-quick series of blows that filled the air with the raw, metallic clash of steel upon steel.
Ishii was in the process of cutting downward toward his opponent’s head when Okura alertly ducked, just as the fatal blow was about to hit home. From this crouching position, he proceeded to sweep his sword upward, catching the hilt of Ishii’s sword in the process, and separating it from the startled elder’s grasp.
As the sword clattered to the ground, Okura took a step backward and bowed. Ishii returned this gesture, appearing pleasantly surprised by the bout’s outcome.
“So, it appears that the master is now the student,” observed Ishii.
“I have waited many dawns for this momentous day to come, my friend. At long last you are atone with the Way, and now not even death will interfere with your divine mission.”
He beckoned Okura to join him at the overlook.
After stashing their swords in the lacquered box, both men stood on the rocky lip of the plateau and gazed out at the glimmering waters of the bay.
The sun had long since broken over the horizon, and was quickly rising in the blue sky. It promised to be a warm day. Even the circling gulls seemed to be celebrating the arrival of spring by calling out to each other in constant streams of animated bird chatter.
It was the shrill blast of a ship’s whistle that diverted the attention of Ishii and Okura to the pier. A small trawler had just castoff its lines, and as it turned for the sea, it passed yet another docked vessel, whose gray, v-shaped hull was for the most part submerged.
“How are things aboard the Katana?” questioned the elder, whose gaze remained locked on the sleek submarine he had just asked about.
“All is going as planned, Sensei,” answered this vessel’s captain.
“Our latest refit was completed with a minimum of difficulties. The only system currently not on-line is our passive sonar array. Several critical components of the Fenik unit were found to be functioning improperly. We’re awaiting replacements, which are to be flown in from the manufacturer.”
“Do you foresee any delay in carrying out your scheduled mission, Satsugai?”
Okura’s response was firm.
“The Katana will be ready to put to sea as planned, Sensei. Even if the sonar components fail to arrive in time, the array can still be operated using the old parts.”
Ishii’s relief was most apparent.
“That’s all I wanted to hear, my friend. I have waited too long for this momentous day to have it delayed by a mere mechanical problem.
“This only goes to show how important it is for us to replace our current fleet of submarines with more advanced vessels of our own design. Though both the Katana and the Bokken have served us well, they are rapidly approaching obsolescence, and will all too soon need to be retired.”
“Sensei,” remarked Okura guardedly.
“Recently we had an unexpected visitor aboard the Katana. An employee by the name of Yoko Noguchi was interested in a tour of the boat.”
The mere mention of the young scientist’s name caused a warm grin to raise the corners of Ishii’s mustached mouth, and he casually questioned.
“And did you give her this tour?”
“Why of course, Sensei. She was most adamant, and said that you had already approved this request.
I hope that I did the right thing.”
“You need not be concerned, Satsugai. Miss Noguchi is a valued new member of our family. So tell me, how did she enjoy the Katana?”
Okura hesitated a moment before answering this question.
“If I remember correctly, she appeared to be a bit claustrophobic, and wasn’t all that at case, especially in the tighter spaces. She asked the usual questions, though she was particularly interested in our range, speed, storage capacity, and maximum submerged endurance. She was also curious as to the whereabouts of the Bokken.”
“And how did you answer her?” asked Ishii, who had yet to give Yoko the clearance needed for access to this particular piece of sensitive information.
“Since she was not on the Class-A security list, 1 gave her the standard reply, Sensei. As far as she knows, the Bokken is presently at an undisclosed location, probing the seabed for mineral deposits.”
“Excellent, Satsugai. Hopefully, once she proves herself loyal, we can reveal the true manner in which we are utilizing our submarine fleet.”
Most satisfied that Okura had handled this situation properly, Ishii added, “Now how about joining me in the commissary for some breakfast? I don’t know about you, old friend, but after fasting for four days, I’m positively famished!”
Fourteen
It was shortly afternoon when the penstocks were opened, and the sea came flooding into the drydock where the Bokken was berthed. The crew spent some anxious moments before learning whether or not the repairs to the bow had been successful. Things were especially tense in the forward torpedo room, where Pete Frystak and his men closely monitored the compartment for any leakage. And all breathed along sigh of relief, when word came down that they were safely afloat, for the torpedo room remained as dry as the day it was originally constructed.
It was a very happy retired weapons officer who escorted a group of yard workers up onto the deck of the now floating submarine. Close at his side was his bunkmate and invaluable assistant. Ensign Adie Avila.
“Well, there goes the last of ‘em,” remarked Pete Frystak as the gang of metal workers exited the Bokken via its aft gangway.
“The torpedo room is all ours now. Shall we see what they left us?”
Adie nodded and turned for the forward access trunk that would take them straight down into this compartment. The young Texan took his time
transitting the trunk’s narrow steel ladder. It was primarily designed for emergency egress, which made descents awkward at best.
Only when he was firmly on the deck below did Adie peer up the trunk to address his associate.
“Careful with those last couple of rungs, Pete.
They’re treacherous!”
Much to the startled sailor’s surprise, Pete Frystak proceeded to smoothly slide down the sides of the ladder like afireman did with a pole. Ashe plopped down onto the deck, he issued his shocked shipmate an all-knowing wink and said matter-of-factly, “A guy can learn a lot hanging around these pigboats for the better part of three decades, Adie. So wipe that surprised look off your face, and let’s get to work making room for those fish we’ll betaking on shortly.”
On the opposite end of the Bokken, Stanley Roth was in the midst of a surprise inspection of the engine room. Now that they were afloat, sailing time was quickly approaching, which meant that the diesels had to be completely operational. There could be no going back for spare parts or more instruction once the boat’s CO gave the order to castoff lines.
This would be especially real to them once they entered enemy waters, and the veteran submariner wanted to be absolutely certain they had done all the vital preparatory work beforehand.
His first stop was at the oil reservoir. He really didn’t know what to expect ashe used a screw driver to remove the cover plate, then switched on a flashlight and peered inside. The golden sheen of fresh oil met his eyes, and he couldn’t help but be gratified.
“Well, I’ll be,” he muttered.
“My arteries should be so clean.”
Yet another pleasant surprise awaited him beside the reduction gears, where Seaman Miller was well into repacking the shaft coupling. Assisting him with this time-consuming task was Senior Machinist Bob Marchetto.
“That’s the way to keep at it. Miller,” Roth praised.
“Now if your assistant there gives me agood report on those diagnostic tests, my day will really be made.”
As usual, Bob Marchetto was all business ashe looked up and replied, “You hit the nail right on the head, Chief. Once we drained and replaced the oil and put in anew filter, she passed the oil pressure test with no trouble at all. We also got positive results with the intake-manifold vacuum reading, and the cylinder-compression leakage and balance tests.”
Sea of Death Page 17