The Brazen Shark’s bay doors opened again and this time the scientist didn’t recognize the objects which tumbled out. “What are those?”
“Simple smoke bombs.” Ipokash translated Imagawa’s words.
Perhaps a dozen people on the docks fled the wafting, black smoke. A few minutes later, ropes uncoiled and the samurai dressed in Russian uniforms, now wearing gas masks, climbed down.
“The smoke is safe,” said Imagawa, “but the masks will make Wakkanai’s people think it’s poison. The peasants will have exciting stories to tell.”
The gas masks will also obscure the faces of the samurai, thought Mendeleev.
Dogs barked, but no one fired shots. Mendeleev examined his pocket watch, then sat on the chart table’s edge. He glanced over his shoulder at the gondola’s door. They floated low enough, he entertained a fantasy of kicking it open and jumping out, but soon dismissed it. He might just get away, but where would he go? He would be a Russian in a village which thought it suffered a Russian raid. Such an escape would just play into Imagawa’s plans.
Within the hour, the warriors returned to the airship carrying small bundles. Mendeleev recognized rice bags and liquor bottles. He almost rejoiced at the prospect of something to eat besides dried fish.
“Legion, can you hear me?” asked Mendeleev silently. “If so, please let Morales and Cisneros know about the raid on Wakkanai. Have them ask why the mighty Russian army is reduced to stealing rice and sake.”
* * *
Onofre Cisneros sat up from the plans he worked on and leaned against the wall. It provided his back much-needed relief. He closed his eyes and as his mind quieted, he witnessed a battle in progress. He opened his eyes again and looked around, then checked his pocket watch. Not enough time had passed for him to have fallen asleep or dreamed.
“We are relaying images,” came Legion’s silent voice. “Aboard the Russian airship, Mendeleev watches samurai raid Wakkanai.”
“Who else is seeing this?” asked Cisneros.
“Ramon Morales sees the images. He told the Lord of the Home Affairs samurai hijacked the airship. Based on Ramon’s initial warning, the Home Affairs Lord convinced the Navy to mount a defense in Sapporo.”
Cisneros closed his eyes and continued to watch the scene as it unfolded. He noticed the samurai dressed in Russian uniforms and wearing gas masks. He groaned. Even if the Home Affairs Lord believed these were samurai, many ordinary people would not. If that were true, how many in the Cabinet of Lords would believe?
“Can you pinpoint where the samurai take their airship between raids?” asked Cisneros.
“Not precisely. Mendeleev does not have regular access to the charts and tools necessary to determine that.”
“Why not enter a samurai’s mind?” pressed Cisneros.
Legion remained silent for a long time while Cisneros continued to watch images. If not for the pictures, the captain might have thought Legion departed.
“What you propose is … problematic.” Cisneros noted Legion’s reticence.
Keeping his eyes closed, Cisneros focused on the view through Mendeleev’s eyes, trying to determine how he could help. “How is it problematic?”
“The experiment Ramon Morales proposed is to see if humans can solve their own problems. As it stands, our current involvement taints this experiment, but we are willing to proceed within these limits. We will show you what Mendeleev knows, but no more. You must find a solution to this crisis yourself.”
Cisneros heaved a deep sigh. If they knew the Russian airship’s location, Cisneros thought he could convince Katsu Kaishū and Captain Sanada to divert Bashō and stop the samurai, but did the little ship have sufficient manpower or weaponry to take such action?
Cisneros’s thoughts turned to Hoshi. He knew Maravilla. Perhaps he also knew something of Legion and would understand the images he’d seen. The captain rose and knocked on the door across the way.
“Come in,” called Hoshi.
The former samurai consulted the farmer’s almanac. Cisneros’s thoughts flashed to the season and he wondered if Hoshi had left the harvest.
“How well do you know Professor Maravilla?” Cisneros turned and closed the door.
Hoshi closed the book and set it on the low table next to him. “He is rude like you and not a little mad.”
Cisneros smiled at the description. He sat cross-legged on the floor and faced Hoshi. “You’ve heard of Legion?” When Hoshi nodded, Cisneros pressed on. “What do you think it is?”
Hoshi’s brow furrowed. “Gods or demons, if real. Perhaps you should tell me.”
Cisneros shrugged. “Perhaps Legion is a little of both. You doubt its existence?”
Hoshi shrugged. “I believe whatever Legion is, he provides the professor insights and allows him to see things the professor alone could not see. It’s unclear to me whether Legion is any less mad than the professor.”
Cisneros suppressed a snort. “I don’t think he’s mad, but he is very ancient and perhaps a little bored. His personality is fragmented.”
“Perhaps you could tell me more about why I’m here. All I know is that Imagawa Masako has stolen an airship and plans to use it against Japan.”
Cisneros nodded. “She has already attacked. She dropped bombs on Sapporo and her forces raid Wakkanai as we speak.”
“I see.” Hoshi folded his hands and looked down. After a moment, the samurai met Cisneros’s gaze. “I gather there are two objectives. We must prevent Imagawa from wreaking further havoc and we must discourage Japan from attacking Russia.”
“It sounds like Ramon Morales has convinced the Lord of Home Affairs to focus on defense rather than attack,” said Cisneros.
Hoshi snorted. “The choice to send more defensive troops was not a difficult one for the Lord of Home Affairs who is concerned with keeping Japan safe. The people who must be convinced are the Lords of the Army and Navy.”
“The Lord of the Navy is on this ship and I plan to meet with him today to discuss plans for strengthening the Japanese airships.”
Hoshi nodded. “These ships are visible from miles away. Their primary offensive advantage is that few guns can fire high enough to destroy them.”
“That’s true.” Cisneros’s brow creased. He’d seen cannon fire destroy two airships, but they’d been grounded first. “Of course, it also means the airships can get close to a target and use little energy to strike.”
“That is true, but I think it’s a short-lived advantage.” Hoshi brought out a piece of paper and dipped a brush in ink. He painted a jagged line. “To destroy airships, you must summon the gods of lightning. The Americans have done this and it dissuaded the Russians from pursuing their attack. Convince Katsu Kaishū he can summon lightning if he is patient. It may stay his hand.”
A sly grin crept across the captain’s face. “I can do you one better. I can show him how to summon the gods of thunder and although it’s a power almost useless against a ground target, it will devastate a hydrogen-filled airship.”
“Summoning thunder gods is easy. All you need is a drum,” said Hoshi. “I don’t see how that helps us.”
“I speak of something which will produce a much larger bang than a mere drum, my friend.”
Hoshi narrowed his gaze. “Interesting.”
Cisneros nodded. “I just wish finding Imagawa was as easy.”
As soon as he finished speaking with Hoshi, Cisneros returned to his quarters. He understood electromagnetic principles well enough to make some guesses about the gun Hoshi mentioned, but he had a simpler idea. He sketched a drawing and placed it underneath the stack he planned to show Captain Sanada and Katsu Kaishū.
He walked forward to the captain’s quarters and knocked. The captain bade him enter. They both sat at the table. Katsu had dispensed with the western suit in favor of a kimono, white shirt, and hakama. Although the attire looked more casual at first glance, the one-time samurai seemed more menacing and ready for action than he had before.
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br /> Cisneros laid the plans on the table. “The fundamental advantage of airships is their ability to travel at altitude and their range. As you’ve seen, we have just crossed the Pacific and approach Japan in less than two weeks and in considerable comfort.” Although his back twinged, he felt little irony, though chairs would make him a little happier. He presented a few ideas for improving the gas bags and engines. “In the long run I think airships are better suited for commerce than war. When used in war, I see them less as vehicles and more as floating fortresses.”
Captain Sanada nodded, but Lord Katsu folded his arms. “They do have the ability to attack other airships on their own terms, at the same elevation.”
“Indeed.” Cisneros anticipated the question. He pulled out designs for enhanced ribbing around the gasbags which could hold soldiers behind shields. This airship resembled the flying fortress he described. “From such structures, soldiers could fire rifles or even crossbows.”
“Crossbows?” asked Katsu, at once indignant but with curiosity piqued. “We use non-flammable gas aboard our airships. Why would we want such an ancient weapon?”
Cisneros pulled out another drawing. “Imagine phosphorus-tipped crossbow bolts.”
Sanada and Katsu studied the plans. Katsu looked up and nodded to Cisneros. “A fine idea and Japan produces phosphorus in good quantity. The Russian airships would indeed be vulnerable, but we’d have to be well within rifle and cannon range for phosphorus crossbow bolts to be effective.”
“I have one more idea.” The merchant captain’s voice held an apologetic note. “It’s so simple, I almost hesitate to show it.” He withdrew a drawing of a simple rocket stand like those used to launch fireworks. “You could deploy simple rockets right away. Breech a Russian ship’s outer skin and send a rocket inside, you’ll blow it to kingdom come, as though you’d summoned the god of thunder.”
“I like it,” said Lord Katsu. “We will implement this soon.”
Captain Sanada rubbed his chin. “I have heard the Americans have a lightning gun.”
Cisneros sighed, wondering if everyone had heard about this weapon besides himself. He flipped the paper over and sketched batteries, spinning magnets, and electrodes. “I could develop a weapon like this, but it would take a few months, perhaps a year.”
“Only a year…” Lord Katsu stood and walked to the window. “Spring departs. Birds cry. Fish eyes filled with tears.”
“Beg your pardon?” Cisneros’s eyebrows came together.
“Pardon me. It’s a poem by Bashō. I see great power in the weapon you propose, but it also strikes me as terrible and frightening. I supported the Meiji Restoration because I thought Japan could benefit from contact with the outside world, but this would take Japan beyond learning. It would give Japan real power—power of conquest.” Katsu turned around and shook his head. “I confess I fear such a weapon and pray we would have the wisdom to use it when necessary and not in vain attempts at conquest.”
The subdued response took Cisneros aback.
“Develop this idea, but you must share it with no one besides myself.” Katsu turned to Captain Sanada. “Never speak of this to anyone.”
Sanada lowered his eyes to the table and spoke solemn words in Japanese.
Katsu retrieved small, flat-bottomed bowls and a bottle of sake. He poured three drinks, then held up his bowl. “I pray for the day when airships open up an exchange of ideas between Japan and the rest of the world. I pray for the day when we gain enough wisdom to appreciate each other rather than the vanity to destroy one another.”
Cisneros lifted his bowl and drank. The wine soon left him light headed. He gathered up the plans and returned to his quarters.
“If I may intrude,” said Legion. “I think I understand what disturbs Lord Katsu. Please be seated.”
Cisneros lay the drawings aside, sat down and closed his eyes. Legion showed Cisneros a distant star, bloated and red. The star soon exploded. Cisneros attempted to blink, even though his eyes were already closed. The force of the stellar blast caused dust and gas clouds to collapse on themselves. They began to form a new star system surrounded by planets.
“Destruction of this magnitude is a prelude to the power of creation,” explained Legion. “Lord Katsu is wise to eschew a power which could make him like a god.”
“And you?” asked Cisneros. “Have you ever been tempted to be a god?”
“We have been tempted and we have learned we do not have enough knowledge or wisdom for such a solemn responsibility.”
Cisneros nodded, realizing even alien swarms deluded themselves.
* * *
Ramon’s head pounded the day after visiting Lord Ōkubo, exacerbated by the visions Legion showed him of the raid on Wakkanai. Despite that, he felt as though a great weight had lifted. Before leaving the lord’s home, Ōkubo drafted a letter they could present to any officials who stopped them, explaining they were the Meiji Government’s guests. This allowed Ramon and Fatemeh freedom to explore again. Fatemeh decided she wanted to visit a Shinto shrine.
“Is it quiet there?” Ramon held his head as he asked the question.
“It’s a good place for meditation,” said Fatemeh.
An hour later, Lord Katsu’s mechanical man pulled the rickshaw through Tokyo’s streets until houses gave way to a rolling, grass-covered landscape. Thick, white clouds hung overhead. Green leaves still clung to many trees, but a few turned vivid reds, oranges and yellows. The rickshaw stopped at the base of a hill. A pathway led to a two-story building. Sloping roofs overhanging both the first and second floor extended into points. A wind chime sang a gentle melody. Almost two weeks after they arrived, Ramon began to fall in love with Japan and wished he could remain long enough to grow comfortable with the language.
“I’ve been reading about Japan’s religions,” explained Fatemeh, as they walked up the hill. “Shintoism is Japan’s native religion and involves the worship of the local gods who help with the harvests, trade, war, whatever.” Near the Shinto shrine, visible through pine trees stood a Buddhist temple. “The Buddhists, on the other hand, don’t even seem to have a god. They believe self is illusion and if we live a noble life, we’ll be reincarnated in a higher station than the one we occupied as mortals.”
“A higher station?” asked Ramon. “You mean like if we were miners, we’d come back as mine owners.”
She shrugged. “That’s one interpretation, but they seem to believe in other planes of existence as well, also other worlds.”
“You seem troubled.”
“Only because this idea resembles what you’ve told me about the vision Legion showed you.” She sighed. “The idea that self is an illusion scares me a little.”
Ramon’s eyes widened. “You? Scared?”
She shivered and stepped closer to Ramon. “I’ve been scared and running for years. You’re the first person who has made me want to settle down and find my own place.”
Ramon looked up the steps toward the temple. “This place seems more peaceful than scary.”
“They say ghosts haunt the temples and keep the gods company.”
Ramon reached out and gave her hand a discrete squeeze. “Ghosts can’t harm us.” With that he led her up the steps.
At the top, a priest greeted them in Japanese. Fatemeh asked if they could pray. The priest bowed and indicated where they should go. They removed their shoes and walked through the entranceway where they reached a stone basin. “We should wash our hands,” explained Fatemeh.
She retrieved a dipper and poured water over Ramon’s hands, then poured water first over her left, then her right hand. Once done she poured some water into her cupped hand and brought it to her mouth. She offered the dipper to Ramon again.
Fatemeh tilted her head back and gargled. Ramon laughed and nearly spit the water at her. She glared at him as they proceeded through the door into the main hall. Three other people knelt in silent prayer or contemplation. One stood up and left, bowing as he passed Ramon
and Fatemeh.
Fatemeh reached up and rang a bell hanging by the door, causing Ramon’s head to pound anew.
“Why’d you do that?”
“It makes sure we have the attention of the kami—the gods.”
“It sure got my attention.”
She placed some coins in a wooden box next to the door, then went inside and knelt down.
“What do you plan to pray for?” asked Ramon.
“Peace.” The way she hissed the word, Ramon wasn’t sure if she meant to answer the question or requested him to shut up and leave her alone. Ramon thought he might as well pray too, though he had to admit he felt more than a little sacrilegious praying to pagan gods.
As Ramon knelt down, a strange sensation washed over him, as though something transported him from the temple. At first he blamed the hangover, then he looked down and saw a diagram of a machine with strong hydraulic rear legs which raised and lowered it. Gears and pulleys manipulated claws which could reach out and grasp things and place them into a maw. A storage basket awaited in the machine’s belly. Voices discussed the force necessary to pick chile peppers and whether hopping optimized the device’s locomotion. The voices belonged to Legion, but other voices resonated in the background as well.
“Have you reached a verdict?” A judge posed the question.
“We have,” came another voice.
The view shifted as though Ramon looked up for a moment. He recognized the courtroom in Mesilla. Billy McCarty and Luther Duncan sat at a table with a lawyer. From the ramrod straight demeanor, bushy mustache and short, dark hair, Ramon gathered the lawyer must be Albert Fountain. They were in good hands.
The view shifted back to the paper for a moment while the clerk retrieved the written verdict from the jury foreman. Hands sketched a battery and a few more linkages and gears.
“What am I seeing?” Ramon asked.
“We thought you wanted to know Mr. McCarty and Mr. Duncan’s fate. You see the end of their trial as witnessed by Professor Maravilla,” explained Legion.
The Brazen Shark Page 14
