The Brazen Shark

by David Lee Summers

  Screams sounded in the night as the samurai cut ropes. The Brazen Shark floated almost twenty feet off the ground, over the treetops. If the climbers knew what to do in a fall, they would be fine, though some might suffer broken limbs. Imagawa hoped at least one or two suffered a broken neck.

  She walked over to the window. The Russian soldiers raised rifles. “Drop ballast!”

  Water splashed on the ground lifting rocks and mud. Despite that, the Russian soldiers held their ground and fired. Two windows in the gondola shattered and the warriors dropped to the deck.

  Imagawa turned around. The helmsman, Shichiroji, lay on the floor, head punctured by a burbling bullet hole. She ground her teeth. He was a good, loyal man. She climbed to her knees, found Nanbu, and pointed to the dead helmsman. “Get him out the door. He’s almost one hundred fifty pounds worth of ballast.”

  Nanbu nodded, then stood and drug the helmsman to the door and shoved him out.

  The Russians fired again, but this time, the airship had climbed beyond their range.

  “Engaging the engines,” called a voice from the dark.

  Nanbu took the helm. “What’s our course?”

  “Southwest, toward Korea.” Imagawa walked to the window and considered. The Russians now knew someone had stolen one of their airships. There were Japanese bodies behind. She wondered if this would be enough to make problems for her. “Belay that order, swing back around over the lodge. Let’s drop a few bombs on those Russian soldiers, make them pay.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Nanbu. He swung the wheel around, hard. Another warrior called for men in the bomb bay to stand by.

  Imagawa took the wheel from Nanbu, the uneasy sensation of unfinished business gnawing at her gut. “Gather every man not otherwise engaged and search this ship. I think there are Russians aboard.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Nanbu bowed, then pointed to two men and summoned them to follow.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The War in the Air

  When Mendeleev failed to convince the samurai to evacuate the airship, Hoshi worked out a plan with Ramon and Fatemeh. With intelligence from Legion, they would find the fisherman’s wife first and get her to safety. They would then find Mendeleev and do as much damage to the airship as possible. To that end, Hoshi had allowed Ramon to take point as they proceeded to Ipokash’s cabin while he took up the rear.

  As a result, in the cabin, Hoshi stood closest to the door. From the whispers of those near the window, he learned Russian troops surrounded the airship. A confrontation ensued. Muffled shouts echoed through the halls. From time to time, footsteps clanged down the hallway outside. The ship tipped and swayed as Russian soldiers grabbed onto the lines. Soon afterwards, a loud popping heralded the tether lines’ release. Hoshi’s stomach fluttered as the ship lifted into the air.

  “We should take the engines,” whispered Hoshi. “There will be fewer guards than in the gondola. It will give us a tactical advantage and we might sabotage the ship as we hoped.”

  Cisneros’s men nodded to each other. Fatemeh placed her hands on her hips, as though poised to argue.

  “He’s right, corazón. The only other option is to sit here and wait to be captured.”

  She thought for a moment, then nodded.

  “Are there enough of us?” asked Apodaca.

  Hoshi lifted his chin toward Shinriki and switched to Japanese. “Will you and Ipokash help?”

  Shinriki gazed into his wife’s eyes. After a moment they both gave a sharp nod.

  Hoshi smiled, eased the door open and stepped into the hall. Having some room, he took a deep breath, then drew his katana. He stepped gingerly down the hall all too conscious of his heartbeat and his tabi susurrating against the metal deck. At the end of the hall, he threw open a door. A guard, on edge from the earlier excitement, whirled around to confront them. Hoshi thrust with his sword and the man collapsed in a gagging groan. Hoshi withdrew the sword and shoved the body to the side.

  He continued on, just noticing Fatemeh’s quiet disappointment and Ramon urging her forward. Like the Japanese ships, a catwalk ran toward the tail, but the ship’s envelope enclosed this one. Large gas bags billowed and undulated just above and to each side, like some gigantic beast’s organs.

  Hoshi visualized the ship from the outside. The first pair of engines were amidships, just outside the cargo holds. Hoshi took a moment to whisper over his shoulder. “Will we have to go through the hold to reach the forward engines?”

  Apodaca shook his head. Although he had fought in the Battle of Denver, he hadn’t boarded either airship. “I remember looking at plans. I think there’s access to the stub keel ten meters further up.”

  Hoshi didn’t know metric units well, but noted a door about thirty shaku ahead and pressed on. A moment later, he came to the doorway and a ladder that led to a lower catwalk against the starboard hull. A similar catwalk stood opposite. He pointed to Apodaca and Rodriguez and indicated they should take the port side. He’d take starboard. Once the two sailors disappeared, Ramon, Fatemeh, Ipokash and Shinriki approached. “Stay up here and watch for trouble.”

  Hoshi disappeared down the starboard ladder. He walked along the stub keel catwalk and came to a wide spot where two men watched dials and turned valves. A Russian wore coveralls and a tool belt. The other man wore a kimono and a hakama.

  An alarm bell sounded and the men looked up. Hoshi struck at the Japanese man, who dodged long enough to draw his own katana. Hoshi jumped back, raised his weapon and struck downward, catching the man in the neck. He fought to stay upright, but collapsed to his knees.

  “I have come to take the ship from the pirates! Will you help us?” Hoshi spoke the words in English, then in Japanese. The Russian mechanic shook his head and backed away, confused. Hoshi needed Ipokash.

  He patted the air in a “stay put” motion, then ran back along the catwalk and climbed the stairs. There, a samurai held a wakizashi knife to Ipokash’s throat. Shinriki lay on the ground. Ramon stood, revolver drawn.

  “Masuda Hoshi, I never would have expected to see you again,” said the samurai.

  Hoshi’s brow furrowed. “Nanbu?”

  “Come with me. Imagawa will want to see you.”

  Rodriguez appeared behind Nanbu. “Drop the knife, friend!” He spoke Spanish, but distracted Nanbu just enough for Hoshi to deliver a sword thrust.

  Nanbu dropped the knife and jumped backwards. Hoshi pushed past Ipokash, which gave Nanbu enough time to draw his own katana and thrust. Hoshi knocked the sword aside and jumped back. As he did, warriors ran in from fore and aft surrounding the group.

  The narrow catwalk gave Hoshi an advantage as he pressed forward. He could take on each man one at a time, but he feared for his friends. As he considered surrender, Nanbu thrust. Hoshi countered it, knocking the katana from Nanbu’s hand. The warrior screamed. Hoshi thrust his elbow into Nanbu’s face, knocking him backward into the arms of the warrior behind.

  “I will speak to Imagawa.”

  “Take these people to the hold and watch them.” Nanbu held his bleeding nose and struggled to stand. “Accompany me to the gondola.”

  Hoshi nodded and sheathed his katana. Imagawa’s lieutenant pushed past the men who lined the catwalk, clearing a narrow path. Hoshi followed. He cast a backward glance long enough to see Ipokash helping Shinriki to his feet.

  When Hoshi arrived in the gondola, Imagawa peered out the window through a spyglass. She looked much as he remembered: fierce, strong, proud. She turned, casting eyes from Nanbu and the cloth he held under his bleeding nose to Hoshi. Her widened eyes betrayed surprise.

  “I never thought I’d see you again,” she said. “Though I must admit, when I asked myself who could sneak past my guards and get aboard this ship, yours was the name that kept coming to mind.”

  “I thought you were dead, Imagawa.” Hoshi took a step forward. Nanbu raised an arm to block him but Imagawa waved him aside. “Why do I find you commanding a Russian airship?”

>   “Because a Japan which insists I serve men has swallowed the Japan where I was a warrior.” She snorted. “Why do you attempt to destroy my airship?”

  “Because I still love Japan and its people even if I cannot live in the new regime.” He fought to free his voice from emotion. He came close to saying, ‘Because I still love you and don’t want to see you throw your life away.’

  She narrowed her gaze and studied him, as though she heard the unspoken part.

  Hoshi frowned and fought to return to matters at hand and not ones abandoned long ago. “Give up this vessel. Admit to the government you’re the one who attacked Japan.”

  “This vessel is all but finished now.” Imagawa shrugged. “An admission implies I committed a crime. I fight to free our country from those who would destroy our culture and traditions.”

  Before Hoshi could respond, the ship jolted to the side.

  “What the hell!” Imagawa ran to the window and opened her spyglass. Hoshi looked around. No one opposed him, so he joined her. A Japanese airship’s silhouette blocked out cold starlight. Was it the Bashō? He couldn’t tell.

  Sparks showered from the Japanese airship’s upper rim. They fired a rocket, just as Cisneros proposed. Hoshi gritted his teeth.

  “Hard to port, now! Full power on the starboard engines!” Imagawa fanned her arms out. “I want spotters around the gondola.”

  A man standing before a bank of dials shook his head. “The first attack damaged the propeller on starboard engine number one.” Hoshi gathered the man must be acting engineer.

  “Cut power on the port side, then. Swing around now!”

  The second rocket missed, but sparks flew from the Japanese airship again. When Hoshi rode across the Pacific, he never sensed airships were agile craft. The Russian airship’s long, shuddering turn confirmed his guess.

  “Third rocket bounced off the skin!” Hoshi couldn’t tell who called out in the darkened gondola. The voice came from near the chart table.

  Imagawa continued to watch. She beckoned Nanbu, who pushed Hoshi aside. “I think the rockets are just basic fireworks,” she said.

  Nanbu nodded. “Devastating if they hit a gas bag.”

  Imagawa pointed out the window. “There are two men mid-way up the enemy’s gas bag. They’re shielded, but they expose themselves when they fire. Get marksmen up to our gun ports. Pick them off.”

  “Fourth rocket missed,” called the spotter.

  “We have two nine-pound cannon aboard. We could try to punch a hole in their ship,” suggested Nanbu.

  Imagawa pursed her lips. “Don’t waste time. Get the snipers in position. If you have extra men, you can try the cannons.” She cast a meaningful look at Hoshi.

  Nanbu left to carry out the orders. Hoshi tried to guess how many people Imagawa still had left. The Russian airship was much bigger than the Bashō. He guessed it could carry at least fifty crewmembers, maybe even a hundred. Thirty samurai fought for their daimyo at its height.

  She whirled on Hoshi. “What do you know about that craft out there? Where’s it from?”

  Hoshi played dumb and shrugged. “If they’re shooting fireworks, maybe they’re from China.”

  Imagawa sneered and took a step toward Hoshi. “I’m guessing they’re Japanese and somehow the emperor’s men convinced you to sabotage this ship. If you failed, then their job was to shoot us down.”

  Hoshi sighed and put his hands behind his back. “I did come aboard to try to stop you. I have no love for the emperor, but I have no desire to see Russians overrun Japan because of your stupidity.”

  Aside from the distant, sputtering engines, silence ensued on the bridge. The enemy launched a rocket and the ship lurched and listed over to the side again. Hoshi reached out and grabbed the rail with one hand. With his other he caught Imagawa’s wrist. When the ship righted itself, she shook her hand free. Staccato popping accompanied a subliminal shudder as the snipers returned fire.

  “I’ve lost helm control,” called the man at the wheel.

  “They hit the rudder,” called the spotter. Imagawa sprinted across the gondola and grabbed a speaking tube. “Is there fire astern?”

  Hoshi strained to hear the response. “No fire, but we have a mess of broken cables.”

  A whistle sounded from another speaking tube. Imagawa opened it. “This is the commander.”

  “Sniper thinks he destroyed a rocket launcher. Nine pounder is loaded. We’re going to try.”

  “Fire!” called Imagawa.

  A faint boom preceded the ship tilting to the side again. Hoshi turned and peered out into the darkness, the lightweight cannonball missed its target.

  A bearded man appeared at the top of the gondola’s ladder. He wore a black jacket thrown over a nightshirt. He spouted gibberish that might be Russian. Was he the scientist Mendeleev? He locked eyes with Hoshi and blinked as though he’d seen a phantom. The Russian captive must have met all the samurai. He spoke again. This time Hoshi caught the word “Ipokash.” He must be asking where she was.

  Imagawa called to the spotter by the chart table. “Get Professor Mendeleev astern with the other prisoners. We may have to use them if we need to jettison ballast.”

  The spotter came forward, grabbed Mendeleev’s arm and led him back up the stairs.

  “You can’t be serious about dropping prisoners from the airship,” barked Hoshi.

  Imagawa stormed across the deck. “You know something about that ship!”

  “You already guessed it’s Japanese. Their ships were unarmed as far as I knew, but they equipped them for a mission last I saw.”

  “Them? Are there others? And just why would you have permission to see an imperial airship if such a thing existed?”

  “Because a guest of Katsu Kaishū invited me aboard.”

  “That traitor!” Imagawa spat on the deck. She looked up. “Did Lord Katsu put you up to this?”

  Hoshi shook his head. He hadn’t betrayed any secrets. Many people in Japan and Mexico had seen the airship and Lord Katsu was known to have been aboard, but Imagawa had been hiding out, away from any news sources.

  The Russian airship shuddered from the recoil as the nine-pounder fired again. The Japanese vessel made a slight turn. Did they feel they’d inflicted sufficient damage? Were they running? Had they learned what they wanted?

  “Why have you turned up?” Imagawa’s gaze bored into Hoshi. “No more evading my questions. You knew how to find my airship. The Russians found my airship.” She pointed a trembling finger at the window. “These imperialist pigs knew where to find my airship. I want to know how!”

  “Ipokash’s husband led me here. I would guess the Russians have been looking for their missing airship for some time.” He glanced out the window. “As for the imperialists…” He shook his head. “I have no idea. They seemed more interested in commerce than warfare. That’s all I’ll tell you. If you harm my friends, I will kill you myself.” Sparks flew from the imperialist airship—another rocket.

  “You may not have the chance,” sneered Imagawa.

  Hoshi and Imagawa each grabbed the rail. “Release more ballast, give us some altitude,” she called.

  Helpless, the elevatorman backed away from the controls. “Tanks are dry.”

  “Drop the bombs, do anything to get us up higher!”

  Hoshi shot a meaningful look toward her.

  “Have the passengers help.” Her voice held a bitter note.

  The rocket hit, ripping through the ship’s skin. A moment later, an explosion rocked the ship, sending Hoshi to the floor.

  “The hydrogen!” Imagawa rushed to the stern for a better view.

  “Negative,” said the spotter. “The rocket exploded after it passed through.”

  “We’re venting hydrogen,” called the elevatorman. “We’re losing altitude fast.”

  “The imperialists are moving off.”

  “Where are we?” called Imagawa.

  “Land ahead,” called the navigator. “Our course
was south by southwest before the turn. Must be Russia.”

  “Damn!” She looked around the gondola. “I guess the Russians are getting their airship back. Everyone brace for impact.” She pointed to the elevatorman. “Level off. Try to ease us down.”

  Hoshi stood and looked up the stairs, worried about his friends.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Power Struggles

  As the airship bounced and jostled, Ramon tried to get his bearings and learn something about the large bay. He barely remembered the bomb bay from the airship destroyed in the Battle of Denver, but the rough ride made him think a similar fate awaited this craft.

  Apodaca and Rodriguez sat nearby and studied the surroundings. The samurai guarding the doors wore guns. Before the airship began its tumultuous ride, they had discussed strategies for breaking out, convinced the guards didn’t understand Spanish. Then things started hitting the airship and they fell quiet and listened, trying to figure out what happened and how to react.

  Fatemeh knelt down and examined Shinriki’s wound. The fisherman leaned his head against his wife’s breast, a contented smile on his lips despite the situation. The fisherman’s cousin, Resak sat nearby, eyes darting between Fatemeh and Ipokash, eager to help but uncertain what to do. Fatemeh removed some herbs from her pouch and had Shinriki chew on them, then sat next to Ramon.

  “I’d like to put some cold water on that bump, but I think our options are a limited,” she said.

  Ramon nodded. Samurai escorted a bearded man wearing a jacket over a nightshirt into the hold. Ipokash waved. Unhindered by the guards, the bearded man approached.

  “Is that Dmitri Mendeleev?” Ramon hoped Legion listened.

  “It is.”

  “If you’re in both of our minds, can you make us understand each other?”

  Legion’s components whispered among themselves, as though they considered the idea. “It verges on the interference you discouraged me from.”

  “I know,” thought Ramon, “but this is an emergency. We need to coordinate our efforts.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Professor Mendeleev,” called Ramon. “What’s going on?”