The Brazen Shark

by David Lee Summers

  The Russian scientist’s eyes widened at whatever he heard. He spoke Russian, but Ramon understood him nonetheless. “The guard tells me we’ve been attacked. It seems we’re descending rapidly.”

  “Over water or land? Do you know where we are?”

  “I don’t know.” Mendeleev shook his shaggy head. “I got a look at the compass though. From the heading, I have a pretty good idea we’ll land on the Russian mainland, somewhere north of Vladivostok.”

  “Legion, does Mendeleev have enough information to relay to Cisneros? If the captain could get close, I could light a signal fire.”

  “Or, as this is an emergency, I can act as a homing beacon for him.”

  Mendeleev narrowed his gaze. “You speak to Legion, too?”

  Could Mendeleev hear Ramon’s unspoken conversation? Legion answered Ramon’s silent query. “In this proximity, yes, Mendeleev can hear your conversation with me.”

  Ramon nodded, then stumble-stepped across the bucking floor to the scientist. “You asked Legion for help. We’re the ones he sent.”

  “It took you long enough to get here.” The statement stung, but Ramon sensed Mendeleev intended no rebuff.

  A voice called out in Japanese.

  “Brace for impact.” Ipokash translated the words. Ramon noticed he could understand her just the same as Mendeleev. Having Legion as a friend could prove useful for a diplomat.

  “Your best chance of surviving the impending crash is to open the doors and jump when you approach the ground,” said Legion.

  Ramon and Mendeleev looked at each other and nodded. Mendeleev pointed out two winches, one on either side of the floor’s large hatch. Mendeleev ran for one, Ramon the other. A samurai guard shouted at them, but refused to release the support pillar he gripped with white knuckles.

  Mendeleev nodded to Ramon and the two men cranked. As they did, wind whooshed in through the open hatch. The ground below flew past in a gray blur lit by morning twilight. The ship bucked again and Ramon’s grip on the winch slipped, smacking his hand. He yelped in pain, and Fatemeh ran over to join him. She took up where he left off.

  “Gather anything we can. We’ll have to jump for it soon,” said Ramon.

  Apodaca and Rodriguez donned their packs which the samurai had searched and returned. Ipokash, Shinriki, and Resak blinked at Ramon. Although Mendeleev understood him, they did not. Mendeleev realized the problem and called out. They exchanged a few words and the scientist barked out a laugh. “She doesn’t think these gentlemen will let us return to our cabins for supplies.”

  “I think she’s right,” said Ramon, “but have her tell them to get ready to jump.”

  “We’re saving them, too?”

  “Do we have a reason to let them die?” countered Ramon.

  “It’s far from certain they will.” Despite that, Mendeleev relayed the request to Ipokash who in turn shouted to the warriors. They looked at each other with uncertainty, then reached a decision and nodded. Soon, all the bay’s occupants gathered around the open hatch and waited.

  As the light increased outside, trees became clear. They moved slower than Ramon first thought, but he still didn’t want to jump. He reached out, pulled Fatemeh close, and gave her a long kiss. She melted into him.

  “By my calculations, this is the optimal time to escape,” said Legion.

  Ramon clung to Fatemeh longer than he should, but finally broke the embrace and looked over the edge, gritting his teeth. They now traveled ten to twenty feet over a grassy field. They still moved faster than Ramon liked. Across the way, Mendeleev pointed, then went over. Fatemeh swallowed, gave Ramon a quick kiss, then jumped. Apodaca pushed Rodriguez, then followed. Shinriki looked unstable, and Ramon wondered how he would do with the jump, but he could not help. While he considered this, the two samurai warriors also jumped.

  Ramon swallowed and willed himself to drop over the edge. The turf came up and smacked him in the face and he rolled several times.

  He struggled to find breath, but a fierce crash caused him to sit up and suck in air along with a salty, coppery tang. The airship drifted onward and the gondola struck the ground. Several people jumped out the door before the wind caught the airship and hefted the tail high in the air. A moment later, it crashed down on its back. The wind pushed it further along the ground until it hit the tree line, where the fabric fluttered and flapped like a discarded circus tent.

  Ramon struggled to stand and looked around in a blur. He searched for his glasses before his vision cleared and he realized he still wore them. “Fatemeh!” he called.

  “Over here!”

  He looked around the unfamiliar terrain until she stood and waved.

  He ran toward her, but six steps later his legs gave out and he dropped to his knees. Fatemeh ran up to him, “How in the world did your glasses stay on your face?”

  He took them off. The first thing he noticed was blood splattered on the lens. Then he realized the impact flattened the nosepieces. It would take some work for them to be serviceable again. A rip sounded and Fatemeh produced cloth from somewhere. Had she ripped it from her blouse? She poured liquid on the cloth and dabbed at his numb face. Pain awoke and he cried out.

  “You’re okay, I think you just cut your lip,” she said.

  He nodded. “We need to find the others and some fresh water.”

  Mendeleev limped up. He’d ripped his jacket and lost a slipper. “We should go to the airship. See if there are any supplies we can scavenge.”

  “Do you know where we are?” asked Ramon.

  Mendeleev shook his head. “Not precisely.” He pointed over his shoulder. “The ocean’s that way. If your help travels by sea, that’s the direction they’ll come from. Given the terrain, I don’t think we can be more than five or ten miles from the coast.”

  Ramon nodded and Fatemeh helped him to his feet.

  They stood up and came across two people together on the ground. Shinriki lay curled in a broken heap. Ipokash hovered over him. Fatemeh knelt down and opened one of his eyes. “He’s in shock,” she said. “Try to keep him warm.”

  Resak ran up. Fatemeh looked him up and down, then mimed drinking from a bottle. Resak blinked as if stunned, then took off his water skin and handed it over. She lifted Shinriki’s head to see if he would drink. He sipped a little water. Fatemeh handed the water to Ramon next. He was tempted to swish the water around in his mouth and spit it out, but he swallowed it instead, glad to feel no broken teeth go down his throat.

  Apodaca and Rodriguez joined them. Rodriguez sported several scrapes and cuts. Apodaca had weathered the fall better, though his pack had a big rip in it.

  “Something’s happening near the airship.” Apodaca pointed.

  Ramon heard shouts in Japanese. A moment later, steel clanged. Ramon looked over at Fatemeh, and they ran toward the sound. Someone else called out and steel clashed a second time.

  Hoshi and Imagawa faced each other, swords drawn. Hoshi shouted and thrust, knocking Imagawa’s sword from her hand. She reached for a dagger at her belt, but Hoshi allowed the follow-through from his strike to carry him full circle. He kicked her in the ribs, sending her sprawling on the ground. He pressed the sword to her side.

  She sneered and spoke clear and calm. Ramon thought he caught the word seppuku. Hoshi grunted and nodded, then backed up, pointing his sword at Imagawa.

  “What’s going on here?” called Fatemeh.

  “I challenged Imagawa to a duel. I said she had no right to call herself samurai if she resorted to piracy. She accepted and lost. She will now commit seppuku rather than suffer the shame of defeat. I have granted this wish to honor our shared history.”

  As Hoshi spoke, Imagawa struggled to her knees. She withdrew her tanto and held it high.

  Fatemeh lunged and grabbed the knife’s hilt. “You will not do this!”

  Ramon looked up at Hoshi. “You would let her commit suicide, when you believed it to be a foolish choice.”

  “It was not the right
choice for me,” said Hoshi.

  “It’s not the right choice for anyone.” Fatemeh wrenched the knife from Imagawa and tossed it far away. Imagawa looked up, teeth barred and hissed angry words at Fatemeh.

  Hoshi shook his head. “She says not to interfere.”

  “I know what she said.” Fatemeh looked into Imagawa’s eyes. “I don’t like how women are treated in Japan. I don’t like how they’re treated in America. Their treatment in Persia is even worse.” She struggled to find words in Japanese but Imagawa blinked, not comprehending. She turned to Hoshi. “Translate it.”

  Hoshi turned his back.

  Fatemeh worked through her anger and hurt to try again. The warrior gazed into Fatemeh’s eyes. She remained silent for a long moment. At last she responded in subdued tones.

  Fatemeh nodded and spoke words which caused Hoshi to sigh. He turned around. “Allow me to translate.”

  “Japan may not be perfect,” said Fatemeh. “Under the Tokagawa regime, there were strict classes: peasant, samurai, daimyo. The Meiji regime has problems, but blurred social lines mean life is less regimented. People can make their own dreams. Be such a person. If you don’t like the roles women assume, make your own role and demand people follow it. You can’t return to the old ways, even if you start this war.”

  Hoshi translated and Imagawa’s expression softened a little. Fatemeh released her wrists and Imagawa let them drop to the ground. She spoke.

  “She thinks she’s done with airships for now,” said Hoshi.

  Imagawa looked up and sighed. She spoke to Hoshi, then looked at Fatemeh whose eyes shone with unshed tears.

  “She says she made her statement against the Meiji regime and you’re too late. It doesn’t matter whether she lives or dies. She will fight no longer. Lead where you will.”

  Hoshi stood, walked some distance away and hung his head. Fatemeh remained next to Imagawa and Ramon walked over to Hoshi. “What’s the matter?”

  The samurai-farmer shook his head. “This is what I didn’t want to see, a broken Imagawa surrendering to fate. Letting her commit suicide would have broken my heart. I fear this has broken my soul.”

  * * *

  As the morning wore on, The Brazen Shark’s survivors gathered near the wreckage. Fatemeh liked Imagawa’s name for the airship, which suited the craft’s sleek lines and power before the crash. The name Nicholas Alexandrovich made her imagine an overblown portion of male anatomy.

  Admittedly, she had come to enjoy that portion of the male anatomy when utilized by Ramon, but didn’t think an airship deserved to be named after it.

  Twenty people survived The Brazen Shark’s crash. Of those, seven had invaded the ship with Fatemeh. Mendeleev and Ipokash made it out along with a Russian mechanic who held on through the airship’s wild slow-motion summersault. That left ten from Imagawa’s crew. Two samurai had been left behind. Hoshi killed two more. The rest had fallen from the ship or tumbled within and died.

  Fatemeh treated the wounded throughout the morning. As supplies ran low in the small pouch she wore at her hip, Apodaca ran up with a black medical bag he found in the wreckage.

  Treating the wounded allowed her to hear their stories, though she didn’t understand them all. They told their stories in at least five languages, but, people translated. She learned a Japanese ship had attacked The Brazen Shark. Hoshi guessed after the Bashō left him in Tokyo, it must have departed on a hunting expedition with its sister ship. One of the Japanese ships found its quarry and brought it down.

  Fatemeh found Ramon straightening his glasses with plyers salvaged from the wreckage. When he finished, they still sat crooked on his face, but they were more stable. “Did we accomplish too little too late?” she asked.

  “Why do you ask, corazón?”

  She shook her head. “It seems Imagawa accomplished what she set out to do and the Japanese stopped them. Did we accomplish anything?”

  Ramon put his arm around her. “Would the Japanese airship have been in the area if we hadn’t made contact with Lord Ōkubo? Would Mendeleev and Ipokash have survived the wreck? What would Imagawa have done next? It’s impossible to know these things, corazón, but I think we helped make the situation better.”

  Fatemeh looked over at Imagawa, sitting by herself. She looked old and frail—exposed in her kimono and hakama. She helped the samurai, but her spirit held no fire. She needed time to heal and Fatemeh hoped she could help.

  After a lunch of dried fish, the survivors examined the gear. Discussions ensued about what to do. Imagawa’s lieutenant, Nanbu, suggested they travel east to China, then south to Korea where they might find safe refuge. “We should go to the coast,” ventured Ramon. “We can find help there.” Fatemeh noticed he avoided specifying where the help would come from.

  Hoshi translated for the samurai. Nanbu stabbed his finger at Hoshi, and Fatemeh feared another duel would break out. Hoshi made a suggestion which placated the warrior.

  “He accused us of leading them into an imperialist trap,” said Hoshi. “I reminded him we’re not imperialists and, in fact, imperialists shot us down. I told him help would arrive soon and they stood their best chance with the imperial government if they returned voluntarily.” He cast a glance to Ramon. “You’ve told me the coast is no more than ten miles to the east. For your sake, I hope you’re right.”

  “Why won’t they just leave and go their own way?” asked Fatemeh.

  Hoshi pursed his lips. “Because we need each other and they know it. They need your skills as a healer. We need their fighting ability if we should encounter Russian forces and want to avoid a protracted stay in prison.”

  Fatemeh nodded understanding.

  That afternoon they packed what they could carry and hiked due east. During the walk, they encountered no villages or people. Fatemeh wondered how long it would be before the Russians discovered the airship’s wreckage. She tried to remember her geography. If she remembered right, Vladivostok occupied this Russian province’s southern tip. Where were the roads? Further inland perhaps.

  She fell back to speak with Imagawa as they walked. “How do you feel today?”

  Imagawa remained silent for so long, Fatemeh thought she wouldn’t answer. “Confused,” Imagawa admitted at last. “I feel I accomplished what I set out to do. I lost my battle with Hoshi. Why are you not content to let me die?”

  “Because your death would be a waste.”

  Imagawa looked at her. “My life as it stands will be a waste. I have no power unless I marry.”

  “Will they take all your money?”

  Imagawa laughed. “What money? The imperialists refuse to pay my stipend. I have some money saved, but it won’t last long… presuming the government hasn’t seized it already.”

  “There are ways to turn a little money into a fortune,” suggested Fatemeh. “People may not listen to a poor woman, but they will listen to a rich one who funds industrial growth.”

  “Even if I could fund such growth, I have little desire to waste my life manipulating money.”

  Fatemeh smiled. “Neither do I. I used what little money I had to travel.”

  “I have no desire to flee Japan like Hoshi, either.” She frowned. “If I return to Japan, I will be jailed, perhaps killed.”

  This time Fatemeh turned silent for a while, as she considered how much to say. After a moment she met Imagawa’s gaze. “Back in America, Ramon and I tried to stop the Russians. However, we violated our government’s trust. When we go home, we face a prison term.” Fatemeh reached out and put her hand on Imagawa’s shoulder. The warrior flinched. “Once that term is complete, we will move forward together. The threat of punishment does not deter our dreams. The point is, there are many possibilities open to you, if you open your mind.”

  Imagawa scowled but nodded. “I shall consider your words.”

  Fatemeh returned to Ramon and walked beside him. As she did, Imagawa’s gaze fell across her back.

  After a three mile hike, they came to a v
ast flood plain. The river hugged the lowest point, just to the north. If not for the mountain valley’s remote location, Fatemeh thought this could be good farm country. They followed the floodplain for three more miles until they reached the Sea of Japan. The survivors made camp and ate more dried fish. The samurai pulled out a sake bottle they’d scavenged from the wreckage and passed it around until empty. Imagawa made her own lean-to, well away from the others.

  In their own lean-to, Ramon and Fatemeh held each other through the night. “According to Legion, Captain Cisneros should be on the beach in the morning.”

  “Legion, Legion… I wish I never heard the name Legion,” grumbled Fatemeh.

  “He’s been quite helpful.”

  “He also got us into this whole mess. I wonder what the world would have been like if he hadn’t involved himself.” Soon after she uttered the thought, fatigue caught up with her and she drifted off to sleep.

  She awoke to squawking seagulls. The birds reminded her of San Francisco and she shuddered. She remembered bullets firing and blood splattering as Luther Duncan collapsed on a pier. Back in New Mexico, Luther spent thirty days in jail, just for helping her. She faced the same fate. She put her arms around Ramon and squeezed him, glad for this start to their marriage. Aside from facing death on an airship, it had been quite pleasant.

  She sat up and recognized the Calamar bobbing in the waves. A hatch opened and Captain Cisneros emerged and waved. She climbed out from among the blankets, threw on a coat and waved back.

  All around, in the camp, the samurai warriors groaned from their night of revelry, but most milled around and packed their belongings, preparing for whatever awaited them.

  Ramon emerged from the bedroll and joined Fatemeh. Hand-in-hand, they strolled to the beach. Apodaca and Rodriguez joined them. Captain Cisneros disappeared into the Calamar. A few minutes later, the submersible rose from the water and rolled onto the shore. Startled cries rang out and the samurai gathered around to see the strange craft.

  Cisneros opened the hatch and considered all those assembled. He climbed down the ladder and shook Ramon’s hand. “I only have room for five.”