The Brazen Shark

by David Lee Summers

Mendeleev shook his head. “What the hell are they thinking? They can’t make good speed without a skin and if the winds increase too much they’ll rip the interior bags wide open.”

  Ramon remembered how Professor Maravilla’s ornithopters had to seek a safe path inside the airships that attacked Denver. No such difficulty presented itself with this ship, but he knew the men aboard must recognize the vulnerability and be on guard as a consequence. Ramon stepped away from the group and glanced out a window. The airship passed over undulating, tree-covered plains. At least they had room to maneuver if needed. No mountain peaks stood nearby and the weather seemed calm with just a few clouds.

  He caught snippets of conversation from the bow. They discussed evading the skeleton airship—either turning wide or doing their best to shoot past it. Mendeleev noted the Japanese airship would be faster than even a finished Russian craft.

  “We should see if they have anything to say,” said Ramon.

  The others looked up at him.

  “What if they fire on us?” Captain Himura placed his hands behind his back.

  “Then have your men prepare to put on extra speed and evade.” Ramon shrugged. “We’re here to make peace. That airship is the first test. They sent it out here unfinished because they’re scared and have nothing else able to challenge us. If they talk, we’ll get off on the right foot.”

  “If they fire, we’ll know they want war,” said Itō.

  Ramon shook his head. “If they fire, they just confirm they’re scared. We get away from these folks and try to find more rational people at the palace right away.”

  “And if those at court aren’t rational?” asked the captain.

  “Then I suppose this mission is a lost cause after all.” Ramon stepped up to the captain. “Sir, I recommend you raise the white flag, or whatever you do to demonstrate surrender, as soon as possible.”

  The captain scowled, turned and lifted the spyglass to his eye. He watched the skeleton airship for a few minutes, then turned around and barked an order. Two men rushed from the bridge and ran toward the catwalk behind the gondola.

  As the ships approached one another, Ramon pondered the guns within the girders. He wondered if the ships they’d confronted in America had been so well armed. He remembered gun ports, but had there been so many? Dmitri Mendeleev’s wide-eyed expression made Ramon suspect the number of weapons surprised him as well. Or, perhaps something else caught his attention.

  Signal flags appeared outside the Russian ship’s gondola. The first mate turned around. “They’re ordering us to land.”

  The captain strolled back to the chart table. He moved a marker, which indicated the airship’s current position and took some measurements. He looked up. “Signal we’ll comply.” He pointed ahead. “We’ll drop to the ground by the Volkhov River, five miles ahead.”

  The first officer opened the speaking tube and issued the necessary orders. A few minutes later, more signal flags appeared. The captain scowled. “They’re ordering us to descend now.” He folded his arms. “I don’t like the trees below us.” He turned to the crew at the helium valves. “Take us down, but keep us moving forward. Let’s get as close to the river as we can and hope they can’t shoot downward.”

  “They have sharp shooters,” said Mendeleev after Itō whispered to him.

  “Rifles scare me less than cannon.” Captain Himura folded his arms.

  The Bonchō drifted downward, but continued forward. The Russian airship slowed and began a shuddering turn. By the time the Bonchō settled to the ground, they had reached the river valley just as the captain requested. Looking around, Ramon couldn’t see how the larger ship could have even come close to the ground before this. Then he remembered the stolen airship on Sakhalin Island, which stood tethered and swaying over the treetops.

  Captain Himura ordered tether lines deployed. The ship was secure when the skeletal Russian airship appeared overhead. It descended next to the Bonchō, but remained above it. Ladders descended from the superstructure and Russians climbed down, jumping over to the Japanese airship’s rigging.

  An even longer ladder unfurled from the gondola to the ground. Three men descended. Ramon swallowed as he watched the ladder tilt and sway in the breeze. When the men reached the ground, one held his hands up and a man in the gondola tossed down a speaking trumpet.

  The man who caught it lifted it to his mouth. “We control your ship. Come out and tell us what you want.”

  Ramon looked over to the captain and waited for his permission. Himura gave a brief nod, then Ramon opened the door. They were only two feet above the ground. He jumped out and Mendeleev followed.

  The Russian officer dropped the speaking trumpet.

  * * *

  The last person Major Andrei Zolnerowich expected to see aboard the Japanese airship was the missing scientist Dmitri Mendeleev. The major drew his sidearm and pointed it at the brown-skinned man with battered glasses. “You will turn over your hostage at once.”

  Mendeleev stepped forward, hands in the air. “I am no hostage. I am with the Japanese delegation of my own free will.”

  “And the man with you? He is not Japanese.”

  The man with the battered glasses pushed them further up his nose. “I am Ramon Morales, an American, acquainted with the being called Legion who wanted to unify the world. I have a unique perspective and I’m here to help.” The man called Morales used poor grammar and was hard to understand, but the reference to the creature called Legion caused an unexpected longing to well up within the major.

  Not long ago, Russians had a strength, unity, and purpose unlike any in history. For a time, they understood each other’s thoughts and the military could influence those they wanted to conquer, rather than firing weapons. Then Legion vanished and the empire began to collapse again.

  Zolnerowich lowered the pistol. He knew snipers overhead had Mendeleev and Morales in their sights. If the strangers rushed him, they would be gunned down. “What do you want?”

  “We wish to speak with the emperor,” said Ramon.

  “Pirates hijacked the Nicholas Alexandrovich,” added Mendeleev. “The Japanese wish to apologize for the attack on Vladivostok and will discuss reparations.”

  Zolnerowich pursed his lips and studied the Japanese airship—frail, even compared to the skeletal craft above him. A well placed shot could sever the undercarriage from the balloon. If the balloon carried hydrogen, one shot could obliterate the craft. “My brother served aboard the Nicholas Alexandrovich. Helmsman Zolnerowich. What happened to him?”

  Mendeleev’s brow creased, as though trying to remember the man in question. “I believe the samurai released him near Ozerskoye on Sakhalin Island.”

  Zolnerowich found the explanation convenient. They had no way to confirm the statement’s veracity in short order, but he saw no reason Mendeleev should lie to him, unless the scientist had turned traitor. The scientist and the czar were rumored to be acquaintances who corresponded. “I cannot allow you to fly your airship into St. Petersburg.”

  “You can take us to the city in your ship,” suggested Ramon.

  “I must leave soldiers here, aboard your vessel,” countered Zolnerowich.

  Ramon nodded. “May I propose this to the captain?”

  “Yes.” Zolnerowich gestured toward the ship with the pistol. “If you try to ascend, we’ll shoot you from the sky.”

  Ramon swallowed. Perhaps the American understood how tempting it would be to destroy the Japanese vessel and be done with it. The major allowed a thin smile to appear, enjoying the power he held. If he played his cards right, perhaps this assignment could land him a promotion.

  “Understood.” Ramon disappeared into the craft.

  Mendeleev put his hands behind his back and studied the Russian vessel. “It’s dangerous to fly an airship without its skin. It’s not streamlined. Air gusts can catch it and blow it around.”

  The mini-lecture prickled Zolnerowich. “I’m well aware of that, sir. This is an
emergency mission.”

  A moment later, an air pump whirred to life and the Japanese airship dropped a foot lower. Zolnerowich lifted his pistol again. Ramon appeared at the door and stepped out. A strange cylindrical device on continuous track treads followed him and rolled off the edge, dropping to the ground with a thud. The device almost resembled a man with two arm-like cylinders ending in claws and two eyes painted above a bolt-head nose and grillwork smile.

  Ramon spoke to Mendeleev in hushed tones, then pointed to the ladder leading into the Russian ship. Mendeleev shook his head, then opened the mechanical man’s front compartment. He flipped switches and turned dials. At one point he looked up, rubbed his long white beard, and muttered to himself.

  While the scientist worked, Ramon approached the major. “Our delegation is almost ready.”

  As he spoke, a Japanese man appeared at the door and stepped to the ground.

  “What is that machine?” asked Zolnerowich.

  “A loyal companion, but he requires periodic maintenance.” Morales turned and presented Itō Hirobumi, the emperor’s special representative. “He represents Japan and will accompany you along with Mendeleev.”

  Itō shot a questioning glance at Morales, which Zolnerowich found odd. Morales spoke to the ambassador in Japanese. Itō lifted an eyebrow but nodded.

  Zolnerowich believed something strange transpired, but Americans and Japanese had such mysterious ways, he couldn’t be certain. The major crouched down and grabbed the speaking trumpet. He shouted orders up to the ship. Soon, hatchways opened and ropes descended. Two squads climbed down and took up positions around the Japanese airship. Even though Legion no longer controlled them, they displayed discipline and coordination, making the major proud.

  Zolnerowich summoned the sergeant of the guard and gave him orders, then ordered Mendeleev and Itō into the Alexander Alexandrovich. Zolnerowich holstered his pistol and followed. Once they reached the gondola, he gave orders to return to the city. As the airship ascended, it began to pirouette on its axis. The major wore a smug grin as he noted Itō’s admiration.

  Rifles popped below.

  Zolnerowich ran to the window and looked out.

  The mechanical man zoomed away from the Japanese airship. Several Russian soldiers dropped to their knees, rifles raised, but the mechanical man soon outdistanced their range. He thought a figure stood atop the platform between the mechanical man’s treads, hugged close to its barrel-shaped body. Was it Morales?

  He whirled on Mendeleev and Itō. “What is that abomination doing?”

  The Japanese ambassador’s mouth dropped open and he shrugged.

  “It would seem the mechanical man had an errand to run,” said Mendeleev. “I think automata will prove quite handy in the future.”

  * * *

  Hoshi found Imagawa on the Ballena’s afterdeck practicing sword strikes with a wooden practice blade.

  For a moment he envisioned her as a youth, ponytail down her back, wearing a flowered kimono and obi, face set, strong as any boy. Hoshi drew his sword and fell into step beside Imagawa, lifting the sword high, then stepping forward and bringing the sword down in a single fluid motion. They practiced ten strokes together, then Imagawa turned, sword held ready to thrust. Hoshi turned, stepped backwards and brought his sword into a defensive position.

  Imagawa smiled, stood straight, and bowed. Hoshi followed suit. “What do you think of my form, Sensei?”

  Hoshi folded his arms and evaluated her as he did when they were both younger. “You have much improved, but you are stubborn and that will be your undoing.”

  “You once told me my stubbornness was my strength.” She turned and faced the ocean, watching the white water roll away behind the ship.

  “I am no fortune teller. I had no way to know the world would change so much.” He turned and faced the sea as well, hands behind his back. “I hear the police no longer allow swords to be worn on the streets. No such prohibition exists in the United States.”

  “You’re the one who taught me the sword is just an ideal. Practice with it hones our focus, but its effectiveness is limited against a man in armor.” She snorted. “I lost my armor when The Brazen Shark crashed.”

  “Armor is readily forged, though it has limitations in the world of guns.” He sighed. “There are many guns in the American west.”

  “Are you asking me to come to America with you?”

  Hoshi considered the question. He hadn’t intended to ask, but he wondered what she would say if he welcomed her. It would be nice to have a companion from his homeland, though he suspected she would be difficult to live with in other ways. “You would have a place to stay.” Not an outright invitation, just a suggestion to see how she responded.

  “I face prison time, or even execution when I return.” She spoke without strain, just stating facts.

  “I do not intend to leave this vessel when we dock in Tokyo.” Hoshi questioned his motives for avoiding Tokyo. Was he afraid? He tried to brush the thought aside, but found it difficult. Imagawa saved him from the effort by responding.

  “Tell me of the Americans, Sensei.” Her voice assumed a childlike quality, as though she requested a bedtime story.

  “They are an independent lot. Even the poorest peasants possess an emperor’s pride. Many own land, like small daimyos. Because they are small, they must learn to defend it themselves like samurai.”

  “Daimyo, samurai, and peasant all in one package,” she mused. “I am told Americans have no discipline. Many are drunken louts who pick fights for no reason.”

  Hoshi considered the rumor. “There are terrible and reckless people, but such people exist in Japan as well. Also, there are people such as the Apache, who are brave and disciplined warriors. I fear those who came from Europe have forced them onto small plots of land and they may die out.”

  “They sound like the Ainu—proud and brave, but endangered.” She turned and faced Hoshi. “This is how I see women in the Meiji era. Unless we are suited to be a wife, mother or servant, we are useless.”

  “In America, women fight to be heard. Some, like Fatemeh, are healers. Some teach. There’s an astronomer in Massachusetts named Maria Mitchell who discovered a comet. I even know a woman who has become a federal marshal.”

  Imagawa turned back toward the sea. “That is all well and good and Mrs. Morales has given me some things to consider.” She leaned on the ship’s rail and she grew wistful. “This Fatemeh is a mystery to me. She talks of fighting for things she believes in, but yet grows angry when a villain dies. If you see a mosquito, you slap it. If you see a dangerous spider, you step on it.”

  Hoshi nodded. “Where you saw a man reduced to a mosquito, Fatemeh still saw a man.” He dared to reach out and take her hand. “I fought to stop you, but couldn’t kill you because I still saw a woman, not an insect.”

  “I wanted to die because I failed.” She squeezed Hoshi’s hand. “She saved me because she believes one can reinvent oneself.” She let go and stood straight again. Hoshi couldn’t quite read her expression. It held neither regret nor hope.

  “The Tokugawa regime made us what we are,” mused Hoshi. “We believed a person’s honor and class determined their value. In the new regime, there is potential for all humans to be equal and find their place based on their abilities.”

  “I’m not sure if I believe all humans are equal, even now.” Imagawa folded her arms and Hoshi feared she might close mental barriers against him.

  “I’m not sure if I do, either,” admitted Hoshi, “but a mere girl once rose through training and perseverance to become a strong warrior. In this new era, everyone has such potential, not just a warrior’s daughter.”

  Imagawa lifted her chin. “I tried to kindle a war so a shogun would rule Japan because I think imperialists have no honor. I now welcome an audience with the emperor. I will learn whether or not there is a place in this new regime for me.”

  “If you came to America, you could make a place for yourself,
without having to rely on the emperor’s verdict.”

  “If I understand your lesson, fighting injustice is honorable in this era as in the past, but all have potential in the new era. This includes women, peasants, even the Ainu. If I leave Japan, who will fight for the women? Who will fight for the Ainu?”

  “If you are executed, the questions remain unanswered.” His voice caught on the words.

  “If your lesson is true, I will not be executed,” she countered. “If your lesson is false, then it doesn’t matter, for my original conjecture is correct. There is no place for me in this world.” With that, she turned and walked away. Hoshi watched her, at once proud and angry. He wished he possessed her brave heart.

  Chapter Twenty

  Guerilla Diplomacy

  A knock interrupted Fatemeh mid-poem. Annoyed, she placed her finger in the book she read and looked up. “Come in,” she said.

  Hoshi entered and bowed. Fatemeh used a ribbon to mark her place, then held her hand out to the room’s other chair. “What can I do for you?”

  Hoshi sat and folded his hands. “I am concerned about Imagawa. I believe you could advise her how a woman can lead a constructive life in the modern world.”

  Fatemeh set the book aside and frowned. “Why did you help her murder Nanbu?”

  Hoshi’s brow furrowed. “A duel for honor is not murder.”

  “A duel need not be fought to the death.” Fatemeh leaned forward. “You showed that when you dueled her. Did he deserve to die? How many other deaths did she cause when she bombed Sapporo and when she captured the Russian airship? Do we have any idea?”

  “Many samurai become obsessed with death.”

  “Not just samurai,” mused Fatemeh. “No one leaves this life alive, but we all have something to contribute. Killing is evil because we have placed our goals ahead of all other human goals.”

  “You prevented her from committing seppuku. You must feel her life has value.”

  Fatemeh sat back and nodded. “I did, but I fear she has become so obsessed with death, she can see no other path.” Her gut twinged, but she proceeded anyway. “I’m not sure I see her value in this new world.”