by James Hunt
Even if the Chinese had started rebuilding the day after the treaties were signed, it still wouldn’t have given them enough time to do what the map suggested. And the resources involved in designing iron ships were massive. Which meant the Chinese had help.
Canice made her way up the stairs and joined Lance at the map. She traced her fingertips over the weathered parchment and shook her head. “I’ve got the wounded ready for transport once we dock. Once they’re clear, I’ll have the rest of the crew start reloading provisions.”
“We’ll have to negotiate with the Aussies on what they can spare in terms of ammo. Trade the cattle if you have to.” Lance looked to the horizon, where he felt the churn of the warships closing in on them. He smelled the lead and salt water, and the blood that inevitably followed. He smacked the wheel and cursed. “I told my brother we needed to keep a closer eye on them.” Lance never understood or had time for diplomacy; those were Dean’s affairs, and the primary reason he turned down the governorship of the northwest.
“You need to contact Jason,” Canice said. “If this is as bad as we think, then he could be in trouble. It’s no secret the Chinese have huddled close with Brazil ever since the treaties were signed after the Island Wars.”
Lance shook his head. “It’ll take at least a week for the fleet to gather, and that’s if Jason is still in the southwest.” While the Australians had a navy of their own, Lance knew their military had softened during the peace after the Island Wars.
“You know what trading the cattle will do back home?” Canice kept her voice low. “We lose that now, and there’s no guarantee when the Australians will be able to deliver again if the Chinese decide to attack.”
“The cattle won’t matter if the Chinese decide to turn their sights on us. Those were warships, Canice. We don’t have a lot of options right now.” The two could argue until they were blue in the face, but it was one of the reasons Lance worked with her. He needed someone to challenge him, let him know when he was wrong. But despite her protest, he knew he was right this time.
Once on the docks, Lance ran his hand across the exposed hull of the ship where the crew was busy repairing some of the damage. He felt the rough metal, the dents and grooves a life at sea had given her. Each of those blemishes was hard earned, and behind them memories of what was possible.
“Captain Mars?” The voice came from a small messenger boy clustered between the growing crowds at the docks. The boy wiggled his way through and extended a piece of parchment. “The message read Urgent, so I came as soon as I saw your ship in the bay.”
The seal on the paper was Dean’s, and Lance took it warily, the boy waiting for his reply. He scanned the words, the news of Fred, and Jason’s trip to Brazil. He reread the line of Fred’s death a half dozen times before it finally sank in. He crunched the paper up, his heart rate jacked.
“Captain Mars?” The messenger boy’s voice had a hint of fear. “Do you have a reply?”
Lance slammed his fist into the side of the ship, the powerful blow offering nothing more than a dull thud against the thick steel. The hit caused two of his knuckles to bloody. He uncurled his fist and unrumpled the paper inside. When he turned, the boy jolted backward. “Take me to the communication post.”
The boy nodded with his mouth hanging loosely and quickly turned on his heel, maneuvering through the crowded docks, where Lance ran into Danny. The Aussie’s eyes were weary, and his shoulders sagged. The loss of so many of his men knocked the wind out of him. Lance grabbed his arm and pulled him along. “You need to get the military officials together now and start making preparations. The Chinese may have turned back, but you can bet they’ve already started maneuvering their main fleet. Now that they don’t have the element of surprise, they’ll be looking to strike quickly. We need to be ready.”
Danny stopped, dragging Lance with him. “Lance, most of our fleet is escorting a shipment of supplies from the Chilean coast. We won’t be able to withstand an attack if the Chinese come.”
Lance looked dumbfounded. “Why would you have your fleet escorting merchant ships?”
“We’ve been having a lot of raids happen in the southern Pacific routes. Pirates, marauders. We were losing too much cargo. President Ruiz suggested an armed escort to ensure the deliveries arrived without incident.”
The dots started to connect. “Ruiz suggested it?” The Brazilians had wealth and the best engineers in the world living within their borders. If the Brazilians shared any of their technology in helping build the Chinese ships, then they could be in over their heads. And that meant Jason was in the heart of the lion’s den.
***
The dozens of piles of scrolls stacked around Delun Ren’s desk looked as though they had imprisoned him in paper. Candlelight flickered inside the flapping walls of the tent where Delun sat hunched over a new parchment, writing. He dipped his pen in the black ink and carefully scratched the tip of the pen against the paper until he reached the end of the page, completing his journal for the day.
Delun set the parchment aside, letting the ink dry, and stroked the thin wisps of a beard that sprouted from his chin. His jet-black hair was streaked with grey, offering the only signs of his age. His skin was tanned and still tight across his face, showing no wrinkles or blemishes.
The front side of Delun’s tent flapped open, and his chamber’s silence was broken briefly from the noise of the men in camp. The soldier who entered removed his helmet and bent to his knee, where he waited for Delun to speak. “What news do you bring, Hong?”
Hong had the same taut face as Delun’s, but more broad and flat, with nothing but a small point that was his nose jutting from his face. The man was short but built like an ox, with the tenacity of a bull. Delun had seen the sword master take on a dozen men at a time and win. “My Emperor, we have received word from our fleet south of the Dead Island. Three ships located the fleet; we managed to sink one of them.”
The news wasn’t unexpected. With their assets growing, it was simply a matter of time before they were found out, and with Delun’s fleet finally finished, he wasn’t worried. “The other ships, do we know where they were from?”
“One flew the colors of the Australian Navy, the second was North American.”
“So, the old alliances are still alive.” Delun walked to one of the piles of scrolls and picked one from the top. He unrolled it, reading the marks and symbols of his people’s language. There had only been a handful of scribes left in all of China after the Island Wars. Delun had the privilege of learning from one of them as a child, and so began his thirst for knowledge.
Books and scrolls were of little concern to most people, who were more interested in putting a bowl of food in their bellies every day than worrying about what some piece of paper written by a man long dead hundreds of years ago said.
Delun knew that most books had been lost in the Great War that happened a generation before he was even born, but throughout the years, he’d collected as many books as he could get his hands on. Anywhere he traveled, if he found something that could be read, no matter what it was, he took it. And now, with the power of his people behind him and with the aid of his army and navy, he’d begun the process of offering those works to the people. He didn’t just want to build an empire; he wanted to educate his people, have them learn the value of knowledge, as he did. This was to be the dawn of a new era. But first, there was the matter of war. “Send a message to the American governors. Tell them we wish for no conflict between our two countries.”
“The Russians will be making their move soon,” Hong said.
“Exactly. All we have to do is play coy with the Americans until they realize it’s too late. No doubt the ship’s captain has already sent word to his people, and with one of the American governors in Brazil, they will be too slow to react. The only fallout we have to worry about is with the Australians.” Who Delun knew lacked their full naval strength. Delun would storm the southern islands and retake what should have bel
onged to the Chinese a decade ago.
“Emperor,” Hong began, struggling to find the words, “there is more news that we received.”
It went against Hong’s nature to be timid, and the fact that the seasoned warrior was apprehensive was concerning. “Tell me.”
“The officer camp at the island where our men were stationed was raided, no doubt scouting to try and obtain information. During the raid, the enemy managed to steal one of our strategic maps.” Hong kept his head bowed the entire story, afraid of looking his emperor in the eye to tell him such news.
Delun kept his immediate thoughts to himself for a moment, shielding Hong from his emotions. Everything Delun experienced, all of his decisions and choices, they trickled down to his people, and he refused to let fear and doubt seep into the roots that held him in power. “How long have they been in possession of the map?”
“Less than a day,” Hong answered, still keeping his eyes on the floor. “The admirals sent word the moment it was taken.”
Still not enough time for the news to reach the American governors. “Contact Rodion, inform him about the Americans’ newfound knowledge, and tell our admirals our home fleet will rendezvous with them at the blade’s edge. The time for war is upon us.”
“As you will, Emperor.” Hong gave another deep bow and swiftly left.
Deceit was only effective as long as the reach of your arms. Once that façade had been lifted, your world was susceptible to the follies of those who did not share the same vision. However, Delun had long outgrown the deception that he offered to the west: years of dodging and darting the inspections and trade restrictions the Australians and Americans had set upon them, establishing new alliances, and rebuilding the infrastructure for his people after the devastating loss in the Island Wars that had crippled his nation so much.
It was a foolish endeavor of his predecessors all those years ago to try and take the southern islands and then challenge the west. They spread themselves too thin, unprepared for the family of war that had sprouted from the Americas. The Mars family. He’d studied and learned as much as he could about them. Even now, he knew they would be the final test of his military’s strength and his own diplomatic efforts once the war was over.
Delun walked over to a particular set of books, sealed inside a glass case. He opened the door gently, selecting the very first book in the row, handling the tome like it was a child. The cover had completely worn off, leaving nothing but faded blotches of where the lettering and illustration used to lie, and the pages were brittle and warped. He opened the book and gently ran his fingers over the title, which was barely visible in the faded letters. Sun Tzu: The Art of War.
It was this that would give Delun and his commanders their victory. Everything he learned within this book had allowed him to build the empire he firmly grasped. He’d built it through deception and treachery, and as such had laid traps for his enemies. All warfare is based on deception. And now it was time for the offensive.
Chapter 7
The only sound Jason heard deep within the cabin of the ship was the light lap of the waves against the hull. He lay there, soaked with sweat in his bed, the girl from the night before naked next to him, still asleep. He scooted close and ran his finger along her shoulder, moving down her side where it curved over her hip.
Her skin was tanned and soft, and despite the heat and sweat, she still smelled of flowers and salt water. Her face was covered by long strands of thick, wavy black hair that refused to be tamed by hand or brush. Jason remembered the way it moved as she spun around on the dance floor, blocking the smile that curved up her lips and shone in her eyes.
Jason slowly sat up, the heavy bed of straw shifting underneath his weight. He looked back at her, and she stirred but only enough to move to her back, her hair falling from her face. He ran his hand along her cheekbone. Her eyes opened, and she gave him the same smile from the night before. “Good morning.” Her native speech rolled off of her tongue just as warm as her skin pressed up against him.
“Morning.” Jason felt the warmth emanating from her. It wasn’t the hot, uncomfortable heat of the climate around him. It was… different.
Footsteps quickly thudded down the steps to Jason’s room, and Chris smiled at the foot of the stairs as the girl pulled her dress from behind her on the floor to cover herself. “No need for that, darling. I was rather enjoying the view.”
“What is it?”
“Some of Ruiz’s men are here to see you.” Chris’s tone changed from playful to stern. “They wouldn’t tell me what they want.”
Jason stepped through the legs of his pants and tied the lacing. “Armed?” He pulled his shirt over his head. It was still dirty from the night before but held the faintest hint of flowers.
“Yes, but there’s only two of them,” Chris answered. “I suppose if they wanted to kidnap us, they could send an entire unit. Still, it doesn’t mean they don’t have more waiting the moment you’re away from the ship.”
“I was scheduled to meet with Ruiz this afternoon. He could just want to meet with me now.” Jason buckled the belt holding his pistols and grabbed the dagger off the chest next to his bed.
“I can see you’re preparing for diplomacy.” Chris gave the weapons a once-over.
“I’ll be up in a minute.” Chris took the hint and tried to sneak one last peek at the woman before trotting back upstairs. Once he was gone, she slowly rolled off the bed, letting the dress once again fall to the floor, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body close to his, and kissed him.
Jason returned the kindness then found his lips traveling down her neck. He pulled his head back and looked down at her, speaking in her native Portuguese. “I have to go, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. I’ll be back by this evening. I’d very much like to see you again.”
The smile faded from her lips, and she reached for her dress, this time tying it on for good. She kissed him on the cheek and headed for the stairs. Jason caught her wrist before she disappeared up to the deck. “Wait, I don’t even know your name.”
The woman descended the steps slowly until she was eye to eye with Jason. She pulled his head to her one last time and kissed him hard, gently tugging at his lower lip with her teeth as she finished. “Goodbye.”
Jason stood there with his eyes closed, dazed and confused, the feeling of her lips still lingering on his own. When the fog of her scent finally drifted away, he opened his eyes and sprinted up the cabin steps, his bare feet sliding across the slick deck of the ship. He looked left then right, searching for the pale-blue dress the woman had worn, but saw only the ship’s crew, Chris, both of Ruiz’s men, and the cluster of fishermen preparing their boats for their day at sea.
“Hey, you all right?” Chris laid his hand on Jason’s shoulder. “If you’re looking for the girl, she disappeared up the walkway. Looked like she was in a hurry to leave. You try sleeping with her again?” He slapped Jason across the back, the playful jest pushing him forward.
Wherever she’d gone, Jason had no way of finding her again. He shook off the loss and gathered his shoes. The two men that Ruiz had sent were the size of four, standing at least seven feet high and as wide as a doorway. They shared similar short-cut hair and scraggly beards. “President Ruiz wishes you to convene with his council. It is of the most urgent importance.”
“I’m at the president’s disposal.” Jason turned back to Chris and whispered in his ear once the two behemoths had started their walk down the docks. “Have the crew ready the boat and load the cannons. We may have to shoot our way out of here if things turn south. And I want you and Robert to follow me. I might need the backup.”
Chris nodded then disappeared while Jason caught up with the giants. They provided a horse and started the trot up to the president’s palace. Along the way, Jason caught himself looking through the side alleys of streets, searching for the flash of a blue dress and the wild black hair that accompanied it.
Onc
e they arrived at the palace gates, the two men escorted Jason through the halls and into a smaller room than the one he’d seen a few days ago when he first arrived. The behemoth with the matted beard stopped him before entering. “Your weapons.”
Jason took a step backward and bumped into the wall that was the second giant, who slapped his massive palms over his shoulders, immobilizing him. “Touch my guns, and I’ll make sure the only thing you’re good for is staining the president’s floor after I cut you open.”
The giant took an aggressive step forward, grunting as he reached for Jason’s belt, but then abruptly stopped at President Ruiz’s request. “Enough! That is no way to treat our guest.” He stepped out of the room, immaculately dressed and flashing that poisonous political smile.
The monstrous beasts stepped away, and Ruiz put his arm around Jason, leading him inside, where he saw Chinese Ambassador Fung sitting at the table, sipping a drink from a porcelain cup. The doors closed behind him once inside, and Ruiz gestured for him to sit.
“I apologize for my men,” Ruiz said, slightly chuckling to himself. “I’m afraid they’re more brawn than brain. And not very subtle.”
“I’ve found that subtlety isn’t your country’s specialty, Mr. President. In your guards or your women.”
Ruiz slapped the table, laughing, rattling the plates and silverware. “Sounds as though you’ve been vexed, Governor. I’d be careful if I were you. The women around here are known to be dangerous, especially the ones who’ve found themselves in love.” He gave a coy smile and reached for his drink.
“Have your nightly affairs aided in your negotiations, Governor?” Fung kept a cool face over the mocking comment, his body and hand steady as a stone as he took another sip from his drink.
“Practice makes perfect, Ambassador.” Jason turned to Ruiz. He was tired of the fact that he’d been in Rio for three days and had accomplished nothing of the finalization of their trade agreement. “The sooner we can discuss our next steps, the sooner both of us can return to our normal lives. I’m not sure what the ambassador has planned, but back home I have matters that require my attention.”
