“A female general. Who’s ever heard of a female general?” asked one of the officials. “I slaved away for thirty years, and I’m just a brigadier.”
“Relax, Wakefield. It’s all bogus. She’s just a hot piece of tail, is what she is,” said another official. “Get it? ‘Cause tails—and mermaids…”
“Lay off the scotch, Admiral Sutherland,” Marshal Landou advised. “You two should cool it. Don’t forget that you’re lucky I chose you to be part of an actually interesting joint task force. Also, be polite. She’s in the adjacent cabin.”
“I don’t care,” mumbled Brigadier Wakefield. “She acts so tough. She thinks she’s so entitled. It baffles me that they call her ‘General.’ Hah! General of what? That’s what I wanna know.” The man took a giant gulp of his drink. “She thinks that because she’s in charge of some small village, she’s big time? She’s important enough to be on our level? Why? Just because her little hamlet’s underwater, and that’s so special? Hah! She’s the equivalent of an Indian chief with feathers on his head, holding a fucking tomahawk!”
Before he could utter another sentence, his nose was being slammed into a kneecap.
“Tomahawks are pretty cool,” Visola said to the stunned man as she patted him on the cheek lightly, “but I wouldn’t need any sort of weapon to flatten your face, my friend. I wouldn’t need feathers on my head either, although I have heard that they’re quite flattering to my complexion.”
“I apologize for these nimrods,” Marshal Landou said. “They don’t mean any harm…”
“Landou, do you honestly think I care?” Visola asked with a smile. “I’ve been leading armies since before there was a USA. I’ve been taking crap from men, especially low-ranking pussy soldiers like this one…”
“How dare you call me—”
Visola sharply smashed her knuckles into Wakefield’s already broken nose. “…Since before there were flying machines. I’ve been defending my country since before there were nuclear weapons and submarines. Hearing that I’m not fit to lead because I’m female is a boringly common part of my job. Men are the same, whether above the surface of the sea or below it; they all seem to think they’re inherently better than me and above taking my orders. But I have this fine-tuned, delicate strategy of dealing with insurrection in my troops.” Visola reached out and wiped the blood that was dripping from the man’s nose. “I smash their faces in until they change their minds.”
“Undoubtedly one of the more effective strategies,” Marshal Landou said with evident admiration.
“But there are plenty of others. For example, I also make the fellas who say or do stupid shit take on the crappy jobs,” Visola said, smirking at the terrified man who had insulted her. “Hey, Nosebleed. You’re in charge of reconnaissance. When we get to Shiretoko, you can take a squadron and scope out the situation. That means if there are lingering Clan warriors, you can be the first to die.”
“Can she do that? Can she order me around?” Wakefield asked disbelievingly as he clutched his nose.
“Sure,” Marshal Landou said with a shrug. “The lady knows what she’s doing and it makes my job easier. I fully endorse her every decision.”
“Thanks, Landou,” Visola said, genuinely impressed and flattered. She gave him an appreciative nod. “I’m heading back to my cabin to take a nap. Once we’ve landed, I expect a full recon report. Then I’ll lead us to rescue whomever we can.”
The man with the bloody nose groaned. “Do I have to? Can’t we just circle low to the ground and see if there are enemy forces about?”
“Sure,” Visola said, leaning close to his face, “because they’ll be having a picnic out in the open and wearing brightly colored clothing for us to easily see.”
Marshal Landou smiled. “You have a flair for this, General Ramaris.”
“I’m a firm believer in being passionate about what I do,” Visola responded with a wink. “I’m taking it easy because these are your men, but if this was my army, I would do something theatrical. Something they’d talk about for years; something they’d never forgive or forget. Saves time and effort from having to do it again and again, you know?”
“Examples?”
“Well, my sister is one of those mad-scientist types, and she has this well-catalogued collection of the finest, most sensational diseases that humans have suffered from in recent history. So when someone publicly debases my authority, I like to hook them up with a little quarantine and some quality time with smallpox pustules, gonorrhea, or leprosy. We have fun.”
“That’s inspired,” Marshal Landou commented, stroking his chin.
“Thanks!” Visola said. “But you know, that takes a lot more patience than I usually have. Sometimes I just want to do something quickly and get back to training. I might take the disrespectful soldier’s own sword and shove it up his ass so that he thinks of me fondly every time he’s emptying his bowels and bleeding profusely.”
“I’ve seen her do that,” Vachlan added cheerfully from the doorway to their cabin. “Not in a while, of course. Too bad, it was quite entertaining. I hope she gets a justifiable opportunity in the near future.”
“That’s rape,” said Admiral Sutherland. “That would never be acceptable in…”
“Whatever,” Visola said with a shrug as she sauntered back towards her cabin. “The bad guys always try to rape me. The last time I was captured it was particularly gross. So I channel my anger into stellar leadership skills!”
Leaving an atmosphere of confusion and repulsion in her path, Visola retired to the cabin where Vachlan was waiting. She was sure that if they had hated her before, they would hate her even more now. She did not care; she was exhausted.
Visola smiled at her husband before yawning loudly. “I need that nap.”
“You sent for me, Princess?” Naclana asked, bowing deeply upon entering the room.
“Yes,” Elandria responded curtly, as she sat before her mirror. She had returned to the metropolis. There were three handmaidens working around her and weaving pearls into her long white hair. It was her sister’s hairstyle. She was forsaking her modest braid for the elaborate traditional royal coiffure.
“What can I do for you, Princess?” Naclana asked, after he overcame his initial surprise at hearing the girl’s voice.
Elandria made eye contact with the man through her mirror. “Build me a palace of ice.”
His brow furrowed as he watched her rosy lips move in speech. It was surprising to him that Elandria was wearing colors to enhance her face. Her cheeks were accented, along with the lines of her eyes. Something drastic had changed. He was not wholly convinced that she was in her right mind.
“A palace of ice?” Naclana repeated in confusion.
“Yes. Was I not articulate?” she asked.
“Princess Elandria, you already have one.”
“I would like another. Above the glacier, not beneath it. Not as massive as ours, but in a similar style. I need it built fairly quickly to accommodate the visiting dignitaries and tourists. It would be convenient if there was a connection through the ice to our palace.” She stared at the dumbstruck man with a frown. “Naclana, is there a problem?”
“No, Princess. I am just surprised…”
“I expect an imposing, extraordinary structure with arresting architecture. Far better than the one Empress Anna commissioned in St. Petersburg. Have the best team collaborate with engineers and masons and bring me blueprints and sketches for approval.”
Naclana cleared his throat. “Have you spoken with King Trevain about this?”
Elandria lifted her hand, and the women working on her hair paused and stepped aside. Rising to her feet, the princess turned to glare at Naclana. “He sought me out. You all sought me out, desperately demanding that I return and take charge. Here I am, doing as you all wish and gripping the reins of this runaway horse. Stop salivating and staring, and follow my orders, Cousin.”
“As you wish. Yes, Princess. I’ll go at once,” Nacla
na said, his words leaving his mouth far too quickly and jumbling together. He saluted firmly across his chest before scurrying away.
“Was that normal?” Visola asked, taking deep breaths. There was no way she was going to be able to sleep.
“Yes, it was just a bit of turbulence. It happens sometimes.”
Visola nodded, staring down at the landscape visible from the plane’s window. There was just pure ocean. Occasionally, volcanic islands would rise seemingly out of nowhere, poking their tops out through the surface. Her fear of flying was quickly subsiding into wonderment.
I could get used to this, she thought to herself. Visola just barely recognized some of the islands, being more familiar with their appearance from deep in the water. This was a very different point of view, and she found it fascinating. The speed with which the islands flew by was mindboggling. She found it increasingly astonishing that they could cover such distance so efficiently, but she did not want to remark on it constantly to appear inexperienced and infantile to Vachlan. He had obviously traveled in this manner frequently with his fake passports, and it seemed like nothing special to him.
“Do you think that Queen Amabie is still upset with me?” she asked Vachlan as she studied the topography of small islands in the distance. She estimated them to be the Kuril Islands of Russia, which meant that they were nearing Hokkaido.
“Maybe,” Vachlan responded, “but she was never really angry with you to begin with. She was pissed at me, and rightly so. I wrecked Yonaguni in the 50s—I was the reason she had to relocate to Shiretoko. And now her second home has been gutted. I bet she blames me for this too, but I did warn her.”
Visola shook her head sadly. “Even if she hadn’t turned her back on me; even if I had sent all of Adlivun’s forces to Shiretoko, including the new troops…”
“I don’t think you could have prevented this,” Vachlan said, squeezing her knee.
“But I could have,” Marshal Landou said firmly as he reentered their cabin. “I could have prevented this if you had sought my help, General.”
“Do you really think so?” Visola asked with a curious frown.
“Of course. We could have communicated with the Japanese, and they would have…”
“I’m not sure she would have accepted help,” Visola told the bald warrior quietly. “Queen Amabie was vehemently against revealing ourselves to the land-based governments. That was part of our disagreement.”
“I could have helped without her ever knowing that we were American troops,” Marshal Landou suggested. “I don’t think either of you understand the breadth of the resources that I control.”
“I understand very well,” Vachlan said suspiciously, “but what I don’t get is your interest in us.”
“Pure neighborly concern, of course,” Landou said with a guarded smile. He turned to Visola. “What is this Queen Amabie like? You have reverence in your voice when you mention her.”
“Oh, she’s incredible,” Visola said. “She’s very old—almost a millenium. She has always closely followed the sea-dweller tenets as well as the samurai code.”
“And look where it’s gotten her,” Vachlan added grimly.
“She has been unlucky, but she is the most honorable warrior I know. She deserved better than this. Too bad that a sixteen ounce, extremely rare helping of honor doesn’t come with a side dish of roasted, mashed, buttery luck.”
“Damn,” said Marshal Landou. “Now I’m hungry.”
“It’s all clear, General Ramaris,” reported the man with the broken nose. The area surrounding the coordinates was densely packed with forest, so the plane had not been able to land within several miles of the spot. It was about an hour’s hike.
“Good work, Nosebleed,” Visola said. “See anything of importance?”
“It’s just your typical National Park. Lots of trees, rocks, rivers…”
“And at those specific coordinates?” Vachlan asked.
“We didn’t get too close, but there seems to be a waterfall.”
“Then we’ll start there,” Visola said. “There’s probably a cave behind it where the survivors are camped. It looks like it’s going to rain and I know you land-dwellers don’t like getting wet, so if we move fast we can make it there and back before the storm.”
“See? She’s really quite considerate,” Vachlan said, elbowing one of the men.
Marshal Landou had been on the phone while this exchange was taking place, but he now closed it and approached them. “Sorry, I was just giving updates to the Secretary. Let’s get a move on.”
They began hiking through the woods, with Visola and Landou at the head of the march, and Vachlan bringing up the rear. They hiked along mostly in silence, but would occasionally engage in conversation. Everyone was armed to the teeth, toes, and elbows.
“So, you have a secretary?” Visola asked, as they made their way through the thicket of trees.
“Not exactly. That was the Secretary of Defense.”
“Oh.” Visola noticed the gravity with which he said the title. “So there’s someone above you?”
“Of course. But most of the time, she lets me be above her.”
Visola chuckled at his meaning. “So you two are a high-ranking military couple? That must be a bit stressful. Does she give you orders? I sometimes order Vachlan to give me shoulder rubs. ”
“Oh, we’re not a couple. She’s married to some lawyer or something.”
“You’re sleeping with a married woman?” Visola asked in surprise.
“I am a man of questionable morals,” he responded, sending her a wink. “Really, though. I have a fondness for married women. Something about the challenge. And they’re usually starved for shoulder rubs.”
“I see,” Visola said with a laugh. “Well, I’m just going to go over there and, uh, find something to do over there.”
“See? Challenge,” the marshal said with a grin. Visola rolled her eyes and circled around back to the rear to check on Vachlan. When she was close to her husband, Vachlan smiled at her, and she immediately felt better.
He hung his rifle over his shoulder to speak to her in sign language. “What happened to leading the troops?”
“I was too far away from you,” she responded with her hands, sending him a playful look. A flash of lightning illuminated the forest for a moment, followed immediately by a loud peal of thunder. Everyone paused and looked around a bit startled, but quickly continued walking, with renewed chatter about the weather. For tough military officials, they all seemed very upset about being caught in a downpour.
“It’s so serene here,” Vachlan observed once the light rain began falling. “It hardly looks like anything bad happened. I mean, we still don’t even know where the city of Shiretoko actually is. Is that where we’re heading? Or is Queen Amabie intentionally hidden far away from the city? How did the Clan of Zalcan know where to go? I wasn’t privy to that information when I was with them.”
“If they had the vague idea that it was around here, and if they searched long and hard enough, I’m sure they could have pinned it down on their own.”
“But Queen Amabie would have concealed her location well. She is not an imprudent…”
“Wait!” Visola said, holding up her hand. She stopped walking and turned around to examine the forest behind her cautiously. She put a hand on one of the various hilts of weapons at her waist as she studied the shadows.
“Did you hear something?” Vachlan asked.
“I don’t know,” she said with a frown. “Let me get Landou.” Visola ran through the forest back to the front of the line, and grabbed the marshal’s elbow. “I think there’s something here.”
“Like what?” he asked.
Visola held up her hand, indicating for the marshal and all the men behind him to stop moving and talking. The visibility was tough in the thickness of the trees and darkening sky. “On your toes, guys. Get ready.”
They all complied with her instructions and moved their weapons t
o ready positions. Visola lifted her hands and used sign language to communicate with Vachlan who was a few hundred feet away. “How many? Do you know how many?”
“I can’t see anything yet, Viso. I feel eyes on me. I hear movement. At least a few dozen. Not more than a thousand.”
“We’re surrounded,” she said out loud. Visola did not feel comfortable using her rifle in this congested obscurity, and she quietly drew her sword from her hip and held it before her, with her unicorn trident in her other hand. A flurry of silent looks were exchanged between the men as they scanned the forest to either side of the narrow trail they were on. Marshal Landou locked eyes with Visola, and she pointed back in the direction they came.
“Are you sure?” Landou asked.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. She turned the brigadier with a hiss. “Thought you said it was clear, Nosebleed.”
“It is clear, you stupid woman,” said Brigardier Wakefield impatiently. “Let’s keep moving. There is nothing out…”
A quick flash of lightning illuminated the area, and they could suddenly see the shadowlike human figures moving toward them.
“Stay together!” Marshal Landou shouted. He was moving in front of Visola to protect her from where they had seen the closest attacker a moment ago, but Visola could hear more approaching from behind. She swung around pressing her shoulder to his.
A whizzing was heard in the air and her arms instinctively lifted. “Cover your faces!” she yelled.
“We know how to fight,” the brigadier with the broken nose cursed at her. “Why don’t you just shut your mouth and…”
Another flash of lightning illuminated the area, and Visola saw the brigadier with the bad attitude take an arrow directly to his face. The arrow pierced his nostril and embedded itself deeply in his brain as the man’s pupils dilated in alarm. She winced, both from the gruesome sight and from feeling an arrow hit her Kevlar-gloved hand. “I softened it up for them,” she whispered. Feeling the air around her distorted from the wind of flying arrows, and feeling one hit her directly in her armored bellybutton, she screamed in frustration.
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