Earth-Thunder

by Patrick Tilley

  The link was clean and strong, just as it had been when he’d sent out the desperate May-Day appeal from the locked cabin of the wheel-boat, but the unexpected contact left his mind reeling.

  Roz wasn’t in Wyoming. She was here, in the Summer Palace – with Cadillac!

  They were involved in an operation against the Toh-Yota. That was the reason for the present uproar, and why he and Fran had been arrested.

  Terrific. Just what he needed!

  What the hell did Cadillac think he was up to? Steve didn’t give a damn about the deal the Federation had been trying to set up, but he did care about the fallout. Even if Roz was able to make good her unspoken promise to spring him from this rat-hole it would still leave everything totally messed up. The overthrow of the present ruling family might be a good enough reason for returning empty-handed, but if the P-G found out the deal had been blown by Roz and Cadillac, 8902 Brickman S.R. could kiss goodbye to the high life and look forward to getting his balls roasted.

  His involvement with both of them was too deep for him to disclaim all responsibility. Even though he and Roz hadn’t been inside each other’s heads since she’d left the Red River wagon-train, he couldn’t prove it. Karlstrom and the P-G were bound to believe he was in this up to his neck. Prior knowledge and active involvement. A tough rap to beat.

  If the flak came his way, Fran would step aside. You could bet your last credit on that. It made better sense to try and get Fran out on his own. At least that would earn him an E for Effort. Yeah … plus an A for an Amazing escape from a locked underground cell.

  The only way it could be done was with outside help. Between them, Roz and Cadillac had the skill and the power. If they concealed their true identities from Fran, Brickman S.R. could avoid being fatally compromised. All well and good, but AMEXICO had men inside Ne-Issan with their ear to the ground – guys like Sidewinder. If the Toh-Yota fell and the shit hit the fan, the truth was bound to come out.

  Steve found himself smiling as these thoughts ran through his head. It was one crazy kind of world where being rescued was the worst thing that could happen to you.

  From further down the corridor came the sound of a flurry of blows, followed by hoarse screams and curses. A woman gave a shrill animal-like scream of pain. Another heavy, iron-clad door slammed shut. Bolts were rammed home. The noise subsided, leaving only the sound of someone sobbing quietly.

  ‘Any of that make sense to you?’ asked Steve. All he could see of Fran was the barely discernible outline of her head framed by a square of dark grey that marked the barred window in the cell door.

  ‘Not much,’ she replied. ‘The woman who cried out was saying she was innocent. Of what, I don’t know. Not that it matters. Whoever’s running this place doesn’t seem to be taking much notice.’

  Steve heard more faint voices. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘If you will just keep quiet, maybe I’ll be able to tell you!’ Fran listened intently, then said: ‘Must be one of the warders. He was asking where he should put the new arrivals.’

  Steve joined her by the door and feigned ignorance. ‘Why are they arresting so many people in the middle of the night?’ As he asked the question he realised he was standing next to someone who’d seen this kind of thing before. But from the other side. ‘Some kind of purge, huh?’

  Fran nodded. ‘Looks that way.’

  ‘But why us? Hell – we’re here at the invitation of Ieyasu and the Shogun.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Fran. ‘Maybe they’re not in charge any more.’

  Steve caught his breath and continued to play the innocent. ‘Hey, c’mon, that’s crazy! Karlstrom and the P-G wouldn’t have sent us here if they’d known something like this was brewing.’

  ‘Karlstrom? Huhh! Don’t be fooled by him. He’s the worst head of AMEXICO we’ve ever had!’

  ‘You’re kidding!’

  ‘I’m telling you, Brickman! You’re just a new boy, okay? He’s hanging onto that job by his fingertips – and has been for years. And the only reason he’s still there is because the P-G keeps on giving him another chance. They were childhood buddies.’

  ‘I’m amazed. He’s always given me the impression of being in total control. Like he had the inside track on everything and everybody.…’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ said Fran, letting go of the bars. ‘So how come we’re in this mess?’ She slid down the wall onto the straw and drew her knees up against her chest.

  Steve couldn’t believe what she had said about Karlstrom was true, but it was an interesting piece of malicious gossip that warranted further investigation. It was also typical of Fran. Unable to blame him for their present predicament, she had converted her anxiety into a spiteful attack on the head of the organisation he worked for.

  The thing was – did she have the necessary resilience to pull through something like this? She had faced down Ieyasu’s aides with some tough talking, but that was all it had been – talk. As far as he knew, Fran had never suffered a day of discomfort in the whole of her privileged existence. When she’d put the verbal boot into Karlstrom there had been a noticeable quaver in her voice. Anger or the first signs of panic?

  He dropped down beside her and laid a reassuring arm across her shoulders. ‘Listen. I know this doesn’t look too good at the moment, but don’t let it get to you. We’ll figure a way out.’

  Fran bristled and pushed his arm away. ‘You can be a real pain in the butt, y’know that?! Yeah, sure, I’m scared. Who wouldn’t be? But I’m not about to come apart at the seams. Y’got that, Captain?’

  ‘Yessurr-ma’am!’

  ‘Good. Now get this. You may be the best thing that happened to me so far, but if you ever lay that "poor little woman" shit on me again, you’ll find yourself back in the A-Levels. And this time you’ll stay there!’

  Fran seemed to have completely forgotten her first night at sea when she’d clung to him like a terrified child. I’m dealing with an irrational human being here, thought Steve. If I show no concern, I’m unsympathetic. If I offer comfort, I’m being patronising. And if I disagree, I’m insubordinate.

  It was a no-win situation, but there was nothing he could do about it. He was stuck with her.…

  On being respectfully informed that Oyoki, her personal maid-servant had arrived in the anteroom, Mishiko emerged from the Shogun’s private suite of rooms. Oyoki was accompanied by Nitobe, one of the eight guards who had helped to row the long-boat. He had a bloodstained bandage around his neck and over his left ear, and another on his left forearm. Oyoki looked distraught, and when she and Nitobe fell to their knees before her, she burst into tears.

  Mishiko went cold inside. ‘You have not brought my children?’

  Oyoki answered with a wailing incantation and began to sob uncontrollably, rocking back and forth with her hands clasped to her chest – the traditional way of mourning the dead.

  Mishiko’s outward demeanour did not change. Anger and joy were permissible emotions, but it was not proper for someone of noble birth to display any sign of weakness in front of lesser beings.

  She addressed the guard. ‘Nitobe …?’

  The wounded man touched the straw matting with his forehead then sat back on his heels. ‘Your highness, it shames me to bring you such grievous news. Your children are dead. Secretary Ichiwara and four of Ieyasu’s personal guards burst into your apartments and put everyone they met to the sword! They were like men possessed! We fought back and killed them all, but not before Ichiwara reached your children and their nurse.’ His face crumpled. ‘Your maids tried to shield them with their bodies. Only Oyoki and Katiwa survived.’

  Mishiko received this news with the same blank face. ‘And my valiant guards …?’

  Nitobe lowered his head. ‘Four died, your highness. Another may not live beyond morning. Two more received sword thrusts to the body. I am the only one who can walk unaided.’

  ‘I commend your bravery, Nitobe. Go and tend your wounded companions – and give them my t
hanks.’

  The guard bowed and left. Oyoki choked back her grief. Mishiko motioned her to rise.

  ‘Dry your tears, Oyoki. Only the common people display their grief outside the temple precincts. Ask my brother’s servants to prepare me a bath then bring two cups and a good supply of sake. If we are to be denied happiness, we can at least drown our sorrows!’

  It was after midnight when the Shogun and his escort returned. He looked tired, but there was a firm set to his jaw and a hard glitter in his eyes. Captain Kamakura was with him. Mishiko bowed in greeting. Yoritomo sat down on the stool that had been placed under him and spread his arms and legs to enable his servants to remove his armour.

  ‘The Palace is ours. The future is assured. Did you hear the cheers? That was me winning the hearts of the second company.’ He gave a quick laugh. ‘If there were any waverers, they soon fell into line when Mashimatsu’s head was paraded past them on a pole!’

  His face tightened as he saw her kneeling maid-servant. ‘You know then?’

  ‘Yes, my lord. Oyoki has spared you the pain of telling me yourself. The Fates have played a cruel trick on us. Just when we are about to savour victory, they hand us a poisoned chalice!’

  ‘It should never have happened. That fool of a lieutenant and the soldiers who let Ichiwara go will pay dearly for this.’

  Mishiko fell to her knees before him. ‘No, my lord! I beg you! Do not punish them. What will their companions think when they see those who serve you loyally so cruelly rewarded?’

  Her appeal for clemency was an oblique reference to the fate of the Herald Hase-Gawa. If Yoritomo made the connection, it didn’t show. He stood up as the last of his armour was removed and helped her to rise. ‘My dearest sister! An example must be made! The death of your children must be avenged!’

  ‘The hot blood of those who conspired with Ieyasu will satisfy me,’ she whispered. She extended a hand towards Kamakura. ‘Let us give thanks that the gods have shown favour to your loyal Captain by sparing his daughter.’

  ‘Hah! Then he is doubly blest!’ cried Yoritomo. ‘For I have made him Castle Commandant!’

  ‘And General Tadoshi?’

  ‘With the rest of my grand-uncle’s vile cronies! In a cell!’

  Mishiko favoured Kamakura with a regal nod. ‘I could not think of a more fitting recompense for your service to this family.’

  ‘Your highness is most gracious.…’

  Mishiko beckoned to her maid-servant. ‘Come, Oyoki. Go with your father. Have him convey you to the safety of your family home. Remain there until I call upon you to attend me – and do your best to put this dreadful night out of your mind.’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  Catching the look in his sister’s eyes, Yoritomo ordered his bodyguard and the other members of his entourage to remain on call, then ushered her into his private suite. As his valet and personal servants went to follow, he motioned them to wait outside.

  When the doors closed he confronted Mishiko. ‘You astound me. How can you concern yourself with the welfare of servants when your own children have just been murdered?!’

  ‘Because I share your royal blood, my lord. Have you not shown your magnanimity tonight? It is by our actions towards the living that we are measured. We can do nothing for the dead except honour their memory. As for my children, I will bear their loss with the same fortitude that has helped me endure our separation.

  ‘May the gods nurture their innocent souls and grant me forgiveness! I bore them and treated them tenderly but I could never take them into my heart because they were never fully mine! They sprang from the seed of my late, unlamented husband, the Consul General – pumped into me by the same organ that was thrust daily into his gutter-whores!

  ‘Now he is nothing – and I have nothing to remind me of him! I can wipe away ten years of shame! It can be as it was between us before Ieyasu drove me away!’

  ‘Mishiko! Soon perhaps, but not now. This is not the time!’

  She seized his hands. ‘Yes! Yes! This is the time! We must seize the moment! Can’t you feel it? With Ieyasu’s death you have been reborn! I can see it in your eyes! You are the master now!’ She drew his hands onto her breasts. ‘Seal our victory by giving me your child tonight! Do not deny me this, for without your love, I have nothing to live for!’

  Yoritomo could feel her nipples pressing through the silken robe into the palms of his hands. The sensation rekindled the old desires he had never fully suppressed. Mishiko was right. This was a rebirth. And tonight those youthful desires had been given an extra spice. The killing, the blood, the violence, the heady taste of absolute power, his sister’s emotional turmoil formed a potent cocktail. For the first time he felt unashamed. There was no need to hide. Let those around him disapprove if they dared. Yes! He was the master now!

  ‘I shall deny you nothing, Mishi,’ he whispered. ‘For you were my first love, and will be my last.…’

  After Yoritomo’s servants had prepared them, they met again in the darkened bed-chamber, now perfumed by burning joss-sticks. Four charcoal braziers cast their warming glow over the large mattress-bed. Lady Mishiko greeted her brother with the required degree of respect for his position as supreme ruler of Ne-Issan, then slowly undressed him, covering his naked flesh with lingering kisses as more and more of it was revealed.

  When the last garment fell away, and he stood before her, his pale skin tinted orange by the firelight, she gathered up the hem of the filmy silken shift she had been given to wear, lifted it over her head and cast it aside. Keeping her arms lifted high and wide, she presented her heavy rounded breasts with their erect nipples raised for his inspection, then turned her back on him.

  Act One.…

  These preliminaries were part of a ritual that her adolescent brother had cajoled and bullied her into. She had quickly learned what pleased him, and over the years their furtive couplings had always followed the same pattern – like actors playing traditional roles in a Noh drama about star-crossed lovers.

  Yoritomo’s hands slid under her arms and up onto her breasts, flattening them against her rib-cage and drawing her body back against his. This was how it had begun during that long hot summer; the very first movement he had made on entering the shaded coolness of her room and stealing up behind her. Then as now, she felt her nipples sprout between his parted fingers as his great stick wedged itself between his belly and the cleft in her buttocks.

  Then she hadn’t known what he expected of her, but there was no hesitation now. Raising herself up on tiptoe, she parted her thighs and straddled him as he slipped through.

  Act Two … Even now, fifteen years and countless penetrations later, Yoritomo felt his mind reel as he relived the moment when his innermost desires were fulfilled. It was all he had dreamed of and more. She had become an ardent slave that he could bend to his will, could submit to, could suffer any indignity he fancied at her hands without losing control of the situation or her respect.

  Mishiko also remembered that moment. He had come upon her like a rutting stag. And she, like a young doe in heat, had responded. Their first encounter left her feeling confused and ashamed, but it had opened a well-spring of desire. She had never loved Yoritomo, but she was – like their father – highly-sexed. Their semi-secret relationship had provided the opportunity to satisfy her physical needs without going through the whole tiresome business of having to get married to a young man that her family approved of but who, by the very nature of things, she was bound to detest. Which was precisely what had happened when the family married her off to the Consul-General Nakane Toh-Shiba.

  It was only with the Herald, Toshiro Hase-Gawa, that she had experienced the joy and pain of true love, and the fulfillment it could bring to a physical union.

  Mishiko thought of the Herald as she closed her thighs, trapping her brother in the honey-pit. Yoritomo gasped with pleasure then buried his face in the free-flowing shoulder-length hair she wore on these occasions as he continued to claw greed
ily at her breasts.

  Ohh … Mishi! … Mishit His right hand slid down her belly, his fingers searching out the cleft between her thighs. He was ready. She slipped from his embrace and led him to the mattress bed.

  Act Three … They clung to each other beneath the coverlet like lost children, their bodies touching from head to toe. She brought her lips close to his ear. ‘At last! Oh, my lord and master! My one and only love!’

  Yoritomo drew his head away from hers. The past could not be expunged without calling his sister to account – and the need to do so overwhelmed his desire. ‘No! How can you say that when you betrayed me? You gave your love to the Herald Hase-Gawa! You wrote to me, asking to marry him! Just the thought of it drove me mad! I wanted to kill you!’

  Mishiko brought his face back within reach of her lips. ‘You would have been wrong to do so. Yes, I loved the Herald, but do you know why? Because the love that brought us together was our love for you. He never shared my bed, and never thought to!’

  This was quite untrue, but it was precisely what her brother wanted to hear. Mishiko fed him more lies. ‘Toshiro brought me news from court, but most of all he talked about you. I never tired of listening and he never tired of my questions. When my husband was killed, falling from the sky, I took it as a sign from the gods. I thought that if I married your favourite, I would be able to return to live in the palace. To be near you.’

  ‘Was Toshiro aware of this?’

  ‘Of course! Have I not said he loved you?!’

  Yoritomo sat up. ‘May the Gods forgive me! I have killed my one true friend!’

  Mishiko hugged him. ‘Your other true friend. You still have me. Do not grieve. He will never die as long as you and I are together. Come … lie down beside me.’