From: "Naga" [See previous section for Disclaimer] *** The next day... The late afternoon sun beat down on the forested hills, cool mountain wind stirring up the fallen autumn leaves. A trail of men and horse-drawn carts were making their way down a deserted mountain road. It was a reasonably impressive entourage, around forty soldiers clad in leather armor, half of them armed with western rifles. They surrounded the convoy of carts loaded with sturdy boxes. Several officers rode on horseback at the front of the line, setting a comfortable pace. They were well within schedule, there was no need to hurry. The convoy was too big for any roaming bandits to try for their precious cargo, and besides, they had been assured that none of the rebels knew of their supply run. He did not know that carrier pigeons had been released two days ago to carry urgent messages to him and several other entourages. He and his men were in between communication posts, and they had no way of knowing the danger they were walking into. Their first warning of trouble was when the ground burst under their feet in a succession of powerful explosions, right in the middle of the convoy. Over half of the carts tumbled into the air in broken pieces, wooden boxes crashing heavily to the ground. Most of the carthorses and the soldiers standing nearby were killed outright or heavily wounded. Panicked screams from men and beasts alike, and confused shouts filled the air as the rest of the convoy scrambled frantically away from the deadly ground. Some of the braver ones tried to help their injured comrades, which only added to the chaotic tangle. The officer at the front screamed orders at his men, desperately trying to salvage the disaster, knowing there was more coming. His shouts gurgled to a stop though as a shaft of arrow pierced his neck. He fell off the horse clawing at his neck as more arrows rained down on the soldiers from both sides of the mountain trail. The distance was too close for leather armor to save the soldiers and another ten men fell to the ground. The first few gun-shots cracked through the air as some soldiers lost their calm and started shooting wildly towards the mountain sides. Almost all of them missed as the ambushers ducked behind surrounding trees. Order would have completely disintegrated if not for the second officer. Riding low on his horse, he kicked and cursed his panicking men into order. He had half of the remaining men with guns lined up and laying a suppressing fire towards the left side of the trail. All the rest charged screaming to engage the opposite side, those with rifles supporting their comrades from behind. Their attackers were crouched behind the tree line, a motley crowd of poorly dressed men with no armor and mismatched weapons. As previously instructed, both sides came down the trail to hit the convoy with a flanking move. Bows were thrown down, replaced by axes, scythes, and spears as they rushed down to meet the soldiers' charge. The battle was engaged in earnest at last. The first few minutes cost the ambushers dearly as multiple shots rang out and men were hit sprawling into the dirt. For a while, the last-ditch tactic worked, the line of rifle-men shooting down attackers and slowing down the charge from the left. The rest of the soldiers fought with the right flank attackers for all they were worth. The only way for them to survive was to kill enough of this group before the rest could attack them from behind. And yet, even though the ambushers were inferior in equipment and skill, there were more of them. For each man the soldiers killed two more took his place. Then with a roar, all of the left flank ambushers rushed towards the line of rifle-men, ignoring the shots that whittled them down. At the forefront, a tall one-eyed man led the charge as the ambushers crashed into the rifle-men, the katana in his hands flashing red as he wielded it with lethal skill and ruthlessness. The sheer momentum and brutality of the mass attack overwhelmed the soldiers and the line crumbled. Order and discipline dissolved in the pitched, close-quarter battle, battle-fever and stark survival instincts taking over. Again, superior number proved a decisive factor and it did not take long before the soldiers were barreled over. The main force was still locked in a fierce melee when the left flank ambushers smashed into them from behind. And the outcome was sealed. *** Kyosuke swung the spear in his hand in a powerful side blow. In the close quarters, the long pole crashed into two men at once, Kyosuke's incredible strength sweeping them both to the ground. Two Ishin Shishi beside him rushed forward to engage them, and he was about to follow when another soldier armed with a katana jumped in their place. The other man's eyes were wild with berserk rage and desperation, and he screamed as he brought his sword down. Kyosuke blocked his overhead blow, the other's crazed strength making him grunt a little. He flexed his elbows and surged up, throwing off the katana, then he thrust for the soldier's stomach. The soldier twisted aside and slashed for Kyosuke's head. Frantically, Kyosuke raised his spear straight up, blocking the blow. He had a frantic moment to pray that the spear would not get cut in half, then the katana hit his weapon with a vicious jar, biting half an inch into the wood. He saw his opening and as the soldier tried to pull off his weapon, he tilted the spear and slammed its lower end up between the man's legs. Not very honorable, but he was no samurai. The soldier's eyes bulged out, his mouth open in a soundless exclamation, then Kyosuke smashed the side of his spear against the man's neck. A sickening crunch of bone signaled a crushed neck, and a man who had been alive a fraction of a second ago fell limbless to the ground. Before he drew more than one ragged breath, a gun-shot cracked near enough for him to jump. Whirling around, he saw behind him a group of men surrounding a soldier in horse-back, an officer by the look of it. They were trying to pull him down, but the obviously battle-trained horse was in a berserk rage, rearing wildly and kicking anyone who tried to come near. The officer itself had a small gun on his hand, trying to shoot his way through the mob. "Get the horse!" Someone was screaming above the commotion. "Get the damn horse!" One of the men was clipped by a glancing kick from the horse and fell with a cry, landing dangerously close to the stamping hooves. Kyosuke recognized the man from a few dinners together. As the horse reared above the man, he rushed forward without even thinking and slammed his entire weight against the horse's side. The animal staggered under the force, its hooves landing a bare foot away from the cowering man underneath. Kyosuke took the chance to grab the horse's bridle, forcing it down. He panted as his mucles strained against the bucking horse, flinching as it snapped foam-lines teeth inches from his shoulder. If he could only hold the animal still long enough... Then he heard a soft click and found himself looking up a barrel of a revolver, and the officer's cold eyes behind it. He froze Death stared him right in the eyes, the black hole of the barrel expanding out of proportion to engulf him... Suddenly the officer jerked forward as a blade tip emerged miraculously from his chest. The gun fell from his hand he reached vainly for his wound. The horse bucked again, pulling Kyosuke off the ground and nearly wrenching his arms off their sockets, and the officer was thrown to the ground. He lay limply on his side, a wakizashi piercing him through from behind. Kyosuke scrambled away from the mad horse and dragged the other man with him. He twisted around wildly for more threats, but all the ones standing near him were Ishin Shishis. "Kyosuke!" He looked around to see a man striding purposely in his direction. A lean man with a distinctive vertical scar running across his blind left eye. The leader of this mission. Kyosuke had to try twice before his throat could work enough to answer, "Kan...Kanzaki-san." The one-eyed man came up beside the fallen officer and prodded him once to make sure he was dead, then he turned towards Kyosuke. "Nice of you to hold the horse still," he remarked drily, "but I wouldn't call grabbing on to an angry war-horse a very smart move, Kyosuke." Kyosuke could only shake his head mutely, not trusting his voice. Kanzaki pulled the wakizashi out of the officer's and wiped the blade clean on the man's trousers. "But thanks for the help. This guy's the second-in-command. Wouldn't do to have him running for help." He glanced over at Kyosuke, "Relax, Kyo. It's over." "E..eh?" He realized then that all the fighting was mostly finished, the forty something members of the convoy already lying on the ground, dead or heavily wounded. The surrounding area was littered with bodies, not all of them in soldier uniform. It was only then that he was aware of his frantic panting. Not out of breath, but rather the frenzied adrenaline of battle. His heart felt ready to leap out of his mouth. He leant on knees, half-hunched as he tried to steady his shaking legs. Funny that they only started shaking now, now that it was all over. {How did Himura do this? Day after day.} That gun... he felt the late reaction setting in, magnifying his trembling until it rattled his whole body. He clamped down on it as much as he could, feeling Kanzaki's eyes on him. This was not the first time he had been shot at, but it was the first time he had a gun pointed right at his nose. If Kanzaki had not thrown that blade, he would have been dead now. "Thanks, Kanzaki-san," he croaked out. "I mean... that gun..." Kanzaki slapped him on the back, "Don't worry about it. When you feel better, come and help me over there, eh?" He walked away, calling out to other men. Kyosuke took deep breaths and turned to find a patch of ground to sit on. His gaze fell on the soldier he had killed earlier, the one dead with a crushed neck. The man's sightless eyes stared at nothing, already filmed with death. Kyosuke hurriedly averted his eyes and edged away from the dead man. Cold sweat beaded his face and he sank to a rest leaning on a tree. "Please don't haunt me later, alright?" he muttered up at the sky. "I didn't really hate you or anything, you know? I'll burn some offering for you next time I go to the temple. I know it's not much, but..." He trailed off miserably, feeling the foolishness of his words. Would the dead man hear him? Some of his friends would laugh him off for being superstitious. Kyosuke did not know if he was being foolish, but burning those offerings at the temple had not been completely because of fear of ghosts. It was guilt. Guilt that the other man was dead and he was alive. And that he felt so relieved to be alive, after he had killed another person. What would Himura think? The thought of the younger man made him remember their last sparring together. Not that it had been a real spar, Himura simply went through a few simple forms with him. The younger man had shown him the move he had used to kill the soldier. Hr remembered laughing with embarrassment at that low move, but Himura had looked at him with those eyes of his gone all still and cold, and told him - {You're not a samurai. You have a family back home. The only thing you need to concern yourself with is to live. By any means necessary.} Would the former hitokiri think his guilt a foolish thing too? Kill, or be killed. Was that not the rule that all kenkaku understand and embrace? Which means that the younger man most probably *would* call him stupid. Except that he remembered Himura tossing in his delirium a few days ago, whispering something about eyes. Did he see the eyes of the dead? Did they too haunt him the way they haunt his dreams? "Oy, Kyosuke!" He looked up, startled out of his thoughts. "Hai!" One of his friends was beckoning for him. "Come on over, we need your strength to move the boxes." "Alright." As he followed his friend towards the road, he noticed a few of the Shishis checking all the downed soldiers. He heard a strangled sound from the side that was abruptly cut off. Swallowing hard, he kept his eyes firmly fixed ahead, and away from the torn bodies of men caught up in the buried ceramic explosives. Half of the bodies lying too still were Ishin Shishi, men he had known. The hot wind was thick with the stench of gunpowder, fresh-spilled blood, and worse. A few groups of men were poking and prodding at the shattered supply boxes scattered on the ground, trying to sort out the mess. Kanzaki was standing beside the largest of the convoy boxes, one that had miraculously escaped the explosives unharmed. It was the only one of its size, all the others were much smaller. "...better be worth it, after all of this," one of the man was muttering sullenly. "We lost nearly half our numbers on this ambush, Kanzaki." "Shut up," Kanzaki snapped succinctly, pulling at the wreckages. "Make yourself useful and help me with this." Kyosuke edged in to help, tossing away broken pieces of planks. Straws littered the ground where the boxes had broken open. {Straws?} The convoy must had been moving armors or weapons then. Only those warrant protection like this. "Kanzaki-san!" A group working on another box stumbled over to them, two of them cradling a large piece of something in their hands. From the awkward way they move, it was something heavy. "Take a look at this!" Kyosuke craned in his head curiously as Kanzaki uncovered the soft cloth tangled around the thing. The cloth caught his attention, being thick and fine, too high a quality to be used for covering goods. Then it fell away and Kyosuke stared along with the rest of the men. It was obviously a weapon - but like nothing Kyosuke had ever seen before. It looked like a cross between a small cannon and a gun, with a big barrel over two meters in length. Two slender handles protruded from the end of it, serving no obvious purpose that Ksyosuke could discern. Saw-dust and dirt slightly marred the polish of brand-new metalwork, but it still gleamed with a muted sinister sheen. He turned a questioning look at one of the men, who was looking a bit pale. The man shot Kyosuke a look and said in a hushed voice, "Gatling gun." "Kami-sama..." he whispered in awed shock and fear. He had heard the whispered second-hand tales of people who had come face-to-face with it and barely lived to tell the tale. He had never heard of gatling guns in seifu hands. But there had been rumors. "How many of these did you find?" He heard Kanzaki asked the men roughly. "Et-to... five so far, but we haven't checked all of them yet." Kanzaki ran a hand down the smooth metal, his one remaining eye dark with thought. Then he turned and started pulling at the planks that made up the large box. "Everybody, help me with this." "But Kanzaki-san, what about..." "Will you shut up and do as I say!" Kyosuke was the only one close enough to hear Kanzaki talking from gritted teeth as they worked. "If they have the damn gatling gun... gods, I hope I'm wrong..." One of the plank bent under Kyosuke's hands, then splintered with a crack. From the gap, the others were able to gain leverage, and soon one side of the box crashed down, revealing the content. Straw dust filled the air and Kyosuke coughed from the lungful of dusty air. His watery eyes could barely make out the large shape inside, something dark grey and filling the entire box from end to end. He heard a sharp intake of breath from Kanzaki, and a few outright gasps from the others. It had become very quiet all of a sudden. He blinked a few times and finally saw what the others did. Longer even than the gatling-gun, a muzzle wider across than a man's width and more than half a meter across at the other end. All made of dark steel of the highest quality as thick as his wrist. It sat there cradled in the thick filings of straws, brooding and ominous in the shadows. It had none of the smooth elegance of the gatling-gun, not even the grace of a well-made rifle or revolver. It was a brute weapon made simply for smashing destruction. This weapon, Kyosuke had seen before. Once. On the only glimpse he had had of an iron frigate, flying a red and blue flag. Lying on the straw, it looked clumsy without its wheel support. But he remembered the fire that had spat from its muzzle, and the devastation that had rained down from it. An Armstrong Cannon. He jumped as Kanzaki kicked the broken box hard. Their leader was breathing hard, his eyes a little wild. "How in...? This should be impossible... they promised... Those bastards!!" They all stared at Kanzaki a bit fearfully. One of the men asked timidly, "K-Kanzaki-san?" "Aa," he bit out, "Pack this all in and move them to the boats. Move quickly! We don't want to get caught by any reinforcements. And we sure don't want them to get these back, do we?" "Hai!" All the men scattered hastily to right overturned boxes, collecting the scattered weapons from broken containers. Gatling-gun. Armstrong Cannon. Iron Frigate. The three ultimate weapons of war. Everybody knew that Bakufu had tried everything to get them, but they had never succeeded. The westerners were quite zealous about keeping this bit of technology exclusive to themselves. At least, until now. As he worked, he swallowed against the sick feeling in his stomach. His insides were roiling like it usually did, just before something bad would happen. The sky was bright and cloudless, but it felt like a storm was coming. Unanswered questions piled up in his mind until he felt like bursting. {Those weapons. why would they be here, in a secret shipment to nowhere? Who had sold this to the government? How many more are there?} And the most important question of all, the question that turned his mouth dry - {Will seifu start to use these against us?} END *** Notes: 1. Japanese terms: Iya = no nandemonai = never mind / nothing et-to = umm /err, delaying phrase seifu = government, referring to the Shogunate here kenkaku = swordsman 2. Guns (muskets and rifles) were already available to Japan since the 16th century, and has been used in the army for almost as long. The early models are single-shots, and not very reliable. But it's quite common to see soldiers equipped with rifles (thank you Serizawa Kamo-san!). Gatling guns and Armstrong cannons were a different matter though ^_^. And steam ships were very difficult to come by, although you could buy one or two from weapons merchants or black market. Shanghai was one such black market. When Takasugi Shinsaku went to Shanghai in 1862, he came back with a ship (obtained without permission from Choshu leaders ^_^, a big stink was raised over it). Okay, mistakes? Stupidities? Boringness? Throw it all over here! ==== Naga --------------------------- ONElist Sponsor ---------------------------- *** Make holiday parties more fun, less stress *** Try seeUthere.com: the easier way to organize great events. Click on FREE OFFER ------------------------------------------------------------------------