After a short, shallow sleep, Sayuri woke in the early hours of the morning to Fukuzawa making tea. She walked to the bridge, her blanket wrapped around her.

“When is breakfast?”

“I don’t figure we’ll be eating it. We’re gonna skedaddle as soon as I fix my morning tea.”

Milly was awake and perched on the bow watching the forest. She came down when the tea was ready and poured some apple wine into the bottom of the tea and set it aside. Fukuzawa and Sayuri finished theirs quickly, which was the only speed Sayuri could stomach the over-steeped, low-quality leaf water, and they continued their journey.

Thomas only roused once they had been on the river for an hour or so and Milly went to take care of him while Sayuri bombarded Fukuzawa with questions about driving a boat. It seemed the sort of skill she might need if she wished to make good on her vow. The learning objective today was demystifying the various instruments.

He showed her the depth sounder and had her point out where along the river the little troughs and peaks corresponded to with her own eyes. He showed her the engine gauges and refused to proceed until she could describe what was happening in the pumpjet when he pulled the throttle. He showed her the radar and made her call out the obstacles that blipped across it. And finally, he showed her the ZCKSI unit.

“I know what that is at least,” Sayuri said in Kaihongo. “My family’s planes all have one.”

“Do you know how it works?”

“I am ashamed to say I do not, merely its function. Is it not based on radio technology?”

“Basically. But do you know who is sending what where?”

She shook her head.

“Well, lass, this little thingamabob,” Fukuzawa tapped the black rubber antenna in the piloting console, “is talking with space. Or some of our machines up there.”

“I know what satellites are, Mr. Fukuzawa.”

“Huh, and I thought you whipper-snappers forgot we’d gone to space after they canceled the Kaguya Program.”

“You may recall the Ueichi clan was involved in grants and parts production,” Sayuri said.

“And pullin’ those grants later on. Anyhow, this little radio sits and listens for our five satellite friends up there who tell him where he is. Maybe it seems pedestrian to you, but I think it’s incredible what we accomplished.”

“It is, Mr. Fukuzawa, but if five satellites do the job just fine, why should we have continued flying missions? There was no point in spending a hundred times what we had already invested just to visit a moon which we can confirm by spectroscopy has no prospective return on investment.”

“Oh, the lass knows the word spectroscopy, does she? Well, Ms. Ueichi, some things are worth paying for, even if you don’t make any money, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think we ought to have gone to the moon anyway. Just to do it.”

“The clan-conglomerates would have had to explain to family and investors why they were wasting money on the Kasetomi Emperor’s pipe dream. For all we know, it may not be possible to go to the moon due to material constraints, even with unlimited energy.”

“When I said “we,” I didn’t mean the clan-conglomerates” Fukuzawa said.

They were veering into uncomfortable politics again. If she talked long enough, Fukuzawa inevitably veered in that direction. Like a well-built dike, he could channel any conversation back into politics if he was in the mood.

“Our race could’ve done it, Ms. Ueichi. I know that.”

“The Kaihonjin?”

“No, the human one.”

“The ZCKSI is very impressive, Mr. Fukuzawa.”

The lesson ended at that. She expected an awkward silence to follow, but instead they came upon the peculiar sight of a woman at the end of a cement pier waving a yellow garment and yelling something inaudible at them.

“You mentioned river pirates, Mr. Fukuzawa,” Sayuri said, switching to Afugo.

“That’s Birch Home. They’re not pirates, but they’re also not all that friendly.”

“They do not own the land they live on,” Sayuri guessed.

He nodded.

As the boat drew closer, more people appeared at the shore and on the pier, adding their voices to the woman’s until it seemed as though all of Birch Home awaited their approach. There was no doubt in Sayuri’s mind that this village was in trouble if they were forfeiting productive work hours to flag down a strange boat.

Sayuri’s thumb throbbed. “We ought to see what they want.”

“No. Awful idea,” Milly said.

“But—! Mr. Fukuzawa, please talk some sense into her.”

Fukuzawa shook his head. “I know I said they’re not pirates, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to get involved. Best mind our own business.”

“What harm is there in mere inquiry? Perhaps they will request something which it would hardly put us out to give.”

Fukuzawa glanced at Milly and shrugged. “No harm in asking, I s’pose.”

Milly shook her head in disbelief. “Did we forget about the conglomerate chasing us? The one that almost caught us last night? How about the dwindling supplies? And I can promise you, they’re not waving us down to ask for a itty-bitty, tiny favor. We shouldn’t chain ourselves to unnecessary commitments.”

“Was that not how your brothel was run?” Sayuri asked.

“What?”

“Was it not the case that you all looked after each other? This seems precisely the sort of moral imperative which you now object to.”

“Sayuri, shut the fuck up,” the woman said. “You’ve never done a gods-damned thing for anybody but sit on your ass and get treated like a princess, so you do not talk to me about any fucking moral imperatives!”

The outburst startled Sayuri and made the blood run out of her. Yesterday, they had seemed to reach a place of mutual respect and understanding, but the woman’s words now suggested the exact opposite. Was this what she had spent the day brooding upon? It was as though the woman had completely different dispositions which she oscillated wildly between.

Fukuzawa sighed. “It’s free to hear ‘em out, innit? Might as well.”

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The woman stomped off to lean against the stern gun mount. Sayuri thought there was something humorous about trying to stomp off on a boat only 12 meters long.

Fukuzawa eased the Daisagi-Maru towards the pier until they were within speaking distance of the crowd of villagers.

“Hullo!”

“Please, you have to help! Th-they— they took—”

The woman with the yellow handkerchief paused to wipe tears from her eyes. When she tried to speak again, her throat choked the words in their cradle.

“Pirates kidnapped Hilda’s child for ransom,” said an older man at the front of the crowd. He carried with him a subtle aura of authority which Sayuri immediately perceived. A village chief? She wasn’t sure how their peculiar, sub-legal municipality was hierarchically arranged.

The village head stepped up beside the woman and placed his hand on her shoulder. “We know you folks got no stake in our affairs, but there’s nothing we can do. We don’t have the money to pay them, and we don’t have the guns to get her back ourselves.”

“I’m certain there is something we can do,” Sayuri said.

“No! No, no, you shut your mouth right now,” Milly said, barging back over from the stern to the side facing the hapless villagers. She looked at them with a hard face. “I am sorry this happened to you, but we can’t help.”

“Milly, they—”

“Enough, girl! We don’t have money to pay the ransom and we can’t go fight a bunch of pirates.”

“But what about…” Sayuri circled her powdered face.

“No. End of discussion.”

“We have to help them.”

This last murmur came from a half-conscious Thomas whose gaze fluttered this way and that. Sayuri wasn’t entirely sure if he knew what he was saying, but that wouldn’t stop her from capitalizing on it.

“You heard him! He said we should help them.”

In a choking sob, the mother said, “please! We don’t know if anyone else will come down the river, a-and—”

“We’ll help,” Sayuri said with finality. Etiquette, when its grammar was well-understood, was a subtle weapon. It was one of the few which she knew how to wield.

Milly balled her fists. “Wh— You!”

Fukuzawa stepped in-between them. “We’ll see what we can do, but don’t get your hopes up.”

The mother covered her mouth. “Oh thank you, thank Ethylturf!”

“We’ll help you dock and fill you in on what we know,” the village headsman said. Once they were moored and the villagers let down a gangway, Fukuzawa and Sayuri disembarked.

“Not comin’ with us lass?” Fukuzawa asked.

Milly glared from the bridge. “Someone has to stay with our lump of brain damage to make sure he doesn’t commit us to more dangerous sidetracks.”

Thomas had already fallen back asleep. It felt somewhat deceptive to leverage his concussed mumblings, but Sayuri was sure he would agree with the decision once he returned to a proper state of mind.

“Who are you if you don’t mind my asking? I recognize your boat, but you’ve never stopped here,” the village headsman asked as Sayuri and Fukuzawa followed the crowd up the shore.

“Name’s Shuuichiro Fukuzawa. Call me Shuu. I go up and down the river, mostly ferrying folks, like this young lady here. She’s headed down to Barton-upon-Glær. The other two are a couple I'm carrying down to Éstfýr,” he said.

The headsman held out his hand. “Bada of Suigen. Nice to make your acquaintance, Shuu. And the lady you agreed to help…”

“Hilda. But I think you might’ve already given my name, Bada,” the mother said.

Fukuzawa shook her hand as well, which seemed strange. According to Sayuri’s textbook, Æfrian etiquette had it that men bowed, and women curtsied. Perhaps it was a matter of class. It appeared the entire village, including its elite strata in Bada, adhered to a common, working-class code of conduct.

“What is your position, if I may inquire, sir?” Sayuri asked.

“My position? Hel, I guess I’m the receptionist. I’ve been out in the world a bit more, though I haven’t been back to Suigen in decades. It’s been all hands on deck since IMR pulled out and left us with no jobs and a lotta pirates.”

“IMR, eh? They owned the logging camp?” Fukuzawa asked.

“Until freight went overland, yup. Technically it’s still Imperial land we’re standing on, but it doesn’t matter much since they’re not using it. I see that Imperial flag of yours, but we’re not harmin’ nobody or nothing out here and we always replant His Augustness’ trees, so no harm no foul, right? He takes His cut by taxes at point of sale anyhow.”

Sayuri was genuinely curious what Fukuzawa’s reaction would be to tree-poaching on the Emperor’s land, but he gave the same noncommittal shrug he always gave and said, “if it’s important to His Augustness, I’m sure someone’ll come along and requisition it.”

Bada’s face wasn’t fully at ease, but he slapped Fukuzawa on the back anyway. “Aye. And people are taken care of here, maybe better than in the city under that Shroud.”

Bada, Hilda, Sayuri, and Fukuzawa along with a couple other villagers piled into a one-room cottage partitioned by a flimsy wooden wall into a kitchen/dining area and a bedroom with a large bed and a crib. It appeared a man lived here as well, though none of the men seemed intimate with Hilda.

They sat down at the table with an unraveled scroll of parchment paper laid out across it. Drawn on it was a hasty sketch of trees, a river with a few boats, and a small, diamond-shaped camp with around 20 tents inside an unmarked wall.

“Here’s what Edgar returned with,” Bada said. “They’re camped about four kilometers downriver. There’s 30 or so of them, but there could be more. Four boats, all motorized. They’re on a hill and they’ve got cars surrounding the camp for walls. We don’t know which tent Hilda’s baby might be in, and the little thing isn’t any bigger than a pumpkin, so it’s not hard to keep her outta sight.”

“They’re armed I take it?” Fukuzawa asked.

“To the gills,” said a young man who was probably Edgar. “They got at least three 14mm machine guns and the rest have rifles. And I’m not talkin’ any Zukunashi black-powder trash, I’m talkin’ continental surplus.”

Sayuri was familiar with the gun he was referring to, though the name escaped her. It was an ugly, gray thing resembling two metal pipes welded together with a trigger, magazine, and pinewood stock glued on. It was ubiquitous in news broadcasts because the continental states across the channel from Æfria manufactured and exported their variations on the assault rifle to whoever would buy. Thus, it tended to make it into the hands of terrorists and insurgents.

“And how much are they asking?”

“100 gin,” Hilda said, her face now more furious than upset, “as though a little woodcutting village like ours would have even half that much in all our pockets!”

Fukuzawa whistled. “Hell of a price, even for river pirates. They’ve gotta know ya can’t pay it. D’ya think they’d drop it down to whatever ya have?”

Hilda shook her head. “No, they’re desperate because they’ve been paying off Kintoki for this stretch of the river. We think Kintoki raised the price cuz of the fighting with Genji.”

“That’s gotten all the way down here, has it?” Fukuzawa asked.

“Been planes comin’ up and down the river for a few days now,” Bada said. “We’ve been followin’ it on the radio. Genji’s holed up in Suigen, Kintoki in Éstfýr, and both are staying on their side of Burnehithe. Kintoki’s probably pressin’ the pirates for sailors and handed ‘em a price tag they couldn’t pay so their conscription looks legal on paper. But the pirates are callin’ their bluff and tryna pay with gold. That’s our guess, anyhow.”

“We’ll have a talk about what we can do,” Fukuzawa said, standing up.

“Anything you can do, Mr. Shuu, anything at all! Even if it’s just negotiating an extension,” Hilda said.

Sayuri was silent on the return trip to the Daisagi-Maru. Her veins were frozen over with the realization of her inadequacy. A sincere wish to help, it seemed, was not necessarily much of a help at all.

As they arrived at the gangplank, Sayuri cleared her voice and spoke in Kaihongo, “erm, regrettably, any newborn plan has yet to emit its birth cry.”

Fukuzawa chuckled. “I sussed that, lass.”

“What is she saying now?” Milly said.

“Would you like to translate for her?” Fukuzawa asked.

Sayuri walked past Milly, ignoring her, and sat down cross-legged on the pilot’s seat, pretending to gaze across the river. “No, she’ll say something rude.”

“Out with it!” Milly said.

“I said we don’t have a plan yet.”

“In a few more words than that,” Fukuzawa added, unnecessarily.

“I’d like to hear those few more words,” Milly said.

“No you wouldn’t. She was just saying it in a roundabout kind of way.”

Sayuri finally looked Milly in the eyes. There was no point in playing these games with her. “I said it is regrettable that hitherto a plan of action has yet to coalesce. Are you satisfied now?”

“No, I am not. Because, Ms. Regrettably-Has-No-Plan, we agreed to a promise we can’t keep! You gave these people false hope before you even knew what you could do for them. That is worse, far, far worse, than just passing them by. Do you understand?”

Sayuri did not understand, largely because she did not even agree. Better to offer one’s help and discover in the process that one’s help was insufficient than never to try at all. But that was a full argument, with all the attendant time-wasting, so she declined to argue on those terms.

“We have all night to—”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

At that, Thomas emitted a hideous sounding moan like a death rattle.

“Sorry, Thomas. Didn’t mean to wake you,” Milly said.

“Izmgay,” he babbled.

After this, Fukuzawa started the grill and roasted some potatoes and carrots. Sayuri tried her best to eat dinner, but her mind was on how they were to save the woman’s baby. She knew it could be done, because it must be done, and that was enough. She would come up with something, even if the plan took the whole night to utter its first cries.