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Date Posted: 20:52:00 02/04/08 Mon
Author: Rox
Author Host/IP: c-24-9-183-109.hsd1.wa.comcast.net / 24.9.183.109
Subject: Overlord 2
In reply to: Rox 's message, "Overlord" on 00:24:24 02/04/08 Mon

He bowed his head. "Ohayou," he said then continued in Japanese with, "my most beautiful, morning sun." Sachiko giggled at Mikel's secret endearment, but he pointedly ignored her.

"Is Ohayou, good morning?" Nikita asked.

"Yes. And this is Yoshiko and her sister Sachiko."

"We met briefly this morning. Are they your daughters?"

Mikel wistfully set little Yoshiko on her feet. "No. They are the daughters of one of my men who was killed three years ago. They live here in the compound with their mother Hoshiko and her new husband Shiro." He nodded at the couple in the distance.

"I have so many questions--so much to learn." Nikita's smile set her face aglow.


"Not much to tell, really," Nikita said, looking amazed to see both bacon and eggs on the plate before her. She took a bite of bacon and closed her eyes in bliss. "Ohhhhhh! Real food!"

Mikel smiled, happy to please her but didn't comment.

"I'm sorry. That was rude of me. What I meant to say-well, it's been a long time since I've eaten bacon and eggs." She grinned with embarrassment, a pretty blush stealing into her cheeks.

"How long were you at sea?" Mikel casually sipped his tea and feasted on the sight of her.

"About five months, nearly six. My father was trying to learn to navigate by the stars. Unfortunately, it was harder than he thought it would be."

"But why venture so far from land? What was the purpose of your voyage?"

Nikita's joy over her food faded, and her expression grew more somber. "Things were getting pretty bad at home. There's been a drought for three years and now the Aborigines have begun to expand towards the northern coast."

"Aborigines? What are they?"

"People. People not like us. They have dark, nearly black skin and hair. They were the original occupants of Australia until the English arrived nearly five hundred years ago. Since the dark days of the last war, our peoples have been enemies and they now outnumber us a thousand to one. Dad says it's because they were always closer to the earth. They survived because they knew how to live off the land and we didn't." She paused a moment, then added, "My Uncle Walter says, what goes around, comes around."

"What goes around, comes around?" Mikel asked trying to understand.

"It means….several hundred years ago, we whites took their land from them, and now, they are taking it back."

Mikel remembered reading his grandfather's journals. Hatred between nations and peoples had been the cause of the War of Annihilation, just as it had for earlier wars. No one, it seemed, would ever learn the lessons of history.

"So you came here to find a new home?"

"Not exactly," Nikita continued, "As I said, we landed here by accident. Dad was trying to get to Europe—back to people of our own kind." She gestured at some of Mikel’s soldiers standing nearby. "Are there others here, like us?"

"No, no others," Mikel said. He casually touched a lock of her hair as it fell across her shoulder. The color of it fascinated him. Until now, he had seen its like only in photographs and paintings.

"Then, how did you get here?" she asked, watching as he curled her hair around one finger.

"I was born here, as were my parents and their families," Mikel answered, his fingers savoring the satiny texture of her hair around them. He had touched nothing like it before.

"But what happened to the rest of your family?"

"They died."

"In a war? Is that why there are soldiers everywhere?"

Mikel nodded. "In war, and all the grief it brings with it, starvation, sickness…. The soldiers are here to protect the people from invaders from the north. They come here seeking to take everything we have worked for away from us and they come for our wives and children."

"Have you lost a wife and children?" She stared at him with tender sympathy in her blue eyes.

Mikel almost told her the truth—that he had not been permitted a family, but he didn't want her pity; he wanted her love.

"No. In that, I have been spared. I have never married." He reluctantly let go of the lock of her hair.

Nikita looked surprised by his answer and started to speak, but she was suddenly interrupted when a young man stepped up on the covered porch where they were seated. He bowed to Mikel and began to speak excitedly.

“My lord, we’ve managed to get the north tower working!”

Mikel jumped to his feet at the good news.

“What’s happened?” Nikita asked.

"It's working!" Mikel laughed catching his student’s infectious excitement.

"What's working?" Nikita asked.

Mikel stood and extended his hand. "Would you like to come and see?"

She dabbed her mouth with the cloth napkin from her lap, and said, "Sure!"

Mikel turned to the young man. "Taro, have my horse saddled and saddle Takara for my Lady."

The young man bowed, turned and ran across the grassy lawn towards a distant building.

"I've sent for my horse and one for you," Mikel said.

Nikita smiled as she stood up. "Great! But I have to go and change. I can't ride in this." She ran her hand down her thigh, over the delicate material of her kimono.

"Tell Lady Ayame and she will bring you something to wear. I will await you here," Mikel told her with a bow.
#

Nikita rushed inside her room and quickly wiggled out of her kimono. Her waist length hair got entangled in it and she had to take several moments to untangle it. As she combed it free with her fingers she shivered, remembering the feel of Mikel’s hands on her hair. He had beautiful, gentle hands and the faint tugging on her hair had sent ripples of pleasure down her back.

There had been a moment where she had been uncomfortable, having to answer his questions with subterfuge. The truth was her father was trying to gather lost technologies to help their people win against their enemies.

After the mass slaughter of the war, the epidemics, and plagues, there was a great revulsion for science and technology. People blamed technology for the war, instead of the true enemy, the men who wielded it for their own ends. Thousands were killed simply because they were scientists, engineers, or merely well educated. Since no one could put the proverbial genie back into the bottle, those who had uncorked the bottle and the bottle itself-technology-had to be destroyed. But it was that very technology that her father hoped would give them the edge they needed to survive.

She decided that any dress Lady Ayame would provide would not allow her to ride astride. With that in mind, she opted to wear her own clothes—well-worn jeans and boots—instead.

When Nikita dressed and reappeared on the porch she gave a gasp of delight at what awaited her. Two horses, one coal black, the other a satiny white, had long curly manes and tails, with feathering on their fetlocks. Together, they were the most beautiful horses Nikita had ever seen, quite different than the stock horses she rode at home and the wild Brumbys of the Bush.

Mikel turned just as she stepped off the porch. He stared at her a moment with some surprise at what she was wearing: faded blue pants, nearly skin-tight and a pale blue shirt tucked in at the waist.

"These are my own clothes," Nikita explained seeing his expression. "It's what we wear in Australia for riding."

He nodded then brought the white horse forward. "This is Takara; she is yours."

"Oh, Mikel, she's so beautiful," Nikita reached out and stroked the mare's velvety muzzle, then moved to the curly mane that hung nearly past the point of the horse’s shoulder. Takara's soft brown eyes gave the horse a gentle expression and Nikita immediately fell in love with her.

Looking pleased that she was pleased, Mikel handed her the reins and helped her to mount, before mounting his own horse.

"He's beautiful too, Mikel. What's his name?"

"Kuro."

"So where are we going?" Nikita asked just as six soldiers rode up looking ready for battle.

"To the sea," Mikel said and nudged his stallion forward.

Nikita followed as did the mounted soldiers, who fanned around her and Mikel as an escort.

They rode for what seemed like an hour, passing the sobering wreckage of civilization on the way. Roads and buildings, long abandoned and in disrepair, testified to the folly of war; it muted Nikita's excitement over their destination.

When at last the blue of the ocean stretched over the horizon, Mikel pointed along the shore. Sixteen, tall towers, painted white, dominated the landscape. Atop them were propeller-like objects that turned in the strong coastal breezes.

"What are they?" Nikita asked, as they let their horses rest.

"Wind-driven power for electricity. My father designed them but died before they could be built."

"And you built them?"

"Yes, using salvaged materials from different parts of Nippon. But until now, I was not sure they would work." He stared at them happily.

"My grandfather used a wind-mill to pump water out of our well, but he never thought of using it for electricity. So, what will you use the electricity for?" Nikita asked. Having never had electricity it was hard to imagine exactly what it could be used for.

"Its power will pump water and light the villages for now, but later, we can use it to run the technology that we wish to salvage from the cities."

"What kind of technology?" Nikita asked, knowing this was exactly what her father was hoping for.

"My grandfather spoke of a machine that could almost think; he called it a computer,” Mikel continued. “He said it held libraries full of information, and some computers were so small they could sit in the palm your hand. Then there were machines that played music, held pictures that moved and others that you could speak into and someone on the other side of the world could hear you and speak back to you."

"Sounds like magic," Nikita said, not quite sure she believed it.

Mikel sighed. "Yes. But I have read about these things and seen pictures of them. They existed and one day I hope to make them exist again."

"These wind machines…will they make enough electricity for everyone?"

"No, but I have other projects being built elsewhere, including using volcanic hot springs and a steam engine to generate power, and maybe a way to use ocean waves to do the same."

Nikita glanced back at the towers, and then asked, "Could you show me how they work?"
#

Nikita lay in bed, her thoughts keeping her awake—thoughts of Mikel and the remarkable day they had spent together.

Mikel had showed himself to be intelligent, patient—when explaining the intricacies of the machinery to her—and utterly revered by the men that worked for him. Upon their arrival at the towers, they were greeted by twenty young men all of whom Mikel was teaching to be engineers. Their excitement over their success in getting an electric bulb to glow was matched only by their sincere respect and admiration for their teacher—or sensei, as they called him.

And then there was his sweet gift to little Yoshiko's on her sixth birthday. Nikita smiled as she remembered the look on the tiny girl's face after Mikel told her to close her eyes and hold out her little arms. When she opened them again to find a fluffy, long-eared rabbit, Yoshiko was radiant for the rest of the day. It had been an affectionate and thoughtful present.

And not to be forgotten was his gift of Takara. Nikita was stunned to realize that Mikel hadn’t loaned the mare to her, but meant her to keep it as her own.

Make that intelligent, patient, and generous, Nikita thought.

Whenever he touched her, whenever he looked at her, it seemed to be a caress. Was it just her imagination? Or was she wishing for something that wasn't there?

Nikita's thoughts turned to all she wanted to tell her father about what she'd seen today, then unbidden, her mind jumped to Jurgen and she felt both a little guilty and a little worried. Jurgen had a temper, and now that she thought about it, he was a little more than possessive at times. Perhaps he thought he had a right to be. For years it had been an unspoken understanding that she and Jurgen would eventually marry. After all, there were very few men of marriageable age in the valley where she lived, fewer still that she didn’t tower over. In fact, Jurgen at 6’2” was the only man Nikita had ever been able to actually look up to. Until now, Jurgen was the only man to make her feel petite and protected.

Until now. Nikita sat up abruptly and swallowed hard, remembering the rush of feeling she’d felt when Mikel gallantly bowed and kissed her hand to wish her a good night. It wasn’t that Mikel was tall, in fact she and Mikel were evenly matched in height, but it was the way he treated her, like something fragile and beautiful. Even in jeans and boots, she’d felt small and feminine in his presence.

She dropped back on her pillow and held her head. “Oh, don’t be stupid, Nik,” she scolded. Once her father arrived, they’d have to get back to the business at hand. If they could locate the weapons they were looking for here, great. If not, then when her father repaired their boat, she'd be leaving for Europe with him, Uncle Walter and Jurgen. But the thought of leaving and never seeing Mikel again suddenly hit her like a physical force. She shook her head, trying to deny the feeling.

“You’ve only known this guy for a day.” It was a good argument, but it wasn’t helping. Burying her face into her pillow, Nikita felt overwhelmed with a mixture of guilt and dismay. Her father was counting on her to marry Jurgen. He needed his help on the ranch when they got back…if they got back. But it was still Mikel’s face she saw when she closed her eyes.

"Uncle Walter, where are you when I need you!" she called out to her favorite confidante. You'd know what to do, Nikita thought dismally. Of course Uncle Walter had never really liked Jurgen, but on the other hand, maybe he'd tell her that a bird in the hand was better than none at all?
#

Mikel was restless and couldn't sleep. They'd been together all day and still he missed Nikita and hated the long hours of the night when she was parted from him.

He wondered if there had been any comment made about his bed being made in the library. Surely people noticed.

He contemplated how to tell Nikita that she was to be his wife. His plan had been to get to know each other first, so that she could grow to love him. But would she? And how long need he wait? He loved her so much already that it was difficult to have patience.

Wistfully, Mikel remembered how she had hugged Takara's neck and how envious he had been that it wasn't him those precious arms wound themselves around. But it would be his honor and his head if he were to forget himself. She had to come to him willingly.

Then there was the problem of what one did to please a wife. He knew the mechanics of what happened between the sexes, but had no direct experience. Perhaps the knowledge was instinctual? Considering his body's unruly reaction, he was sure that most of it was. But would that be enough?

There was a way to know. There were always the geishas—those women who were wise in such things—who were unable or too old to conceive, but knowledgeable about love and the making of it. He had but to ask and they could instruct him.

In any case, something had to be done soon. When the shogun sent him to rule in Akigawa's place, Nikita would be expected to go with him. They would be forced to share living quarters on the way there and when they arrived. The fact worried Mikel as much as it made him long for it.

How did he tell her the truth? And would she be agreeable to being at his side and not her father's?

CHAPTER FIVE

The next morning when Nikita awoke, she was dismayed to learn that Mikel had been called away and would not return until late the next evening. She wondered what she was to do all day and decided to go for a ride. Unfortunately, she was dissuaded from doing so when she learned from Lady Ayame that Mikel had left instructions that she be accompanied at all times by four of his men.

Then Nikita remembered that Mikel had spoken of his many books.

"Lady Ayame, where is Mikel's library? Do you think he would mind if I took something to read?"

The old woman smiled and bowed. "Come, I shall take you there."

They left the house and crossed the lawn to the tall building, with the wonderful glass and silver doors.

Lady Ayame explained the building had seven floors. On the ground floor were offices, storage rooms, and Mikel's office and library. The other floors were where his men and their families resided.

When a young servant opened the large double doors of Mikel's library, Nikita's mouth dropped open in awe. Never in her life had she seen so many books. The room was huge, nearly forty feet wide and sixty feet long, and filled with shelves upon shelves of books. A heavy oak desk squatted in the center of the room, and to its left was a wide table, covered with maps and sketches. To the rear of the library were two doors, and at the far end of the room were floor to ceiling windows with a view of the distant, snowcapped mountains.

Nikita grinned. The library could keep her entertained for weeks just browsing for something to read. "Do you think Mikel would mind if I spent the day in here?" she asked Lady Ayame.

The old woman bowed and said, "What is my Lord's is also his Lady's. I will return at noon with food."

Nikita watched her leave, wondering exactly what was meant about her being his Lady. She made a mental note to ask Mikel then succumbed to the lure of exploration.
#

Mikel knelt in a darkened room, his hands folded loosely in his lap. He breathed in deeply, drawing in the smoky scent of sandalwood incense and exhaling it again. Emptying his thoughts, he prepared for love as he did for battle, with his entire being.

A single candle cast a golden glow that illuminated the fragile rice paper screen in front of him. From behind the screen the slender silhouette of a woman dipped low in a respectful bow.

"Konbanwa, Mikel-san," the geisha greeted quietly.

Mikel wished her a good evening also and briefly explained that his impending marriage was the reason for his visit.

"Hai, so the Lady Ayame has told me when she sent word to me. I am most honored to be your teacher, Daimyo."

Mikel bowed to her shadow on the screen, "I am also honored, Lady."

To protect the geisha's anonymity, she explained that Mikel would not be allowed to see her face, and when the time came to touch each other, he would have to submit to being blindfolded. And of course the most important rule was that he could not consummate the physical act with her as he was not Nipponese.

"Do you agree to the contract?" she asked gently.

"Hai. How shall we begin?"

"By first understanding that where a woman is weak, you must be strong, and where a woman is strong, you must not fear to be weak. A woman's heart wishes to be desired, to be honored and treasured. But most of all a woman must feel that she is needed by the man. Some men see this as a weakness, but your vulnerability is your key to her love. Do you understand this?"

"Hai," Mikel replied softly.

"It is also important to know that a woman is body, mind and spirit and all three need to be nurtured. There are more ways to love than the physical, but Lady Ayame has assured me that you already know this to be true." As she spoke, the geisha stood and as Mikel watched her shadow on the screen, she unwrapped the obi that kept her kimono in place. Casting aside the belt, she opened her kimono like a graceful butterfly spreading its wings, and let it slide off her body onto the floor. "And so, we shall begin with the physical." She turned to stand in profile and lifted a graceful arm and touched the column of her neck.

"A man is excited by sight; a woman, by touch. The places and ways to touch are many. A kiss, on the eyelids; the mouth; on the neck beneath the ear…." She touched herself in each place as Mikel watched.

"The breasts, especially the tips…" with a gentle graze of her fingers, her shadowy nipples peaked. "The hands, especially the palms; the wrists; and inside of the elbows…"

Mikel swallowed, imagining the shadow to be Nikita's body, and felt his pulse quickening.

"The belly," she ran her hand slowly across hers, "the spine," she arched her back, her long hair swinging around like a curtain, "and even the soles of the feet. Each woman has favorite places, which you must delight in finding."

The woman knelt. "Now you must cover your eyes with the cloth and I will remove the screen."

Mikel shivered as gentle fingers grazed his skin when they removed his clothing. He could hear her breathing, smell her scent, feel the faint warmth of the candle and her skin; in the darkness all his senses were heightened to an almost painful intensity.

"Now," she said, taking his wrists in her hands, "you must learn to touch…here…" She cupped Mikel's hands over her small breasts, leaving him to test their weight, and mold to their shape. She teased his palms with their hardened tips then gently ordered, "Now, come and taste."

Mikel felt her hands glide behind his neck and gently pull him down to her breast, the tip of which she pressed to his lips. When he took the tip into his mouth, the sound of pleasure she uttered sent the heat of lust through his veins. He pressed her back upon the mat-cushioned floor and began to seek that sound again, experimenting with his tongue to see what else she might do.

Her body was soft against the hard plane of his own; he pillowed his cheek briefly against a velvet breast then explored the valley between it and the other.

"And now for more," she said almost with a sigh, and took his right hand in her own.

Mikel felt smooth skin, a flat belly, then a soft mound surrounded in wiry curls. She cupped his palm against the area and left him to explore.

He found wet satin bathed in a musky fragrance that made his blood sing. She moved his hand and then his fingers in a gentle circle, and then up and down over a small bud nestled in a valley between her legs.

He could hear her breathing becoming labored and felt her body lift against his fingers and drop away again. The action drove him wild with need. In his mind's eye, this was Nikita; this was her warm and desperate for his touch. And he wanted; he wanted so badly! His body was hard and throbbing…

Suddenly, she took his hand, then his index finger.

"Now, this…" she panted softly, "is the joy you must seek to give…" with that she inserted his finger in something soft, and incredibly warm and wet. Almost immediately he heard her breath catch and her body spasm tightly around his finger.

After a tiny moment passed, she touched him, curling her fingers around his hot flesh and squeezing, then letting her thumb slowly caress the moist, sensitive tip.

Mikel wanted her to stop because he felt could no longer control himself yet wanted her to continue because he was in agony of wanting release.

"Think of your lady," she whispered stroking him, and Mikel closed his eyes and gave into his body’s desire.
#

Nikita walked through the aisles of shelving, and scanned the titles of the books. At first, she was dismayed to find they were all written in Japanese. But as she continued to search, she found one small section where the books were in English. Overjoyed, she began to read the titles, looking for something interesting to read.

"Anatomy…Basic Electricity…Carpentry…Fixing Household Appliances…" She frowned, and then laughed to read, "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Knitting and Crocheting? The Complete Idiot's Guide to Calculus…Physics…Chemistry? What's with all the stuff for idiots?"

There were well over a dozen books on mechanical engineering, one ponderous title read: Cooling Systems for Power, Petrochemical and Processing Plants. Nikita rolled her eyes and continued to dig.

She came across some books on biology and zoology then smiled at a familiar book, The Encyclopedia of Horses. She pulled it from the shelf and tucked it beneath one arm; another followed, on the subject of the history of Renaissance Europe—she liked the art work on the cover.

Since both books were heavy, Nikita took them over to the desk and set them down. She started to leave to look for other books when she saw a pencil drawing of Yoshiko and her sister. Beneath it was a stack of other drawings, some were of people she had already met, to include Lady Ayame; others were of machines, with notations and mathematical equations in the margins. Had Michael drawn them? Nikita smiled. They were very good.

On the desk next to the drawings were three large, 3-ring binders, numbered volume one through three, and labeled "The War". Nikita opened the first one and saw handwritten pages in English—a journal, with a beginning date of nearly one hundred years ago. The very first sentence drew her on to read:

Feb 8, 2053

The sky is blue; the sun is brilliant in the sky; and the world is dying.

As I write these words, I am not sure there will be anyone left to read them. But if there is any who survive, then it is for their sake I put them down. The world of man was a brilliant achievement, even if it failed. Now, all that is important to know is why it failed. We wedded blind hatred with supreme arrogance. In short, we outsmarted ourselves.

It started with a biological attack on the United States and Europe, two years ago. At first everyone assumed it was simply an extreme case of the flu, like the pandemic that killed 40 million in 1918. We were overdue, the scientists said. But the odd thing about this flu, only Caucasians were dying; other racial groups only suffered mild symptoms. It took eight months to learn the virus had been genetically engineered to be lethal to people carrying specific genomes. No one knows for sure, but it's been estimated that 160 million died in the first three months. They lost count after that.

It had been introduced into the food supply and shipped to major metropolitan areas. Once the cause was known, it was leaked to the public, and mass panic ensued. The only foods thought safe to eat were meats, as the virus had been introduced into grains and other field grown foods. But there wasn't enough food, and those who didn't die of the virus found themselves starving. Governments in the North America and in Europe eventually had to declare martial law and sealed their borders. For several months, there were planes stolen and the world watched as terrified people seeking safety in South America, Australia, and Asia, the only areas not yet affected were shot down to prevent them from spreading the virus further.

The number and speed of the deaths from the virus eventually collapsed the economies of the United States, Canada and Western Europe. The remainder of the world has followed and no world leader has been able to maintain control, as their armies are deserting, and using their weapons to protect their own families.

A Middle Eastern terrorist group arrogantly called the virus, the Judgment of Allah. Believing the Muslims were guilty of creating the virus, renegade military units in America and Germany retaliated, using neutron weapons to destroy Saudi Arabia, Indonesia, Iran, Iraq, Egypt, Syria, and even their former ally, Turkey.

The last news we had of the outside world was of armed gangs moving through major cities looting and killing anyone that stood in their way. In August, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and San Diego were burned to the ground by rioters, as were Paris, Rotterdam, London and Berlin. Doctors, scientists, anyone with technical knowledge about genetics, or science in general were rounded up and killed as the mobs demanded retribution for the pestilence that had been unleashed upon the world. The mindlessness of these acts; those people were our only hope of finding a cure. The last news we had, the virus had mutated killing everyone once considered immune. White Russians, trying to escape Europe's fate, invaded China, bringing death with them. Based on that knowledge, I believe Korea followed, and they in turn have brought it here to Japan.

Since December, all has been silent. I suspect a war in space has destroyed most if not all the communication satellites, either that or everyone who works in those fields has died and there is no one left to keep them working, Phones, radio, and television, are silent. We have no fuel left and power plants have long since shut down.

Japanese cities, so tightly populated have become dark and silent cities of the dead. Only those few of us out in the isolated cold of the mountains have been spared. But we are slowly starving. Our only hope is to survive until spring. But I wonder if it is even worth it to live. What is left for us? What is left for anyone?
#

Nikita reflected on the words of the long dead writer. The virus had spared her homeland. It had killed so many, so fast but there had been time to block entry into the country by those who might have been infected. But Australia suffered in other ways. Since the food supply was suspect, much was of it was deliberately destroyed, and the rest was horded. People starved, riots broke out, and many died from panic and insurrection. The worldwide disruption in trade cut off imports of oil and other fuels. The wealthy took most all the boats and tried to make it to China, which at that time was believed to be still unaffected by the disease and disaster.

Machinery and vehicles fell into disuse without fuel to power them. Power grids failed, there was mass unemployment, and eventually, as it had in other parts of the world, the blame fell on the scientists and the government. The Green party insisted everyone give up technology and return to nature, what was left of it. But few people had the knowledge and skills to live off the land. Most ranchers survived—they had livestock and still had weapons. Once they used them to kill dingoes, then they used them to kill invaders from the cities. And there were farms in distant, isolated areas impossible to reach on foot, which managed to feed themselves and survived as well. But people living in urban areas suffered terribly from want and armed groups that killed to live. Her father told her dark stories of rumored cannibalism in Sydney, and along the southern coast.

But this was all in the distant past. Life for Nikita had been relatively happy, if somewhat lonely. There were sixteen families in the area where she lived. They all worked hard, and by sharing, managed to make a simple life for themselves. Time had been taken to educate their children, and every skill was taught to all. Nikita knew how to shear sheep, shoe horses, hunt, fish, ride, tan hides, find water in the desert, build furniture, cook, sew and sail a boat, a skill her grandfather, once in the Australian Navy, passed down to her father and he to her. But they had to relearn to do many other things. When their clothes ran out, they experimented with building looms, to weave the wool from their sheep, and cotton into cloth. When they could find the proper clay, they learned pottery, but glass making had proved more difficult. They knew glass was made from sand, but how it was made had only recently been rediscovered, and the results were extremely poor.

Things had been relatively peaceful for the families until last May, when the first attacks by the Aborigines began. After the war, the Aborigines had returned to their old ways and thrived. So much so, that one of their tribal leaders decided now was the time to reclaim their ancestral lands from the few remaining whites. To survive, many white families took all they could in carts and evacuated their ranches and farms for the northern coast. But everyone expected their enemies would soon follow and drive them into the sea. A meeting was held, and it was decided someone had to find a way to fight them and drive them back. A large sailboat, that had run aground years ago in a storm and abandoned, became the catalyst for Nikita's trip to Japan. Her father's mission was to bring back modern weapons, and anything else, with which to reclaim their homes and property. Mostly, they were looking for ammunition. They had rifles, but with no gunpowder or bullets left, they were useless.

And now, she and her father and the others were stuck in Japan…
#

"There are many ways to kiss," his gentle teacher said as she and Mikel knelt together, face to face. In demonstration, her tongue teased his lips apart, entered and gently stroked the roof of Mikel's mouth.

"Now you," she whispered.

In answer, Mikel leaned down, cupped her face between his hands, and began taking tiny sample kisses before plunging inside hungrily.

A moment later, with a smile in her voice, she critiqued, "Your lady will be very pleased, my Lord. In this, you need no further instruction."

"What else do I need to know to please my Lady?"

"Nothing more that I can teach you. The rest you must learn with her. The only other thing you should know is that love is a gift. It cannot be demanded; it can only be freely given. Cherish her and she will cherish you. And never take love for granted, for once it is gone, seldom will it return." She stroked her soft hand across his morning growth of beard in farewell.

"I am in your debt." Mikel said, taking the geisha's hand and gently kissing it in gratitude. He felt her withdraw her hand and listened as she gathered her kimono and dressed. The sound of the rice-paper screen being replaced signaled that he could undo the blindfold.

"The dawn is breaking. I wish you well, my Lord."

The last Mikel saw of her was her faint shadow on the screen as she gutted the candle, and exited the room into the hallway, just as she had entered. The light that was extinguished was replaced by the rosy light of the morning sun in the window behind him. Naked, Mikel stood, opened the exterior door, and stared out into the fragrant gardens of the o-chaya. He stretched his lean body in the fresh morning air and despite having no sleep the night before, felt invigorated and hopeful. Now he could woo Nikita in earnest.

#
June 1, 2054

We are still alive, but that is all we are. Alive. Pockets of people have been seeking each other out. Perhaps it's because we need each other, or perhaps we want all of this to end. If we die, we die. But the pestilence seems to have burned itself out, or perhaps mutated once again into a non-lethal form. At least there have been no recent deaths related to the virus. More often we die of exposure or hunger.

What have we done?!

We could fly! We visited the Moon and Mars! We built magnificent cities, bridges, and communication systems. We constructed machines to do dangerous and difficult work, so we had time to enjoy the fruits of our labors.

After centuries of creeping death, we found the cure for the common cold, and cancer, and even heart disease. Medicines kept us alive and genetics allowed us to expand the time we spent in youth. Our potential life spans had increased to 120 years for men and women.

And for what purpose did we do all of this?

Trillions of man-years of work have ended in the dust. For all our supposed intelligence, the only thing we couldn't change was our human nature. Our bodies were healthy and beautiful—it made us decadent and vain; our minds were educated and often brilliant, but seldom were they wise; and the only love to be found was for ourselves.

Religions tried to expose us to our faults and we twisted the wisdom of every one of them to do exactly the opposite of what they taught.

I am a true Christian he said, as he allowed millions of non-Christians to starve and live in crushing poverty, while he drove his newest million dollar car, and believed God was a genie in a lamp to do his bidding.

I am a true Muslim, he said. I speak for God when I murdered the children of those who refused to agree with me. I used my oil money to buy bombs to make my point, when that money could have built schools and hospitals, and alleviated the hunger and suffering of my people.

Everyone had a Cause but we lost sight of the fact that love should have been our Cause. The cure for all our ills was love; our songs were full of the word; our greatest philosophers, artists and scholars all recognized the fact-why couldn't the rest of us?

If there is a God, how dare we lay the blame at His door? It isn't as if He didn't warn us this would happen. We collectively laughed and ran to our destruction with our fingers in our ears.

Is there forgiveness for any of us now? Do we have the heart to start anew? Or will we only do the same things over again and again?

Nikita sighed over the sad words, then yawned and wearily closed the notebook. She’d been reading Mikel’s grandfather’s journals all night, barely pausing even to eat. So many questions she’d had as a child found answers in his words. How awful it must have been in those days. Exhausted, she pushed the heavy binder of words to the foot of her bed and curled up to sleep.

CHAPTER SIX

"So? What do you think?" Walter asked as he and his brother dismounted for the evening.

"Swords and bows. Everything we've seen so far has been stripped. If there ever was any ammunition, it's most likely all gone now," Phillip responded.

"Yeah, but wasn't gun powder invented here?"

Phillip shook his head. "You're thinking of China. That's farther north."

"Well, I wonder how much farther we have to go? The farther we get from the boat, the more nervous I get," Walter continued.

"I don't see that we have a lot of choice in the matter," Phillip said with a sigh. "This is our only hope of finding Nikita. I'm not about to leave here without her."

Jurgen stood nearby and looked around as he removed his horse's bridle. "I wonder where all the women are," he commented.

"What do you mean?" Walter asked, folding his arms in irritation.

"Women. We haven't seen any women this entire trip," Jurgen repeated.

"-or children either," Phillip added, with an absent nod.

"Well, unless these men are very, very old, there have to be some, somewhere," Walter retorted, with a raised eyebrow. "And if I were you, I wouldn't be looking too hard."

Jurgen made a face. "I've been looking for Nikita."

"Uh huh," Walter mumbled under his breath.

"So, what's the game plan when we do find Nikita?" Jurgen asked, addressing Phillip.

"Hopefully we can do a little trading, get our boat seaworthy again, and continue our mission to get to Europe. I doubt we are going to find what we need here."

"Oh, I don't know," Walter said, looking around. "Looks like a nice place to live to me. At least it's green."
#

Nikita was breakfasting alone on the porch, watching with some fascination the ranks of young men who were fighting hand-to-hand on the lawn, when she spied Mikel on his horse in the distance. She smiled widely and was still smiling when he dismounted and handed Kuro's reins to a servant.

Mikel looked tired, but he returned her smile as he bid her good morning and gently kissed her hand.

Nikita blushed but was delighted. "I missed you last night. I spent most of it in your library. I've never seen so many books. Where did you go?"

"I had some arrangements to make for this evening. When it gets dark, I have a surprise planned." His eyes dropped and Nikita realized he still held her hand. His thumb rubbed the top of it gently as he gazed at it.

"W-what kind of surprise?" Nikita finally had the courage to ask.

"Something I've waited a long time for," he said, cryptically.

"But I have to wait to find out, right?"

He simply smiled.

"So, what are they doing?" Nikita withdrew her hand and gestured to the men on the lawn.

"Aikido," Mikel explained. "It means 'The Way of Harmony of the Spirit'. It is a form of combat that focuses on using your opponents own energy to gain control of them or to throw them away from you."

"Mikel, is your country still at war?"

"Does the idea of war frighten you?" he asked softly.

"Yes. Doesn't it you?"

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