Drone Command

“Stretching and bending, every day!” He laughed and patted Ikki’s round belly. “Don’t forget! Or you’ll be a fat man in a wheelchair way too soon.”

Ikki explained to him again how to activate both GoPro cameras, the one in the cockpit facing him and the one on the cowling facing forward, but Sanjuro remembered everything. His mind was as sharp as his eyes. An overactive bladder was the only thing that bothered him. No matter. Today was a short flight.

Ikki pulled out his own video camera. Flipped open the screen. Held it up and hit the record button. “Ready, Great-grandfather?”

“It’s a beautiful day to fly, isn’t it?” He smiled like a child at play, a mouth full of crooked teeth beneath his mustache.

“Yes, it is.”

They chatted briefly as Sanjuro tested the stick and rudder pedals. Ikki was Sanjuro’s favorite great-grandchild, now a grown man, though he thought of him as a boy. Ikki was crazy about flying just like Sanjuro was. Sat at his feet for hours and listened to the old man’s stories, especially about the war. Sanjuro talked most about the friends he lost, much younger than Ikki at the time, loyal and brave in service to the emperor. Sanjuro was grateful that Ikki was attentive to his stories. His friends would live a while longer in Ikki’s heart long after he was gone, even if only as Sanjuro’s memories.

Sanjuro adjusted his hachimaki, then pulled on his head gear. Smiled brightly into Ikki’s camera. Ikki smiled back and shut it off.

“Good luck and good flying, Great-grandfather.” He patted Sanjuro’s shoulder. The old man squeezed his great-grandson’s hand.

“It’s an easy trip. Don’t worry.”

Minutes later, the white aircraft lifted off, captured in Ikki’s viewfinder. Sanjuro must have sensed it. He wiggled the Mitsubishi’s wings, waving good-bye.

* * *

The television screen flashed LIVE! BREAKING NEWS!

The two attractive Japanese television anchors, a man and a woman, spoke in rapid, breathless urgency. A video flashed on the screen behind them. A GoPro camera image of the Chinese oil-drilling ship as seen from above through the flickering shadow of a spinning prop blade.

The young woman announced, “Moments ago, Mr. Sanjuro Sakai—”

The drilling ship grew larger and larger as the camera sped toward the platform.

“Industrialist, family man, and Japan’s second-oldest pilot—”

The camera plunged into the drill ship’s steel deck, a last-second blur of scattering jumpsuits and steel rigging before the image cut to black.

“Crashed his aircraft today in an apparent suicide attack on the Chinese oil-drilling ship Tiger II, in the disputed waters of the Senkaku Islands.”

The television image cut away from the anchors. Ikki’s video loop filled the screen. Played again. This time with audio. Sanjuro’s voice cried out as the plane plummeted toward the Tiger II, “Banzai! Banzai! BANZAI!”

The male anchor appeared on screen. “No word yet from the Chinese government concerning the extent of the damage. A Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force spokesman just released a statement that the ship caught fire from the strike, but that the fire appears to be under control.”

A new image flashed on the monitor behind them. Sanjuro’s smiling face, crinkled and bright, flashing his crooked teeth beneath a rakish silver mustache. He stood in his baggy green aviator’s jumpsuit and hachimaki—a white headband with a rising sun and kanji that read FOR JAPAN! In the background, his white Mitsubishi A6M, the fabled Zero fighter aircraft of World War II legend, gleamed in the sunlight, a bright red sun painted on the fuselage.

The anchorwoman held up a sheet of paper. Other images of Sanjuro flashed behind her, including an Imperial Army photo of seventeen-year-old Sanjuro in the same jumpsuit standing in front of the same kind of airplane, a nearly duplicate image — all carefully crafted by Ikki.

“I have in my hands a copy of the letter he gave to his great-grandson Ikki Sakai just moments before he departed on his fateful journey. It reads, in part, ‘Do not weep for me. Rejoice! It is a beautiful death, to die for one’s country. For today I join my brave comrades who flew their Zeros into the teeth of another invader. We are all delicate flowers, and in the end, our sweet fragrance must fade.’”

The beautiful young woman, a former actress, choked up at the last words and wiped away a tear. She continued reading, inspired. “‘Japan! Do not fear the Dragon. Resist him, and he shall flee. The divine wind shall drive him from our waters. Death is not the end. Do not fear it. But shame will last forever. Fight!’”