Imperious

New Year's Eve, 1967, midnight. 10 degrees south and 105 degrees east of nowhere. This close to the equator, humidity stifled the night and all the creatures unable to sleep. A storm would be welcome.

Swaying from too much saki, Governor Haruki Ando led the sweaty New Year countdown, several seconds behind a large wall clock.

“Go, shi, san, ni, ichi!” he bawled. The crowd cheered disjointedly, some following the clock and not the drunken governor.

Ando grabbed more saki from a kiwi houseboy and pushed towards the French doors. Red and white fireworks burst in brilliant flashes.

“We make the sun rise at night!” he shouted to no one in particular, thrusting his arm to the sky and spilling alcohol over the young couple standing next to him. They backed away without a word, the wife disappearing to the bathroom.

The usual entourage filled the elegant, ground floor of Government House. Most men wore Imperial uniforms, mainly army but a few naval, like the governor. Big band music from ancient speakers battled thick air and the crowd. No one was dancing. Ceiling fans spun a rhythmic beat, failing to clear a tobacco plume that shifted in slow swirls.

Women were the minority, outnumbered 2 to 1. Only wives of permanent residents or military officers were allowed to live on Christmas Island. Some English mining engineers conversed on the sidelines. A small representation from the local Chinese and Malay community stood together, not talking to anyone.

Spotting his wife, Ando called to her and raised his saki in salute. Ichika glanced at him, flashed a shadow smile, then resumed flirting with Kaito, the new Police Captain. The Governor fumed. Not jealous but angry at the public slight. Many of his inferiors noticed the exchange, including Kaito, who nodded at Ichika but felt Ando’s stare burning hot on his neck.

Ichika was a fine-looking woman. At 46 some tell-tale age signs showed, wrinkles on her neck and arms and silvery hair roots, but she fought the battle well. Her figure slim and graceful. Make-up, a bit overdone in the older woman's way, didn’t quite hide the puffiness around her eyes. She ordered concealing powder in bulk from the Australian colonies. No longer the sweet Honshu virgin but well able to fascinate a bachelor Captain of Police. She touched Kaito on the arm, dominating their conversation.

Haruki wondered how long since she paid him such attention. Needing fresh air he weaved across the manicured lawn to the lookout over Flying Fish Cove. The fresh ocean smell relaxed him, reminded him of happy days in the Navy. Flash and smoke from the fireworks dissipated, revealing a night sky filled with an impossible number of stars. The beauty of the scene penetrated his saki-fogged brain. The heavens seemed so close in the tropics. Close enough to touch or drown yourself in. What if every star hosted a parallel universe?

The harbour was quiet, the only noise the regular soft splash of waves against the cliff and muffled music from the big house. Lights from the Malay Kampong lit the beach and parts of the cove. A half-moon silhouetted a phosphate ship tethered at the cantilever. Yellow lights glowed on the jetty adding to the pleasing scene. There was no breeze but a sense of coolness rose from the wet cliffs and ocean.

Haruki breathed slowly and drank in the harbour, taking a sip of saki. He remembered steaming into this beautiful cove for the first time. A lowly marine, part of the invasion force taking Christmas Island from the English in 1942.

The 25 year anniversary of that glorious day just a few months away!

There had been little action. After a couple of days of Naval shelling, one low-level attack from the Imperial Air Force and the English had meekly surrendered, more concerned at the disgraceful behaviour of their police. The Sikh constables judged which way the cards were falling and mutinied, slaughtering five of their English overlords while they slept. The remaining Europeans were shipped off to the joys of Surabaya internment a few months later. The Sikhs were put to work cleaning phosphate bins, they had shown their value.

That was not the story he told when asked about his war in the Officer's Mess, nothing wrong with embellishing the truth, just a little bit. His battles were far more interesting with the re-telling. His own role magnified intensely.

The glorious victory at Midway had finally crushed American aggression in the Pacific and a period of expansion and consolidation followed. Hitler's lightning triumph over the USSR in the Summer of 1943, sealed the fate of the godless Russian state along with their criminal Western allies. He had lived on this rock in the middle of the Indian Ocean for most of his life. Left the Navy not long after the end of the war.

When Victory was declared he transferred to the Engineering and Mining Department on Christmas Island. Driven and ruthless, he crushed all competitors for promotion by any means necessary. Working his way up the ranks to become Chief Engineer.

He supervised the shipment of millions of tonnes of raw phosphate rock home to hard-working Japanese farmers and millions more to all the extra hard working colonials on the Pacific possessions. He was extremely proud of his achievements. Three years ago, his long record of impeccable service had been recognised by the powerful Navy Trade minister, who recommended his appointment as Christmas Island Governor to the Emperor.

Recognised by the Son of Heaven!

The unmistakable titter of Ichika's laugh floated across the lawn, thrusting rudely upon his memories. He sighed as images of their courting days in Honshu when he was on leave and she an Arts student, formed then fell away. Never a profit in looking back, only forward, always forward.

"Yai!" he yelled, something was on his foot! He looked down at the large red crab clambering over his well shone military boot. He kicked and the crab flew through the air landing with a broken crunch on a limestone outcrop.

Haruki cursed the beast for startling him and watched it struggle to its senses. Waving its pincers about in a comically distracted way. There was a large crack in the crab's shell and Haruki could see inside. He poured his remaining Saki directly into the open wound. The crab froze at this new onslaught. After a few minutes, Haruki realised the crab was dead. Unwilling to struggle for life, it surrendered.

He shrugged and started for the house. The noise from inside seemed louder than it was before, more lively. He steeled himself and started to figure out how to confront his wife and the upstart Captain Kaito.