Weapons of choice

"No," she said firmly. "We have no German vessels operating with us. There are undoubtedly a small number of German personnel on secondment to various elements of the task force. There may well be some Italians, too. I know of a couple on the Fearless. And we had a couple of Republic of Indonesian boats with us, which might well have complicated things, since you don't have a Republic of Indonesia… but then neither do we nowadays, so I guess it couldn't be any more complicated. And anyway, they seemed to have escaped the Transition here, like the American subs and a New Zealand frigate, which were all some distance away from the event."

"So what on earth do you intend to do with all of these Krauts and Japs, then?" asked Spruance, who seemed to be growing agitated again. He stood and turned to face her squarely.

"I don't intend to do anything with them," she replied, "until we've had a chance to discuss the matter at a fleetwide command level. A discussion, I can assure you, that will take into account the wishes of all of the men and women concerned."

"Good Lord," Spruance cried. "You can't suggest that you would let them be repatriated to their respective countries, if that's what they desired."

"Of course not," she responded. "Nobody's going to hand Hitler or Tojo the plans to an atom bomb. But they're not going into irons, either, just for being Japanese or German. I have a Russian on my own ship, by the way. I know she'd have no interest whatsoever in returning home. Stalin would have her shot on sight, as soon as he discovered what became of his bloody workers' paradise."

Spruance slowly began pacing a tight circle around the cabin, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned the whole thing over in his mind. He was surprised to discover that his initial shock and disbelief were fading quickly now. Piled on top of that discovery came the realization that this annoying woman was mostly responsible. Standing there in her dress uniform, arms folded as arrogantly as you please, tossing off her own opinions while disregarding his as though she considered them largely worthless, she came as a small, intimate herald of change. What sort of a woman was she? The loss of her sister ship and a thousand comrades appeared not to ruffle her at all. She seemed every bit as self-assured of her own godhead as any number of Royal Navy captains he'd met over the years. It was almost as if their blasted empire had never begun to crumble to dust. The jaw-dropping perversity of meeting this odd creature who was so very obviously convinced of her own infallibility, in that recognizably and infuriatingly British way, all helped undermine the skepticism with which he had first responded to Kolhammer's ridiculous story.

Jesus, he thought, what if it's true?

He retrieved the book from where he had tossed it on his desk and flicked through it again, leaving Beanland and Halabi to their mutually hostile silence. He scanned a few pages that dealt with the rapid destruction of three Japanese carriers, caught by his dive-bombers while their decks were littered with refueling planes, high-explosive bombs, and thousands of gallons of flammable gas.

"We were lucky, then," he said, glancing up at Halabi again.

"Yes and no," she said. "The heavy bomber flights and the waves of torpedo planes that went in earlier set it up for your dive-bombers. If those pilots hadn't sacrificed themselves-and that's what it was for most of them, a suicide mission-you wouldn't have caught Nagumo with his pants down around his ankles and his cock on the chopping block."

Spruance smirked at the profane image, even as he cringed at such language coming from a member of the fairer sex.

God help us, are all the women from her day like this?

"Captain Halabi," he said. "Can I have your word as an officer that you have spoken true tonight?"

Karen straightened herself out of the relaxed posture she had fallen into.

"You have it."

"Fine," Spruance said over the rising objections of Commander Beanland. "We won't delay for word from Black and Curtis. I take it you have some way of contacting your ship and Admiral Kolhammer, and getting them to start their own rescue operations."

"I do, sir." She whipped her flexipad out of a breast pocket and opened a link to the Trident. A red-haired man with hawkish features appeared on the small screen.

"Captain? We've been missing you."

"It's nice to be loved, Mr. McTeale. We have clearance from Admiral Spruance to begin search and rescue. Get them away in… two minutes… Will that be long enough for you to get the word out, Admiral?" she asked Spruance.

He was caught off-guard by the speed at which she had moved, but waved Beanland out of the cabin with a firm instruction to see that his surviving ships were informed of the order.

"Better give us five minutes, Captain. I know it's

11

HIJMS RYUJO, 2331 HOURS, 2 JUNE 1942