Pacific Storm

Chapter 25

Doctor Zolkin looked at Voloshin, trying to understand what the man was saying, and mustering as much sympathy as he could. The Able Seaman had come to him soon after the last attack, shivering with fear. It would not be the first time a man at sea faced the terrors of naval combat and came away shattered by its horror. Yet the story Voloshin told him had a nightmarish edge to it, a surreal quality that Zolkin found unbelievable.

True to the conventions of vranyo, the Russian game where one man’s stretching of the truth was quietly received by another without objection or complaint, he listened attentively as the man told his tale. He had seen something pass through the ship, a shadow at first, then what looked like a plane. He had been right in its path, servicing the missiles beneath the long forward deck, turning to see it coming for him with no hope of escape. Then the face of a man, his features frozen in a strange agonizing scream. He said he could actually see the face of the pilot as the shadow came hurtling for him, passing right through him, the leering face, the wailing sound, like an angel of death itself.

He had fallen to the deck, terrified, shaken badly, and even now he was still struggling to suppress involuntary shivers, so great was the man’s fear.

“Now, now, Voloshin,” said the Doctor. “This business has every man aboard on edge, yes? That plane that came in on the ship a while back has sent twenty other men in here to see me as well. You must remember that this is the first real look at combat for this crew, and you are no exception. It is very harrowing, most frightening. You must allow yourself that fear and yet still manage to do your duty. Even the Admiral has come to see me about it. Yes, Admiral Volsky himself! You know he was hit by those planes that found us in the Med, yes? Well take an example from him. Now he is up on the bridge, as a good fighting admiral should be when his ship is in danger. And you, Voloshin, you are a good fighting Seaman of the battlecruiser Kirov. What you have seen is frightening, to be sure. But you must put it aside, and find a way to remain stalwart.”

Voloshin nodded, still shivering.

“But I have a prescription for you first.” Zolkin was writing now on a small pad of paper. “This is going to tell the ship’s quartermaster to admit you to the junior officer’s mess hall. I want you to go there right now and have a nice long meal. The food is much better than the men’s mess below decks, so take every advantage. There is nothing like a good meal to give a man back his strength, eh? After that I want you to take two of these pills.” He held up a small medicine container, shaking it to rattle the pills inside.

“Take only two, yes? Then go to this cabin, number 147 on the third deck, and go to sleep. I will check on you in four hours.”

“Third deck, sir?”

“Yes, the officers quarters. Don’t worry, I’m writing it all down here. If anyone asks what you are doing there say you have been sent on my orders. I am a Captain of the Second Rank, did you not know? And you have heard of ‘Doctor’s orders,’ so follow these well. Two pills—only two—and cabin 147. Have a good long sleep. I will check on you later, and see how you feel then. But first, go and eat.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Good then. On your way. I hear they have very good food on the menu today. Don’t let anyone bother you. Just hand the kitchen master that note, and eat well.”

Good food and sleep, a couple of aspirin with just a little tranquilizer in the mix. That was the prescription for Voloshin, and Zolkin sighed after he left, wondering how the rest of the crew was holding up. There was a knock on his door and he was pleased to see Admiral Volsky step into the sick bay, removing his cap with a smile.

“Are you hungry and sleepy too?” asked Zolkin, and he told the Admiral what had just transpired.

“The men have been under a lot of strain,” said Volsky. “I have been making the rounds below decks again, but I thought I would talk to you briefly. No, I am fine. I got several hours sleep last night before this latest attack.

“And the ship?”

“Still here,” said the Admiral, at least we think it is. Voloshin was not imagining things, Dmitri. One of those planes went right through the ship.”

“We were struck again? I did not feel any impact. I heard nothing.”

“Correct. It went through us, but something was happening at the time. The ship was moving to another time. This is what Fedorov thinks. He says that if we are as much as a second or two out of sync, then they cannot touch us. But it is frightening how we still see the shadows of the other time for a few brief moments when we shift. We are here, but yet not here. It is all very disturbing and completely mind boggling at the same time. But we were lucky we did move, or Voloshin would not be alive now. Perhaps the ship itself would have been struck a fatal blow. Where did he say this happened?”

“He was down tending to the missiles, under the forward deck, very near the gun mount there.

“A very bad place for a plane to strike us.”

“Udachi,” said Zolkin. “Our luck is still good. But how could this have happened. We have moved again in time?”

“Do you remember what you said during one of the meetings in here while we were in the Med, Dmitri?”

“You mean about the atomic weapons?”

“No, not that—about Dobrynin and the nuclear reactors. Fedorov was talking about this confounding time displacement, and trying to link it to a strange flux in the reactor core. You said something that stuck with me ever since. You asked if we had considered telling Dobrynin to fiddle with the reactors a bit more.”

“Yes, you were all wondering what to do about Gibraltar, so I suggested you just have Dobrynin crank up the reactor and send us somewhere else. I was joking, of course. Just trying to lighten the mood of the discussion.”

“Well,” said Volsky with a broad smile. “We took your advice, Doctor! Fedorov and I conspired a bit and we found out something very odd. Dobrynin was running a maintenance routine on the reactor core, and every time he did it the ship ended up moving some hours later. Moving in time, mind you. So Fedorov and I decided to conduct a little experiment. We had Dobrynin run the procedure, and sure enough, the ship moved again!”

Zolkin was truly surprised now. His fanciful suggestion had been right on the mark. “You mean this is no longer 1942? We are somewhere else?”

“Not exactly, Dmitri. We did move, but the interval was somewhat short lived this time. That’s what Fedorov is calling these time shifts—intervals.”

Zolkin nodded, his eyes bright behind his dark spectacles, charcoal brows bobbing as he spoke. “A bright young man.”

“Truly,” said Volsky. “He has worked very efficiently with Karpov, and I must also say that my little experiment with the Captain has worked out to much good as well. He’s saved the ship on more than one occasion. A truly exceptional performance as a tactical combat officer. If I had listened to him, and struck at the enemy carriers as he advised, you would not have men in here talking about planes flying through them. Together the two of them have kept us all alive. I’m afraid I’m starting to feel like a big fat suitcase on a badly filled airliner. There’s not much room for me on the bridge now. Those two have the matter well in hand.”

“It’s good they both have performed so well,” said Zolkin. “Particularly what you say about Karpov. I must tell you that I had my misgivings about the man when you first returned him to duty.”

“Don’t worry yourself about it, Dmitri. I don’t think he will try anything like he did in the Atlantic. We seem to have reached an understanding. The men have also seen him in the middle of it all up there.” He pointed to the ceiling, fingering the main bridge somewhere above them. “They have come to respect Karpov in a way they never did before.”

“Yes,” said Zolkin. I’ve had matoc and mishmanny in here talking about Karpov as well. They call him our strong right arm, now. The word is all over the ship. Things are much better with the crew now that Orlov is gone. They say Karpov has been giving the enemy hell. Only I hope he won’t be contemplating nuclear bombs any time soon.”

“No, we have also reached an understanding about that. Do not worry about it. But Doctor… A little more advice from you, if you would be so kind. We tried out this maintenance procedure with Dobrynin, but now we have regressed—that is what Fedorov calls it. I don’t really understand it all. He says the ship seems drawn to this time period, and that it has regressed to this date and time. Who knows why?” He held out his big empty hands in gesture, clearly indicating that he did not have the answer.

“The KA-40 was up at the time on surveillance operations. Fedorov suggested that it could have acted as a kind of anchor. It belongs to us and it seems Mother Time wants us to collect our things before we go anywhere again. That is the only way I can understand it. The helo was well away from the ship when we moved, shifted, and though we were only gone an hour as we experienced it, when we regressed the Helo found us and was nearly out of fuel. It had been searching for us for over six hours! It was already past noon, though we first noticed the odd movement a little after six in the morning. We lost all those hours, just like we seem to lose many days while we are in that other place, a future time when the world seems so empty and forsaken. Now it does not seem such a terrible place to me. The Japanese have pressed us very hard. The ship has been hit three times. We’ve taken some very severe damage and the money I will have to pay damage control Chief Byko for overtime is adding up.”

“Put me on your payroll as well,” said Zolkin.

“Yes, I know it must be very hard down here. The casualties have been mounting up as well. How many have we lost?”

“Thirty-six.”

Volsky sat with that for a while, saying nothing, his face drawn and concerned. “I appreciate all you have done, Dmitri. But hear me out. We may have a solution here after all, thanks to you. We have just discovered that we can cause the ship to move on our own—in fact we were causing the ship to move in time all along! Dobrynin was running this routine maintenance procedure every twelve days. And Fedorov says every twelve days we have moved.”

“Then it wasn’t that accident on the Orel?”

“Who knows. He thinks that may have catalyzed the first incident, caused some change in our reactor. Then every time Dobrynin completes this procedure, we move in time.”

“Amazing,” said Zolkin. “Then do it again, Leonid. Get us away from these Japanese before they line more men up at my doorstep, or put another kamikaze dive bomber into the ship.”

“That is exactly what I was thinking to do. I just thought I would see what you suggested.”

“Do it, Admiral. It’s clear that we remain in grave danger here. We are not wanted. This Mother Time you speak of must be very angry with us, and not simply for forgetting our helicopters!”

“Fedorov is worried we have changed all the history and caused that holocaust in the future. In fact, none of the operations we have uncovered here are in his history books now.”

“We’ve done all this?”

“I’m afraid so. We started the war early for the Americans, raised hell in the Mediterranean with the Italians and British. It’s as if we have slipped into Time’s mansion and broken quite a lot of china. She has finally taken notice of us and yes, she may be quite upset about it. It has occurred to me that there may be some kind of backlash for what we have done. Consequences for us as well as that future time we have blighted.”

“If I were Mother Time I would certainly want to find a good way to get rid of us,” said Zolkin.

“Well…” Volsky sighed. “The Japanese may take care of that for her. We have run out of surface-to-air missiles, my friend. All we have now to stop those planes are the close in Gatling guns, and when the ammunition runs out on those…”

“I see.”

“Another thing. Rodenko’s radar has sorted itself out again. He has spotted enemy ships bearing down on us from two directions, so we may be in another battle soon if we stay here much longer. We have two choices, Dmitri: we can either run like hell and try to get past these ships out into the South Pacific—”

“And find that island you’ve been yearning for?”

“Exactly. Either that or we run this maintenance procedure and try to pull another disappearing act.”

“Do it, Leonid. In fact, why not do both? Run like hell, and while you are at it have Dobrynin do his maintenance. Get us as far away from the Japanese as you possibly can. Send us into a thousand tomorrows, but don’t fight here any longer than you have to. I think we have been lucky so far. Very lucky. That could change.”

Admiral Volsky nodded. “Ah, but there is one small problem, Dmitri. Dobrynin cannot complete his procedure while the ship is running at any speed over ten knots. It involves retraction of one of the control rods in the reactor core. When we run up at higher speeds the reactor must have all the rods in place. He can’t remove one or we might risk overheating the core.”

“So it’s one or the other,” said Zolkin. “We either move in space, or in time. You have to decide, Leonid, and that quickly. We make our decisions on the spur of a single moment, and we pay for them for a lifetime, so choose wisely. I wish I could help you, but I can only say that I think it would be good to just get us out of here, any way you can.”

“Good advice, my friend. I think I’ll go find Mister Fedorov and see what the other officers suggest. We may have a little time before those enemy ships can get close enough to cause us trouble.”

The warning claxon suddenly startled them both, and Zolkin met the Admiral’s eyes.

“I think you had better hurry,” he said, and the Admiral wasted no further time.

Chapter 26

Admiral Volsky found Fedorov on the bridge conferring with Karpov at the clear Plexiglas navigation display. He was tapping out positions with a light pen and luminous lines would appear on the glass, indicating possible courses and predictive plots.

“We have obtained some very detailed information from the KA-40,” said Fedorov. “Good HD video feed as well. Those surface contacts Rodenko reported have now been positively identified.”

“What are we facing this time, Mister Fedorov? I hope we haven’t stumbled across another carrier task force.”

“No sir, but our old nemesis is back. While we were gone the KA-40 spent a good while searching the whole region around us. It had ample time to track the movement of the carriers that attacked us at dawn. They have moved south along the Australian coast and regrouped about 160 miles northeast of Cairns. Apparently the Allies have nothing much to bother them there. B-17s do not make for very effective naval bombers. Here sir, I isolated some screen shots and I can put them up on the main monitor.”

He tapped a key at the Nav station and the main monitor now displayed a formation of four aircraft carriers. “That will be Admiral Hara, from what Nikolin has been able to ferret out of the radio traffic. Those two larger carriers are Zuikaku, and Shokaku, the smaller two are escort carriers, this one is the Zuiho,” he pointed. “The flight deck lines are very distinctive, and I matched it to photographs from my library. The other carrier looks to be Ryuho, the only ship in her class, a converted submarine tender. But the thing to note, Admiral, is the lack of aircraft on deck. Look, there’s not a single plane aboard Ryuho or Zuiho and only those four fighters are visible on Zuikaku, two more on this last carrier. They may have other aircraft below the flight deck in the hangers, but we kept a good tally of hits from the two strikes these ships mounted against us. There can be no more than fifteen planes available between all four carriers, and some of those may even be damaged.”

“That is some comfort, given the fact that we have lost our SAM umbrella.”

“Right, sir. As for the other Japanese carriers, we haven’t sorted it all out yet, but Nikolin thinks the Japanese lost their battle with the Americans off Guadalcanal.”

“More good news, at least I think that may be good. That leaves them fewer ships to send after us! Now what is the bad news?”

“Here sir…” He indicated two contacts on the board. “This is a fast cruiser group, and the name Iwabuchi has been heard in the radio traffic. Two of those ships were in his screening force, Nachi and Myoko. We engaged them near Melville Island, but the Captain held them at bay with our deck guns. This other ship is the cruiser Tone, very fast at 36 knots, and with four twin 8 inch gun turrets, all mounted forward of the main bridge. Her entire aft deck area was used to mount up to six sea planes. This is a classic high speed scout ship, sir. Without our SAMs to destroy those search planes the enemy will find and mark our position very easily. And I believe this Captain Iwabuchi off the Kirishima may have transferred his flag to Tone. He may be a bit reckless, sir, and he is now steering on a course to block our further passage southeast, with some rather formidable company.”

Fedorov indicated a second contact point almost due east of their present position. “These ships have been moving southwest from the Solomons for some time. The KA-40 spotted them at 10:00 this morning while we were still…elsewhere. The hours we lost this morning were hours this force gained. We might have easily slipped by them earlier but now I fear this group is also in a position to intercept us.” He tapped the Plexiglas screen and two predictive plot lines vectored out to a point to the southwest, and a bright red dot appeared, winking on and off.

“If we hold to this course they will cut us off right there.”

“What is this second group composed of?”

“One battleship, three cruisers and three destroyers. It’s the battleship that worries me, sir…the Yamato.”

Volsky had heard of the ship, and he folded his arms, concerned as Fedorov continued.

“The largest battleship ever built, sir, excepting her sister ship Musashi. She was nearly 72,000 tons fully loaded. That was 27,000 tons more than the American Iowa Class battleships, and more than twice our displacement. She has nine 18.1 inch guns, in turrets so heavy they would weigh as much as a typical destroyer of this era. They can range out to 45,000 meters at full elevation, though it isn’t likely to hit anything at that range. I believe the longest hit ever recorded by a battleship on a moving target was at just over 26,000 yards. So we can hit her before she gets too close, but that said, this was one of the best protected ships ever built. She has 650 millimeters of armor on those gun turrets. That’s twenty-six inches thick, sir.”

“650 millimeters?”

“Yes, sir. The US Navy conducted ballistic tests on that face plate after the war using a turret that had been built for the Shinano, another ship in this class, and they found that it required nearly point blank range to fully penetrate using a 16 inch armor piercing shell. They concluded that at normal ranges there was no naval gun then in service that could penetrate it. As for side armor, her main belt was 450 millimeters, and she had 200 millimeter deck armor as well.”

“Her decks are as thick as our armored citadel?”

“I’m afraid so, sir. This ship is a veritable floating fortress of steel. And for all that she was relatively fast at 27 knots.”

“Thank God for small favors,” said Volsky. “At least we can outrun that monster at thirty-two knots.”

“Yes sir, but every one of these other ships can match or exceed our speed. If they release the hounds on us, they will catch us, and we simply do not have the missiles left to take on six cruisers and three destroyers, let alone face down this battleship. And one more thing, sir. Yamato will most likely be commanded by a very distinguished guest. It was formerly Combined Fleet Headquarters at Truk, and Admiral Yamamoto is likely to be aboard at this very moment.”

“I don’t suppose he might like to have a little chat with me either,” said Volsky. “No, we are not going to talk ourselves out of this one. I just had a lengthy discussion with Doctor Zolkin. It seems we have a choice now, to go to full battle speed and try to outrun these ships in space, or to ask Dobrynin to run his maintenance routine again and try to slip away in time. The catch is this: Dobrynin cannot complete his procedure if the ship is making more than ten knots. So we have a difficult decision here, gentlemen. What will it be?”

“Why don’t we reverse course,” said Karpov. “We are over 100 miles from each group at the moment. That’s a considerable lead, particularly if we can make thirty-two knots after the procedure.”

“It would mean we have to transit the Torres Strait again, and perhaps our own minefield is still in place there.” Fedorov was not enthusiastic about that prospect.

“Hopefully the Japanese will not get curious and manage to get their hands on one,” said the Admiral.

“Another thing, sir. There was a heavy bombardment group in the Darwin operations. Nikolin managed to get the names from Australian radio traffic, the Mutsu and Nagato were identified and said to be moving east away from Darwin. Mutsu was part of first Battleship Division based at Truk. These ships may be returning via the Coral Sea and, though they are slow, they could easily block the Torres Strait. Then we have another fight on our hands, this time with two battleships.”

“Not very appealing,” said Volsky.

“Then what about turning due north,” Karpov suggested. “That would leave these cruisers we faced earlier well to the south and out of the action. We could only be intercepted by the Yamato group. It might give us better odds.”

“True,” said Fedorov, “But then we would have to pass between Milne Bay here and the Louisiade Archipelago, and enter the Solomon Sea. North from there the way is blocked by the Bismarck Barrier, and the big Japanese base at Rabaul. We would have Yamato on our tail and be trapped in some very dangerous waters, most likely subject to land based air strikes and even submarine attacks. Moving north would set off a lot of alarm bells. It’s right into the middle of their main defensive perimeter.”

“Then if we run south east as we have been what is the likelihood these two groups will intercept us?”

“Very high,” Fedorov did not mince words here. “I’ve shown you the predictive plot. We’re going to have to fight if we hold this course, I can assure you.”

“Then I suggest we fire up our time machine again,” said Admiral Volsky. “Suppose we turn northwest at ten knots while Dobrynin completes the procedure again. How long before they would catch up to us?”

Fedorov tapped the screen, entering some data and then called up the predictive plots. “The procedure takes at least two hours. We got very good results last time. The effects were almost immediate, but there is no guarantee that will happen now, even if we do shift in time again. So assuming the worst… we hold at ten knots for a little over two hours, then increase to full battle speed. Yamato will gain thirty four miles on us in the first two hours, but then they lose five miles each hour thereafter. If they are nimble and pick up our new heading quickly, then we would have four hours, perhaps five before we are confronted by Mutsu and Nagato coming down from the Torres Strait. Then all bets are off. If we haven’t displaced in time again within that time frame then we could be facing both pursuing groups, as well as Mutsu and Nagato southwest of Port Moresby.”

“And if we continue on our present heading?”

“Then they will cut us off much earlier, three hours, maybe four at the most.”

“That’s barely enough time to run the procedure. It takes at least two hours, longer if there are any complications.” Volsky was deep in thought now.

“I have one other possibility,” said Karpov, looking at the situation he would probably have to fight in any case. “What if we start the procedure immediately, turn south by southwest now. That takes us away from Yamato, the slower enemy group, and makes it more difficult for that ship to catch up with us. The other group is just these three cruisers. I can smash them with what we still have in the missile silos.”

“And those carriers?” Volsky pointed.

“We can beat off fifteen planes if that is all they have. Our CWIS system is superb, even if we can’t engage them at long range. And we still have one S-300.”

“Make a run towards those carriers and we will be hitting a nerve,” said Fedorov. “If the Japanese got hurt badly by the Americans, then they will do everything possible to protect their remaining carrier assets. There are two more light cruisers and ten destroyers escorting Hara’s task force. We’ll have to assume they would attack with that entire force. That’s a lot of work for the deck guns. Some of those ships will get close enough to get their torpedoes off—unless we want to use our remaining SSMs.”

“I like our chances to the northwest better,” said Volsky. “There’s still a lot of sea room between our position and New Guinea. Let’s turn north, start the procedure at once, then we can dance, gentlemen, and see if we can evade them. We don’t have to enter the Solomon Sea. We can just work our way east again and then southeast into the South Pacific. Any objections?”

It seemed the one option that would buy them the most time, and so Fedorov and Karpov agreed. The orders were cut and the ship came about smartly on a new heading, true north.

Down in the reactor room Dobrynin received the order and shook his head, turning to the system engineer on duty.

“Prepare to begin rod replacement procedure,” he said calmly. “Rod number seven.”

“Again, sir? We just ran the procedure for rod eight a few hours ago. Isn’t the interval twelve days, sir?”

“Very astute, Mister Garin, but no questions, please. Begin the procedure for rod seven at once. This comes right from the bridge. Monitor your temperatures carefully. ”

He walked to Koslov’s station, taping his monitor panel. “Keep a good eye on your prompt neutron flux, Mister Koslov. Very well, let us begin. I will initiate in five minutes. Start the data recorder please.”

The nuclear engine at the heart of Kirov was a delicate balance of a fission reaction that wanted to increase exponentially being carefully controlled by the insertion of rods made of materials that would absorb the excess neutrons generated by the fission. It was all about temperature in the end. The reactor temperature had to be kept within a narrow range by these rods, supported by a system of constantly circulating purified and de-ionized water. The water would circulate through the core, absorbing heat, then pass through a heat exchanger in a series of “U” tubes that were in turn cooled by a secondary water flow inside that chamber. This water was allowed to boil to generate steam, and this is what turned Kirov’s turbine engines. In effect, the reactor was a nuclear pressure cooker of sorts, and the temperature, pressure and heat were all critical variables in the mix.

The withdrawal of one of the control rods would naturally increase the fission reaction, so a replacement rod was inserted first, rod number twenty-five. At this point the temperature would drop enough that power output to the turbines would be very limited, and the ship could run at no more than a third of its rated speed. Both the insertion of Rod 25 and the and removal of Rod 7 were slow, careful procedures. One rod lowering, the other raised in an effort to maintain a steady control function on the reaction. A misstep could cause catastrophic results.

Dobrynin sat down in his chair, closed his eyes and began to listen to the machine he had operated for so many years. The sound of the reaction was like a song in his head by now, and he knew every note, every cadence and rhythm, his highly trained ear slowly listening to the nuclear symphony.

Sometime later he hear it, a strange note in the score, like a flute that had run off on its own, soaring above the clarinet section, a lilting phrase that remained in harmony with the overall song, but was clearly never sanctioned by the conductor.

There it is again, he thought. Was it something in the system, the coolant flow, or perhaps in Rod 25 itself? That rod was the one common denominator in all of these strange flux events—Rod 25. He focused his mind on the wayward notes, following their rise and fall, a strange new soloist in the orchestra.

“I think we have a little flux reading now, yes Mister Garin?”

“Right sir, just as before, but nothing serious, sir. It is well within limits.” How could the Chief Engineer know what his gauges were reading, he wondered? He was twenty feet away with his eyes closed.

Something was happening here that Dobrynin did not quite understand, but he knew that Admiral Volsky would soon want to know what it was. Perhaps after this I will suggest we have a look at Rod 25, he thought to himself. Then, thinking of Volsky, he opened his eyes, picked up the comm-unit, and called the bridge.

“Dobrynin here. The procedure is now underway. Please hold at ten knots or lower for the next two hours…And tell Admiral Volsky I can hear it again. He will know what I mean.”

Chapter 27

Yoshida was up in his E13A, designated “Type Zero Reconnaissance Seaplane” by the navy, and called simply “Jake” by the Allies. He had been quietly shadowing the distant ship on the horizon, keeping a careful distance as ordered. He had heard the stories of sky serpents that reached for a plane and devoured it in a single bite! Now he noticed the shadow on the sea seemed to grow larger, a telltale sign that the ship was turning, briefly presenting its full silhouette. He sighed, realizing he would have to close the range now to ascertain the new heading, and fed power to his engine as he banked.

Some minutes later he had a fairly good read on the ship’s course by again aligning his plane with the distant white wake and reading his own compass. Due north, he thought. The ship has turned. Where could it be going? Nothing north, except perhaps the last Australian outpost at Milne Bay.

He turned to his radio man, telling him to send the new heading. “No change in speed,” he added. The ship seemed to be in no particular hurry. If it knew what was hunting it, perhaps it would be running at high speed now. Then again, every ship and plane that had ever encountered this demon had either died or sustained serious damage. He mastered his curiosity, resisting the urge to get closer and see this Mizuchi for himself. No, he thought. I have no desire for an unplanned sea landing. You may tickle this sea dragon’s tail, but don’t provoke it. Yoshida was a very wise man.

The message was soon decoded and flashed to all surface action groups presently in the hunt. Admiral Yamamoto was informed a little after 12:40 hours by Operations Chief Kuroshima in the officer’s dining room where the fleet commander was just finishing his lunch.

“The ship has turned on a new heading, sir. Due north.”

Yamamoto raised an eyebrow at this. “Are you certain?” he asked setting down his chop sticks on the white linen napkin.

“It was first reported by a seaplane off the Tone, and has been verified by search planes from the Mutsu as well, sir.”

“North, Kuroshima? What is this ship up to?”

“It could have spotted us as well, sir. It was obvious that we were in a favorable position to intercept if it continued on its old heading. Who knows, sir. Perhaps it is running for Milne Bay now that we have herded it away from ports on the Australian mainland. Hara has a large screening force out west with his carriers. They may have spotted it.”

“Was there a speed indicated?”

“The pilots estimated no more than ten or twelve knots, sir.”

That again seemed to surprise Yamamoto, and he looked at his Operations Chief now, his lunch finished. “It does not seem that they have any fear of battle,” he said. “Ten or twelve knots?”

“The ship could have been damaged by our air strike, sir. This is good news. I suggest we alter course to intercept at once.”

“Give the order, Kuroshima. Yes, this is good news, though very surprising. Perhaps they do not realize we have two more battleships to their northwest. Well enough. How soon might we catch this ship?”

“That remains to be seen, sir, but we can cut the range considerably now if we run full out.”

“Make it so. And keep me informed if the enemy makes any further heading or speed change.”

“Of course, sir.” Kuroshima bowed with a quick salute, and turned to send the new heading order up to the bridge.

Yamamoto leaned back in his chair, thinking about this new development. He was immediately relieved that this ship was no longer threatening Hara’s carriers. Those ships had to be preserved at all costs. Without their strike squadrons intact, they were little more than ducks in a pond should any other American carrier be operating in these waters. Six fighters, he thought darkly. That was all Hara had left to put over his carriers, two shotai. And below decks there were no more than ten other planes, many bearing scars and shrapnel wounds from the incredible attack concluded that morning against this enemy ship. It was most unsettling; seemingly impossible! How could the seasoned pilots of Hara’s group have failed to bludgeon this ship with over ninety planes in the morning air strike? He could still not believe the results, or the baffling reports of aerial rockets that had been so deadly, intercepting and killing Hara’s planes before they ever set eyes on their target.

If the British built this ship, he mused, then it truly is a monster. Perhaps it was a new ship, something the intelligence masters and the bright young men of the Naval General Staff had been unable to discover. After all, his own ship, the super battleship Yamato, had been shrouded in secrecy for all the many years of its construction. Virtually everything about it, its displacement, armor, the true size and caliber of its guns, had been closely guarded state secrets. Was it so difficult to believe that the British could have built a fast and deadly ship like this, and engineered these marvelous new rocket weapons?

Thinking of Yamato again, he realized the tremendous resources it had taken to build, the seemingly endless work in the foundries and factories. Three of these superb battleships had been ordered, but only two delivered. The final ship would become a carrier instead, and that was probably very wise, he thought…unless…

The fate of Hara’s squadrons weighed heavily in his mind now. What if this ship, these new rocket weapons, changed the delicate balance of power at sea yet again? It had been a world of dreadnaughts and battleships, with nations signing treaties to stubbornly restrict the size and power of these deadly vessels. Then the British flew a flock of outmoded planes against the Italian battle fleet at Taranto and showed what even slow, obsolete aircraft might do against the steel dragons of the sea. Three of six Italian battleships there had been either sunk or damaged so badly they had to be beached. If a few British planes could do this at Taranto, he realized, then what might the superb fast carriers and naval aviators of the Imperial Japanese Navy do against the Americans at Pearl Harbor?

The plan was just a few months from being realized when the Germans stupidly struck the Americans in the North Atlantic, just a little over a year ago now. The Americans declared war, Japan foolishly sided with Germany instead of pursuing an independent course, and the Americans obliged by declaring hostilities against the Empire as well, on September 1, 1941. The Pearl Harbor attack plan was suddenly nothing more than stacks of useless paper!

Yet even though his carriers did not get the chance to prove their skills at Hawaii, they had performed flawlessly ever since, screening, scouting, providing decisive air power when needed as Japan rolled south into the resource rich island archipelagos of the Pacific. The old American battleships that the navy planners had been so eager to kill were still largely berthed at Pearl Harbor, too fat and slow to keep up with the speedy hit and run tactics required by the carrier fleets. Now this…

A ship that could defend itself against an entire carrier task force! A fast, deadly ship that had held Iwabuchi’s cruisers at bay, killed submarines with no destroyer escort, left the battleship Kirishima a steaming wreck in its foaming wake, and was now in a perfect place to strike at Hara’s carriers, their hangers largely empty, or at the slow transports bearing troops from the Nagoya 3rd Division. These reports of rockets that had even bloodied his ships were most confounding. His staff was of the opinion that they would have to be piloted to be so accurate. They struck targets the enemy could not even see!

While this made some sense to him, it would be most unlike the British to produce a weapon requiring a pilot to give his life. Perhaps the pilots were ejecting once they had aimed their weapons, but no sign of this had been observed, and not a single enemy had been found in the sea. It was a profound mystery.

Only one thing was certain, this ship changes everything, he thought. Now it will no longer be a war of carriers and planes, though they will always have their place in any well balanced navy. No. From everything he had heard, it was now the daring pilots of these rocket weapons who would decide the fate of nations, and only a ship capable of withstanding their warheads could close and engage the enemy in a gun duel…. A ship like Yamato, the largest and most heavily armored battleship ever built. If ever there was a real dragon of the sea, he was standing on its armored back at this very moment. His guns could tear any ship then known to pieces if they could get in range.

That was another mystery. Iwabuchi’s cruisers and even the Kirishima reported being hit by small caliber deck guns, yet at ranges exceeding their own main batteries! This ship used these infernal rockets in place of the monstrous gun turrets all other big ships would carry, and it gave the enemy the ability to strike at impossible ranges. How were they seeing his ships? One report had indicated a strange aircraft was spotted. They must use seaplanes as we do on our fast cruisers and battleships. It was the only thing that made sense. So here was a battlecruiser that could fight like a carrier, and with a lethal defensive shield against his own carrier planes with these new rocket weapons. The world had changed, right beneath his nose, and he had not seen it happening. This ship was a true nightmare, a revolutionary leap in naval thinking and design.

Then, inexplicably, this Shadow Dancer simply turns north, forsaking all the valuable targets it still had within easy reach. It was baffling, to say the least, but thankfully he could now focus his attention on finding the enemy and holding them accountable for the havoc they had caused in the seas around Australia. It may be the only one of its class, he thought. If I sink it, this would prove that the old strength of guns and steel can as yet prevail. What was it up to, he wondered?

If this ship were still out hunting for new prey, it would not make such a sudden and stupid maneuver. Perhaps this beast is wounded, as Kuroshima suggested. Or perhaps it has limited ammunition or fuel and must now run for a friendly base. But Milne Bay? There is nothing there but a few stubborn battalions of Australian infantry. Could the ship have other intentions? Could it be planning to attack Rabaul? Would it be so daring as to sail right into the arms of our main defenses? Then again, perhaps it was only trying to escape…

Every hunter needed good dogs to find and flush out his prey. He had three fast cruisers with him, Nagara, Yura and Jintsu, fast as the rivers they were named for at 36 knots. He could turn them loose and have them try and run this sea dragon down. The enemy seemed in no hurry, or better yet, it seemed to be limping north now, perhaps even crippled as it fled. Let them harry her, he thought, and we will see if Kuroshima is correct. Well enough. They can put their torpedoes to good use if they catch up with the enemy. If the cruisers find themselves overmatched, they can always fall off and simply shadow this beast. It seemed a good idea, and he called for an orderly, telling him to convey his wishes to Rear Admiral Takayanagi on the bridge at once.

The chase was on, but Yamamoto reserved a measure of caution, even if he was in the most powerful ship in the world, or so he believed. A wounded animal is most dangerous, he thought. This ship has eluded our forces for days. It must be stalked carefully, professionally, and dealt with mercilessly. And I will see it at the bottom of the sea, one small flower I can take to the Emperor.

One small flower…

Captain Sanji Iwabuchi received the order with much excitement. At last, he thought. I am no longer chained to Hara’s carriers. I am free to find and kill this enemy ship again, and avenge the insult and shame I have suffered in losing command of Kirishima. Captain Okada has been more than accommodating to have me here aboard Tone, and I cannot dishonor him, or myself, any further.

When the Kirishima struck those mines in the narrow waters of the Torres Strait, Iwabuchi had been ordered to wait and escort Hara’s carriers through the narrow passage, to sweep the channels so they could move east and do what he had abjectly failed to do.

Yet now old King Kong knows what it feels like, neh? Hara’s neck is a red as mine! His entire carrier air wing was nearly wiped out, and now he, too, was eager for revenge. With Yamamoto’s orders to protect his carriers with everything he had left, I have little doubt he would still have his hand on my waistband, keeping me close. But with the arrival of two more light cruisers and three destroyers in the Ryuho group, he now has enough ships to screen his precious fleet carriers, and I am once again unleashed, the rabid dog set loose again.

Tone is a good ship, fast and with good eyes in the six seaplanes she carries. True, she does not have the power I once commanded with Kirishima, but at least I can catch this Mizuchi now. It can no longer edge away in the night to set cowardly traps as it did in the straits. Yes, I can catch it, but can I kill it?

He considered what had happened to Haguro, and the damage that had been sustained by Myoko and Nachi. The 8 inch guns he had in front of him now were much weaker than the 14 inch guns on Kirishima. No matter. He would use speed this time, get in close and run this sea dragon through with his torpedoes. It was more than duty, more than his need to stand for his comrades in arms here. Now it was personal.

If I do not prevail, he thought, then it is very likely that I will be relieved of my command when this is all over and the children in the Naval General Staff start asking their questions about what happened here. Before I stand accused of incompetence, and endure their insults, I will first have a victory to hand them—to silence the whispers behind my back, to make an end of the sullen eyes that follow me, and most of all, to have my just vengeance.

He had been cruising almost due east for the last hour and a half, on a course that would both screen Hara’s carriers and race to cut off the advance of the enemy. This time things are different, he thought, this time I am ahead of this beast. But soon he was disheartened to learn that one of his seaplane scouts had reported the enemy had altered course and was now steering due north. Now he was again behind the action, and forced to run at his best speed to creep up on this demon. He gave the order to swing round to a heading of five degrees north and all ahead full. In doing so he knew he would begin to outpace both Nachi and Myoko, as they could not quite match his speed. So be it.

Somewhere to the east he knew Admiral Yamamoto was watching, and steaming even now to find and punish this interloper. Captain Iwabuchi wanted to get there first, and with a nine knot speed advantage over Yamato, he had a very good chance of doing exactly that.

I may not be able to match this ship on my own, he thought, but I can take hold of its ankle, and sink my teeth into it nonetheless. He smiled when the bell rang out the course change, the helmsman’s voice rising and falling in echo to his own.

Heavy cruiser Tone turned smartly about, and surged north, her sharp bow cutting the seas with her haste and a long white wake behind her for the other cruisers to follow.

The chase was on.