“The combat radius of the F-35B is just over 800 Kilometers,” said Kita, his eyes fixed on Fukada as he sized the man up. He had known him as an enterprising and dedicated officer, but was seeing more in the man here than he did in his own day. There was an edge to the Lieutenant Commander that almost seemed as though he had a bone to pick here. It was more than loyalty to Japan, an honorable trait. There was a shadow over his eagerness for this war.
“We can use the Osprey’s for mid-air refueling,” said Fukada, and Kita noted that the man had obviously been doing a great deal of thinking about all of this. “As for the B-29s,” said Fukada, “without their carrier power, Japan can stop them from taking the islands they used for their strategic bombing program. We can stop them from putting B-29s on Tinian, or anywhere else close enough to hit Japan, and we can stop them from delivering the bomb that ravaged our homeland. But first things first—we must stop their production of Essex Class carriers.”
Fukada was seeing things at the strategic root. While many of the others had entertained thoughts of intervening in the campaign now underway, Fukada advocated taking the war to the trunk of the tree, not simply trimming off its branches.
Admiral Kita took a long breath. “What do the rest of you think of Fukada’s proposal?”
“He makes a strong argument.” It was Captain Daishin Tachino, the master of the Navy’s fleet replenishment ship Omi. The Mashu Class AOR was a very valuable fleet asset, commissioned in 2005. In addition to providing fuel oil and aviation fuel, it had a large helideck and hangar to receive helicopters as big as the MH-53E Sea Dragon, which it could use to make deliveries to other ships in the task force. It had ample munitions stores and food supplies, and it also served as a hospital ship. At 25,000 tons full load, it was one of the largest AOR class ships in the world in its day, and capable of 24 knots to keep pace with a fast moving surface action group.
“My job is logistics and support. We’ve come a long way to get here, and there is fuel in Omi’s belly to take us back to home waters easily enough. I can top off your tanks here… perhaps twice. Now I just tabbed up some numbers that might sober things down here, no offense intended to the Lieutenant Commander. From our present position, it’s roughly 7,000 nautical miles to the Panama Canal. Swing down to Cape Horn and that journey extends to a little over 11,000 nautical miles. The carriers and Takami have fairly long legs and can just barely make that. But the other destroyers have less than half that range. So they’ll use their first refill just getting to that point. From there, it’s another 7,000 nautical miles to your targets on the east coast, which also requires another replenishment operation to get there. We can make it, but that will be all. I can’t get the fleet back to the Pacific, so this would be a one way trip.”
“Is there a way north?”
“Yes, but its January, a little cold up there.” Tachino tapped his pad again. “Figure 3,400 nautical miles to the Bering Strait, then if we can take the proverbial Northwest Passage and make it into the Baffin Bay, it would be a little over 8,000 total distance from here. But that passage without icebreaker support would be dangerous. This isn’t 2021. The waters here are cold, and the ice is thick and very prevalent compared to our time. That route also precludes any strike on the Panama Canal, but I’d say it’s a moot point. I think the northern route is closed until spring.”
“What if we head West?” Fukada suggested. “We can go to Yamamoto and request tanker support and refuel at Japanese controlled bases from here to Ceylon.” Fukada was unwilling to allow something as mundane as logistics to hamper his vision. Yet those very same numbers, and the issue of fuel, had largely decided which side Takami would have to throw in with when it first appeared. Now the constraints of fuel and endurance at sea were going to determine the reach of these operations.
“Yamamoto?” Admiral Kita nodded his head. “It seems that whether we want a free hand here or not, we still remain tethered to the Imperial Japanese Navy. We’ll have to cooperate with these men one way or another.”
“Yet it could also help solve this problem,” said Harada. “We might hit the Panama Canal using our own assets, but the only way I see us going around the Cape of Good Hope is by pairing down the task force to use fewer ships, and those with the best range. How far is it from Ceylon to the US East Coast?”
Captain Tachino pulled up the data in a few seconds. “About 11,000 nautical miles. Assuming we can use IJN fuel as far as Ceylon, and I can fill my gut with fresh fuel oil there as well, then I can get us to New York and back to Ceylon. Alternatively, I can get us from the target zone and down around the Horn into the South Pacific again, but we’ll be bone dry, and in the middle of nowhere.”
“Those seas will be in the U.S. sphere of influence,” said Kita.
“We can defend ourselves,” said Fukada.
“True, but the tankers Yamamoto would have to send would need major support to reach us,” Tachino cautioned.
“Gentlemen,” said Kita, “we’re getting ahead of ourselves with all of this. Our first mission is to find and kill this Russian ship.”
“It was just off Truk two days ago,” said Harada. “We might head southwest to find what we need now, more tanker support from our friends, before we tangle with our enemies. Something tells me they may be closer than we think.”
Part IX
St. Michael’s Cave
“This cave seems to have been formed by the violent concussion that rent “the Rock” mid-way between Signal Station and rock gun battery, near Middle Hill, evident marks of the disturbance being found. Turning to the long celebrated and far-famed cave of St. Michael, we find traces of the disturbance… probably formed by the same violent force of upheaval, as the axes of fracture of all are nearly in line. Wishing to solve certain doubts, and the truth of certain rumors respecting this cave, I determined upon a careful exploration…”
Chapter 25
It was an ancient network of limestone caves, its entrance perched 300 meters above the sea. Created by the slow seepage of seawater through the porous rock, the acidic conditions gradually wore away the stone, opening small cracks along the fault lines and widening them to deep passages that opened onto vast caverns. The numerous stalactites and stalagmites formed by the steady drip of this water were built over thousands of years, pale white teeth in places, and in others, deeply riven formations colored in ochre and amber hues.
Ages ago, prehistoric human left the traces of their rudimentary tools and bowls in the cave, and drew the images of their most desired prey in elegantly rustic depictions of herding animals like the Ibex. Those drawings were thought to be over 20,000 years old, spanning twice the length of any fragment of recorded human history. Yet some believe the caves were far older, for the discovery of two non-human skulls dated them to 40,000 years—Neanderthal skulls, the primate that failed to survive into modern times.
The ancient Greeks and Romans knew the place, for it was mentioned in Homer’s writings. Later, it was given a name because of its resemblance to a similar cave grotto found in Italy, a place where the Archangel Michael was said to have appeared. To the men who had delved into the towering rock above the cave, it was simply called “Old Saint Michael’s,” though the British had tried to change the name to “St. George’s Cave” in the 18th Century. That hubris failed to take root, and by the time of Queen Victoria, the cave became widely known as a place of magical beauty, its twisting pillars of stone serving as a background for ceremonial events like weddings, concerts and even a gala dance party at times.