And yet, quietly, almost surreptitiously, the navy had been putting new ships into their order of battle. It was very much like the little shell game the Japanese played with the Washington Naval Treaty, designing cruisers with 6-inch guns, only with barbettes enlarged so they could be quickly converted to full 8-inch gun heavy cruisers. There were two of them out there right now, just over the horizon. They built seaplane tenders and commercial ships with specific requirements that would facilitate the easy conversion to an aircraft carrier. And in modern times, the new “Helicopter Carriers,” all ostensibly for defensive ASW patrols, could now easily receive the new F-35 strike fighter and become offensive carrier platforms. Takami had also just received a more powerful SSM, for defense against enemy ships at sea, or so went the logic. Yet it was a defense that could only be used by attacking the enemy. In accordance with another old proverb, any good officer in a modern day fight knew that the best defense was a good offense.
“Alright,” said the Captain. “We have a very limited range of choices here. We can pick one side or the other, but if we do, we won’t be able to go in half way. It will be all or nothing. Then again, we could try what Lieutenant Otani suggests and try to facilitate a negotiated peace here. That may seem fruitless, but consider the lives we would be saving if it worked. The only other choice is to stay out of it, but Chief Oshiro makes a pretty good point as to the difficulties in that. We’ll need food and fuel, and a safe harbor where we can ride it out.”
“You may get the food and fuel,” said Fukada, “But let’s face it—this war is going to find us one way or another, no matter where we go, unless you’re thinking of Antarctica, or perhaps sailing to South America. We couldn’t stay anywhere in the Pacific, and all the while, we’ll be listening to news of what’s happening over here. And one more thing—do this and we can never go home. I’m going to assume we never find a way out of this mess—that we’re stuck here. So we can stand by and do nothing, but try showing your face again back home in three years—assuming there’s a home left standing in Japan. That message Ensign Shiota was talking about gives me something else to think about. Who else would have rocket technology this early in the war? It has to be the Russians, and if there is fighting up north, then something is amiss here. That never happened until 1945.”
“All the more reason to make some kind of high level contact here and try to find out what is really happening,” said the bullish CIC Chief Hideo Honjo. He was already wanting as much data on their situation as possible.
“That could be dangerous,” said Oshiro.
“Everything we do here from this day forward could be dangerous,” said Fukada. “But the Lieutenant has a good point. If we can meet with a man like Yamamoto and reach some accommodation, then we’ll be in a much better position. Strong as we might seem, a single arrow is easily broken, but not ten in a bundle. That’s where the Chief’s wisdom shines. We can’t go it alone here, so why not take his advice, and Lieutenant Otani’s, and see if we can arrange a conference with the Admiral of the IJN. Yamamoto, of all the personalities at large here, is a man we might deal with.”
“Aye,” said the Chief. “Wade in slowly. No need to jump to any quick decision here now. These people are going to learn about us one way or another. With a man like Yamamoto in our camp, we have many more options than we would if we tried to go it alone.”
The Captain looked at Lieutenant Otani now, giving her a chance to speak again. “Better talk than anything else. I’d support that course of action, but we’d have to be cautious. Wading in slowly sounds like a reasonable proposition, but first the man takes a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes the man.” She looked at Fukada with that, but said nothing more.
“The Lieutenant has a point. In the beginning, walk slowly. I’m not sure we can avoid stepping on toes here. A warship like this can be a very indelicate thing. That said, we can be cautious, as Lieutenant Otani suggests. Alright, I’ll support that course of action. Any other opinions?”
No one else spoke.
“Then, Ensign Shiota, I have a job for you. Use those ears of yours, and that nifty IJN naval code breaker, to find out where a man might find Admiral Yamamoto. In doing that, you might want to nail down exactly what day it is.”
“Oh, I already know that sir. It’s been on all the intercepts I get each day. This is March 1, 1942, and I think Admiral Yamamoto is at Rabaul inspecting the new base there.”
“How do you know that? If you got this from the ship’s library files this may not be anything like the March of ’42 written up in the books. That damn volcano is evidence enough of that.”
“No sir, I’m not much for history books. I just picked up a signal yesterday indicating he would be at Rabaul for the next week. They just finished up some kind of big operation there.”
“I see… Good work, Ensign. Now do something else for me. Use those ears and try and put together a good SITREP. I want to know what is happening in this war. If something as big as that eruption has happened, who knows what else has changed here. Find out, and report to me as soon as you can. In the meantime, I think we should revisit the question how we deliver the General to Balikpapan, or whether we even do so.”
“He’s likely to insist,” said Fukada. “At least that’s what I’ve been hearing from Doctor Hisakawa.”
“He can insist all he wants,” said the Captain. “I’m navy. In fact, the more I think of it, the more I begin to feel we should keep the good general right where he is. We could tell him we’re a top secret outfit, and that Yamamoto has personally ordered that we find and rescue him, and then bring him to meet with the Admiral. I think he’d go for that one. Mister Ikida, what is it you’re pecking away at with that tablet?” He had noticed his Navigator, Michi Ikida, had been absorbed for some time.
“Sir? After the Chief Engineer’s discussion on the fuel situation, I was just doing some preliminary course plots to various locations. I think I can get us to Rabaul from here in six days at an average speed of 20 knots, which is the upper limit for cruising speeds. If we cruise at 15 knots, we’re looking at eight days, but we would have more in the fuel bunkers when we get there.”
“Either way, this fuel issue is going to loom bigger and bigger as we proceed here.” Harada was concerned, but his XO made a quick suggestion.
“What about Japanese fleet oilers? These operations must be supported by replenishment ships. In fact, that General down there might know something about it. If we tell him we need fuel, he might be able to order in support.”
“Can we even use their fuel?” The Captain looked at his Chief Engineer.
“If it’ll burn, I can use it, at least in the diesel system. That’s what we’ve been mainly sipping on this deployment. I’ve only had to use the Gas Turbine system when we needed acceleration. The diesel used here may not be as refined as the stuff we’re used to, but I have some additives aboard that could help. We might have a bit of indigestion, and I may not get the best efficiency from the propulsion system, but I can keep us running if you find me the fuel. As for speed, you’ll have it as long as I can feed those Gas Turbines. We’re at about 92% on that bunker. It’s a very refined fuel, more like aviation fuel, and we won’t find a drop of the stuff here, so keep that in mind.”
The Captain nodded. “Well if we can find diesel here, then I suppose it’s worth a try,” said Harada. “As to Yamamoto, what if he’s gone by the time we get there?”
“Perhaps we could have Ensign Shiota work up a coded signal requesting a meeting with the General,” said Fukada.