“Aye, aye sir,” Commander Bluebottle said.
Captain Rama smiled. “So, who do you think would win out of a world war two grudge match?”
Turtledove blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“You have a contest between the five world leaders; Churchill, Stalin, FDR, Hitler, Mussolini and Emperor Hirohito,” Captain Rama said. “All go in, unarmed; one comes out.”
“That’s a bloody silly death match,” Turtledove snapped, even though he understood that it reduced the tension on the ship. “And besides… that’s six world leaders.”
“Sue me,” Captain Rama smiled. “Ever since that woman started broadcasting from Germany, this has become a hot issue at the bookies.”
Turtledove smiled. “Well, Roosevelt is on a wheelchair, so he’s out quickly. Mussolini and the Japanese Emperor would be next – coming to think of it, where is the fat tub of lard these days?”
“Pretending he still rules Italy,” Rama said.
“I can’t remember if Stalin had any military experience, so he and Churchill might be out next,” Turtledove said. “Hitler had experience, but he wasn’t very healthy, but nor was Churchill at the time.” He hesitated. “Captain, do you think that 1940s Britain is back in our place?”
“Shit, the French would just take over,” Rama said grimly. “I can’t see them passing up the opportunity to…”
“Sir, the Trafalgar reports that it’s found the Japanese fleet,” Commander Bluebottle interrupted. “We’re vectoring a Sea King in to confirm the discovery, some four hundred kilometres from us.”
“Beat to quarters,” Turtledove ordered sharply. “Transmit the message to the fleet; Britain expects that every man will do his duty.”
“Aye, sir,” Captain Rama said. “Shall I order a drone launched?”
Turtledove nodded. “Order the submarines to move towards the Japanese ships,” he said. “Stand by all air defences; stand by Harriers for launch.”
“All ships report ready,” Commander Bluebottle said. “The fleet is fully at your command.”
Roughly four hundred kilometres to the north, Admiral Ozawa nodded as his men decrypted the sighting report. Seconds later, one of the tiny picket ships reported one of the helicopters flying high above the water, heading towards the fleet.
“They’ve seen us,” he said. He’d hoped that he could sneak closer before launching the attack, but the British had managed to locate them, perhaps with their marvellous radar. He’d kept his aircraft on the carrier decks, just to make certain that they presented a low profile, but there was no longer any need to hide.
He looked ahead, at Admiral Kurita’s battleline as it began to pick up speed, heading for a surface engagement, and gave the order he knew his crew had been waiting for. “Launch aircraft,” he said, and the four fleet carriers turned into the wind. Minutes later, Zero fighters, Nakajima torpedo-bombers and scout planes started to rise into the air, some taking on CAP, others heading towards the British fleet. Nearly three hundred aircraft; surely enough to soak up British missile fire and reach their targets.
“Launch Harriers,” Admiral Turtledove ordered, as the scope of the Japanese attack became clear. The entire British air contingent would be outnumbered; only fifty Harriers and Sea Harriers had been stuffed onboard the various craft, from the Ark Royal itself, the Marine Transport ship and the three adapted freighters.
“The drone reports four Japanese fleet carriers and two adapted transports,” Commander Bluebottle said calmly. Captain Rama was issuing orders as Ark Royal flash-deployed her aircraft, launching the AEW helicopters and the ASW helicopters.”
“Designate them for Tomahawk strikes from the frigates and destroyers,” Admiral Turtledove said. “Order the Chatham to hit that submarine; any Japanese submarines are to be sunk without warning.”
“Aye, sir,” Bluebottle said. In the distance, a burst of water blasted up from the surface as a Japanese submarine died. A console bleeped. “Sir, they just killed the AEW helicopter.”
“Noted,” Turtledove said. “Time for the drone to be on station?”
“Five minutes,” Bluebottle said. “Shall I order the strikes on the battleships as well?”
Turtledove shook his head. “Carriers first,” he said, as the tenor of the alarm changed. He looked up again; a swarm of Japanese aircraft could be seen in the distance. “Clear to engage.”
“I think they’re the Akagi, Kaga, Soryu and Hiryu,” Bluebottle said. “They were in service at the time; the other big carriers will be being worked up at the moment. They were all sunk at Midway.”
“Let’s sink them earlier then,” Turtledove said, as the flight of Japanese aircraft bore down on the fleet.
Squadron Leader Sato smiled as his force bore down on the British fleet. He could see it in the distance; around forty ships, shimmering in the sunlight. There were two carriers, but neither of them seemed likely to carry enough aircraft to pose a threat. He blinked; there were no aircraft, apart from the strange whirly-bird craft like the one they’d shot down on their march to the enemy fleet.
A streak of fire shot past him and slammed into a Nakajima torpedo-bomber. He blinked and looked upwards; enemy aircraft were coming out of the sun. As they flashed closer, his first inclination was to laugh, until he realised how much damage his force had taken. He’d commanded a flight of twelve Zeros; half of them had been wiped out by the strange weapons.
He muttered a command into his radio and yanked his plane sideways as a streak of tracer fire screamed past him. One of the strange aircraft had targeted him, bumping and weaving as it spun around in the air. It was amazingly manoeuvrable, Sato realised as he forced his Zero though a series of spins and turns, trying to hit it with his own weapons. The attack seemed to have continued anyway; the Nakajima torpedo-bombers were launching strikes… and they were dropping like flies. He drew a bead on the tail of the strange aircraft, and then it spun around, nearly ramming him in midair.
He fired as it swooped past and hit it, hit something. It retreated, leaving a trail of smoke, and he looked down. For a long moment, he thought that the Nakajima torpedo-bombers had scored spectacular successes, and then he realised that he was looking at some kind of anti-aircraft fire. A handful of torpedoes were in the water, closing in on the enemy ships… he saw one explode in a blast of fire, and then a hail of shells blasted through his Zero, scattering his remains onto the sea.
The frigate exploded in a blast of fire as a Nakajima torpedo-bomber rammed directly into the structure. Admiral Turtledove cursed; the Japanese aircraft were dropping like flies, but the rest were learning. Some daring pilots had realised that the machine guns, radar-guided through they were, couldn’t depress too low for fear of hitting their own ships, and were flying in low. The Sea Harriers picked them off, but not before they got their torpedoes off.
“Ocean’s been hit,” Bluebottle muttered. “Captain Anchovy thinks it’ll be fine, but wants SAR on standby to recover his crew.”
“Make it so,” Turtledove muttered. “What about the drone?”
“Getting real-time coverage now,” Bluebottle said. “It’s the Akagi, Kaga, Soryu and Hiryu all right; we don’t recognise the converted transports. The battleships are still oncoming; they’ll be on us in around ten minutes.”