Stewart shuddered; even the most sexist producer had never addressed her in those oily tones. “I very much doubt that I will be permitted to bring more of them here,” she said. “This one is keyed only to me; anyone else would be unable to use it.”
“A great pity,” Goebbels said, and leered. It took all of her self-control to avoid slapping him hard enough to knock out some of his teeth. “You will, of course, allow us to see the finished… data stream before you transmit it back to England.”
“Of course,” Stewart said, and allowed Roth to lead her out of the room. Danger was doing what it always did to her hormones; she wondered if Roth felt the same. Didn’t men get erections before they died?
“He means it, you know,” Roth said quietly, leading her back to her quarters. Despite her knowledge of German, she knew that she would be quickly lost within the bunker if she tried to navigate on her own. “Don’t transmit without his permission. Even the Reichsführer-SS would be unable to protect you.”
“I’ll get on editing it,” she said, as they reached her quarters. “Unless, of course, you have something else you want to do?”
He grabbed her and kissed her, hard. It was hard and brutal and it was just what she needed at the moment, something to force the demons and the stress away for just a few more days. The lovemaking was savage, almost painful. Afterwards, she held him while he slept, plotting her next step.
Chapter Thirty-Eight: Strike South
HIMS Yamato
Japan
22nd September 1940
The Yamato was not fit for sea, not yet. Despite a massive effort, costing more money and resources than Yamamoto wanted to think about, the Combined Fleet would go to war without the ships it had enjoyed in the first war, a year in an alternate future. All of the other uncompleted battleships, except Yamato, had been cancelled; they would be converted into carriers and support ships for the carrier groups. Still, as Yamamoto’s flagship, the battleship was still officially in the fleet, even if it would not leave the harbour of one of Japan’s most important naval bases.
Yamamoto scowled. The fleet that was moving into position, slowly, but steadily, was nowhere near as powerful as the one that had fought in the shadowy alternate future, but it faced a weaker enemy. Perhaps, Yamamoto reminded himself; the British had managed to establish an air-link across their empire, despite Soviet interference.
“I told them not to trust the Russians,” Yamamoto snapped, knowing that there was no one in his stateroom to hear. Openly expressed disagreement with the Emperor – as represented by the War Cabinet – was considered treason, and you never knew who might have been subverted by the militarists. The Russian attack had stalled while they brought up their supplies and rearmed. For the first time in years, Yamamoto approved of the Army’s belief in the minimalist approach; the Russians wanted too much equipment and supplies for their advance, as well as purging the northern region of Iran of possible enemies.
He shook his head. It was the most complex action in the history of the Japanese Navy, and Yamamoto knew how dangerous it was. It wasn’t as complex as the one that had been launched in the other future, but it was against an enemy who was a dangerous unknown. Even the Germans hadn’t been able to provide a nuclear shield… and Yamamoto knew where the new plagues in China had come from.
“No, I am loyal,” he said to himself, and scowled. The attacks would go in, and they would succeed, and Japan would be triumphant. Even with the new technology, the British Empire in the Far East was weak; India with internal troubles and Australia with limited forces. Australia could be driven out of the war; Yamamoto had insisted on offering them good terms, once the first round of the fighting came to a close.
Angrily, he stood up, ceremonial sword clattering at his hip, and marched into the next stateroom. The Ambassador from the future waited there; he’d given her the stateroom in hopes of tapping her future knowledge. She looked up as he entered; a beautiful face, wrapped around with dark brown hair… and worry in her eyes. She was attractive, Yamamoto knew, and strange. He didn’t think that anyone would ever marry her; too much intelligence in women was a dangerous thing.
“The attack is about to begin?” Yurina asked. Her voice, firm and resilient, was weaker than it had been; the shock of finding herself in the past had stunned her. “You are about to commit Japan on the path to destruction?”
Her voice infuriated him. He felt like slapping her, like drawing his sword and slicing her open, just to silence her. “This time, they won’t make the mistake of even letting us regain economic strength, let alone military power,” she snapped. “This war…”
“This war has been commanded by the Emperor,” Yamamoto said, and knew that it was a lie. “We will force them out of the Pacific, giving us time to develop new weapons.”
“Is that the lie the Germans have told you?” Yurina asked. “You don’t have time! It takes years to develop advanced technology; even with a complete list of instructions, which you don’t have.”
“Silence,” Yamamoto snapped. Her face was very close; her eyes glaring into his. “You have a duty to help us!”
Yurina, inanely, giggled. “Admiral, do what you will. Attack Australia. Attack China. Attack India. You will still lose! Do as you want in the fullest exercise of free will; you will lose! The odds are so highly stacked against you that no amount of martial glory will dispel them.”
“We are going to attack Singapore and the Dutch East Indies,” Yamamoto said. “They have had very little time to defend them, and then we will move on to Australia, should the government refuse to leave the war.”
Yurina smiled. “Why should they trust your word?” She asked. “They don’t like you, and after this they won’t trust you at all.”
“The choice will be between abandoning the war, and Britain, on good terms, or being invaded,” Yamamoto said. He felt fury rising through him; how dare the woman question his decisions. A dull ache within his chest suggested the reason. He knew the odds against them; Yurina was putting his fears into words.
“They won’t submit,” Yurina said. “Why should they? Its not as if you can beat them.”
“We have to win,” Yamamoto said. “What other choice is there?”
“Only the one you never considered,” Yurina snapped. “The choice not to fight at all.”
Singapore Naval Base
Singapore
22nd September 1940
General Flynn allowed himself a quick smile, before cursing. They could have held Gibraltar, but the fucking politicians had insisted on giving it up, although not without bleeding the Spanish white first. Unfortunately, Singapore was a far harder place to defend, and the air bridge wasn’t as useful as he’d anticipated. He had nine Contemporary divisions and a scratch force of 2015 soldiers to hold Singapore, and his stockpile of weapons was lower than he’d dared fear.
He scowled. The natives operated on a rigid class system, one that refused to admit the value of non-whites, which had nearly led to one riot already when a black infantryman had refused to kowtow in front of a Contemporary businessman. The Europeans didn’t seem inclined to worry about the Japanese threat; their main objection had been to their precious golf course being converted into a temporary landing area for VTOL aircraft. The plans for creating a governing council, one that would allow all of the citizens to vote, had been greeted with united opposition.