He had considered that, after the long discussion that set them on this course. Hide the ship somewhere, beach it, then burn it to the ground to prevent any of its secrets from ever being discovered here. That was the safe course, one that might prevent them from influencing this history, but they had not seriously discussed that. It would have meant the entire crew would be marooned, and that they would live out their lives here, very special and knowing men and women, yet they would all have to be sworn to keep the secret they buried with the ship, and for the rest of their lives.
Yet they had never gone that deep. The meeting to decide things had bounced from concerns over fuel, a matter of self preservation if they were to keep the ship operational, and then to which side they might be on, with opinions and feelings running deep on both halves of that question. Clearly Fukada seemed to think and feel that they could not abandon Japan now, or ever return home again if they did. They would be strangers in this strange land, outcasts from their own nation and people, no matter which course they took. Every road left them pariahs. Now where was Fukada going with this?
“Sir… It is correct that our ship does not appear on any active duty register. The reason for this will be disclosed to Admiral Yamamoto, but to no one else. Those are our orders, and respectfully, they come from an authority beyond that which is vested in this Headquarters.”
In Fukada’s mind, it was now an all or nothing play to get this audience with Yamamoto. They could not allow themselves to run aground on the outer shoals of his staff here. That they had come this close, and so easily, was already a great windfall. Here was the Chief of Staff of the Combined Fleet, a most powerful man, but they needed to get to his boss, and as quickly as possible.
“Beyond this headquarters…” Ugaki smiled. “Then Nagano sent you?” This was the Chief of the Imperial Japanese Navy General Staff, and the one man now senior to Yamamoto himself.
“Sir, you press me for details that I cannot now give. This is understandable, but our instructions were very specific, and our oath prevents us from any other option. If you will grant us this brief meeting with the Admiral, all will be made clear.”
“I see… and if I refuse this audience?”
“Then we will have failed to carry out our orders, and would have no option other than seppuku.”
“Seppuku? I would be most happy to stand as kaishakunin in that instance, and even lend you my Tanto blade if you so desire. If that is the line you draw now between us, then write your death poem, Lieutenant Commander. That is another thing I find distasteful. That uniform… those insignia. You come here on a strange ship, flying the Japanese naval ensign, and yet you are clearly not regular navy.”
“No sir, we are not regular navy.”
“And you speak out of place, with your Captain sitting there like a deaf mute.”
Captain Harada was dumbstruck. Fukada’s subterfuge had left him in a most awkward position. He either had to play along, reinforcing the stack of lies his Executive Officer was laying on the table, or what? He could think of nothing else to say here. But Ugaki’s last statement prodded him, and he knew he had to speak. He turned now to Fukada, trying to muster the thunder of real anger.
“Lieutenant Commander… That will be enough!”
At that moment the door to the conference room opened, and there stood the legend himself, Isokoru Yamamoto, his face unmistakable to them both, broad head, soft thoughtful eyes that had a great hidden depth to them, and a aura of calm surrounding his placid features.
“Admiral Ugaki,” he said quietly. “Please show these two officers in. I wish to speak with them.”
Ugaki raised both eyebrows, looking from Yamamoto to Fukada, clearly surprised. “Very well,” he huffed, his eyes firmly on Fukada as he stood, quite abruptly, his arm extended to the door where the Admiral waited. Now General Imamura emerged, a satisfied look on his face, and his eyes also found Fukada as the two officers stood, instinctively saluting Yamamoto, who returned with a subtle gesture toward the open door.
Admiral Ugaki was clearly not happy, but cautious about saying anything further in front of Yamamoto. Then he thought the better of that, and spoke up.
“Admiral, may I join you?”
“In a moment,” said Yamamoto. “Please be so kind as to escort General Imamura to the officer’s dining room. Then come back here and join us.”
Ugaki hesitated briefly, then made a polite bow, and his arm gestured towards the door, showing General Imamura the way. He had not failed to notice the look the General gave the Lieutenant Commander, an almost conspiratorial glance. That was what he suspected here, with this strange ship, and two equally strange men in dress white uniforms with insignia that were clearly not regular navy.
The Captain had four bars and a star, when he should have four bars, with the last forming a circle, and then three stars on his shoulder boards. Who were these men? Were they Kempeitai as he had suggested, the secret police, or Tokkeitai, the equally shadowy group within the IJN? Were they sent here by Nagano, or someone higher in the civilian authority? As he escorted the General out, he could not help wishing he could see that impudent Lieutenant Commander slitting his belly as he proposed. Now he resolved to get the General to the officers dining room, and then return here as soon as possible to get to the bottom of this. Were these men searched? Did they pass a security check before they were sent up here?
Yamamoto waited for Ugaki and Imamura to leave, then gestured to the open door to his stateroom. “Gentlemen,” he said. “General Imamura was most insistent that I speak with you. Please come in.”
Now Fukada smiled inwardly, for he had gone to Imamura’s quarters on the ship the previous night to secure the General’s support for just this reason. He figured that Imamura would be granted immediate access to Yamamoto, and if he could persuade him to make the request, it might get them through any red tape to see the Admiral.
“General,” he had said, “We have saved you from a certain death, and now I ask a favor of you. We have orders to speak with Admiral Yamamoto, but, the navy being what it is, we are likely to be tied up with a member of the headquarters staff. Can you help us?”
“Certainly,” Imamura had told him. “I owe you a great debt, and I would be happy to make the request on your behalf.”
How they came to that understanding, Fukada would keep to himself for some time. Yet it had worked. The General had made good his promise, and there they were at long last, face to face with the Admiral himself.
Now, thought Fukada, what do we really tell him here that will make any difference? The Captain wasn’t prepared for the line I took with Ugaki. It took him a while, but he finally realized it was all or nothing here. Let’s hope he understands what we must now do. Let’s hope all of us understand the gravity of this situation. We’re here, just like Sergeant Kimura put it. We’re here, and we’re going to matter, because, by God, I intend to make certain of that.
He smiled, realizing the challenge before him, but warming to the prospect of all it might bring, of everything he might change with the ship sitting out there, looking like a fast seaplane tender, but something very much more.