Both had struck, as had at least two other bombs, and black mushrooms roiled above splashes of greasy orange fire. But as he’d feared, he could see no gaping holes beneath them, vomiting flame. He continued his tight bank, hoping for a better look. Maybe they’d gotten some fire through the open ports at the top? No. They must have closed them just as we released, he realized. Still, that may be something… The burning fragments of a Nancy were in the water, disappearing aft of the monster as it churned forward, and Tikker knew he’d lost at least one of his planes and two talented young people. Whether it had been shot down or just crashed into the ship didn’t matter; its crew was doubtless dead, and they hadn’t even hurt the thing! He quickly leveled off and looked around. Another Nancy was off his starboard wing, apparently still trying to match his maneuvers. He sighed with some relief and led his surviving companion back through the black smoke and southward. Only then did he try to gauge the success of his other squadrons.
The attack on the transports had gone well. Fiery columns of gray smoke stood, slanting slightly, against the bright sky. Some of the smaller monster ships were burning as well, a few dead in the water. They were vulnerable, at least. Great, falling fires crept down toward the sea in the distance to join other smoldering, sinking heaps. So. His pursuiters had done good work against the zeppelins too, but… Burning specks lay upon the water here and there, and he knew he’d lost other planes as well. Turning back to see the big monsters again, he saw them all still steaming relentlessly forward, the fires from the bombs already diminishing. One still smoldered, he thought. Maybe some fire did get into that one, but the rest…
“Send to all squadrons: Regroup on me as soon as all ordnance is expended; then fly to Salissa to refuel and rearm. Send to CINCWEST and the Fifth Air Wing: Attack successful against Indiamen and smaller iron ships, but ineffective against larger ones. The enemy has dangerous, close-range antiair capability, so watch out. Suggest concentrate on small boys for now, but enemy heavies may be vulnerable when antiair is in use. Propose a combined assault on them using both the First and Third Wings after the current sorties have rearmed.”
The air attack that swirled above and around General of the Sea Hisashi Kurokawa’s Grand Fleet for the last several days had been… interesting, certainly. But the frustration it caused was threatening to send him into one of the almost incapacitating rages he’d guarded against for so long. There’d been reports of the enemy aircraft for a long time, of course, and Kurokawa had appreciated the threat and even taken precautions, but until the first attacks slashed down on him, he secretly hadn’t expected much. Now he was, frankly, amazed that the Americans and their pet monkeys had put such capable craft-and in such numbers! — into the air.
Kurokawa’s conventional ships-mere transports, as far as he was concerned-built along the age-old East Indiaman lines the Grik had used for centuries, had been savaged during his plodding advance. He’d started with nearly two hundred of them, filled with fifty thousand more of the new Grik he’d been so instrumental in creating. Some had been lost to sea monsters, of course, but more than half had been bombed into sinking torches by the highly effective enemy air. He didn’t really care about dead Grik, regardless how elite, but knew General Esshk would be furious. He finally released the ships after nightfall of the first day to make their own way to the coast. There was no port they could reach before daylight, and trying for one would leave them helpless again beneath the sky, so he’d ordered them to run themselves aground on the closest shore so the troops might survive to report to General Niwa, who Kurokawa knew was in the south.
Kurokawa did care about the loss of many of his towed zeppelins, armed with Muriname’s special bombs, and he’d released them immediately-to make for the concealed aerodromes where Muriname himself had begun hoarding airships after his own arrival two weeks before. Sadly, there had not yet been enough of the special bombs completed for Muriname to bring more than a few at the time, and none had been sent since. Kurokawa had been bringing more himself and there was no way to know how many of the towed zeppelins survived. Hopefully, the enemy had been too focused on destroying the transports to chase fleeing airships, but he had to assume most were destroyed. The “specials” might now lack the punch of numbers he’d hoped for, but maybe there would be enough-and it was still possible he wouldn’t need them.
What annoyed Kurokawa most were the losses of cruisers and battleships his fleet had endured-many before it ever came in contact with the enemy! The capital ships of his invincible fleet, ships that had taken almost two years to build, had dropped like flies before ever firing a shot. He’d been faced with the fact that regardless of how well constructed and mighty his navy was, his engines, all of them, were kuso. They were simply too crude and inefficient for reliable service-and, of course, when the machinery didn’t fail, the Grik engineers did. He had a sprinkling of Japanese engineers in his battleships, but even they were plagued by breakdowns. For once, no suspicion of treachery entered his mind; he felt secure that all his engineers were dedicated to him and the parts of his mission he’d revealed to them, but if the fundamental design of his engines wasn’t at fault, then shoddy, crude construction was to blame.
He’d started with fifty Azuma — class cruisers and a dozen ArataAmagi- class battleships, but he’d lost half his battleships and almost thirty cruisers just getting here! Many of the damaged cruisers would be along eventually or make it home under sail power. His helpless battleships didn’t have that capability, however, and he’d been forced to send operational cruisers to take them under tow. Some would be repaired and would rejoin the fleet, but he smoldered. He’d taken consolation in the fact that he still had twenty-three cruisers and six battleships to destroy the enemy. More than enough, he’d thought.
All his ships were lumbering, gawky-looking things, to his sensibilities, but they could all strain to accomplish ten knots and carried heavy batteries. The cruisers were virtual copies of Japan’s very first French-built ironclad ram, Kotetsu/Azuma. Designed to use sail and steam, and powered by double expansion engines, they’d taken almost as much effort-if not materials-to build as his battleships. He’d hoped their hundred-pounder smoothbores would make short work of the powerful American frigates.
His battleships were his pride and joy, and resembled nothing more than monstrous, eight-hundred-foot, four-stack versions of one of the first ironclad warships that fought in the American Civil War. He couldn’t remember which side it was on-it was the one without a turret-but that didn’t matter, and the irony was amusing. His own ArataAmagi was the flagship, and all the others were essentially identical. ArataAmagi had an eighty-foot beam, two engines, and four boiler rooms. She mounted a four-hundred-foot sloping casemate amidships that protected 32 hundred-pounder guns behind three feet of hard, laminated timber and six inches of armor plate. Kurokawa would have preferred more armor, but when he first learned about the enemy aircraft, he’d been forced to add more sloping plates atop the originally flat upper deck, fo’c’sle, and fantail to protect against falling bombs. The ships were already somewhat top-heavy. He was glad he’d taken those precautions now, and they had worked to some degree. The overhead protection he’d added to his battleships kept bombs off exposed wooden decks, and the small, high-angle cannons loaded with grapeshot had accounted for a number of attacking aircraft. But the enemy had recognized the momentary vulnerability their use revealed and had managed to set barely containable fires in the upper casemates of two of his battleships. Much as he hated not being able to fight back, he’d been forced to order that his only air defenses not be used again.
Still, the enemy could have nothing that would pierce his armor or they’d have used it already, and he’d steamed ahead, confident of victory.
Unfortunately, so far, the enemy had not obliged him with a meeting engagement. Their air attacks were almost constant-so he knew he had to be close to their fleet-but it remained tantalizingly out of reach. He had to find it soon or retire to refuel-which would show enemy scouts where his primary coaling depot had been established on the west coast of India! Worse, his cruisers had proven sadly vulnerable to bombs from above, and he was down to nine fire-scorched survivors.
Pacing back and forth in the heavily armored pilothouse of ArataAmagi, Kurokawa fumed. As before, with his old beloved Amagi, he had all the power in the world but was frustratingly unable to bring it to bear! He considered sending the cruisers away. They were fine ships for what they were designed to do (if one forgave the engines), and at this rate, they would all be destroyed sooner or later. Bachiatari aircraft! Nothing had really scratched his battleships, despite countless bombs hurled at them, and they could easily handle the enemy fleet alone-if they could catch it… He stopped pacing and stared ahead through the viewing slits in the armor. Or threaten something it has to protect!
“Captain Akera,” he said, keeping his voice as calm as he could. Akera had been a lowly ensign on Amagi, but came highly recommended, and he was loyal. All Kurokawa’s battleship commanders were Japanese, as were most of their officers.
“Yes, General of the Sea?” Akera replied nervously.
“We cannot continue like this,” Kurokawa said flatly. “We haven’t the fuel to chase the enemy forever when
