The last shot was fired. The railgun was lowered into the hull, and a crew immediately began the process of replacing the old barrel with a new one.
Once clear of the harbor Ko gave the order to submerge most of the ship and sent a message to Admiral Chao: “Mission accomplished. Departing.”
The reply came quickly: “This moment will live for a thousand years. Congratulations.”
Try as he might Ko was unable to resist the feeling of pride that the admiral’s words produced. Ko sought to push it away.
The original plan, his part of it anyway, had been to use the Sea Dragon and her submarine escorts to ambush one or more Allied ships as they left Japan’s Yokosuka navy base. But now he wasn’t so sure. “There will be times you need to disengage from a fight so you can be in a position to fight another day.”
The great Chinese general, strategist, writer and philosopher Sun Tzu had written that in the 5th century BC. And Ko felt it in his bones. Rather than seek the enemy, he would let the enemy seek him. And if a fight ensued, then so be it.
Ko’s thoughts were interrupted by his executive officer Commander Shi. “Excuse me, sir. We have a situation. May we speak privately?”
Ko frowned. “What kind of situation?”
“One we should discuss privately.”
“All right, let’s duck into the chartroom.”
After asking the navigator to leave, Ko turned to Shi. “Okay, what’s up?”
Shi’s face was expressionless. “A villager killed one of the marines with a Samurai sword. Lieutenant Ma began to execute people. Lieutenant Jing shot him in the head. Then Jing took command and completed the mission.”
Ko stared. “You’re joking.”
“No, sir.”
“How do we know this?”
“Jing told the head of Communications who told me.”
“So, it’s all over the ship.”
“Yes, sir. But, strangely enough, there’s been no complaint from Lieutenant Ma’s marines.”
“Hmm,” Ko said. “That would suggest that he wasn’t popular. And that his noncoms agree with what Jing did.”
“I think so, yes,” Shi replied.
“Let’s convene a disciplinary panel, go through the motions, and find Jing innocent of murder before we reach Yulin. You might want to speak with a couple of noncoms ahead of time.”
Shi knew what that meant and nodded. The hearing would go smoothly.
CHAPTER TEN
Manado, Indonesia, aboard the Allied transport Agger
It was not just raining, it was pouring. Water pounded the ship’s decks as if determined to penetrate steel. Rain droplets ran down the window in Ryson’s cabin as he looked out across the bay. But his thoughts were elsewhere.
While Ryson and his boats had been up north rescuing pilots, the Chinese cruiser Sea Dragon had been on another rampage. Okinawa was the target this time. With support from launchers on the Chinese mainland the cruiser had been able to destroy dozens of command and control targets, and assassinate the Commander of U.S. Forces Japan.
It was depressing. Very depressing. And the only thing the media was focused on at the moment. As a result, the rescue mission had received scant attention. And a story which might have lifted spirits around the world was subsumed by grief.
Once clear of the fishing boats, the Armindales had been able to make good time. And it wasn’t long before Allied fighter planes appeared to protect them.
Now Ryson was seated at the cabin’s built-in desk, drinking coffee while he sought to plow through the pile of work that had accumulated during his absence. Supply requisitions, a disciplinary action, and a missing assault rifle. It went on and on.
The phone rang and Ryson picked it up. “This is Commander Ryson.”
“Of course it is,” Admiral Nathan said irritably. “Pack a bag, and be sure to bring a dress uniform. I’ll meet you at the gangway in half an hour. We’re flying to Port Moresby.”
“May I ask why?”
“Because General Haskell is pissed,” Nathan replied. “And no wonder … The attack on Okinawa could cost him his job. So, he’s going to hold a command conference and light a fire under senior management.”
Ryson took note of the way the situation had been framed. Haskell, and perhaps Nathan as well, saw the attack on Okinawa as a resume killer. “Yes, sir. I’ll see you in half an hour.”
Ryson put the receiver down. Rain pattered against the window. Kelsey’s family lived in Port Moresby. Would she be there? He hoped so.
***
Lieutenant Command “Gun Daddy” Greer was going home. That’s what his orders said. First to Washington D.C. for a recognition ceremony that the POWs would participate in. Then to the TOPGUN school where he would serve as XO. All over his objections. Because while Greer was eager to grab some leave, he wanted to fly planes. Not a desk.
But, in the words of the local interservice tasking officer, “I asked, and the people at the Pentagon said, ‘No fucking way.’ What if you were on a mission, got shot down, and were captured? Can you imagine what the Chinese would do to you? And the propaganda they would pump out?”
Greer could imagine. And knew the brass were correct. But, before leaving Manado, Greer wanted to say goodbye to Mary. So, he dashed from the hotel to the store across the street, where he bought a hat and a cheap plastic raincoat.
But when Greer stepped out into the rain, he realized that something was missing. And that was the 9mm pistol he’d been issued and “forgotten” to return. Not a must for visiting a graveyard. But nice to have without Dalisay as a guide.
After retrieving the weapon from his room Greer returned to the street. Rain rattled on plastic as Greer got his bearings. Three taxis were waiting, and he stuck his head into the first. “Do you speak English?”
“Speak English number one,” the driver replied.
Greer figured that was good enough, opened the rear door, and slipped inside. The smell of stale cigarette smoke permeated the air.
