When Damiri had located a block of intercepts indicating that the Clinton had exploded, Moertopo had suppressed a horrified grimace. He could have wrung Kolhammer's neck at that point. How could he allow himself to be knocked over by these pygmies? If these stupid Americans all killed each other down there, where on earth was he supposed to run to when he had the chance?

For the first time since awakening with Hidaka's gun jammed in his face, he actually contemplated throwing his lot in with the Japanese. Trying to plot a course through the contrary waters of fate was turning out to be more difficult than he had imagined. Hidaka certainly gave no indication that he was ready to play out the leash even a fraction. Furtively scoping out the armed Japanese guards ringing his CIC, watching his every move, Moertopo began to doubt they would ever wriggle out of the yoke which now restrained them.

"It's a Jap ship, a nip bastard for sure," cried an American flier over his radio. "I'm going in. I'm going to…"

The speakers crackled for a second with the recorded sound of a dive-bomber disintegrating under the impact of a barrage.

"What was that?" Hidaka demanded to know.

"At a guess, Commander," Moertopo replied, "a defensive close-in weapons system known as Metal Storm. I doubt a bolt of lightning could sneak through. That pilot had no chance."

"Fascinating," snapped Hidaka, "but that's not what I meant. He said he saw a Japanese ship. But you told us that Nagumo's force would be nowhere near the Americans yet."

The speakers continued to crackle with snatches of dialogue, some of it still referring to a Japanese ship. Admiral Kakuta gave him a frozen look that made clear the consequences of betrayal. Moertopo held his up hands, palms out, begging for a chance to explain.

"We had a ship with us, a Japanese stealth cruiser, the Siranui. That's what they're talking about. It probably shot down that plane."

"A Japanese ship attached to an American fleet?" scoffed Hidaka.

Moertopo shrugged. "You lost the war, Commander. I have already told you that. You were annihilated. The defeated do not get to dictate terms. In my time Japan is a baseball-playing democracy and a staunch American ally."

He was taking a risk, speaking so bluntly, with the Japanese officer already incensed. But Moertopo judged that the truth was his best defense. Kakuta murmured softly and quickly to Hidaka, the older man's hand restraining the younger one's temper. When he spoke again, it was clear that Hidaka nearly choked on the words.

"I apologize for my outburst, Lieutenant Moertopo. An understandable reaction, I'm sure you would agree."

"Yes. Of course."

"The admiral asks you to explain the nature of this ship. The Siranui, I believe you called it."

Ali Moertopo patted his systems engineer on the shoulder and motioned for him to turn down the volume of the recordings. Desperate voices still filled the CIC, but in the background now.

"We can review the intercepts later," said Moertopo. "You will need to know what sort of damage the Americans have inflicted on each other…" He carefully neglected to add that he himself would need to know exactly what had happened, as well. And whether the Nuku was down there with them.

"The Siranui," he continued, "is a Japanese adaptation of a standard U.S. Nemesis cruiser. Its arrays are perhaps even a little better than the originals, but it doesn't have as much firepower. In this context, however, it has more than enough. That one ship could sink your entire force, Admiral."

While Hidaka relayed his comments, Moertopo instructed another sysop to bring up some images and cutaways of a Nemesis cruiser on one of the center's flatscreens. Hidaka finished speaking with the admiral and turned back to Moertopo.

"The admiral wants to know about the captain of this Japanese ship. What sort of a man is he? Will he recognize his duty to the emperor?"

"Will he join you, you mean? I have no idea. I've never met him. Captain Djuanda has had occasion to deal with him, but he is still unconscious."

"What is your feeling, though, Lieutenant?" Hidaka asked, his eyes on the big screen, greedily drinking in the stored vision of the Nemesis cruiser.

"I may be wrong, but my feeling is that he would be unlikely to see the benefit of aligning himself with you."

Hidaka rolled the words around in his mouth like a handful of poison pebbles. Admiral Kakuta accepted the answer without any visible reaction. He said only one word in reply.

"Why?"

"You are asking me to explain the mind of a man I have never met," said Moertopo. "I am really just guessing, but I imagine that he-not me, but he-would hold your government responsible for taking Japan into a war it could not win. I don't know what he might do under such circumstances, but he is not of your time. His view of the world is different."

"But his duty as a warrior is eternal," Hidaka protested. "His duty is to the emperor. Not to the emperor's enemies."

"He may see his duty as belonging to Japan."

"But we are Japan!"

"Not his idea of it."

"Ideas! Damn your ideas! The emperor is descended from gods! It is our destiny to serve him."

Moertopo could feel the ground shifting dangerously. Hidaka was becoming overheated. Kakuta, who could not follow the discussion fully, was growing similarly agitated. And Moertopo was playing devil's advocate on behalf of a man he had never met, and probably never would. If he pressed this case too far, they might leap to the assumption that he agreed with the unknown captain's treasonous behavior.

Time to pour oil on troubled waters.

"Admiral Kakuta," he said as soothingly as possible, "I am not responsible for the world I came from, nor for the men who came with me. I will assist you because I understand that it will assist my own countrymen in this time and in the future. If the officers aboard the Siranui prove traitorous and unreliable, there may be other ways of dealing with them-luring them into a trap, for instance, where they might be directly confronted by their treachery. They may then see reason, and choose the correct path. Or not. But the Siranui itself, which is undeniably the property of Japan, might then be turned over to her rightful owners."

He knew he was talking a lot of crap, but his situation was precarious, and it was crucial to convince these two to trust him before they went off on some hysterical banzai charge of indignation, lopping off heads and arms with gay abandon to salve their wounded pride.

Kakuta, he was relieved to see, calmed visibly and nodded as Hidaka translated for him. Moertopo put the few seconds grace to good use, and asked for an update from signals engineer Damiri. In fact, there had been a development, but Moertopo was unsure how it might play with the Japanese.

They noticed the perplexed look on his face.

"You have something to tell us?" Hidaka demanded.

"Yes. Our discussion appears to have been premature. Sub-Lieutenant Damiri informs me that the Siranui has been hit. A shell strike on the bridge, which has killed the captain and a number of officers."

Hidaka informed his superior, who had by this time regained his equilibrium. He digested the information without any visible sign of distress.

"The admiral asks if the ship itself was badly damaged?"

"I don't know, but probably not," said Moertopo. "The bridge of a modern warship is more for sightseeing than for fighting. There will be peripheral damage, and we know of casualties, but her combat capability should be relatively unaffected."

Kakuta smiled when this was relayed to him. He searched for a suitable reply, and when he spoke at last, it was in English.

"Good," he said.

His contented grin didn't leave Moertopo feeling cheery at all.