"If I may, Admiral Yamamoto, this is the crux of our dilemma. What sort of men could do such a thing? you ask. Whereas I say, what sort of world produced them? What paths led them to their destiny? Moertopo tells us, and the library files on the Sutanto confirm, that the Allied force that arrived here represents a pinnacle of military technology. What we must ask and answer quickly is-how did this come about?

"I would say the question is even more important than determining how they arrived. That they are here is an established fact. How they will change events, is not."

"I think I understand your point, Major. You are less concerned with artifacts such as rockets than with historical potential. Does the Axis have the potential to prevail in this conflict?"

"Until now, I would have said no."

"And I would have agreed with you," said Yamamoto, raising his hand to forestall any protest from Hidaka.

"Even now," continued Brasch, "with everything in flux, the advantage lies with the Allies because of the manpower and vast productive potential of the English-speaking world. True, we have both benefited from a windfall, but they-like us-have received a finite gift. Missiles, once fired, can never be fired again. On the other hand, the knowledge of those missiles cannot now be withdrawn."

"Which means what?" Hidaka demanded. "That we are to be destroyed more efficiently by American factory workers? You contradict yourself, Major Brasch. You just said that we couldn't hope to produce these superweapons for many years. If we cannot, neither can they."

"Indeed," said Yamamoto, "but the issue may not have been decided. Moertopo, from your understanding, did this Kolhammer command a force capable of deciding a war against the combined resources of the entire Axis?"

Ali Moertopo felt the full weight of expectation fall on him. His first instinct was to dissemble, but a finely honed sense of self-preservation suggested that honesty was in fact called for. None of these men was a fool. With time to study the files on his vessel, they could find their own answers. But if Yamamoto came to value his opinion, he could trade on it.

Nevertheless, the gilded cage didn't fool him. His life still hung in the balance.

"If his battle group had survived the journey here intact, they would sweep you from the oceans in a day," he said. "Without satellite coverage, it might take a short while to fix the position of your fleets, but once found they would be sunk to the last ship without the loss of a single American life. However, as I understand it, his carrier has been crippled and grave damage was inflicted on the rest of the task force."

Or I wouldn't be here.

Yamamoto leaned back in his chair and regarded the Indonesian like a cat considering a feathered breakfast. "You base this on the signals you intercepted when Kolhammer arrived?"

"There was a lot of traffic."

Yamamoto barely moved his head as he grunted noncommittally.

"How long before they are repaired?"

The query was directed at Moertopo, but Brasch smiled. "If I may," he said. "Here we find the Allies entrapped by the same problems that face us. Am I right to assume, Lieutenant, that a ship as large and complex as the Clinton-is that her name?-will spend a good deal of her life in a very specialized docking facility, undergoing maintenance and refit?"

"I think about one year out of three would be right," guessed Moertopo.

"But of course, those facilities did not come with you, did they?"

"No, of course not."

"So you see, Admiral, already the specter of this supership begins to recede. They will be able to manage some repairs from the stocks of materiel they carry with them, but I suspect they will be severely restricted in what they can achieve. Moertopo, quickly, those fighter-bombers they carried, what did you call them?"

"Raptors."

"Yes, thank you. Can you build a Raptor from scrap metal in the hold of a ship like the Clinton? No. I thought not. So the planes they lost in the flight deck explosion, they are gone forever."

Yamamoto appreciated Brasch's line of reasoning. It paralleled his own. However, he didn't want to rush headlong into any decision. That sort of precipitate action would lead to annihilation-as history would confirm. So he gave Brasch no sign of encouragement, choosing instead to play devil's advocate.

"But with the missiles these ships carry, they could still cripple us before we even knew we had been targeted."

"Indeed they could," said Brasch. "We must ascertain how many they may retain, in order to fashion a worst-case scenario."

Hidaka had held his patience while the discussion circled around, but now he jumped at an opening.

"If these ships are such a mortal threat, we have no choice but to strike at them as we struck at the American carriers in Pearl Harbor."

"And look how well that worked out," smirked Brasch.

Moertopo thought Hidaka's head might pop right off, so deeply did he color at the remark.

"You insult the man who devised that master stroke!" he spat.

Yamamoto lifted his shoulders and grimaced slightly. "Do not draw your blade on my account, Commander. I am more than capable of defending my honor. The major has a point. If that operation had been successful, we would not have troubled ourselves over a battle at Midway. We failed to achieve the killing blow at Hawaii. We should have pressed the issue on the day and driven the Americans from the islands entirely. Just as the fuhrer, Major Brasch, should not have turned his back on the United Kingdom in order to pursue a political crusade in Russia. Right there, in the opening moments of this war, we both lost our way."

Brasch simply nodded, crossed his arms, and said, "It was madness."

Hidaka sneered, "You would not be so free with your opinions if Herr Steckel were present."

Brasch favored the Japanese naval officer with his most frigid stare.

"You may have judged Steckel well," he said softly, "but you do not know me at all."

Moertopo, who sat between the men and had been trying to render himself invisible, tensed, expecting to be caught between two flailing madmen. The thought made him long for home and the joys of pirated satellite TV, fast food, and freedom of a sort.

"Gentlemen," said Yamamoto, "do not waste your considerable energies on each other. We have common foes, perhaps closer than we realize. Commander Hidaka, Major Brasch, I need the technical analysis to continue. Your Captain Kruger can oversee that process, Major. I want you two, however, to concentrate on historical material pertaining to this war. Lieutenant Moertopo, I am led to believe that a wealth of such material remains within your electronic library."

"Yes, yes of course."

"Good, then," Yamamoto declared. "Waste no more time. I will see you in four days, when you will explain to me and me alone exactly what would have gone wrong for us in this war, and how you think we might avoid those mistakes. I may or may not heed your advice, but nevertheless, I expect you to give a full report. Spare nobody in your censure. Not me, not the cabinet, and not even the fuhrer himself, Herr Major. That is why you shall report to nobody but me. I expect that if you perform this task properly, it could cost you your lives. I shall try to see to it that doesn't happen."

Yamamoto grinned wickedly at that. Brasch seemed to appreciate the joke more than Hidaka. Moertopo didn't find it funny in the least.

"Yet, there is the matter of my shadow," said Brasch. "Herr Steckel is a true believer, convinced of the fuhrer's infallibility. He will not appreciate this new line of inquiry."

"We shall see," replied Yamamoto.