That only made Yamashita more unhappy still. “How are we supposed to defend those islands if we can’t supply them?” he exclaimed.

“Sir, the Americans aren’t doing exactly what we expected them to.” Genda didn’t sound happy, either.

“We looked for them to go after our principal warships. Instead, as you say, they’re trying to hurt us economically, the way the Germans are trying to strangle England.”

Yamashita had dark, heavy eyebrows that gave him a fearsome frown. “All right, that’s what they’re trying. How in blazes do you stop them?”

“I have some good news, sir,” replied Genda, who’d saved it as a miser saved gold.

“Oh? What’s that?” General Yamashita sounded deeply skeptical.

“One of our H8Ks on patrol northeast of the islands spotted a U.S. submarine cruising on the surface. The seaplane attacked with bombs and cannon and sank it. No possible doubt, the pilot reports.”

Yamashita grunted. “All right, there’s one,” he admitted. “Even one is good news-I won’t try to tell you any different. But how many submarines have the Americans got in these waters? How many more are they building? And how many have we sunk?”

Minoru Genda needed a distinct effort of will to hold his face steady. Those were all very good questions. He didn’t have precise answers for any of them. He knew what the approximate answers were, though: too many, too many, and not enough, respectively. “We are doing everything we can, sir,” he repeated. “Before long, we’ll have some of that fancy electronic rangefinding gear in the H8Ks. That should help our searches.”

“While the enemy is on the surface, maybe,” Yamashita said. “What about when he’s submerged? How will you find him then? That’s when he does his damage, neh?”

“Hai,” Genda said. “But subs are slow while submerged, and have only limited range on their batteries. They do most of their traveling surfaced.”

“If the Americans come back here, how do we beat them back with no fuel for tanks or airplanes?” Yamashita demanded. “By the Emperor, how do we beat them back with no fuel for ships? Answer me that.”

“Sir, we are making our best effort.” Genda said the only thing he could. “If we had not made our best effort here, we would be fighting the war now in the western Pacific, not between Hawaii and the American mainland.”

All that got him was another grunt from the general. “I suppose the Army had nothing to do with the conquest of Hawaii,” Yamashita said with heavy sarcasm.

The way Genda remembered things, the Army hadn’t wanted much to do with Hawaii. The Army was worried about Russia, and about keeping as many men as it could in the endless China adventure. Admiral Yamamoto had had to threaten to resign before the stubborn generals would change their minds. The benefits of their change of mind were obvious-now. And now, of course, they found new things to complain about.

Genda knew only too well that he couldn’t explain that to General Yamashita. The other man not only outranked him but belonged to the service he would be maligning. What he did say once more was, “Sir we are doing everything we can do, everything we know how to do. If you can suggest other things we should be doing, we will be grateful to you.”

That made Yamashita no happier. “Zakennayo!” he burst out. “You’re supposed to know what to do about submarines. If you ask me about tanks or artillery, I can give you a sensible answer. All I want to know is, why are you having a harder time now than you were against the American aircraft carriers?”

“Aircraft carriers are easier to find than submarines, sir,” Genda answered. “And once we find them, we sink them. We’re better than the Americans are.”

“Aren’t we better with submarines, too?” Yamashita asked pointedly.

“With them? Probably,” Genda replied, though he wasn’t altogether sure of that. “At detecting them? At hunting them? Please excuse me, sir, but there the answer is less clear. The Americans have had more combat experience in those areas than we have, both in the last war and in this one.”

“Faugh!” Yamashita said-more a disgusted noise than a word. “We’re getting the experience, all right-getting it the hard way. All I have to tell you, Commander, is that we’d better put it to good use.”

“Yes, sir.” Recognizing dismissal when he heard it, Genda got to his feet and saluted. Yamashita sent him out of the Gold Room with an impatient wave.

With more than a little relief, Genda left. Yamashita hadn’t really called him in to confer; he’d called him in to rake him over the coals. And, from the Army commandant’s point of view, he had every right to do so. The Navy was supposed to protect the supply line between Hawaii and the rest of the Empire of Japan. If it didn’t, if it couldn’t…Then we have a problem, a serious problem, here, Genda thought unhappily.

He was heading for the koa-wood stairs to make his escape when someone said, “Commander Genda, isn’t it?”-in English.

He stopped and bowed. “Yes, your Majesty,” he answered in the same language.

“Why are you here today?” Queen Cynthia Laanui asked.

“Military matters, your Majesty,” Genda said, which was true but uninformative.

The redheaded Queen knew as much, too. She gave him an exasperated sniff. “Thank you so much,” she said, her sarcasm more flaying than Yamashita’s because it came from a prettier face in a softer voice.

“Let me put it another way, Commander-what’s gone wrong this time? You never come to the palace when things are going well, do you?”

“I should not discuss this,” Genda said.

“Why not?” Now the Queen’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Why shouldn’t I know what’s going on? Isn’t Hawaii allied to Japan? If anybody ought to be kept informed, don’t you think my husband and I should?”

“You-” Genda stopped. He couldn’t just come out and say, You’re an American. She was, of course: a fine, healthy specimen of an American, too. But if she was playing the role of Queen of Hawaii to the hilt…

“I am the Queen. I could order you sent to the dungeons.” That dangerous flash again. Then, half a second later, Cynthia Laanui’s eyes flashed again, in an altogether different way. It happened so fast, Genda wasn’t sure the two flashes weren’t really one-wasn’t sure, in fact, that he hadn’t imagined both of them. Except he hadn’t. She repeated, “I could order you sent to the dungeons…” Her nose wrinkled, and her laugh rang sweet as frangipani. “I could-except we haven’t got any dungeons, and nobody would follow the order if I was dumb enough to give it. Details, details.” She laughed again, on a slightly wrier note.

Genda laughed, too, and surprised himself when he did it. He bowed. “Your Majesty,” he said, and meant it more than he ever had before with either of the Hawaiian puppet monarchs. He surprised himself again by telling her about the freighters that had gone down in the channel between Kauai and Oahu.

“Oh, that, ” Queen Cynthia said, and he could not doubt she already knew about it. As if to confirm as much, she went on, “That story’s all over Honolulu-probably all over Oahu-by now. You couldn’t keep it a secret if you tried, not when people on the island could see the smoke.” She leaned forward a little, not to be provocative-she was provocative enough just standing there-but as a friend would in conversation with another friend. “Or is the secret part that it bothers you more than you want to let on?”

“Hai,” Genda said before he realized he should have answered, That’s none of your business.

Then-realization piled on realization-he saw that wouldn’t have helped, either. Only an immediate, convincing denial would have done him any good, and he couldn’t give her one.

“Is it so very bad?” she asked quietly.