Turning Point (Kirov Series Book 22)

by John Schettler

  “If I may, sir,” said Fukada. “We knew these would be your first questions, Admiral, and rightfully so. We will give answer, but I must ask you to please grant us the benefit of every doubt as we proceed. To answer you, our actions will speak louder than words. Yes. It is understandable that you would think we are imposters, or that our ship also flies that ensign to deceive. But I assure you, as my Captain has said, we are Japanese, and honorable men, sworn to the service of our nation just as you are. Allow us to prove this to you.”

  “Prove it?”

  “Yes sir. If you will grant us your forbearance, then all will be made clear.” He glanced at the Captain, an expectant look in his eyes, and Yamamoto thought he perceived a silent accord pass between the two men. They were in different bodies, but clearly of one mind, and though his suspicion darkened somewhat with this observation, the accusation he had just leveled at these men was a very serious one. This was, in fact, a life or death situation for them now, for if it were proved that they were imposters, they would certainly meet with swift and unfriendly justice.

  “Admiral,” said the Captain. “Is there a weather deck convenient where we can have a view of our ship? We have something aboard that will be of great interest to you—something that can be seen and immediately understood, where a thousand words might fail to convey the meaning.”

  Yamamoto frowned. “You seem to be spending a good many words here, and end up saying nothing. Yet given the consequences of your actions, which I hope you both understand, I will indulge you. He called for his orderly. “Lieutenant Saito. Summon the Marine Guard, and then escort these men to the upper weather deck off the main bridge. I will join them in a moment.”

  The Captain and First Officer knew implicitly that they had just been granted a great boon, but they also knew that their lives may now depend on the outcome. Earlier, they had gone round and round as to how they might convince Yamamoto to give them a fair hearing. The notion of simply telling him what they themselves still saw as an impossible truth, seemed fruitless. They would be taken for lunatics if they were to say they had come here from a far off future, on a ship built in the Japan of the 21st Century. Yet, Fukada had come up with the only solution that might work—seeing was believing. They had stared at Mogami class cruisers, seen Imamura in the flesh, the very image of the man in every photograph they could find in their ship’s library data. Without some similar shock to the senses, they could never get this man to believe their story, or have any credibility.

  So they had devised this simple plan. Stand there on the deck of Yamato and show the Admiral something that even his mighty ship could not do. Both men were wired with small transmitters, which could be activated by merely pinching the gold pip on their collar. They both stood up, facing Yamamoto, and making a respectful bow, Futsurei, that they then extended even further, beyond the normal 45 degrees to Saikeirei. The former was expected with anyone in rank or authority above you, the latter reserved for rare and special occasions, for it conveyed profound respect or the deepest regret.

  Then they were escorted out, under guard, and the adrenaline rose in each man’s chest as they walked the stairway up. This had better work, thought Fukada as they went. If it doesn’t, we won’t be able to bow our way off this ship. Everything depends on this… everything….

  Yamamoto frowned, shaking his head when the door to his stateroom was closed. The effrontery of these men! Yet his curiosity had the better of him. They were very strange, and he knew his Chief of Staff had sat with them briefly, and come to some conclusion about them, so their request to adjourn to a weather deck allowed him the opportunity to consult with Ugaki. There came a quiet knock on the door, and the Chief of Staff was shown in.

  “Well,” he said, “what is it they had to speak with you about?”

  “I do not know that just yet,” said Yamamoto. “It is clear that they were not regular navy, and that ship isn’t ours either. And yet they are obviously Japanese.”

  “That means nothing,” said Ugaki. “You and I both have many enemies, and as many Japanese among them as Americans or British.”

  “Only too true,” said Yamamoto. “Your thoughts on this?”

  “They may be Kempeitai, or Tokkeitai practicing their little security dance of Kikosaku. Then again, they might have been sent here by Nagano, or someone higher in the civilian authority.”

  “Why?” asked Yamamoto. “Surely not to spy on us. If the Tokkeitai wanted to do that, they would be very sly about it. They would not come here on a ship like that, and dressed as they were. It would only invite the very questions I asked of them, and the rebuke I gave them in no uncertain terms.”

  “Have you sent them to the brig?”

  “Not yet. They were escorted under guard to the upper weather deck off the bridge. Kindly accompany me there.”

  “What for?”

  “That remains to be seen. They said they had something on their ship I would be very interested in—something they wish to show me. If nothing else, they have piqued my curiosity. They both know their fate will be decided by what happens next, and surely they knew that when they came here. It was clear to me that whatever they want to reveal, it was pre-arranged by the two of them.”

  “Pre-arranged? What if they have some mischief in mind?” said Ugaki. “Remember, there have been death threats. That is why Yonai secured this position for you as head of Combined Fleet when you lost your position as Vice Navy Minister—to get you out of the country and avoid assassination. Frankly, I took one look at these men and began to feel they were up to something here. They would not answer my questions, saying they were sworn to speak only to you, and the junior officer said he would have to commit seppuku if they failed to do so. Imagine that. The gall of the man! I was most eager to lend him my sword, and said as much. They may be operatives of the secret police, and in that case your life may be in danger now. I was even reluctant to see them enter your stateroom alone as you permitted. Something is very shady with these two. To begin with, where did they get that ship?”

  “They have not answered that question just yet.”

  “Then let us remove a few of their fingernails and find out before we put the sword to them.”

  “Not just yet,” said Yamamoto, holding up a hand. “Then we begin to act like the Tokkeitai ourselves. I will indulge them briefly here. If this thing they wish to show me does not answer our questions, then I will deal with them, rest assured.”

  “What could they show you? Perhaps they merely want to get you out onto the open deck and into an exposed position. What if there is a marksman out there on that ship waiting to assassinate you?”

  “Then he will have to be a very good shot,” said Yamamoto with a chuckle. “We are anchored over 2000 meters from their ship. They are way over on the far side of the bay.”

  “I still don’t like it…” Ugaki fumed.

  “Do not worry about those death threats. Come. Let us go up and see the final act of this little drama. They will either be dining with us this evening in the officer’s hall, or eating their last meal on the cold metal deck of the brig.”

  * * *

  The way up did not take long, and soon Yamamoto and Ugaki emerged from the side hatch in the high conning tower of the bridge. Lieutenant Commander Fukada could see the stern aspect in their faces, and knew that this was the moment of truth. Yet he knew they had to enter the Tiger’s den one way or another here, and now he only hoped the demonstration they had arranged would be enough to impress these men. They made another respectful bow, and then asked if they might proceed.

  “Please do so,” said Ugaki. “We have things of importance to attend to.”

  The Captain nodded, pinched off his collar and spoke quietly, as if to himself. Then he turned to the Japanese officers and gestured to his ship across the bay.

  “Gentlemen,” he said. “I invite you to witness a brief demonstration. Please watch closely…”

  A moment later, Ugaki squinted at the dista
nt ship. Then moved to the nearby stationary binoculars, his face lost and only his bald head visible above the lens cups. He thought he saw something rise slowly off the aft deck, hovering briefly over the ship, and then rising swiftly up, gaining altitude and coming their way. As it approached, they heard a quiet thrum, and Fukada turned to Yamamoto.

  “Sir, the Captain has asked me to explain this brief demonstration. That is a small target craft. We call it a drone, and I have given instructions that it should be flown closer to Yamato so you may observe it more closely.”

  Yamamoto, looked at him, unimpressed. “You called me up here to see the launch of a target plane? Any ship in this task force could do as much.”

  “Sir, this drone is unmanned. There is no pilot. It is being operated remotely by a technician on our ship. If you happened to notice, it rose directly up from our aft deck, unassisted by any catapult as with the launch of a seaplane. In a moment you will see that we can bring this craft to a complete halt, and hover in place.”

  True to Fukada’s word, the small craft approached to a point where they could see the whirling props, four of them, all pointed upwards. Yamamoto could see that it had no wings or tail at all, and was unlike any aircraft he had ever seen. He raised an eyebrow, curious, yet the object seemed almost like a toy in his estimation. It drew closer, hovered in place, which he found quite interesting, and then on an order from the Captain it slowly began to climb, a bright strobe light now flashing to easily mark its position in the blue sky. It moved swiftly, angling out over the center of the bay, which was five to seven kilometers wide at this point, framed off by two islands near the city.

  They had decided to fly it out over the bay to the south and then shoot it down with a RIM-66H from the Vertical Launch System.

  “Please watch the forward deck of Takami closely sir.” Fukada pointed, and the Captain gave the order quietly, heard clearly by Senior Lieutenant Hideo Honjo back on the ship. Seconds later, they heard what sounded, and looked, like an explosion on the forward deck of the distant ship. Then something arced up with a fiery yellow tail and a trail of white smoke, the audible roar heard ever louder as it streaked into the sky. The target drone was hastening south out to sea, but the missile tracked it unerringly, homing in and catching it with lightning quick speed. Then came the explosion, and Ugaki’s head was out from behind the stationary binoculars. He watched, gawking, as the last vestige of the missile strike slowly dissipated.

  The noise sent many of the crew out onto the decks, and some even rushed to man AA guns, until Admiral Yamamoto turned and growled at Ugaki.

  “I gave no order that this ship was to come to battle stations. Tell those men to stand down at once!”

  Ugaki nodded, shouting down at a Lieutenant near one of the Type 96 25mm AA guns. Then Fukada turned to explain.

  “Sir, what we have demonstrated here is the use of a controlled guided missile, or rocket. Our ship is equipped with these weapons for air defense, and they are capable of seeking out and finding an enemy aircraft at ranges as close as you just witnessed, or as far away as ninety nautical miles for this version.”

  Yamamoto looked at him. “Did you say ninety miles?”

  “Yes sir, nautical miles. That would be roughly 166 kilometers, and we also have extended range variants that can hit targets much farther out than that, and with the same precision and accuracy as you just witnessed.”

  “It can hit something that far away? Impossible. How would you even see the target to aim such a rocket?”

  “Our ship will see it sir, with its highly sophisticated radars, and once launched, the rocket itself has its own radar to find and home in on its assigned target.”

  “Not possible,” said Ugaki. “Ninety nautical miles?”

  “Most defensive fire missions might occur inside that range,” said Fukada, but yes sir, the rocket has that range. Now then, we have one last thing to show you, and then perhaps we can return to the Admiral’s stateroom and answer any further questions you may have.”

  The last thing they had decided to demonstrate was the SH-60K helicopter, which now launched off the aft deck of the Takami, the distinctive thrum of its rotors pounding the air as it climbed up.

  “With your permission sir, the Captain will instruct that aircraft to approach for closer view.”

  “You mean to shoot this down as well?” said Ugaki.

  “No sir, that is a most valuable craft. We call it the Seahawk, and it is used for a number of purposes. It can complete air ferry operations from ship to ship, and land or take off from any open deck space. It could even land on that big forward gun turret there. Furthermore, it carries special buoys that can be dropped into the sea to listen for enemy submarines, and when it hears one, it can launch torpedoes to seek out that sub and destroy it, just as you saw our rocket take down that target drone. It is also capable of carrying smaller missiles that can defend it from other aircraft, or strike targets on land, but at a much shorter range than the missile we just demonstrated. We use it to carry Naval Marines, conduct search and rescue, or other special operations as may be required and ordered by the Captain.”

  The helicopter approached, and to their amazement, it came to a complete standstill and hovered. Yamamoto had seen such a craft before, the rudimentary Kayaba Ka-1 autogyro being developed for the army as a potential artillery spotter. Yet it was nothing compared to this craft, which now hovered noisily off the side of the great battleship, its downwash flaying the sea beneath it. They could clearly see the pilot, who saluted smartly, and then the craft angled away, back towards the Takami. They watched it in silence until it hovered briefly above the ship, and then landed.

  Yamamoto gave Ugaki a look, then turned to the two men, the anger and annoyance long gone from him now. “Gentlemen,” he said. “Please accompany Rear Admiral Ugaki and I to my stateroom. It seems we have much more to discuss here than your uniforms.”

  “It would be our pleasure sir,” said Captain Harada, “and we thank you for your forbearance.”

  Part IX

  Resurrection

  “Fall down seven times, stand up eight…

  Wake from death and return to life.”

  ― Japanese Proverb

  Chapter 25

  “A moment ago you stated you could speak only with Admiral Yamamoto,” said Ugaki. “Yet I am his Chief of Staff, and he has asked me to attend this meeting. If that is not acceptable to you, then we will graciously grant your wish to visit your ancestors.” He looked at Fukada, his eyes cold.

  That is exactly what we are already doing, he thought, visiting our ancestors, but he said nothing, looking at Captain Harada.

  “Under the circumstances,” said Harada, knowing he had to diffuse the obvious tension between the two men, “it was I who ordered Lieutenant Commander Fukada that our information should be revealed only to the Admiral, and to speak as he did to you earlier. I can see now that was a regrettable error, and I ask your pardon, Admiral Ugaki.” He offered a suitable head bow, which Ugaki returned, his pride assuaged for the moment.

  “Good,” said Yamamoto. “Now that no one is going to slit their belly, I have decided to keep your heads on your shoulders for the time being as well. So let us get down to the matter at hand. That was a most interesting demonstration. I must tell you that rumors concerning these naval rockets have been buzzing about the fleet like bothersome flies. And now I see the reality with my own eyes. Alright. Explain. Where did you get these weapons? Were you sent here by our government?”

  In a way, Captain Harada was grateful the Admiral had asked him more than one question. That way he could answer the easiest one and overlook the others.

  “These weapons were delivered by the Japanese government, but Takami is unlike any other ship in your fleet. In fact, no one in the navy, not even here at the very highest level of command, knows of the existence of this ship, which is why we were most concerned about secrecy. As you have seen, these are very capable weapons, most deadly. They ca
n do everything we have already told you, and at the ranges Lieutenant Commander Fukada mentioned earlier.”

  There, everything he had just said was true. He had just not made it clear which Japanese government delivered the weapons, or said anything about his being a man from another time.

  “A secret project,” said Yamamoto, “and one I knew nothing about? I suppose it would not be the first time information has been withheld from me. Yet someone had to issue orders, secure resources, for a ship of this size to be built. Frankly, that it could even exist without my knowledge is most troubling. Is there a shipyard hidden away somewhere that has been kept secret all these years? Who was behind the development of these weapons, the Army? Is that why they were withheld from Navy circles?”

  Again, which question to answer? The Captain thought carefully. He was edging into waters here that he had once thought would not carry them where they wanted to go. He was making it seem as though they were men of this era, and his ship was a secret prototype—a lie that was like a beautiful woman’s body. It might hide for a time behind the satin folds of her kimono, but one day a determined man would lay her bare.

  Fukada had suggested that only the real truth would give them the power they needed to really have some pull in this world. He had also argued the very same thing that was worrying Harada about his initial and carefully worded responses here—that the truth would eventually come out, and deception would only sow seeds of ill will and resentment. Yet Harada felt that beginnings were very delicate matters, and that if he could wade in slowly, reveal things over time, it might be a better course.

  “The Army knows nothing of this either sir,” the Captain said at last. “No, this was not a development having anything to do with inter-service rivalry. Takami was commissioned into the Japanese Navy, but at a time and place unknown to you. The officers and crew aboard were all specially selected and trained.” Again, this was all true.