He took a seat in the back and plugged his headset into the plane’s communications system. “This is Takahashi.”

“What’s your assessment, General?”

Sanetomi tried to make his voice sound commanding but he couldn’t obscure his apprehension. There was nothing in his life that could have prepared him for what he now found himself faced with. He had been a simple schoolteacher before he’d gone to law school and discovered his gift for public speaking and making powerful friends. This was a situation that demanded leadership, and in the end Sanetomi was just a man who looked good on television.

“The Chinese sank the Izumo in waters the entire international community agrees are ours,” Takahashi said.

The prime minister tried to respond, but Takahashi talked over him. “According to the Americans it’s also likely that they attempted to sabotage the Fukushima nuclear plant. And according to our own intelligence people, they almost certainly tried to assassinate me.”

“Chinese involvement in the problems at Fukushima is little more than conjecture, General.”

And of course that’s all it ever would be.

“My apologies, Mr. Prime Minister. Of course you’re right.”

“We must step back,” Sanetomi said. “This can’t go any further.”

“And how would you have us do that, sir? Should I tell our captains to scuttle our ships? Would that satisfy the Chinese? Or perhaps we could just reward them for their unprovoked attacks by giving them—”

“I won’t be spoken to in that tone, General! Do you want to fight a war? Do you think it would be glorious? Even with the Americans’ help and the paltry toys you’ve developed, the destruction would be beyond anything we experienced during World War Two. Is that your goal? To die with your family’s sword in your hand while our country burns? Is that your idea of honor?”

Takahashi didn’t immediately respond, instead looking out the window at the rescue efforts that were quickly becoming futile. No survivors had been found for more than six hours.

“Sometimes destruction is needed before creation is possible.”

Sanetomi’s stunned silence wasn’t entirely unexpected. “You’ve been out there long enough, General. Return. Now.”

“As you wish,” Takahashi said, cutting off the link.

He leaned back in his chair and listened to the drone of the aircraft’s engines. They were on the inevitable path to the world’s first—and perhaps last—postmodern war. Technology would eventually progress to the point where battles between advanced nations would be unthinkable. At that point, the world order would likely be fixed for generations. It was his duty to make sure Japan led that world order.

Takahashi felt the plane level out and he assumed that they were on their way back to Japan at Prime Minister Sanetomi’s hysterical bidding.