Hidaka rubbed his face, irritated beyond measure. There were so many things wrong with what he had just read, he wouldn’t know where to begin. Certainly, Chiang Kai-shek would like to consider himself some sort of “premier,” but in truth he was little better than a scabrous dog being hunted down by the Imperial Japanese Army. And this woman! Garcia? The American secretary of state was Cordell Hull. A vile creature known to all as an uncultivated savage who had attempted to humiliate the emperor with his outrageous schemes and demands. Even if that had somehow changed since they had sailed from Ominato, only a maniac would imagine a woman—a Mexican or an Indian one, at that, by the sound of her name—could ever attain such an important office.

Hidaka sipped the nearly forgotten tea and grimaced to discover that it had gone cold.

There were more Related Links at the bottom of this story—or perhaps fairy tale might have been a better name. He “linked” to a story about “Free Indonesian” warships that had joined this so-called Multinational Force. An Indonesian government-in-exile had insisted that two of its ships, the Sutanto and the Nuku, participate in the enforcement of any Exclusion Zone over the contested archipelago.

Something in that nagged at Hidaka. It was all as preposterous as the rest, but . . .

The Sutanto!

He leapt from the armchair, upsetting the cup of cold tea, which spilled onto the floor. Heedless of the accident, he rushed over to the unconscious sailors. One who had collapsed in the wardroom still sported a baseball cap on which was stitched a silhouette of a ship. And the caption 377 KRI SUTANTO.

He had been seeing that word all over the ship, and now he knew why. This was the Sutanto, presumably of the Free Indonesian Navy.

Without a doubt this had to be some sort of American trick, perhaps even a trap. But what could be the point? And why bait the trap so oddly? And where did the fantastic machines such as this glowing tablet come from anyway?

A thousand questions spilled from his one small success. He was nearly overcome by a wave of hopelessness, when a crewman called urgently.

“Commander! One of the men is waking. Look!”

“At last,” Hidaka muttered. He moved to stand by the man’s head. The barbarian was blinking rapidly. A storm of twitches and tics ran across his features, briefly seizing his whole body at one point. Without warning he vomited prodigiously, a yellow-green geyser, which erupted vertically from his mouth only to fall back and drench him. With distaste branded into every line of his face, Hidaka used the toe of his boot to turn the man’s head to one side, lest he choke to death.