“Do not imagine,” Moertopo said, “that just because my government found it convenient to enter into an alliance with the United States, we did so happily. The policies of the Americans reduced my country to ashes and bone, picked over by madmen and ignorant savages. Clearly any patriot would leap at any opportunity to avoid that outcome.”

Moertopo was surprised at how easily this rubbish spilled from his lips. Still, he had to convince Kakuta and Hidaka that they had found a powerful and trustworthy ally. One who wouldn’t need to be kept under close and constant guard.

Curiously, he had the impression that Hidaka was the one to convince. The older man seemed so overwhelmed by events that he was ready to dance with any devil. Behind his smile, however, Lieutenant Commander Hidaka regarded Moertopo with all the benevolence of a hungry shark.

“If I understand you then, Lieutenant, you would propose an alliance?” Hidaka inquired.

Ali arranged his features as credibly as possible. I would offer you my firstborn on a plate, he thought, if that’s what it took to get your boot off my throat. Whether I deliver is another matter.

When he spoke, however, it was to say, “I can offer nothing until I have consulted with Captain Djuanda. But I cannot imagine he would forgo such a unique opportunity to set history right.” He grinned wolfishly. Or what he hoped was wolfishly.

The admiral seemed satisfied. Hidaka, too, was appeased, but seemed to retain a certain reserve.

Working the archipelago under an old pirate like Djuanda, Moertopo had developed a smuggler’s sense for risk and opportunity. Both lay in front of him, but the risk seemed much greater. Best to give an impression of avarice, colored by a longing for vengeance and not a little stupidity. Nobody feared an idiot, after all.

The midshipman reappeared with a box of one-use Promatil syringes. Moertopo jabbed himself, then ordered the middie to distribute them among the members of his crew.

Kakuta spoke again, holding the flexipad as if it were a Ming vase.

“Your library, Lieutenant? You implied you have information in here”—the idea of a library in a box evidently bewildered him—“that would help us avert a disaster. Time is of the essence. We need to know what to do.”

“I cannot tell you what to do,” Moertopo replied through Hidaka. “That is not my place. I can only tell you what we know of the battle, through our archival files. Any decisions are yours to make.”