The same Tower of Babel effect was repeated on the flag bridge when they arrived. Black was as bemused by the way different sexes and races were all mixed in among the bridge crew, as he was by the staggering display of technology. The cockpit of the helicopter had looked like something on a space rocket. This room, with its banks of glowing movie screens and flashing lights, was even more bewildering. How on earth did anyone know how to operate this stuff? And what sort of a world was it where women barked orders at men and colored folk were placed in charge of whites? Dan Black preferred not to think of himself as a prejudiced man, but his mind locked up. This was simply beyond his comprehension.

He missed Kolhammer’s introduction of some officer named Judge.

“Got the butcher’s bill sir,” the man said. “Damage and casualties across both forces.”

He’s from Texas, thought Black.

“Thanks, Mike,” said Kolhammer.

A Seahawk flew past the blast window. They shuttled constantly between those ships with working flight decks and an ever-widening search and rescue zone. Kolhammer waited as Judge consulted his flexipad, unvarnished distaste creasing the exec’s features in the light of the screen. He noted that while Curtis had his face glued to the armor glass, watching the flight operations, Lieutenant Commander Black had settled into a quiet corner to watch the Clinton’s executive officer.

“Every one of our ships has taken significant damage,” said Judge. “The Close-In Systems harvested a shitload of incoming, but another two shitloads arrived right behind the first. So far we have six hundred and thirty-seven confirmed dead on the Clinton. One thousand and fifty-three KIA on the Fearless. Another eight hundred and ninety-two throughout the task force. We have more than fifteen hundred injured. Half of them from the Clinton again. We’ve definitely lost contact with our two boomers, and with the Vanguard, the Dessaix, the Garrett, and the Indonesians. We’re not leaping to conclusions, but it could be they just didn’t come through.”

“That’s not the case with the Nagoya, though,” said Kolhammer.

“No, sir, it’s not. We’re pretty sure now the Nagoya was the source of the event and was destroyed by it. Makes sense, given what they were messing with. We’ve got some video on screen three.”

The flatscreen came to life, quartering into four windows displaying mast-mounted cam coverage of the Nagoya. The video ran at normal speed for a few seconds then seemed to stop. Both Black and Curtis moved around to watch the video. The ensign whistled softly, but the older man scowled at the screen as if he didn’t trust it.

“We had to dial back the replay speed,” said Judge. “Even then it’s hard to say what happened, it was so quick.”