Even in the strange green glow of the light stick the trooper seemed on the verge of disappearing into the visual clutter. It was almost as though he was drinking up the light, without throwing any of it back. Evans thought he was dressed in black, but he couldn’t tell for sure. When Nix moved, he flowed like a ghost from one flickering shadow to the next. His eyes seemed huge and almost insectlike until Evans realized he, too, was wearing goggles. Unlike the Negro woman he hadn’t removed his, and he seemed to be constantly scanning their surroundings. His weapon, some weird Buck Rogers–looking thing, seemed to float by his side, and Peter Evans had the unnerving sensation that it could swing up and target the small patch of skin between his eyes before he could even blink in surprise. He felt sure it was the same man he’d seen earlier, on the deck of the other ship.

“That’s a fucking German storm trooper!” Mohr hissed in his ear. “Look at the helmet, Commander. And dressed in black like that. He’s gotta be a Kraut.”

“Seaman Nix hails from Fort Worth, Texas,” said the black woman. “I’m not sure of his politics.”

“Unreconstructed southern Democrat, ma’am,” Nix said in a broad, recognizably Texan drawl.

“Well, we won’t hold that against him. But I can assure you he is not an SS officer.”

“Well, what the hell is he then?” snapped Evans, suddenly finding himself thoroughly exasperated by the conversational tone she maintained in the face of this relentless insanity.

Despite his outburst, the “captain”—what had she called herself?—replied calmly, “Nix is one of my boarding/counterboarding specialists, Commander Evans. I’ll have him fall back if you’d prefer. Regardless, you and I need to talk. And fast. I don’t know how long the structural integrity of our ships can hold out. But at the very least I’d suggest we stop trying to shoot each other and dial back our speed. We’re tearing each other apart.”

“What did you say your name was?” asked Evans.

“Anderson. Captain Daytona Anderson of the USS Leyte Gulf.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that, am I? You must think I came down in that last shower, lady.”

“Look, Commander. I don’t expect you to believe anything I say. I don’t know how much of what I’ve seen the last few minutes I can believe, but I’m playing the cards I’ve been dealt. You said your ship is the Astoria? Would you by any chance be sailing on Midway, to confront a Japanese invasion fleet?”

Evans almost laughed.

“You gotta be kidding me. Do you really think I’m going to tell you anything?”