Designated targets

A block away from the Chambers Street station, hundreds of stretchers covered the grounds of City Hall Park, reminding Julia of the MASH unit she'd visited back on the Brisbane Line. That had been a hell of a lot more organized than this. She couldn't see any sort of system here. There seemed to be four or five competing triage centers. Police, firefighters, and civilian medical teams swarmed everywhere, sometimes rubbing up hard against each other, leading to arguments and even a couple of fights, which she caught on video.

A soldier wandered through, an army lieutenant, a 'temp. His uniform was blackened, and a big, egg-shaped bump had come up on his forehead. But otherwise he seemed fine. Julia grabbed him, identified herself, and got down to work.

"I was going to meet my brother," he said. "He was going to be on the subway-the A train. I was waiting over by the newsstand. I don't know. I don't know what happened. A bomb. I guess. They must have dropped a bomb. I gotta find my brother-"

He wandered off before she could get his name.

She had to get closer to the station, to find somebody who had at least half a clue. So she began to jog over to Chambers Street, stopping to grab a clip of a mother and young daughter-she supposed-dressed for the opera, sitting and hugging each other, shaking violently and not speaking at all. The daughter was moaning.

The pad chimed, and she broke off filming to read an updater from the Times. There were three other bomb sites in Manhattan: at Pe

She heard the musical theme from The Simpsons and experienced a definite shunt in her mind, as it tried to get traction on a very slippery slope. Then she remembered that was Rosa

"Hey, babe. God, am I glad to see you," Julia said with enormous relief. "Dan said you guys were toast."

Rosa

"I'm home," said Julia. "Well, not at home. The city got parcel-bombed. I'm on it right now. Looks like someone's been doing their homework. They've gone for soft targets, high body counts. Easier than hitting guarded facilities. How long has the laser link been up?"

Rosa

"Hickham? Isn't that where the Raptors are based?"

"Were based. They're fucked."

Julia felt a surge of anxiety in her friend's behalf. "Jesus, Rosa

"I know," said Natoli. "This place is on the edge of a panic spiral. But there's no getting out. It's pure chaos, Jules."

"Is Curtis all right?"

"He's fine. He was with me. And our fat shadow, too."

Julia was going to ask, but Rosa

"I'll tell you about that later. Look, I've got to go, Jules. I'll file every three hours, as long as the link is up and I have access. Raw footage. You can produce me for a change."

Rosa

"File every hour," said Julia. "Then I'll know you're okay."

"I'll be fine. I'll see you soon," Rosa

Somehow, Julia doubted it.

26

The sight of so many aircraft forming up and heading out, to further reduce the enemy's defenses, should have brought joy to the grand admiral. After all, it was rare in war to be given a second chance.

But Yamamoto had not yet fully recovered from the shock of seeing Hidaka on the little movie screen, disheveled and covered in blood, telling him that one mutinous Frenchman had nearly wrecked the entire plan. Indeed, he may well have done so. They hadn't yet determined how much damage this barbarian Danton had wreaked, and they wouldn't know for certain until their own planes flew over the islands and reported back.

Unlike his initial reaction to the Emergence, Yamamoto wasn't incandescent with rage, not this time. For the admiral, rage came from the sudden, unexpected destruction of certainty. And in his heart, he hadn't been at all surprised by this development.

After Midway, nothing seemed to surprise him anymore. If somebody had walked in and told him that Charles Lindbergh had been elected president of the United States, or that a race of super Nazis had suddenly emerged in southern Africa, he doubted he would raise an eyebrow.

So his primary reaction to Hidaka's untimely news was a feeling of sickening free fall, which he fought to keep to himself. He could only wonder if the world would ever return to the certainties of just a few months previous.

The mood on the bridge of the great battleship Yamato mirrored his own. Perhaps if Hidaka had been able to report a complete success, it would have been different. The officers and crew might yet have been seized with the fevers of victory, celebrating as they had during the first few months of the war. But now, they all seemed to wonder if their doom was approaching, and whether or not a squadron of F-22s might still come shrieking toward them at two or three times the speed of sound.

Pounding through the Pacific toward their objective, the Combined Fleet looked unstoppable. Yet in the face of the weapons the Americans now possessed, his cruisers and carriers were little better than origami trifles.

The officer of the watch a

It was good, he thought. His Majesty would be well served by these new samurai.

Following their example, he put aside his own concerns. The warrior who drew his blade without confidence was doomed. Hidaka said the missile strike had done an enormous amount of damage, and his own air assault would surely add to the Americans' woes.

"Captain," he said, sitting a little straighter in his command chair, "signal the fleet to redouble its vigilance. There will be enemy submarines in front of us. And a counterattack from Midway remains possible."

The bridge crew took their lead from Yamamoto's renewed vigor. Backs straightened. Orders were barked out just a bit more crisply. Everywhere he looked, he saw evidence of Japan's finest young men, willing to die in the service of the empire.

It wasn't right for him to let them down with maudlin displays of anxiety.