"It makes us look human. Everyone makes mistakes from time to time, and this was obviously a mistake — a bad one, but still a human error."
"The timing," Koyama hissed, "could not have been worse in light of the current events."
Katsumoto sipped his warm tea and waited for an opportunity to speak calmly with Koyama. "We have offered our deepest apologies to the Americans, and we must trust that responsible people will understand the circumstances."
"I don't think you clearly understand the situation," Koyama suddenly blurted, which prompted the aide to discreetly step out of the soundproof meeting room. "We've got an arms race going on — a major arms race — that is rapidly gaining momentum throughout Asia."
Nagumo Katsumoto didn't respond to the cutting remark. When he was a young man attending Tokyo University, he had taught himself the self-discipline not to be lured into fruitless arguments with upset or inebriated people.
The Prime Minister cast a glance out the window. "The instability is becoming more obvious by the day, and I'm deeply concerned about the security of our military forces.
"And all of this," Koyama boldly went on, "at a time when Japan is in a downward spiral into slower business growth and constant restructuring.
"We can eventually correct our business deficiencies," the Prime Minister said cryptically, "but our most important concern at the moment is how our Asian neighbors view our military image while the U. S. continues to shrink its forces in the region."
"I'm quite aware of the problems our country faces," Katsumoto said evenly, "and we must understand and deal with the fact that emotions and feelings of insecurity are always stirred when the balance of power swings from one side of the pendulum to the other."
With a disgusted look, Koyama pushed himself back in his thickly padded chair. "The cycle of mistrust and open animosity between the U. S. and Japan, along with the fears of our Asian neighbors, are forcing us to repeat the same things we had to do in the first half of the century."
Katsumoto sighed and leaned back to ease the discomfort in his lower back. "It isn't 'us' or 'we.' "
"You can't change the inevitable," Koyama snapped and lighted a cigarette. "Despite years of lying to each other, nothing has changed the fundamental feelings between the Japanese and the American people. If we had mutual trust, no one would worry about the size of our military forces."
The Foreign Minister let his head rest on the back of his chair and serenely closed his eyes. "The majority of Japanese know they're superior to anyone else on this planet — especially to the Americans — and most Americans believe they're superior to anyone who doesn't have their collective power and money. So the hostility goes on because we can't blend as basic human beings."
"Don't count Japan out," the Prime Minister said contemptuously as the airplane began its takeoff roll.
Commander Shigezo Takagi was startled awake when Oda Kanjiro gently touched his shoulder. The skipper groaned and rolled over, then switched on the dull red light and swung his legs over the side of the bunk.
"We are in position at nine thousand meters, sir," Kanjiro reported in a hushed voice. "Both torpedoes are active and sonar holds no close contacts."
"That is a good omen," Takagi said excitedly and quickly slipped his feet into the soft, padded sock-shoes the crew wore while on patrol. "Take us to periscope depth and lock in a solution on the carrier."
"Yes sir," Kanjiro responded quietly and turned toward the crowded control room.
A contact's course, range, and speed were calculated to determine the target's bearing rate — the "solution" for the torpedo shot.
Takagi sat still for a last moment of contemplation. His mind was clear and he felt comfortable with the pleasure he would derive from his inner calling. He looked forward to avenging his grandparents and the atrocious way the Americans had killed them.
Shigezo Takagi felt a visceral impulse toward the course of action he had set in motion, and the driving force was accompanied by a strong conviction of divine influence. Harushio was in harm's way and it was his responsibility to protect her and his crew.
The CO patiently waited until the depth readout next to his navigational data window indicated that Harushio was stabilized at periscope depth, then he calmly rose from his bed and walked to the control room.
All eyes turned to Takagi when he stepped through the hatch and approached the periscope.
"Sir," Kanjiro whispered, "we have a solution on a ship, but we don't think it's the carrier. The signature is different and sonar hasn't been able to locate the carrier."
"Keep trying."
Kanjiro obediently nodded and toggled the switch to raise the periscope before he glanced at the array of lights on the status board. "We are making two knots, outer torpedo doors are open, tubes one and two are flooded, and the fire-control system is up and ready."
"Excellent," Takagi replied as he grabbed the handgrips and quickly rotated the periscope 360 degrees, then reversed his crablike shuffle to take in the flotilla of American ships. "We're clear — no surface threats."
He was astonished to see Kitty Hawk burning while her escort ships were assisting with the firefighting efforts. Takagi was elated and felt a sudden sense of relief when he recognized where the strange explosions had originated.
"The carrier is dead in the water," he whispered to Kanjiro.
"It's on fire. That's why we can't get a signature — the screws aren't turning. There's only one ship moving, and it's a guided-missile cruiser."
The executive officer pursed his lips and smiled. "The sounds — the explosions we've been hearing — must have come from the carrier."
Takagi acknowledged his exec and stared at the blazing aircraft carrier. He was confident the Sea Ferrets would be enough to sink the beleaguered ship. The conventional 2,800-pound shaped charge explosive in each weapon was enough to blast a gaping hole in the hull of the carrier.
Harushio's CO felt a tingling sensation shoot through his chest. "This is a perfect opportunity. They'll most likely think a fire-related explosion sank the carrier."
Takagi tilted his head and looked at the glowing lights on the status board. The gyroscope, sonar transducer, and computer system in each torpedo was on line. The weapons were "hot" and ready for immediate use as soon as the final launch-code was punched into the complex fire-control system. The fire-control computer was constantly providing a solution to Chancellorsville, the guided-missile cruiser that was maneuvering around the burning carrier.
"The contact is turning." Takagi paused and waited to see what the Aegis cruiser would do next. "He's circling the carrier like a mother hen."
He timed the slow-moving cruiser as it completed a circle around Kitty Hawk, then glanced at the weapons' projected running time to the target. Takagi calculated the opportune firing time in order to have the pair of Sea Ferrets arrive at the cruiser when it was directly between the submarine and the huge carrier.
Hopefully, the CO thought while he nervously walked the periscope through another 360-degree sweep, the torpedoes will go under the keel of the destroyer and hit the carrier as they start turning back toward their programmed sound signature.
"Run the code for both tubes," Takagi ordered in a voice barely above a whisper.
"Run the code — both tubes," Kanjiro relayed to the fire-control team, "and stand by to execute."
Seconds passed before the twin amber lights illuminated on the status board.
"Both torpedoes are ready," Kanjiro tensely declared. Takagi studied the destroyer and counted the seconds it took to turn 90 degrees. "Solution update."
A fire-control technician tapped three buttons on his console and looked at the exec. "Solution input."