Ōshima Ryōta (1718-1787)

"This is the way of the world: three days pass, you gaze up, the blossom has fallen."

North Korea has once more started up its nuclear program. A nuclear-tipped missile launches south of Pyongyang, flies over Tokyo and explodes in a mushroom-cloud firestorm offshore. Police Inspector Haruto Suzuki investigates the death of a "westerner." Clues lead him to Mikiyasu Industries - a conglomerate producing Japan's most advanced industrial robots. Terrorist rockets from Lebanon continue to rain down on Israel. The rigid, by-the-rules-only Inspector Suzuki is thrown from his murder investigation into an arms deal that will change the face of the earth, and for the first time in his life, into love and happiness. Will the love one man has for a woman save our world or destroy it?

Ōshima Ryōta (1718-1787)

"The potted plant seller went away, But left behind fluttering - this butterfly."

Pacific Ocean 35˚N, 160˚E Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force (Navy) Destroyer Ashigara June 10 2AM Tokyo Time (June 9 17:00 Zulu)

Chapter 1

"Missile launched south of Pyongyang!"

"Stand ready!" Captain Watanabe scanned the water with his binoculars. Little light came from the cloudy skies. He could no longer make out the North Korean frigate at the horizon.

The control bridge fell silent. Four subordinate officers, plastered in their seats, staring at phosphor-green flatscreens... waiting.

Watanabe gripped his binoculars tighter. What was happening to this world? Korea - North Korea! - these weapons.

"Sir, Yokosuka announces the missile is over-flying Japan... Over Tokyo... now. Altitude eighty thousand meters and climbing. Vector is on course."

The only sounds on the bridge were the soft hum of the electronics and the breathing of the men. The labored silence stretched on, with the officers staring at their screens, and Captain Watanabe gripping his binoculars and wiping his brow.

"On radar now," Master Petty Officer Hirashi shouted. "Computer is waiting for data to calculate vector."

The background of Hirashi's screen started flashing. "Sir, vector estimate is twelve thousand meters short!"

Watanabe dropped his binoculars. The left lens shattered on the metal floor and broke the silence of the room for good.

Hirashi's radar screen changed to a flashing orange background. "Sir, increase to fourteen thousand meters short of expected impact."

"Position and time!"

"Impact at six thousand meters southeast of our position in ninety-four seconds, Sir!"

"Damn them!" Watanabe yelled at the floor. The North Koreans knew that the Ashigara was there observing. Watanabe started thinking. After the nuclear warhead exploded a swell would come at them from the southeast. To avoid capsizing he ought to steer the ship into the wave. But that was to make way toward the explosion and the radiation. Steering one hundred eighty degrees away from the wave would take the ship farther from the blast and fallout, and prevent the wave from hitting it broadside, but a stern is not a bow. If the wave were large enough, when it hit the rear of the ship, the stern would rise, push the bow underwater and capsize his boat. Damn those Koreans. Damn those nuclear weapons. He'd take his chances with the sea and get as far as possible from the nuke. The decision had only taken seconds. "Helmsman, make your direction northwest at full propeller."

"Yes, Sir."

The roar of four Ishikawajima turbines coming up to full speed with one-hundred-thousand horsepower filled the ship.

"Transfer ballast from bow tanks into stern tanks and initiate full anti-broaching. Blast shields down. Air intake pumps off. All hatches sealed. Electromagnetic pulse protection on. Infirmary to stand ready."

"Yes, Sir!" The officers typed madly into their keyboards. In a few seconds sirens and computer-generated voices sounded throughout the ship, followed by the clanging of blast shields and hatches.

"Northwest at full propeller now, Sir."

"Stern buoyancy?"

"Decreasing, Sir." Hirashi looked at the monitors again. "But not enough time to transfer full ballast... Impact in forty seconds, Sir."

"Position?"

"Estimate impact southeast fifty-eight hundred meters from current coordinates, Sir."

Watanabe opened his wallet and looked at the photos of his wife and twin girls. There was nothing else he could do.

"Ten..." Hirashi said. "Five...four...three...two...one...Impa-" A bright light pushed through the cracks at the edges of the blast shields.

"Brace for impact!" Watanabe shouted.

A loud blast shattered the quiet. Then the massive wave slammed into the ship and over its decks. The Ashigara's bow went down, and the ship listed to port.

Watanabe grabbed onto a pole to keep from toppling over. Damn it, stop, stop! The ship kept listing.

Watanabe's heart was beating faster. With each beat, the port side of the ship approached the waterline. Ballast and loose cargo slid portside, driving the ship further to its side. Time slowed and the ship hung there - its tilted deck only meters from the sea, and creeping closer. Watanabe pulled against the pole, somehow imagining he could right the ship, his hands so tight they were white. Stop. Please don't end this way. He wedged his feet against the now vertical floor. With every muscle in his body, he pulled against that pole, straining and groaning. The ship edged closer and closer to the waterline. Chairs and flatscreens broke loose of their attachments and dropped onto the port wall.

And then, as if his will and his pulling had had an effect, the ship slowly started to right itself.

"Damage report," Watanabe shouted.

Hirashi climbed back in his seat. "Propulsion good. Electrical good. Ship's seals good. Negative radiation intake."

"Relay telemetry data to Yokosuka." "Already done, Sir."

"What does ship's computer say about the blast data?"

"Yield estimated at nine point two kilotons, Sir."

Watanabe wiped the sweat from his eyes. His left hand was still shaking. They'd been lucky. He looked at the laminated map of Japan affixed to the starboard wall and frowned. Maybe next time they would not be so fortunate.