WesWorld

Well, what the hell. It's pre-written, Val's sleeping, and if I'm using our phoneline to surf Wesworld, nobody can call me to engage in the same conversation I've had thirty times already...

Further parts to follow in this thread, as opportunity allows.

Al Luhayyah, Asir: 3 October 1928

The sun blazed mercilessly down upon Capitan de Corbeta Sebastian Moreno, executive officer of the Filipino cruiser Panay, as he paced the quarterdeck of his ship. It was fortunate that he was not on duty, for he would not have able to concentrate on his job anyway.

He’d received the message. He hadn’t believed it would ever come, but it had: a message alerting him to the demise of a fictitious uncle.

He’d received it because he’d made a vow, months ago, and he’d done that because of his nephew. The government had killed the boy, sacrificed him and his shipmates in a pointless attack on a nation that had no quarrel with the Philippines. That’s how the government operated: attacked other nations at random, using the never-ending series of crises to limit civil liberties and line their pockets with the gold of the working class. It made friends with the oppressive monarchies of Asia and used those allies to slaughter its internal opponents.

Moreno had taken an oath to defend the Philippines from its enemies, and today, finally, he had the opportunity to demonstrate what that oath meant to him. Today, he was joining the revolution, and he was taking Panay with him.

He knew a few names he could trust. Even before he’d spoken to each of the officers and petty officers, he’d visited the wireless office to examine a list of who’d received personal messages at the same time as he. Happily, the operator on duty happened to be on that list. He’d barely smirked when he handed the clipboard to Moreno, saying only, “There have been quite a few uncles dying. Must be something in the air.”

Looking at the bridge, he decided that the time to move was now, before a non-sympathetic wireless operator noticed the collection of undelivered messages and learned something he wasn’t yet supposed to now.

“Good afternoon, Senor Moreno”, Panay’s CO, Capitan de Fragata Hernando Villigrana, said as Moreno entered the bridge. He frowned as Moreno strode toward him without replying - then jerked back a step as Moreno drew his service revolver in a quick motion.

“Capitan Villigrana, the revolution has begun. It is my duty to relieve you of your command as I place this vessel in the service of General Greco and the revolutionary council”, Moreno replied.

“I beg your pardon?”, Villigrana exclaimed. “What in the hell are you talking about? Lower that pistol, you fool!”

“Commander, you are relieved”, Moreno. Peripherally, he could see that all activity on the bridge had stopped. All eyes were on them. He recognized rather belatedly that he only had one supporter here on the bridge at that very moment. That wasn’t a lot of support.

“Senor Moreno, this foolishness has just cost your career. It doesn’t need to cost you your life. Hand your weapon over to Senor Estevez and I will do what I can for you at the court martial.”

Teniente Estevez, the navigator, took a hesitant step forward. Moreno decided in that moment that he had to act, and so he did.

*****

“What was that?”, inquired Captain-Lieutenant Rakesh Pachauri, from the bridge of the monitor Chandragupta.

Before anybody around him could respond, he heard more of the distant popping sounds from the direction of Panay, anchored five hundred yards away.

“Were those gunshots?”, somebody asked from behind him.

“I’d say so”, Pachauri replied. “Signal Panay, ask if they are having difficulties of some kind.”

“Aye, sir.”

As the signalman went to work, Pachauri located his binoculars and stepped out of the bridge, onto the signal lamp platform. He raised the binoculars to his eyes as the blinker light began clattering, and examined the Filipino cruiser, starting from the bow. A couple of men there were standing, mops in hand, facing aft. The forward gun turret showed no sign of activity.

The bridge, from what he could see, looked busy - there were people passing back and forth across the portholes, at least.

“Sir - there’s a man down by the wireless shack”, the lookout beside him exclaimed. Sure enough, there was. Pachauri couldn’t see any blood, but the man didn’t appear to be moving.

“We may have swimmers in the water”, Pachauri called out. There’d been a couple of cases in the past year in which a local, variably armed, had swum out to a ship, found a way aboard, and attacked the crew. This could well be another instance. “Sound General Quarters and standby to repel boarders. Signal engineering to raise steam. We don’t want to be caught in place if something else is afoot.”

*****

Aboard Panay, Moreno surveyed the bridge. The captain was dead, the navigator soon to follow. Another man was down by the hatchway. A petty officer was leaning against the chart table, holding his left arm with his right hand as it dripped blood onto a map of the Red Sea.

“I am assuming command”, Moreno said flatly.

“Aye, Sir”, one of the signalmen replied. The rest of the men around him looked a bit stunned.

“There’s nothing for us here. We will sail for home immediately, to help the cause.” Suddenly there were so many things to do. “Have the Chaplain report to give Senor Estevez last rites. Ensure the wireless shack is secured. Have engineering raise steam on all boilers.”

The men were slow to move, but as they started to do so, they seemed to snap out of a reverie, with no hint of dissension. Could it really be this easy?

“Ah...Captain...Chandragupta is signalling us.”

“Ignore it”, he snapped.

“Aye, Sir”, the signalman responded.

“There’s a lot of activity on Chandragupta, Sir”, another man called out. “I think they’re going to quarters.”

Moreno’s blood went cold. The Indians had caught on already and were going to interfere. That would be intolerable.

“Go to General Quarters now. I want no signals going out - if we reveal out intentions too soon, they’ll have an advantage.”

*****

Pachauri took the report in. Panay was preparing for battle, yet would not reply to his own repeated signalling. He was puzzled. Between the lamps, flags, and the wireless, there were too many tools at Panay’s disposal to entirely explain the silence.

“Is it possible they’re having more trouble than we suspect?”, he asked nobody in particular.

“There’ve been no more shots, Sir. It looks like they’re going to quarters, though.”

Minutes passed by. “Mister Chouhan, take a boat over there personally and find out what the problem is, then report back to me”, he said. “Take some of the naval infantrymen in case there’s still a swimmer problem.”

“Aye, sir”, the executive officer replied.

From the voice pipes, the chief engineer’s bass echoed, “Captain, we have steam.”

*****

Moreno watched the boat crossing toward him. There were armed men aboard, and by the looks of it, at least one officer. Yes...it did look as if they were coming for him.

“Do we have steam?”

“You do, Captain.”

He pondered how exactly to deal with this, and decided it was better to avoid contact altogether. “Raise anchor.”

It took a very long minute for the call to come back: “Anchor is off the bottom, Sir.”

“Good - Senor Zapata, all ahead full.”

“All ahead full, aye”, the helmsman replied. The ship was slow to accelerate, but it did start to move forward.

He glanced over at the pinnace from the Indian warship...and saw it was angling to intercept him, its small, straining boiler belching black smoke. He grimaced; the Indians were going to make it alongside.

*****

Pachauri watched the cruiser as it slowly moved away. He was thoroughly puzzled now, but saw that Chouhan was doing a good job of bringing his pinnace around to catch the cruiser. He might get a report yet.

An alarmed voice called out, “Captain - there’s a-”, and the distant sound of rifle and revolver fire began to reach him. He grabbed for the binoculars, searched for the pinnace, and caught it just in time to see Chouhan go over its side, clutching at his chest.

His jaw dropped. He was sufficiently surprised that it took several seconds to shake it off. “Kali claim them all...signal Panay to heave to and prepare for boarding immediately! Guns, I want a warning shot across their bow right now!”

“Sir?”

“You heard me. Whatever is happening stops now. Fire the warning shot, Guns.”

The big twenty-five centimetre turret forward swung ponderously to port; the centre barrel elevated slightly. It fired with a chest-thumping BOOM, and scant seconds later, a geyser of water erupted from well past Panay’s bow.

Panay showed no sign of slowing down, and as he watched, the cruiser’s amidships and aft turrets began turning to face him. Smoke blossomed around them, he heard their roar, and felt his ship shake under him.

The gunnery officer shouted, “Should I return fire?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Pachauri yelled back, “A second warning shot, then prepare to engage! Wireless room - signal to Squadron command that Panay has fired upon us and departing.”

Turret Anton thundered again, and the Filipino guns replied with another four barrel broadside. An explosion forward of the bridge rocked Pachauri off his feet. “Damn them! Guns, engage Panay!”

Panay fired again, but Anton did not answer.

“That hit forward struck the barbette”, Guns reported. “The turret is jammed.”

“Take the shot anyway”, Pachauri growled. The three guns fired as one. Two splashes leapt up past the cruiser’s stern, while the cruiser’s stern was enveloped by a blast that sent plating soaring in all directions. As the last piece of debris crashed back into the Red Sea, greasy black smoke began streaming from the cruiser’s funnel. Panay fired again, and a cacophony of noise assailed Pachauri. Chandragupta wasn’t build to fight ships at close range and her armor wasn’t keeping the cruiser’s six inch shells out.

“Should I return fire?”, the gunnery officer asked.

“Is Anton training?”

“Still jammed, Sir”,

“Then don’t bother. Better that they don’t know about it”, Pachauri replied. Seething, he could only watch as the cruiser curled back around behind its smoke screen. “I need a damage report, people!”

It would be another hour before Pachauri received the first report of a revolution in the Philippines. The volume of obscenities he unleashed would be talked about by Chandragupta’s crew for years to come.

Very interesting story indeed!

I wonder how close to the truth the revolutionary first officers thoughts on the situation are?

I also wonder if Captain Harlock will decide he is needed in this civil war....he and his ship.

...but is Harlock really alive and which side would he choose if he was?

Very good stuff - as always. :o)

I wonder why the Indian warship didn´t use its tertiary and light battery to reply. At such a short range a 105mm shell can do a lot of damage to a cruiser - and at 500 yards it shouldn´t be too dificult to aim for the attackers bridge, radio room or main guns.

Hopefully more will come...

Quite a bit of a change from normal stories.

At 500yds range even your light semi-automatic 35mm guns sohuld be able to sweep the ship with gunfire. Then again Panay does(did?) have torpedoes but didn't use them.

We are missing the fact that these two ships belonged to two allied nations, hence the shoddy OK corral shootout.

In answer to the questions, there's an unstated assumption that Panay is off Chandragupta's bow as things start. As the monitor is not underway (despite having steam), she is not able to bring the secondary battery to bear. As for the 10.5 and 3.5 cm guns, we'll see.

The torpedo question will be explained momentarily...

To answer Ithekro's question, the first officer's assumptions may be entirely correct, or entirely wrong. It's just what he thinks. Ask Swampy if he's right.

Hyderabad: 4 October 1928

Admiral of the Navy Kashiram Paswan had expected to meet with the Raj in one of the offices near to the latter’s bedroom suite, given that it was after midnight. He’d been somewhat surprised to find himself led to the small day-bedroom set up next to the Emperor’s usual office in the south wing of the Imperial Palace instead.

Four Strongmen were in the process of transferring the Raj from a litter to a dark green settee. Paswan managed not to frown, but was dismayed to see that the Raj was going through yet another bout of the malaria that had been plaguing him for years.

“My apologies for not greeting you on my feet”, the Raj said softly. “It has been one of those days.”

“I’m sorry to hear this, your Highness”, Paswan replied. “I hope your recovery will be speedy.”

“As do I”, the Raj agreed. “Minister Kadharni is here as requested, and I’ve asked Brashkar to join us as well, in the event that he assumes regency before this is resolved.”

“Of course, Your Highness”, Paswan said. To the young prince he said, “Good morning, Your Highness. Minister.” The two men returned the greeting as the Strongmen completed their task. They watched in silence as two of the bodyguards took the litter and left the room; the other pair took up station on either side of the now-closed teak doors, arms folded in front of their bare chests. From past experience, Paswan knew they would remain that way, inert, for the duration of the discussion.

“Tell us what’s happened”, the Raj instructed. “And dispense with the formalities, Admiral, enough people refer to me as ‘Your Highness’ already.”

Paswan summarized the battle off Al Luhayyah. “At last report, our casualties were thirty-eight dead, fifty-three injured, and eight missing. Apart from Chandragupta’s executive officer, who fell off the ship’s boat alongside Panay, all of the missing men were aboard the ship at the time. There is no expectation that any will be found alive”, he concluded.

The report was met with several seconds of silence. The Raj eventually asked, “And the ship?”

“Damaged, rather badly, but in no danger now that the fires are out. At such short range, all of the shell hits were above the waterline, so there was no flooding.”

The Raj nodded his understanding. He’d sat through enough post-battle briefings to understand the basics of maritime combat. He picked up a tea cup from the small table beside the settee and examined it briefly before asking, “What do we know of Panay?”

“She was hit once, probably to little effect. She was last seen steaming south.”

“I meant, what of her crew? What happened?”, the Raj corrected him.

“The survivor aboard Chandragupta’s pinnace - trained in Tagalog, fortunately - reported hearing a revolutionary slogan being shouted just before Panay’s marines opened fire. Coupled with what was heard and seen from Chandragupta, it seems that a portion of the crew mutinied. Chandragupta, however, interpreted it as another swimmer attack and went to battle stations, which Panay’s mutineers must have regarded as a threat.”

When the Raj did not answer right away, the Foreign Minister, Jal Kadharni, inquired, “Was Chandragupta aware of the situation in the Philippines?”

“Apparently they were not informed until an hour or so afterward”, Paswan replied.

“That seems rather late”, Kadharni observed.

“It is, and I will be speaking with the officer in charge of fleet communications by telephone once this meeting is concluded. Should it be found that there was a failure to warn Chandragupta, I’m prepared to resign.”

“You won’t be resigning, Admiral”, the Raj said, waving his hand dismissively. “If errors were made, I have no doubt you will be most diligent in correcting them. Besides, I would be a fool to accept your resignation when we have such a serious situation on our hands. Now, how do we proceed? I assume you’ve not had time to hunt her down and sink her?”

Paswan frowned. “Given the political dynamic at play, I wanted your direction before issuing orders.”

“Handled recklessly, our reaction could be disastrous from a diplomatic perspective”, Kadharni noted. “I don’t think we want to provide the rebel faction with a group of dead heroes just yet.”

“No”, the Raj agreed, “We certainly do not. Admiral, ideally I’d like some time - a few days - to ruminate and see how the situation in the Philippines is evolving. Do you anticipate bringing Panay to action shortly?”

“Unless she attacks As Salif, we’ll have to go find her”, Paswan said. “I don’t expect an attack. Panay was more concerned with getting away than with sinking Chandragupta. She’s probably running for home at her best speed. I’ve ordered the two destroyers in the Red Sea to maintain a defensive posture, guarding our auxiliaries at As Salif, nonetheless.”

The Red Sea, 4 October 1928

Actually, Moreno would have preferred to sink Chandragupta. Fortunately for the monitor, not all of Panay’s weapons had been at his disposal during the brief engagement. As much as he’d wanted them back under his thumb, several hours had passed before he’d felt sufficiently confident to leave the bridge and go deal with the thorns in his side.

Teniente Morales, the torpedo officer, had not acknowledged the order to launch torpedoes at Chandragupta. “It was a dishonorable order, Sir, and I could not obey it”, Morales subsequently explained. “They were our allies; attacking them without warning would have been reprehensible.”

Moreno thought on that. Morales probably didn’t much care for his shooting of the Captain either. Would Morales obey him? What angle should he approach this from?

“Pedro”, he began tentatively, “I agree with most of what you said. It was a dishonorable thing to do.” He decided not to play the ‘but you should have obeyed me anyway’ card, assuming that this would backfire on him, given the captain’s fate. Instead, he followed up with, “But, there is honor in taking on dishonor for the greater good.”

Morales chewed on that for a bit before asking, “Could you explain, Sir?”

Moreno answered, “Certainly, Pedro. A man can dishonor himself by his actions, so he may not choose to undertake those actions. Sometimes, however, this comes at the price of a greater dishonor. Yesterday, I had to take the dishonorable step of firing upon a former ally to prevent the greater dishonor of losing Panay to those former allies. Yes, now my own honor is forfeited, but Panay remains free and in the service of the Democratic Oriental Republic of the Philippines, as she should be.

“Similarly”, he continued, “Ordering you to torpedo Chandragupta was an extension of that dishonor on my part. There would have been no dishonor in your obedience to a lawful order from a superior officer.”

“But am I not obligated to consider whether my orders are appropriate?”, Morales inquired.

“No, Pedro. If this ship is to function, her men must obey their orders without question, trusting in the judgement of their superiors. Otherwise we wind up with anarchy and the dishonorable situation of being unable to pursue a course of action when one is required.”

“But this is what I was taught at the academy”, Morales replied, bewildered.

“That’s how tyrants and criminals cling to power, Pedro, by paralyzing good men with self-doubt and indecision.

“I see, Sir”, Morales said hesitantly. Moreno could envision gears turning in the younger officer’s brain as he thought about what he’d just heard. “Are you saying that there is honor in obeying a dishonorable order to prevent a greater dishonor?”

“Yes”, Moreno said without delay.

“Very well, Sir. I apologize for my disobedience. It will not happen again”, Morales told him.

“I know”, Moreno replied. That problem solved, he went forward to deal with Teniente Vasquez. The gun captain of Turret Alpha had not only refused to fire on Chandragupta, he’d also apparently barricaded himself into the gunhouse with a few of his men.

“You’re a traitorous son of a half-breed whore!”, was his muffled response to Moreno’s entreaty.

Sensing that reasoned arguments about honor would be wasted, he answered, “Miguel, I’m not asking for your support. But you can’t stay in there indefinitely, you’ll be dead of dehydration within a day. Just open the hatch, return to your quarters, and stay there for the duration of the trip home. That’s all I ask.”

Vasquez’ answer left no doubt as to his thoughts on that proposal. The string of curses didn’t offer Moreno much to work with.

“I’ll come back to speak with you laer, Miguel. Please re-consider”, Moreno called out.

He didn’t have to. About three hours later, two of Vasquez’s men overpowered their officer and opened the gunhouse door. Vasquez was taken down to his cabin and told in no uncertain terms that leaving it would be a shooting offense.

*****

India, 6 October 1928

The upheavals in the Philippines had forced India to undertake a number of measures on various fronts. A security cordon had been put in place around the Filipino embassy in Hyderabad, partly to discourage any mischief by its occupants, but also to protect them from the small but vocal mob outside the perimeter. A number of Filipino citizens had also been politely requested to return to their hotels or places of temporary residence, officially for their own safety. Coincidently, the politics of some of them were in doubt and were being examined by Indian intelligence agents. Having those people stay put in one place would be convenient if it proved advisable to arrest them later.

Meanwhile, senior officials were consulting with India’s allies in the SATSUMA alliance. Foreign Affairs was working to establish a formal position for media and diplomatic purposes. Intelligence was examining whether there was any likelihood of foreign involvement. The military was evaluating how it could intervene if required.

The military was also surging a significant portion of the navy to intercept Panay. The battleship Babur and a cruiser were on alert to cover the region between the mainland and the Maldives. The seaplane carrier Palk Bay and two light cruisers had sortied from Mumbai to plug the gap between the Maldives and the Chagos islands. The area between the Chagos islands and South African territories to the west would be the most difficult to monitor, and had been assigned to elements of the Central Maritime District: the aircraft carrier Urumi and three light cruisers. Each of the squadrons had destroyer support, and the carrier groups each had an oiler on call.

Palk Bay had eight scouting aircraft aboard, Urumi twice that. Combined with land-based craft at Diego Garcia, Male, and Minicoy Island, there would be a lot of airborne eyes looking for Panay.

..I appreciate your posting this.


As for the XO's ideas, they are accurate...accurate summations of the propaganda the 'Left' provided to those it considered susceptible, that is.

(Only two Navy ships actually 'defected' - Panay and San Pablo. The rest of the Revolutionaries' (Coupists? Is that even a word?) "fleet" is to consist of vessels captured-in-port.)

Quoted

(Only two Navy ships actually 'defected' - Panay and San Pablo. The rest of the Revolutionaries' (Coupists? Is that even a word?) "fleet" is to consist of vessels captured-in-port.)

This suggests a loss, rather than a victory, for the revolutionaries. Or am I reading too much into this?

RLBH

'Paitence, Grashoppa'

A really interesting story arc you guys came up with. Keep it coming...

South of the Arabian Peninsula, 7 October 1928

The run out of the Red Sea had been taken at Panay’s top speed of twenty-four knots, hopefully leaving her clear of Indian reconnaissance aircraft or destroyers. That was something Moreno had been pleased with. Less satisfying was her bunkerage at the end of the run. He’d burned a lot of oil, he hadn’t had full tanks to start with, and there weren’t a lot of friendly places in which to replace it.

He’d considered stopping at Djibouti for oil, but passed on that potentially friendly port because it was still too close to As Salif. Ditto for the Italians, assuming they would even let him enter their waters - the Italian government seemed to have very little use for socialist revolutionaries such as those now commanding Panay. So he’d put in at a secluded port in western Oman, paying through the nose for as much oil as could be delivered - about one hundred and twenty tonnes, as it turned out. Some of that had only come after he’d made a few veiled threats. He’d also contemplated putting ashore a few of the more troublesome loyalists, but had concluded that it would do him more harm than good in the longer term.

Better to just keep them aboard and hand them over at home.

The bunkers were now about three quarters full, all total. If he could maintain cruising speed, it’d be enough to get home. If he had to work at flank speed for a while, he might have to contemplate another stop.

So what lay ahead as a possible fueling station? He studied a chart of the Indian Ocean and concluded it would be Sumatra, in Indonesia. Maybe he could bank on the historical antagonism between the Netherlands and the Indians to get his ship refuelled in a pinch.

He just had to get past those Indian island chains first. The shortest route would seem to be between the Chagos and Madives , though it offered the risk of land-based scouting aircraft. The Seychelles/Chagos gap wasn’t any more appealing. It was a longer trip, using more oil, and there was a likelihood that the South Africans would be out there as well as the Indians. All the Indians had to do was activate their alliance and the South Africans would be hunting him as well.

“Senor Resendo, plot a course for western Sumatra, via the Chagos/Maldives gap. If possible, try to put us between the two archipelagoes at night.”

“Si, Senor”, Resendo - the new navigator - replied. He moved over to the chart table and began examining the map of the Indian Ocean. “Sir, we can proceed on a straight line course at oh-six-one, or take a more southerly heading and then steer more easterly through the two island chains.”

“We’ll proceed directly there”, Moreno answered. He didn’t want to give the Indians any more time to deploy than necessary, plus he’d use less oil that way.

Hyderabad, 10 October 1928

“No sign of her yet, I gather?”, the Raj asked. He was looking a little better, sipping a fruity drink while reclining in a rattan seat beside one of the pools on the palace grounds.

“Not yet”, Admiral Paswan said. “The ships are mostly in position, however.”

“Good. Anything further I can do to make this hunt successful?”

The admiral thought about how to answer that. “Short of activating SAINT, no. All the resources we have available for this kind of work are deployed already.”

“I hear a ‘but’, Admiral”, the Raj observed, leaning forward in his chair. “Do you think I should invoke the treaty?”

“There’s not an immediate need. The South Africans are watching for her, and have agreed to let us bring Panay to heel if they detect her. But depending on what’s happening in the Philippines itself, I may find myself stretched for resources. In that case, I expect I will be asking that we at least get the South Africans to help cover some of our westernmost sea lanes.”

“Are we overdrawn for cruisers already?”, the Raj queried. “I thought we’d learned from 1924.”

“We have - unfortunately, this overlaps with a major building, refit and rebuilding program. I have Jaipur refitting, Chennai rebuilding as a training ship, and both Surat and Pune just starting to work up. Add in Dhaka’s unexpected repairs and that’s five cruisers unavailable. Most likely we’ll have another one or two damaged finishing off Panay.”

“Perhaps there’s a need for more reconnaissance assets for you, so that you can avoid using the cruisers in that role.”

Paswan smiled thinly. “My staff are revising the estimates at this moment, Sire. We could certainly do a better job of this with additional reconnaissance assets. Long-range seaplanes or land-based aircraft, smaller vessels with an aerial scouting capability. I’ll also be asking to go ahead with the seaplane carrier program, even if it does force me to push back the aircraft carrier program. One or two of those ships, especially with their secondary depot ship capabilities, would really be helpful right about now.”

The Raj nodded sagely. “I’m sure the Ministry of Finance will be excited to hear this. If there’s nothing else, Admiral, I’ll ask you to excuse me. We’ve still heard nothing from our embassy, so Minister Kadharni and I will be sorting out how to re-establish relations with the legitimate Filipino government.”

South of the Maldives, 13 October 1928

Strict blackout measures had been put in place for Panay’s nocturnal run between the Chagos and Maldives. Scuttles and hatches were covered by black curtains, and all unnecessary lighting was extinguished. Moreno had inspected them himself, walking the decks of the ship to ensure that no fatal rays of light emerged to be seen by Indian eyes. After identifying several areas of concern, and watching as they were corrected, he headed up to the open compass platform atop the bridge and waited for the sun to set.

As darkness descended, he ordered, “Helm, ring for all ahead full.”

“All ahead full, aye, sir”, the man at the helm, Cortez, responded. The acceleration was gradual enough that only the gauges attested to the cruiser working up to twenty-four knots. Well, that and the thicker plume of smoke that rose from the funnel as all of the boilers were brought into service.

“I’m glad that’s not going to be visible much longer”, he remarked out loud.

“Sir?”, queried the seaman standing watch on the port side.

“I said I’m glad our smoke won’t be visible much longer”, Moreno reiterated. “If anything will give our position away, it will be the smoke.”

“Aye, Sir”, the lookout agreed without enthusiasm. Moreno let him be; watching for Indian warships was more important than engaging in conversation with the ship’s captain.

Overhead, the sky was clear, but there was no moon. It was thus quite dark, and even the white froth of Panay’s bow wave and wake were reduced to dim chevrons on the black water. Although Moreno would never know it, Panay passed within a mile of a small fishing trawler that failed to see her in return. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, as the trawler had no modern communications equipment with which to report a sighting.

At 0200, Moreno was relieved and went below decks. Uncomfortable as it was, he napped in the little office just behind the bridge, his legs extended in front of him, his arms crossed, and his head bowed.

An orderly woke him just after 0500. “Dawn approaches, Capitan”, the older man murmured. He muttered an acknowledgement, gave himself a quick wash and comb, and clambered back up to the compass bridge.

“No contacts to report, sir”, the officer of the watch said softly. “We’ve maintained speed, although the chief engineer is concerned about the pressure in one of the boilers.”

“Very well, Teniente. Let’s set to general quarters.”

The crew went to general quarters quietly and efficiently, and then waited anxiously as the eastern sky lightened. Would Indian cruisers - or, God forbid, a battleship - be revealed by the early morning light?

No, they would not. Panay had the seas to herself. The most hazardous few hours of her run home were behind her now.

From - Admiralty Headquarters, Copenhagen
To - O.C.,IOS, Phuket
To - O.C., SCSS, Bangkok

Alert Advisory - CODE GREEN, repeat CODE GREEN

Possible renegade Filipino vessels traversing Indian Ocean after coup in Manilla...stop

Take all necessary measures to protect Siamese and AANM assets...stop

ALL CODE GREEN conditions apply...stop

AHQ Out....

Over the Indian Ocean, 14 October 1928

The forward superstructure and guns of the seaplane carrier Palk Bay whizzed by Pilot-Lieutenant Ajit Choksy as his Dhairya-C scout was kicked aloft by the ship’s port side catapult. He held the stick level, keeping the seaplane just a few metres above the waves as it picked up speed. Once up to ninety knots, he began a gentle turning climb to port.

“Pathan is up!”, came a shout from behind him, the gunner/observer, Halvidar Agarker, letting him know that the second aircraft of Palk Bay’s morning search pattern was now airborne behind them. They passed over one of the two destroyers accompanying the carrier as Choksy came out of the turn and took up the heading for their outbound leg. A couple of the tiny figures on the warship waved; Choksy waggled the wings once in acknowledgement.

The weather was not so bad today, about twenty percent cloud cover and none of the smog that sometimes drifted out this way from the industrial centres on India’s western coast. There was a bit of a headwind, though, dropping the aircraft’s already modest relative actual airspeed to barely one hundred knots. It’d be a long trip out.

The first ship to be sighted was a small freighter, steaming in the general direction of South Africa. Choksy didn’t even bother to throttle back to take a longer look. Nor did he take much interest in the various fishing boats or trawlers or schooners they occasionally overflew.

After a very laid-back leg out, Choksy brought the Dhairya around to a heading that would, once the winds were factored in, have them flying just south of west. He reached under his seat with one hand to locate a flask, popped the top, and drank some of the awful herbal tea that Palk Bay had taken on in Male before the last survey mission had started. He grimaced at the taste, but once that had faded, the warmth in his belly encouraged him to have some more.

“Haven’t we seen this one before?”, shouted Agarker.

“What? Where?”

“Off to the right, about red four-oh”, Agarker told him.

He looked over, easing his hold on the controls so he didn’t accidentally bring the plane around in the direction he was looking. “It’s a bloody trawler!”, he shouted back. “There’s probably a dozen just like it around here.”

“Right, but it’s not the same one, is it?”

“Of course not!”, Choksy called back.

“You’re sure?”

Choksy rolled his eyes, a gesture wasted on the observer seated behind him. “We would have to be on a reciprocal course to our initial one. We aren’t. Stop worrying about trawlers, and watch for warships.”

They flew on in silence. There were no comments on the few civilian vessels they encountered.

“Got some thick smoke over there at green six-oh”, Agarker reported, a few minutes before Choksy intended to turn back and head for Palk Bay. “Oil-fired ship, moving at a good clip.”

“We’ll have a look”, Choksy told him, and the Dhairya began to bank to the left.

The plume drew closer, and the speck at its base grew into an oblong shape.

“Has a military look to it”, Agarker remarked, examining the vessel with binoculars.

“We shouldn’t have anything out this way”, Choksy replied. “You might want to crank up the wireless.”

Agarker took that advice much better than the comment about ignoring trawlers. He sent a quick message to inform Palk Bay that they were investigating a possible contact, then went back to his binoculars. “One gun forward, one aft. That sounds right.”

“Is there one amidships?”

Agarker had to think about that. “Not sure. I think so. We’ll need to get closer.” Choksy didn’t bother to provide the obvious response. He just wished his normal observer was with him, and not back on the carrier having a molar removed.

“Yes, there’s the third turret. She looks close to the sketch in Jones. I’d say this is her”, Agarker added. “What do you think of her heading? Oh-seven-oh?”

“Oh-six-five”, Choksy replied. “We’re about...fifteen miles east of our second waypoint.”

“Alright. I-“, and Agarker’s words caught in his throat as puffs of smoke bloomed on the ship below. Fuzed shells burst well outside the range needed to damage the Dhairya, but both men flinched anyway.

“Send the report, damn it!”, Choksy snapped.

Panay, 14 October 1928

By mid afternoon, Moreno’s neck was sore from watching the tiny specks that paced Panay as she raced south-southeast. The cruiser was once again steaming at flank speed, in a desperate attempt to get as far away from India as possible and maybe, just maybe, get out of the effective range of the aircraft that were clearing shadowing her.

There was a tension on the ship, he could feel it. Every man aboard knew they’d been spotted, that they were being tracked. What they didn’t know was if the Indians could act on that knowledge and bring them to action before sundown. If they didn’t, Panay stood a good chance of breaking contact again - particularly as Moreno planned to come round to one-two-zero if the opportunity came. Come morning, he’d be well away from where the Indians would be looking.

The gunners were desperate to fire at the lurking aircraft but Moreno kept answering their requests with, “Negative. We’ll save the ammunition in case they send a strike at us.” He wasn’t a real believer in naval airpower, but the Indians had demonstrated its potential against the Danes four years back, and their Urumi, wherever she was, had more and better planes than the Danes had seen. Sixteen Toofanis, each with a pair of hundred-kilo bombs, could still make a mess of Panay.

Nonetheless, he began to wonder if there’d be a strike. The day was wearing on. Surely Urumi would have had time to launch one by now?

He was not upset to have the day pass by without an aerial attack.

Come nightfall, after silently giving thanks for this stroke of fortune, Moreno gave the order to come round to one-two-oh at eighteen knots.

Hyderabad, 15 October 1928

“We tracked her most of yesterday”, Admiral Paswan told the Raj, who was now back behind his massive teak desk, unconsciously fiddling with a peacock feather in his left hand. “However, she wasn’t where we projected she’d be this morning. Most likely, she’s taken a more southerly or southwesterly course to try and confuse us.”

“Will she succeed in doing so?”, the Raj asked.

“She will not. Palk Bay has been steaming south, and Urumi is steaming northeast. Between the two of them and the aircraft at Diego Garcia, I’m confident we’ll re-acquire her before I partake in the noon prayer.”

“That would be good”, the Raj commented. “Have my orders been transmitted to the force commanders?”

“They have, Your Highness. Both have acknowledged the orders.”

“I imagine neither is particularly happy about them, though”, the Raj observed. “However, it’s essential to me from a diplomatic perspective.”

“I understand”, Paswan said. “Happy or not, the commodores have their orders, and will execute them as required.”

From: Chief of Operations, Marine Nationale Staff
To Commanding Officer, Pacific Fleet and Commanding Officer Indian Ocean Flotilla

PRS Panay possible threat to French ships and possessions.

If encountered, she is to be monitored, and a sighting report transmitted to Indian naval forces.

She is not to be engaged on the high seas unless she poses a threat to French lives or property.

If she enters French waters she is to be detained and interned, until such time as a stable government holds power in the Philippines.

In this event, you are authorized to employ all necessary force.

From Vice Admiral Henri Benoit, Commander Pacific Fleet, Marine Nationale

Sir,

My forces are authorized to monitor the passage of PRS Panay and transmit reports to your forces. Please advise which frequencies and message formats will be most convenient for your forces to recieve this data.

In the event PRS Panay threatens French lives or property, or enters French territorial waters, I am authorized all necessary force to detain and intern her.

Mission: To protect French lives and property, and intern PRS Panay if she enters French territorial waters.

I order the following disposition of forces:

19th Patrol Squadron at Ca Mau is to institute daylight patrols on the line 6 degrees N, between 103 E and 106 E.

5th Submarine Flotilla is to establish a picket line on the line of 6 degrees N, between 104 degrees E and 105 degrees E.

6th Submarine Flotilla is to establish a picket line on the line of 6 degrees N, between 105 degrees E and 106 degrees E.

Aircraft Carrier Clemenceau is to steam to 8 degrees N 108 degrees E and commence daylight aerial patrols on the arc running between 6 degrees N 106 degrees E to 6 degrees N 110 degrees E to 8 degrees N 111 degrees E.

6 Flotilla Torpillieurs are to escort Aircraft Carrier Clemenceau.

Other French forces in Saigon are to raise steam and be prepared to sail on 30 minutes notice.

Rear Admiral Protopopov, commanding Russian forces at Cam Ranh Bay, has been notified of these dispositions.