Motorpsycho Nitemare (AMW)

[The Crooked Beat]

Coatzacoalcos

It was an oft-repeated and, indeed, in most cases very sensible axiom within military circles that no plan survived contact with the enemy, and Anthony Kitchen, a man of far-greater-than-average experience in prosecuting warlike operations, had seen at first hand a fairly convincing body of evidence in favor of its accuracy. To every generalization, however, there were exceptions, and though Kitchen would rarely have expected an outcome so favorable as that which crowned Force 117’s descent on Coatzacoalcos, neither was he about to reject what chance, perhaps, but also no small measure of skill and courage, had granted him.

Things had gone almost entirely the Kurosites’ own way ever since the fast-moving column of Main Force regulars stormed out of its Chiapas safe-haven days earlier, to discover that the government troops arrayed to contain them, elements III and V Brigades, in a state of unpreparedness which many revolutionary soldiers found almost shocking. Loath as he was to actually say it, lest he curse the operation by some ill-considered display of hubris, Kitchen, Force 117’s distinctively-mustachioed commander, could not resist remarking to himself that his plan had unfolded, so far anyway, like clockwork, an urban rising by PRPM cadres having contained the ADF-A garrison more ably than he thought possible. When Force 117, after handily brushing-aside several motorized columns sent, optimistically, to interdict its progress north, finally put in its own appearance, machine guns roaring and Shieldian-made recoilless rifles belching spectacular fiery plumes, organized resistance collapsed entirely.

On its own, the Kurosite victory at Coatzacoalcos would easily have rated as Anahuac City’s worst military defeat in recent memory, the first time government forces had lost control of a major urban area, albeit a provincial capital within relatively easy striking distance of PRPM base areas, in almost thirty years. And as the revolutionary troops –guerrillas was no longer really an appropriate term for personnel so well-armed, equipped, and organized- could hear on newly-captured radio sets, their success was being repeated, if perhaps at far greater cost and in places less emphatically, across the Tehuantepec Cordon, the clear-cut, fenced-in, mined and fortified internal border along which Anahuac City intended to resist further Kurosite encroachment indefinitely. Everywhere Kurosite Main Force columns appeared poised to attain all of their initial objectives and then some against resistance whose weakness and lack of energy surprised even the Kurosites themselves.

Kitchen himself, for the moment anyway, was less concerned with tactical matters than he was with getting his troops out of Coatzacoalcos, and on the move once again, before they became wholly absorbed in the celebrations set off by their arrival. He zipped-about at the head of a small column of captured Land Cruisers, many of them done up in exotic camouflage patterns, horns blaring, through streets thronged with well-wishers and civilian revelers as he tried to contact subordinate commanders and local PRPM leaders, to impose order and direction on what had rapidly become a very chaotic state of affairs. The horde of prisoners netted by Force 117, above five thousand by last count and growing, did nothing to simplify the task of reorganization, especially as, far from their being unruly or uncooperative, the ADF captives, a mixture of Army infantrymen and Navy base personnel, required for protection against vengeance-seekers and reprisals from multiple quarters a sizable and well-armed guard detail. Several, indeed, had already been saved from summary execution by Kurosite regulars, their hatred for Anahuac City only surpassed by their intolerance for indiscipline. Offensive success in any armed campaign, whether conducted by great powers or small partisan bands, derives in large measure from speed and momentum, and Kitchen, a field commander whose greatest victories had been built on exactly those same properties, found the delay frustrating beyond measure.

Primarily, of course, motivated by considerations tactical and operational in nature, Kitchen’s eagerness to have Force 117 up and moving as soon as possible was due also to a significant political imperative. Though the offensive had certainly managed to land on a conveniently unready sector of ADF cordon defenses, its aiming had more to do with demographics, and, determined as they were to bring General Tenoch’s regime down once and for all, PRPM central committee members did not believe themselves capable of doing so without first capturing the support, passive, grudging, or otherwise, of Anahuac’s large and invariably ill-treated African community of more than seventeen million individuals, approximately half of whom inhabited a long, thin tropical strip of jungle and plantation land that ran along the Caribbean Coast from Anahuac’s northern border to just beyond the Chiapas Liberated Zone. In years past, Kurosite forces had failed to make much progress among a group that, while on paper virtually tailor-made for revolutionary agitation, was very different from the PRPM’s core constituency of highland-dwelling, smallholding, Nahua-speaking peasants, and one which PRPM cadres themselves had been guilty, at various junctures, of treating with a degree of racism and paternalism only slightly less acute than that shown by regime officials. As a result, to the extent that Afro-Nahua, for the most part landless agricultural laborers and seasonal migrants between urban factory and rural farm or plantation, were politicized at all, most looked to Fredonia’s outlawed Social Progress Party in preference to domestic alternatives which traditionally focused their attention elsewhere.

That was all about to change, if things went according to plan anyway. Largely on the initiative of Edward Lane, Defense Secretary on the PRPM’s Central Committee and de facto party leader, in the years and months leading up to what senior Kurosites hoped would be their decisive showdown with Anahuac City, significant effort had been devoted to cultivating contacts with SPP activists on Nahua territory, and special measures taken to convince those whose opinions most mattered that a Kurosite victory was not only possible, but very much in their interest. Force 117, dashing north into an area that had never before played host to PRPM armed operations on anything like a major scale, was both to take ADF commanders by surprise and ignite a rising among the plantation laborers, who would be armed, it now appeared, from a mountainous arsenal of captured weaponry.

It was a gamble by any standard, and a major one at that. No single MPA field force of anywhere near comparable size or capability had previously attempted mobile operations at such a distance from Kurosite base areas, and if the ADF managed to rally, or to concentrate some of its better formations locally, Kitchen could imagine Force 117 marooned in hostile territory, cut off from support and supply, to be pummeled and destroyed at Anahuac City’s leisure. If, however, Kurosite attacks elsewhere continued to keep government troops occupied, and all available evidence indicated they would, Force 117 might expect to derail General Tenoch’s containment strategy altogether, and race north for the nation’s political center with nothing except local militias and paramilitaries, of dubious military value, and whatever scattered forces Tenoch managed to pry away from other sectors to bar its progress. Kitchen was determined not to let such a glittering opportunity slip out of his grasp for any reason.

Perhaps not quite as quickly as they had arrived, but with admirable speed nonetheless, the soldiers of Force 117 extracted themselves from Coatzacoalcos and forged ahead, final victory, however distant, seemingly within sight. Easily two hundred trucks, an eclectic mix Westertons, Steyrs, Toyotas and Isuzus, together with an equally diverse selection of jeeps and more than a few requisitioned civilian vehicles, had been acquired from the city’s former garrison, and as Kurosite troops sped northeast aboard their new motor transport, they looked, Kitchen remarked, more than ever before like a proper army. The PRPM, it seemed virtually certain, had passed well beyond its underground origins, and was more than ready to form a national government of its own.

Anahuac City

Events had to be quite serious indeed for General Tenoch to describe them as such, and still many of his advisers, in confronting a military disaster of stunning proportions, felt that even a decidedly uncharacteristic admission of concern from their famously undemonstrative leader fell short of what was really appropriate. Left to contend with a string of closely-grouped defeats that made the Anahuac government’s previous reverses in its various counter-guerrilla wars look minor in comparison, some regime officials would sooner have used adjectives like dire, desperate, or calamitous. Circumstances hardly called for restrained language, after all, and terms that in normal conditions might have been considered unnecessarily colorful seemed almost like understatement.

Although military intelligence could not ye t say as to how, what exactly was taking place could be seen clearly enough. The Kurosites had at long last, if sooner than ADF planners had anticipated, launched their anticipated Liberation Offensive, and were almost everywhere meeting, if not exceeding, their reputation for ferocity. What surprised Anahuac City more than the onslaught’s intensity and timing, however, was its scope and scale, estimates placing the PRPM’s battle force at somewhere around 100,000 fighters having proven, if initial reports were at all believable, off by perhaps two thirds. Areas considered firmly under government control had erupted in revolt, and revolutionary violence, sharp and costly if short-lived, had even broken out in the capital. The Tehuantepec Cordon had been conclusively shattered, the rural guards and militia units relied-upon to control vast sections of countryside had shown themselves utterly unreliable and virtually worthless in combat. Perhaps worst of all, five battalions, in addition to a substantial stock of equipment, had been lost at Coatzacoalcos alone, apparently to a division-size MLA mobile force now tearing on through the coastal lowlands at an unheard-of pace, untroubled by piecemeal attempts at interdiction. Anything more was, momentarily at least, entirely beyond the badly over-committed ADF’s means, and with insufficient forces available to support and relieve its regular battalions, dozens of police posts and civil guard forts were left, for want of any other choice, to fend for themselves, to stay afloat as best they could amid a populace alive, seemingly, with revolutionary fervor, or at minimum increasingly conscious that Tenoch’s regime was losing its hold on power.

General Tenoch had certainly tried, over the course of his fifteen-year reign, to avert just such a scenario, though his powers as autocrat fell in fact far short of the absolute. They did not, at any rate, provide any antidote to a fundamental weakness and fragility of government, nor did they halt corrosive corruption or offer any alternative to a civil strategy that was, in sum, self-defeating. Tenoch, just like his predecessors, had seen attempts at meaningful reform, the kind of reforms that, with luck, might have stolen the PRPM’s base of support, might have offered to a war-weary populace a genuinely attractive path forward, blocked and impeded by the very individuals and groups which he so relied upon for his day to day survival in power. Ultimately, he found it easier, and indeed safer, to conciliate those interests than to pursue an undeniably risky long-term program, between attempts, never enduringly successful, to link Anahuac City’s own struggle with wider anti-Drapoel initiatives.

Desperate as matters were, there remained, at least potentially, a way out. Anahuac City was on the ropes, certainly, and by all indicators headed for disaster, but had not yet been defeated, and even if things went entirely their own way, the MLA could not possibly be in the capital for a matter of weeks. And fatal though a Kurosite victory would be for Tenoch and his regime, it doubtless represented only slightly less of a nightmare scenario for Anahuac’s powerful and ruthless northern neighbor. Relations with the Gulf States were frosty, to say the least, and as part of his attempt to gain wider international legitimacy for his regime Tenoch had only increased that diplomatic distance. A direct appeal to Fredonia for military assistance would entail more personal embarrassment and loss of face than a man such as Daniel Vere Tenoch was usually prepared to endure, but it seemed probable, indeed almost certain, that the Gulf States would take matters into its own hands soon enough. If Anahuac City meant to retain any control over the situation, argued many of Tenoch’s advisers, action would have to be taken before Fredonia fully realized how weak the military government’s position actually was.

Simultaneously, although few regime officials expected to receive the reply they desired, Japan was presented with a desperate appeal for emergency aid, financial in nature at least and, if at all possible, military as well. Just perhaps, the prospect of total victory for the PRPM, and the almost certain loss of its local investments and business interests should that occur, would prove sufficient to overcome Japan’s traditional aversion to overseas commitments, and bring forth a level of support that might, conceivably, avert or at least lessen any need to go begging elsewhere.

[Nova Gaul]

Anahuac City, Anahuac

Perhaps as recently as a few months ago General a.k.a. President Tenoch’s junta would have received a few condolences from the Japanese Empire regarding his government’s unfortunate plight. Perhaps, at best, maybe, a few token humanitarian supplies would have been proffered…for a fee. Japanese investments in the fiscally troubled but resource-blessed Central American banana-republic, as the saying went, were relatively insignificant. Insignificant, at least, when compared to the major economic initiatives undertaken between Tokyo and Saidpur, where the Empire had increasingly vital interests at stake. If the PRPM did seize the capital, something Tokyo’s intelligence bureaus felt was well within the realm of possibility, Japanese investors would lose out on some lucrative deals, but they might well recoup them given the growing ‘investment opportunities’ in South Asia.

Yet all that reasoning was changed barely a week ago when Prime Minister Hiranuma Kiichirō announced (with the implicit support of the entire Japanese imperial framework) the Pacific Trade Organization Initiative. The Empire of Japan had a mind to grow in a big way; it made no secret about its recent desire to become the world’s premier economic power. And although Anahuac failed to notice (perhaps because Tenoch and his cadres were too busy dealing with a full-fledged insurrection) the Japanese had extended an invitation for the Central American country to become a founding member of the trade bloc.

Consequently the Japanese ambassador to Anahuac, Junichiro Fujimori, made a bee-line to Daniel Vere Tenoch’s lair.

As a good Japanese he got straight down to business; as a good Japanese he bargained from a position of strength. Before the conversation began in earnest about what the Empire might or might not be willing to do to succor Tenoch’s regime the Japanese ambassador presented the general with highly accurate intelligence satellite prints taken of rebel troop movements in Coatzacoalcos. The news was grim, as might well be imagined, and the Japanese presented to their American trading partner only the grimmest snapshots of impressive rebel troop movements and installations.

“With all due respect, General Tenoch, it is our belief that your government is facing a potentially catastrophic situation,” intoned Fujimori, inhaling air through clenched teeth as Japanese were wont to do when revealing unpleasant news. That said, he promptly tucked the briefly displayed photos back into his briefcase.

But there was, it turned out, good news for Tenoch. Very good news. First the stick, as the saying went, and then the carrot.

Ambassador Fujimori continued on with his pragmatic declarations. Without preamble, he announced that, as matters stood, Anahuac’s government could expect no aid from the Empire of Japan—however, if Anahuac were to sign on to the Pacific Trade Organization as a full member, without delay, that would all change radically.

Ambassador Fujimori painted a vivid picture to the general. In forty-eight hours independent Japanese military contractors, using Japanese equipment, could begin the primary mission of continuous drone airstrike operations against PRPM targets and undertake their secondary mission on training Anahuac operatives in drone-warfare use—after which Mitsubishi Heavy Industries would only be too happy to license the appropriate satellites and sell several dozen of the technologically advanced weapons to the Central American state. In seventy-two hours proper Imperial Japanese Army advisers would get their ‘boots on the ground’ to train up counter-terrorist units of the Anahuac military, supplying (i.e. selling) them the latest in Japanese hardware: arguably the best in the modern world. In a week, Imperial Japanese Army Air Force personnel would supply (and sell again) a dozen Kawasaki Ki-932 fighter-bombers to the Anahuac Air Forces, and the heavy jet would no doubt radically alter the situation on the ground against the rebels. Lastly, the icing on the cake or the cheese in the tortilla or the red bean paste in the mochi, the Empire of Japan would deploy a full battalion of infantry—perhaps nearly a thousand troops—to Anahuac City to act as a ‘peacekeeping’ force in these troubled times within the month. And all this was just for starters.

It was, no doubt, a stupefying offer from the general’s perspective, but Fujimori-san went on to explain that although Anahuac lay far outside the Empire’s recognized sphere of influence he doubted that the United Gulf States would object. Indeed, it was Japan’s secret hope that bringing Anahuac into the Pacific Trade Organization first would be a powerful incentive for the Gulf States to follow suit despite their initial hesitancy (they were, after all, invited as founding members but seemed to be wavering given feared reprisals from socialist California). Moreover, yet another added incentive for Japanese intervention, Japanese involvement might act as a buffer between the Gulf States and Anahuac, mayhap, in a strange way, helping thaw relations between the two American states. “And forget asking California for help,” dismissed the Japanese ambassador, “do you think liberal socialists would allow your regime to long remain in power without concocting some strange election maneuvers of their own? No, General Tenoch, you will not find any offer greater than that offered by Tokyo and His Imperial Majesty’s government.”

It was a regime-saving offer, but in concluding Fujimori would not let the price be forgotten: full and immediate membership in the Pacific Trade Organization. This included, the general was reminded, Anahuac immediately adopting the Japanese Yen, without any stipulation whatsoever, as its reserve currency. It went without saying the Japanese would also expect special favors as well, exclusive mineral rights to Anahuac’s vast natural reserves, affordable (read slave) labor available to exploit those deposits on demand, and the understanding that, in economic terms, from this point forward Anahuac would suckle at the Yen’s proverbial teat.

“But let’s not mince words,” finished the Japanese Ambassador, sliding the terms and agreements of the Pacific Trade Organization onto the generals swimming-pool sized desk, he even added a pen. “If Anahuac becomes a signatory to the PTO, the Empire of Japan is in a position to guarantee the continuation of your excellency’s government. If the right investment opportunities are offered, I do not think that the Prime Minister would even rule out joint military operations against the rebel menace. These are our terms: you may take them, you may leave them, but you may not modify them. Thank you for your time general, and I wish you a pleasant evening. Please do think our offer over carefully…but I wouldn't take too long. The Kurosites will soon be knocking at your door.”

[Iansisle]

Even in the best of conditions, the suspension on a Westerton Buck could be described as “subpar” and the roads west of Coatzacoalcos were distinctly less than optimum. In fact, the only thing that seemed to keep the harsh jolting from knocking the truck out of gear was the equally pathetic transmission, which required three strong men and a boy to shift. Herminia Topete, lieutenant with the Freedman's Brigade's foreign liaison command, grimaced as a particularly bad jolt rattled through the Buck and looked through the mud-streaked windshield at Kitchen's Land Cruiser.

Insinuating her way into Force 117's grand offensive had not been easy, not least because San Diego had been decidedly lukewarm in its relations with the Kurosite PRPM and had not sent any great resources to its aide – indeed, Lieutenant Topete, her small support staff, and their communications equipment represented the entirety of California's commitment to the PRPM. It did make Presidio Hill slightly uncomfortable to deal with the Kurosites, considering the importance of their relations with Great Walmington and the presumably high level of Drapoel advisers and technicians present in south-eastern Anahuac.

On the other hand, General Tenoch and his military government, despite the dictators attempts to distance himself from the Gulf States, was even more objectionable, and California had overcome Walmington's protests in its continued attempts at economic rapprochement in the Congo. A limited fact-finding mission had been the only real compromise possible. It was just California's good luck that said fact-finding mission had happened to correspond roughly with the start of major offensive operations against the regime – and that Topete had been able to convince the Kursoites of her ultimate good intentions.

Unfortunately, Presidio Hill itself was in no condition to receive Lieutenant Topete's reports on the state of the PRPM, which generally extolled their military efficiency, downplayed the involvement of Drapol, and usually concluded with a recommendation that additional resources be sent. New, unexpected elections were just a couple weeks away, the party in power had little to no legitimate claim to govern, and the war in Europe was grabbing most of the headlines. Indeed, the only thing that seemed likely to unify policymakers in San Diego behind the PRPM would be for Tokyo to ignore the Prime Minister's warnings that selling arms to Anahuac City or the Gulf States would be seen as a distinctly unfriendly act.

[The United Gulf States]

St. Mary, New Legio

Olongwe panted heavily and bent double against the doorframe, hands on knees for some time before taking a moment to beat a considerable cloud of dust from his cap. He gave Papa a glance that could only be interpreted as declaring, I am too god damned old for this shit!

Derek himself seemed relaxed, and was already reclined in a folding chair that hardly seemed fit for a man of his carriage, resting the leg he'd irreparably damaged in his youth and searching for a means by which to light his cigar.

”Sit down, son.” the Federacy's most wanted man advised Pvt. Tendyala, who was pacing in an agitated fashion, almost skipping back and forth.

The trio had just escaped with their lives when locals warned the rebels of approaching helicopters moments before a pair of Hueys arrived to drop a series of barrel-bombs on the timber and scrap-iron roofs of the ramshackle neighbourhood.

”We're always hiding or running!” the young man protested, ”We're more like rats than soldiers! In the south, they're moving on the capital! We're sitting in a fucking slum!”

Realising that his last remark could be read as an attack on Igomo, he being after all the only one actually sitting down at that moment, Theo stopped pacing and bit his tongue.

Olongwe, catching his breath and righting himself before shuffling into the spartan little room and dragging another flimsy seat from under the desk upon which Papa's foot rested, offered some sympathetic words.

”They are making big moves, down south. We should wait and see how they go, comrades, before we try to copy them big actions. Maybe Anahuac run them all down with tanks. Maybe Clarke drop the bomb on them. Wait and see, wait and see.”

Tendyala's lip bulged as he licked his fangs in angry frustration.

”Better yet we wait for Clarke send his men then we start big war!” The cocky, somewhat shrill interjection of Mini Sinkala turned heads as she strutted into the run-down safehouse, left-arm in a bloody sling. ”Ain't no way him an' his ignore this battle. Whole division goin' south before you can say checkmate!”

Olongwe looked thoughtful as Tendyala hurried to fetch Sinkala a bottle of water for which she had not asked. There was a brief exchange of quips and jibes as the old man dared to ask whether she'd been followed, after briefly inquiring as to her health, and she replied with easy sarcasm.

”She may have a point.” He conceded, glancing at Derek. ”We stay loose and fluid, wait for soldiers to go, then we pick a city and... converge.”

Igomo, who had listened without appearing to be interested, unlaced his boots, stamped on a mouse for some reason, and then retrieved from his tunic a half-full box of matches by which to light his cigar, now he contributed to the discourse.

”If we wait for the Kurosites to win in Anahuac...” he began in that famous bass that could have made a wealthy singer of any man who, unlike Derek, could carry even a dim approximation of a tune. ”...and with such a large force they could march on to anywhere... while we can not win here... we will lose all of our influence, and everyone will join the Kurosites.”

Sinkala sniffed. ”You can no be sayin' we should help Tenoch!”

Tendyala spun around, having been loitering in the doorway, one foot twitching relentlessly.

”Ha ha ha ha! No! Papa chortled. ”No, sister! But we have to act. Act now, and act decisively. The brothers and sisters in the south have to be mobilised... under our banner. Go to the south, with your war-wound, and go with Tendyala who is so young and 'so cool', and tell our people to rise. I want you, sister, son, to make a United Front with the Kurosites. We *have to* be part of the victory in the south, part of the new government.” He was speaking slowly, stopping from time to time to take a puff. But everyone stood, sat, and leaned in reverent silence for so long as it took. ”I am sure that the ruling faction of Nahuatl and Europeans will eventually try to crush our black party and end the unity government... and then we will cut our brothers' and sisters' land from the south and unite it with our-own. The struggle has been long. The struggle will be longer.”

Fredonia, New Gaul

“Eighty thousand sounds an awful big bunch of boys to us folks who grew up in a town a' two-hundred, but look how many these jumpin' bean commies have at arms! We are facing the horde, ladies and gentlemen, and it is coming on fast!”

Parliament was having an interesting day. The Honorable Member for Fort Water, which centred on a large city of that name on the southern frontier, upon the Gulf, was sponsoring a bill of historic proportions.

The armed forces, he proposed, ought to be increased to more than double their present regular strength. The conscript obligation was being treated idly. It was, if anything, making young men less patriotic, because it was so easy to shirk. “The state is weak, and the state isn't worth serving!” he bellowed, assuming the voice of a college-age kid made of straw.

The Minister, Joki Hughes, alleged that countless millions of dollars were being squandered on contracts negotiated within closed circles, on elaborate measures to circumvent import-bans on foreign technology, on enticing officers with high wages, when really the honor of serving one's country and the damned obligation to defend one's race should be enough to inflame the spirit of white youth. He faced some opposition even within his own party, though, from those who said, “Make the Blacks do it! They're cheaper!” and others who suggested that his, “Extend conscription to White women!” policy was barking mad, un-Christian, and sure to ruin the already outnumbered White population.

But, with the startling advance of the Kurosite Main Force and a reported terrorist bombing of poor civilians in St. Mary, the Minister found unprecedented support. Tenoch's reticence with regards to bilateral relations was now framed by the press as the conniving of a race-traitor, and equivalent to actions that most White citizens almost implicitly accepted as grounds for a death-sentence in domestic criminal law.

In the chamber, a chant started on the government's back benches. “Coup! Coup! Coup!” Henceforth, Hughes' far-right faction would be called Pigeons... doves were now hawks, and majestic hawks were subject to being shit upon like any other stuffy old statue.

Friends and friends-of-friends south of the border were soon getting nods, winks, nudges, and cash-stuffed envelopes as Fredonia resolved that the current administration in Anahuac City had had its fun and was past due to move on. And then there was a pretty young white-girl with a plastic one-shot gun spat-out to a controversial Gulfer blueprint by a 3D printer...

Times of Fredonia: Clarke Hospitalised by Stroke!

Doctors' at Fredonia Protestant Hospital delivered a bleak prognosis overnight as the President, who had reportedly been suffering from extreme stress and recent panic-attacks...

[The Crooked Beat]

Anahuac City

Anahuac's seat of government, a teeming, overflowing metropolis of anywhere from eight to twenty million residents, was one of very few places over which General Tenoch could still project a convincing image of control, one area where Kurosite guerrillas had seen their attempted uprising defeated conclusively, and for that matter with great brutality, by regime forces. Police and Presidential Guard patrols prowled a city that might easily have appeared, to an outside observer, well on its way back to normalcy after a brief and ultimately fruitless spasm of violence, initiated as were so many similar episodes throughout Anahuac’s modern history by a conspiratorial cell of agitators whose ambitions greatly exceeded their means.

This, at least, was the Tenoch government’s official line, though attempts by state propagandists to turn their one notable recent victory, a highly unequal fight against a very minor PRPM commitment, into some great military success story, struck as distinctly threadbare even those who most wanted to believe it, and had so far failed to persuade any consequential foreign observer. Tenoch did not see any reason to believe that Japan would prove more gullible than the rest, and he wondered, in private, whether freshly-articulated strategic ambitions might stand any chance of trumping a deeply-rooted isolationism. Aid enough to make possible, even remotely possible, a significant improvement in Anahuac City’s military fortunes would represent a change of policy indeed.

Tenoch, then, agreed to Ambassador Fujimori's proposition without delay, and in all probability would have given his assent equally promptly to a set of conditions far more stringent, or an offer far more limited. Fujimori could not, after all, ask of Tenoch anything that he wouldn’t otherwise lose to the Kurosites, while the simple prospect of survival opened-up, by itself, an entire world of possibilities. Much as he might have wished it otherwise, Tenoch could not honestly find much at fault with Fujimori's line of argument. Blustery propaganda aside, the regime's very survival was undeniably in question, and without substantial external support it could not be expected to hold on for much longer. If matters continued uninterruptedly along their present track, Tenoch's Directory could almost expect civilian morale to give out before the ADF's powers of resistance, and long-term prospects appeared decidedly dim on both counts. Japan alone seemed able, under such circumstances, to rescue Anahuac City from near-certain disaster, its decision to involve itself directly in Nahua struggles, while driven fundamentally by self-interest, representing nonetheless a best-case scenario for a government otherwise just managing to hold its head above water.

Privately, General Tenoch doubted that the sort of military assistance so far mentioned in specific language would prove sufficient to halt a Mesoamerican People's Army which had grown, if some of the more alarming projections were accurate, to a strength of more than three hundred thousand active militants, but neither did he believe that Tokyo would readily back away from a foreign policy initiative arguably more ambitious than any launched by the Japanese state in recent memory. Perhaps the Japanese, gripped suddenly by a sense of caution, would change their minds, and choose to scale back their commitment or jettison it altogether in the hours and days which would necessarily pass before its full extent became clear to outside elements. Anahuac could in truth do very little to prevent such a scenario, the Tokyo government being, in general, better-informed about local developments than Anahuac City itself, and unlikely to lose much face for failing to prop-up a nation that was neither, officially, an ally, nor an especially significant trade partner. Then again, the General reflected, such a proud nation, one furthermore captivated by a belief in its own greatness, could not possibly accept defeat so easily, certainly not within clear view of its Californian rival, now that it had invested in Anahuac not only capital, but prestige as well.

Although the true nature and extent of Japan’s support would not be known with certainty for some time, and could easily change in any number of ways, Anahuac City for all intents and purposes powerless to prevent, prior to that point, for propaganda purposes Japanese intervention was being treated as nothing short of established fact. Official sources wasted no time in publicizing the contents, somewhat embellished, of Fujimori’s conversation with General Tenoch, a piece of news which was greeted so enthusiastically, by certain elements anyway, that the risk of causing offense in Tokyo appeared have been well worth running. The prospect of a Japanese intervention was, for those inclined to support General Tenoch’s regime, little short of electrifying, a glaring ray of hope projected onto a landscape otherwise covered in darkness. It was, above all, the perfect antidote to the prevalent sense of doom and helplessness which accompanied initial communist victories, all Tenoch’s talk of total resistance suddenly beginning to sound a great deal more practical.

A press conference was convened early the very next day to confirm, ostensibly, information which had already been circulated widely through informal channels. General Tenoch himself, kitted-out in camouflage fatigues and a paratrooper’s red beret, was the event’s centerpiece, in spite of everything still a perfect image of strength and resolution, seemingly unaffected by the military and political disasters unfolding around him. Perhaps alone among Anahuac’s ruling echelon, Tenoch, though required by circumstances to apply force of character in an unusually direct appeal, retained a hold on the nation’s collective imagination. No other figure could hope to inspire feelings of loyalty nearly so blind, nor of patriotic sentiment nearly so passionate, under normal conditions, to say nothing of what, for many, amounted to a nightmare state.

Tenoch’s address, as usual brief and unadorned, though utterly convincing in its sincerity, resounded through the capital on television screens, radios, and loudspeakers, its effect nothing if not steeling, and was greeted at its conclusion by a thunderous round of applause, not entirely lacking in spontaneity. There followed a largely pre-scripted question-and-answer session, Tenoch striving to address and debunk, fervently, what he described as myths of Kurosite supremacy. Several minutes in, the General fielded a question from a reporter whose station at the very front of the press contingent had, quite likely, less to do with her credentials than with her atypically photogenic appearance. She stood, smiled winningly, and while reciting her assigned piece withdrew from a suit-jacket pocket a small, strangely-shaped chunk of pale plastic. No one present recognized it for what it was, unknown as were such weapons in Anahuac to date, until the assassin had drawn, aimed, and fired, felling with a single well-placed, or perhaps lucky, shot the nation’s great survivor.

Broadcast feeds promptly cut out as journalists were cleared away by dress-uniformed presidential guards, and the assassin, shockingly enough a young lady of no immediately apparent communist associations, was carried off bodily beneath an obligatory barrage of truncheons and rifle-butts.

Quauhtochco

That Force 117’s spectacular run of good luck would end eventually was a likelihood accepted as nothing short of inevitable by most Mesoamerican People’s Army field commanders, though even Anthony Kitchen himself was immensely surprised at how far his command managed to travel before it encountered government resistance of a type that could be described as anywhere near determined. While Anahuac City had finally managed to assemble from the tattered remnants of Military Area B, bolstered by hastily-mobilized reservists and a smattering of commandos, cavalrymen, and presidential guards, a blocking force that appeared to stand a reasonable chance of performing in its intended role, through a successful feint against Tepixtepec (Cordoba) Kitchen was able to sustain the Kurosites’ rapid tempo of advance for another two days. A major clash, however, could not be postponed for much longer, and as government troops were frantically redeployed to meet a Kurosite advance on Xalapa, a pitched battle soon developed.

For so long as she remained with Kitchen’s headquarters, Herminia Topete would enjoy, for an outsider, a uniquely immediate perspective on an armed engagement that, by all indications, was set to become the largest and most intense seen on American soil for half a century. In spite of their distinct inferiority in the article of heavy weapons, and rough numerical parity with the ADF, both sides fielding approximately fifteen thousand combatants all-inclusive, Kurosite forces held a number of important advantages. Although word of a possible Japanese intervention had brought with it a much-needed boost to government morale, Kurosites continued to display, in general, a level of aggressiveness and tenacity seldom observed in their opponents. Many ADF troops, furthermore, having grown accustomed to the largely static routine of garrison duty at fortified posts, adapted poorly to a more mobile, fluid environment, and much the same could be said of their commanders. Consistently outmaneuvered, they gave ground at a steady rate, while those units, never many to begin with, most able to match or exceed Force 117’s tactical abilities, were drawn ever more thinly by continuous demands for relief and counterattack.

Kitchen himself, finally persuaded to abandon his choice Land Cruiser, painted in a striking if highly impractical blue-green navy camouflage pattern, somewhat compromised by the inclusion of a gigantic gold anchor on the bonnet, for a less conspicuous vehicle, was a blur of activity. A shortage of radio equipment, much of the vast horde captured at Coatzacoalcos having proven of little more than scrap value, forced him to take a role in the fighting that was far more direct than most of his staff, and his bodyguard contingent especially, would have preferred, though one that Kitchen absolutely relished. He was, as Lieutenant Topete was constantly reminded, no ‘bourgeois general,’ but a ‘Red war chief,’ and one who had no right to insulate himself from the dangers faced by those under his command. And between constant ADF air strikes, mortar and howitzer barrages, or the MPA’s time-honored tendency to bypass and isolate government strong-points, rather than attack them head-on, thus preserving pockets of enemy troops far behind what might be called the front line, to an extent that one existed to begin with, danger could be found in vast quantities. Darting from one trouble-spot to the next, receiving a steady stream of couriers and runners by foot, bicycle, moped and motorcycle, Kitchen directed Force 117 with a degree of decisiveness and clarity of thought that most military professionals would doubtless find enviable, and monitored with grim satisfaction Kurosite progress against an enemy that, for all its sudden discovery of a backbone, still appeared to be losing.

Fighting raged from morning until night, laying waste to most of Xalapa, and showed no sign of letting up after sundown. Eerily lit from above by parachute flares, dispensed at regular intervals by orbiting Piaggios and Graye-Bankfield amphibians, and at ground level by innumerable small and large fires, the battlefield, which stretched across the ruined cityscape and into surrounding hillsides, remained alive, often deafeningly so, with warlike sounds. Army DAS-316s wheeled overhead, occasionally spitting jets of tracers at targets below, and Air Force fighter-bombers maintained what was, for such a poorly-equipped and underfunded arm, a highly respectable sortie rate, but the night belonged undoubtedly to Force 117, and in darkness the MPA’s particular strengths weighed especially heavily.

Numbered among the thousands of MPA fighters engaged in and around Xalapa were a high proportion of new recruits, predominantly, in line with geography and local demographics, of African extraction. In deliberate contravention of normal practice, which required a prospective Main Force combatant to undergo a lengthy term of political indoctrination and military training prior to active service, Kitchen had in a matter of days taken in nearly two thousand volunteers, many furnished by the local PRPM organization where it existed but far more skimmed from the SPP’s roster, and those of affiliated groups. These newly-christened ‘auxiliary companies,’ equipped from stocks of captured arms and mounted, quite often, aboard mopeds, motorcycles, or whatever other civilian transport could be found, were rationalized in tactical terms as a liaison between Force 117 itself, despite its best intentions an outsider, and the resident population. Parceled-out at a rate of one platoon per company-equivalent, they were to provide the sort of timely intelligence, area-specific knowledge, and coordinating influence that would so facilitate Force 117’s rapid and victorious advance through an unfamiliar region.

Political motives, of course, were also in play, much as Derek Igomo had predicted. Armed and equipped by any standard generously, and allowed an important role in combat operations, the new volunteers were nonetheless dispersed in groups small enough, so Kitchen and Lane both hoped, that their prior ethnic and party allegiances might give way to identification with the vast Kurosite army into which they had, for all practical purposes, been inducted. Even low-level commanders were under orders to make the new recruits feel welcome, to treat them as an equal and integral part of the Kurosite armed force, and it was made abundantly clear that any failure to do so would be punished. Quite apart from the importance of such gestures in maintaining morale among troops who, almost universally, possessed little to no military training and no experience whatsoever of open battle, the PRPM executive leadership wanted very much for those same Afro-Nahua elements to see the Kurosite party as their own.

[Nova Gaul]

Anahuac City, Anahuac

Despite General Tenoch’s fears about the willingness of the Empire of Japan to live up to its side of their bargain, that is to say to secure his government in exchange for fairly substantial economic rights and financial hegemonies, events immediately following the now-heralded meeting between the Ambassador Fujimori and the Central American strongman would disprove his worries. For the Empire of Japan had, in fact, had its eye on the resource rich but popularly poor state for some years now as a strategic partner, and the recent confluence of events, especially Tenoch’s signing off on the Pacific Trade Organization, ensured a bold intervention by the bourgeoning and ambitious empire. Unbeknownst to Tenoch, the cadre of military commanders and corporate executives that were the power behind the visible Japanese government had vital interests at stake, and recent ‘permission’ given by the Diet to intervene in the affairs of Anahuac was but a prelude to a substantial and long-term involvement.

At the empire’s request and at Tenoch’s approval a significant chunk of the airport complex and several cavernous hangers were turned over to Anahuac’s new Japanese allies to serve as an impromptu command complex. The zone, renamed rather poetically Goryōkaku or ‘heaven fort’ was soon thereafter locked down and secured and Imperial Japanese Army personnel (several platoons from the 51st Regiment, 15th Brigade, IJA, some 90 troops), and then the work began.

Within twelve hours of their meeting, before even news of it had become well publicized, the first of many Imperial Japanese Army Air Force Kawasaki Mitsubishi International Jets, the M-100 model, began to touch down at Anahuac City. The commercial airliners, owned and utilized by the Imperial Japanese Army Air Force rather than the main user Japan Airlines, were only slightly modified. Rather than carrying the usual 366 passenger payload the military jetliners were restricted to a mere 100, along with a very light cargo capacity, in order to maximum both storage and range.

Dubbed lightly by many Japanese officials the Tokyo Express, the modified civilian aircraft landed on average, approximately, one per every two or three hours, jetting in from the Japanese home islands. After refueling they returned straight away only to return a few dozen or so hours later, and so a continuous flow of Japanese men and material accumulated in Anahuac City. On the first several aircraft along with the aforementioned platoons of the 51st Regiment, as promised, were five Yamaha C-MAX reconnaissance and ten Kawasaki KAQ-1 combat unmanned aerial vehicles. Operated officially by ‘independent contractors’, who were in reality on-leave IJAAF pilots, the first of the high-tech and lethal drones were put into operation hours after arriving.

So within hours after arriving, aided by a Japanese intelligence satellite which had been locked into orbit over Anahuac by the recently reconvened Imperial General Headquarters, three of the five C-MAX drones were flying high behind PRPM lines, gathering terabytes of live intel on Kurosite activities. With their Anahuac Defense Force allies no doubt in awe as they looked on, the Japanese operators brought up target after target and detailed movement after movement, the entire scale of General Kitchen’s movements viewed and analyzed to a nicety. They then converged on his force outside Xalapa, and both the Japanese and ADF personnel could see in real time just how ruthless and effective the Kurosite PRPM was. That was when they sent in the KAQ-1s.

With only five KAQ-1 combat unmanned aerial vehicles operational over the scene of chaos that was Xalapa, the damage they could inflict would be limited. But the precision with which the Type 93 air-to-surface missiles rained down death on the Kurosites would be noticeable. Here a vehicle was atomized, struck down with pinpoint accuracy from 7,600m above. There a rebel troop formation was blown apart, watched hundreds of kilometers away by cool Japanese operators and no doubt eager ADF officers. And then the combat drones, their munitions expended, would return to Anahuac City just as the other five flew deep behind enemy lines to strike targets with similar precision around Coatzacoalcos. A man with Kitchen’s obvious intelligence would realize a new element had come into play, no doubt.

Meanwhile, in Anahuac City itself, a man had arrived on the first M-100 who was to play a vital role in the new Anahuac-Imperial Japanese alliance: Tadamichi Kuribayashi, recently appointed Special Envoy from the Empire of Japan to Anahuac. The sextegenarian, slim and with a ramrod back, dressed in a tailor-made suit boasting the Imperial chrysanthemum seal or ‘kikumon’ on the lapel, was a recently retired Imperial Japanese Army general, leading tactician, and noted light of the Tōseiha or Control Faction of the IJA. Tōseiha attempted to represent the more politically conservative (moderate) elements within the army, as opposed to the radical and ultranationalist Kōdōha. Given that Tōseiha embraced cooperation between bureaucracy and the zaibatsus to maximize Japan's industrial and military capacity, Kuribayashi was the perfect man for the job. Indeed, he had been handpicked for the assignment, and it was rumored that he was even chosen with the blessing of the emperor himself.

General Kuribayashi was tasked with managing the impossible: to prevent the collapse of Tenoch’s regime and, simultaneously, to spearhead the incorporation of Anahuac’s rentier economy into the empire’s. Ambassador Fujimori was relegated to overseeing that the reserves of Anahuac’s banks, central and otherwise, were converted into the Japanese Yen. This they did with exceeding efficiency, and while Kuribayashi set up an office at Anahuac International Airport to manage the military aspect of the Japanese mission back at the embassy Fujimori and his cohorts from the Bank of Japan (who arrived on continuing civilian flights to Anahuac from Japan Airlines) poured over the accounts of the Mesoamerican state with all the eagerness and diligence of tax assayers.

But both men were taken by shock at news of the attempt on Tenoch’s life. Kuribayashi himself was scheduled to have held a joint conference with General Tenoch later that very day to express the solidarity the Empire of Japan showed towards Anahuac, but that did not look likely now. Both men scrambled to speak to members of the Directory to find out just what had happened, and who exactly was in charge now. Most importantly, Kuribayashi would not neglect to influence any possible succession, to ensure that any strongman who followed Tenoch would be as equally pliable from the perspective of the Chrysanthemum Throne. Perhaps, Kuribayashi would muse, a quasi-elected Directory to replace DVT might even improve the situation of Anahuac…and its Japanese investors…allies, that is.

Still, even such a calamitous event as the attempted (perhaps successful) assassination attempt of DVT would have no affect on the slow and escalating imperial involvement in Anahuac. The Empire did act not rashly, example the slow build up to the Pacific Trade Organization, but when it did act, it acted with determination. That same day the first elements of the training company of the 51st Regiment, 15th Brigade, arrived at Anahuac International Airport by means on the ongoing Tokyo Express. At full strength the company would comprise some 350 soldiers, soldiers whose task was to give advanced weapons training to Anahuac’s paratroopers regarding equally advanced Japanese arms to be sold to them. And as a palpable sign of Japanese support, not one hour after the attempt on General Tenoch’s life, seven Kawasaki Ki-932 heavy fighter bomber’s screamed over Anahuac City in formation—they had been refueled midflight over the Pacific (no mean feat in and of itself)—and would soon be turned over to the pilots of Anahuac, after crash-training by their Yamato friends. Kuribayashi would be pleased the report, eventually, to DVT or to whomever succeeded him, that the Japanese Imperial Government had placed an order for fifty-six of the relatively advanced fighter aircraft, all of which would in the coming months be sold to Anahuac.

But out in the Pacific, the extent of Japanese involvement was slowly congealing, and the extent of it would have shocked even General Tenoch, had he been conscious…

The Pacific

It left the massive port complex at Yokohama at 3 a.m., with the tide.

It left with no fanfare.

It left secretly.

It was the heart of Ichi-gō Sakusen, "Operation Number One". The first formal military operation by the Empire of Japan in generations, and the first authorized by the reconstituted (and barely hours old) Imperial General Headquarters (IGHQ). The goal of the operation was simple—preserve the government of Anahuac, crush the Kurosite rebellion, and make the Central American state totally conducive to the economic and political interests of the Empire of Japan.

It was the Combined Fleet, 聯合艦隊 Rengō Kantai.

It contained a sizeable portion of the Imperial Japanese Navy’s strength. The flagship of the Combined Fleet was the flagship of the Imperial Japanese Navy itself, the IJS Izumo, one of the world’s newest and most advanced light carriers. With her sailed the helicopter carrier IJS Ise and the helicopter destroyer IJS Kurama. With them sailed the Ōsumi-class landing ships IJS Kunisake, IJS Tangachiya, and IJS Tsuruhara, bearing the entirety of the 51st Light Infantry Regiment and 15th Logistic Support Battalion of the Imperial Japanese Army’s 15th Brigade—some four thousand soldiers. The fleet was guarded by two guided-missile destroyers, four Murasame-class heavy destroyers, three Asagiri-class frigates, and two Abukuma-class destroyer escorts. The fleet was supported by three minesweepers and two Hiuchi-class training support ships; it was fueled by the Towada-class oilers IJS Tokiwa, IJS Hamana and the IJS Todai. Several attack submarines preceded it into the Western Pacific.

It was the largest single long-endurance naval deployment in the history of Japan. It had firepower enough to take on any conventional surface fleet, or to gain control of a sizeable portion of a country.

It was sailing at full-steam for Anahuac.

General Tenoch, dead or alive, had not known perhaps just how committed the Japanese were to the situation in Anahuac.

It was a fleet meant for nothing less than absolute and total war.

[Iansisle]

San Diego

The halls of the Californian Parliament were built after the uprising on the remains of the old Roman fort which had protected the Church's mission, even though the mission had been moved some years past a few miles down the canyon. At first, the presidio had served as the seat of government, but the association with harsh reprisals for uprisings and public executions of disobedient slaves proved too vivid and the presidio itself was torn down in 1812. It was replaced with what little money the tiny young republic could scrape together with a rambling red-brick Georgian hall designed by a famous English architect.

The new building itself fell out of favor during the Green administration of the 1960s, when it was seen as completely wasteful and inefficient. The new halls were torn down in 1961, with Parliament sitting instead in a hall of the convention center for three years while a new glass-and-steel three story complex was built in its place, using all the then-newest energy and water conservation techniques. The private cabinet offices on the third floor look to the west, over the groves of pepper trees outside, offering spacious views of the surrounding neighborhoods, Mission Bay, and ultimately the Pacific Ocean.

Prime Minister Alberto Padrigo gripped the side of a white cabinet as he stared into the late afternoon sun over the ocean. Nine thousand kilometers out that way was Japan, and he could be damned if he could figure out Tokyo's intent. Despite the apparent assassination of General Tenoch, they appeared to be pressing on with their intention to supply the government of Anahuac with military supplies, in direct defiance of Californian requests. He turned away from the window and back to the conference room, where several Air Force generals and a Navy admiral sat in some discomfiture, tablets and papers strewn about the table before them.

“If I may, Prime Minister?” said a young staff officer by the door. Padrigo nodded and the officer pressed a button on the wall. The window immediately became almost opaque, while the florescent lights in the office blinked on. The light conditions were much more muted now, darker – more appropriate to the discussion they were having. The military men and women visibly relaxed as the outside was shut off, as if they had been worried that some para-sailer out on the bay would have been taking notes through the window on their secret meeting.

Padrigo took his seat between his defense minister and intelligence minister and picked up a tablet before him. “And what am I looking at here, General?”

“Ah, yes,” said General Saldías, fiddling with a control panel on his side of the table. “If the Prime Minister would be so good as to put it on the board?”

Padrigo stared at the tablet for a moment, trying to figure out what on Earth that meant, before his defense minister, managing to keep from rolling her eyes, leaned over, tapped the screen, and pushed the big green button. The white table exploded in colors as it loaded a satellite picture of an airfield.

General Saldías stood up, withdrawing a laser pointer from his pocket. “Here,” he said, marking the spot with a green point before moving it twice. “Here and here. This is where one of our recon sats picked up evidence of high-grade military equipment, including armed drones, being loaded into Japanese C-1 and C-2 airlifters. These images are about an hour and a half old, so we have to assume that the planes themselves have lifted off, presumably destined for Anahuac.”

“Do we have evidence of that, general?”

“None direct, but plenty of circumstantial. Their references to Anahuac joining the trade organization, statements made by General Tenoch before he was shot, and so forth.”

“What I don't understand,” said Minister of Defense Lange, leaning forward in her seat to examine the image. “This is a Kawasaki C-1 here, isn't it general?

“Yes, ma'am.”

“They're broadly similar to our own Tormenta, are they not?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“And the Tormenta has a one-way range of – what? – four thousand kilometers?”

“Running it full, about that, ma'am. We could ferry it five or six thousand kilometers in a pinch, running it empty. No, Madame Minister, I can see what you're getting at. If the Prime Minister would be so good as to access the next image?”

There was another uncomfortable pause as Padrigo stared at the device in his hands. Lange reached over again and swiped the screen to the left, revealing a map of the Pacific Ocean. The major countries of the region were marked, along with dotted lines representing possible air routes from the observed Japanese air bases to the commandeered airport near Anahuac City.

“Assuming that they use the most direct air route, the C-1s would run out of fuel and crash into the sea – about here.” The general's green laser pointer had its dot along the northern-most route, rather to the left of center in the Pacific. “The C-2 has somewhat greater endurance, we believe – about six thousand kilometers endurance – which would put them crashing about here.” The dot was now along the northern air route, about a thousand kilometers west of San Fransisco.

“Is it possible that the Japanese aircraft possess greater range than we give them credit for, general?” asked Padrigo.

“It is always possible – but we would have had to underestimate their range by an enormous factor.”

“I can't help but notice where that line passes,” said the Foreign Minister, pointing near its western terminus.

“Ah, yes. The most direct route does take them directly over Californian air space for close to a thousand kilometers,” said General Saldías. “In fact, it would taken them almost directly over San Diego.”

At that, Padrigo looked up at the ceiling, almost as if he expected to see Japanese cargo planes flying past the fluorescent lights.

“Obviously, in that case,” the general said, “we would be able to force them down at one of our airfields, inspect their cargo, and turn them back – we would be well within our rights. That is why I went ahead and plotted these two lines here.” His green light indicated the southern routes. “Our staff believes these are the most practical ways to go that avoids penetrating Californian airspace. Both add about two thousand kilometers to the overall trip. It's all academic, of course, since the Japanese do not appear to possess a cargo hauler capable of the shortest route even.”

“The western route?” said Padrigo. “Anahuac does have two coasts.”

“Unlikely. It would involve refueling at airbases belonging to Walmington on Sea, Amerique or the Roman Empire.”

“And it's most probable that none of those powers would be willing to accommodate the Japanese,” said the Foreign Minister. “Our embassies are putting gentle pressure on them, asking for commitments to deescalate the crisis in Anahuac. Tenoch, despite his overtures, was not enormously popular in Great Walmington or Ballyston.”

“And now he's dead,” said Padrigo. “Probably.”

“But I doubt it will seriously impact the foreign relations of the military junta in Anahuac City,” said the Foreign Minister.

“Let's assume that the Japanese do possess the ability to airlift directly to Anahuac,” said Padrigo. “What options do we have.”

General Saldías looked over at the young Air Force staff officer who had been standing near the door.

“Ah, yes, Prime Minister,” he said. “Our responses. The planning office has taken the liberty of sketching out two responses, one primarily diplomatic and the other primarily military.” He tapped some buttons on his own tablet and synched up the table to it. “If you'll permit me --”

The young staff officer then launched into an explanation of Response A and Response B, each meticulously worked out with graphs, charts, and maps.

'A' centered around a blockade of Anahuac (and, by extension, the west coast of the Gulf States), initially supported by forces stationed at FAC Los Cabos in southern Baja California. Currently stationed there was a squadron of CATs multirole fighters, eight Taberna replenishment aircraft, five Virgo maritime patrol aircraft, and two Vaquero aerial command-and-control aircraft. The plan was to establish a line of patrol aircraft, initially manned by the Vaquero and Virgo aircraft to be supplemented by Voluntario VANTS once they became available, to spot Japanese aircraft inbound from the west. Once discovered, hopefully one or two thousand kilometers from Anahuac, they could be intercepted by CATs from Los Cabos and forced to land at that airbase. The airplanes could then be searched and, in the absence of military contraband, released.

“And if they refuse to put down at Los Cabos?” said Padrigo. “If they hold on course for Anahuac?”

“Well, Prime Minister, you'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

'B' was the more aggressive of the two responses. In addition to the aerial blockade, Response B advised a strike from five of the country's Bandido bombers, crossing into Anahuac at night and dropping more than a hundred thousand kilos of high explosive on that country, with satellites guiding the bombs towards key air defense hardpoints and major government supply dumps. This would be followed up with the creation of a temporary air base in north-western Zion from which Californian fighters could enforce a no-fly zone over all of Anahuac and carry out drone strikes in support of the rebels.

“And the cost of all this?” said Padrigo. He blanched with the number came up. “That's an awful lot to spend with elections a week away.”

“We're talking about the defense of the country,” said General Saldías.

“I'm not ready to start dropping bombs on Mesoamerica 'in defense of the country,'” said Padrigo. “We will institute the blockade for now, and nothing else.” He stretched and looked towards the opaque window. The light behind it was much more red – the sun must be setting. “If you'll see to the orders, general, I will make an announcement of our continuing commitment to keeping arms out of the hands of military government with genocidal agendas in our backyard.”

[Nova Gaul]

Several hundred nautical miles off the California Coast*

Two Japanese aircraft, both Mitsubishi International Jets or M-100’s, were zipping along at a comfortable 11,000 meters and at a respectable 850 kilometers per hour. The first, several hundred kilometers ahead on the grueling Transpacific flight path, was Japan Airlines Flight 12, the Tokyo based airline’s daily nonstop flight from Rising Sun to dark green (now bright red) Anahuac. There was a good deal of civilian traffic between the two nations, and with Anahuac’s entry into the Pacific Trade Organization, despite its inauspicious beginnings, those non-stop flights were booked to a seat.

The second aircraft was an Imperial Japanese Army Air Force flight, also a M-100, slightly modified, but outwardly indistinguishable from the leading jet save for its military decals and block-gray color—the JAL aircraft was sparkling white with a red crane emblazoned on the vertical stabilizer. It was carrying some 73 troops of the training company of the 51st Regiment, 15th Brigade (all armed to the teeth) and 8 unmanned aerial vehicle operators attached to the IJAAF; in its enlarged cargo hold was a Kawasaki KAQ-1 combat drone and a few dozen Type 93 air-to-surface missiles.

Both aircraft were cruising along to Anahuac City, well over international waters and well into international airspace.

According to schedule, the aircraft were scheduled to touch down at their destination just shy of three hours thence.

Given that several previous IJAAF transport flights had successfully landed in Anahuac, disgorged their cargo, and returned, and that no Japanese civilian airliner had encountered problems save for minor turbulence on the Transpacific crossing, no difficulties were anticipated.

Sydney, Chrinthanium**

In the past few weeks uncharacteristically vocal outbursts from Chrinthanium and its government had taken the demure Japanese and their government completely by surprise. First came ridicule over the Pacific Trade Organization and now came blatant threats over Japan’s move to secure an ailing allies position.

The fact of the matter was the Chrinthani ultimatum had absolutely shocked the Japanese.

On the one hand, they had to meet the Chrinthani Emperor’s demand for a conference, on the other, they could not act too quickly or subserviently without losing face. And keeping one’s honor and image in tact was everything to the Yamato people: whether in politics, business, sports, or any other type of relationship.

And so hours passed without so much as a peep from the Japanese ambassador in Sydney after the emperor’s declaration. In fact, twenty-three hours passed. Then, as the deadline for the ultimatum neared uncomfortably close, the Prime Minister of Japan himself placed a phone call directly to Emperor Nathaniel.

Hiranuma Kiichirō began the conversation in a polite and apologetic tone, explaining “at the moment Your Highness my government is dealing with the largest crisis my nation has encountered in over fifty years.” He furthermore, in his prologue, declared that the “Empire of Japan has no aggressive intent toward its Pacific neighbors, none whatsoever, and that maintaining the decades-long goodwill between our two great states is one of my primary and continuing tasks.”

Speaking strictly off the record, on a line that was confirmed as secure, the Prime Minister revealed to the emperor that he was currently dealing with an extremely fragmented government ‘in an exhausting balancing act’ and that the Diet’s recently passed ‘SLORCA’ represented a compromise between the various factions holding power within the Empire. That said, he further revealed that he felt confident that, given his ability to continue his administration, he would be able to negate by legislation the act’s more controversial measures: namely naval enlargement vis-à-vis mothballed fleet restoration and new carrier construction.

Then the conversation would no doubt become more difficult.

Japan, Kiichirō explained, had seriously interests invested in Anahuac. Firstly, over a thousand Japanese citizens resided there, a residence that in present circumstances was imperiled by a virulent uprising of a radical Kurosite army. Secondly, the fact of the matter was that the Empire had billions of Yen invested in the Central American state “even more so since Anahuac elected to join the PTO.” For these reasons, as well as the fact that Anahuac had been a strategic partner and was now a formal ally of the Japan, “intervention in preventing this rebellion from catapulting Anahuac into chaos is unavoidable. We must defend our citizens and protect our assets.”

Did, the Prime Minister asked politely, the emperor really wish to see a radical, communist revolution succeed in Anahuac? That was the only alternative if Japan took no action, besides the fact that hundreds of Japanese might be summarily murdered. Of course, Baron Hiranuma acknowledged that Anahuac’s government was flawed but he felt confident that the state’s entrance into the Pacific Trade Organization would both allow “in a fairly short period” for free elections and for economic stabilization.

The heart of the problem, as the Prime Minister saw it, was that the more nationalistic elements within the Empire, namely the powerful military and its zaibatsu allies, felt that foreign powers were trying to prevent Japan from executing its sovereign ability to engage in free trade and alliances, and it was for this reason that the ‘powers that be’ had forced SLORCA upon him.

“I entreat Your Highness to recognize that the Empire of Japan has a right to trade with its allies and to succor the governments, the legitimate governments, of its partners,” he concluded earnestly. “If the Empire of Chrinthanium will recognize this central fact, then I promise you, without delay, a discussion of what items your government wishes to see addressed regarding Japan’s perceived militarization. Moreover, if you recognize this fact, I can promise a comprehensive treaty between our states that will preclude for the future any danger of militarization of destabilization.” The tone turned ominous: “If Your Highness insists on dictating foreign policy, non-aggressive foreign policy at that but only internal assistance to a standing government, I do not know if I will be able to reserve the desire of some in Japan to pursue more militant options that could guarantee my nation’s future. Frankly, Emperor Nathaniel, if we cannot reach some amicable agreement, I do not know if I myself will be able to long maintain my administration.”

*I am not trying to double post here my friends, just streamline a retcon. After some discussion I realized that it was impracticable to use Japanese military transports as they were used in the previous post, and so that has been edited. Additionally, Ian’s RP meets my own, so that is where I am continuing here. Just a note for you all, apologies for any confusion, try as I might technical specifications are an ongoing struggle for me. Thanks for your understanding.

**Similarly, this is a response to Chrin and not a double post. I didn’t think I could answer his post properly on the news forum, as it might have a bit of RP involved, but I didn’t think a whole new thread was appropriate. TCB, sorry if it seems like I am spamming/hijacking this thread. Not my intent good sir!

[Iansisle]

The Eastern Pacific Ocean

Air Force intelligence had tracked the military M-100 since its loading and takeoff many hours previously, and its arrival had been anticipated to within an hour. The aircraft was first detected by a loitering Vaquero airborne command and control craft, which was somewhat surprised to find two potential targets where estimates anticipated one. The possibility of it being a purely commercial flight were quickly discussed and dismissed – after all, civilian flights from Japan to Anahuac would most likely have used the more direct route over California to save on jet fuel and shorten the trip for weary passengers.

The two airliners were plotted onboard the Vaquero while still about two thousand kilometers north-west of Cabo San Lucas, flying down the Pacific coast of Baja California, although still well out in international waters. The Vaquero abandonded its original holding pattern and vectored south-east, following along the flight plan of the targets while it reported the sighting back to FAC Los Cabos. Two ready CATs took off to intercept the first airliner, while two more were hastily prepared and left to intercept the second. A pair of Taberna aerial replenishment planes also took to the air, lumbering into the sky in the wake of the CATs and sluggishly following them.

The Crótalo de Ataque a Tierra is, strictly speaking, not an ideal interceptor. They were stationed at FAC Los Cabos as part of the Air Force's maritime defense of Baja California, intended to be a first response to Gulf States aggression from across the Gulf or other naval threats. Still, with a maximum speed of Mach 2.5, a 1,200 kilometer combat radius, and full integration with California's advanced air-to-air ordnance, interception was a role the heavy fighter-bomber could play while the muck-a-mucks in San Diego debated whether or not to deploy an aircraft more specifically designed for the job.

In this case, the CATs needed nothing like their maximum speed and, following the Vaquero's instructions, the first pair intercepted the civilian M-100 while it was still more than 2,500 kilometers from its destination, roughly on the same latitude as Gurrero Negro. The CATs circled wide around the airliner, settling into a tailing position while the Vaquero made contact. The voice which came over the radio spoke perfect Japanese, used the correct honorifics, and informed the pilot that, unfortunately, due to the crisis in Anahuac, they would be forced to put down at FAC Los Cabos for inspection before they could complete their flight

[Nova Gaul]

The Eastern Pacific Ocean

Passengers aboard Japan Airlines Flight 12, with non-stop service from Tokyo-Narita to Anahuac City, were just beginning to stir as a crisis was brewing in the skies outside. It was a fortunate policy, then, that all JAL long-haul flights went ‘blackout’, that is to say with their window screens drawn in-flight, to be opened only upon take-off and landing. The policy was designed to reduce jetlag, and this morning it saved passengers anxieties of another sort.

First class passengers were just being served their luxurious Sou Chousoku breakfast, constituted by a dozen delicacies from across the Home Islands, while those in business “Executive Four Seasons” breakfasted on a Valendian inspired menu of crepes and jams; the proles riding steerage got oyako donburi with a perfunctory smile. And while the graceful stewardesses made their rounds effortlessly, veterans of innumerable voyages, there was controlled chaos in the cockpit.

The captain and his co-pilot, the former a seasoned airliner and Imperial Japanese Army Air Force veteran (as a disproportionate number of captains were) and the latter a greenhorn who just passed thirty, almost felt their white gloved hands tremble as the ominous message came in on the radio from a source in California. The pendulous mood was heightened when two California Air Force CATs circled the JAL M-100 and then settled, in perfect attack position, to either side of the commercial airline’s rear.

The radio message was in Japanese, and was formally polite, but its message was shocking:

… put down at FAC Los Cabos for inspection….

“Captain?” queried the co-pilot with a glance over. “Have you ever heard of a request of this type before?”

“Hell no,’ grunted the steely, white haired pilot. He acknowledged the Californian transmission before engaging several protocols. The first was to open a channel directly with Flight Control at Tokyo-Narita, the second was to alert the following military M-100—a fellow Japanese aircraft—of the situation, and the third was to take out a little red book with the title Emergency Procedures Guide. Once opened a little piece of tape on the manual snapped, so the airline’s bean counters would know if there had ever been a situation.

Grunting and cursing softly, interchangeably, the captain flipped through a few pages with large print. He then snapped it closed and snapped on the radio.

“California aircraft, this is Japan Airlines Flight 12. We are currently on a flight path in international airspace, over international waters, bearing 366 passengers and 14 crew to Anahuac City. According to Japanese national commercial air traffic regulations, under these circumstances, we will not accept any order to set down aside from our designated port of landing.” He silenced the radio for a moment with a flick of the wrist.

“Captain—surely the…prudent…course…” the tenderfoot co-pilot struggled for words. In Japanese society one never criticized a superior’s decisions, even indirectly (‘Oh captain, doesn’t the snow on that mountain ahead look pretty?’, for example). His presumption earned an appropriate rebuke from the captain.

“Shut up.”

It was an interesting fact, one lost on the stalwart flight captain at that present moment, that as opposed to many airlines Japan Airlines had its flight paths charted by higher ups at Flight Control and not the actual flight officers themselves. Had he been a more questioning sort of fellow he might have wondered why Japan Airlines had modified all flight paths to Anahuac following the empire’s entrance into the Mesoamerican crisis. As it was, he didn’t. He flicked the radio back on.

“California aircraft, if you wish me to deviate from my present route in any way, whether you wish me to alter my course or to land prematurely, I will need direct authorization from the Japanese Aeronautical Administration. Allow me to repeat: we are in international airspace and not subject to your jurisdiction, however solicitous your intentions might be. Thank you for your concern.

“Good morning.”

With that he snapped the radio off.

The co-pilot was sweating profusely. He did, to his credit as a Yamato, manage to keep his lip from trembling.

The captain stared grimly ahead before switching on the aircraft’s public announcement system…

“Ladies and gentlemen, champagne and orange juice will be served this morning, compliments of Japan Airlines. We expect to land in Anahuac City ten minutes ahead of schedule, and no turbulence is expected. Thank you again for flying Japan Airlines.”

[Iansisle]

The Eastern Pacific Ocean

Some difficulty had been anticipated in dealing with stubborn Japanese pilots, especially since they were widely expected to be hauling military contraband against California's explicit and often-expressed wishes. Japan Airlines Flight 12 would have to expect a bit further pressure, despite its obviously civilian markings and protestations.

“Apologies,” said the voice over the radio, again in flawless Japanese. Californians are nothing if not multilingual. “But I'm afraid our orders come from the highest levels of our government and are utterly incontrovertible. You will have to put down at FAC Los Cabos and surrender to a search for military contraband.”

While he spoke, the starboard flanking CAT was slowly moving up the airliner's side.

“If none is found,” the voice continued, “our government is willing to completely refuel your aircraft and completely compensate your company and passengers for any time lost. Think on that: with the price of aviation fuel today, can you really refuse such an offer?”

The starboard CAT was now slightly ahead of JA12, about five hundred meters off. All hoped – but most did not expect – that the airline pilot would simply take the offer.

“That is the carrot we offer to you,” the voice said if the offer was refused, perhaps using a different metaphor more appropriate to the language he was speaking in. “There is always a stick as well.”

Within just a minute of that transmission, the starboard CAT banked suddenly, screaming across the jetliner's nose at full afterburner, inverting its belly to allow the Japanese pilots a full view of the array of air-to-air missiles (and drop tanks) underslung on its belly.

[Nova Gaul]

The Eastern Pacific Ocean

The rather harsh metaphor of the carrot and the stick was not lost in translation to the flight crew of Japan Airlines FL0012. Nonetheless, having said his piece as duty required him, the captain returned no further communications to the California Airforce fighters nearby or, more appropriately, the Vaquero off away whence the transmission came. The captain did consult his little red emergency manual, however, when the Crótalo de Ataque a Tierra hit its afterburners and assumed a threatening posture to the fore of the M-100.

At that point, given that he had two armed and presumably hostile foreign aircraft in attack positions to the fore and aft of the vessel, in international airspace, according to protocol, he issued a Mayday signal. The signal would be received by many sources, probably, some Japanese and some otherwise. Certainly, so close to the United Gulf States, authorities there would receive the alert, as would the militarily modified M-100 to FL0012’s rear and Flight Control in Tokyo far away. Perhaps even some sources to Zion in the far south would receive the broadcast.

The screeching of the CAT’s afterburners also jolted the passengers of Japan Airlines Flight 12 from their morning repast and, breaking all the rules, up the window visors went. In a moment of comic irony, however, many of the passengers onboard (who it must be remembered were not just salarymen but women and children), with cries of すごい, sugoi, or ‘wow’, snapped photos of the California military aircraft and texted or ‘picted’ them away on the popular Japanese social application Line. One included the caption Wow, the Californias are giving us a playful hello this morning! followed by an adorable emoticon of a rabbit creature with an aviator’s badge on its furry chest. In the time it took for the animated rabbit to shake its tail, the pictures were going viral across the Japanese networking sphere.

Most passengers of course had no idea of the danger they were in fact in, given that Japan had had no military conflict in generations and had never come to blows with California, which they regarded as a sort of climate-pleasant backwater.

The stewardesses were rather more concerned, knowing this to be an extraordinary and perilous situation, and so they partook themselves of the champagne and orange juice which the captain had ordered to flow so freely.

In the rear of the aircraft, in the economy class, an aged Buddhist monk began to chant sutras from the Pure Land (the most popular form of Buddhism practiced in Japan) texts that petitioned the Western Pure Land in which the Buddha Amitabha resides. He chanted the forty-eight vows made by Amitabha as a bodhisattva by which he undertook to build a Pure Land where beings are able to practice the Dharma without difficulty or distraction. The sutras as the monk chanted them out prayed that beings (specifically those aboard Flight 12) might be reborn there by pure conduct and by practices such as thinking continuously of Amitabha, praising him, recounting his virtues, and chanting his name.

On the flight deck the pilot and co-pilot continued on their vector, not altering their course by one degree nor making so much as a movement following the dispatch of the Mayday signal.

[Iansisle]

The mayday would not be the only warning that the trailing M-100 would get. The second pair of CATs taking off from Los Cabos was only ten minutes behind its companions, and it was not too long after the broadcast of the mayday that they arrived, zooming past the modified airliner (and noting its military markings). They would follow roughly the same procedure and, likely, get exactly the same response.

Back in San Diego, the intransigent, suicidal attitude of the Japanese pilots was starting to wear on Prime Minister Padrigo and his cabinet and military advisers, who were crammed into the third-floor situation room, watching the live map on the table. The two airliners were marked in bright, angry red, while the various Californian planes sent to intercept were green. The red lights were getting closer and closer to the tip of Baja California without any indication of slowing down or changing course towards FAC Los Cabos. Also marked on the map was a small orange line – the point of no return, a few hundred kilometers east of Cabo San Lucas. The time when a decision would have to be made.

There was broad consensus amongst the assembled politicians that JA12 was, in fact, a civilian airliner on a broadly peaceful mission, despite its anomalous flight path. Ironically, if the controllers in Tokyo had simply allowed their plane to fly its typical, shorter route over California, it would have likely raised no alarm bells and not endangered is passengers and crews. There was also broad consensus that the second plane, as seen from recon photos on an air base in Japan, was hauling contraband in direct defiance of the repeated Californian warnings.

The military men and women, on the other hand, stressed the possibility that JA12 HAD been loaded, below the passenger cabins with contraband. The apparent unflinching regard for death that every Japanese civilian pilot had reinforced this message somewhat. So, so JA12 approached the point of no return, the decision was made to shoot down the trailing airliner, assuming that it had not responded favorably by actions or words the to demands to land at FAC Los Cabos. The order was executed almost immediately, with a Colibrí short-range missile. Shortly there after, one of the CATs that had been tailing the military plane launched a Cóndor long-range missile from about two hundred and eighty kilometers at JA12. Even at mach 5, it would take almost three minutes for the missile to close.

“Strange to think on the inevitability of death,” broadcast the negotiator as the missile closed, perhaps talking to thin air. “One second, you are a man with a family, with children and a beautiful wife and loving parents. Then next, one stupid decision can ruin everything. Your wife moves on, your children grow up with a new father – one they hope will never leave them.”

“It has been a pleasure talking with you. Goodbye.”

Communication shut off with two minutes still to run in the missiles course, and the two flanking CATs broke off.

[The United Gulf States]

Times of Fredonia

Brawl in Parliament

Ministers came to blows over-night as a special session of Parliament degenerated following the Speaker's rebuke of MP Joki Hughes for unparliamentary language.

Prime Minister Adam Ravenshaw took the unusual step of calling Ministers back to the house in light of the President's worsening condition, along with the escalation of the Communist rebellion in Anahuac, arrival of Japanese forces, the on-going drama of a Californian interception of Japanese aircraft, and the shooting of General Tenoch.

Matters took a turn for the worse as tired representatives exchanged increasingly snide remarks across the aisle and soon amongst their own benches. The opposition MP representing Fort Waters received a caution from the Speaker's chair after levelling an accusation of treachery at a group of his fellow Constitution Party MPs relating to their proposal of a new social category recognising the Japanese as a race apart from the 'Black', 'Indian', and the other 'Asian' peoples amongst whom they are presently categorised under Federal law.

The contention of Mr. Manuel Redfern, Member for troubled St. Mary West, it seems, is that the Japanese are, in his own words, “if nothing else, ambitious, and so unlike the other lower races in spite of their dubious reckoning and obvious physical frailty.”

- - - - - - -

”Jeeezus Holy Christ, boy! Who told you to bring that with you?”

Captain Marshall snatched a broadsheet newspaper from the hands of Pvt. Alty, a sapper with the Indigenous Battalion.

”You need to know what I tell you! The enemy does not need to know that a semi-literate savage came through here after you wipe your behind with this!” He shrieked, balling-up the paper while obliging Alty to scratch out a hole in which to bury it, before embarking on a new lecture about disguising the disturbed earth.

In truth, Alty didn't need to be told. He was, after all, another part of the Federacy's most elite fighting force, which was precisely why he'd been deployed 'south of the border' and into Anahuac. His martial skills couldn't be doubted: the Indigenous Battalion was better funded than any one single Royal Marines Commando, and had low-intensity combat experience across tens of thousands of square kilometres of varied terrain and climate, through several decades. Over his ballistically-armored back, Alty carried an Adaptive Combat Rifle with which he was a great deal more than proficient, and the officer's lesson in avoiding detection prompted hardly more than an involuntary eye-roll from the young warrior.

I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to...

Soon, they moved on. 12.Commando, Indigenous Battalion, 90 men sent on foot to conduct close-reconnaissance of known or suspected Kurosite operational hubs in [Hidalgo]. They swapped back and forth, patrolling in full combat gear and dumping it at temporary base-camps before sauntering out in civvies, aesthetically and linguistically Nahua as you like, to casually gather more local intelligence.

Acting with a traditional Gulfer disregard for Anahuac sovereignty, they stalked perceived enemies of many colors: Kurosites, of course, and SPP sorts as well, but also any Japanese operatives, or Californians present in their ever migratory field of regard. Fredonia had unleashed its most skilled and deadly assets with a wide-ranging mandate to eliminate threats to contemporary Federate policy. 9 white men and 81 natives.

I'll come following you...

”General Stations!” sounds across Federate Air Force Bases in the West as fighters scramble to establish CAP 'at the fringes of agreed airspace'

Following a succession of confusing and conflicting messages from Californian and Japanese media, and based on intelligence intercepts processed by the Federacy's security forces, Phantom and Falcon forces throughout western reaches of the Federacy and her Protectorates have received scramble orders...

[Iansisle]

San Diego

“One hundred fifty kilometers – sixty-five seconds.”

Prime Minister Alberto Padrigo drummed his fingers insistently on the table, disrupting the image around his edge slightly. Nobody in the room noticed; all eyes were fixed on the rapidly slipping range figure between the Cóndor missile and the Japanese airliner.

“Any communication yet?” said Padrigo, looking over at an Air Force officer with a microphone at his throat.

“Shoebox, this is command. What's the word?”

He listened for a moment and then shook his head at the Prime Minister. “Not a peep from the target, sir.”

“One hundred kilometers.”

“Fucking robot,” said Padrigo. He looked over at his foreign minister. “That's what they have in Japan, right, Tony? Fucking robots that run everything.”

“Uh, I could look it up --”

“Don't be stupid.” Padrigo picked up a tablet sitting next to him that held a picture of JA12, taken by an underslung camera mounted on one of the intercepting CATs. “At this point, I'd like to blow the asshole out of the sky just to make a point about not fucking around with a hundred lives.”

“A hundred and fifty, sir.”

“How much longer?”

“Thirty-seven seconds, sir.”

The war council watched the screen in silence as the time clicked down. Then, with the missile still more than thirty kilometers behind JA12, the timer reached zero. The little green light representing the Cóndor ceased its overtake of the airliner, then slowed to almost stationary.

“Confirmed,” said the officer with the headset, a hand to his ear. “Prime Minster, Shoebox reports that the Cóndor has exhausted its fuel and is now in a ballistic free-fall.”

“The airliner?”

“Should be crossing into Anahuac's airspace in the next hour.”

“That's a wrap.” Padrigo stood. He looked over at the officer one last time. “You'd better self-destruct that missile before it hits the water. The Greens are already going to throw a fit – we can't blow up some fucking gray whale on accident too.”


Within an hour after the incident, broadcast media of all sorts across the Republic were interrupted for a message from the Prime Minister. The story had already well broken, between early reports from Japanese sources and leaks from within the Air Force. Those watching on television or via webcast were treated to Alberto Padrigo's jowled fact, framed by a balding head of white hair. He wore brass-rimmed specticles and spent the broadcast reading from a sheet of paper in front of him. The address was in Spanish, the language Padrigo had used for his entire political career.

“Good morning,” he said. “Earlier today, Californian fighter aircraft from the Second Naval Interdiction Squadron based at FAC Los Cabos intercepted two Japanese flights off the coast of Baja bound for Anahuac. Our intelligence sources indicate that these flights were carrying heavy military weapons to the minority rule military government there. As you know, it has been Californian policy repeatedly declared since the 1960s to prevent the transfer of advanced weaponry to the genocidal governments of Anahuac and the Gulf States. Japan has respected this policy for fifty years. Now, under a more ruthless and militarized leader, they are seeking to overturn it. He thinks that our Republic cannot rise to the challenge; he thinks that our threats are empty.

“The two flights this morning were asked to divert to a Californian air base for inspection, with the offer of full compensation for any inconvenience. Both refused, likely on the orders of their military leaders to test our confidence. One flight, a civilian airliner, was allowed to pass unmolested. The other, a military transport, was shot down. We greatly regret the loss of life and seek to work with the government of Japan to try and make things right with the families of those involved.

“However, Prime Minister Kiichirō should not mistake this regret for a lack of conviction. We are watching. Further military flights to Anahuac will be intercepted. If they refuse to put down for inspection, they will be destroyed. Civilian flights are encouraged to stick to established air transit corridors so as to minimize confusion and prevent tragic accidents like the one that almost occurred today.

“Let me say this to Japan and all those states who would test California. You are wrong. Your bluff has been called. You must take the first steps, but together we can walk back from the brink and into the sunlight.

“Thank you.”

After the Prime Minister's address, the Air Force press liaison officer was subjected to a barrage of questions from a packed press room.

“Early Japanese reports claim that two airplanes were shot down,” shouts one reporter from the back of the room. “But the Prime Minister claimed only one. Care to comment?”

“Yes, thank you Mark. That Japanese claim first manifested while the interception was still in progress. It appears to be wishful thinking on their part.”

After a series of shuffling and shouting, another question made it to the podium.

“Wishful thinking? Aren't you being a little glib about the death of four hundred people?”

“I only wish that I was, Jessica. But here's the facts: Japan Airlines Flight 12 was specially diverted from the usual, more direct air route used by transpacific airliners. Its captain, possibly a military pilot brought in for this particular flight, repeatedly and rudely refused all attempts at communication and negotiation. The arrival of a military transport that Japan must have known we would try to intercept, since it pointedly avoided our airspace, coincided almost immediately with that of JA12 on an 11,500 kilometer trip. All this points to me that the government of Japan was hoping we would shoot them down. I only hope that after we failed to comply with this wish, the government of Japan did not down the airliner themselves.”

“Are you accusing the Japanese government of shooting their own citizens?”

“Not at all. Indeed, I truly hope they didn't. I only know that 'saving face' is a major cultural touchstone in Japan.”

“The two Japanese airliners were operating well out to sea, in international waters. How does the Air Force justify this interception?”

“This is a case of our national security, Cassie. We had to act.”

“There are reports of Gulf States aircraft being scrambled to the borders. If they decide that bombing a small town in the Transnevada is 'a case of national security' does that mean that intercepting Californian aircraft would have to let them?”

“Don't be absurd. There's no parallels in that example.”

“You mentioned evidence of contraband on those flights. Will the Air Force be presenting that evidence, or do we have to take it on faith?”

“Satellite pictures of the loading process along with slightly redacted transcripts of the wireless transmissions between our aircraft and the Japanese flights will be made publicly available on the Air Force's website within the hour. We will also be making available to interested governments some of the radar reports tracking JA Flight 12 leaving our sphere of detection completely whole.”

“Is the Republic worried about international backlash?”

“Not at all. We welcome international oversight.”

“Are there going to be any repercussions for the elections at the end of the week?”

“I told you, Ben, I'm not answering domestic political questions. Next, please.”

[Iansisle]

((ooc: sorry for the double post. I wanted to include this in my initial post but ran out of time before work.))

FAC Los Cabos
North of San José del Cabo

The southern tip of Baja California had most benefited from the economic boom of the 1980s and 1990s. The population had exploded during that period with migration from both northern California and from abroad, resulting in a dynamic, multienthnic region. Strict mandated property reforms that came into effect shortly before the boom were enthusiastically followed during the rapid population expansion, resulting in one of the most racially and economically integrated areas in the entire country. Aerospace engineering, long present in the region due to the spaceport near Bahia Chileno, and tourism remained strong, while pharma and high tech made significant inroads during the 1980s.

The population of the Los Cabos region, now more than a million strong, was generally speaking wealthy, happy, and liberal even by Californian standards. As news broke about the interception of the Japanese aircraft by Air Force jets stationed in their backyards, they frowned their displeasure; as Japanese sources complained that an airliner had been amongst those shot down, the population of the Cape began to protest.

Within hours after the news broke, the crowd gathered before the Air Force MPs guarding the gate to FAC Los Cabos had grown into the thousands, who booed and hissed every aircraft taking off and landing at the base. Signs shouting 'Baby Killers!' and 'I am JA12' were waved furiously in the face of base personnel attempting to enter or leave, and transit was often only achieved with the help of law enforcement. Videos from cell phones of the protest were widely distributed and even as the traditional media outlets were rushing south on CalRail, similar protests began to break out at Air Force bases near major population centers.

FAC Miramar near San Diego, FAC Travis between San Fransisco and Sacramento and FAC Nellis near Las Vegas were particularly hard hit by protesters, while FAC Davis-Monthan near Tucson, perhaps because of the more conservative presidero population of the region, was relatively unaffected. Bases in more rural areas, such as FAC Edwards, were generally quiet.

For all the noise and thunder of the protest movement, there were prominent voices supporting the government as well. Most political pundits were surprised when Jenny Whitaker, the current leader of the opposition, announced that she supported the government in its decision and, had she been in power at the time, would have made the same decision as Prime Minister Padrigo.

With just days to go before the election on August 29th, the political situation in California remained confused, with a plurality of polled respondents refusing to name a party of choice when asked. Third parties, including the Bears, the Alvaros, and the Igovians, seemed to sense blood in the water and all for their own reasons attacked the shootdown decision.

[The Amyclae]

Zion's relative silence is something of an anomaly. But on reflection this silence is a natural extension of the country. Jewish history has departed from the history of the world. What interests the world no longer interests Zion because both are speaking a different language.

It is a small irony of history that Zion can be explained through the life of Pontius Pilate. When Pontius Pilate was asked to take down the sign above Christ’s head—‘King of the Jews’—he replied quod scripsi scripsi. What I have written I have written. There was no regret or elusion. But earlier Pilate had looked into the crowd and had washed his hands. Christ was neither his problem nor responsibility. It is a study of contrasts, who is the real Pilate? If he did not allow a single addition or elision then he is a man of towering certainty. If he abdicated his responsibility and washed his hands of the crowds’ decision then we come to the opposite conclusion. He seems to be a contradiction who has outlived all infamy.

A curious story by Anatole France, the French novelist, may well illustrate the problem. "Le procurerur de Judee" depicts Pontius Pilate, the Procurator of Judea who had sent Jesus Christ to death as an old man retired from public service and seeking relief of his ailments in a health-resort at the foot of Vesuvius. There he meets a friend, another Roman, who had been in Palestine with him. Reviving old memories, Pontius Pilate complains about the fierce character of the Jews who were ungovernable politically and utterly intolerant religiously and who had constantly petitioned him, in his capacity as governor, to put other Jews to death on religious grounds. While discussing this point, his friend mentions the name of one such victim, a Jesus of Nazareth, of whom he had heard vaguely when living in Jerusalem under Pilate's administration. Trying to recollect this particular case the ex-governor thinks hard for a while and then replies: "A Jesus of Nazareth? No,--no, I don't remember that one...."

What France, the author, is getting at is that Pilate is not part of modern history, not part of Christian history--two terms that are interchangeable. Thus he is written off as a contradiction, an anomaly, when he is perhaps neither. Similarly, what the world perceives as Zion's incongruities and contradictions is simply the result of inattentiveness. The world is exploding around the small, Central American republic. But in the world of twits and tweets, to comment on the rapidity of a modern crises is only to comment on the modern condition itself.

The request to join Japan's economic bloc is received, commented upon by a small menagerie of bureaucrats and quietly put away for a slower day. The country is currently beset by a national debate over the place of shabbat goy within the national boundaries but more objectively within the national conversation. Should they be 'capitalized' and turned into a service? Can they travel within the kibbutzim? If they're exploited, what can be done--what should be done? Does it make sense to talk about the exploitation of a class that chooses to help, but then where is the line between choosing and economic necessity? Such is life in the fractured politic of Zion.

The downing of two aircraft north, northwest of the country is received with ambivalence. Death is but another sunrise. The frank terror death takes from modernity is far out of proportion to the actual tribute it receives from the guns, germs and steel used by the many nations of the world. The situation is viewed as a regrettable accident, but one that will continue to happen as long as both nations' hubris extends far beyond their understanding. Yet the government has no official response, and calmly takes note of the fact that it cannot find any trace of Jewish blood in any of the passengers on the plane. Though Zion's records are questionable and fuzzy on that point.

Zion requests that both nations respect her sovereignty, both in the extended nautical buffer zone and airspace.

[Chrinthanium]

Several hundred nautical miles off the California Coast*

Two Japanese aircraft, both Mitsubishi International Jets or M-100’s, were zipping along at a comfortable 11,000 meters and at a respectable 850 kilometers per hour. The first, several hundred kilometers ahead on the grueling Transpacific flight path, was Japan Airlines Flight 12, the Tokyo based airline’s daily nonstop flight from Rising Sun to dark green (now bright red) Anahuac. There was a good deal of civilian traffic between the two nations, and with Anahuac’s entry into the Pacific Trade Organization, despite its inauspicious beginnings, those non-stop flights were booked to a seat.

The second aircraft was an Imperial Japanese Army Air Force flight, also a M-100, slightly modified, but outwardly indistinguishable from the leading jet save for its military decals and block-gray color—the JAL aircraft was sparkling white with a red crane emblazoned on the vertical stabilizer. It was carrying some 73 troops of the training company of the 51st Regiment, 15th Brigade (all armed to the teeth) and 8 unmanned aerial vehicle operators attached to the IJAAF; in its enlarged cargo hold was a Kawasaki KAQ-1 combat drone and a few dozen Type 93 air-to-surface missiles.

Both aircraft were cruising along to Anahuac City, well over international waters and well into international airspace.

According to schedule, the aircraft were scheduled to touch down at their destination just shy of three hours thence.

Given that several previous IJAAF transport flights had successfully landed in Anahuac, disgorged their cargo, and returned, and that no Japanese civilian airliner had encountered problems save for minor turbulence on the Transpacific crossing, no difficulties were anticipated.

Sydney, Chrinthanium**

In the past few weeks uncharacteristically vocal outbursts from Chrinthanium and its government had taken the demure Japanese and their government completely by surprise. First came ridicule over the Pacific Trade Organization and now came blatant threats over Japan’s move to secure an ailing allies position.

The fact of the matter was the Chrinthani ultimatum had absolutely shocked the Japanese.

On the one hand, they had to meet the Chrinthani Emperor’s demand for a conference, on the other, they could not act too quickly or subserviently without losing face. And keeping one’s honor and image in tact was everything to the Yamato people: whether in politics, business, sports, or any other type of relationship.

And so hours passed without so much as a peep from the Japanese ambassador in Sydney after the emperor’s declaration. In fact, twenty-three hours passed. Then, as the deadline for the ultimatum neared uncomfortably close, the Prime Minister of Japan himself placed a phone call directly to Emperor Nathaniel.

Hiranuma Kiichirō began the conversation in a polite and apologetic tone, explaining “at the moment Your Highness my government is dealing with the largest crisis my nation has encountered in over fifty years.” He furthermore, in his prologue, declared that the “Empire of Japan has no aggressive intent toward its Pacific neighbors, none whatsoever, and that maintaining the decades-long goodwill between our two great states is one of my primary and continuing tasks.”

Speaking strictly off the record, on a line that was confirmed as secure, the Prime Minister revealed to the emperor that he was currently dealing with an extremely fragmented government ‘in an exhausting balancing act’ and that the Diet’s recently passed ‘SLORCA’ represented a compromise between the various factions holding power within the Empire. That said, he further revealed that he felt confident that, given his ability to continue his administration, he would be able to negate by legislation the act’s more controversial measures: namely naval enlargement vis-à-vis mothballed fleet restoration and new carrier construction.

Then the conversation would no doubt become more difficult.

Japan, Kiichirō explained, had seriously interests invested in Anahuac. Firstly, over a thousand Japanese citizens resided there, a residence that in present circumstances was imperiled by a virulent uprising of a radical Kurosite army. Secondly, the fact of the matter was that the Empire had billions of Yen invested in the Central American state “even more so since Anahuac elected to join the PTO.” For these reasons, as well as the fact that Anahuac had been a strategic partner and was now a formal ally of the Japan, “intervention in preventing this rebellion from catapulting Anahuac into chaos is unavoidable. We must defend our citizens and protect our assets.”

Did, the Prime Minister asked politely, the emperor really wish to see a radical, communist revolution succeed in Anahuac? That was the only alternative if Japan took no action, besides the fact that hundreds of Japanese might be summarily murdered. Of course, Baron Hiranuma acknowledged that Anahuac’s government was flawed but he felt confident that the state’s entrance into the Pacific Trade Organization would both allow “in a fairly short period” for free elections and for economic stabilization.

The heart of the problem, as the Prime Minister saw it, was that the more nationalistic elements within the Empire, namely the powerful military and its zaibatsu allies, felt that foreign powers were trying to prevent Japan from executing its sovereign ability to engage in free trade and alliances, and it was for this reason that the ‘powers that be’ had forced SLORCA upon him.

“I entreat Your Highness to recognize that the Empire of Japan has a right to trade with its allies and to succor the governments, the legitimate governments, of its partners,” he concluded earnestly. “If the Empire of Chrinthanium will recognize this central fact, then I promise you, without delay, a discussion of what items your government wishes to see addressed regarding Japan’s perceived militarization. Moreover, if you recognize this fact, I can promise a comprehensive treaty between our states that will preclude for the future any danger of militarization of destabilization.” The tone turned ominous: “If Your Highness insists on dictating foreign policy, non-aggressive foreign policy at that but only internal assistance to a standing government, I do not know if I will be able to reserve the desire of some in Japan to pursue more militant options that could guarantee my nation’s future. Frankly, Emperor Nathaniel, if we cannot reach some amicable agreement, I do not know if I myself will be able to long maintain my administration.”

*I am not trying to double post here my friends, just streamline a retcon. After some discussion I realized that it was impracticable to use Japanese military transports as they were used in the previous post, and so that has been edited. Additionally, Ian’s RP meets my own, so that is where I am continuing here. Just a note for you all, apologies for any confusion, try as I might technical specifications are an ongoing struggle for me. Thanks for your understanding.

**Similarly, this is a response to Chrin and not a double post. I didn’t think I could answer his post properly on the news forum, as it might have a bit of RP involved, but I didn’t think a whole new thread was appropriate. TCB, sorry if it seems like I am spamming/hijacking this thread. Not my intent good sir!

(OOC: I suppose this becomes a tag, though a somewhat off-message post from the overall gist of the thread)

As the 23rd hour began, the emperor sat in his office tapping his well-manicured fingers on his desk. How dare the Japanese treat me with such disdain, he thought. Suddenly, the phone in his office rang. A voice on the other end of the phone stated, "Your Imperial Majesty, the Japanese Prime Minister is on the line."

"Very well," Nathaniel said, "patch him through." Nathaniel listened carefully to Kiichirō's problems. Of course, they were Kiichirō's problems entirely. The more Nathaniel listened to the soliloquy, the less sympathy he had towards the Japanese prime minister. In fact, it seemed to Nathaniel that Kiichirō was more interested in building up national sentiment through a more aggressive, militaristic Japan than actually addressing the problems presented by his current political predicament.

"Mr. Prime Minister," Nathaniel began, "I can certainly understand your delicate position. Certainly, as Chrinthani emperor, I am forced to deal with governments that have, over time, conflicted with my own personal views as to what was best for Chrinthanium. There is no ignorance on our part of your precarious situation."

"However," Nathaniel continued, "what started out as a simple trade organization has caused us great concern. Your investment in Anahuac is just that--an investment. Like all investments, there is a level of risk involved. Sometimes, investments pay off, sometimes they don't. In this case, Anahuac is poised for civil war and, quite frankly, your government seems interested in intervening on behalf of a faction more conducive to your perceived interests. Fine, that's understandable. But, the question shouldn't be what's good for Japan, but what's good for Anahuac. If the People of Anahuac believe they'd be better off with a new system of government, who are we to tell them no? That would be an egregious violation of national sovereignty, in my humble opinion."

Nathaniel opened up to Kiichirō regarding recent events in Chrinthanium, "I was, at first, unwilling to let Tasmania declare its independence and establish a socialist government in that tiny island province. However, the government and I, quite rightly so, decided that they had the ability to decide for themselves. Could I have threatened military action to achieve my goals? Most certainly. Were such action considered? Definitely. Did we actually carry through with such actions? No. Why? Because we not less willing to spend money and blood to prevent something that was, more than likely, going to happen whether or not we felt it in the overall best interest of Chrinthanium."

"If you're worried about your citizens, there is a simple and easy way to alleviate such an issue: order your citizens out. The few Chrinthani who were in Anahuac are currently under orders to leave the country and return home. If they can't get here, we're in the process of formulating a plan with the Californian ambassador to ask California itself to allow the Chrinthani entrance to their great nation. There are, Mr. Prime Minister, ways to solve the problem without bombs and guns."

"We're not questioning your ability to trade with foreign powers. We are questioning the ways in which this will be done. Should the Chrinthani buy Japanese products made in an Indusi sweat shop? Should the Chrinthani not question the safety of a Japanese car made by laborers in Anahuac making far less than the average Japanese per hour, in a nation whose safety regulations are lacking at best? Should we turn a blind eye while those in power in these nations with which you purport to be able to assist actually make all the money while the people working under their thumb are not afforded the same rights and privileges that any Japanese citizen is entitled to by law? Yes, we should question the safety of these products. Yes, we should question the ethical issues facing this plan. Yes, we should question whether or not this is more the rich and powerful corporations in Japan trying to make more Yen on the backs of impoverished people in less developed nations. Quite frankly, such images are detestable to the Chrinthani and are anathema to basic human rights."

As Kiichirō concluded, Nathaniel felt a bit more shoved into a corner. "Well, Mr. Prime Minister, while I will agree you have the right to trade with whomever you wish, I will state to you quite clearly the Chrinthani have the same right to question your motives, to proclaim ideas we feel are in direct conflict with the interest of the Chrinthani people, and to voice our concerns on the manner in which such things are carried out."

Kiichirō's inference that he could not contain certain militaristic factions of his government if the Chrinthani didn't back down did not sit well with Nathaniel. In fact, the emperor became quite indignant, "I believe, Mr. Prime Minister, that Japan should be very aware of its natural resource situation--or the lack thereof. Perhaps Japan's economy would suffer greatly from a sudden revocation of the trade agreements that keep vital resources flowing to your resource-starved nation. Tisk tisk, Mr. Prime Minister, I'd hate to think just what would happen to your hold on government then."

[Walmington on Sea]

With war in Europe dominating the news agenda in most of the British Empire, the political situation in southern North America had been ignored, and with something approaching relief. British policy extended to a grudging and at times incomplete participation in economic sanctions against Fredonia and lesser measures against a handful of powerful individuals in Anahuac, and an unofficial though often publicly discussed guarantee of Californian sovereignty against potential foreign aggression.

But the recent and rapid progress of Kurosite militants with an uncertain strength of Drapoel ties at least demanded second billing to the engagement of Gandvian, Nibelung, and Shieldian armed forces on Amberland's doorstep.

If anyone had forgotten why North America's underbelly was usually so neglected by the Empire, the headaches induced by the prospect that the Kurosites might some day strike a deal with the essentially Californian-approved Social Progress Party served as an uncomfortable reminder.

But what could be done? Tell San Diego to keep Igomo away from he Kurosites? Did California have that much pull with the SPP? Did the Empire have that much pull in San Diego? Or support Anahuac against the Kurosites? Was it not already too late? How much strain would that place on valued Anglo-Californian relations? Perhaps a way could be found to covertly support the Japanese effort... but would that not be akin to releasing a dragon in hopes that it might prefer to eat the wolf at the door than the family within?

Geoffrey Square, Tory Party leader, held -and vocally expounded- the, “Fugs are just AWOL Britons, and Anahuac probably doesn't even have a flag” view, suggesting that a bit of Godfreyite civilisation would settle the whole region down if it were just applied with a bayonet. The Prime Minister couldn't quite bring himself to agree, if only out of respect for the Chancellor's health.

The uncomfortable sum of it all was that, for now, the self-regarding greatest civilisation on earth would have to let a bunch of sun-addled hippies take the lead. Until events forced a more independent course of action to one end or another, the British would do what was possible to support California in its dealings with Japan, the Federacy, and Anahuac. Mainwaring was amongst those who felt quite sure that this strategy, if it could even be called such, would see the current morass of problems giving way, sooner or later, to another very serious problem. But that bridge, wherever it lead, would have to be crossed in turn.

For now, the British offered tokens of interest here and there. Salvage assets and investigators to take part in any operations concerning the apparently lost Japanese airliners. More joint exercises and expert liaison officers as the Californian defence forces desired. A bill to expand sanctions against the Gulfers. And a request for permission to establish several new consulates in Chrinthani cities beyond the few major hubs in which they presently existed, as a sign of intent to strengthen ties in the immediate future.

And soon would come a show of military might presumably too long in the planning to have been inspired by recent events in the Pacific or the Americas, and more likely related chiefly to Gandvian aggression and embarrassment over the lead that California had taken in certain matters of importance. Only hints, for now, picked up by enthusiasts and circulated on certain strands of the web.

[The Crooked Beat]

Anahuac

Although it had undeniably met with greater success in a shorter span of time than could be claimed by any other Kurosite formation, either recently or at any point during Anahuac's seemingly interminable civil war, Force 117 was in actual fact only one out of five large, semi-regularized field forces committed to an offensive that, by all appearances, seemed very likely to prove final. Kitchen's command, built as it was around a collection of battalions noted for their fanaticism, represented, certainly, the largest, best-equipped, and arguably most elite single portion of the Mesoamerican People's Army, one which had been assigned to an effort which PRPM leadership hoped would prove decisive, but it was far from the Kurosites' only going concern, and in its bid to reach Anahuac City first faced stiff competition from others equally determined, if less advantageously-placed, to claim that singular prize.

Far to the south, only a short distance beyond the Tepechiapan Liberated Zone, Force 81 remained closely engaged with a coastal pocket of ADF light infantry battalions, trapped there following the Tehuantepec Cordon's collapse, and alongside Force 141, freshly-raised from ‘promoted’ Regional Force personnel and ordered to follow-up Force 117, could be considered out of the running. Force 10, however, painstakingly infiltrated over a span of months into Oaxaca, had already, in conjunction with local guerrillas, ripped Military Area C to shreds, capturing a large volume of materiel in the process, and was battling through Anahuac’s central highlands at a relentless pace. To its left, Force 78, which had also taken part in the destruction of Military Area C, and which had nearly consumed an additional ADF armored cavalry battalion in a series of mammoth ambushes, was making rapid progress as well and had nearly reached Yopitzinco, itself in a state of open revolt. Once Force 78 reached that region, its inhabitants of well-known Kurosite sympathies and long subjected to an extremely brutal sort of counterinsurgency strategy, carried-out by a Rural Guard notorious for its lack of restraint and association, at times bordering on synonymy, with criminal elements, little short of a Gulf States intervention, or explicit instructions from the PRPM’s central committee, could prevent it from turning due north on Anahuac City.

As Anahuac’s own armed forces, what remained of them, melted away to desertion or wasted away in battle, it appeared increasingly certain, to Edward Lane and his PRPM comrades at least and to a growing proportion of regime officials as well, that the Federacy above all other external actors stood to exert a deciding influence over immediate events. The Kurosite executive, kept informed of developments in Anahuac City by an extensive espionage network and a signals-interception capability far more advanced than government sources would ever admit, did not see much reason to believe that Japan, by itself, and by means short of a nuclear attack, could fundamentally alter the balance of forces before ADF resistance broke down entirely. Drone attacks, certainly, had caused damage, wrecked supplies and transport, killed Kurosite cadres, but they hadn’t yet proven any more of a nuisance than the ADF-AF itself, and the MPA, a force which had never been able to stake any sort of claim on control of the air, could expect to cope, temporarily at least. A Japanese regiment, rumored to be on its way as part of a large naval task force, could doubtless prove more of an obstacle, though, with California seemingly intent on imposing a blockade that could only facilitate a Kurosite success, it remained to be seen as to whether such assistance would arrive at all.

In Anahuac City, too, doubts about Japan’s value as an ally were growing, roughly in proportion to Kurosite gains at Xalapa and elsewhere. With Tenoch’s death, in truth an agonizingly drawn-out affair, Anahuac as a state had lost not only its psychological anchor but its leading advocate for close association with Tokyo as well. Tenoch, more legitimately a patriot than nearly all of his high-level colleagues, had been willing to gamble on Japan as an alternative, indeed the only alternative, to a pact with Fredonia, and while alive his force of personality had been strong enough to keep other regime elements in line behind that policy. Now that Tenoch was dead, however, certain individuals began to discuss more openly the possibility of following a different course.

Tenoch’s line of succession may have been, in strictly legal terms, clearly established, though few expected Major-General Philip Loew, by all accounts a competent and effective Air Force chief-of-staff but not, by any stretch of the imagination, an especially inspiring or even well-known leader of men, to last long in his new post. Indeed, Loew faced pressure, from his fellow Directors no less, to make plans for a transfer of power even while Tenoch still clung to life, and he knew better than to take exception to their reasoning. If anyone could replace General Tenoch at such a point of extreme danger, it struck most of those in government that the ideal candidate would be as alike the departed General in character and bearing as possible. And according to such criteria, few could imagine a candidate more ideal than Colonel Iorwerth Glodrydd, popular hero, implacable foe of all Reds, and current occupant of Tenoch’s own former post as commander of the elite Paracommando Brigade.

Descendant of exiled Geletian Movers, red-haired, scrupulously clean-shaven Glodrydd towered over typically short Nahua and possessed a temper to match. He nonetheless enjoyed from his subordinates a level of loyalty and confidence equaled by few if any other senior ADF officers, a result of his very Celtic reputation for extreme, often reckless physical courage combined with a finely-honed tactical sense. Glodrydd was, furthermore, undeniably a lucky man, survivor of multiple helicopter crashes, rough parachute landings, and more close calls in battle than he ever bothered to count, and as a consequence a belief had sprung up among rank-and-file paratroopers that he benefitted from some form of ancient Druid blessing, a belief that the Colonel, a fiercely devout Christian, did everything in his power to discourage.

News of Glodrydd’s impending elevation to executive office undoubtedly carried positive implications for the Federacy, he having been known for some time as an advocate of an anticommunist alliance with Fredonia, while his views on race, though not often made public, were by no means incompatible with those current in Anahuac’s northern neighbor. For Tokyo, the Colonel, soon to be Major-General, would perhaps represent more of a difficulty. General Kuribayashi was certainly encouraged by his hosts to see Glodrydd as the only man capable of holding the country together under prevailing conditions, not an ideal peacetime leader perhaps but perfect in an emergency. Then again, Kuribayashi would certainly be aware of Glodrydd’s pro-Federacy leanings, and in his capacity as senior-most paratrooper he had hardly been cooperative in Japanese training efforts, arguing, sometimes with a force bordering on rudeness if not without justification, that no men could be spared from ongoing operations, and suggesting that Japanese training personnel be made available to his command instead.

At any rate, Glodrydd could count on the instinctive support of Anahuac’s best soldiers, and could be counted-on in turn to fight, until the bitter end and beyond.

Metztitlan

Mere hours from Anahuac City by road, to a large extent Metztitlan may have been, for all practical purposes, a foreign country, such was the extent of the government’s local administrative presence. A PRPM rising based around four mutinous companies of Rural Guards, thoroughly compromised by Kurosite infiltrators, which under normal circumstances would have represented no special difficulty for ADF troops, was under present circumstances quite impossible to quell, as several costly attempts had already demonstrated. There were, as in dozens of similar cases, quite simply no forces to spare, and no way, seemingly, short of divine intervention, to turn paramilitary Civil Guards, though loyal or at least vengeful enough, into soldiers of requisite quality. Larkin Force, named after its youthful, eloquent, and energetic leader, enjoyed almost complete freedom of operation in its mountainous base areas, there untroubled, as yet, except by occasional air raids and distant shelling, and had largely succeeded in keeping local Civil Guard battalions penned-up in their own fortified bases. Patrols by heavily-armed convoys, often carried aboard armor-clad Land Cruisers and Nissans, occasionally sortied out to challenge Kurosite dominance of the countryside, though even those were risky undertakings, and would have been even more so, had the Rural Guards themselves not been so lightly-equipped.

Luckily for Anahuac City, however, Metztitlan’s competitor government was soon forced to contend with a crisis entirely independent of ADF action. The assumption of de facto control over much of the province by Corporal Barry Larkin’s ramshackle junta had, much to Larkin’s own surprise and disappointment, provided just enough room for lingering discord, suppressed for some time by a police regime whose sympathies were never in question, to reemerge, and with a vengeance.

Its proximity to the capital, and consequent relative security, had made Metztitlan a prime target for government land reform efforts, which had as their central objective the uprooting of peasant populations, for access to their communal holdings, to free-up their labor for urban industry, and in order to destroy the PRPM’s base of popular support. Now that such efforts appeared near reversal, Larkin found himself in the role of mediator between peasant-smallholder interests, intent on reclaiming what had been appropriated by would-be industrial farmers over the decades, and those agricultural laborers who, though without a legal title to any plot, had been held in virtual bondage by the government-allied planters, and felt themselves justified in claiming a portion of their former bosses’ holdings. That most peasants were, like Larkin’s soldiers, Nahua, and most landless laborers of African extraction, did nothing to simplify the young Corporal’s dilemma. Larkin was soon confronted by an uncomfortable realization. Local notables and headmen, the same who had done so much to facilitate a Kurosite takeover in Metztitlan, who had in fact furnished most of the Rural Guard companies’ strength to begin with, expected to profit from their association with the PRPM. And, at least until Anahuac City fell, Larkin’s very survival would depend in large part on his willingness to accommodate those wishes.

12.Commando, then, would find in Metztitlan an environment both rich in potential targets and short on effective or organized frontier surveillance, in spite of numerous directives from the PRPM’s Central Committee exhorting its cadres to new heights of vigilance. Roughly half of the local population, after all, was by no means certain that it could trust a Kurosite presence whose ethnic loyalties were widely felt to reside elsewhere, while the PRPM contingent on hand still found more than enough, in its ongoing struggle with the ADF, to occupy its limited resources. Even if they had been watching out for infiltrators from the north, there was no guarantee that the mutinous Rural Guards, a far cry from professional soldiers, would have encountered much success in tracking-down Fredonian commandos. And Anahuac City, as Iorwerth Glodrydd prepared to assume power, was more and more ready to regard the Gulf States, belatedly, as a positive force, regardless of whether or not its physical intervention had strictly been asked for.

Yopitzinco

In the space of a few intolerably short weeks, Anahuac’s corps of observer pilots had seen their line of work transform from one characterized by considerable risk, to one fraught with danger, to one which often demanded a suicidal disregard for one’s own safety. Kurosite troops, obviously and self-consciously winning the war that had alternately raged and simmered for beyond fifty years, had now not only shed much of their earlier wariness where ADF aerial observation was concerned, but had also, in the form of captured 15mm heavy machine guns and 20mm cannons, acquired weapons of a sort absolutely fatal to small, slow, low-flying and effectively unarmored ADF-AF light planes. Pilots used to operating at treetop height had consequently been forced, after painful losses, thousands of feet above their preferred altitude, an important victory for an army long unable to exert much of an influence on the skies overhead.

Changed conditions did nothing, of course, to diminish a very acute and overriding sense of responsibility, held on a near universal basis by ADF-AF forward controllers, for the ground troops nominally under their care, and it was almost out of shame, for not sharing in the infantryman’s filthy, terrifying, exhausting daily existence, that they continued to risk their lives on a near constant basis.

Warrant Officer O’Neal peered earthward at a landscape of jagged green hills as his DAS-66 traced a racetrack pattern at an altitude considered just beyond reach of Force 78’s captured Oerlikons. Not far below, a badly outnumbered scratch force of ADF commandos, paratroopers, and cavalrymen, O’Neal knew, was locked in a running battle with one of the MPA’s premier field forces, and while the elite government troops had done much to reinforce their formidable reputation, both for combat effectiveness and for wanton brutality, they were near the end of their tether. Anahuac’s miniscule air force could only offer so much in the article of close air support, but, delivered accurately and tenaciously, it had proven decisive before, and fliers like O’Neal were determined that it should do so again.

One advantage to a much-increased level of enemy activity, O’Neal had noticed, was that suitable targets for air power, formerly so scarce and fleeting, had become almost abundant. The Kurosites, it seemed, had taken to the field in greater numbers than they could effectively conceal, and had in their eagerness to pursue and annihilate ADF ground troops chosen to abandon or neglect certain time-honored camouflage practices. Sure enough, as O’Neal scanned one particular patch of ground, he noticed clusters of small, dark shapes in irregular movement. Instinctively, he switched radio frequencies to raise the control station and received a pair of rocket-armed Aermacchis.

“Magpie Green, this is Granite Able, in your area at five angels, orbiting left, over,” called the flight leader just as a high-speed glint of metal caught O’Neal’s eye.

“Granite Able, this is Magpie Green, your ten o’clock, orbiting left over target, over.”

“Roger, Magpie Green, have you in sight, over,” responded the fighter leader.

“Ok, Grantite Able, target is infantry, on hillside south-southeast of burned-out APC on north-south road. If you have me in sight, I will make a pass on heading two-seven-zero degrees and mark the target with a smoke rocket. Stand by for identification pass.”

O’Neal banked steeply to port and dove on the hillside, which, as he drew closer, erupted in a storm of small-arms fire. Keying the control yoke, he sent a pair of smoke rockets lancing into the ground, where they burst in billowing white clouds. “Splash!” O’Neal called into his microphone headset, as he zoom-climbed to altitude and turned out to observe the fighter-bombers as they put in their attack runs. Canopies and remaining natural-metal surfaces glistening in the tropical sunlight, the two MB-326s half-rolled and raced in at high speed to strafe and rocket the Kurosites, individual details of which were soon lost in a cloud of dust and debris kicked-up by bursting 30mm cannon shells and FFARs. Circling at low altitude, O’Neal counted scattered lifeless figures and discarded kit.

“Granite Able, observed hits on target. Stand by for evaluation pass, over.”

Once again, O’Neal banked hard and shot earthward in a bid, while so dangerously close to the ground, to keep his airspeed as high as possible. Leveling-out mere dozens of feet above the hillside, small arms continuing to crackle around him, O’Neal did his best to count the numerous enemy dead from what gave every indication of having been a successful strike. As he began his climb-out, however, something on a valley floor below caught his attention, clumps of foliage which, to his accustomed eye, looked suspiciously out of place. Deftly maneuvering his airplane between terrain, O’Neal shot directly for the odd shapes. Much to his satisfaction, they were promptly abandoned by a handful of running men. Trucks, sure enough, and as enticing a target as O’Neal had ever encountered.

“Granite Able, this is Magpie Green, primary target confirmed. Have identified possible secondary target. Can you engage, over?”

“Affirmative, Magpie Green, standing by.”

Looping around, O’Neal lined up for a pass on what was now obviously a line of parked trucks, captured, no doubt, days earlier, and camouflaged, diligently enough, somewhere far to the south, though with foliage that, as O’Neal looked more closely, obviously failed to match local ground cover. He drew a bead on his primitive rocket sight and fired, only to be greeted by a volcanic and wholly unanticipated explosion. .

“Good hit, good hit!” exclaimed Granite Able. “Leave some for the rest of us,” contributed his wingman, suddenly in an exuberant mood.

“Uh, Granite Able, this is, uh, Magpie Green, target is marked, over.” O’Neal’s attempt at matter-of-factness was greeted with tinny laughter.

With equal speed, however, O’Neal’s personal environment was turned completely on its head. Unseen, an MPA machine-gunner had himself drawn a bead on the low-flying DAS-66, and opened up just as O’Neal began to climb out of the shallow canyon. Though not more than a rifle-caliber weapon, it tore through the spotter plane’s light aluminum skin and made scrap metal of its piston engine. Before he could quite take stock of what was going on, O’Neal found himself staring panicked at the ground, babbling incoherently into his radio headset. Jolted unconscious by force of impact, O’Neal awoke to a mixture of stabbing pain and the ear-splitting screech of turbojet engines as Granite Able and Granite Baker streaked low, very low, overhead. In a daze, he tried to drag himself from the cracked-up and crumpled mass of metal, rich with the scent of leaking oil and coolant, his body, inconceivably sore, responding at best sluggishly. Cutting himself free of the jammed seat harness, he managed to pull himself through an open canopy window and attempted to stand, though his rubbery legs refused to support his weight, and he promptly collapsed.

Overhead, Granite Able and Granite Baker continued to circle, strafing the surrounding hillsides until they ran out of ammunition and conducting high-speed passes at extreme low level until their fuel gauges read near empty. They had seen enough of Anahuac’s civil war to know what sort of treatment a captured forward controller could expect, even from relatively well-disciplined Main Force troops, and knew also that rescue, when ADF-AF resources fell already so far below what was required, represented an impossibility. Against all hope, the fighter-bomber pilots lingered so that O’Neal, if physically able, might at least attempt a run to safety, but low fuel forced them to depart without observing anything to give cause for encouragement. With heavy hearts, the Aermacchi pilots turned back for base, having lost one more comrade in a battle that was virtually certain to claim the lives of many more friends and squadron-mates before it ended.

[Nova Gaul]

Eastern Pacific Ocean

A week at sea had seen the Rengō Kantai , 聯合艦隊 or 'Combined Fleet' of the Imperial Japanese Navy, advance nearly the total distance of its voyage and undergo a fundamental change in the agenda of its mission. Now mere days away from Anahuac, having traveled the southern route through the Natsumeku Islands, the Combined Fleet received fresh orders from Tokyo which altered the original goal: whereas Ichi-gō Sakusen or 'Operation Number One' was originally intended to aid the government of Anahuac in suppressing and eventually reversing the rebel advance it was now tasked to evacuate Japanese nationals and other people besides from the troubled Central American country. Given that the government believed there were currently some 3,150 Japanese citizens (many of whom were the wives and children of entrepreneurs and salarymen) residing in Anahuac, and perhaps an equal number of Anahuac citizens employed by or associated with Japanese companies, the evacuation would be a long and costly affair.

Prime Minister Kiichirō and his administration, both houses of the Diet, zaibatsu oligarchs, the Imperial Privy Council, senior Army and Navy officials, even the Imperial Household, had been engaged in intense behind the scenes debating following the destruction of an Imperial Japanese Army Air Force M-100 in international airspace off the California Coast. While all were shocked at California's brazen action there was no unanimous agreement as to how to respond. However with the exception of the radical Imperial Way Faction (皇道派 Kōdōha) of the Imperial Japanese Army (mainly consisting of junior officers) that wanted to go to war against California and called for full military deployment to the Americas most in power believed that California's effective entry into the Anahuac's civil war—on a de facto level siding with the Kurosite rebels—precluded any chance of success of crushing the rebels and saving Tenoch's junta. Any chance of success to fulfill Operation Number One would indeed require a total war, and this was a route that the majority of Japan's found unacceptable. Unacceptable, really impossible, because all Anahuac's neighbors seemed willing to let the government collapse, even if they were not openly supportive of the Kurosites themselves. Even the United Gulfs States, whose support would be required were Operation Number One to have been put earnestly into action, seemed antagonistic towards Japanese efforts and had yet to join the Pacific Trade Organization, let alone come out in support of Tokyo's initiative.

The result of hours of debate was twofold. First, maintaining the support of the emperor (who uncharacteristically voiced his support publicly), Prime Minister Kiichirō would continue his government and his plan to grow the Pacific Trade Organization despite this obvious setback in the Americas. Secondly, Japanese nationals residing in Anahuac, along with as many hard assets and allied citizens within Anahuac as possible, would be evacuated back to Japanese territory. It was little compensation for Japan's promise to the Directory to preserve the status quo, yet with California openly hostile to Japan, Chrinthanium supportive of California, and with Great Walmington and Amerique probably supporting of the progressive states as well, it was the only viable solution to the crisis.

General Tenoch's death sealed the fate of Japan's involvement, and so it was that the government of Anahuac's new leader, Iorwerth Glodrydd, was informed of the withdrawal of direct Japanese support. In an effort to soften the blow General Tadamichi Kuribayashi informed Colonel Glodrydd that even though all Japanese physical assets were being evacuated, the Japanese would continue their support with a series of emergency loans to Anahuac City, something in the range of several hundred million yen or about thirty million English pounds sterling.

Kuribayashi went to great lengths to explain how the Japanese were prevented from giving any further support by California's hostility and the Gulf State's ambivalence. Even if the Japanese were to have committed themselves entirely and gone to war, with supply lines at such great distances, the outcome would not have been favorable. Petty compensation to be sure, but Kuribayashi also told the Colonel how Japan would be willing to evacuate a number of Anahuac citizens (if they so choose) in addition to their own. It was implicitly offered to the Directory that the Japanese could evacuate themselves and their family, as well as their close associates, to safety in the empire thousands of kilometers away.

Such were the developments as the Combined Fleet set final course for Anahuac, presently about one day out. The powerful task force maintained flank speed as it approached the American coast, but given the recent surprise attack on a Japanese military aircraft and uncertainty about the situation on the ground, the fleet went to general quarters, arming its weapons and deploying its sailors and soldiers to battlestations. According to the plan the fleet would take up a patrol formation off Acapulco while four thousand light infantry troops of the Imperial Japanese Army's 15th Brigade would conduct a simultaneous amphibious and helicopter landing south of the city. When the land was secure the soldiers would establish a temporary evacuation headquarters.

Steaming likewise at flank speed towards Acapulco, several days behind the Combined Fleet, were five semi-antiquated Nakasu-class troops transports out of the IJN naval base on Oguni-Jima (Kiritimati): the Tike, the Zeke, Reke, Kase and the Tsuke. With troop capacity only half that of the Ōsumi-class, of which the Nakasu-class was the great-predecessor, the former Imperial Japanese Navy ships were maintained by the Natsumeku Island Corps in the event of a volcanic eruption in the Summer Islands or similar natural disaster. Since with their combined billeting they could only transport two thousand five hundred people the Nakasu-class would be joined in the evacuation by the Nissan manufactured cargo liner Nissei Maru. The cargo vessel, designed to ferry automobiles from Japan to Anahuac and the Gulf States, had been returning empty to the Home Islands when it was rented out by the navy for Operation Number One. Now it had come about and was returning to join the Combined Fleet, and had enough room to transport nearly three-thousand individuals—albeit uncomfortably—to the final evacuation site on Oguni-Jima.

Anahuac City

General Kuribayashi's task after informing 'President' Glodrydd of Japan's forced withdrawal was coordinating the Japanese evacuation with him. Dozens of Japanese helicopters would need their flights across Anahuac, from the prospective evacuation base south of Acapulco to Anahuac City, approved. Anticipating that the new colonel-executive might be unenthusiastic about the evacuation of Japanese troops and assets, Kuribayashi eagerly illustrated that even as the Japanese prepared to depart monies continued to flow the Anahuac Defense Force's coffer from Tokyo. Japan would, moreover, be leaving the seven Kawasaki Ki-932 heavy fighter-bombers, with their full ground-attack packages, in the hands of Anahuac's airforce. However the drones Japan had brought in and put to limited use, given their advanced nature and the fact Tokyo feared them falling into Kurosite (or worse, Californian) hands, would be leaving.

As the understaffed portion of a Japanese training company and a few platoons and airmen packed up their gear at Anahuac City International Airport in anticipation of the evacuation fleet's arrival, the Japanese special envoy would speak privately with the colonel-executive. The empire was loathe to withdraw from the conflict, he would explain, but California's attack and support (so Tokyo believed) imminent from Amerique and Great Walmington, there were no other possible alternatives. Kuribayashi did not conceal his pessimism regarding the situation from Glodrydd: “California's attack confirms their support of the Kurosite rebels, consequently it would be realistic to give your administration a life of weeks rather than months.” Yet he did offer somewhat of a silver lining. Because of the situation and Japan's inability to live up to their end of the bargain, the empire was willing to evacuate approximately three thousand Anahuac nationals to safety, as many as they had room for.

Certainly, the family of the Directory (and their assets) would be safer after the next week or two in the empire than in Anahuac. Even members of the Directory itself, Kuribayashi stated, could be taken across the Pacific to safety. If Glodrydd was hostile to the idea of any government officials fleeing with the Japanese, Kuribayashi still asked for permission for hundreds of bankers and businessmen and others who would be in danger in Kurosite hands to evacuate on the Japanese fleet. Japan especially felt responsible for a thousand or so citizens of Anahuac who were actual employees of Japanese concerns. All refugees, Kuribayashi promised, would be provided with Japanese asylum visas and would be given permanent residency on their arrival. The Empire of Japan, famous for its desire for homogeneity, had never extended an offer such as this before, but its failure to honor an agreement (a sacred thing) prompted it.

San Diego

The Japanese reaction to California's unprovoked and merciless attack on an Imperial Japanese Army Air Force M-100 remained forthcoming. The intense effect of the act had yet to fully realize, and the citizens of Japan—and its government, for that matter—were still in a state of shock rather than fury. Nothing like it had occurred in the entire military history of the empire, and few saw what Japan's possible answer to such a challenge might be. It had only just been confirmed, amidst the chaos in Mesoamerica, that Japan Airlines Flight 0012 (although it had been fired upon) had survived the encounter and arrived safety in Anahuac City.

In the mean time, most pragmatically, the Empire of Japan had no desire to repeat the incident as they attempted their evacuation from Anahuac. Therefore the staff of the Japanese embassy in San Diego uncharacteristically informed the Californian government in real time of what was occurring. That Japan had dispatched a navy fleet to Anahuac over a week ago, that it was due to arrive in the next twenty-four hours, and that its goal was not any longer to suppress rebel activity but to rescue the thousands of Japanese currently stranded in Anahuac. After the massacre of the M-100 Japan no longer would allow flights into the region, so the seaborne rescue was Japan's only hope.

Without emotion the Japanese staff explained to the Californians that their cowardly strike had achieved its goal, the empire would not be intervening in the conflict any longer. Given the speed at which the rebels were advancing, the Japanese were forthright that military force might be required to extricate their people and stated without preamble they would use whatever means were necessary to evacuate successfully. The Californians were welcome to watch the operation because the Japanese had nothing to hide in the matter, they were pulling out. However, and the Japanese were absolutely clear about this, if, for whatever reason, California attempted to harm or harass the navy ships or the operation, they would be met with 'swift and immediate' countermeasures.

Indeed the Japanese had nothing to hide in the matter. California's actions had radically altered paradigms in the Pacific, and its actions had of course made it an open enemy of Japan regardless of whatever specific response the Japanese might make. But that was for the future. In the mean time California wanted the Japanese out of the civil conflict in Anahuac, and the Japanese now wanted to leave it. In light of that simply fact Tokyo had every hope that San Diego would simply allow the Combined Fleet to conduct its rescue and so end imperial involvement in increasingly chaotic Anahuac.

[Iansisle]

To WoS / TGS

How much pull did San Diego have with Igomo and the SPP? That was an open question, even within California's own foreign and military services. A few personnel on the ground in the Federacy, perhaps, occasional weapon drops and intelligence updates. Most of what they contributed to the SSP was good intentions, words, and the power of economic and diplomatic coercion that kept the Federacy and Anahuac isolated on a global scale. Exactly how much that would be worth to men and women living under the direct shadow of the FDF could only truly be known to the SSP, although even most Californian intelligence officers admitted it probably wasn't much.

As for Walmington's influence on Presidio Hill, the relatively more moderate course of blockade had been chosen mostly because of fears of alienating Great Walmington. The extensive schedule of Bandido raids to cripple Anahuac's air defenses and the subsequent basing there of aircraft to support the revolution had been nixed because of worries over the Chaoist nature of the PRPM and the unknowable extent to which Drapol was involved in the region. Although San Diego had refused to join the Parliament of Nations and severely condemned English atomic activity during the conflict, it was generally recognized that a certain solidarity between the democratic states of the world was necessary to both the economic and military security of the world.

The slate of bills passed through the English parliament in the weeks following the shoot-down were greatly appreciated in California, itself passing through a rocky political crisis. In San Diego, the rocky government of national unity mostly stood the tests it was subjected to, although the smaller Green half of the coalition made sure the Socialist half understood that no major ecological or financial bills would be considered until after the crisis had been resolved. As days stretched into weeks without Japanese comment on the situation and no further flights, some Greens even began to theorize that the crisis had passed and the time was ripe to begin negotiation a permanent ruling coalition agreement.

to LRR / TGS

On the ground in Anahuac, however, Lieutenant Topete had no notion that the crisis was winding down. She had been able to share information about the shoot-down of the Japanese M-100 and the lack of subsequent flights, although she found the PRPM eerily well-informed about those goings-on. It helped to reinforce a belief in her that the Kursoites were not only going to win, they were going to do so completely independent of California.

The big wild card would be the Gulf States, which intelligence indicated was increasingly unstable and perhaps on the verge of a massive intervention against the Kursoites, one which would likely see the Federacy try to absorb Anahuac as it had the Pueblo Leagues half a century earlier. If that was the case, perhaps her superiors in San Diego would finally see that Lane and his PRPM offered the only alternative to Fredonian hegemony over half of the Americas.

As the undeclared Pueblo Wars of the 1960s had demonstrated, the Gulf and California had fundamentally different ideas on how to wage a war. With the vast open deserts of eastern California dominated by the FAC, Fredonia could not effectively challenge San Diego at home, but in the urban and forest areas of central America, their light infantry could not be completely countered by air power. The only solution – other than training, equipping, and sending in its own ground forces, which no government in modern California would be willing to do – was to find and support a local force on the ground.

In the Pueblo Wars, the League had supplied the ground forces (and blood) until improved Gulf anti-air technology acquired from abroad had forced the FAC to flee the field; after that, the League's resistance largely collapsed. In Anahuac, the Mesoamerican People's Army was organized, on the ground, and winning. If the Gulf States moved in, they would be the resistance. And the sooner Herminia Topete could make her superiors see that – the sooner that they could move to make the PRPM at least partially answerable to San Diego – the better.

There was, of course, the pie-in-the-sky dream of the SPP. There had been some indications of activity from that group to the north, and Topete suspected that Kitchen and the PRPM were probably better informed in this particular area than she was. Maybe they could be developed into a 'third force.' Given the level that San Diego seemed willing to commit resources to Anahuac, she very much doubted that would ever come to pass.

To NG

Back in San Diego, the fallout from the shoot-down of the M-100 was finally starting to accumulate. The staff of the Japanese embassy came to inform Presidio Hill about the approach of the Combined Fleet and then, before any response could be formulated, announced a formal severance of diplomatic relations and withdrawn the very embassy staff who had presumably been telling the government about impending evacuation operations.

In truth, although nobody on Presidio Hill told the Japanese this, perpetration for the arrival of the Combined Fleet in the eastern Pacific Ocean had been underway for almost two weeks. The absence of the vessels from their normal berths was noticed almost immediately, and naval analysts had postulated that the simultaneous deployment of so many ships on routine patrol at the same time on the same day as an announcement of support for Anahuac's hard-pressed central government was unlikely. It took another two days to locate the fleet at sea – a capability that California's Air Force was eager to keep from the Japanese – and positively identify its components. It course had been plotted and, as its eastern Pacific destination became clear, countermeasures taken.

The first – and most public – was the dispatching of the Eighth Hunter Squadron to FAC Los Cabos. As the Izumo, known to deploy a wing of approximately twenty Type 009 jump jets, was part of the Combined Fleet the need for a air-superiority fighter to counter it was paramount. The sixteen Crótalos of the Eighth would be equipped as standard for a long-range air superiority mission: the centerline station would carry a Cóndor missile pod, which included the launch rails for two of the 470 kilogram missiles in addition to the sophisticated acquisition and tracking software integral to the weapon, which had an effective range of 250 kilometers. Although its lack of maneuverability would preclude anti-fighter operations, it was hoped that the Cóndor would be effective targeting 009s in their vulnerable vertical take-off-and-landing operations. Use of drop tanks on the fuselage hardpoints reduced the overall amount of ordnance the airplane could carry but granted the Eighth a combat radius of roughly twelve hundred kilometers before aerial refueling was factored in. Finally, on the wing pylons, the Crótalos carried four Lechuza tactical BVR missiles – which Lockheed promised would work to design specifications this time – and four Colibrí short-range infared guided missiles.

Then there was the Second Naval Interdiction Squadron, who had intercepted JA12 and the military M-100. The CAT (Crótalo de Ataque a Tierra) was a special variation of the Crótalo optimized for air-to-surface attack. In the long-range naval interdiction mission, the CATs would fill their the conformal fuel tanks, giving them a combat radius similar to their cousins but meaning that the hardpoints underneath them could not be used. Instead, they would mount two Lechuza missiles on the centerline pylon and four Colibrís on the outer wing pylons. Their signature armament would be carried on the inner pylons: two long-range Alforfón-F missiles. The big, bulky weapons were a fire-and-forget sea skimming missile with a roughly three hundred kilometer range. It was hoped that, with the CATs approaching at close to sea level before firing their weapons, networking with loitering Virgo and Vaquero command aircraft, the targets would not even notice the incoming danger until the missile had started its terminal pop-up attack.

The third pillar of the naval strategy was the only one to come from the Navy itself, which made it by far the least important in the mind of the Air Force generals planning the operation. With the combined fleet still ten days out, the diesel-electric submarine Victoria, purchased from Walmington, slipped out of San Diego Bay under the cover of dark. It was inevitable that her departure would soon be noticed and reported; within hours, bloggers across the country were speculating on the reason for the deployment. Although the little outdated boat was by herself no match for the Japanese fleet, the very nature of a submarine was to avoid a fair fight. California's Navy, whatever its other shortcomings, had a great ocean survey division, and Victoria's captain intended to put that, combined with the country's top-flight reconnaissance, to use. The little boat, refueled off Baja by a tender from La Paz, made her way out to a point a thousand kilometers south-southeast of Cabo San Lucas, where her captain, having plotted the best hiding spots in the area, waited for the word from San Diego about whether or not an attack on the Combined Fleet would be authorized.

So much for the military preparations. On the diplomatic front, Jenny Whitaker's Foreign Office scrambled to discover Japan's exact intentions quickly enough to prevent an incident from developing off the Pacific coast of North America. Assuming that the shoot-down occurred on the day after the Combined Fleet left for Anahuac and that the Combined Fleet traveled at a speed of roughly fifteen knots, prudent fuel conservation for the vast desert of waters to be traversed, only stopping to refuel, it would take them almost twenty days – nearly three weeks – to travel to [Acapulco], the only deep-water port in Anahuac not currently known to be in rebel-held territory. Further presuming a relatively direct route from Japan to [Acapulco], roughly eleven thousand kilometers, the Combined Fleet would be in range of CATs from FAC Los Cabos for two thousand kilometers, roughly three days of travel. If the fleet accelerated to “flank speed” of thirty knots while in range of Californian aircraft, that would still be more than a day and a half. It would be possible to divert further to the south, to avoid Californian aircraft entirely, but that would increase the distance to over thirteen thousand kilometers, tacking another three to five days onto the travel time.

At any rate, whichever course was chosen by the Japanese admirals, there was at least a two week lag time between the initial shoot-down and the diplomatic response. When it did come, the reply was eerily similar to the negotiating “technique” employed by the pilots of the two Japanese airliners: irreversible proclamation followed by silence and withdrawal, which was immensely frustrating to the diplomatic professionals. In shockingly quick succession to this announcement, after a nearly two week delay, that a massive fleet of guided missile vessels, aircraft carriers, and troop transports would be making port in Anahuac to “rescue” people, the Japanese ambassador was on his way home. The Republic had been labeled 'terrorists' and their mission in Tokyo had been declared persona non grata. The severance of diplomatic relations was generally considered to be the prelude to a declaration of war, and a succession of Air Force generals paraded through Padrigo's office, all of them of the opinion that a Japanese first strike against military bases and civilian populations in Baja California was imminent and that the Combined Fleet should be sent to the bottom, and the sooner the better.

“Look, Prime Minister,” drawled one presidero general, leaning back in his chair. “you don't need three carriers, four thousand troops, six destroyers, and five frigates to go pick daisies or rescue cats from trees or whatever else old Kiichirō wants us to believe they're up to. That's a fleet meant for nothing less than absolute and total war.”

When Padrigo didn't respond immediately, the old general looked up and the ceiling and continued. “Maybe I'm wrong. I hope to God that I am. But you don't call someone a rouge and a terrorist and the greatest threat to your nation in the world and then – oops – just so happens we've this immensely powerful offensive fleet right next to you, but don't worry, they're just here to pick up a few thousand civilians, which we could have accomplished with a single cruise ship and a helicopter.”

“What exactly do you propose, General?” asked Padrigo.

“Simple enough, Prime Minister. We tell them to turn their happy asses around and sail back to where they came from. We'll cooperate with them to organize an evacuation airlift. They could fly out on some of those airliners that they're using to skip the country, or on our own that are coming home since they told us we weren't welcome in their parts. If they refuse, we know they're up to no good and we start plugging their ships before they start killing our children.”

to NG, WoS

In the end, Padrigo didn't have the stomach to fire on what, despite all the evidence to the contrary, might be a purely peaceful mission. A frigate from the naval base at La Paz was ordered to [Acapulco]. With the break in diplomatic relations, the Walmingtonian ambassador was asked to inform Tokyo that Santa Rosa's mission was to peacefully observe the goings on and make sure that no further weapons systems were shipping into Anahuac. If the Japanese had further questions, they could reestablish diplomatic relations.

In Tokyo, the (former) ambassador left two separate protests for the Prime Minister. The first condemned the lack of law and order in the country and included a brief invoice with preliminary damages to the embassy compound during the riot. The second objected to the lack of time given for evacuation – only six hours. It included a stern warning that everything in the embassy compound was the property of the Republic of California and that any damage during the ambassador's absence would be charged to the Japanese government. Fortunately, most of the non-essential secret papers had been evacuated in the two-week lead up to the crisis, leaving only the personnel to be evacuated after those remaining had been destroyed.

Here, the assistance of close allies, mostly the English and the Chrinthanis, was sought. As no flight could make it from California to Japan in time to meet the deadline and most of the Republic's logistical strength would be tied up evacuating those civilians caught on the ground by Tokyo's sudden and sweeping declaration, help would be needed. Extra space on national carriers headed just about anywhere was sought, with the Republic's government being more than willing to compensate well above and beyond the going rate.

At sea closer to home, Virgo and Vaquero aircraft continued to monitor the progress of the Combined Fleet, staying close enough to observe the CAP which the fleet was presumably flying and occasionally closing to within three hundred kilometers, close enough to chart the exact disposition of the fleet. Two Crótalos, constantly rotating and using aerial refueling to keep their tanks more or less full, from the Eighth Hunter Squadron were assigned to provide close air support and intercept any attempts to interfere with the observation aircraft.

((ooc: so, this is a bit of a rambling mess -- hopefully something can be gleaned from it))

[Chrinthanium]

Sydney, Chrinthanium

Far be it from Emperor Nathaniel to balk at the chance to strengthen ties with the British, the request to expand the number of consulates was, without haste, approved the moment it reached his well-polished desk. Certainly the Chrinthani had screamed bloody murder in regards to Japan's inroads into Central America and Asia, citing concerns for less-than-ethical dealings between nations that were either third-world, or bordering on such a classification. The rising tensions between Tokyo and San Diego had not gone unnoticed by the Palace. Furthermore, the Chrinthani remained quiet on the entire issue regarding the Japanese military plane incident--something to which the Chrinthani would never have a reply, at least officially. However, the recent expansion of relations between the British and the Chrinthani wasn't seen as a way for Chrinthanium to protect itself against the inevitable cluster that was to become the Anahuac Civil War--by all accounts well underway at this time--but more as a way to keep the Japanese at arms length.

The crux of the argument from Sydney was the fear of a more militarily capable Japanese Empire. An empire so starved for natural resources that conspiracy theorists in Chrinthanium had already filled terabytes of online information regarding potential military strikes against the resource-rich Chrinthani homeland just how powerful a military response could be mustered with the rather feeble Chrinthani Imperial Defense Force--CIDeF (pronounced see-def) for short. While Chrinthanium could swat away a small force, a moderate or large force was quite the challenge.

Internal documents regarding defense procedures for the Chrinthani homeland suggested that the Chrinthani military could not prevent a significantly larger and/or more powerful force from actually invading. The main defense plan read less like a concise treatise on proper military procedure and more like a nature guide explaining the amount of animals and insects that could kill a human and would give anyone who read it the idea that the Chrinthani put more faith in their natural habitat to protect them than ships, guns, and bombs. As one cheeky member of the Chrinthani Senate said in in 1971, "If they can survive the animals, insects, and desert, then we're screwed."

The idea that the British were attempting to expand relations with the Chrinthani brought with it not just the thought of more holiday-seekers coming down under to tour while much of the British Empire froze, but the idea that, potentially, the British just might be willing to, if the situation presented itself, assist the Chrinthani in defending themselves against the Japanese. Of course, such notions were merely hopes at this point.

Quirinal Palace, Rome

The Romans had remained dead silent on the issues facing Anahuac. As far as the Japanese military plane incident, the Romans issued quite possibly the smallest possible response when Consul-General Alvarez remarked that it was, "tragic" (full quote). As far as the Romans were concerned, Anahuac was nothing to do with them, and there were far more pressing matters much closer to home.

[The Crooked Beat]

Xalapa

Fighting at Xalapa concluded in a spasm of mechanical violence, practically first of its kind in Anahuac's own history, of an almost European character. In a final bid to relieve encircled government troops, the local ADF commander had marshaled nearly a full battalion of Shieldian-made TA-49-520 main battle tanks, most of them covered in an exotic selection of applique armor, and committed them to an all-out assault on MPA blocking positions outside the city. It was an attack supported by nearly every available resource, from howitzers, heavy mortars, dozens of air sorties, to several companies of paratroopers, virtually the only infantry left which was still willing to act vigorously in an offensive manner, mounted in similarly-protected AV62 tracked personnel carriers for close-in defense against an opponent known for its fanaticism in dealing with armor. Heralded by a bombardment as ferocious as any yet seen in a Mesoamerican context, though in spite of that hardly on a scale liable to impress observers familiar with major inter-state warfare, ADF cavalrymen lurched forward in a kind of ragged charge that, for a brief moment, appeared poised to achieve a breakthrough, and which inspired scenes of genuine desperation among Kurosite forward elements. Even an obsolete vehicle like the TA-49-520, so old, poorly-armed, poorly-protected, and primitively-equipped as to be little short of useless in its country of origin, could still act as a very effective battlefield bully where no other tanks were on hand to oppose it.

Force 117, however, offered a stout and determined resistance, and with its recoilless rifles, some captured Tulgarian BANTAM missiles, mines, and an array of improvised weapons, some requiring far more courage to employ than others, knocked-out one enemy machine after another. Very soon, the survivors began to exercise a degree of caution that replaced their initial sense of cavalry dash, and within the space of another bloody afternoon, one deeply painful to both sides, the MPA had managed to secure another battlefield success. By sunrise on the battle’s sixth day, Anthony Kitchen, watching from a camouflaged vantage point as a trailing government convoy, a couple of slat-sided TA-49-570s and locally-modified mineproof trucks, struggled to hack its way through a Kurosite ambush, felt as though he could justifiably claim victory in the battle for Xalapa. In perhaps the war’s most intense battle to date, a Kurosite field force had clashed with Anahuac City’s largest remaining, hitherto uncommitted mobile formation, and had destroyed large portions of its strength at a cost which, though undeniably high, Kitchen knew he could afford. Now, the road to Anahuac City itself appeared open, and it was no longer a question of whether the PRPM would get there eventually, but who would get there first.

That was unless, of course, Fredonia decided to bear down on affairs in Anahuac with its own armed forces, and the PRPM’s nearness to the national seat of government only appeared to make that scenario more probable. Some kind of conflict between Anahuac’s communists and the Gulf States, the Kurosite Central Committee had long ago accepted, was nothing short of inevitable, not least because Edward Lane’s revolutionary ambitions, as all MPA senior field commanders were well aware, were not confined to Anahuac’s borders. At the same time, for all its successes against the ADF, few MPA commanders really believed themselves prepared for an open fight with the Federal Defense Forces, and certainly not while Japan, regardless of whether it intended to withdraw from North America eventually, retained a local presence. If a Kurosite-dominated Anahuac was to ward-off Fredonian depredations, to begin with, and eventually to infringe upon Fredonia’s own borders, it would need, in addition to a completely secure domestic environment, support from abroad. As this could not possibly be obtained in sought-after quantities from the PRPM’s most natural ideological ally, Edward Lane and his Central Committee colleagues were prepared to seek it, alternatively, in California.

It was no coincidence that Lieutenant Topete had been attached to Anthony Kitchen’s Force 117, its captain a man known, among other things, for his even temper, flexibility and diplomatic manner. Stuart Greene, of Force 10, may also have been able to contend with that extra responsibility, had it been deemed prudent to include a foreign observer on an arduous and risky operation such as that assigned to his formation, but for all their ability as field commanders, few of the MPA’s other senior military leaders struck the Central Committee as ideal hosts for a Californian. Some were too bloodthirsty, others too dogmatic, others simply too accustomed to a lifetime of secrecy to host a foreigner, and a foreign military officer no less. Kitchen was under strict orders to show Topete a Kurosite army on its absolute best behavior, and to provide her with every reason to believe that her government’s interests, and those of the PRPM, were in alignment.

Anahuac City

Finally persuaded to leave his operational headquarters, Iorwerth Glodrydd arrived for his first high-level diplomatic engagement as Anahuac’s head of state still dressed in baggy paratroopers’ lizard-pattern camouflage fatigues, peaked field cap stuck on his head at a rakish cant. His newly-awarded Major-General’s rank insignia hung from a button hole on his uniform jacket-front, and a shoulder holster, complete with Beretta automatic pistol, was strapped-in under his left armpit. Whether he wore that particular piece of kit in order to make some kind of impression on the Japanese officer, or simply because he had forgotten to take it off, was a question that Kuribayashi would have to answer himself.

Anahuac’s new leader listened to General Kuribayashi’s unpleasant news with forbearance, seldom changing his expression or posture, and saying very little in return. Certainly, a great deal had been made in public of Japan’s entry into Anahuac’s civil war on the government side, and it would not be easy to explain Tokyo’s about-face, sensible though it was in light of circumstances, to a constituency whose faltering morale had only begun to improve thanks to hopes of that same Japanese intervention. Then again, from a military point of view, and Iorwerth Glodrydd was primarily concerned with matters of a tactical and operational nature, Japan’s withdrawal would not necessarily make things much worse for the ADF than they already were, provided Japanese cash continued to flow. Glodrydd took issue with one point alone, namely Kuribayashi’s request that Anahuac nationals employed by Japanese businesses be allowed to join the evacuation. That particular suggestion, announced Glodrydd in a tone calculated to leave no room for argument, was not one which he was willing to entertain. There could be no prospect of escape, he insisted, none whatsoever, except through victory, and all Anahuac nationals caught in an attempt to flee would be subject to what Glodrydd, offering no additional explanation, referred to as appropriate penalties.

Otherwise, he promised, Anahuac City would cooperate to its full ability with Japanese evacuation plans, though Kuribayashi was cautioned that safe passage overland from Anahuac City to Acapulco, which along with its small garrison of marines and civil guards had been bypassed by Kurosite Force 10, could not be guaranteed.

(OCC: Sorry for the incompleteness of this post. Still a bit left to discuss, but thought I'd put up what I had ready at least. Also, I've been playing it fast and loose with province names, so my apologies for any confusion resulting from that. I've been trying to line things up with this map: http://i1209.photobucket.com/albums/cc3 ... 11c5ed.png

Not one hundred percent sure whether I'll try and keep the arrangement of RL Mexican provinces, and just rename them, or try to work more with the supposed Aztec scheme of things. Metztitlan, anyway, is supposed to be Hidalgo, and if anyone has any questions on specific provinces, I'll be happy to answer them. Also, apparently Acapulco itself is a Nahuatl name, so I will probably just keep that as it is.)

[Nova Gaul]

Anahuac City

General Tadamichi Kuribayashi (retired) was in a foul mood as he had his first meeting with Major General Iorwerth Glodrydd. He did his best to conceal it, but it was obvious he was uncharacteristically sanguine and ready to spit nails over what California had done. Though he did not dwell on the ‘cowardly ambush’ the special envoy could not help himself from launching against several minutes of pure invective against San Diego, labeling it a nation of ‘drug attics and whores, dogs and pigs’, stopping every now and then to smash a fist into his palm for emphasis. He made it clear, in a rather in-between-the-lines way of speaking, that he did not support Tokyo’s decision to evacuate hard and live assets from Anahuac. Pulling a few strings with his comrades in the Imperial General Headquarters, he had even received a special dispensation from (a begrudging) Prime Minister Kiichirō to remain behind and ensure Japanese funds were allocated directly to the Directory.

General Kuribayashi became even angrier over Tokyo’s choice when it became clear just what a hard man Glodrydd was. There is a fellow, he thought, that could crush the rebels and win the war. In his private dispatches to the government, Kuribayashi had called for air strikes against California and ‘not less than two divisions of troops’ to bolster Anahuac City and crush the rebels. Alas that Tokyo had chosen the safer route, confronted by the prospect of a Transpacific war where supply lines would be expensive and, most probably, totally exposed. The uncooperative attitude of the United Gulfs States was unhelpful too, and Japan harbored secret reservations that the United Gulf States would try and use the crisis to their advantage.

Nonetheless the elderly general was able to assure Glodrydd that Japanese funds would continue to flow into the Directory’s coffers and that the empire would do everything in its power to support its allies in Anahuac City. That very day he oversaw a wire transfer which saw ¥1,742,000,000 (about £10,000,000) deposited into the Bank of Anahuac.

“We are going to stand by you General as much as we can,” said an empathetic Kuribayashi. “Unfortunately, at this time, given California’s actions, my government believes it has no choice but to move forward with the evacuation of Japanese civilians and military advisors.” Thereupon Kuribayashi was pleased to learn that the Major General was willing to allow the evacuation, and rather buoyed when Glodrydd basically issued his policy of ‘Victory or Death’ and announced no Directory members or Anahuac nationals would be fleeing the country. On that announcement, which warmed the quasi-fascist special envoy’s heart, Kuribayashi promised the Major General he would himself stay until the end of the crisis ‘whatever that end might be.'

Eastern Pacific—one week later**

General Kuribayashi’s words of encouragement provided little solace for the Japanese who wanted a firmer commitment to Anahuac. The Combined Fleet, symbolically, was initially prepared to crush the rebels and save Anahuac City. It was now being used to evacuation all Japanese civilians and military advisors from Anahuac. Now the fleet, centered around the Imperial Navy’s flagship the light carrier Izumo was just beyond Anahuac’s horizon. True to their word, to both their allies in Anahuac City and their enemies in San Diego, they would execute the evacuation exactly as planned.

The Santa Rosa had been spotted by the Japanese on the final approach to Anahuac, and though it irked the Japanese captains to do so, they gave the Californian vessel a wide berth. They were under strict instructions to get the Japanese nationals out and not cause any problems (‘absolutely no confrontation whatsoever’ in the Prime Minister’s words) with the Californians.

Probably to the surprise of observers the Japanese fleet did proceed south of Acapulco, as Anahuac City had informed. They would attempt to conduct an amphibious landing approximately fifteen kilometers south of Acapulco. According to the plan, Japanese helicopters would shadow six LCAC (Landing Craft Air Cushion) vehicles as they landed in a daring nighttime operation. It would take the LCAC’s several runs from the three Ōsum-class landing ships to get the 51st Light Infantry Regiment and 15th Logistic Support Battalion of the Imperial Japanese Army’s 15th Brigade ashore. It was a dangerous operation, as the area was expected by Directory Intelligence to fall into rebel hands over the next few weeks, but it was critical to effect a quick evacuation. The plan called for the Japanese soldiers to set up a temporary evacuation base on the shore, from there Japanese helicopters would fly to Anahuac City, where they would airlift Japanese civilians to the landing site. The LCACs would then ferry them to the waiting transport ships, thence to be ferried to Oguni-Jima. With the evacuation complete the Japanese troopers would depart, and the fleet would set sail en masse for the Summer Islands. If everything went according to plan, the Japanese could be in and out in less than forty-eight hours.

‘Hard’ air support would be provided by the Imperial navy’s twenty Navy Type 009 Carrier Fighters. And although the fleet had begun flying combat patrols in pairs a week out from Anahuac all Japanese aircraft were instructed to remain in holding patterns offshore unless attacks were made against the evacuation effort. If such attacks did occur, General Kuribayashi would request permission from General Iorwerth Glodrydd for the Japanese to conduct limited airstrikes against the attackers.

Such, then, was the present goal of Operation Number One.

One week later then, shortly after midnight, Operation Number One would commence. The landing site had previously been under intense scrutiny from Japanese satellites, but the site would be scouted again as three Mitsubishi Mi-60N Maritime helicopters (armed aboard the helicopter carrier IJS Ise with ground attack packages) swooped in from the ocean and took up a roving reconnaissance about the landing site. Some fifteen minutes later, in a respectable maneuver, the six LCACs zoomed away from their transport ships and zipped toward the shore.

Operation Number One was underway.

**I know I might be rushing ahead with this move, I just wanted to set things up. If anyone has an objection for me taking this action just let me known and I’ll go ahead and amend it.