The Moon
"I see a bad moon rising, I see trouble on the way, I see earthquakes and lightning, I see bad times today."
In ancient times, man looked up at the moon and believed it had oceans of its own. In reality, these were just vast plains of moon dust, as the atmosphere-free moon could hold no water on its surface without it immediately evaporating. The Goyohan Sea was on of the larger "seas", and had a relatively flat surface - bar the thousands of craters that pockmarked Tiandi's largest natural satellite. The sun-bleached white field stretched as far the eye could see, with hills and mountains in the distance. Somewhere on this plain was the remains of the first human mission to the moon, and the now-bleached white Jeongmian flag. Akitsukuni, never to be outdone, also had their first flag on the moon elsewhere in the Goyohan Sea, also faded white.
A long line stretched its way across the dust plain, led by a tiny speck. Upon closer inspection, if was a lightweight explorer vehicle, a lunar rover. The Jeongmian flag flew from it and two astronauts in their bulky EVA suits, similar to those worn decades ago when man first arrived, sat on the utilitarian bench seats. Humanity was back.
"Will you shut up?" Ahn Yong-Woo was a Jeongmian Navy pilot chosen to join humanity's return to the moon. A true military man.
"No," Kang Hee-Oh was a theoretical physicist who was also chosen to join the moon mission. The fifteenth Jeongmian full-civilian in space.
The rover, helmed by Kang, made its way past a newly-made crater atop a hill, just some several decades old, having been formed after fragments of the passing comet in 1973 broke off and hit the moon. Kang suddenly noticed something and turned the rover towards it, to the protests of Ahn. The rover was solar powered, so there was no danger of running out of battery power anyway. The small black dot amongst the white dust grew into what looked like an opening into the side of the hill.
"It's a cave," Kang said, "didn't think there were caves on the moon."
Ahn shot him an odd expression, invisible under the polarised faceshield they needed to protect themselves from the unforgiving sun. The cave was dark and foreboding, leading downwards under the hill. It was odd, finding a cave in the middle of the Goyohan Sea. Kang took his hands off the wheel. Ahn almost rolled his eyes.
"I'm going to check it out."
"Time's running out. Let's get back."
"I just want to take a look," Kang stepped off the buggy and onto the dusty surface, throwing up a small puff of dust. He began to make the iconic moon jumps towards the cave, the lower gravity allowing for this sort of increased speed. Ahn shook his head beneath his helmet and followed.
The cave was much larger up close. The slope downwards was not as severe as they could see from the rover, and the opening seemed to be partially caved in. Kang turned on his helmet lights and flipped up the polarised lens for increased vision. He peered into the darkness. Ahn came up next to him shortly after. Kang looked at his colleague briefly, smiled, and stepped into the cave's shadow. Their high-beam lights illuminated the underground space as they went deeper into the cave, revealing heavy clouds of dust hanging in the air and craggy walls. Ahn wondered if light had even touched these walls for millions of years.
Then they noticed something odd. There were stalagtites and stalagmites in the cave, structures which required water to form.
"This cave must have been exposed by the meteor impact," Ahn analysed, "it must have been airtight to allow the water that made this to exist."
"I'm going to take a sample," the scientist talked forward towards a stalagmite formation. Suddenly, Ahn grabbed his arm. Kang turned to look. Just a metre away was a massive, yawning pit that he had not noticed in the darkness.
The cave ended at the pit, which seemed more like a cavernous inner part of the cave rather than a sinkhole. The far side and bottom was invisible in the dark, and it could have gone down for kilometres.
"Wow. Wonder how deep it goes," Kang asked nobody. Ahn was waiting impatiently. Kang grabbed a rock off the ground and tossed it into the pit, sailing into the abyss and disappearing from sight, swallowed forever. He stood at the edge and stared in, fear and excitement growing inside.
Suddenly, something odd occurred. Kang turned to Ahn, who also looked confused. There was sound outside of their helmets. A rushing sound, like some kind of wind blowing. Surely an impossibility, unless... The wind grew louder and both men began to feel it. Some kind of gas burst out of the pit, blasting through the cave along with a torrent of dust. Both men turned to run, but Ahn was picked up by the dust wind before he could make it far, tumbling in the air and landing on his back. The bulky equipment backpack made it difficult for him to get up, and he flailed helplessly like an upturned cockroach as the winds blew dust over him, threatening to bury him alive. Kang was also caught in the back, landing on his stomach. He clumsily scrambled to his feet and pulled Ahn out of the dust, rolling him over so he could get up.
"Gas explosion?!" Ahn theorised, eyes wild with terror. Kang shook his head in all directions, teeth clenched
The winds began to subside, but suddenly the ground began to shake. Loose rocks started falling from the ceiling, and a stalactite fell dangerously close to the astronauts. Ahn pushed Kang forward and both began to run towards the entrance of the cave. What was only a few metres felt like kilometres with the disorienting darkness, rocks falling and bizarre winds somehow blowing on the moon. They managed to burst out of the cave just moments before the entrance collapsed on itself, moon dust pouring into the hole followed by an entire section of the crater above falling into it, hiding the cave forever.
Both men stopped to catch their breaths. Oxygen use was off the charts, and both were low on the precious gas.
"That was... Bizarre," Ahn stepped onto the barebones rover, "we need to log this."
"Let's just get back," Kang shook his head again, glancing at the pile of rubble where the cave was.
While the astronauts were safely having their dinner of freeze-dried chicken bulgogi in their lunar module much later, the cave they left behind remained untouched. Only the entrance had collapsed, after all. But deep in the bowels of the cave, what seemed to be subtremors soon shook the entire network. After two hours, they all abruptly stopped.
An odd green-blue light suddenly appeared in the pitch darkness, lighting the deepest cave walls for the first time in millions of years. The subtremors began again.
When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back.
One week later
Ishikari
Akitsukuni
Ishikari, the northernmost major city in Akitsukuni, was located on the northern coast of Tōhoku. The fourth largest in the Empire by population, Ishikari was also the capital of its own prefecture. The city was known worldwide for its alcohol breweries, its Yuki Matsuri, and having hosted the 1972 World Games, also known as the one that half the world refused to take part in thanks to a variety of political issues. Ishikari was also known for its pristine, cold beaches, a favourite amongst tourists all year round.
Near nine in the evening, at a bench next to one of the many piers on the waterfront, young Shinji and his mother sat, the five year old staring in awe at the myriad of lights plying in and out of Ishikari Port, the fifth busiest in the Empire. He could not count them all and complained to his mother. She laughed and patted his head. A few white tourists from Gungju were taking photos down at the beach in the soft glow of the pier lights.
Something caught Shinji's eye. He looked up at the stars, the constellations clearly visible as Ishikari did not produce nearly as much light to make them invisible as Heian did. One star stood out, a bright ball with a long flaming tail behind it. He pointed it out to his mother.
"It's a shooting star. Make a wish, Shinji-kun."
"I wish to count all the boats!"
Arctic Ocean
Fushimi
Ever since the 50s, when Akitsukuni reopened after a decade of isolationism and rejoined the global economic order, the split with the mainland had fluctuated. At times it was wide and even trade ceased, at times it was so close that monarchs visited each others' weddings. Other times it was so wide that the other side could not even be seen, and when the other side was not visible governments and militaries grew concerned. Where would they drop their bombs and missiles? When was the other side going to drop their bombs and missiles?
And so, since 1958, the Empire had run the Arctic Monitor program. A network of spy ships and stations tasked with watching Jeongmi, their naval activities, trade and most importantly their space program. The space race had been in full swing then. In the 21st century, however, the gulf between the Empire and the mainland was not as wide. From the 90s onwards, Arctic Monitor became the victim of relentless budget cuts in the reorganisation of the Imperial Navy into a role of greater global projection. Only its secondary peacetime role saved the ageing network from being fully wiped out by the bottom line, and that role was meteorological monitoring as well as continued eyes on the Jeongmian space program. They also supported the splashdowns of the Akitsukunese space program, which targeted the Arctic Ocean for its emptiness and convenient distance from the Empire.
On board the Fushimi, Arctic Monitor's prized vessel, were a large array of electronic listening devices, sensors and monitoring equipment. Anything that happened in the atmosphere in this hemisphere was caught, though admittedly Arctic Monitor could do nothing about it. The Fushimi was an actual intelligence and SIGINT ship on loan from the Imperial Navy. Most of the other boats in Arctic Monitor were converted civilian vessels.
Two faces glowed in the darkness of the operations room, the heater sputtering away ineffectively in the background along with the whine of computers. Two operators sat at their stations, close to falling asleep. Arctic Monitor watched Jeongmi day and night. Someone had to be watching at night when everyone else was asleep. The one on the left was playing minesweeper on his monitor, the game clearly reflected off his thick glasses. The one of the right huddled in a fur hat and goreseni* jacket, periodically taking sips of cold coffee in a mug that said "I love Haeseon".
Fur hat leaned forward and squinted at his screen.
"Woah, what's this?"
Glasses shrugged and looked over for a milisecond before returning to his game. He hit a mine.
"Probably just a meteor or a reentering satellite. Arjunapur's decomming a lot of old comms satellites from the 80s these days."
The Akitsukuni-aided Arjunapuri space program was picking itself up every year, and old knockoffs of Akitsukunese knockoffs of Jeongmian satellites no longer worked as well as they needed in the modern day. As Arjunapur developed, they also wanted to fix their own global communications gear. Five minutes passed. Fur Hat watched the blip on his screen for all five minutes, the most excitement he had gotten all night, and would get all night.
"Looks like it landed in the ocean."
Glasses lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
"Yeah, probably a decomm job. Log it and call up Arjunapur. Damn call centre dicks. You'd think they'd inform us about this sort of thing."
Two weeks later
Arctic Ocean
The Arctic sun beat down mercilessly on the choppy, iced waters of the north pole. A fishing boat battled the light waves as they struggled to catch valuable Arctic Cod, ever so popular in Sinju, especially in Akitsukuni. A tattered Zaihanese flag hung from the mainmast, while the seawater-soaked deck was host to men in yellow raincoats and life jackets doing various jobs. Nets full of the expensive fish were strewn about. It was almost time to go home, and today would be the last day of dodging icebergs and killer waves. Most of the crew were glad to soon be out of the Arctic circle, though just weeks later the well-paid men would wish to come back and stake their fortune.
Striding across his deck, the Zaihanese captain was a swarthy man in a greatcoat with the yellow raincoat and life jacket worn over it. His full beard was naturally salted, a true man of the sea. He thought he had seen all there was to see on the world's waters, from the Arctic to the Antarctic to the East and West. Back home, he was a rich man as well thanks to his chosen profession. The boat rocked up and down in the water. Things were getting rougher. The captain squinted at the distance. Huge waves were coming.
An order to brace was given out. Everyone was tied to the mainmast for safety and had life jackets, but anything could happen. And everyone knew finding a man in the cold grey waters was damn near impossible even on a bright day like this one. The boat was rocked hard by the first wave, but she rode it out fine. They had all seen worse than this. The second wave was higher, and then the third. The helmsman somehow managed to negotiate the waves. He would be getting a raise.
As the sixth wave passed, the waters became calmer. A roaring sound filled the sailors' ears as, out of the blue, two Su-87 carrier-based fighter aircraft bearing the Akitsukunese red sun suddenly streaked overhead. One of the sailors yelled and everyone turned their attention to the port side, towards the south. There were ships. So many ships.
There were two big ships, the unmistakeable shapes of the Empire's infamous Izanagi-class carrier and Heian-class missile battlecruiser. Arrayed around them were a variety of destroyers and frigates that the captain knew too little about to name, though knew they were all Imperial. He squinted at them. Did they accidentally wander into a training exercise? That had happened more than once before, those Imperials were always having random training exercises in the richest fishing grounds, perhaps too commonly.
There was another yell, from the starboard lookout. Everyone turned around to look behind them, towards the north.
A shadow fell over the boat.
*Goretex