A/N: Next installment has arrived! The end is near for Britannia, and Tokyo will decide its ultimate fate. HOW WILL IT END?
Hell, I don't even know – I think I'll flip a coin.
JUST KIDDING! Maybe.
Regardless of the eventual outcome, here's Act III, Part I. Enjoy!
Part 1 - "Cruising for a Bruising"
November 30th, 2017 ATB
1300 hours
20 miles off the coast of Ibaraki Prefecture, Japan
"This is it…" Captain Gerald Snow of the Royal Britannian Navy breathed joyously, "We're gonna be the first ones into Tokyo!"
His ship, the destroyer HMS Liverpool, had just escorted a column of cargo and troopships across the Pacific to bring supplies to the beleaguered defenders of Tokyo. Dozens of other ships before him had tried – all had disappeared without a trace, their crews never heard from again. Japan had been in isolation for over two months behind the seemingly impenetrable screen of the Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force.
However, two days ago at dusk, Snow had coordinated heavily with scouting planes and other ships to slip his convoy through that screen, which another task group distracted the enemy in his section. They had steamed in from the north, east of Hokkaido, and had taken every precaution possible as they traversed the coastline at a safe distance.
Now, they were barely an hour away from safe port in Tokyo Bay, and the men were breathing sighs of relief.
Until…
"Captain, projectile inbound! It's a sub-launched missile! Impact in twenty seconds!"
"WHAT?" Snow called back in distress. "Counter with CIWS barrage, all batteries! Knock it down!"
"It's directly off our 12 o'clock, the gun crew of the fore batteries can't reach their guns in time!"
"Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT! All sections brace for impact and prepare to fire counter-barrage, there's no way we're coming this far just to die here without a fight!"
"Five seconds… BRACE BRACE BRACE!" A massive explosion rocked the ship as the missile struck just above the waterline, tearing a gigantic hole in the forward port bow. Water flooded the front sections, and the ship immediately began to list.
"SHIT! What's the status on the rest of the convoy? HAVE THOSE IDIOTS PRESSED ON YET?"
"Sir, three o'clock… It's a raiding force! IT'S THE BPG! THEY'RE HTTING THE CONVOY!"
"FUCK!"
"They're coming this way… What the hell? Those are Devora Mk. III fast attack craft, Israeli make!"
"I thought they were Sri Lankan?" another section piped in.
"No, the original design was Israeli. In any case… SNIPERS!" The line went dead as a bloody pop came over, and a body was heard dropping to the deck.
A shot then shattered the front wind screen, and one of the radio operators dropped dead with a gaping hole in the side of his head. A second, and a third came through, the former ricocheting around before smacking into the side of a radar operator, and the latter flew straight and true… Into Snow's face, dropping him instantly.
With the cargo ships, small boats swarmed the waters and hooked onto the ships, their lithe masked riders vaulting over the guardrails and gunning down the soldiers on deck. One by one, the ships were emptied and towed out of line towards the shore, where recovery teams waited with semis and flatbeds.
"I told you they would fall for it!" one of the supervisors, a young white-haired boy nudged his partner, Dmitri Novikov.
"Fine, fine, you had a good idea… This time," the Russian begrudgingly admitted.
The boy, an eighteen year-old named Rai Uzuki, had joined up with the BPG last month in northern Nagano prefecture, claiming that he had run all the way from Ashford Academy in Tokyo to find them. Lelouch, the one he was conveniently addressed, gave the boy a thorough interrogation before proclaiming him legitimate, and offering him a post under Dmitri and his naval raiding forces.
"Man, what is this guy, a jack of all trades?" one of the men had declared upon hearing of the Russian's new post. "Political ambassador, air force pilot, now a sailor? Jesus, by the end of the week, he'll be leading his own goddamned country."
And so, back to the subject, after a few weeks of Rai pitching his ideas at Dmitri, the man had finally agreed to try something – the operation seen here, which had gone off flawlessly from the coordination of the raiders and the cooperation of the JMSDF submarine, JDS Soryu.
"WOO!" Rai crowed happily, pumping a fist in the air and readjusting the AK-47 on his shoulder. "Epic win!"
"Quit being such a damned teenager and hurry up, we need to offload the cargo as quickly as possible," Dmitri grumbled, slamming a fresh drum into his PKM and yanking back the action. "As well as clear out the survivors…"
1500 hours
Saitama Ghetto, Tokyo
"This is it," Naoto spoke gravely, loading up his web gear and selecting a weapon, "The Britannian Army has completely encircled Tokyo and sealed off the Inner Kanto Block. They have declared that none shall breach their defenses; today, ladies and gentlemen, we strike the enemy in their soft underbelly, to make way for our countrymen to take back the rest of our country."
"But Senpai, why are we striking Tokyo, when the SDF and BPG are still at least a prefecture away on all sides?" one of the newer members piped up from the back.
"By striking in the heart of Tokyo and maintaining an assault for long enough, we'll be drawing the army inwards, away from the outer prefectures, in order for the others to close in and draw the noose tight," the redheaded rebel explained calmly. "It may only be displacement, but it'll still help everyone else when it comes down the final attack – a higher concentration, and therefore a higher body count."
He picked out a stolen M416 assault carbine. "Any other questions?" No hands were raised. "Then we'll move from our stations tomorrow at 0300, sharp. Make your final preparations, say your goodbyes, and move to your pre-assigned areas for the last op. After this… It's all up to them."
"HAI, NAOTO-SENPAI! LONG LIVE NEW JAPAN!"
1530 hours
BPG Forward Command, Gunma Prefecture
"I see… And you're absolutely sure of this?" Lelouch paced about the room, his phone resting on a table in the center.
"Yes. Tomorrow at 0300, Naoto Kozuki and his three hundred men are launching an assault on RBA Tokyo."
"Three hundred… How fitting," Lelouch chuckled dryly. "Alright, thank you for the information; I have a group somewhere nearby, I'll send them in immediately."
"That's all I ask." The line went dead, and the boy walked over and snatched up the phone, pressing the first speed dial number.
"… What can I do for you, Commander?" Dmitri's heavily-accented English crackled over the line.
"Colonel Novikov, how far is your raiding force from Tokyo?"
"We're just up in southern Ibaraki, sir. Might I ask why?"
"I need you to take some of your men, infiltrate Tokyo, and get Naoto Kozuki and his men out of there ASAP. They have far too much potential to be wasted on something as pathetic as a glorified suicide run."
"… What's the deadline, Lelouch?"
"Tomorrow, 0300. Can you make it to them before then?"
"I'm afraid not. We need to get the rendezvous point to offload the recovered cargo, refit for further combat, and then the infiltration of Tokyo itself undetected is an excruciatingly tedious process. Since we're moving out right now, my estimate is 0345."
Lelouch growled in frustration. "It'll have to do. Double-time, Dmitri; good men are about to be wasted." Mashing the end call button, he pocketed the phone and stepped out of the room, into the main hall of Maebashi City Hall. The hall itself had been transformed into the BPG's FCC in the area, with ornate tables and armchairs stored away, making room for weapons cases and numerous ammunition crates, with technicians scattered about on computers. One of the Korean radio operators stepped up and saluted.
"Sir! We've confirmed the central Britannian line holding at ten miles inside of the Saitama border, right outside the ghetto. We have confirmation of numerous engineers finishing a defensive wall, fourteen feet high and three feet thick, solid concrete with titanium reinforcement. There's only three checkpoints, and they're all remotely-operated rising barriers, with controls on a closed circuit within the containment area."
"What's the status of the demolition teams?"
"They had to fall back to the main encampment, sir. There are several tanks and Sutherlands scattered at intervals inside the wall itself, taking shots through firing slits and from semi-elevated platforms on the other side of the wall." Several of the coordinators cursed colorfully. Air support was currently grounded, due to the heavy concentration of Triple-A in the area, as well as the presence of several Britannian Naval Air Force squadrons stationed in and around Tokyo.
"Have the ground batteries taken shots at it yet?" He was referring to the several mobile missile platforms in the area.
"Repurposed CIWS cannons on the walls, sir."
"DAMMIT ALL! Fine… Wait for the forces in Nagano to join up with us, and we'll just have to shell the damn thing until it crumbles."
"Affirmative."
1700 hours
Kadena Air Base, Okinawa
The entire city of Kadena, Okinawa had essentially become the central fortress and waypoint of Britannian air and naval forces in the Pacific, next to the Philippines. Since Prince Schneizel and RBA Taskforce 301 had taken refuge on the island over a month ago, things had been relatively quiet in this part of the island prefecture.
Schneizel, in his political cunning and experience, had immediately declared the area to be an integrated sector of the remnants of the country, offering a policy of equality for the duration of the Britannian occupation of the city and base. The local population had been sufficiently pacified by this offer, and thusly, Kadena had seen the lowest volume of insurgency action within a hundred mile radius.
The soldiers within the area, being a mostly hand-picked group of the sons and daughters of the middle and lower class, were also cooperating, living amongst the Japanese of the area with little incident, and providing good business for the local economy.
The Second Prince's prototype aerial battleship, the Avalon, had been the centerpiece of the base for the time, resting in the center of the large area of tarmac and serving as his personal headquarters, although Schneizel enjoyed occasional excursions to take in the scenery.
Now, he was stretched out on the vacant upper deck with a bottle of the area's signature Sake, as well as a large dossier on the most recent military actions over in mainland Japan. This boy, Lelouch Lamperouge, was proving to be quite the effective strategist and tactician, as well as a capable soldier.
Kanon lay prone on the opposite end of the deck, staring down the sights of a CheyTac Intervention M-200 sniper rifle, lauded as one of, if not the most accurate and deadly rifle of its kind in the world. Seven hundred yards away, atop one of the massive hangar complexes, an eight-inch diameter target rested.
He slowly squeezed the trigger, and the rifle snapped as the deadly .408 round flew at subsonic and higher speeds, slamming into the target, just a quarter inch left of dead center. The target itself, an impact explosive, went up in a column of orange flame.
"Still a little off…" the attendant muttered, rising his feet and unloading the empty magazine. He had been re-familiarizing himself with several frontline combat weapons in the last month, and had already gone through several SMGs and light machine guns.
"Don't beat yourself up, Kanon," Schneizel called back off-handedly, "You're an attendant and bodyguard to a prominent politician, not a battlefield mercenary or a soldier."
"Doesn't mean I shouldn't know the tools of all trades," Kanon replied quietly. An NCO jogged on deck and retrieved the rifle, leaving in its place a G-36E assault rifle. Kanon retrieved the new gun and looked it over critically, leaning over a folding table and proceeding to disassemble it. "I must admit, the Germans do have a way with assault weapons," he tossed in distractedly.
"Of course, why do you think we stole so many of them?" the prince tossed another inaccurate situational assessment over his shoulder with a groan. "Why is it that analysts in the homeland try to write up foreign situation reports with nothing but information from the news and internet?"
"Because they have no desire to talk to the people who are actually dying from misinformation." Kanon finished putting the gun back together, and set it aside with a recovered MP5MOD6 and a Glock 21 pistol. "So many wonderful weapons and none of them are ours… What does that say about us?"
"That we've grown overly reliant on the technology that we looted from our conquests, and the closest definition to "original" in Britannia is stolen before actual production." He opened up a new report from one of the actual frontline Britannian commanders and burst out laughing, sliding the file across the deck to Kanon. "It's good to see that the men who are fighting still have a sense of humor regarding their situations." The attendant picked up the file and flicked through it, chuckling amusedly at some of the descriptions of the upper echelons.
"Indeed." He tossed it back into the box at Schneizel's side and finished loading up a combat pack and web gear. "So Your Highness, do you have any intentions of actually attempting to assist Princess Cornelia before Tokyo falls?"
"Yes, yes, we'll be sending a few units her way… But in all honesty, I'm content with waiting until the mainland falls and surrendering peaceably to the BPG when they arrive."
"How do you know that it'll be the BPG to strike here when the JSDF are furthest south?" Seconds after this question, a trio of matte black MD-500 light attack choppers flew overhead, their undersides bearing silver stylized vultures. "Oh."
"Yes, they've been drilling overhead all day – you honestly haven't noticed?"
"I could barely hear anything over the machine guns."
"… You stopped firing the machine guns over three hours ago, Kanon," Schneizel informed hesitantly.
"Well then if you'll excuse me, I'll be heading down to the medical bay to get my hearing checked."
December 1st
0255 hours
RBA Tokyo, South Gate
A line of vehicles waited outside the gates of the Royal Britannian Army Base at Tokyo, moving slowly due to maximum security checks – full vehicle inspection, as well as DNA identification and full x-ray and cavity searches of the entrants.
Nineteen year-old Saito Mitsutake drummed idly on the steering wheel of the semi, glancing back occasionally to check on the truck's other occupants – Twenty armed-to-the-teeth guerillas and two Heavy Assault Burai. Scattered throughout the line were five other trucks, carrying a total of eighty more infantrymen, eight more Burai, and a prototype Japanese Type 10B tank, equipped with a pair of 60mm rail guns in place of the main cannon. Retractable support struts had also been added to the back, to compensate for the recoil – unfortunately, the recoil meant that the guns couldn't be fired on the move without tossing around the tank and its occupants a bit.
'Five minutes till go time…' he mentally noted, also taking note that it would be around this point that he would reach the front of the line. He stared up at the sky and noted six AH-6D Little Bird light attack choppers making the rounds. 'Good, they've worked themselves into the pattern, right on schedule.'
The other soldiers and drivers waited in the same anxious silence, double, triple and quadruple-checking weapons and equipment. Everyone clutched their weapons like a lifeline, and several passed around saucers of Sake while saying their individual prayers.
0259. Everyone had a saucer clutched in their gloved hands, and had finished their prayers. Taking one last swig to drain the remainder of the rice wine, they smashed the thin clay vessels on the floor.
Down with Britannia… Long live New Japan!
Saito pulled up to the checkpoint and rolled down the window as a bored-looking Britannian soldier walked up. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to exit the vehicle for inspection…"
0300.
Saito whipped out his MP5 and shoved the barrel in the soldier's face. "DIE, BRITANNIAN DOGS!" He squeezed off a long burst and quickly sprayed the checkpoint before ducking down in the cab, narrowly avoiding the returning volleys that smashed the windscreen.
The troops in the back smashed the release switches for the cargo doors, and the Knightmares and tank rolled out first, destroying any military vehicles in sight as the infantry poured out and started firing at army personnel.
Overhead, five of the six Little Birds turned on the odd man out, and three of them hosed down the poor clueless pilot with their M134 miniguns. Once it had crashed into the tarmac, the choppers moved on and scattered about the base, selecting targets and setting to work pulverizing the facilities and exposed troops.
0259
RBA Tokyo Mess Hall
For the two-thirds of the Tokyo garrison that didn't live in the Government Bureau, the Command Center and Mess Hall at the other end of the tarmac was the place to be. Everyone flying in could be dropped instantly, and more people and weapons went through this building than the armory would ever see.
A few guard squads were gathered around a particular returning company, who were showing off recovered Japanese and Russian assault weapons.
"And here, ladies and gentlemen, we have the most reliable assault rifle in the world – it takes mud! It takes water! It takes dirt! And it'll still punch a hole in the other guy's chest!" one of the men announced grandly, as though selling a car. A few of the men laughed, and one of them stepped forward.
"Hey, can I have a look?" he asked.
The man with the rifle looked down as his watch beeped – 0300.
"Sure! Hey, how's about a fire sale, everybody!" he called to his comrades. The men and women nodded in understanding, and raised their weapons. "FIRE!"
The rifles chattered and shredded every single true Britannian soldier in the room, including the kitchen staff. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how we do a fire sale in Japan. The bullets are on us!" the same man declared, humorlessly. "Or rather, they're in you."
A half-dressed NCO stumbled in drunkenly, and blinked in shock as three dozen weapons were snapped straight towards him; he was dispatched from behind by the butt stock of an AK-103 and an execution shot to the back of the head.
"NIPPON BANZAI!" the new arrival declared, thrusting his rifle in the air.
"NIPPON BANZAI!" The troops split into assault groups and headed for their designated targets; in the barracks, motor pool, and aerodrome, other groups would be doing the same.
Same time
Barracks 6-B
"I TOLD you to hit the showers at the same time, or else they would hear the gunfire!"
"They're in the fucking showers, how the hell was I supposed to know that they would actually be armed?"
"Because we're all goddamned soldiers, therefore we all live by the same principle of CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"
The captain and his First Sergeant were duking it out over the bodies of dead and bare Britannian soldiers, whose blood was running into the drains. The other dozen or so men in the area with them were shaking their heads, several still in the process of getting dressed.
One of the men finished pulling on his vest and clapped both men on the shoulders. "Ladies, you're both beautiful – now shut the fuck up so we can get moving." The two squabbling soldiers turned and glared at their comrade, only to realize that the rest of them were glaring impatiently.
A Britannian soldier ran into the room, only to be shot on an afterthought by one of the insurgents beside the door. This served the break the tension, oddly enough, as they exchanged final glares and harsh remarks before heading for the exits.
"Idiots…" one of the men muttered; he whipped his head to the right to avoid a pistol round. "HEY!"
"Shove it and get to work," the captain growled. It was then that a certain feisty redhead entered, toting an MG-36 and looking rather put-off.
"Quit the fucking pissing contest and do your goddamned jobs before I relieve you both!" Kallen Kozuki swore, gesturing with the hefty machine gun in her arms. The captain and his second paled dramatically, and nodded hurriedly. With another gesture of the MG, they were off in a blink. "Macho idiots…" she growled under her breath, slinging the gun's strap back across her shoulders and pressing on into the hallway.
By this point, their end of the base was alive with activity; most of it was combat. The single tank that they had brought was holed up behind an impromptu three hundred and sixty degree barrier, which consisted of a ring of four-foot high concrete barriers, with riflemen ducked behind them. The Type-10B sat in the center, the ground around it shaking with every volley from its twin 60mm rail guns. The turret rotated towards the air traffic control tower, and before anyone could blink, the reinforced structure had been bisected diagonally by a pair of supersonic shells.
An Abrams rolled around the corner of a bunker, its own gun turning towards the Japanese machine; it fired once, but the shell arced just over the rear of the tank. The 10B's guns rotated to face it, and it completely blew away the turret from the rest of the tank, as well as tearing a large rip straight through the lower body. The Abrams could barely pass for scrap.
"Commander, we need to move on from this sector and press the offensive down the tarmac!" a radio operator called out to the tank commander. Naoto nodded in consent, and the rear struts rose back onto the tank; the Type 10 then rolled straight over the concrete barrier immediately in front of it, partially crushing it in the process.
"They're setting up tank traps further up!"
"Well then get the engineers and the Burai up there and get rid of them!"
0315
"Well, that was a lot faster process then I expected…" Rai muttered as he passed through the wrecked gates of the RBA Tokyo north checkpoint on a Suzuki dirt bike, his AK-47 slung across his back. As it turns out, it's fairly simple to infiltrate a city that was under siege from the inside.
"Alright, let's find the action." He zipped around the area, swerving through the wrecks of vehicles and occasionally pulling some tricks off of a series of impromptu scrap metal ramps. He passed through several groups of Japanese guerillas, decked out in full combat gear and advancing on foot in the direction of greatest fighting. Several more of the lesser guerilla groups must've joined them in the process of preparation and first strike, since unless there were more to the rear than at the front, there was definitely a greater number here than three hundred; perhaps only four hundred, but most definitely greater than three.
The odd part was that no one attempted to stop him as he rode straight through; he would've thought that for all of the praise given to this particular group for training, someone would've stopped to at least ask for his name and unit.
He shrugged; it just made his job easier. After all, if no one even knew he was the messenger, they would be even less likely to shoot him.
He finally approached a tank from the rear… Which in hindsight, was an extremely bad idea, seeing as the hundred-ton death machine was currently planted in place, firing glowing blue projectiles from a pair of cannons with enough recoil to send anyone not secured on it flying back several dozen yards; it also carried the standard three-MG complement, one of which was quickly trained on him.
"You there! Identify yourself!" someone called out over the tank's PA. Rai flashed the emblem on his beret at the turret's cameras, and the firing of the gun quickly ceased. The top hatch opened up, and a redheaded man of twenty-something jumped out with a disgruntled expression.
"What the hell is the BPG doing here?" he grunted, taking a swig from a canteen, "Last I heard you guys were still a prefecture away."
"Technically, we are, but the Commander sent a detachment out as a naval raiding force, and well… Semantics," Rai shrugged. "In any case, Lelouch wants you guys to cut this shit out and go home."
Naoto's brow rose… and rose higher… and then the other one… and before Rai knew it, the man looked like he was ready to shoot the messenger. 'I told Dmitri that I AM NOT A GOOD MESSENGER!' the boy shouted mentally, reaching around slowly for the comforting firmness of the classic walnut grip of his AK.
The eldest Kozuki was absolutely seething with rage at this boy's outlandish demand. "… I don't really need to launch into a huge rant on how utterly ridiculous that request is, right?" Seeing the boy's nod, he then proceeded to drain his canteen and chuck it as hard as possible at Rai's head – to which the boy raised his AK and shredded the metal container.
All activity around them froze; all guns were turned and trained on Rai.
"How's about you DON'T SHOOT THE GODDAMNED MESSENGER AND LISTEN TO ME!" the teen roared, his rifle held high in his right hand, while his left clenched a fragmentation grenade. The troops in the vicinity froze up, and the standoff progressed up to the point that Rai held the grenade's pin between his teeth, until Naoto finally called for everyone to stand down. Then, looking between the redhead and the live grenade in his hand, Rai spit out the pin and used an impressive hook throw to lob the frag over a hundred yards into a wrecked bunker, all while maintaining a sheepish grin. "I just hate not being taken seriously…" he chuckled, all the while loading a fresh clip to replace the empty one in his rifle.
"Anyways, this attack is pointless." Before any of the guerillas could protest, he pulled out another frag and stared at them all daringly, "Because Cornelia no longer cares about holding Japan."
The soldiers froze, and Naoto was shocked. "What? Why not?"
"Because the Britannian public no longer supports the Area system," Rai replied smoothly. "Three quarters of the Britannian populace is calling for the Emperor to step down for a better-suited successor; and there is no doubt that Cornelia herself is planning a coup d'etat." He boldly walked forward, and perched himself on the edge of the tank. "She's already opened up negotiations with Lelouch and Katase; the enemy soldiers in the prefectures outside of Tokyo are all warmongers and pure-bloods. Plan is, we wipe them out; have one last big battle at Tokyo; and Cornelia goes home with her head held high to depose her father, if someone hasn't done so already."
The Japanese insurgents really didn't know how to react to this. Naoto was completely baffled.
"Umm…"
"So, might I suggest that we again, get the hell out of here?" Rai asked bluntly, shoulder his weapon and pointing to the reforming Britannian lines several hundred meters away. His point was emphasized as a 105mm Howitzer shell landed directly in front of the Type 10B.
"Yeah… Let's get out of here," one of the men concluded, slowly drawing back and jumping into an appropriated Humvee. One by one, his comrades followed him, and before they even knew it, all that remained was the tank and Rai's bike.
"… Well that was easier than I expected," the white-haired boy whistled in appreciation. "I guess I should probably go and intercept the boss before he goes through the trouble of busting through the barricade with the convoy."
"Lelouch sent a whole taskforce?" the redheaded leader exclaimed.
"Nah, we were just in the neighborhood," Rai replied dismissively. "Woulda just been me if Dmitri wasn't the ranking officer in this sector; plus, we were expecting to have to cover a retreat or something like that."
"You might have to," Naoto gulped, pointing to the front. Rai turned and looked, and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head as a formation of Abrams tanks, supported by an apparent platoon of Sutherlands and Gloucesters, charged straight at them. The tank's gunner charged up the guns once more, and blasted straight through the two lead tanks; that was until they started firing back.
Rai wordlessly took his phone from his pocket, and dialed a peculiar eight-digit number. "Voskod Squadron, you have permission to engage ground targets in Sector Tango-Sierra; terminate enemy armor on Vector 210 Sierra-Whiskey." Static reined for a long moment before a reply came.
"… Roger, Papa-Zulu; any particular preference for a deterrent?" the apparent flight lead called back.
"You're equipped with the Nevada-Charlie solution, right? Deploy it straight across the tarmac, put up a barrier for us." Rai snapped the phone shut. Exactly fifteen agonizing seconds later, as the tanks and Knightmares grew closer and closer, the roar of jet engines swept across the base; A formation of four F-35Cs ripped through the skies barely three hundred feet from the ground, and one dropped a UGB into the advancing spearhead, ripping the machines to shreds, and cratering the runway. Similar explosions bloomed across the entire length of the area, and then the planes broke formation and swept away.
However, before leaving the scene, one of the planes circled back and dropped a canister off to one side of the tarmac; everyone assumed it to be a miss, until the canister opened up and released several dozen bomblets, which then began to burn upon contact. Solution Nevada-Charlie, aka: Napalm C.
In this moment of reprieve, the Type 10 retracted its struts and turned tail to run; Rai, displaying impressive upper body strength, hefted his bike and used the raised struts as a storage rack, jumping onto the back of the tank and resting atop the turret.
The boy flipped his phone open again and speed-dialed his boss. After two rings, an angry Russian voice replied loudly.
"RAI! I told you to check in twenty minutes ago! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"
"Boss, I'm not going to update you on the situation until you stop fucking yelling at me!" Rai snapped back. A deep breath was heard over the line.
"Fine. Second Lieutenant Rai Uzuki, what do you have to report?"
"That's better. See how easy that was, Dmitri?" the boy taunted in a chiding voice.
"How about I try something else? Give me a damned report before I put YOU on report," the Russian growled.
"Alright, alright… I've made contact with Kozuki; I updated him on the current national situation, and his troops are in full withdrawal, with the Britannians in no condition to pursue. Translation: You can go home, and I'll wrap things up here."
"Your tone is bordering insubordinate, boy…"
"I meant the statement in the simplest and most direct manner possible, Colonel," the boy hissed back. "Now please, I advise that you take my report and conclusion under careful consideration, and go home to a nice bottle of vodka." He clicked the phone shut before Dmitri's indignant and outraged retort could come through, while the boy himself was seething. "Arrogant bastard! Why Lelouch took him as his second, I'll never fucking know…"
Naoto was still perched in the commander's cupola, listening to the loud conversation over the grinding of the tank's treads on the tarmac. In the time, they had reached the southern checkpoint, through which the bulk of his forces had already escaped, and were bound once more for Kanagawa Ghetto, which was now being militarily and physically sealed off.
0330 hours
Kanagawa Ghetto, Naoto Kozuki's Central HQ
See, the entirety of the central Tokyo Concession was built over the ruins of the old, and secured via a series of interlocking plates, with each plate being a square kilometer in surface area. The entire system of plates was secured to the higher-elevated terrain on all sides of the designated area, which basically consisted of the Tokyo area, and half of each of the prefectures on all sides.
As the Type 10 rumbled over the imperceptible boundary line between the plates, it rolled to a stop, and Rai looked questioningly at the redhead.
"What's going on?"
"You'll see," Naoto grinned back. "BLOW IT, BOYS!"
Straight across the plate boundaries between Tokyo proper and Kanagawa, shaped charges planted at strategic intervals blew away any exterior connectivity that might hold the plates together; within moments of this, a great fissure seemed to split along the same lines.
In actuality, sympathetic Honorary Britannian soldiers had seized the sector's plate control center, and had the operators purge the connections. And so, the giant three hundred meter-thick slabs of heaviest layered metals split apart, with the plates on the Tokyo side falling in and creating a slope, whereas submerged supports kept the Kanagawa side standing. The rebels within the ghetto let out a massive cheer, and were joined by the residents. The Britannians could do nothing but watch as the closest facsimile to a new state was created within their very settlement; and the military was incapable of retaliation, as any acts of aggression would be seen as indiscriminate violence against a sector full of civilians.
The analysis was unanimous – it was probably the cleanest state formation history had and would ever see. And no one had the argument to support any accusations of cowardice for hiding behind noncombatants.
Rai was in awe as he processed the implications. "Kozuki, you ingenious sonovabitch…"
Naoto was cracking up in amusement at the reactions, as well as self-satisfaction. "That worked out way better than I expected."
"Well," Rai sighed tiredly, "I'm afraid I must be off. Fortunately, however, I can report to the nearest OP instead of straight to Dmitri, since his was my last assignment directly with him." He removed the bike from the tank's struts and kick-started it. He was about to ride off, but Naoto placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey," he said hesitantly, "… I need you to do me a favor. Well actually, it's a favor for my sister, Kallen."
"… I'm listening," the boy replied slowly.
"Well, with this engagement, we're really not going to be seeing any active combat; but see, Kallen's really antsy with having to just sit and watch, and she's expressed a great interest in joining up with the BPG, if only on a temporary basis until Japan is freed."
"So you want me to take her with me?"
"… As much as it pains me to say it, yes," Naoto groaned. "But if I hear about any funny shit, it's your ass, buddy!"
"Right, right," Rai conceded, raising his hands in submission. "Well, where is she? I'm on a deadline before the Russian actually drags my ass back himself."
Naoto turned and gave a shrill whistle, as well as calling out, "KALLEN! Your ticket's here!"
A head of red, the same shade as the elder male, bobbed through the crowd of assembled rebels. Partway through, the person clearly became impatient, as people were quickly shoved aside. The last man (who as look would have it, wasn't Tamaki,) was drop-kicked out of the way.
Rai's first impression – 'Oh Kami help me…'
"Alright, pipsqueak, let's get moving!" Kallen Kozuki grunted, hopping onto the back of the bike. Rai knew better than to protest, simply from the pitying looks he was getting from the guerillas. He revved the bike, and then headed off for the western exit of the ghetto, headed for Gunma.
0400 hours
Government Bureau, Viceroy's Office
"I hate my job…" Cornelia sighed, massaging her temples as she leaned on the balustrade of her office's balcony, watching the flames burn on the tarmac below. The Napalm had been burning for roughly forty minutes, and it showed no signs of dying down. They had tried throwing water; it seemed to burn higher. They tried smothering it; it burned everything it touched, no exceptions. The chemical warfare specialists had circled the flames in a sort of science-nerd fascination, examining the burning compote and taking samples from the cooler patches. Analysis and lab tests had declared it to be a newer version of Napalm, which incorporated a fuel that was apparently capable of breaking the bonds between oxygen and hydrogen in water, and utilizing one while expelling the other. It would burn out eventually; but for now, they were forced to try and work around it.
It was easier said than done to "work around" a hundred meter-long by five meter-tall strip of fire that clung to just about anything.
"Viceroy Cornelia," her secretary's voice broke her from her thoughts, "Colonel Guilford and General Darlton are here with a prisoner."
"Send them in," Cornelia called back. A minute later, the pair entered the lavish office with a young Japanese woman of twenty slung between them.
"This woman here is Naomi Inoue, one of Naoto Kozuki's insurgents; she's apparently fairly close to him," Darlton grunted, gesturing for Guilford to set her down on the couch. The former knight complied, but stood near her, his arms folded with an impassive expression. The blue-haired woman was admirably defiant, but anyone could see that it was a façade to disguise her fear and regret.
"So, Miss Inoue," Cornelia stood and walked around to the front of her desk, her eyes never leaving the poor trembling girl, "What purpose did Naoto have in attacking Tokyo?"
Inoue was still shaking, though she was also apparently in deep thought. Finally, she took a deep breath, "W-we were trying to draw the Britannian forces back into Tokyo and give the BPG and the JSDF more leverage in the outer prefectures."
The Viceroy-General's brows rose into her hairline. "Quite clever… But was he unaware of the arrangements I myself have already made with both of said factions?"
"Yes, he did not know of them until a BPG messenger caught up and told us to break off engagement," she admitted. "But I was wounded during the retrograde movement, and thusly captured, so I'm unaware of what happened next."
"Well then, let me fill you in," the princess perched on her desk, folding her arms under her bosom, "Kozuki retreated into the Kanagawa Ghetto, and somehow managed to infiltrate the plate control facilities sufficiently to collapse the plates between the main settlement and said ghetto."
"Then the plan worked!" Inoue declared, overtaken by joy and relief. Cornelia's eyes narrowed, but she remained silent until the girl finished wiping away her tears.
"Regardless of previous arrangements, though, you are required to be tried as an insurgent responsible for the deaths of Britannian military operatives." Inoue's relief turned back to horror. "However, seeing as you willing turned over this information outside of interrogation, the sentence will not be death, I can assure you that much – imprisonment at the most."
"And that is just SO much better!" she slumped back.
"Yes, but I hold the right to pass sentence personally, seeing as I bore witness to the entire scenario," Cornelia grinned slyly. Inoue's expression shifted to confusion and mistrust. "You will be sent to the Yokosuka Prison and kept under minimum security; I'll trust you not to escape, seeing as how the JSDF is patrolling the coastline daily, suspected to be preparing for an assault." The girl then understood what the princess was getting at, and grinned back.
"Oh, you can trust me, Your Highness," she drawled sarcastically.
"Right… Guilford, I'm entrusting you to get her to Yokosuka," she then turned to the colonel, who simply nodded and, gesturing for Inoue to follow, left the office. Cornelia was slightly hurt at the coldness, but shrugged it off and addressed Darlton. "Get in contact with my brother on Okinawa and ask him about his chosen date for his first run." The general nodded, and left for the communications center.
0430 hours
Kadena Air Base, Okinawa
Schneizel el Britannia was a man of dedication and diligence. When he had an assignment or a goal, it would be prepared for and carried out with the absolute highest level of detail and fullness in preparation and execution. That was in most cases, anyway.
At the moment, he had rolled out several strips of astro-turf on the deck of the Avalon, and was putting a few rounds with the night watch officers.
Kanon jogged onto deck with a commlink, and passed it off to the blond prince once he had taken his shot – hole in one. "General Darlton of Cornelia's staff, asking for your ETA, Your Highness."
"Ah, Andreas!" Schneizel greeted warmly, leaving on his club and settling the phone in the crook of his neck, "What can I do for you?" A formality, of course.
"Your Highness, Princess Cornelia would like to know the date and time at which you'll begin your first run for the mainland," Darlton said impassively.
"Ah yes, the run…" he managed to disguise the slight tone of reluctance, "We'll be ready to move out in two days, at 0700 hours. Is this time satisfactory?"
"Quite so, Your Highness. I've been informed that Taskforce 324 is going to be making their run for Ibaraki at roughly the same time, so hopefully the simultaneously assaults will split their attention."
"Wonderful! We'll launch at the appointed time, and hopefully we'll be able to make it into Tokyo to relieve my dear sister by the end of the day." Schneizel then disconnected the link without waiting for a response, and passed the device back to Kanon as the division commander, Major General Ethan Thompson, smoothly shot a hole-in-one from across the deck.
"So then we have to leave?" the thirty year old man (the youngest with his rank) whined childishly.
"Unfortunately so, General," the prince also sighed disappointedly. "We'll be traveling with all equipment, to maintain appearances; and if we're entirely engaged, we'll be forced to retaliate in full."
"Well, it was fun while it lasted…" the officers lamented.
0700 hours
Yoron Jima (satellite of Kagoshima Prefecture), Amami Islands
To most after the initial invasion, Yoron Island was a massive rock covered in foliage, with no remaining signs of civilization other than an airstrip after the resorts had been seized by the Britannians and later destroyed in various terrorist attacks. However, if those people were to look at the edge of the foliage on the northeast side, they might see something entirely different…
Such as a secret JSDF submarine base.
This base had actually served as the primary headquarters of the JMSDF's surviving and newly-constructed attack submarines for the last seven years, under the command of fifty-eight year old Rear Admiral Kobayashi Yamata. The old man had a nearly stereotypical long, whispy grey-white beard, and long, finely-kempt hair of the same color, held up in a single bun at the back of his scalp.
Seventeen attack subs now made up his fleet, his personal raiders against the Royal Britannian Navy. On top of this, he also commanded a detachment of eight SH-60J helicopters, and a flight of four F-35Cs, valued for their turbofan vertical takeoff and omnidirectional movement capabilities. To top it off, the base was occupied by a battalion of seasoned MSDF sailors and security personnel, as well as a company of Special Boarding Unit soldiers.
Lately, it had also become home to an ASDF electronic intercept team, which served to monitor communications between the Britannian detachment on Okinawa and mainland Japan.
An Air Force runner rushed through the hallways, running towards the command center with a printed version of Darlton and Schneizel's conversation in hand. He reached his destination in record time, and passed it off to Yamata, who stood on the balcony overlooking the dry docks. The aging admiral accepted the paper with a light smile, which grew exponentially as he read the intercept.
"Bring me Captains Ishikawa, Morimoto and Konbei."
Captain Marcus Ishikawa – formerly Chief Petty Officer Ishikawa, promoted after his destroyer's captain had been murdered by a turncoat during the invasion. When the destroyer itself had been scuttled upon return to port, and the entire crew forced into a massive firefight with Britannian soldiers on the docks, Marcus and several other crew members had made a last-ditch dive into the icy waters of Tokyo Bay. Before succumbing to shock, they had been retrieved a friendly submarine, the JDS Kenryu, and later used to bolster the missing and dead crewmen. Seven months later, Ishikawa was commanding the Kenryu.
Captain Tosen Morimoto – formerly Vice-Admiral Morimoto, the ranking officer of the SBU. When the majority of his original unit off of Ibaraki had been lead into a trap aboard a fake Russian freighter, and either captured or wiped out, he had jumped straight from the bridge of the sinking JDS Kongo into the icy waters of the Pacific with his personal staff, and been picked up by the submarine Hakuryu.
Captain Masaharu Konbei was the only legitimate surviving Captain in the bunch, having commanded the JDS Unryu for the last twelve straight years. He and his crew had been in charge of an underwater minefield sixty miles southeast of the Mie Prefecture's coast, and had been ambushed by a platoon of Portman Knightmares. The sub had feigned flooding through use of a prototype dreadnought protective shell, allowing the outer layer to be breached, and sinking straight to hit the bottom of the sea. They had then sat there, idly and silently, for six straight hours, essentially freezing the inside of the ship and not speaking a word as they were painstakingly examined by Britannian divers. When the Portman frames had left, and divers attempted to enter the ship, they were shot upon entry, and the sub had then come to life, sinking two destroyers and an amphibious assault ship during their escape to their base at Yoron Island.
Now, these three men, along with the absent commander of the Soryu, made up a corps of the Maritime Self-Defense Force known as the Shinshin no Kaze no Gekido, the Fury of the Four Divine Winds. Each captain commanded one of the branches, which consisted of the hardest, most experienced and talented raiders of the MSDF. These soldiers had survived the invasion, and for the last seven years, relentlessly battered Britannian naval forces all over the Pacific, even once going so far as to blow a hole in the side of a Britannian aircraft carrier… In Pearl Harbor!
And now, the Four Winds were being called out all together for only the second time – to capture Schneizel el Britannia, the second prince of the Britannian Empire.
"I've only called you here as a formality, to deliver your ultimate objective," Yamata spoke slowly, resting in an armchair on the balcony, his fingers steepled in front of his face. "It is up to you to decide how it is carried out. I have the utmost faith in your abilities, gentlemen," the old man smiled slightly, "After all, I taught each of you myself."
The three men were each kneeling, a fist planted on the ground, and their heads bowed reverently. "Hai, sensei," they intoned.
"I would advise, however, that you contact the Shinozaki Clan for support."
They each stiffened in unison, their minds turning to their fourth member… Captain Momochi Shinozaki, the thirty-sixth director to the Shinozaki School of Martial Arts.
0730 hours
Ashford Academy
Sayoko Shinozaki seemed to be an ordinary maid, as well as the attendant to Nunnally Lamperouge. She was currently preparing a simple Western breakfast of pancakes and bacon… Until she threw the spatula with enough velocity to bury the head three inches into the wall.
The person who had previously occupied the space stepped out from behind the refrigerator, arms folded. Any discernible features were hidden by a hood, which cast a shadow over the top half of his face.
Sayoko reached up to the back of her head and retrieved a kunai knife, throwing it with twice the force of the spatula – the stranger stepped aside a very precise distance, and snatched the handle of the iron knife an instant before it touched the wall.
"What would the Ashfords say about you doing all of this damage, Sayo-chan?" the person taunted in an indiscernible voice. However, the Japanese maid seemed to recognize it.
"… Momo-kun?" she edged cautiously, a second knife slipping slowly from her hand. The individual nodded wordlessly, and the kunai clattered to the tile floor as she dashed forward with unbelievable speed and wrapped her arms around them.
"It's been too long, nee-chan."
"H-hai, it has, onii-san," she stuttered, pulling herself against his coat tighter. They stood silently for a long while, reveling in each other's presence. Until the man pulled away, looking down at his younger sister sadly.
"I'm not coming back after this one," he declared tonelessly. "The Dragon of the Sky's wings have grown old and feeble."
"You're barely forty!" Sayoko replied.
"Ah, but my vessel is a part of me," he chuckled humorlessly. "And she is a relic of a bygone era. After this battle, I will be obsolete… And as such, I will simply… Fade away," he emphasized with a smooth sweep of his hand. "War makes you old, Sayo-chan.
"But then why don't you just take up the school?" she demanded, tears welling up in her eyes.
"I've given the school everything I have to offer. Forty years in the shadows, whether it be in the city or under the sea… I'd like to live the rest of my life in my own little patch of light, until I slip away to wherever I will go." He thumbed away a stray tear from her eye, "The school is waiting for you, sister. You will instruct the next generation, and then, you shall bear the next generation. Your children shall take up the mantle, and if you decide not to bear any, then our nieces and nephews shall take over."
"You're always concerned over business…" the younger woman wept quietly. "What about the rest of the family, huh? What about your family?"
He smiled softly. "They're coming with me. I couldn't just live my life alone, now could I?" he chuckled humorlessly. "We'll see each other again someday… And maybe I can meet my brother-in-law." Despite the current circumstances, Sayoko couldn't fight down a blush as her brother chuckled again and pulled away. "I'll see you again, someday." He kissed her forehead and then stepped back, offering a two-fingered salute before back-flipping out the window.
'Stay safe… Momochi-kun.'
December 2nd, 2017 ATB
1400 hours
Luzon, Philippine Islands
Britannian Naval Taskforce 324, made up of two aircraft carriers, three amphibious assault carriers, five cruisers, and six destroyers, along with numerous smaller support and troopships, was preparing to set out towards the assembly point, where they would take on additional troops and aircraft from other taskforces before making a run for the east coast of Japan.
Fleet Admiral William Halsey looked upon the force with pride, having personally selected each ship.
"Admiral, we're preparing to get underway," one of the bridge officers reported, saluting.
"Excellent; make for the harbor entrance and move out to sea," he ordered. Then, suddenly, the bridge was bathed in red light as warning alarms blared.
"INCOMING MISSILES!"
"BEGIN PHALANX FIRE!"
"WE CAN'T GET THE SYSTEM UP IN TIME! BRACE FOR IMPACT!"
The entire area shook as a trio of UGM-84 Harpoon missiles struck key ships in the flotilla – Halsey's flagship, the carrier HMS Queen Victoria; an amphibious assault ship; and one of the heavy cruisers. All three ships were scuttled as the missiles penetrated the topside decks and detonated at the waterline. In all, Taskforce 324 would be sufficiently delayed until the new chain of command was established – Schneizel was going into hostile waters, alone.
End Part 1
Technical Profile – Soryu-class Submarine
Displacement:
Surfaced: 2,900 tonnes (2,854 long tons)
Submerged: 4,200 t (4,134 long tons)
Length:
84.0 m (275 ft 7 in)
Beam:
9.1 m (29 ft 10 in)
Draught:
8.5 m (27 ft 11 in)
Propulsion:
1-shaft 2× Kawasaki 12Ｖ 25/25 SB-type diesel engines diesel-electric
4× Kawasaki Kockums V4-275R Stirling engines
3,900 hp (2,900 kW) surfaced
8,000 hp (6,000 kW) submerged
Speed:
Surfaced: 13 kn (24 km/h; 15 mph)
Submerged: 20 kn (37 km/h; 23 mph)
Range:
AIP endurance (est.): 6100 nautical miles (11297.2 km; 7060.75 miles) at 6.5 knots (12 km/h; 7.48 mp/h)[1]
Test depth:
900', 1000' crush
Complement:
65 (9 officers, 56 enlisted)
Sensors and
processing systems:
ZPS-6F surface/low-level air search radar
Hughes/Oki ZQQ-7 Sonar suite: 1× bow-array, 4× LF flank arrays and 1× Towed array sonar
Electronic warfare
and decoys:
ZLR-3-6 ESM equipment
2× 3-inch underwater countermeasure launcher tubes for launching of Acoustic Device Countermeasures (ADCs)
Armament:
6×HU-606 21 in (533 mm) torpedo tubes with 30 reloads for:
1.) Type 89 torpedoes
2.) UGM-84 Harpoon
Mines