2: Focal Length
Narashino Ground Self Defense Force Base
5th Division, 96th Assault Machine Troop Headquarters
Friday, September 22nd, 200X
5:25 PM
The explosion had blown the side off of the storage hangar, cooking off nearby Boxer cannon rounds and heavy anti-AS missiles in the nearby ammo dump. Four bodies were visible to the Operations tower without having moved the wreckage, and the base fire crews had deployed with their HAZMAT gear on. Nobody wanted to think about the depleted-uranium cores of the Boxer rounds catching fire.
"Engage pressure on the PFR!" the senior damage-control officer, a lieutenant-colonel, screamed over his tactical radio. "Contain the fire on the south side of the storage hangar and move in once a path is clear!"
The roar of helicopters – French Dauphin search-and-rescue choppers – echoed overhead. "Get me the lead chopper of the 35th Wing on tactical," the officer shouted to a subordinate, waving him over. "Tell them to drop in from the roof on a cool spot."
"35th is on tac channel one, sir!" the subordinate responded. "They're already on the line!"
Racing onto a fire engine, its roaring turbodiesel kicking into gear, the lieutenant-colonel grabbed onto a handhold as the huge truck raced out of its garage, sirens blazing. "This is Ninamori!" the officer yelled into his handheld tactical radio.
"Sir, this is Sawamoto, rescue specialist on Inabayama-1, lead rescue chopper. We are in position to descend onto the roof."
"Cleared to the roof! Check your IR for anyone still alive in there! We're sending in the rescue teams from the ground, so be careful where you drop in from!"
"Affirmative. Reading seven heat signatures, and we have four likely casualties on the outside of the hangar."
"Confirmed. Get your men in there!"
The Dauphins swooped over the hangar, the downdraft from their rotors blowing the thick, black smoke of burning aviation-quality gas and explosive residue aside. Heavy-duty winches rapidly lowered, and a rescue team leader rappelled down from the lead chopper. His feet made easy contact with the concrete floor of the hangar.
"Keep your mask seals tight!" he barked out to the other members of the rescue team. "Fan out and stay away from the damaged side of the building!"
"Sir!" a team member yelled out. "I've found a survivor!"
"Call it in!"
"Roger!" The rescue team member knelt down to check the man's pulse and dog tags. "Lieutenant-Colonel Ninamori, we've found at least one survivor. He's badly injured and we are medevacing him."
"Copy. Hurry it up!" Lieutenant-Colonel Ninamori pocketed the radio as he hung on to the racing fire truck. Its rooftop fire-retardant dispenser wasalreadymanned and spewing high-velocity retardant power on the raging fire. "We've got to clear this fire so we can figure out what the hell happened here!"
Narashino-shi, Jieishan, 4-chome 22-12 (Kazama residence)
Friday, September 22nd, 200X
5:45 PM
"Two new messages."
"I'm hoooome," Shinji announced to the empty, small house on the outskirts of the Sengawa ward. Bordering on Chiba, the Ground SDF had long since bought up tracts of housing for soldiers based out of Narashino and their familes. It was still late enough that Emiko Kazama, Shinji's mother, was still on the commute back from Shin-Yokohama.
"First new message. Recorded on Friday September 22nd at 5:25 PM." The answering machine clicked the tape into place. "Hi, Shin-chan, it's me," Emiko's voice came over the recording. "I'm delayed a little bit tonight, so if you could take the fish out of the fridge and prepare the dashi for the miso, it'll help speed dinner up. There's a letter from a Nakayama-san for you on the table. I love you!"
The recording clicked off as Shinji opened up the letter, a form letter selling the GSDF benefits package and career assistance plans. Sergeant Major Nakayama from the Chiba SDF recruitment office, Shinji thought. He's expecting an answer, after all. Might as well say no to following in my father's footsteps, and –
The answering machine continued its litany. "Second new message. Recorded on Friday September 22nd at 5:42 PM."
"Huh?" Shinji looked up from the standard recruiting letter and checked his watch. "That wasn't five minutes ago..."
The recording played for only a few seconds. It was random road noise, punctuated by the brief honk of a car in the distance and a passing train. The message clicked to an end in the midst of the monotone bing-bing-bing of the train's electronic bell, fading into the distance from Doppler effect.
"What was that all about?" Shinji pressed the Erase All button on the phone and the tape rewound to the beginning, clicking back into place. The ringing of the front doorbell obscured the last clicks of the machine setting itself back into place.
"At least let me put my books and stuff down," Shinji groaned, tossing his hard brown leather school bag on the kitchen table and dashing to the door. "One second," he yelled out, stepping into a pair of outdoor slippers in the vestibule.
He opened the door to two unfamiliar men in uniforms. He knew them too well – the impeccably pressed green serge dress uniform of the Japanese Ground Self Defense Force, with the other man in a worn AS pilot suit. Every single detail on the uniforms sprung up in his mind – wow, he has a Third Gulf War Service Ribbon... and an AS Marksmanship Merit Medal – before he saw the somber details on their faces.
"Are you Shinji Kazama?" the taller man in uniform asked, opening his wallet to reveal an SDF ID badge. "I'm General Hitori Okubo, base commander at Narashino. This is Colonel Takeshi Kamiyama, commanding officer of the 96th Assault Machine Troop."
"Oh, Colonel Kamiyama," Shinji bowed politely. "I actually met you at last year's New Year's party at the base. You work with my father."
"Right. I remember you, son," Colonel Kamiyama returned Shinji's bow. "Your father and Sergeant Major Nakayama in Chiba speak very highly of you."
"I apologize for coming unannounced like this, Shinji-kun," General Okubo jumped in, "but we have something we need to tell you."
"To tell me?" Shinji looked confused. "Um... please come in. I'm sorry, we haven't been expecting you, but – "
"This isn't a time you need to worry about being polite, Shinji-kun," the General cut him off. "Please come with us to Narashino. We have a car waiting."
The SDF has regulations against soldiers wearing their uniforms in public when it's not a parade or function... they're supposed to wear civilian clothing. They change into their uniforms at the base. The only time they'd wear those in public is on official business.
"What's going on?"
Shinji felt his heart start to pound in his chest. He didn't realize that he was biting the inside of his lower lip, something he had never done, not even when his life had been threatened before. I wasn't this nervous at Khanka, during all those explosions at school, or sneaking onto Kaname-san's porch... what's going on?
Almost as an afterthought, just when the General had told him about the explosion at Narashino, he wondered what he was going to do about the budget for the class trip.
Sengawa-shi, Mitsutomo-chome 481, 4th floor (Tokiwa residence)
6:44 PM
"Kyoko-chan?"
"Hm?" Kyoko looked up from collecting her father's dinner plates. It was a Friday night, the last night when salmon was on sale at the Sengawa shopping arcade. The dashi and soy sauce glaze was as good as Ryoko Tokiwa, Kyoko's mother, had ever made it. The fact that it was her father Takuto's payday was just an additional happy extra for the small family.
"I mentioned that Kaname-san called earlier, right?"
"Really?" Kyoko set the dishes in the sink and started washing them.
"You were in the shower," Ryoko replied, taking a sip of green tea as her husband pored over the evening-edition Asahi Daily News. "I think she might have called your cell phone, too."
"Okay, I'll check later. Thanks, mom."
"Don't forget that you have an appointment with Dr. Takinawa tomorrow after school. It's just a follow-up."
"'kay."
Kyoko hummed to herself as she washed off the rest of the dishes. I wonder if Kana-chan would want to check out that new taiyaki stand in Shimokitazawa tomorrow, she thought. She mentions it all the time. Maybe we won't have to worry about Sagara-kun "inspecting" the place again. Speaking of which, maybe they reopened the ramen shop in Harajuku after that smoke bomb went off.
Her cell phone had a "1 Missed Call" with Kaname's name and number flagged. A few quick presses of the button dialed the number back.
"Hello? Kyoko?" Kaname sounded panicked.
"Kana-chan! What's up?"
"Oh, I'm glad I finally got to you. Look... this isn't really easy, Kyoko-chan, but... well... they have me doing some class rep stuff..."
"Class rep stuff? Like what?"
"Well..." Kaname trailed off. "I'm calling everyone in the class to let them know about Shinji's father."
"Huh? Shinji's father? What about him?"
"You'd better turn on the news."
Narashino GSDF Base6:55 PM
Dad does this every day.
The nondescript Nissan roared down the suburban streets of Narashino, the flashing blue emergency lights almost in time with the droning, electronic wee-ooo wee-ooo wee-ooo of its siren.
Every day, he drives the five miles on suburban streets and ten miles on the Tokai Expressway, taking exit 29C for the Narashino GSDF base.
The honking alarm persisted as Colonel Kamiyama drove the car hard down the exit ramp, down the spiral road to the neighborhood of Narashino-shi Sanadokan, a hair's distance from the main base entrance.
He checks in at the guard post.
The base guard had already raised the gate as he saw the car make its way off the exit ramp. They took an immediate left, following the signs to Base Administration, Command Headquarters, Motor Pool, AS Storage, and the Base Hospital.
He takes the first left past the gate to get to Administration. He never needs to take the third left to the hospital.
A helicopter roared overhead. Shinji didn't bother to poke his head out the window to look, or evaluate it based on the noise of its rotors. The smoke cloud had dissipated through the rest of the base as the fire was brought under control, spreading an acrid, sharp metallic twinging scent to the air.
He never ended up in there.
The car screeched to the halt just as an ambulance roared out of the parking lot, lights flashing but siren silenced. Colonel Kamiyama opened the passenger side door to let General Okubo out, but before the Colonel could open the door for Shinji, the boy had already gotten out of the car.
Kamiyama flagged down a man in combat fatigues bearing a G36 rifle, barking out commands to get a status report and summon the base commanders for an emergency meeting. Okubo saw his subordinate run off and turned to Shinji, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Nothing I can say will ease your mind, Shinji-kun," the General said in a low, sympathetic voice. "I can only try to help you by promising that we will exhaust every single resource at Narashino to treat your father's injuries."
"He's going to be fine," Shinji said, his voice more than a little bit jittery. "I know it. He's still alive, so he's going to be fine."
Colonel Kamiyama jogged back to the General. "Sir, we're convening a command staff meeting in fifteen minutes in the Command Center."
"Right. Kamiyama-kun, you go and tell them I'll be on my way." Okubo turned to Shinji. "Would you like to move on?"
Shinji didn't even bother nodding at first, taking a moment to compose himself. He felt his stomach well up, half with a sudden rushing feeling of crashing, colliding sadness, half with an equally intense wave of nausea.
"Yeah..." he eked out. "I'm ready."
"This way."
The General led Shinji through the busy admitting area, through spaces set aside for triage. Soldiers in fatigues, base uniforms, and civilian clothes were lined up on the hard plastic chairs of a waiting room, being checked out by nurses and doctors. Shinji didn't get a chance to see how many, but there were shouts of pain from broken limbs, cuts, burns, fractures, bleeding, and everything in between.
The Intensive Care Ward was on the top floor of the base hospital. Of course it'd be this far up, Shinji thought, staring at his shoes. The roof probably has a helipad...
"Your father was caught beneath the rubble of the roof, from what I've been told," General Okubo said, breaking the silence that had persisted since they had stepped into the elevator. "He was also caught in the edge of the fire just as rescue crews started to move in. He was the first one pulled out of the wreckage after the explosion."
"But what happened?" Shinji turned to look up at the General, a pleading gaze piercing the older man's dignified visage. "How could a Type 96 just blow up like that!"
"We're going to find that out for sure, Shinji-kun. I don't know what it is right now, but we'll find out."
The Type 96 has a weak leg joint on its right side. The initial batch of M6 Bushnels purchased from the United States came from a factory where the quality-control team was in transition at the time of production due to a union turnover agreement. The joint affects several Bushnels in service with NATO and is being replaced by manufacturer teams, most of whom were affected by the union turnover at the Rockwell factory in California. The weak joint, when overloaded, can cause a cut to the primary hydraulics, and –
"Shinji-kun, we're here."
Room 203.
Shinji swallowed, the lump in his throat giving no quarter. It was a one-bed room, and when he opened it, four nurses looked up at him, supervised by a young-looking doctor.
"You're Secretary Kazama's son?" the doctor asked.
Shinji nodded, nervous all of a sudden. "I'm Shinji Kazama, yeah."
"Good. My name's Dr. Matsuo Mizukoshi, supervisor of dermatology. I'm taking over your father's case."
"Is he going to get better?" Shinji blurted out.
"Your father has several fractured ribs, a shattered left arm, and forty percent of his torso has first- and second-degree burns. Furthermore, he has reflexively inhaled a heavy degree of smoke..."
Shinji looked over the shoulder of one of the nurses, a young man who looked like he was a medical intern. He saw his father, shirtless, lying half-covered by the sheets of the hospital bed. Sparse, white gauze bandages were wrapped around his chest and most of his stomach, and his left arm was in a traction sling.
"Dad?" he whispered as the doctor explained the process for a skin graft that had long since been completed.
He never could pilot Arm Slaves. He didn't have the feel for it. So he works behind the lines. He provides support. He's critical. He's fought hard for it every day of his life, hasn't he? He likes what he does! He's my father!
"Dad!"
He didn't hear the protestations of the doctor who tried to hold him back, or the nurse he physically wedged himself next to. Behind his glasses, Shinji kept blinking back the painful, worried tears that welled up so heavily against his willpower, forcing them back.
"Dad, you can hear me, can't you?"
His eyes were open and alert, slightly narrowed from the pain that whatever prescription painkiller he was on simply couldn't prevent. Though dulled, he was able to turn his gaze over to his son, ignoring the pain from turning his neck.
"Shinji..."
"Dad, are you okay? Does it hurt much?"
"Kazama-kun, please! We understand that this is painful, but we have much more that we have to do for your father!"
The cut to the primary hydraulics can cause a catastrophic drop in pressure if the backup hydraulics are improperly calibrated for battlefield conditions, for example in a training environment...
"Shinji, don't worry too much."
His father's hand on his shoulder had to hurt the older man a great deal the way he had to turn towards his tractioned left arm.
Shinji's tears welled to the point that he could no longer blink them away. He closed his eyes and clenched his hands on the clinically cold metal frame of the hospital bed, squeezing as if to crush it by proxy.
He's hurting himself to make me feel better. To make me live better. To protect Japan...
"Dad..."
To be continued...