Chapter 67
The Scales of Sacrifice
When the Chinese and Russian invasion of Japan commenced, many of the strategic level decisions on the Empire's side happened automatically, in accordance with the contingency planning the Britannian war staff and the Area 11 local administration had conducted. Based on the reports that flowed in on exactly what the invaders were doing, countermoves were initiated without much need to consult with the ranking officers and ministers for at least the first twelve hours or so. As such Lelouch's initial incapacitation and then little jaunt to go kill the heretical contractor had not much diminished the effectiveness of the imperial response, and by the time strategic decisions required his actual input, the cardinal was more than ready to make them.
The first question that arose was, with the Empire's naval assets concentrated, which of the two enemy axes of approach to strike at. Kyushu was arguably the weaker force, which the Third, Seventh, and Eighth Fleets would be able to crush without much difficulty. Conversely, Hokkaido was at greater risk of being overcome by the combined Russo-Chinese invasion force, and retaking the island would inevitably be more difficult. Ultimately though, the decision that was made was as much in consideration of these strategic factors as a response to what the Chinese and Russians did, or rather what they did not do.
The Empire had always been aware that fighting so close to mainland Asia opened their forces up to substantial bombardment by China and Russia's long range missiles. Conversely the mere existence of Japan amounted to a sort of unsinkable airfield and missile launch platform from which Britannia could do the same to their enemies. Of course, the same issues that prevented the Empire from basing its fifth generation stealth aircraft in Japan had played no small part in making basing its more capable missile systems similarly complicated, hence Lelouch used what time he had to augment Japan's air defense networks to blunt as much as possible the Chinese and Russian offensive assets. This, he had at least some success in doing, both the Hokkaido and Kyushu military bases soaking up an inordinate amount of fire before their defenses were neutralized, even if their ability to function had already been crippled by the incessant enemy bombardment. On Honshu, a chain of air defense batteries and radars provided a veritable umbrella against any missiles that might try to cross, and the reduction in insurgent attacks island-wide made the prospects of their remaining operational once the shooting started measurably greater. It said something of the lack of strategic vision that the best use the agents infiltrated in Japan could come up with for the Blood of the Samurai was to throw them into a desperate charge towards the Britannian Concessions in Tokyo. Grand as the gesture might seem like, the Empire would have likely been far more inconvenienced if its many air defense batteries were attacked instead.
The Chinese and Russian planners back in their respective homelands were of course not ignorant of the increased spikiness of the Empire's defenses in Honshu, and however they might rue the lost opportunity, what was done was done. Faced with the low prospects of any strikes making it all the way to the eastern side of Honshu to hit Nimitz Base and the ships there, they elected to hold back their arsenals and instead wait for the Britannian fleets to sally forth and engage them in open waters. From their perspective, they still had the advantage due to the proximity of their land-based launchers. The Empire of course was not inclined to just let this nominal advantage stand. As such, the first stage of the Empire's counterattack struck not either of the Hokkaido or Kyushu invasion forces, but high up in in orbit.
It had been many, many years since the reach of humanity's weapons outstripped the ability of mere human eyes to actually aim it. The prioritization of the high ground in warfare was as much about its effectiveness as a defensive position as the greater sight it allowed over the battlefield. The first stages of manned flight were also for the purposes of extended vision, one of the first practical applications of balloons being to help spot for long-ranged artillery. In the modern era, where mankind's reach extended beyond Earth's atmosphere, what began as balloons with observers using binoculars had culminated in satellites with high-resolution cameras. It was these satellites that both sides had used to gauge the movements of their opposite numbers, even now, for as long a reach as each side's missiles were capable of, they still needed to be aimed and guided towards their targets. Naturally then, it was these satellites that needed swatting to effectively blind those missiles.
Afterwards, the Chinese and Russian military commands quickly reconstructed the chain of events that saw so many of their reconnaissance satellites downed. At the time, all they knew for certain was that they were losing contact with more and more of their satellites, the ramifications of which were a bit more pressing than sorting through the numerous flights of F-15 Eagles Britannia was putting up. After all, with the Empire now moving to a war footing, it stepping up air patrols was hardly unexpected. Only later did it become clear that some of those very flights were the platforms by which the Empire had launched a multitude of anti-satellite weapons targeting Chinese and Russian satellites as they zipped overhead.
With the Chinese and Russians at least partially blinded, the three Britannian fleets mustered in Japan began towards their respective targets. Eighth Fleet, with its air wing complemented by the fighter and strike squadrons commanded by His Majesty's Rounds, proceeded to decimate the Chinese East Sea Fleet and thereby strand those divisions already landed on Kyushu. The target of the Third and Seventh Fleets, the Russo-Chinese Hokkaido invasion force, was a more complex undertaking for a variety of reasons.
In a demonstration of strategic prudence, or perhaps just outright common sense, the attack upon Hokkaido was centered on the northern port city of Wakkanai. The rationale for this was its extreme proximity to the island of Sakhalin, upon which Russia had staged a substantial number of soldiers over the past few months. Granted the distance between the closest usable port on Sakhalin and Wakkanai was not that much shorter than the hop between Busan and Fukuoka, but it still offered the shortest route by which Russia could get its troops over to the Japanese island, at least once a beachhead was established by those marines that accompanied the main fleets from Vladivostok.
The initial fighting in Hokkaido had gone much the same as in Kyushu, though the intensity was even greater thanks to the substantial amount of air support the Russians were throwing into the fray. While down south, the Chinese had restricted their most advanced fighters to mostly providing cover for their fleet, the Russians were risking sorties with their Su-57s deeper into Hokkaido airspace and being rewarded for it by the downing of many Britannian fighters. The Empire's squadrons were firmly on the defensive, struggling to keep their opponents from having free reign, but every sector that they could not provide overflight protection for became hideously fraught.
Still, it was not as if the losses were entirely one-sided. As difficult as the Su-57 was to handle, the older Sukhoi and Mikoyan jets nothing particularly special. Any that strayed away from the protective ring the Felons provided were pounced on mercilessly, so a steady tally of kills were notched for both sides. Even the Su-57 was not completely untouchable either, its stealth capabilities not quite on par with even the Empire's earlier Raptors and Panthers. It took a bit of luck, along with very careful coordination with the AWAC controllers coordinating the Britannian fighters, but on the second day of the invasion, a pair of overconfident Felons were drawn into a multilateral ambush by half a squadron of Eagles. This time, the loss of two more imperial birds went answered for in kind.
Even while the Empire dueled with the Russians, and the Chinese of course, in the air, the ground fighting between the two sides was intense. Britannia had deployed far more actual armor up in Hokkaido in preparation for the invasion, and had the Russians not seized control of the air in the north, might have actually driven the initial landing back into the sea. Unfortunately continued airstrikes and missile strikes stalled the Britannian forces, forcing them to similarly retreat southward out of the range of the enemy attacks. Still, the retreat happened in good order, and as the Chinese and Russian troops started outranging their own fire support, they found the Empire thoroughly entrenched and determined to not give another inch. After two days of fighting, the situation in Hokkaido had settled into a standstill, with reinforcements flowing toward the island for both sides. It was thus the third day when the Empire tipped over the first domino and sent the entire thing tumbling down.
The first sign the Chinese and Russians had of trouble was the loss of their reconnaissance satellites. The second was when extremely minute radar signatures started flitting across the screens aboard their ships, planes, and various other radar stations. Then the next step of the Empire's plan to terminate the enemy's kill chain was put into motion, one of the Chinese AWACs in the air suddenly dropped off the screen, a frantic call the only warning it was in trouble. Shortly thereafter, a Russian AWAC similarly went down. Their escorting fighters lasted just long enough to confirm they were under attack, but with their priority targets down, the Britannian pilots were free to turn their attention to cleaning up loose ends. In this first exchange, a total of six targets were splashed, with neither the Chinese nor the Russians having a clear idea of what had hit them.
Even with their eyes in the sky momentarily gone, assuming the invaders were willing to risk more AWACs without first understanding how their previous ones were lost, the Chinese and Russians still had good enough coverage that they detected a substantial force of planes approaching the line of contact over Hokkaido. From their signatures, they were quickly identified as Britannian F-18s, carrier-based strike fighters. Capable in their own right, and if they were able to operate unhindered, could well turn the tide down on the ground. The decision to vector in some of their own fighters was natural enough, even with the unknown threats lurking in the sky. All the more reason then to send some of the Su-57s and Chinese J-20 Dragons to deal with the problem they could see quickly and efficiently.
This time, the Chinese and Russian pilots had some proper forewarning about what they were up against, as their own stealth, imperfect as it was, still required their opponents to approach closer to get a proper lock. A few even got a good enough look to identify the adversary they were up against, the F-23 Panther stealth fighter fielded by the Imperial Britannian Navy. While slightly less maneuverable than its air force counterpart, that was still relative to another fifth-generation fighter. Against anything not a near-peer, it would be a one-sided slaughter. Against the very best of the Chinese and Russian air forces, the Panthers had to work a bit harder. But not too much harder.
As part of their own training problem, Britannia made sure its pilots had plenty of practice going up against stealth fighters of similar caliber. By and large that meant of course pitting its own planes against each other. Fortunately for the Empire, it had two stealth fighters available to put on the opposing teams, and in the finest traditions of interservice rivalry, the air force Raptors and naval Panthers were made to duel and dogfight with alacrity. In the process, the Empire learned quite a few lessons about how to deal with enemy stealth, some of which it had already put to use during the opening stages of the conflict. Now, another one was applied as the Panthers showed all they were worth. Later on, the naval aviators would claim the Chinese and Russians put up a better fight than the air force red team. The air force Raptor pilots responsible for downing the AWACs would say likewise. The debate as to which service had the best pilots continued to be a heated one.
With control of the air swinging firmly back to the Britannians and so much of the enemy's reconnaissance assets downed, with the Empire's own still remaining intact, the third stage of the operation commenced. While Eighth Fleet launched upwards of five hundred missiles at the East Sea Fleet, the combined Third and Seventh Fleets, despite having four times as many VLS equipped ships, settled for merely matching the count with its opening salvo. The reasoning for this became evident as the Chinese and Russian ships began their own launches, tracking back the origin points of the Britannian launches to get an approximate location of their enemies. Then, the second Britannian salvo launched, this one three times as large, and from a completely different location. With the enemy having committed most of its own missiles, the bulk of the combined Britannian fleet was free to retaliate with near impunity.
The exchange this time around was not nearly as one-sided as the Kyushu engagement ended up as. The smaller, diversionary force was still subjected to the entirety of the Chinese and Russian counterattack, and their reduced number came with it a proportionate reduction in their defensive capabilities. The rest of the fleet was too far away to be of much help, which was sort of the point considering their initial split-up, but the Britannian admirals had tried their best to stack the deck as much in their own side's favor as possible. The diversionary force had positioned themselves extremely close to the shore, so close in fact that quite a few of the army's air defense batteries were in range to cover them. As the enemy missiles sailed overhead, those batteries also let loose, bringing down a multitude of the incoming fire. The ships themselves added to that count, at both medium and close range, but the weight of fire was such that some, too many for that matter, still got through. Dozens of hits registered, with explosions dotting the waterline. The fires that blossomed were not all death kneels for the ships that were lit up, but more than one was quickly listing, while a few were unlucky enough to start breaking up. Still, as near as they were to the shore, there was plenty of search and rescue prepped to assist. For all the billions of pounds of tonnage that were lost, the human cost was substantially lower than it could have been.
For the opposing side, the situation was decidedly less measured. The Empire had prioritized its targeting with care, focusing predominantly on what they considered to be the greatest threats. With missile destroyers and cruisers, once they fired off their payloads, they would need to go back to a dedicated shipyard to get their launch cells restocked. The conventional guns they mounted would still provide them some measure of combat ability, but without their missiles, their combat range was severely curtailed. The same was not true however for the aircraft carriers, which carried enough munitions and fuel to allow their air wings to fly long-range sorties for several weeks. While the Chinese and Russian classes carried substantially fewer planes than their Britannian counterparts, the eighty-odd planes they did carry were still a credible threat to the Empire's forces. Knocking them out of action would go a substantial ways to the Empire reclaiming the skies above Hokkaido, as well as the surrounding seas. Sinking them entirely would be a blow that would take their enemies years to recover from. Naturally, that was exactly the end towards which the Empire aimed for.
The initial salvo of missiles had already forced the Chinese and Russian combined fleet to expend a not insubstantial amount of their own anti-air missiles and last resort point defenses. Without the jamming and preparatory strikes that Eighth Fleet enjoyed, this strike ultimately did less damage in absolute and proportional terms, though enough hits got through to still make it hurt. What was rolling down on them next however would be so much worse. The meager anti-air fire that the fleet managed was a pittance compared to what now rained down upon them. The destruction wrought was as brutal as it was widespread, with over a dozen ships going up as their own munitions amplified the explosions already rocking them. None however went down in so spectacular a fashion as the two aircraft carriers, as their decks were blown apart by first the missiles and then all of the ordnance and fuel they carried. A few unlucky planes could even be seen being thrown clear from the carriers, flipping through the air before slamming into the sea. Damage control was well and moot by this point as crews frantically abandoned ship, many resorting to jumping overboard. For many, whether they survived would depend on whether they could swim the distance to the at least somewhat nearby shores, for few of the other ships would be in much shape to take them on. Even if a good chunk of the missiles had zeroed in on the two carriers, that many being launched in total still left plenty to go for the rest of the fleet.
Even with the multitude of ships that did survive the carnage, they now had to weigh the risks of remaining on station with their anti-air defenses depleted and their offensive reach crippled. On top of which, the awareness of the somewhat distant but still far too close for comfort Britannian battlefleet meant there was an impending threat further adding to the scales. While withdrawing meant stranding the troops already on Hokkaido, the prospects of the Russo-Chinese fleet actually holding their position successfully was effectively nil, at which point the soldiers would be stranded anyway, except their nations would be looking at the complete destruction of their Pacific fleets on top. What finally tipped the scales was the frantic reports from the south, indicating the Chinese East Sea Fleet had come to a very bad end. With even the preliminary reports, the cost suffered by China already was almost beyond that country's capacity to absorb. The senior surviving Chinese captain less consulted and more informed his Russian counterpart that his ships would be withdrawing, taking as many of the troops they could take back onboard as they could before the Empire started pounding them from the air again. The Russian captain had enough sense to not argue the point and quickly issued similar orders.
The Empire could have arguably allowed this partial evacuation. The fewer enemy soldiers left in Hokkaido, the fewer they would need to mop up afterward. And it was not like the retreating troops would be able to take much if any of their equipment with them, which meant all of the tanks, artillery, and the most expensive kit the Chinese and Russians had brought with them would be left behind, which would put a dent into those countries' ability to field replacements for at least the near term. And ultimately it was not as if the ships could have gotten too many soldiers out anyway. A few hundred, perhaps a thousand at most. Out of the six divisions that had been landed, one could be forgiven for asking what even the point of taking further risks for such a pittance was. Still, the sailors aboard the ships did possess a sense of camaraderie with their fellow servicemembers, whatever other branch of the armed forces they were part of. So they intended to at least try, if circumstances allowed it. The one with the final say in this however was not amongst their ranks, and the call he made not to their benefit.
An accusation of vengefulness might be credibly levied at Cardinal Lamperouge for the call he made, to which Lelouch would retort that merely because one disliked his decision does not mean it wasn't made in the full soundness of his mind. Besides which, the fulfillment of vengeance did not automatically disqualify a decision as being the best strategically or tactically either. If anything, the bolstering of morale such fulfillment provided brought value that also weighed upon a decision's worth. In this case, the advantage of breaking the enemy's morale just a bit more further added to the calculus of the decision.
As the Chinese and Russian ships tried to organize their makeshift sealift, those more functional ones were soon alerted to another impending threat. New radar contacts were appearing, and in numbers that suggested another major attack in the offing. Again the Chinese and Russian commanders were faced with a choice, and again, they made the only one they could. Despite their countless compatriots stranded ashore or even worse bobbing in the waters, the surviving warships began pulling away. Still, despite their beaten forms, despite the damage many of them suffered, the ships tried to keep some semblance of formation. They were already being forced to leave so many behind, they seemed determined to at least not lose any currently with them. To their relief, the planes ultimately kept their distance, shadowing the retreating fleet but making no move to launch any actual attacks. Perhaps the Britannians were also running low on munitions and platforms, or perhaps the Empire wanted at least some survivors to return to tell the tale of how badly they had lost. Whatever the cause of the Empire's ostensible mercy, the fleeing survivors did not gainsay it as they left the field of battle.
Evening was approaching and with it the end of the beginning, Ling knew. After the brutal destruction of the East Sea Fleet and the appearance of substantial enemy reinforcements, the untenability of the Chinese position became rapidly apparent to anyone with a modicum of military training or experience. While General Cao and Ling himself possessed such qualities, Atsushi Sawazaki most certainly did not. The Japanese man's frantic exhortations that the Chinese do something to reverse the situation had managed to even grind down Cao's patience, with the general tearing into Atsushi for his vapid flustering. After all, it was not as if the Chinese were doing nothing. It was his compatriots doing the fighting and dying out there, while it was a substantial number of Atsushi's helping the enemy with the killing.
That seemed to finally get through to Atsushi just how dire his situation was, at which point the man seemed to undergo a nervous breakdown. The small mercy of this was it spared Ling the need to retain a civil demeanor with the bureaucrat or otherwise refrain from being overly frank with present circumstances. With how dire things were becoming, being able to discuss matters with open forthrightness was a blessing in and of itself. Otherwise, Ling doubted he could have convinced Cao to stand down his forces as easily, or at all.
While the warships that formerly composed the East Sea Fleet had been systematically wiped out, the ferries and other ships used to transport the ground troops were actually mostly still intact, since most had been in the vicinity of Busan loading up the next wave of reinforcements. Ling expected those to be promptly unloaded by this point, not that it mattered. Without any warships to provide escort, none of those troop ships were liable to survive passage through Japanese waters to try to evacuate them. Smaller boats might, but the sheer numbers needed to make any dent in the number of soldiers presently on Kyushu made that notion completely impractical.
With retreat not an option, the choice that lay before the Chinese forces was whether to keep fighting or surrender. A fairly reasonable argument could actually be made that the Chinese should keep on fighting, for at least a bit longer. Munitions wise what they had landed on the island would probably suffice for a few more days, if they used them judiciously. And the more damage they did to the Empire's own forces the longer it would take Britannia to make good those losses before they could turn them against China proper. Besides which, the morale of the soldiers, badly shaken though it was by the sheer ferocity of the Britannian attack, was not outright broken yet. Some even seemed eager to try to pay back the Empire in some way and might be reluctant to obey a surrender order.
At the same time, the arguments for surrender were also very compelling. There was no chance of relief in a near enough timeframe that the Chinese forces could actually expect to hold out for, and once their present stock of ammo was used up, the troops would have effectively nothing to fight back with anyway. Nor could the soldiers hope to go to ground and hide. Whatever the similarities in facial characteristics, few of the soldiers were Japanese soldiers, and with a clearly large proportion of the Japanese populace siding with the Empire, it would not take long for the native residents to point out any suspicious strangers. And while fighting back might see a few more Britannians killed, Ling was under no illusions as to the toll his own troops would suffer, not when their opposing numbers included a regiment commanded by one of the emperor's Rounds. If any Britannian unit would be overly eager to avenge the death of one of the emperor's children, it would be this one.
It had been a very animated debate that raged, but in the end Ling was able to convince his fellow officers that though surrendering would add a touch of finality to their failure to achieve their mission, that failure was not something that could or should be laid at their feet. After all, the pretext under which they had undertaken this mission had been proven completely false. Yes, there remained some Japanese that yearned for liberation, but clearly a far greater proportion were now satisfied with their lot, or even invested in it enough to bear arms in its defense. Not to mention the Empire had very obviously anticipated the invasion, and to an even greater extent than their superiors ever suspected. How else could one explain the masterful trap that was sprung against the East Sea Fleet and their own forces? No, the invasion of Japan was a failure, but it was not a failure that could be laid at the feet of the soldiers and sailors that fought, bled, and died for the cause. The failure lay with those that sent them to fight, bleed, and die on this foreign shore. But by not dying, by living to potentially fight another day, they might get the chance to make up for this failure, and one day fight those that truly threatened China. Of which he was now preparing to take the next step of.
"Captain Ling Yao, Chinese Federation Army," Ling said, offering a polite salute.
Making the decision to surrender, as hard as it was, was still only the first step. The other side still needed to accept it, and while under the laws and customs of war the victors of battle were obliged to accept sincere offers of surrender, it was still not a given. Still, that the Britannians had allowed Ling and a small escort to approach under the flag of truce was probably a good sign. Hopefully.
The woman standing across from him tilted her head, but after a moment returned one crisply.
"Major-General Nonette Enneagram, Knight of Nine. So? State your terms."
While Ling arguably knew little about Nonette aside from some vague reputation of her being a skilled officer despite the woman's relative youth, she was only a few years older than the princeling himself and a flag officer already, the sheer aloofness she displayed was still not within his expectations. Of course Ling was hardly qualified to chide someone else for a lack of propriety, considering his own lackadaisical tendencies. Hopefully the Britannian general's demeanor did not portend a genuine disinterest in what he was here to propose.
"My commanding officers recognize that our current position is untenable, and that further resistance would serve little purpose," Ling said. "We are therefore prepared to surrender, so long as the Empire agrees to treat all prisoners of war in accordance with the Geneva Conventions."
Nonette raised an eyebrow at that last bit. "In accordance with the first three Conventions."
The specifying was required as while the Empire was a signatory to the first three numbered treaties, it had never adopted the fourth Convention, nor either of the amendment protocols. Nor was Britannia particularly shy about why it rejected those particular articles. The Fourth Convention, the Empire objected to the clauses that prohibited military strikes if the harm done to non-combatants could be considered disproportionate to whatever military gain might be achieved. Britannia's position on this matter was that a definitive judgment about a strike's proportionality could only be obtained after the fact and that it did not consider encouragement of erring on the side of caution when uncertain to be a worthwhile endeavor in and of itself. As far as the Empire was concerned, the quickest way to end the suffering of a civilian populace caught in the midst of battle was to end the battle as quickly as possible, which meant destroying as rapidly as possible any and all means by the opposing side to keep fighting. Anything that compromised that ability was only temporizing without actually providing genuine, meaningful relief.
That was not to say the Empire was utterly indiscriminate in its conduct of war. Its leaders recognized that a lasting victory was only made more difficult and expensive if the other side was given further cause to fight, and that a military so ill-disciplined as to callously murder civilians would inevitably become a threat to its own civilian base. As such, the Imperial Britannian Armed Forces did make an effort to limit the harm that fell upon noncombatants in a combat situation, and it was for violating those regulations that Lelouch lined up quite a few servicemembers who also happened to have Purist sympathies. And this even with the greater flexibility of imperial law on when someone could be defined as a combatant, and therefore a legal target.
Ling felt the edge of his lips quirk at Nonette's qualifier. He supposed that signified the degree of trust he was held in by the Britannian general. Not unreasonable, considering his own country had technically launched an invasion of imperial territory without issuing a formal declaration of war. Granted China's public justifications were that they were fighting to liberate territory under Britannian occupation and therefore not rightfully part of the Empire, but that was likely not a reason the Empire would lend much weight to.
"But of course," Ling readily conceded.
This time the Chinese captain thought he saw a slight twitch of the knight's lips.
"Then I trust you have no objections to handing over the Japanese insurgents you are sheltering."
Ling's expression froze for a brief moment. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me," Nonette retorted bluntly. "Hand over the so-called Japanese government-in-exile personnel that we know accompanied your invasion force. As the Japanese government is considered officially defunct by my government, this government-in-exile does not constitute a lawful participant in this conflict, and its members are therefore not covered under the Conventions."
In point of fact Protocol I, one of the two amendment protocols that Britannia explicitly refused to sign, did just that. But because the Empire was not a signatory, demanding the Japanese bureaucrats and politicians be handed over for presumable execution did not constitute any violation of Britannia's obligations. For all that it was called international law, the Geneva Conventions were still hardly universal, and attempting to impose any such upon a nation as powerful as Britannia tended to be fraught, at best, as Japan itself learned. Ling himself was certainly not in any position to attempt any similar such assertions. Still, that did not mean he needed to just give up Atsushi and the other Japanese for free.
"I understand the Empire's grievances with the Japanese government-in-exile-"
"Grievances?" Nonette uttered, and the chill of her voice saw Ling's jaw dangle open. "Is that how lightly you treat our enmity for those that helped orchestrate this war?"
With a click the Chinese captain shut his mouth. Even Ling knew when he was about to get a foot shoved in his mouth, such as his own.
"My orders from His Majesty are clear. The members of this so-called government-in-exile are to be put to the sword, to the last. Any who attempts to impede this will join them in their martyrdom, whoever they may be, princeling."
That choice of words made clear Nonette knew exactly how extreme the stance was and the risks it entailed. Yet even so the knight was prepared to see it through, though whether out of loyalty to her liege or because she herself shared in the vitriol directed at the Japanese bureaucrats, Ling was not certain. Nor did it probably matter, as Ling also doubted anything he could say would assuage the Britannian woman. If anything, further pressing on the point might convince Nonette of Ling's own complicity in all this, what with her direct reference to his own imperial lineage. The Chinese captain would need to choose his next words very, very carefully.
"If Britannia's enmity for those that orchestrated this war is as deep as you say," Ling began anew, "may I presume your liege would be very interested in the means to have more of them in the Empire's grasp?"
Nonette regarded Ling with another tilt of her head before giving a snort.
"So China's looking to jump ship now that you have a firsthand look at the hammer that's about to fall?"
A glint passed Ling's own eyes. "Need I remind you, Dame Nonette, from which land these instigators originated from?"
"Russia, China, Britannia," Nonette listed off nonchalantly. "And a lot of people from all three, if not more, will die before they are put down. How many will depend on whether whatever you're obviously insinuating is more expedient than Eden Vital resorting to its contingency protocols."
That caused Ling to stiffen again. While his familiarity with the Order was frustratingly limited, the others had made clear in no uncertain terms that Eden Vital, and by extension the heretics that broke off from it, did possess means that were far beyond anything China or really any nation on Earth could stand against. That was the biggest reason why Prince Yue's faction could not risk a direct confrontation with said heretics, at least not without Eden Vital's backing. On the other hand, Eden Vital did not entirely need collaborators within China if they decided to pull out all the stops. It supposedly did not even need Britannia's help. How much of the world would be left over was another matter entirely, however.
"I assure you, China dearly wishes for this matter to be settled with as few lives lost as possible," Ling said. "And we are prepared to go to lengths to make it so."
"Prove it," Nonette said.
Was this how leadership felt, Ling idly wondered. To be forced to make compromises, to even go back on one's oaths and words in service for some ephemeral greater good. Little wonder his older cousin and said cousin's retainers always looked so weary. It was draining, of the spirit if not the body, bearing the consequences of such decisions.
"The Japanese delegation will be surrendered to Britannia," Ling finally said.
The lightening that he felt was somehow of no comfort whatsoever.
Nonette gave a simple nod, then a jerk of her head. "C'mon then."
Ling blinked, looking at her somewhat blankly.
"You said China wants to be rid of the heretics," the knight said in a matter-of-factly tone. "Presumably you'll want to speak with someone that can actually help make that happen."
That saw the Chinese captain do more than gape. He hurried quickly after Nonette, who led him to a large command vehicle. Inside, Nonette motioned for Ling to be seated in front of a large monitor. Once the captain was settled in, the screen lit up, and Ling found himself face to face, metaphorically speaking, with a certain person.
"Captain Ling Yao," Lelouch Lamperouge, Cardinal of the Order Militant of Eden Vital, greeted, his violet eyes piercing into Ling's own. "There is much for us to discuss."
As with many other aspects of Britannian law, there were certain idiosyncrasies with the matter of war. According to the letter of the imperial constitution, only the emperor could authorize the deployment of the armed forces against another sovereign polity. Under the unwritten portion, no emperor ever did so without the consent of parliament, since if nothing else fighting wars, even small ones, tended to be exorbitantly expensive, and parliament was the one with the ability to authorize certain emergency funding measures beyond the normal taxes that otherwise flowed to the crown. Usually, getting parliament to issue such a petition was not terribly difficult, considering the imperialistic bent of most of Britannia's history. Of course the last few years of near constant warfare was enough to start to weary even the more militaristic elements of parliament, not to mention the prospect of taking on nuclear powers like China and Russia was a decidedly different one than non-nuclear states like Japan or the Middle East Federation.
Of course, it was a very different matter when it was those other polities that struck the first blow, even more so when the opening shot saw the murder of an imperial scion. An underage imperial scion, one whom due to the nature of Britannian noble houses was some cousin or another to probably a third if not more of the Lords and a not insignificant number of the Commons as well. Emotions were noticeably tense as members of both houses of parliament filed into the chamber and took their seats. There was very little doubt as to what the outcome of today's vote would be, that the government called for it at all was a mark of their confidence in achieving their desired result. Still, even under such circumstances, the vote was hardly likely to be unanimous. There would also be those who out of naivete, stupidity, or even genuine principle, would vote against war of any cause. To do so in the present climate would require an impressive degree of self-assurance and conviction, but that was probably the one thing that proper fanatics did not lack. Some were even enamored with the concept martyrdom. As the session was opened, the chance for them to commit it neared.
"My Lords and Ladies, Ladies and Gentlemen," the Lord Chancellor, the presiding officer of the Lords, began. "We are gathered here this day in light of recent most grave developments in the Empire's Japanese territories. Three days prior, the Chinese and Russian Federations, without benefit of a formal declaration of war, dispatched substantial military forces in an attempt to wrest control of Japan from Britannia. As the receiving party of such aggression, His Majesty's Government has submitted for our consideration a petition to His Majesty to declare war upon the offending parties."
The overly flowery and verbose language was probably overdone, but let it not be said the Empire was not dedicated to its pageantry.
"Before we proceed to the debate proper, His Lordship Marquess Zechs Vander, head of the Imperial War Staff, will provide an update on the current military situation in Japan."
The one-eyed man that took the podium after was an imposing figure, his manifold scars telling all his years of service. That Zechs was a mere Field Marshal instead of Marshal of the Empire outright was solely due to the political machinations, and not small amount of nepotism, that ultimately placed Cornelia in that post. Still, if Zechs resented his former pupil in any way, the man never gave voice to it and continued serving loyally and competently at his assigned task.
"Thank you, Lord Chancellor," Zechs said, then proceeded without further preamble, using the large projector in the chamber to show a map of Japan. "Three days prior, at 10:30 local time, forces of the Chinese and Russian Federations entered Britannian territorial waters. Simultaneous to this, in Tokyo, the Special Administration Act handover ceremony had commenced, during which a sniper shot, and murdered, the Princess Euphemia."
For how dryly Zechs described the death of an imperial scion, there was still decidedly dark glint to his eye.
"Sister Lucretia of the Order Militant of Eden Vital was able to identify the source of the shot and retaliated, and we have confirmation that the assassin was killed by her counterfire."
Murmurs of approval rippled through the chamber at that bit. As small an act of vengeance as that was, it still offered some satisfaction.
"Shortly thereafter, movement by a large Japanese insurgent force, which we have now identified as the Blood of the Samurai, began attempting to move south through the Tokyo Metropolitan Area, likely with the intent of assaulting the Britannian Concessions. This, they failed, as a consequence of from what we can discern to be the emergence of every resistance movement native to Tokyo to stop them."
Old news, this, as reports from Japan, both rumors and confirmed facts, had already spread widely enough that most anyone who cared already knew of the Tokyo resistance movement's wholesale siding with the Empire. Still, by repeating this information, Zechs ensured that it was part of parliament's official minutes, further embedding it into the public record.
"The resistance movements took heavy casualties in doing so, but in conjunction with elements of the 597th regiment, predominantly also composed of ethnic Japanese, were able to keep the insurgents from ever reaching the Arakawa River separating the Concessions from the northern wards."
Another point of emphasis that the Japanese themselves played a substantial role in the victory the Empire had won that day. And it was far from the last, either. The map now shifted from Tokyo to the southwestern island of Kyushu.
"Simultaneous to this," Zechs continued, "Chinese forces launched an amphibious invasion of Kyushu, utilizing their East Seas Fleet, while a combined force of the Chinese North Sea Fleet and Russian Pacific Fleet conducted landings at the northern tip of Hokkaido. The Kyushu invasion force was able to substantially seize control of the city of Fukuoka during the first day of fighting as a consequence of the naval and air support available to them. Their efforts to press southward on the second day however were stymied when they came into contact with elements of the Japanese Liberation Front aligned with the local viceroyalty."
And here was the big one. The JLF was widely known as the largest, best equipped, and otherwise most powerful of the resistance organizations in Administrative Area 11. For Lelouch to turn them, even if predominantly to his side instead of directly to the Empire's, was arguably one of the crowning jewels of his already innumerable political and military successes in Japan.
"The combined Japanese-Britannian force was able to hold the line north of the city of Kurume and otherwise keep the enemy bottled up in Fukuoka long enough for Eighth Fleet and His Majesty's 2nd Cavalry Regiment, along with supporting air combat squadrons, to arrive. Eighth Fleet, along with air units of His Majesty's Rounds, were able to completely destroy the Chinese East Sea Fleet with zero losses to their numbers. Shortly thereafter the Chinese divisions already landed on Kyushu surrendered to Major-General Enneagram. As part of that surrender, the Chinese have turned over all members of the so-called Japanese government-in-exile that was accompanying them."
Subtext aplenty to that last bit there. The most obvious of which was yet another reduction in the nominal justifications of the Chinese and Russians that they were invading to liberate Japan on behalf of the Japanese. It would have been hard enough to make that excuse stand after so many Japanese actively took up arms in opposition to such liberation, but now they had no person of even nominal legitimacy on the Japanese side that could undersign their efforts as anything excepted naked imperialism. Not that the Empire particularly cared one way or another, but it wanted the nations it was about to declare war on to understand in full just what Britannia considered this war to be about, and how they would be prosecuting it.
"The Chinese and Russian forces in Hokkaido were able to make further headway south, but were similarly stalled once they were beyond the range of their naval and air support," Zechs said. "Concurrent with Eighth Fleet's operations south, the combined Third and Seventh Fleets launched their own attack on the joint Russo-Chinese fleet. Naval and aerial losses on our side were substantially heavier this time, but estimates are that only a third of the enemy fleet survived to retreat back to the Asian mainland. Though the Chinese and Russian ground forces have yet to capitulate, they have been steadily driven back towards the port city of Wakkanai, and we expect their surrender will be forthcoming shortly. In conclusion, though it has come at a cost, the opening stages of the war the Chinese and Russian Federations have precipitated constitute a decisive victory for Britannia."
To that applause and even cheers sounded in the chamber. Everyone loved good news, especially when it entailed giving a despised enemy a sound beating. Once the clamor died down, Zechs took his leave of the podium and the lord chancellor moved the agenda along.
"His Lordship Marquess Fernand Hyarms, Minister of Foreign Affairs, speaking on behalf of His Majesty's Government in favor of the declaration of war."
It said something that instead of Schneizel making the government's opening statement, the prime minister had chosen the man that was ostensibly responsible for maintaining diplomatic relations with other nations and otherwise trying to make sure such ruptures did not occur. Then again, as part of Schneizel's cabinet, Fernand had had a front seat to the deteriorating geopolitical situation worldwide over the past seven years. That war had finally erupted could be taken as a mark of his failure to avert it, or at least that would be how some of the more pacifist-leaning factions would interpret it. Internally within the Britannian government, the perspective was a bit different. So long as the foreign ministry succeeded in making sure the number of enemies arrayed against Britannia was outnumbered by those that either sided with the Empire or at least declared neutrality, the ministry had done its job. And today, it would be doing its other job of advocating for the government's chose path in international relations.
"Thank you, Lord Chancellor," Fernand said as he took the podium. "My fellow members of parliament, I stand before you this day to deliver an unfortunate but truthful reality. Despite decades of friendship during which Britannia helped preserve and even enhance the sovereignty of the Chinese Federation, that nation which first began turning its back to us seven years ago has now culminated its betrayal by joining hands with one of our greatest historical adversaries to seek to plant yet another dagger in our backs."
Fernand was not even trying to be subtle here, perhaps in an effort to preemptively cut off the likely avenues that those few against the war would likely use. Not that that would stop them, but half the information war was about getting your own point, as clearly and concisely as possible, out first to the audience. Planting an initial seed of perception was much easier than trying to alter someone's after the fact, this the imperial government understood fully well.
"The military incursions by the Chinese and Russian Federations have occurred, as Field Marshal Vanders noted, without benefit of a formal declaration of war, in direct violation of the Third Hague Convention of 1907, of which all parties in the present conflict are still signatories of, and of which the Empire has adhered to scrupulously even in our recent campaigns starting with the conquest of Japan. That the opposing belligerents have elected to forego their obligations on the pretense that they are merely co-belligerents of Japan from that original campaign, despite having never announced any formal agreements binding them as such, is perhaps not surprising. Nevertheless, Britannia takes seriously not just those international treaties it is signatories of, but also obligations to its own subjections." Fernand gave a hard look at several segments of the chamber. "The Empire is already well experienced with how much more blood is shed when we are derelict in our obligations, after all."
There was little reason to pretend Britannia had not been so derelict when it came to its integration of some of its more recent conquests, not when the fruits of actually undertaking the effort were so readily visible in the Japanese siding with the Empire in the developing conflict. Fernand's glare was also not limited to the more conservative, bigoted elements of parliament either. A modicum of responsibility also lay with some of the nominally more progressive elements. Their efforts to try and divert funding from the various integration programs that they found objectionable did not result in better alternatives being put in place, it simply resulted in nothing outright being done to ease the newly conquered populaces into the Empire. Of course some of those same progressives probably still felt that such nothing was better, but when they then wringed their hands over the inevitable resultant deaths, well, one had to wonder just what sort of fantasy they were envisioning that would have resulted in some other outcome.
"Britannia is not one to shirk from challenges to our sovereignty," Fernand continued, "nor in the defense of our peoples. And we will certainly not fail to uphold our oaths to our sovereign liege. Make no mistake, for as great a victory as we have won in Japan, again, the threat of our enemies remains large. If we show that this is the limit to which we will answer such attacks upon our nation and people, we but invite future, even more callous harm. Escalation is not a fear that will be assuaged by backing down, doing so will simply invite it more readily in the future."
Another round of applause, though fewer cheers. A more somber mood had been instilled in the chamber by Fernand's words, but there was still a clearly majority who were clapping not just out of politeness. How much of that would remain for the next speaker would be interesting to witness.
"The Honorable William Helmsley, representing the Viscounty of Nashville, speaking on behalf of His Majesty's Most Loyal Opposition in the Commons in opposition of the declaration of war."
With the Centralists, Liberals, and Crown Loyalists in a grand coalition centered around Prince Schneizel, the only actual opposition outside of those parties fell to the much smaller Labor party in the Commons and the proportionally larger Conservatives in the Lords. Naturally, the diametrically opposite political leanings meant the two Opposition parties rarely if ever coordinated across the two houses of parliament, and the day's matter was no different. While Labor clearly opposed any new war, especially against one of the "liberal democracies" of Europe, the Conservatives, despite their usual disagreements with the sitting government, still retained enough of their sense of noble prerogatives that an assault upon a royal by an outside party was anathema to them and must be answered in full. As a natural consequence, the only party that was up to the task of actually opposing the government on today's point was Labor, which William was apparently determined to do, regardless of what it might do to Labor's overall electoral prospects. It probably helped that after his term was over William would not be contesting any other offices in the Commons, though with this speech he was likely also killing any chance of winning a local elected office back in Tennessee, or an appointive one from the local provincial lord. Whether it was principle or fanaticism that drove him to still go ahead with this, despite several members of his own party urging him not to, was an exercise left to the political pundits and analysts.
"My fellow parliamentarians," William began. "I too come before you with an uncomfortable truth, one that I would hope in your impassioned fervor you retain enough sense to recognize its genuine veracity. Yes, the events of the past few days has marked many a tragedies, but it is our duty as leaders of this nation not to further propagate them, but to do everything within our power to prevent new ones from occurring."
Already, chilly looks were meeting William's own gaze as he spoke. The man did not let that dissuade him however.
"Consider the present state. For all the losses that we have taken, the outcome of the confrontations in Japan has been declared a victory by our own armed forces. That means at present we stand in a position of strength for any mediation that would end this conflict before it spirals out of control. For what reason would we squander this opportunity, to seek a more uncertain end and only after a much greater cost?"
To give credit where it was due, all of William's points were entirely valid. The problem the politician faced however was that the relative values placed upon the ends he spoke of simply differed outright from his perspective and that of many of the others in this chamber, as evidenced by a cry that sounded.
"For vengeance, you godforsaken Digger!"
More cries erupted, even as the Lord Chancellor banged his hammer.
"I will have order in these chambers!" his voice roared.
William grimaced. "And what good does vengeance do for the sake of our nation? Of the people who we are sworn to represent and serve? We owe certain oaths to our liege lords, yes, but that does not give them unchecked reign to demand the totality of our lives. Or to risk the very prospects of the world at large! Not us forget that those we are being asked to war against are not some underdeveloped polities, or even a merely rich state. These are our peers in the realm of arms, including nuclear ones. What sort of vengeance is at all worth the risk of a nuclear Armageddon?"
Less than subdued murmurs filled the chamber, but another solid rap of the hammer kept them from spilling over once more.
"Before we all decide whether to send potentially countless millions to their deaths, consider just what future generations of Britannia, of our own families, would think of our actions. I for one would see not only myself, but as many sons and daughters of Britannia live long, fruitful lives, where they can look back upon this day and thank us for preserving their future."
With a conclusion like that, it was perhaps inevitable that screams and jeers started anew. William however returned to seat without any fuss, even as the Lord Chancellor strained to restore decorum. When the shouting finally died down again, he moved to the next scheduled speaker.
"The Honorable Amelia Schurz, representing the Fox Valley viscounty, speaking in rebuttal to the Opposition."
As a Liberal member in the Commons, Amelia was arguably a bit further away from the actual center of power in the current sitting government. That she had been chosen to deliver the government's rebuttal nonetheless indicated a measure of confidence in the woman's oratory skills, as well as a political imperative being in play. That Amelia was the second cousin-in-law once removed of one Kallen Stadtfeld-Kouzuki was probably not part of that consideration, seeing as there were plenty of parliamentarians, both in the Commons and the Lords, that could claim such a degree of relation to someone of high station or prominence currently serving in Japan. For that matter quite a few members of neighboring Wisconsin parliamentary districts could make a similar claim, what with how noble families intermarried. No, the government's selection of Amelia to deliver the rebuttal was grounded in another consideration, likely represented in the singular item she was holding.
"Lords and ladies, ladies and gentlemen," Amelia stated rather brusquely. "That is the courtesy we extend most often, to denote those amongst whose company we stand. I myself have always preferred a much simpler one." The woman took a deep breath. "My fellow Britannians, for that is what all of us are, in the end."
A rather unusual start, but Amelia had not obtained her current seat in the Commons, and the shortlist for peerage for that matter, on some whim.
"And if we so desire to remain Britannians, it would behoove us to be able to tell the difference between a tactical victory and a strategic one."
Rather, the woman's capacity to eviscerate those she considered fools while maintaining an almost motherly demeanor towards those she cherished. But even the latter needed to mind her sharp wit, as she did not blunt her edges for either friend or foe.
"It would also behoove us to grasp that the threat we face today is not a new one, nor even a recently emerged one. The foe that we face is one of the tides of history, of the waxing and waning of entire nations, and which we will continue to face so long as Britannia exists. So do not let talk of victory lull any of you into a false sense of security. So long as this nation exists, so long as we seek its continued existence, we will always be confronted by this foe. And to forestall its inevitable victory, for let us not delude ourselves otherwise, as no nation in all of history has ever endured forever, we must always be willing to sacrifice."
To this a much more respectful silence settled upon the chamber, even as certain members seemed doubtful or even askance that Amelia would advocate for such a mentality. Yet one must keep in mind that Amelia, despite describing her inclinations as that of the center-left, the center from whence she started was still that of a Britannian center.
"The question that thus faces us is not whether we can avoid further sacrifices, but whether we have the will to make the necessary sacrifices. In the past, the refusal by certain of this nation's greater peers to do so led to a great rot taking hold and eating away at our Empire. And it was only with even greater sacrifice was this fall arrested and we all are able to stand in this chamber to even contemplate whether to give more from ourselves and our people, as if there can be any doubt as to the consequences if we fail to rise to this occasion."
Amelia's eyes were now fixed on William's, the woman gracing her fellow elected representative a hard glare.
"I too would love nothing more than to be able to grant my children, and their children, and indeed all the children of the Empire a future where such sacrifice of necessity had become obsolete. But I also know for certitude that we will never reach such a utopia by pretending that it has already become so, when it has most certainly not."
The woman reached out and set a single pink rose upon the podium. A sharp intake of breath could be heard sweeping through the chamber.
"Sacrifice, that is something those whom we are sworn to have demonstrated time aplenty they are prepared to make, on all our behalf. I would not mark myself unworthy of that sacrifice by refusing to answer the call that they issue in turn."
Of the speakers scheduled to follow after Amelia, all recused themselves, so the imperial parliament was able to move to the final vote without further delay. In the end, only three votes were cast in opposition to the declaration of war, with those others previously intending to electing to abstain instead. The supermajority that voted for more than sufficed to carry the motion, and by the next day the Pendragon Gazette carried a copy with the imperial assent attached. Britannia was once more at war.
End of Chapter 67/R1
And that, ladies and gentlemen, would mark the conclusion of my equivalent of R1. Which at 67 chapters and nearly six hundred thousand words actually makes this something like twenty chapters longer than Calculus' R1 arc, and that story's chapters actually tended to skew closer to the seven thousand word average. Meridian I've had quite a few chapters, including this one, breach the nine thousand word mark. So, yeah, make of that what you will.
Political rhetoric is always tricky to write, especially if I want it to not sound like complete nonsense. The idea is to show that the people who speak it have earnest reasons for their beliefs, reasons that are entirely reasonable due to their circumstances. Because not everyone shares circumstances however, it is rare that a belief would ever be universally applicable. And in a society that intrinsically does not endorse the concept of universal human rights, someone like William was always going to have difficulty getting a large chunk of the population to even grasp why seeking to avoid military conflict is a worthwhile pursuit in and of itself.
Back in Calculus, as the R2 arc progressed, I eventually reached the point where I showed that I had a much grander vision for things than most of my readers suspected. In fact it was so much bigger in scope that it turned off some readers. A bit of that was those readers genuinely were not interested in the route I took the story, but others I suspect it was also because I didn't properly set up some of the foreshadowing for it. Meridian, as basically a second effort at such narrative crafting, I believe I've laid much more groundwork, showing more hints of the grand order behind the mystery of code and geass in my world building. And it's only going to get bigger, so be sure to buckle in.
So over the course of the Battles of Hokkaido and Kyushu, the Empire fired off something like two billion Britannian pound sterling of munitions in the span of a few hours. In the process they sank something like a hundred billion pounds worth of enemy tonnage which, as tradeoffs go, isn't a bad one. Still, it should give some context as to how obscenely expensive modern warfighting is, as well as a sense of how long it would take to make good the losses suffered this day. For all practical purposes, the Chinese have lost an entire fleet and a half, while the Russian Pacific Fleet took a severe mauling. Then there were the very expensive planes lost all around. The Britannians did not exactly come out of this unscathed, though the exchange rate was in their favor. Still, this is the scope of risk involved with committing to such massive fleet actions. The amount of wealth being gambled is not inconsequential and can amount to a nontrivial percentage of a nation's entire GDP. Ultimately who will win this war will be dictated by (aside from authorial fiat) whoever can muster a larger economic base to supply the war. And even though it is facing two of the other largest countries in the world, the balance is not tilted against Britannia.
The F-35 in this story is visually very similar to the real-world F-35, minus the engine outlets and with a slightly different tail configuration. It doesn't have vertical stabilizers, basically, though it does still have a tail. Those that followed the development of the real-world X-35 may recall that Lockheed considered such an option, but reverted to a more conventional tail due to technical risk. Ultimately, my Griffin is not some sort of transforming flying knightmare. When I said that the Griffin was the closest thing to a flying knightmare the Empire has, it's because of its power system, which is based on an Yggdrasil drive. The Griffin is still a proper, actual fighter plane. Not a fighter jet though, since it doesn't actually use jet engines for flight.
As an aside, the lack of actual jet engines should tell all of you that the sound the Chinese sailors heard at Kyushu did not come from the Griffins.
To celebrate the completion of the R1 arc, have some renders of the two aerial aces of this chapter.
F-22 Raptor: deviantart dot com slash z98 slash art slash Roving-Raptors-954352796
F-23 Panther: deviantart slash com slash z98 slash art slash Prowling-Panthers-954352166