Two tanks fired at her. The mecha took two blows to its flank, but focused on the tank beneath her, making sure to destroy it completely. The biomorphs prepared to shoot again. The Harinezumi stood up and lifted the tank corpse, using it as a shield. The artillery pounded the tank’s underbelly rather than her chest. Kujira threw the tank at the two of them and used her legs to swiftly get to her prey. She used the sword on one, sundering it into four pieces. She pounded its companion with her fists until the top caved in, crushing the biomorph pilot inside even as it continued to struggle.
Bullets hit the final tank from behind. American civilians on the ground were sniping at it.
“What are those idiots doing?” Kujira muttered. “They just realize they can’t control this thing?”
The biomorph, irked by the bullets ricocheting off its shell, turned its attention to them. With a blast from its cannon, it wiped out the resistance. It didn’t stop with the shooters, wreaking havoc on the rest of the area. Constant flatlines flashed on the display. Porticals took records of those who had identification on them, registering casualties. Though they were short blips, Wakana noted most of them were USJ citizens who had no idea what hit them. Ethnicities went across the board from Mexican, French, Brazilian, Chinese, Indian, Austrian, Australian, and more.
“Doesn’t she have orders to retreat?” Ben whispered to Wakana.
“Tosuiken,” Wakana replied, referring to independence of field command. “Aboard the mecha, she’s daigensui, or supreme commander.”
“Kill the tanks, we only leave the rebels alive until our soldiers kill them. Let that final tank go, and it does our soldiers’ work for them without putting them in harm’s way,” Kujira said, questioning herself, contemplating the horrible and more horrible she’d referred to earlier. “Either way, innocents won’t be spared, or will they? Will our soldiers be able to separate the dissidents from bystanders in a way the biomorphs can’t?”
“Are you asking me?” Wakana asked.
“It’s not like you can give me an answer,” Kujira replied, not as a rebuke, but matter of fact.
Kujira’s eyes went to the final tank. She swapped her sword for an artillery gun and fired a volley at the Panzer Maus IX. These attacks were much fiercer than anything the Americans could hurtle. The super tank turned and charged back at the mecha.
Kujira waited for the trajectory to line up. Red lines calculated the distance on the portical screen, beeping and alerting her when the angles matched. The target lock connected and the Harinezumi slashed the tank in half. Kujira did not wait for the biomorph to recover. The Harinezumi leaped forward, thrust its hands into innards of the tank, which was filled with the camo fluid they’d seen earlier. A human registered on the portical screen, though Wakana and Ben couldn’t see anyone through the liquid. Kujira crunched her fists and the monster within died. The biomorph melted into a reservoir of rancor and loathing.
Kujira put both her palms together and did a slight bow. “You all fought valiantly,” she said to honor the biomorphs. To Wakana, she said, “It’s fifteen minutes from here to Otay.”
“Will you be OK?”
“We’re alive, aren’t we?”
“I mean disregarding the orders.”
“If I’m not, I’m not. Shikata ga nai.”
“You don’t have to worry about the calls,” Ben said.
“What do you mean?”
“Just don’t worry about it,” Ben assured her. “I’ll take care of those for you so that there won’t be any record of it.”
Kujira looked to Wakana who shrugged. “He’s good,” Wakana confirmed.
“You’re that good with a portical?” Kujira asked.
“I can manage myself,” Ben replied modestly.
Wakana checked his portical, realized all external connections were cut off. “Is there an internal kikkai field?”
Kujira gave him the algorithms to connect. Wakana read the latest reports.
“There’s been thirty suicide attacks on military installations in the last hour,” he gloomily stated. His fingers nervously shifted along his belt. “Total annihilation of the civilian force is the only way this can end now. Under the circumstances, Lieutenant Colonel Mutsuraga will be promoted, as will Captain Yoshioka. The captain will be surprised to hear he is now considered a war hero and is up for the San Diego War Medal – the first jugun kisho of our fight.”
“Is Tokyo Command disappointed?”
“They will want this situation resolved as quickly as possible.” Wakana gripped his staff, wishing he could destroy it.
They arrived at Otay base without any further complications.
“Thanks again for the lift,” he said to Kujira.
“Go kick someone’s ass for this,” she replied.
“I’ll try.”
9:12PM
Wakana charged into Mutsuraga’s office. Mutsuraga was at his desk, holding a bottle of alcohol, the top of his uniform loosened.
“Are you happy now?” Wakana demanded.
“Watch your tone, major,” Mutsuraga replied.
“You got what you wanted, sir.”
“What’s that?”
“All-out war.”
“You’re blaming me for this?”
“I am.”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“I know you sent Yoshioka! He was just bait for me to chase, wasn’t he, while you sent your real bomber? We could have had peace!”
“I lost my wife out there today!” Mutsuraga snapped. “Don’t you dare talk to me about peace now! I will hunt down all the GWs.”
“Why would a GW set off a bomb on his own people?”
“Because they’re stupid brutes!”
Two guards rushed in, looking to the lieutenant colonel to check if they should take the major away.
“I will expose you,” Major Wakana said. “You and your miserable jealousy that’s going to lead to the death of countless innocents. Don’t you have an ounce of humanity in you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your wife and Andrew Jackson!”
Mutsuraga snarled, stood up, and charged Wakana. Before they could exchange blows, the guards blocked the pair from each other.
“How dare you speak against my wife now of all times!” Mutsuraga shouted.
“Don’t act so righteous!” Wakana shouted back. “You think I don’t see right through you?”
Mutsuraga went for his sword, but the guards stopped him. Mutsuraga slapped the guard. Ben, who was behind, grabbed Wakana and dragged him out.
“You should have challenged Jackson to a duel yourself instead of sending a lackey to do your dirty work!” Wakana shouted.
Ben tugged and pulled while the guards shut the door as soon as Wakana was out.
“Major Wakana!” Ben yelled. “You need to calm down, sir.”
“That son of a bitch has plunged the Empire back into an unnecessary war and put our soldiers into harm’s way.”
“He just lost his wife.”
“You think his feelings matter when you compare it to all those who’ll suffer now? You saw how many were killed by those biomorphs. When things get–”
“What’s going on here?”
Both of them turned and saw a young teenage girl approach. Wakana recognized her as Mutsuraga’s daughter, Claire. He stepped aside and did not say anything. “Ben? What happened?” Claire asked. “They said something happened to Mom.”
“You should talk to your father,” Ben answered.
Claire approached her father’s office and entered. Mutsuraga was still angrily railing when he saw his daughter.
“Dad, where’s Mom?” she asked.
She shut the door behind her.
Wakana twirled his mustache. “Who won today?”
Ben shrugged. “I plugged in some new variables earlier. The simulation predicted two scenarios. The Empire will eventually prevail after a bloody series of battles, or the cost will be so severe, it will end
in stalemate.”
Wakana looked at Ben. “I know you’re the one who really built the simulation. Part of why I was here was to expose Mutsuraga. But I don’t think that’ll do much good now.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking ab–”
“Don’t try to deny it, lieutenant. Enough lies for one day. Tomorrow, carry on your farce. But for today, give me the truth. Why did you do it for him?”
“Sir, I don’t know–”
“I deserve better than another lie. Just tell me why.”
Ben stared back at Wakana, assessing. “No one took anything I did seriously. No one trusted me. They thought I didn’t deserve to be there, and when I refused to kiss their asses and do my best to prove myself to them, they shut me out. I tried, I really did, but the other students and teachers at BEMAG ridiculed me and sabotaged my work. They felt I was a disgrace to the corps and had no idea what I was doing. All except Mutsuraga. He was an instructor and he made a deal with me. People would use my simulation and play my game, but he would get all the credit. It was either that, or have it buried forever.”
“Do you still do the programming?”
“I’ve trained others so that much of the day-to-day is done by them.”
“Why not you?”
“The lieutenant colonel doesn’t fully trust me either,” Ben replied.
“Does he have cause?”
“Does he have cause not to trust you either?”
Wakana’s eyes tightened. “I can help you get another position.”
“I like my job right now.”
“And what is your job right now?”
“Lazy dilettante in the middle of a war.”
“When this disaster is contained and if you survive, they’ll open up a gaming division. They will need people to run the censor’s office. I could put your name in for it.”
“Why would you do that for me?”
“You’re my former student, Ishimura. Anything amiss with me helping you?”
Silence slipped between them.
“I do enjoy being a censor,” Ben finally said.
“You’ll get to see the seeds of your creation grow.”
“To censor them?”
“To cultivate their growth,” Wakana said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Life is all about lies. It’s about what you can stomach. If you hadn’t let Mutsuraga take the credit for your work, he would not be in this position of authority and today’s bombing would not have happened.” Ben was about to protest, but Wakana continued, not wanting to hear any defense. “The bigger capacity you have for tolerating deception, the higher up you can go. I don’t think I’ll go very far, especially as I will write the truth about Mutsuraga, even if my report gets ignored… Then again, it would be nice to call the shots rather than being at the whimsies of mad officers with more stars. Sayonara, lieutenant.”
Ben saluted as Wakana left.
11:41PM
It was late when Wakana finished up his report and returned to his private barracks. Right outside, there was a lineup of fifteen American prisoners. One tried to escape on foot and was shot. The others got rambunctious and were executed. The bullets echoed death’s siren muted by gunpowder dissipating into smoke. Wakana was about to enter his room when he remembered he forgot to bring one of the printed files he needed to transcribe into his portical. He went back to the office again and overheard voices arguing in the hall. It was Ben and Mutsuraga’s daughter, Claire.
“You’re not telling me the whole story,” she said.
“I’ve told you everything I know.”
“None of this makes any sense,” Claire protested. “I can tell Dad is lying, but I don’t know why. Just tell me what really happened.”
“You heard his story.”
“I’m always straight with you. You need to level with me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t bullshit me.”
“I’m not.”
She sighed. “Mom was with the Americans, wasn’t she?”
“She was.”
“Was it a church event?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you know?”
“That it’s an unforgivable event,” Ben said. “I’m sorry.”
Wakana grabbed his file and returned to his residence. His soundproof walls blocked off all noise of the battle raging throughout the city. A glance at his portical indicated total civilian casualties were high, as intended. Wakana turned off the light and lay down on the bed. He blinked several times and covered his head with a pillow, turned sideways in bed. He scratched his scalp, adjusted the position of the blanket so that none of it was under him. Clearing his mind was difficult and he tried not to think about Yoshioka or Andrew Jackson or Beniko Ishimura. He looked ahead, and for a moment, he saw someone that caused him to shudder.
He thought back to Vietnam, the order to burn down a village that was allegedly harboring terrorists. Even when he’d called back to tell Command that it was only women and children, that they should rethink their plan, they’d refused to rescind the order.
Wakana turned all the lights back on, got off the bed, and went to the sword. The edge of the blade was sharp and he slid his fingers along it until they were bleeding. The pain stung and distracted his mind. Wakana returned to bed, blood dripping from his hand. He wiped it over his forehead, hoping the crimson would wipe away his self-loathing. It stained his flesh, but didn’t make things any more pure; instead, dousing him in the bloody red of guilt.
PRESENT
LOS ANGELES
July 3, 1988
2:43am
* * *
Akiko hoped it was a dream. She thought she felt her fingers moving, swore her elbow was bending. But when she tried to turn on the light, the blunt end of her artificial limb knocked the lamp over. The medics had replaced both arms; one with a temporary prosthetic that could simulate the basic motions of a finger and looked almost normal with a glove on; the other with a flesh-colored tube that could be fitted with weapons, triggered by the muscles in the triceps or, alternately, by a lever to its side. The specialists were making a more accurate hand out of silicone based on previous bioscans, but the transradial half wouldn’t be ready for another week.
She missed Hideyoshi, wondered if she should call him. She thought about her parents, still not sure how she was going to tell them what happened. Her father worked as a foreman in construction so she’d seen her fair share of accidents, his co-workers having limbs crushed. The doctors had effective anesthetics in their arsenal, allowing most to live free of pain with their artificial parts. She remembered one of her father’s friends had both his legs mashed when a wall collapsed. He used to be such a cheery man. After the accident, he sulked, rarely spoke, and drank his woes away.
She thought of the reports she’d read about medical units in Vietnam that were aggressively stepping up their experimentation with limb regrowth, particularly considering that so many of their soldiers had their arms chopped off by the guerillas. The research had been progressing slowly and was nowhere near the point where they could consider full regeneration.
Two men entered her hospital room. She recognized them from the night before as agents of the Kempeitai. They’d questioned her about what had transpired after the GWs released her. Had it only been two days? She’d spent the majority of the previous day in surgery. Anesthetics kept her in a muzzled daze, neither awake nor sleeping.
The agents were twins, had black hair and stiff torsos filling out their wrinkle-free gray suits. They were the same height, had the same short haircut, and gesticulated the same annoying scowl. Agent #1 wore a red glove on his left hand and Agent #2 wore it on his right hand.
“We have a lot of questions for you,” Agent #1 said.
“Good. I have lots of questions too,” Akiko shot back.
“Who are you working for?” Agent #2 asked.
“For the Empire,” Akiko replied, indignant that
it even needed to be asked. “My commander is General Wakana.”
“You started in the diplomatic corps?”
She shook her head. “They had a program with BEMAG to send us all over the world as part of their recruiting efforts, but I never actually joined.”
“Which cities did you travel to?”
“Beiping, Keijo, Berlin, Tojo City, and more,” Akiko said.
“You went to Hanoi?”
She looked at both agents, not liking the tone of their question. “It was before the second rebellion and only for two days.”
“How did you like your time in Indochina?”
Akiko took a moment to remember its old name before they’d cast it off and called themselves Vietnam in an act of independence. “The city was booming under Imperial rule.”
“The Empire instilled order after the seisen,” Agent #1 said, referring to the Holy War that united the world under the graces of the Emperor’s hakko ichi’u. “Our army built hospitals, revamped public transportation, made education completely free for everyone, and eliminated hunger. Why do you think Vietnam is resisting the Empire so long?”
“There’s reports that the Germans have secretly been fueling their discontent, encouraging them to separate,” Akiko said. “But I don’t know why anyone would resist the honor of being part of the Empire.”
“Do you agree with Tokyo Command that it’s important to preserve the pro-Empire faction against the independent rebels?”
“If it fell, it would result in a domino effect of unrest in the whole region,” Akiko replied.
“Do you speak Vietnamese?”
United States of Japan Page 17
