United States of Japan

by Peter Tieryas

  “Much,” Akiko replied.

  “What are you going to do if we bring back Mutsuraga’s head and they don’t reinstate you?”

  “I would accept my death if that is the Emperor’s will.”

  “I know you would. But how do you know that’s what he wanted? We’ve never actually heard him directly.”

  “Officers represent his will by proxy.”

  “You’re too smart to believe that.”

  “Even if I don’t, I follow the structure.”

  “If you followed the structure, you would have been led to your death with those two Kempei agents.”

  She was irked by his comment. “Do you have a point?”

  “What you just did–”

  “Was for myself. Not for the Emperor. Myself.”

  “Martha Washington could have helped us.”

  “She was never part of the plan to begin with. We proceed the way we were going to.”

  “And all that stuff you said to me last night?”

  “I meant it. But today is different. This is the woman who fed my arm to ants.”

  “You executed one of them in the first place.”

  “I was under orders. I didn’t want to kill Jenna!” Akiko stridently insisted. Ben was surprised she called Jenna by her name. “I told them it was a waste, that she could be rehabilitated. But the orders were absolute.”

  “Even if her death was absolute, the way you killed her wasn’t.”

  “Stop nagging me about details,” Akiko said dismissively.

  “These aren’t details. You can’t control yourself.”

  “I can. Like I said, this was a special exception.”

  “And next time when our mission is at risk and there’s another special exception?”

  “No one else fed me to ants.”

  Ben sighed. “I can’t take you with me.”

  “You think you have a choice?” she asked, in a menacing tone. “‘Oh, I don’t like the way she’s acting, so I’m going to leave her behind.’”

  “Are you threatening me?” Ben asked back and his temper caught fire. “I’m sick and tired of your threats. You want to shoot me too? Go ahead.” He grabbed her gun arm. “Shoot!”

  Akiko flung him away. “Back off, Ishimura.”

  “I mean it. I’d rather die here than get shot in the back.”

  “You know what that woman did to me.”

  “There’s more at stake here than just you and me.”

  “I understand that.”

  “Do you?” Ben asked.

  “I do,” Akiko said intently.

  Ben was about to reply when the ground shook and there was a loud mechanical screech. The tremors increased in strength and a geyser burst from the ocean. A head shaped like a mechanical jaguar formed in the water. Though water was sliding down its face, the shape was unmistakable. A Korosu class mecha – or was it one of the older Torturer class machines? Ben knew the older ones had more square chest plates, limited artillery in the arms, and did not have the laser cannons the Korosus had. They were more durable though and handled sea combat better. Regardless of class, if it wanted it could annihilate everyone on the beach in under a minute. Like most mechas, the shoulders and body were painted red to mimic samurai armor. They even had sheaths for their electrically charged swords which could cut buildings as if they were stalks of corn. The crew usually resided in the head, one-sided mirrors as eyes shielding the bridge. It walked up the shore and stopped when only its lower legs were underwater. There was a throbbing sound, the head scanning the beach from one end to the other.

  On the chest of the mecha, a hatch popped open.

  Kujira approached them. “The Musasabi,” he proudly stated.

  “There’s a pilot on the island?” Ben asked.

  “You’re looking at the world’s best mecha pilot,” Kujira boasted. “Do you think back in the USA, they really had it this good?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The game says the Americans lived with freedom, could think or say whatever they wanted without fear of being arrested or killed.”

  “I think it’s a bit romanticized,” Ben said.

  “Very romanticized,” Akiko added.

  “If enough people believed in that world now, we can have it,” Kujira declared.

  “Improbable,” Ben replied.

  “Before the Empire conquered half of the world, people thought the same about their chances of winning,” Kujira said. “C’mon. I’ll show you aboard my baby.”

  “You’re willing to take us?”

  “My mom told me she owed you a debt from a long time ago.”

  “That’s her debt, not yours,” Ben said.

  “One and the same.”

  “Not to me. You don’t owe me anything, Kujira. If you do this for me, I owe you.”

  Kujira lifted up his new portical. “Just send me new games every year or so and that’ll be enough.” He ran into the ocean and climbed up the ladder into the mecha.

  Akiko said to Ben, “A lot of people owe you debts.”

  “I don’t keep count.”

  “You really begged Martha Washington for my life?”

  “If I did?”

  “You’re an idiot.” Akiko tightened a lock on her gun arm. “You didn’t bring me along because we’re friends. You brought me because…” and she paused as she contemplated her words. “Because I can kill without hesitation or mercy. Let’s finish this so we can both either go our own ways or die trying.”

  Ben’s instincts were conflicted.

  “Do I really have to justify myself to you?” Akiko asked. “She left me alive to humiliate me.” She almost seemed penitent.

  “No more threats,” Ben stipulated.

  Akiko grunted her assent.

  Ben marched towards the mecha. “The chances of us surviving San Diego are slim.”

  “I know. Can he drive?”

  “If he takes after his mother, yes.”

  2:37PM

  “The Musasabi is way more advanced than any of the mechas I rode in San Diego and this bridge is actually comfortable to be in,” Ben said.

  “They’re all like this now,” Akiko said.

  “You didn’t see the old pits with pipes everywhere and steam blasting in our faces,” Ben said.

  The room was circular with Kujira at its center. Wires hooked into the muscles in his body, fine-tuned to match his nerve activity and amplify it. The stress of controlling the mecha took up so much of Kujira’s attention, his bridge crew of wheeled porticals handled most other activities including the regulatory systems and maintenance. They rolled about, though they had rotors if they needed to fly, making sure everything was in place. Ben and Akiko sat in chairs adjacent to the radar station. It was the general’s seat since it was a rare privilege for any officer to receive a mecha. The two chairs on either side were meant for aides. The Musasabi was in submersible mode, meaning it lay down horizontally in the water and became a boat with only the head rotating upwards to act as a submarine fin. Kujira was eating from a can of pineapples, resting while the portical circumnavigated the mecha through the ocean to San Diego.

  “Good mecha pilots are always in demand in the USJ,” Akiko said to Kujira. “Why didn’t you join the military?”

  “And be a lackey?” Kujira replied. “Kissing the asses of superiors for no credit? What’s the point?” He flung the can at the ground after he’d emptied it. The circular portical swept in and cleaned it up. “I’m my own boss out here and don’t have to toil away for idiots.”

  “You’ve never been in the military. It’s very diffe–”

  “My ma told me all the stories I need to know,” Kujira said with a snicker. “You think we haven’t made stops to the USJ? They’re always trying to replace us, first with homunculi, which were worthless. Then with cheaper pilots. We visited a base up in Vancouver, bunch of fresh recruits, thinking they could pilot mechas. Most slaved away so they could become auxiliary crewmembers at
best. The mechas up there are cheaply made, worth nothing against a real fighter. Prissy officers in charge who only care about their own careers and don’t even give credit where it’s due. Everyone just takes the abuse; yes sir yes sir yes sir thank you sir. Ma told me I could go back anytime I wanted. I’d rather eat my own barf.” Kujira went back to controlling the mecha.

  Akiko turned to Ben. “You agree with him?”

  Ben shrugged. “Bureaucracy sucks.”

  “You can either use it, or let it use you.”

  “I wish I was a better user,” Ben replied. “Cadre gave his mom leeway because she was such a good pilot. She told everyone exactly what she thought.”

  “What about you?”

  “I kept my thoughts to myself,” Ben said.

  “Maybe that’s why they didn’t take you seriously.”

  “When I told my ranking officers what I really thought, it only got me into more trouble. You have better experiences with your commanding officers?”

  “Even Tokko has bureaucracy and a ranking system based on seniority.” Akiko watched a circular portical speed by. “I didn’t like it. I was raised to believe only merit counted. My dad didn’t care about anyone’s background as long as they worked hard.”

  “He doesn’t know you’re in Tokko either?”

  “Both my parents think I work in a business associated with the army diplomatic corps.”

  “Why do you hide it from them?”

  Akiko’s eyes narrowed. “To protect them and to make sure they don’t worry about me.” Her reply was too quick to be convincing. “My father’s a strong believer in traditional bushido. He wakes up every morning and burns incense to the Emperor. He used to tell me stories at night about the Emperor’s divinity, how he was born from the sun goddess, Amaterasu, and desires peace for all of humanity. My dad would never understand how some aspects of bushido don’t work in a world like ours.” Akiko’s arms strained as she clutched the side of her seat and Ben could tell something was bothering her. “Do you think there’s any way you can check if they’re OK?”

  “Sure,” Ben said. “Can you give me their names?”

  Akiko provided the information. He did a couple checks before confirming, “They’re fine so far and I haven’t seen any chatter about them.”

  She sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

  “If we succeed, you can return as a war hero and tell your parents what you really do.”

  “If we fail, they’ll find out anyway in the worst way possible.”

  “Is there anyone in the world we don’t have to lie to?”

  Akiko thought for a second. “Ourselves.”

  “Most people still do.”

  “Most people still do,” she confirmed.

  3:14PM

  Ben thought about Mutsuraga and the past, contemplating the personal vendetta that had shaped the course of not just a few individuals, but a whole society. How many wars had been fought for personal jealousies? How many massacres a result of individual circumstance?

  “Hey, old man. We’ll reach Coronado Island in ten minutes,” called Kujira, while chewing dried fruits in his mouth. Coronado Island was just west of San Diego. Kujira started eating a pair of uncooked hot dogs and asked, “You two hungry? These turkey dogs are good.”

  Both Ben and Akiko assented. Ben found the sausage tasted like a rubbery boot that was still partly frozen.

  “My grandfather loved these, fed them to me all the time, said they were good energy sources for piloting. I always wondered why they called them dogs when there isn’t any dog meat in them.”

  “Your grandfather drove a mecha?” Ben asked.

  “He piloted Zeroes in the Pacific War. Used to say when he’d go up in the air and see ’em American pilots, he’d know right away how good they were. Memorized the stars, told me you had to have eyes in the back of your head, and he even cut off the wood antennae on the plane so he’d gain an extra knot. I’ve made custom upgrades to my baby too and I usually know the level of a pilot as soon as I engage them. Ma and me used to spar off Catalina in the middle of the night.”

  “Spar?”

  “Mecha spars. There’s a bunch of older models stored at Catalina, tough as hell, built to last unlike those new pieces of shit. Some of her old pilot buddies would sail out and we’d have duels in the–”

  The alarm suddenly went off and the mecha elevated quickly while simultaneously springing to its feet. They were close enough to shore that only half the body was submerged. Kujira was standing, all the wires hooked into his body humming. The navigational system corresponded to his direct motions and the transparent glass around him brought up the various scans and combat data.

  “What’s going on?” Kujira demanded.

  “Eight bogeys,” the portical answered in the artificially produced female voice of a senior Kujira. “Designation USJ.”

  “Whoa. This is off the charts. What’s going on out here?” Kujira asked.

  Ben stood up. “What’s wrong?”

  “I didn’t know they had such a strong security grid off the coast. It looks like there’s an army gathering on the perimeter and there’s battleships too. I’ve been up and down this coast hundreds of times and never seen this much heat.”

  Neither had Ben.

  “Who are you?” a voice blared on the communicator.

  “Identify yourself,” Kujira demanded back.

  “This is General Itoh from the 15th. This area is considered strictly off limits. Who are you with?”

  Through the glass screen in the eyes, Ben could see four mechas rise from the water. Behind them, four more approached. They were surrounding the Musasabi in a pincer formation. In San Diego, the mechas had gone unchallenged other than the biomorphs, which were impossible to control. Even kamikaze attacks by the USJ were futile as the mechas’ thick armor plating made them impervious to anything but atomics. Seeing the goliath warriors striding to battle, Ben looked to Kujira. Akiko was staring at him too. Kujira showed no emotion and finished his hot dog.

  “What you want me to do, old man?” he asked, food slobbering around his mouth.

  “The 15th is Governor Ogasawara’s personal battalion, right?” Ben asked.

  “I’ve heard of Itoh,” Akiko said. “She’s supposed to be one of the best mecha pilots.”

  “We’ll find out real soon if she’s that good,” Kujira said.

  “What are your options?” Ben asked.

  “Fight or run. Actually, scrap that. If we try to run, they’ll destroy us.”

  “We can’t fight eight mechas, can we?” Ben asked.

  “Put your straps on,” Kujira ordered.

  Ben and Akiko complied.

  The Musasabi placed both its mechanical arms over its head, propping the elbows forward like a spear. It spun in place, then charged the four stalking from behind. Those four quickly moved out of the way. The Musasabi didn’t stop running, fleeing the eight. Taunting laughter rang over the communicator. “Have you no honor?” Itoh shouted, reveling in their act of cowardice.

  The other mechas began pursuit.

  “What are we doing?” Akiko asked.

  “Running,” Ben answered.

  “Don’t tell me this guy takes after your gaming strategy,” Akiko groaned.

  The Musasabi bolted through the water. Kujira chortled and said, “Follow me follow me follow me follow me follow me.”

  Gyrating stabilizers kept the bridge somewhat stable, though the dash through the ocean was rough on Ben who wasn’t used to the frenetic jolt of the motion, even with the belt on. An island lay directly ahead of them. It was a labyrinthine construct, metallic anomalies protruding in errant piercings. In some ways, it resembled random paint strokes welded together. The whimsical patterns were connected only by their impressive height, meant to hide a mecha within. The whole bridge reeked of the smell of burning fuel, the internal organs in combustion.

  “What is that?” Ben asked.

  “Susano base, designed as
a testing grounds for mechas,” Kujira replied. “They checked locomotion and balance there. It was abandoned three years ago after budget cuts and news the Nazis were going to focus on Texas again.”

  Kujira drove the Musasabi into the entrance of the maze, which was narrow and only able to fit one mecha at a time. He veered left as soon as he entered and lurked right next to the entrance. The heat signature of three mechas drew close. As the first hostile mecha entered the maze, Kujira took out the electric sword, then smashed it into the chest plate of the one charging in. The force of the blow, combined with the speed of the other’s charge, resulted in a loud boom, the impact forcing the mecha back. Ben knew if he hadn’t been strapped in, the force would have flung him straight into the ceiling. Kujira raised his shoulder again and charged the mecha, forcing it to topple backwards into the mecha behind it. The mecha behind had its sword unsheathed, which then electrified the mecha falling into it. Kujira withdrew his sword, turned around, and dashed out of the way. An explosion severely damaged both mechas and impeded the path in. Smoke was swirling around them and fire consumed the armor.

  “Egg juice!” Kujira demanded. The circular portical brought a tall cup that had a dozen egg yolks in it. Kujira downed it. “These Vancouver-trained drivers just aren’t as good as the old timers.”

  He moved the Musasabi through the maze into several tower-like structures and lumbered up, each step causing the whole structure to shake. The finger joints latched onto orifices built into the spiral, nimble motions that would have crushed any organic thing with a push. One hundred meters up, Kujira looked through a one-sided opening that served as a vantage point for the entire island. A pillar of smoke obfuscated their view of the entrance, though four others were circling the base to try to find another way in.

  Kujira sat and the wires around him shut down. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when they break through,” he ordered the portical.

  “How long before that happens?” Ben asked.

  Kujira picked one of his teeth. “Fifteen minutes at least.”

  Kujira went to sleep.

  Ben looked back out towards the entrance. Two mechas tried to batter the wall to no avail.