The United Fleet
February 2125 - Straits of Tsushima - Edge of Korean territorial waters
The Nagato at port in Kure Naval Base. Dubbed a “neo-dreadnaught” by the Japanese, the classification stuck for lack of a better alternative. She would remain the only ship of her category.
Rear Admiral Guan clutched his seat tightly. Many of his colleagues in the navy, and especially the navy air arm, mocked him for his fear of VTOLs. It wasn’t his fault the damn things felt rickety. They just didn’t feel sturdy compared to fixed-wing aircraft.
“How far out are we?” he asked into his headset.
“About five minutes, Sir,” the copilot said with the professional calm that one needed to fly one of these rickety rustbuckets.
He took a deep breath and steeled himself. He had to make sure he didn’t look relieved once he got off. Ordinarily, a faux pas like that would earn him a good-natured ribbing from his peers. Where he was going, he didn’t quite know what to expect, but it probably wouldn’t be good-natured.
“Sir, we have visual contact at eleven o’clock,” the pilot said. “Damn. She’s a big one.”
“What museum did they pull that from,” the copilot added.
Guan glanced out the window towards the convoy. The ship was indeed massive, but it wasn’t old. According to their intelligence, it wasn’t even ten years old. But it looked like it belonged to the 20th century, not the 22nd. The Nagato was 273 metres long, had a displacement of about 67,000 tons and carried four 50 cm guns, supplemented by a battery of smaller guns. That made her, conspicuously, slightly larger than the Yamato, the ship she bore such an unusual resemblance to. Guan wondered if the ship had been Divine Emperor Tomohito’s or Minister-for-Life Furukawa‘s idea. He was confident that no navy man had asked for a ship like that. Guns like those had been outdated before the Yamato hit the ocean floor. Sure, reports claimed that she also carried anti-ship missiles, but those too were about 60 years out of date.
And while the Nagato took centre stage, serving as a propaganda piece (the only use it had), the rest of the fleet presented a conundrum. A dozen or so smaller gunboats, escorting a massive fleet of cargo ships. And they were loitering just outside Korean territorial waters.
From a purely military point of view, the fleet was a non-entity. Guan was sure the Korean air force could maul it with minimal losses. And that was without his own country or the rest of the EDA getting involved. The Russians hadn’t even put their Pacific forces on high alert.
But the fleet had requested to talk to a representative of the Eurasian Defence Agreement. And since talk was a lot cheaper than anti-ship missiles, they would get someone to talk to: Rear Admiral Guan.
The only reason he’d been chosen was the fact that he understood Japanese. That was a fact with some colossal caveats. He’d taken a class on it in university to help with his studies of the Pacific War. That was a long time ago. His attempt at a last-minute review late last night didn’t fill him with confidence.
The pilot took the VTOL in a large circle around the ships as he spoke on the radio. Guan saw the massive rising sun emblem painted on the deck of the Nagato as they passed. It was a symbol he’d seen several times in his textbooks, but only rarely in real life.
The convoy had caused quite an uproar and at a very bad time. The Imperial Chinese Stellar Navy was still recovering from the mauling it had taken at Alpha Centauri. The last thing they needed was the Japanese complicating matters. Most people in China didn’t care too much about the Japanese. They were an occasional source of nuisance and/or comedy. The war was almost two centuries old by this point. Most people didn’t think too much of it.
Not so much in Korea, and, if intelligence was to be believed, certainly not the case in Japan. Guan’s brother-in-law was Korean, and he’d called Guan as soon as the fleet was detected. He’d demanded to know what the navy would do (Guan couldn’t tell him) and how dangerous those ships were (not very). According to his sister, he’d been packing the essentials and was ready to flee Pyongyang at a moment’s notice. And he apparently wasn’t alone. Most of the peninsula seemed more concerned about the Japanese than the lilarobius.
“We’re cleared for landing,” the pilot said, taking the VTOL towards the Nagato.
For a brief moment Guan wondered where they would land, but then he saw the rising sun in front of them. The Japanese had an honour guard waiting for him. Guan steeled himself, making sure his distaste for VTOLs didn’t show.
When he stepped off, he had the steely gaze of a flag officer of the Imperial Chinese Navy. He was met by the equally steely gaze of a Japanese captain, dressed in a spotless dress uniform covered in medals. Completing the ensemble, he had a sword at his side. Guan bit his lip to avoid smirking.
“Welcome aboard, Admiral Guan,” the man said in German that would impress even the most old fashioned Prussian aristocrat. Guan bit his lip harder. So much for his knowledge of Japanese. Even here, half a world away from Europe, German influence coloured everything.
“Rear Admiral Guan, I am Captain Imamura, of the Japanese battleship Nagato. Admiral Ikegoshi is pleased that your government has sent someone to discuss these grave matters.”
What the hell are you talking about? The current situation is only you looking like you’re about to invade. Guan didn’t voice his thoughts and smiled. “The pleasure is all mine. I am sure we can have a fruitful discussion.”
“Please follow me, Admiral.”
Captain Imamura led him into the depths of the ship and it felt like stepping into a museum ship. There were exposed pipes and wiring all around him. Most of the pipes had analogue gauges. He wasn’t sure if he’d seen a single digital display since stepping aboard. The quality of the crew was also diminishing by the second. While the honour guard was filled with tall, imposing men, the rest of the crew looked malnourished. Most of them darted out of the way the moment they spotted Captain Imamura.
They entered the Admiral’s quarters. Guan hadn’t been sure what he had been expecting, but an approximation of a traditional Japanese tea room was not it. In the middle of the room, sitting on tatami mats while preparing tea, was an older officer. Guan could guess at his identity.
“Admiral Ikegoshi,” Captain Imamura said as he snapped to attention. “Rear Admiral Guan from the Eurasian Defence Agreement has arrived.”
“I can see that. Please, Admiral, have a seat.” Admiral Ikegoshi didn’t look up from his tea preparations. “Captain, please give us some privacy.”
The Captain snapped to attention again, then marched out, taking the honour guard with him. The door closed, and a quiet descended over the room. A quiet that was just wrong aboard a warship.
Guan racked his brain, trying to remember tea ceremony etiquette and if the Japanese etiquette differed. He took off his shoes and sat down in front of Admiral Ikegoshi. That seemed a good enough place to start.
“How are you finding the Nagato?” Ikegoshi asked as he poured two cups.
“She is like nothing I have ever seen.” Which was true enough.
“She truly is one of a kind. Though, as with all warships, I hope that she will never have to fire a shot in anger.”
He gave Guan one of the cups with a slight smirk.
“You requested to speak with a representative of the EDA.”
“I did. I would like to discuss the best place to land the troops under my command.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes. I have 80.000 soldiers loaded onto the cargo ships. We require a place to house them until they can be transferred into orbit.”
“To do what, exactly?”
“Why, to fight the aliens, of course.” Ikegoshi said it as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “Divine Emperor Tomohito conferred with Minister-for-Life Furukawa, and they both agree that the Lavis pose a threat to all of humanity. And given the spirit of cooperation between the other Great Powers, it would not do for an imperial power like Japan to merely sit on the sideline. Unfortunately, we lack the ships to aid in the fight, but when the time comes, Japanese troops will be the first to take the war to these murderous weeds.”
Guan took a sip from the cup, mostly to give himself time to think. The tea was some of the best he’d ever had.
“I will have to confer with my government.”
* * *
Anna Schumacher’s new international order got only two weeks before being put to the test. On the 6th of February, 2125, a Japanese task force was detected sailing from Kure Naval Base towards the Straits of Tsushima. At the centre of the task force was the neo-dreadnought Nagato.
The Empire of Japan had regularly made provocations towards the Russian, Chinese and especially Korean governments ever since their defeat in the Second Weltkrieg. While most of the time these provocations were merely diplomatic irritants, they had from time to time escalated into deadly confrontations. Three commercial airlines had been shot down by Japanese navy jets since the end of hostilities, the third happening well inside Korean airspace. Several ships had also been ‘commandeered’, their crews effectively held hostage by the Japanese government. During and following the 2059 Bitoku incident, the Chinese government was forced to bar civilian shipping from the Sea of Japan, fearing that the Japanese would sink freighters in retaliation.
With the Lavis War raging, the Chinese government had little interest in entertaining Japanese sabre-rattling. In a private message to Chancellor Ribbentrop, Chairman Guanyu Zhuang made it clear that he would brook no interference from the Japanese, and that he would sink the task force the moment it crossed into Korean territorial waters. Given the Imperial Japanese Navy’s poor state, the balance of power was firmly in the EDA’s favour.
While the task force wasn’t cause for concern in the halls of power, the same was not true among the common man. Most regular people were wary of what Japan might do, and how it could affect the ongoing war. Meanwhile, in Korea, this wariness escalated into full-blown panic.
The Republic of Korea had been born in the ashes of Japan’s colonial dreams. Much of the country’s early national mythmaking was based around resistance to the Japanese colonial overlords. And while the Japanese had officially renounced any territorial claims to the peninsula, it was clear from defectors and Japanese propaganda that Korea was considered an “occupied province of Japan”. Thus, when news of the task force broke, panic soon spread. This worsened when pro-Japanese 残留兵 (Zanryū-hei) clashed with ethnic Koreans and 海峡漁民 (Kaikyō gyomin)[1].
Korean anti-Zanryū-hei protestors in Busan. Given the city’s geographic closeness to Japan, it had a significant Kaikyō gyomin minority. These groups were typically outspoken opponents of the Japanese and would form the nucleus of any counter protests.
However, instead of crossing into Korean water, the commander of the task force, Admiral Ikegoshi, requested safe conduct to Chinese orbital transit stations. His force was indeed an invasion fleet, but one targeting the lilarobius.
This caused some difficulty for the Great Powers. While they were all pleased to avoid having to deal with Japan at such a delicate time they, and especially China, were not keen on giving Japan any degree of international legitimacy. But seeing as none of the Great Powers had any forces capable of a ground invasion[2], they lacked proper justification to dismiss the Japanese.
But one thing was clear, the Japanese could not be quartered in Korea. After a lot of back and forth between the Great Powers, it was decided to send the Japanese task force to Marseille, where they could be housed until (or if) they were needed[3].
At this point, a ground invasion seemed far off. Admiral Xu had spent the time to repair and resupply his new “United” Fleet. After months of work, he was prepared to take the fight to the lilarobius. In the summer of 2125, the fleet entered the Eissam system, coreward of Alpha Centauri. The victory was a minor one, as the lilarobius had not fortified their border systems to nearly the same extent as humanity had. It did however rouse the Ring Defence Fleet, which sallied forth to engage. Intelligence told Admiral Xu that he was outmatched, so he abandoned his gains and retreated to Alpha Centauri, which still had most of its defensive installations intact. The Lavis followed.
The Second Battle of Alpha Centauri was decidedly more one-sided. Without a single large warship serving as a flagship, the lilarobius seemed unsure where to focus their fire. Meanwhile, human forces were far more coordinated, leading groups of lilarobius warships into range of the defensive installations. Piece by piece, the United Fleet destroyed the enemy forces until they beat a hasty retreat. While humanity had taken losses and would need significant time in dock for repairs, they were nothing compared to the number of enemy losses. The Ring Defence Fleet, which had at the start of the war enjoyed an almost 2-1 advantage in ships, was now smaller than the United Fleet.
It was not just by destruction that humanity was gaining a numerical advantage. Back in Sol, the various shipyards were pumping out new corvettes with increasing speed. And these new warships were often deadlier than before, incorporating new technological advances that were being made at a breakneck speed. One of the biggest developments was the new Myrtenaster class corvette.
The Myrtenaster was the result of joint Russo-German developments, combining the existing Edelweiss hull with the autocannons of the Russian Retivyy-class. While the design lacked long-range firepower, both battles of Alpha Centauri had turned into close-range furballs where volume of fire was more important.
The biggest concern was getting the crews to man the ships. Between the massive naval expansion and frontline losses, there was an acute lack of personnel. Fortunately, there was no shortage of able volunteers. In Europe, the various German aligned nations would send busloads of volunteers to Kiel for an expedited training course. It was a similar story in Russia and China, though thanks to their large populations there was less need for the smaller EDA nations to contribute troops. Only Korea would man their own corvette, the 힘찬 (himchan)[4].
It was a different matter for Canada. Canada had long struggled with a relatively small population. This, combined with the negative view most Canadians had of the military, stifled recruitment efforts. And while Canada didn’t have as large a network of allies to draw from, they did have a more informal resource to their south.
Following the Third Civil War, the American Republic’s constitution had been amended to ban the federal government from having any armed force. Instead, the nation would rely on various local militias for defence. These militias were further prohibited from any action outside their home state unless invited. This system had been put in place in hopes of both curbing the cause of the civil war and the worst excesses during it. Effectively this meant that American citizens could by law not fight in the Lavis War until Lavis troops were landing in America.
This was naturally a problem, and there was wide public support for changing the law, but constitutional restrictions and internal political disputes (American politics was so factious that it made the Great Powers seem cordial) prevented this. There was, however, a loophole.
The Canadian military had long maintained the “American Legion”, where Americans could serve in exchange for Canadian citizenship and university tuition. Following the Mercenary Act of 1997, any such person would be arrested upon their return to America. Thus, service in the American Legion was defacto self-exile. There was a surge in applications with the start of the Lavis War.
Recruits to the American Legion who renounced their American citizenship in order to fight in the Lavis War. While officially considered criminals in their former homeland, among the public they were considered heroes making a personal sacrifice to protect their former homes.
With the balance shifting in humanity’s favour, Admiral Xu set out on a more offensive posture. Setting out from Alpha Centauri, he once again took control of the Eissam system before continuing on to take the Sidor system. This put Xu and the United Fleet on the doorstep to Lav, the lilarobius home system.
The situation in early 2128. While the changes to the frontlines were relatively minor, the strategic implications were massive. Now the lilarobius were the ones at risk of facing enemy orbital bombardment.
While many on Earth cheered at the prospect of taking the war to the aliens, Admiral Xu and the Great Power leaders were hesitant. While the Ring Defence Fleet was smaller, they had taken up position around the main Lavis shipyard. While not as heavily fortified as Alpha Centauri, it could tip the balance. In an interview after the war, Admiral Xu said the following: “It was looking like a fair fight. I didn’t want a fair fight. My job was to fight an unfair one.”
What followed was a standoff, as the United Fleet hoped to lure the Ring Defence Force away from its protective cover, while they tried to lure humanity into the station’s fields of fire.
It was exhausting work, as it required constant readiness from the crew. Sailors who had fought in the battles around Alpha Centauri remarked that the battles had been less stressful as “those were a few hours of absolute pandemonium. This was weeks of not knowing if today was going to be the day.”
The stress seems to have worn on the lilarobius as well. On the 9th of May, 2128, a message was received on the same frequencies that first contact had been made so many years earlier. Speaking on behalf of the Lavis Republic, High Councillor White Pine offered humanity “A stay of execution”[5] and a return to pre-war borders. This offer was rejected out of hand.
It is still unclear what prompted the Lavis to seek terms. The main theory is that the government was coming under increasing public pressure. With the United Fleet in the Lav system, the drive plumes could be seen from the ring by anyone with a powerful telescope. It is doubtful that government propaganda could cover up this fact.
Even before the war, the Raumstreitkräfte had identified the lack of strategic depth as one of their chief concerns. Only Alpha Centauri stood between Earth and Lavis space, and with Neu Brandenburg increasing industrial importance, humanity would have to hold this system as well. As such, the counter proposal was simple: humanity would take control of the Eissam system. This would give humanity breathing space and also put more pressure on the Lavis Republic.
The Lavis didn’t immediately respond, causing the standoff to continue for another week. Back on Earth discussions were ongoing regarding a potential assault on the ring, with Admiral Ikegoshi pushing for permission to send his troops into space.
When the lilarobius finally responded, it was succinct:
“We agree to your terms. Eissam shall be ceded to humanity. Your fleet is to leave Lavis Republic space at once.”
Humanity had just concluded its first interstellar war.
The post-war borders. While the rationale for seizing Eissam was primarily to give humanity more space to fortify, a side-effect was opening the hyperlane to the Holdebaana system. This would give humanity a path corewards.
[1] 残留兵 (Zanryū-hei), or Remnants, were the descendants of Japanese soldiers and civilians who were not able to flee Korea as the combined Russian and Chinese troops marched down the peninsula. Following the war these remnants faced significant legal persecution and often formed insular communities. As the military threat from Japan decreased and formal persecution lessened, they would often publicly call for a ‘union’ between Korea and Japan.
海峡漁民 (Kaikyō gyomin), or Strait Fishermen, were Japanese defectors and their descendants. Named for how defectors would often cross the Straits of Tsushima in old, decrepit fishing boats, this group was a lot smaller, in large part thanks to being much more willing to assimilate into Korean society. They naturally didn’t see eye to eye with the zanryū-hei.
[2] Both the German Heer and the Canadian Army had conducted feasibility studies of launching a ground invasion of the Lavis ring. Both concluded that the logistical requirements would be massive, and complete orbital supremacy would be needed. The way back to Earth would also need to be clear of any Lavis warships, which necessitated the neutralisation of the Ring Defence Fleet. As a result, all the Great Powers instead funnelled their resources into constructing new warships.
[3] The Japanese troops were welcomed surprisingly warmly once they arrived in France. While some of this was encouraged by local and national governments, a lot of it was genuine. Japanese troops, many of whom had never left their hometowns until military service, were given tours of the surrounding area and many troops fell in love with locals. Admiral Ikegoshi tried to clamp down on “fraternisation”, but with little success. Defections were widespread.
[4] The Nordic Union’s corvette Fryktløs had been one of the survivors of the First Battle of Alpha Centauri, but had suffered a catastrophic reactor failure while in transit back to Earth for repairs. She was lost with all hands. The Nordic Union did start work on a replacement, Modig, but she would not be finished until after the war.
[5] It is unclear if this was a translation error, or if this was the intended meaning.
