The Stage is Set. Badlands Arc #1

[koga]

General Kenji Saito sat looking out over the San Francisco Bay, surrounded by a small cluster of corporate and military advisers. He marveled at the way the fog swirled through the tall buildings, the skyscrapers and arcologies that made up the majority of the city. From here, atop the Osaka Building in the ancient (By these pitiful western standards) military base called the Presido, the Bay Area spread out before him, looking as an expansive sea of white, black, grey and orange.

The sea was dominated by the down town San Francisco ‘mainland’, a jutting, massive colony of fog-piercing buildings, rising in to the air. To the north, the Prefecture of Marin’s lights, while not breaking the clouds, did provide the orange/white glow that gave depth and dimension. To the east, Oakland’s abandoned business district stood silent as a graveyard of ships, ancient derelicts still lit by the occasional lights, the vessels stripped of sails, leaving only bare masts.

Just south of Oakland lay the foglights of the Oakland-Hayward sprawl, refugee of the subhumans, the gangs, the malcontents. Those who the Protectorate did not call friend, but by geographic quirk and political expediency, could not call enemy. The sprawl was commonly called ‘Orkland’ by the residents, a sign of defiance and rebuke to the Japanese Protectorate. It would be dealt with in time.

North of Oakland, lay the City-Campus of the University of Berkeley. The faculty and students had long been a thorn in the side of the Protectorate, with its pro-metahuman policies, its liberal ideologies and socially progressive image. Berkeley churned out many of the brightest minds of Engineering and Law, with a heavy arts and philosophy program. The universities presence did help to blunt the propaganda that came from the south.

No, the real danger was directly south, the brightly glowing forest of buildings there, the only island in the sea that could rival San Francisco. The city-state of San Jose, now grown by to include everything as far south as Gilroy and as far north as Palo Alto. Though surrounded by the Protectorate, Silicon Valley was one of the Crown Jewels of Ares Macrotechnologies, the pre-eminent North American Megacorp and probably the most dangerous threat, if indirect, to the Protectorate itself.

Turning reflection aside, the General returned to the discussion at hand, preparedness. The military advisors were returning the usual reports of high morale, extreme capability and so forth. One of the endemic problems in the Imperial Marines, was the cultural focus on face. This issue, where personal honor (And thus careers) could be damaged by the simple realities of delivering an objective report, led to the controversial institution of logistical officers for each main unit who were not part of the military chain of command and had no honor to begin with; Yakuza.

In exchange for the moderately higher rate of unit costs, the General had a bluntly accurate view of his 7 divisions from the top down much to the chagrin of those who served under him. It had become a curious ritual in the board room. A commanding officer would submit his glowing report. The logistical officer would submit a conflicting report and an honor challenge would be thrown by the officer. The logistical officer would beg forgiveness and offer to take his own life, by which the commanding officer would offer forgiveness.

The dramatic passion play would run its course and General Saito would have the proper data, the Colonels of the Divisions would feel they had met the obligations of Honor and the Yakuza remembered their place. It was, while not ideal, a perfectly satisfactory system and one that was far more stable and accurate than previous. The Imperial Marines had long been plagued by units which were fit for combat in paper, but woefully unprepared or undermanned in truth.

After the Colonels spoke, it was time for the economic assessments. The leading three advisors, one from Renaku, one from Mitsuhama and one from Shiawase, each presented an overview of their plans for California and where they anticipated growth and thus required protection. Below them, were a variety of AA level corporations from the homeland who were just now starting to branch in to North America.

All the corporations noted where land owners or rival domestic corporations were presenting roadblocks to Japanese development. With due diligence, the aides made competent notation of which Anglo institutions, both corporate and private, would be targeted for destruction and which would be negotiated with.

Kenji Saito was no fool. He understood the maxim that an army marched on its stomach. This was however, only partly true in the modern age. Despite the ability of a soldier to steal food from a population to feed himself, that same soldier could not very well steal the bearing assembly for an Oni class battle tank or one hundred gallons of JP-7, required to keep the small fleet of attack helicopters operational. No, for the necessities of running a modern army of any size, a support structure was required.

In severing his relations to the Japanese homeland by refusing the new Emperors call, he had effectively severed his logistical pipeline to the Imperial Marines. No new supplies would come from the homeland. Kenji Saito had simply substituted a national supply line for a corporate one, convincing the three main Japanese corporations that their North American holdings would be in danger if the Japanese pulled out all their military resources.

Playing on their fear of losing corporate market share and profit margins, and thus, personal face, Kenji had showed them that by investing in his actions, the corporations could be spared and again, thusly the managers. The transfer of supply lines was not perfect, and many things were in short supply, but it was far better than it could be had he done this without planning.

And Kenji Saito never did anything without a plan. The seven years since the severing of relations had proven that he had planned well. Controlling the center of the state, from Yuba City down to Bakersfield and Fresno, the Protectorate had become one of the largest agricultural exporters in the world, now feeding the very homeland that refused to feed the protectorate. It as it was, as Mr. Yoshi Tamamura of Renraku had suggested, ‘a delicious irony’.

California was now, for every practical intent and purpose, a corporate possession of Japan, owned by corporations, enforced by the Imperial Marines of the Japanese Protectorate. The only agricultural lands not in Japanese hands were the far north, along the Shasta border, and the far south nearer the Pueblo Corporate Council. These lands were the gathering places of the resistance fighters, in addition to the Sierra Nevada Mountains that bordered the Ute Nation.

The cost for securing those lands was deemed to be too high. After all, with the Protectorate in control of the good land, the economic centers and the distribution networks, the outlying areas would join peacefully or fall in to debt and be consumed in that fashion. Let the Californians maintain their illusions of independence, let them rail against the Japanese occupation, because the long term game was in the favor of the Japanese.
The Script Is Read.

“I believe.” Stated General Saito, his voice a deep baritone that left no doubt that he commanded respect and was used to getting it…”That it is time to move forward with the second portion of our operational plan.” He rapped his knuckles on the table as if to punctuate his statement, leaning forward then on his elbows, turning his attention to the advisory board. “To that end, Mister Toshiro, director of my intelligence service, will brief you. I need not ask that you give full credence to his words, for I know you will.”

Mister Toshiro stood from the oval table, his position near that of the Generals, to move to the window that overlooked the bay. The glass darkened until it was opaque, cutting out the view beyond and instead, being replace by a luminescent emblem of the Protectorates Intelligence Directorate. The light it cast put Mister Toshiro, not an athletic man to start with, in a sickly pall of blue-ish green light. “Good evening. Many of you were not present for our formative years. Some of the founding officers have retired to be replaced by honored subordinates.”

Mister Toshiro nodded to Colonel Tokogumi at this, to have his gesture returned respectfully. “While the Corporations have made a policy of regularly replacing our liaisons.”

The Corporate Advisory Liaisons did not receive a respectful nod, though this was not an insult.

“As such, I will attempt to lay out the first fifteen year plan in as much detail as possible while not overwhelming you with information.” A pause as he took a pitcher of water, pouring himself a glass. A contemplative sip later, he began his presentation.

“Fifteen years ago, in 2054, it became apparent that many of the possible candidates for the Imperial Throne may not be as attentive to the economic and security interests of Japan as the Honored Emperor had been. In the shortest possible explanation, many of our corporate allies began to look for allies within the Imperial Military, either to be in a position to stridently educate the new Emperor in the needs of the Empire.”

Mister Toshiro did not ever indicate that the Emperor may be inappropriate or wrong, for that would be treason to the Empire. It was a polite fiction everyone maintained for the purpose of face.

While Kenji Saito refused to answer the new Boy-Emperor’s call to return home, it was not because he was a rebel officer bent on carving his own empire, but because the Emperor was being misled by corrupt officials at home. This thin rational allowed him to continue to style himself as a Colonel of the Imperial Marines (Though he now styled himself General, the Chrysanthemum Throne had never seen fit to directly comment.) and to claim the honor of the Samurai. It was not a Military Coup that was planned, but an education of the Emperor. It was all in the rationalizations, the nuances of Face. It was not a rebellion that had taken place, but a pro-active maintenance of Japanese Interests.

“People loyal to the Empire entered the military, assuming posts around the world. One of which was Kenji Saito, of the Saito family of Mitsuhama.” A nod, again, of respect, was given to the General. “We anticipated 10 years to prepare, 10 years to have our assets in place before any issue should cause a change in leadership for the Empire.”

A pause, as Mister Toshiro sipped his water. One hand idly played with the glass for a moment as he pondered his words. “The events of 2062 forced us to reconsider this. The sudden and abrupt death of the Imperial Family, leaving only the young Yasuhito as the Heir caused chaos. Further, the losses compounded by the Huk uprising in the Philippines, the damage in Japan itself and the massive casualties forced us to reconsider the plan entirely.”

“But California was, at least, Northern California, was unscathed. Some damage was done, but nothing that destroyed operational integrity. The only problem was the Garrison Commander, who was a die-hard Imperialist. General Saito was able to convince him of his error and sent him back to Japan, assuming control of the six Divisions of Imperial Marines stationed here. After gathering support from the Corporations, he secured the Imperial Holdings of California and then expanded them to protect other Japanese interests.”

The emblem behind him shifted now to show the current borders of the California Protectorate, with various annotations for cities, bases and other points of interest. “Once we secured the protectorate, we initiated a seven year plan to ensure its continued survival. Key to this survival is ensuring that any regional government that could intervene or otherwise interfere was incapable of doing such.”

He paused again, the Pueblo Corporate Council’s current borders highlighting. “This is the government that concerns us the most. Given long standing issues with California, Tir Tarngire is entirely unsuited to providing any assistance to the California resistance and is instead more likely to assist us, provided we can keep the Metahuman Issue quiet.”

“The question of how to handle the Pueblo Corporate Council was a tricky one, but the invasion of Los Angeles later that year supplied us with the twin avenues of action. The Ute Nation is the poorest nation of North America, prone to xenophobia and to economic hardships. As a result, it was incredibly easy to manipulate. The last 7 years have seen both an expansion of Japanese interests in the Ute Nation offering virtually nothing in return. By carefully balancing the books and working to undermine local industries, we have managed to pay nearly no taxes and have driven many local corporations out of business.”

He paused to look to each adviser and officer, to ensure they were following along.

“The net result is low taxable income, and heightened unemployment. When you’ve a dry field, it does not take a large match to set it afire. The Ute Nation is poised to burn. We have been engaging in subtle propaganda, showing Metahumans and the Pueblo as the source of their problems. We have encouraged militarism among the people by providing both cheap, if second-line weapons systems and the military advisors to operate and maintain the systems. This creates an angry, hungry, fairly well armed nation on the border of the Pueblo Corporate Council and a chink in the armor of the Native American Nations.”

“The Ute were upset about Los Angeles, feeling they should have been invited to join in the invasion, while the Pueblo have secured all of the easy access routes in the south and deny their use to the Ute Nation. The northern avenues for invasion were heavily armed, with Truckee, Auburn and Tahoe being heavily fortified then and now. The Ute were effectively blocked out of invading California.”

“How to Neutralize the Pueblo Corporate Council will require more than just an angry, poor Native Nation with almost no industry. It will require something more. The PCC has a sizable, modern military and strong infrastructure. To that end, we have spent the last 7 years building relations with Aztlan and Aztechnology. Working together, we have continued to destabilize the Ute Nation to such a state that if we, together, pull out…the nation will collapse in chaos. This threat is what we will use to force Chief Walking Bear to war with the PCC.”

“Concurrent to this, the Aztlanners have long had Californian Designs. Due to the strong Pueblo State, Aztlan was unprepared for a sudden war in California eight years ago. They cannot risk a war with the CAS at this time, due to growing support for the CAS from the UCAS. The prospect of fighting both nations is a terrifying one for any nation, much less one that shares a physical border with them. We have promised Aztlan Los Angeles and the Death Valley/China Lake area in return for their assistance in bringing the Pueblo to heel and securing our border.”
The Denouement.

“All of the pieces are in place. Our military is to proper size to finish taking California and securing as far west as Wendover and Las Vegas. Our supplies are in place. Our logistics are secure. The Ute Nation will fall quickly while the Pueblo will be kept at bay first by the Ute and then by the Azlanners. Within a year, we will control a sizable territory, ranging from Santa Barbara to the Tir Tairngire Border, to the central Rocky Mountains. A powerful nation, a human nation, founded on the ideals of racial purity, Ethnic purity. Many groups desire ethinic homelands, and we have land to spare.”

“The only problem, at this point, is our manpower. We currently have 20,000 troops dedicated to the Metahuman internment camps as guards, as logistics and so forth. We need to somehow mitigate this, General.” Concluded Mister Toshiro, offering a curt bow. “All other matters are in hand.”

General Kenji Saito grunted a nod at that point, thinking it over. 20,000 active and reserves and the supplies for them. The internment camps were needed, as they provided labor to the corporate interests, in addition to being useful for keeping other populations in line with the fear. He stroked a hand down his chin, looking back the map. “Colonel Tanaka.”

“Sir.” Answered the willow-thin Colonel across the table, the commanding officer of the Internment division.

“How many persons are currently in the camps and long would it take you to liquidate them?” The General, as usual, was direct and to the point.

“Sir, we currently have…” A tapping on his personal datapad punctuated the Colonel’s words…”860,000 internees across 82 major installations.” He paused then, tapping again on the pad. “We could initiate liquidation within two weeks, and depending on how overt we wished to be, we could finish inside a month.”

“I see.” General Saito stood then. “And, my corporate Advisors, how would this impact your business?”

“Honored General.” Said Mr. Tamaura of Renraku, the nominal head of the corporate council. “The lack of labor would quickly become logistically problematic. We would incur significant costs and delays in our efforts to supply you. We would need some way to replace the labor.”

“Yes yes.” Said the General, pacing the room. “We require an alternate form of inexpensive labor. The internment camps are not, clearly, free labor as it takes a massive force of soldiers to guard them, the logistics to supply, feed, clothe and transport the workers.”

“Sir, the cost is roughly two Nuyen per day per worker.” Chimed in Captain Norito Nabura.

“Indeed. We have however, created our own answer.” Said the General then, turning to the others. “Ship in the unemployed Ute. Promise them prosperity, promise them work. But get them here. Once they are here, they will work freely and willingly…” A pause. “They won’t have a choice… and even poor work is better than no work.”

Colonel Tanaka nodded then, starting to tap out orders. “Then I should proceed with the liquidation?”

“Yes. Start organizing it. Take it slowly. Ensure that none knows what is going on. Ensure that the resistance is disorganized. Colonel Honda.”

“Sir!” Called the older, somewhat rotund Colonel.

“Your division is tasked with hammering the resistance. Hit them hard. Keep them off their footing. Never let up. Keep them from the camps. The last thing we need is more damn footage getting out. We will not be remembered as the Germans when all is said and done. We shall learn from their mistakes.”

“Aye sir. We shall make it so.”

“Remove them.” Intoned the General, stabbing a finger in to the heart of California on the map… “Remove them all.”