War by Another Name #1: Stuck in the Canal
From the very start of what would become Japan's sinking marathon, the verdict was clear: no chance of recovery. If the Olympics wrapped up like this, they'd be told to go compete in the Paralympics instead.
"Ah..."
Japan was already half-fainting at the news that their prized British-built battleship was stuck in the Suez Canal like a kidney stone, unable to budge.
"Kiyoooooot!"
True despair always follows hope. The retirement of mighty Great Britain, whom they'd secretly hoped would check Russia after Korea, hit like a thunderbolt.
But Japan's shock was irrelevant to Britain right now.
"..."
Yeah, Britain had bigger problems than Japan or Russia. The canal was blocked. To the world, Britain's power projection in East Asia had plummeted—exaggerated a bit—to one-fifth its strength. The wildly fluctuating stock market and dilated pupils suggested it might be even worse.
"Tea supplies are cut off!"
"We gotta go back around the Cape of Good Hope?!"
"The Great Depression is hereeee!!"
Tea prices quintupled overnight, driven by the invisible hand amid supply shortages.
"Call the cops! Call the MPs! You fucking bastards!!!"
Truth be told, most Brits couldn't care less about the Russo-Japanese war. Both sides were just barbaric "ooga-booga" to them. You could watch live broadcasts of that sort in Africa anytime—or maybe even Europe. What really mattered to Brits was always Chinese or Indian tea. You know, black tea.
And now that price had spiked. Because of the blocked canal.
The prime minister thought: I wanted something to chew on, not dentures getting stuck.
Trade volume with Korea, which had been steadily rising, flatlined like a stroke. The once-soaring trade balance crashed into the abyss. Tea prices up, jobs vanishing.
"We're fucked."
Faced with that harsh reality, frock-coated financiers, necktied bureaucrats, and fund managers alike saw the light fade from their eyes.
This was exactly why they'd tried digging the Panama Canal—to handle growing East Asian trade and project power properly. But that was that, and this was this. Panama had slipped from Britain's grasp, and even America was bogged down there. Reports confirmed it: waves upon waves of rocky hills.
At this rate, it'd take at least another decade. Field managers had begged over a hundred times to switch to locks, but politicians couldn't admit it—not with all the money already sunk in. That would mean owning their mistake.
Panama Canal or not, it was worth every penny and minute poured in. Doubters were just British spies eyeing the canal. Locks were too vulnerable to external variables. Anyone pushing them was a traitor—that's what politicians parroted all day. Look at Suez right now. Imagine locks in that mess. Variables can't be controlled.
The problem? Despite America's cash flood, those damn hills kept coming, dragging construction out forever. So at this moment, the world had no Suez or Panama. Paths blocked.
Isolationism times three thousand.
Thanks to some madman's doing, Europe and East Asia were split into economic blocs for the first time since the Age of Sail—a historic regression from the pirate era back to great voyages. To trade, you'd have to sail the Cape like your ancestors a century ago.
To the world's citizens in this mess, the current Russo-Japanese war was just a scene from that revived Age of Sail. The Baltic Fleet coming around the Cape? Whatever—Russia planned to settle it on land anyway. Japan had seized objectives but was forced into a land fight. Both nations reached one agreement: a dogfight.
"Banzai!"
"Ura!!"
For Japan, they needed to occupy Siberia before the Baltic Fleet arrived, squeeze out resources, dig trenches, and hunker down. For Russia—specifically the Siberian Military District—they had to seize momentum before their Baltic Navy showed. Siberia was their home turf.
The issue? Siberia was too damn big.
Frontlines widened daily, reinforcements poured in endlessly. Siberia was pleasantly warm right now—perfect for fighting, if you ignored the mud pits and swarming mosquitoes. Both sides were egg soldiers anyway; they could slog it out.
Thus began the muddy dogfight. Japan's force, originally under 100,000, ballooned to 300,000 via conscription, now hitting 1.5 million. Russia started with a million, plus another million chugging east along Siberian rail lines.
We have to win.
Ching ching.
Fronts too vast, terrain turning amorphous, battles sporadic, accidental, relentless. Russia had no retreat anyway—Japan was behind them. Besides, if they lost, Korea would mediate. Korea's ongoing friendly diplomacy with Japan gave them one certainty: even Shibusawa figured Korea wouldn't let Russia swallow Japan whole. They'd sell them to America first.
A mutt whose yard got invaded, and another egging it on trusting its master—two prideful mutts scrapped in end-of-the-world style across Siberia.
Summer. Siberian summer.
Fall. Fall in the Korean Empire.
"We will resist all attempts to make India independent."
"Threaten that if India goes free, Korea will bleed too."
Britain sat down opposite East Asia, cringing for the first time. The Supreme Leader had said come for fishing rights talks, but that couldn't be it.
Surprisingly, he meant it—literally fishing rights.
Britain, famed for its seas. How great to fish their waters? The world had retrogressed to a pirate-flavored Age of Sail, likely for years. Like Dutch golden-age fishermen, netting fish was the play. Freezers existed now too.
New diesel engines shone in compactness. Just ambush-refuel—no heavy steam boilers guzzling water and coal.
To the Supreme Leader, that meant haul in fish like crazy. Flood the seas with small boats, snag every fish, whale, the lot.
Before those limeys wise up and hog it all!
So as soon as diesels dropped, he repurposed torpedo boat factories into trawler mills, reeling in fish nonstop. Ports? Limeys would build 'em anyway—why bother? He just made piers. Fish first.
Caught hauls rode refrigerated trains to central markets in each region—Costco for seafood, basically fisheries.
Inland had never eaten fish; it was conceptually impossible. The Supreme Leader made it real. Latest American freezer tech from beef imports, rails blanketing the nation via ground-up Chinese labor, British diesel and oil. Plus his decree spawning duty-free fish markets.
Korea pioneered inland seafood markets worldwide—beating Britain and America.
He needed tangible results, period.
Problem: This breakneck inland market push vacuumed nearshore stocks too fast. Overfished hard. Leader's orders, superiors' iron grip, underlings' ass-kissing quotas—classic bureaucratic fuckup.
Built too many boats, crammed too many Chinese crews. Didn't realize they'd dry up years' worth of fish.
Couldn't stop dumping cheap fish now—people were hooked on the extra side dish.
Hence summoning the ambassador for real fishing rights talks. Most "deep-sea" fishing was nearshore anyway. Fish live close in. Coastal, not oceanic. Open ocean's for tuna.
Iceland vs. Britain? Brits sent deep-seamers for cod off Iceland's coast.
"Territorial waters" unfamiliar yet, so deep-sea ops demanded prior fishing rights pacts with Britain. Or vanish from maps unnoticed.
Canal blocked or not, British East Asian clout fading or not—the pragmatic Supreme Leader offered tribute for protection. Hence the ambassador.
Issue: Paranoia-stricken Britain read fishing rights as something else entirely.
That was it. Eyes see what they want.
You got a lotta sea?
Cough up the Pacific—no, Indian Ocean.
No battleships? I got Gao-class.
Look at 'em—threats right after the canal jam. India's unrest, swelling pre-blockade, now feral. Bengalis dumping British tea in the Ganges for easier Hindu-Muslim admin splits? Obvious puppetmaster: Korea right here.
Sadly for the Leader, Britain had studied how he cornered others. Now they felt cornered. Who'd corner mighty Britain? For what? Methods, motives—all pointed to Korea.
Obvious. No evidence needed. Skill, savvy, interests screamed it.
Britain accepted, via five stages of grief, that their "partner" hid the knife in the shadows—and bore grudges aplenty. They'd caused this mess, ignored it, or pushed it.
Post-Korea boom, Britain botched everything in East Asia. Korea elevates its Empire supreme, kicking Britain out...
Maybe even the canal was Korean work. Leader'd snap "Who you calling British?" but if asked "You block it, right?" he'd sweat Busted?
MacDonald pitied yet understood the Leader wasting time on fish. After squeezing his balls to puke concessions last time, now make Britain vomit from its own mouth.
Fish talk till then.
East Asia's wide open.
Raised as China's bully-check, perfect timing to turn blade on master—artistic.
Problem, even to Donald: threats might work now. Britain had zero spare forces. Eight old battleships were huge spend—national power-level—and premature. Replacements unfinished. Now those eight headplanted in the canal.
If Korea floods India with arms? Burma Road ammo dumps? Irreversible river crossed. Armed Indian independence unravels Great Britain, sparking Irish freedom. Then Ireland hugs Germany, France, or America—Britain done.
All-or-nothing for Britain. No yielding on fishing rights.
Supreme Leader baffled why these fucks flipped out. Talks idled in neutral.