Resumption of Communications (10)
Lee Man-cheol was dead. But the special forces who'd joined Operation Flame Storm had grabbed some mid-level officers instead of the main bird—they called it "chicken instead of pheasant." Interrogating them gave us a clear picture of what had gone down. It didn't stray far from our guesses, but it solidified our intel.
"..."
The lieutenant sitting across from me was named Kim Cheolju. He'd been clutching the radio in the communications room right after the explosion and blackout, got zapped by the electricity, passed out, and got dragged here. He was handcuffed, with just a desk between us. His mouth was shut tight.
Just leave it to me and it'll be simple.
"Thirsty? You haven't had a drop since they nabbed you."
I shook a can of beer right in front of his eyes. His bloodshot gaze darted after it.
"Rear-echelon types like you aren't easy to come by, right? Before it even reaches your lips, some field officer's gonna snatch it away."
Fresh from the fridge, the can was covered in condensation and frost. Mouthwatering just to look at.
Why bother with this inefficient persuasion when you have the power of science?
I ignored the beautiful voice echoing somewhere in my head.
"My colleague here's got a different style from me. Total efficiency nut—no blood, no tears."
I mimed injecting a syringe into my wrist, and Kim Cheolju's eyelids twitched.
"Your call. Truth serum in the vein or truth serum down the hatch—which sounds better?"
I set the beer can down on the desk near his cuffed hands.
Chik.
He popped the tab without a second thought.
Gulp... gulp... glug.
"Kahaa."
He downed more than half in one go and let out a big sigh.
"Jeju's a lost cause anyway, so we figured the rest of us might as well survive. That's it."
He muttered softly.
"If survival's the goal, shouldn't you stick together and share intel? Why the mutiny?"
"Yeeeah."
Cheolju's tone dripped with sarcasm.
"What?"
"Just surviving ain't enough. Gotta live well to make it worth it. This shithole world's dragging us into the gutter?"
He smirked and shook his head.
"No way in hell we'd stoop that low, even out of spite. We've been busting our asses to keep everyone alive so far, right? That's plenty. Can't keep demanding sacrifices forever."
Gulp. He took another swig.
"Doesn't add up anymore. Time we got some payback for all the blood and sweat. That's what got everyone riled up."
Was it because he'd already accepted death? Or just given up? He stared me down fearlessly, spilling everything.
"If Lee Man-cheol was just a figurehead, who's the real boss?"
I asked.
"No one specific. We're all bosses, all commanders. Sure, ranks still matter, and we use polite speech. But in this dead world, abandoned by everyone—what's that shit worth to soldiers left behind? Bowing 'cause some asshole holds fewer shares in the shareholder meeting?"
"Ha, shareholders, huh?"
Crude metaphor for the army, but it fit Gohung's forces perfectly right now.
"You guys the ones who shot the major general and sparked the rebellion?"
"Nah, Lee Man-cheol shot the major general, alright. The prick said he was heading to Jeju alone. Some officers overheard by chance, burst in, and tried tearing him apart alive. Years of being treated like consumables built up a lot of resentment."
"Why'd he have to shoot him himself?"
"Major general or colonel—same high-and-mighty scum. Probably worried their rage would turn on him next. Bam! Right there on the spot. Solid performance. Calmed down the hotheads."
A bootlicker's quick thinking had snowballed into a massive rebel force.
"After that, he was stuck riding the tiger, huh?"
"Yeah. Dodged the flames by shooting the major general, but the officers' grudges lingered, he was still watching his back, and now he was a murderer too... Had to do something to survive."
"And lawless chaos let the insubordination creep up from below?"
Kim Cheolju nodded.
"Cut off from the Jeju government, warlords popping up everywhere, and these superhuman kids getting orders from some old fart they could squash with a finger? No way they'd stomach that. Especially since the guy's got that long-range artillery. They chipped away at the easy marks. Paid lip service, though."
"..."
In the rest of the interrogation, Cheolju coughed up info willingly enough.
"What was the explosion? Insurance to stop bullshit like Lee Man-cheol's escape, I'm guessing. But who set it?"
"No clue. I don't know everything. Gohung's command structure now is like a room full of curtains. Lee Man-cheol's probably at the center."
He mimed pulling back a curtain.
"Pull one back, and whispering officers. Pull back theirs, more whispering officers. No one knows how far it goes."
Cheolju knew the rebellion's backstory well—like a history lesson on post-infection warlordism. But no real strategic gold.
"Thanks for cooperating. You'll head to Yeosu."
"Ha... damn it. Can't I just stay here?"
Kim Cheolju upended the empty can, sucking the last drops.
"Sorry, you're no use to us. Can't trust you anyway."
His face darkened fast.
"Don't sweat it. You think they'll shoot you?"
"Feels like it. Forgot how we wrecked their outposts? To them, I'm blood enemy and rebel!"
I grinned.
"Good luck."
"You bastard!"
The waiting robot slammed a hood over his face.
Thwack!
"Urk!"
And punched him once.
Insolent bastard.
She was pissed. Guess she'd held back while I was interrogating.
No matter how much of a puppet Lee Man-cheol was, his symbolic weight and influence as top commander were huge. Like Cheolju said, his officers were swept up in grudges and ambitions. Protecting the nation? Long forgotten—personal survival and glory first.
They'd stuck together out of convenience, but rivalries festered.
'Better Lee Man-cheol listens than take orders from that major just one rank above me.'
The top brass alone kept some friction in check. Then poof—gone.
One assembling group left that curt message and bugged out to their base. That sparked cracks everywhere in Gohung's forces.
Officers obsessed with unity tried clamping down. Inevitable infighting with opportunists and deserters.
It escalated to combat.
"Fire! Keep firing!"
Gunfire, explosions, screams echoed across a vast, sand-swept lot. This was Gohung's vehicle scrapyard, set up during the Jeju evacuation op in the infection war. As supplies, troops, and gear piled into Gohung, useless equipment got scrapped here—and usable parts salvaged.
Abandoned vehicles became cover. Soldiers hid between them, shooting at each other.
"Maintain fire! Don't need kills—just keep their heads down!"
The machine gunner's bursts sparked off a rusty vehicle. Nearby prone troops hosed bullets too.
"Aaaagh!"
Cover soldiers bled out one by one.
"Keep moving! Stay here and we're all dead! Everyone to the right!"
An officer tried shifting troops to safer ground, but no one budged. Bullets whizzed from all sides—no one dared peek.
"Move! Everyone mo—"
BOOM!
A mortar round nailed the yelling officer. His bisected corpse flew dozens of meters skyward. Panic spread.
"We're all gonna die!"
A conscript bolted rearward.
"Down! Get down, idiot!"
Crack! A bullet punched through the runner's back. He crumpled out of sight behind scrap.
"Just stay down here! It's safe!"
A veteran yelled from behind a toppled bus. His last words.
KABOOM!
The bus vaporized in a massive blast.
"Tanks!"
Tanks rolled in now, kicking off fratricide proper.
It fell on deaf ears.
A calm voice boiled over in rage.
While commanders bickered pathetically, their troops fought on blindly, not even knowing why. Then the skirmish halted in a way no one expected.
"What... what the hell is that?"
From the horizon came black flying craft—too many to count.
The Drone Legion, who'd lain in wait, descended on the fratricidal battlefield.