Deployment (12)
"This is K-1. This is K-1. K-2, come in, over."
"Tch. No dice."
"They might've already been disarmed and had their radios confiscated."
After wrestling with the radio for a good while, Cheol-woo and the commander let out heavy sighs.
They'd tried communicating on the frequency band agreed upon between the Australian expeditionary forces, using a hopping code line. But there was only silence from the other end.
The provisional conclusion: K-2 Company had likely been subdued by the Americans.
Does that mean the deputy commander fired for nothing? Just as guilt started to prick at Cheol-woo—
"Whoa, wait— we got a connection?"
"[Crackle... K-2. This is K-2.]"
"Nice work. Just give us a quick sitrep."
The frantic voice cut off with a sharp burst of static.
Nailed it. The corner of Cheol-woo's mouth twitched upward.
Dodging suspicion and avoiding arrest was one thing, but worming into the pursuit team? That had to be pure deputy commander acting chops.
How much did he hate my guts on cue? Should've been an actor, not a soldier. Lucky break for him.
"Whew. So, Colonel Douglas was the enemy spy, got threatened by David Min here, confessed, and was taken out mid-way. We have to assume the entire LA Base command structure's compromised."
"Spot on. They could suspect me over a simple misunderstanding, but faking evidence? That's the enemy pulling strings to take me out."
"Why are they so dead set on killing you, David Min? Any ideas?"
"..."
Cheol-woo silently pulled out the black card.
The commander peered closely, baffled. No matter how he turned it, its nature eluded him. As he reached to touch it—
Cheol-woo snatched it back with a flick.
"Nuclear launch codes."
"What!?"
"Last active codes left in North America, apparently. Looks like they found out I have them."
"How the hell did you—"
"Don't ask how I got 'em. Beats me too."
"..."
Met a mercenary on the road; turns out he was hauling nuke sub codes. After we parted, he'd slipped 'em to me on the sly.
Was there a dumber story? Might as well say he picked it up off the street.
Explaining or not, the absurdity stayed the same.
"Holy shit... what the...?"
"I get it's insane. Now hustle back to base, link up with 2nd Company."
"Can't do that. I need to stick with David Min."
"Traveling with me means catching fire from both LA Base and the rebels."
"I know, but no choice. He already chased off the enemy and pulled us out. Going back to LA Base now? They'll never buy we weren't turned. Unless you think we're dead weight—then we'll head back, turn ourselves in nice and quiet. Otherwise, we'll follow. Your orders, sir."
"..."
Cheol-woo groaned, pondering.
They were baggage, sure. But bringing the company wasn't all downside.
Two people maxed out the bike's cargo with ammo bags—barely enough. With a company? Sustain fire way longer.
LA Base was off-limits now. Only play: smash the enemy HQ outright. Tough solo. But with the unit drawing aggro on a solo infil? Golden.
Bringing them was a win.
"Copy that. We're together. Regroup first. Wheels up soon. Dawn's breaking—enemy recon sats spot us, arty rains down. Move fast."
"Yes, sir."
Casualties: about twenty.
Dead preserved in body bags. Immobile wounded? Left water, rations, and instructions to surrender to pursuing LA Base troops.
Ammo shortage? Solved. Battalion bailed—plenty to scavenge.
Company reformed quick.
Got the gist. 2nd Company pretends to side with LA Base rebels, chases us. We run. But... how long? Where to?
The commander's face paled as it hit him.
"David Min. You fled LA Base to avoid clashing with the rebels, right?"
"Yeah. Command seems compromised, not the rank-and-file. Didn't wanna kill 'em if possible. Too many—bad matchup."
"So how do you plan to smash the enemy? No resupply, rebels on our tail, feds ahead. Taking down regiment-scale feds like this? Possible?"
Doubt crept into the commander's eyes.
David Min: fast, strong, bold? Check. But civilian roots. War ain't solo.
No logistics, double-flanked, vs. ten times our numbers? Miracle needed.
Even David Min runs dry on ammo, chased sleepless, starved—no fight left.
"Impossible. Ammo first. They got recon sats—can't drag it out. Plan: straight to enemy HQ, nab John Friedman, end it."
"You know where it is?"
"Got a way to find out."
NewTontonMan rolled up on the bike, yanking the tarp off the cargo.
A large cylindrical device emerged.
The commander clocked it. "Ah—"
"RWR, right?"
"Yes. Exactly."
RWR. Radar Warning Receiver—detects enemy radar signals, pinpoints direction and location.
Ground-based ones for counter-battery radars, rarely used. Forgot they even packed it.
"How you using it?"
"Yesterday, first clash with their recon battalion—took guided missile fire. Not rockets: true guided munitions. Hid in their blind spot from launch direction, but lock held. Not line-of-sight. Radar-guided. Separate radar for targeting us."
"Never heard of radar homing on people."
"They got new toys like us. That prime asset? Bet it's at HQ. RWR sniffs the radar, we get HQ."
"Solid logic. Worth a shot."
Commander signaled; staff rushed the RWR off the bike, hauled it summit-ward for setup.
A glimmer of hope in this hopeless game.
But if it misses the radar? Or it's not at HQ? Unease stirred.
"Exit strategy? If this flops...?"
"Fall back to LA Base, hit the Americans, let Aussies seize it. Better grabbing understrength LA rebels than 3K feds. 2nd Company's inside—easy pickings."
"Ah, yeah... right."
Stupid question, commander chided himself.
Would this guy have bolted if he couldn't trash LA Base? One call: arty barrage, then NewTontonMan slaughterfest.
"Too burdensome" meant "don't wanna waste innocents," not "can't."
But if pushed? Kills hundreds or thousands, guilty or not, no hesitation.
A chill ran down his spine.
"Need bait to ping their radar. I'll draw missile fire."
"Hold up. RWR's got a hit."
As Cheol-woo stepped forward—alarms blared.
"Pulsed radar signal, estimated. Signal faint—took time to filter noise."
"Good work. Bearing and range?"
"78 degrees. 24 klicks out."
"Damn. Out of arty range."
"But weird. Waveform matches search mode, but no frequency hopping. No modern military radar skips that. Pre-Cold War—WWII junk at best."
"...?"
Commander frowned at the baffling report.
Made zero sense. Time travel? Nah. Misread signal more likely.
"Radar that ain't radar. What if... it's not a radar?"
"What're you saying, David Min?"
"Say an ability user emitting EM waves, reading the bounce-back. Body as radar."
"Such a—"
Person? Commander bit back the retort.
Two monsters already here. One more? Why not.
Nothing shocked him now.
...Probably.