Chapter 113
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: #April Vengeance, Vandenberg Air Force Base (2)
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Once, a therapist asked him. From looking at your records in "Day after Apocalypse," it seems like you want to fight the world. After thinking quietly for a moment, the boy replied.
I've never thought of it that way, but now that you mention it, you're right. I must be dreaming. Here.
Now, Winter recalled the words he hadn't said back then.
"In the end, it's a dream of hating the world..."
He had tried not to hate. Wishing for the happiness of the two people he loved. But reconsidering, just because Winter alone didn't hate wouldn't change the world. It wasn't not hating—it was giving up on hating. Because it was something beyond human limits.
So here, he dreamed. A dream that surpassed limits. Surpassing limits, becoming more than human, he indulged in the illusion of fighting things humans couldn't fight.
The delusion he knew was false didn't stay enjoyable for long. Now, he lived for just one reason. Clutching a thorn he couldn't let go of, protecting what remained of his heart.
"What are you thinking about?"
Winter snapped out of it. The first thing he saw was his own combat boots. Lifting his head, he found Agent Gibson looking at him curiously. Winter was surprised by how deeply he'd been lost in reminiscence. He hadn't been asleep, yet it felt like waking from a dream. This had never happened before.
"No, nothing much. Just remembered someone from the past."
Not sure how she interpreted the answer, Agent Gibson made a regretful face. Winter read her thoughts easily. Even confirming it with "Discernment," he didn't correct her misunderstanding.
Woooong—
He felt a shift in his seat. A vibration like wind transmitted through the backrest. The transport plane shook. It had hit some light turbulence. Winter noticed the agent's nervous reaction. Tension in her neck, fists clenched tight. Striking for a seasoned investigator.
Winter and Joanna Gibson were aboard a transport headed to Vandenberg Base. The cargo hold's lights were dim. Not just for the two of them, it was loaded with enough cargo to feel claustrophobic.
Winter asked naturally.
"Can I ask now why the Intelligence Agency needs me?"
"Ah."
Her reaction was almost a groan. She seemed to realize it herself and grew flustered. Ahem, ahem. After a few coughs to clear her throat, she spoke.
"Come to think of it, I haven't briefed you on the mission yet. The objective of this operation is to gather intel inside San Francisco Bay and eliminate any national security threats there."
"San Francisco Bay... so it's an op among the maritime refugees?"
"Exactly. That's why the Intelligence Agency requested Lieutenant Han. Their desired qualifications for the combatant are precise: First, exceptional combat ability. Second, sound judgment for contingencies. Third, native-level spoken Chinese. Fourth, East Asian descent. Hardly anyone in the entire U.S. meets all those. Actually, you're essentially the only one, Lieutenant."
Just hearing the qualifications hinted at the op's nature. But Winter still had questions.
"I'm the only one? That doesn't quite make sense."
The agent shook her head.
"No joke. People with special forces-level combat skills and foreign language fluency are rare. Let alone native-level Chinese speakers? Even among CIA agents, there aren't many. Not since the China branch basically vanished."
She muttered about the famous anecdote of only three Arabic dialect experts in the entire Intelligence Agency once. Her voice lowered due to the shaking transport again.
"Then let me ask something else. What exactly is this national security threat?"
No matter Winter's qualifications, he had virtually no special ops experience. His military training was just basic frontline stuff. And life-or-death mattered to the White House. Deciding to deploy him anyway meant the threat was gravely serious. After a brief hesitation, the agent said.
"Nukes."
"..."
Winter recalled the warships from various nations he'd seen in journals. Soldiers who left their fallen homeland but got stranded in New World ports. Even then, fighting a nationless war to protect their compatriots.
"Of course, that's not all."
Environment tests character. Corruption was possible for anyone. Just as the outside world's conditions were harsh for all. And just as that world's spectators craved empathy-free pleasure.
The agent elaborated.
"According to Intelligence Agency and Navy intel, five nuclear subs are lurking inside San Francisco Bay right now. We have locations on four. We could sink them anytime. The problem is the last one."
Winter raised another question.
"I'm no expert, but aren't they ultimately surviving on U.S. aid? Even if they have nukes, they wouldn't use them recklessly. Unless they want to starve."
Nuclear subs can operate without resupply for long periods. But only if prepared in advance. The Morgellons pandemic was unforeseen. China was ground zero. If the sub in question belonged to the Chinese Navy, proper prep was impossible. That was Winter's reasoning. The agent nodded.
"You're right. But national security can't ignore even a 1% threat. Just like how everyone dismissed our Bureau's warning of the worst terror attack."
She spoke as if the boy officer would naturally know. Pride tinged her words. But it was a different era's event. Only seeing the augmented reality with intelligence correction did Winter grasp it. The Twin Towers' collapse. The event that plunged America into the War on Terror. He'd seen it in textbooks. By the boy's birth era, it was already history.
"True, it's an op that can't fail, right on the horizon."
America had bet its fate on "Operation Manifest Liberation." The agent nodded at Winter's words.
"What heightens concerns are the rumors spreading inside the bay."
"Rumors?"
"Yes. You probably know the domestic ones already. The pandemic was actually China's bioweapon... The maritime refugees have taken it further. They say Morgellons is America's bioweapon. Used to topple China but failed to control it."
"Hmm... sounds pretty serious."
"It is. Baseless rumor, yet the maritime refugees from China seem to buy it wholesale. The Agency worries the sub crews have fallen to that fanaticism."
After a moment's thought, Winter asked.
"Surely the Agency doesn't expect me to find that nuclear sub's location? How?"
"As you said, everyone inside the bay survives on U.S. supplies. Sub crews too. Intel shows Chinese subs surface periodically to receive goods from Chinese-registered ships. Lieutenant Han, you just need to pinpoint those spots."
Maritime refugees lived off U.S. supplies and deep-sea fishing fleets' food. Soldiers would divvy it up. Over time, fixed procedures and locations would exist.
If locations stayed the same, no need for this request. They'd change spots by prior agreement. Even so, how to find them? Drones could've handled it if so; he wouldn't be here. Winter tilted his head.
"You said pinpoint locations... Do I have to infiltrate myself?"
"Mostly signals intel, but yes. Infiltration might be needed. We're worried since you're so well-known, Lieutenant... but Agency agents will help with your disguise. That's their expertise."
Winter imagined the bay's situation. Fallen nation's soldiers and civilians sharing limited supplies. Power from the barrel of a gun, so soldiers dominating was natural. Civilians lucky to keep minimal shares.
'Hungry people devour their own conscience first.'
Yet subs surfacing periodically meant one thing. Winter's question.
"Did you deliberately reduce supply volumes?"
"Yes. Nuclear subs can last months without surfacing if supplied enough. Higher-ups made a rational call."
Agent Gibson endorsed the White House and DoD's cold strategy. Starve the refugees to cut food flowing to the fallen military. Shorten resupply intervals too, forcing subs up when stocks ran low.
"Hunger sharpens people. Generous food might've eased worries?"
Extreme environments breed extremes. Winter recalled pre-studied history from this world's lore. If interwar Germany had been prosperous and stable, could Hitler have risen?
In this world, ammo and food were key resources. America's food production overwhelming. The world's strongest superpower was also its top ag nation.
But Winter's view was promptly refuted.
"Easy to cut supplies, hard to increase. As you know, domestic airlift capacity is maxed, and seas crawl with pirates. Can't send cargo ships without escorts."
" Pirates... I see."
"Can't use Panama now, so ships to West Coast must round Magellan Strait or Cape Horn. Over 25,000 kilometers. Too many pirates en route. Lost nation's fleets."
She described pirate squadrons of subs and destroyers firing guns and anti-ship missiles. Limits bind not just individuals, but nations.
"Navy's strained maintaining East Coast blockade. No spare forces for convoy escorts. Insufficient supplies breed steady resentment, beyond mere shortages."
Magellan Strait and Cape Horn were South America's southern tip. Winter traced the route: North America's East Coast, around South America's end, to West Coast. And the forces needed to secure it.
Winter partially conceded. He didn't fully agree with Joanna Gibson, but she was just one person. Arguing changed nothing.
"We've arrived. Vandenberg Base."
A word to refocus. Relief in her voice.
Through the small window, Winter glimpsed the approaching ground. Runway lit with minimal guides. Coastal air base. Not far from Fort Roberts, so short talk bridged the gap.
Per plan, wait here for the cargo ship.