Chapter 114
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 114
Chapter Title: April Vengeance, Corona Triumph (3)
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There was no time to tour the airbase.
The freighter's scheduled arrival was fast approaching, and with the troop barracks and refugee zones to the south and east of the runway, and the coastline to the west, it wasn't a simple stroll.
Winter's gaze fumbled through the terrain-corrected augmented reality.
'They said the people housed here are Russian and Chinese refugees? I wanted to get a look at the situation...'
Vandenberg Base was known to accommodate around 100,000 people.
While waiting for the freighter to arrive, Winter and Agent Gibson stood by in the control facility beside the runway.
Perhaps because it wasn't a civilian airport, the control tower had a broad, sprawling layout.
Traces of NASA were visible here and there.
It wasn't your typical Air Force base.
There were already people in the waiting room.
"Lieutenant Han Gyeowol?"
Winter saluted him.
More people getting my name right, he thought.
The man was the base commander, Brigadier General Hayden Strickland.
His gaunt features resembled withered tree branches.
"Sit."
The FBI agent and the boy officer expressed their gratitude to the general as he offered them seats.
Hot tea had been prepared.
The general himself drank his tea laced with brandy.
And not a single word until the cups were drained.
An awkwardness thick enough to unsettle even Winter hung in the air.
The general's silence, his emotionless face, and his steady gaze only amplified it.
The brigadier general's blank expression was an equation that defied solving.
The cups emptied at the pace of the discomfort.
The brigadier general cleared his throat, then slid a single sheet of paper and a pen across.
"Sign."
"...Pardon?"
"Please sign."
Winter tilted his head and peered at it, wondering if it was some form.
Blank paper.
He flipped it over.
Blank again.
Ah, could it be?
Feeling a touch of confusion, Winter signed in large letters.
The brigadier general made an additional request.
"Below that, if you could write 'To my beautiful Brandy Strickland...' I'd be grateful."
"Who's that?"
"My daughter."
Ah, once more, and Winter wrote as instructed.
The brigadier general carefully tucked away the result, rolling it neatly to avoid creases and slipping it into his pocket.
The gesture didn't suit his statue-like face.
He gazed at Winter quietly again, then patted his shoulder encouragingly.
"Good work."
Another salute.
That was it.
He turned and left.
His scant staff trailed behind.
The Air Force lieutenant who'd been guiding them stayed, offering a smile.
"Don't take it to heart, you two. The commander's always been a man of few words."
"I can guess where the commander hails from."
Agent Gibson shook his head with a wry chuckle.
With someone there anyway, no sense wasting the chance.
Winter asked about the base's current status.
The pleasant lieutenant answered briskly.
He tossed a few questions back himself—personal curiosity about Winter.
Of course, they didn't have unlimited time for it.
"Ah, incoming contact."
The lieutenant announced the freighter's arrival with a regretful look.
A new storm was brewing far out at sea, making the waves too high for boats.
Helicopter it was for transport.
By the time Winter and Joanna Gibson stepped out, the pilot had already released the wheel brakes and was preheating the engines.
The rotor noise roared through the wind gusts.
Same model as the one to Santa Maria.
The compact fuselage gave it an almost cute vibe.
Even the pilot's welcoming smile couldn't brighten the FBI agent's pallor.
Well, she'd found a medium transport unsettling enough—imagine a small helo.
At least they weren't dangling outside this time.
On the flight to Santa Maria before, the otherworldly audience had screamed nonstop.
'One of them...'
Winter let out a sudden sigh.
He wondered if it had been the right call, telling her there was no need to come back.
The moment they lifted off the ground, the helo shook unsteadily.
Agent Gibson flinched.
What to do?
Winter hesitated between her pride and her fear.
She'd seemed humiliated even on the transport plane.
A gust hit right then.
Winter grabbed her arm.
"You look unwell."
"...I'm ashamed."
To shake off the embarrassment, the agent shared her backstory.
"I was in a crash once. Though calling it an 'accident' is a bit off. It was an attack during a drug bust."
Drug enforcement, and an attack.
Winter asked,
"Mexican cartel?"
"Yes. I was the field supervisor back then too. We were on a recon flight near their base when we took heavy machine-gun fire. The controls went haywire, my mind went blank. Somehow escaped... but as you can see, the aftereffects linger."
A question arose.
If so, wouldn't it make sense to send someone else?
Winter weighed three possibilities.
First, her skills outweighed the issue.
Second, no one else wanted to head west of the blockade.
Third, the higher-ups simply didn't care.
'Can't rule out the last one.'
US intelligence agencies bungled more than you'd expect.
Winter knew it from experience.
Even if this world was reconstructed from past data, being fact-based meant it wouldn't stray far from reality.
He just hoped for no fatal screw-ups on this op.
It went without saying not to pry into the agent's personal matters.
He shifted the conversation naturally.
"I heard some cartels are holding out in cities. Is that true?"
It had been on the news.
Drug cartels occupying parts of cities, fending off variant attacks.
Tijuana Cartel, Gulf Cartel, Los Zetas, and so on.
The US was supplying them with food and ammo while warning them not to cross the border.
Such reports weren't frequent, so Winter's knowledge was outdated.
With an intelligence agent right there, better to gather what info he could.
"Lieutenant, how much do you know about them?"
"As much as anyone who's interested."
"Vague question on my part."
The agent managed a stiff smile and eased her own tension with the tale.
"They've been close to warlords for ages. In funding, armament, organization. They recruit heavily from ex-military—even some of our US special forces. More than a few patriots bought off."
The agent sighed.
They'd raided a regional outpost, only for anti-tank rockets and SAMs to appear.
She'd survived a horrific crash from machine-gun fire—maybe that was lucky.
A missile would've meant instant death.
"Some single organizations boast brigade-level combatants. Plenty of them, all exercising control from their strongholds as usual."
"True warlords. No wonder they're holding out."
"Urban combat's unique too. Those cities are nightmare mazes. They've fought DEA agents, intel officers, Mexican military and police countless times, mastering the terrain, tactics, defenses... I'd say their brutality might be the key to cutting off infection paths."
Meaning they'd kill at the slightest suspicion.
The agent wore a dark expression, the face of an expert steeped in criminal ecology.
She looked mid-thirties.
Clearly weathered more battlefields than her age suggested.
"Even human scum like them help scatter the variant flows... No choice but to support for now. Plenty of civilians relying on them too."
Her long spiel ended in a sigh.
Hatred for the cartels seeped through.
The short flight's destination loomed.
A massive vessel, surely over 40,000 tons.
On the heaving sea, the freighter was the only still object.
The escorts matched course but, being smaller, bobbed up and down on the waves.
Surprisingly, the escorts flew the Philippine flag.
Not a container ship, so the upper deck was pristine.
The type that hauled ore or grain—bulk carrier.
Landing would be straightforward.
Winter read the name on the bow.
[CORONA TRIUMPH]
Thud.
A light, tapping sensation on landing.
The pilot didn't shut down the engines.
Once Winter and the agent disembarked, he threw a flashy salute—ring and pinky tucked—and lifted the nose.
The captain, some crew, and one officer in unfamiliar uniform came to greet them.
All Asian descent.
"Welcome aboard, you two. To the Corona Triumph. Wind's chilly—let's head inside and talk."
The captain spoke in English with a distinct accent.
The others showed they understood.
From a country with English as official language? India? Philippines?
As they went inside, signs in English and Japanese stood out everywhere.
The escort was Philippine Navy...
It was getting stranger.
But the FBI agent remained unfazed.
Seemed like the right ship.
Another standout: bullet holes pocking the bridge.
Traces of rifle and cannon fire.
Spotting Winter's gaze, the captain gave a glum smile.
"Lately, the sea's been awfully rough. Weather, waves, people—all of it."
Few spots on a ship like this for conversation.
Especially one that'd taken hits.
In the mess hall, patched up with emergency repairs, the captain and officer introduced themselves.
"Belated greetings. I'm Roy Kaisers, master of this vessel. CIA assigned me your transport."
The officer followed.
"Pleased to meet you. Lieutenant Ryan de Leon, liaison officer from Philippine Navy Frigate Ramon Alcaraz."
Winter and the agent gave their names.
The captain and crew did too, but as an officer, Lieutenant de Leon seemed especially pleased to meet Winter.
The captain laid out the voyage.
"We're making 10 knots northbound for San Francisco. Barring trouble, we'll hit the Golden Gate fog around 6 p.m. tomorrow. Rest easy till then. Nothing fancy, but we'll provide every comfort we can. Cabins now, if you like."
Kaisers spoke with emphasis on arrival time.
Made sense—better avoid prying eyes.
Winter turned down the offer.
"Too early to turn in."
The captain made a counter-request.
"Then, could you spare a bit more time? Sailors like us go hungry for news in times like these..."
Winter glanced at the agent, saw no objection, and nodded.
"Who doesn't? Perfect. I've got some questions myself."
If something shouldn't be said, the agent would cut it off.
Winter figured as much.
============================ Author's Notes ============================
#Q&A
Q. Bluecrystal: @Author, you seem to undervalue your novel and skills a bit. 1500 copies will fly off shelves soon. ㅎㅎ Have more confidence! Btw, any plans to publish the Joara version (uncensored)?
A. Per contract, print publication is the publisher's domain. Can't do a private run. Haha.
Q. HonestClown: @ㅎㅎ The "poet" part refers to your explanation of innocence—the bit where you said you wrote it to unsettle us. Broad meaning, but it gave a more concrete sense from vague innocence vibes, which was nice. I don't care if it was intentional political satire or not. I believe fiction should be read as fiction. Syncing time in Italy to read is a pain though. Innocence... great theme ㅎㅎ
A. Got it. My bad for misunderstanding. Apologies. Yeah, innocence is a fantastic theme. It's the driving force that lets even someone like me write novels.