Chapter 131
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 131
Chapter Title: Angel Island (1)
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The Corona Triumph dropped anchor at a U.S. military base northeast of the Golden Gate Bridge. It was just a short distance to the open sea, so the waves crashing against the pier were rough. There was a small bay called Horseshoe right in front of the base, but it wasn't wide enough for a cargo ship like this. The entrance had been narrowed by breakwaters.
The escort ship Ramon Alcaraz also tied up at the same pier. Philippine Navy officers and sailors stepped onto solid ground with weary faces. They gathered in small groups and lit a cigarette, passing it around to share drags. It was a pitiful sight. The wind was cold, and they didn't have enough clothes, so those waiting their turn hugged their own shoulders. Some stamped their feet to keep warm. The homeland they had lost was a warm country.
Winter pressed his feet firmly against the ground, testing it. He paced a few steps forward and back aimlessly. It was a process to acclimate his body to the land. He could have just stood still and it would have passed quickly, but it was a habit to always keep his combat readiness at its peak.
An FBI agent watching him smiled.
"Still feels weird, huh? Like the ground is swaying."
"Yeah. And it's only been two days."
The Corona Triumph was massive, but it had skirted the edge of the typhoon. His body was still sensing the waves. It felt similar to getting off a treadmill.
Joanna, who had been scanning the surroundings, tilted her head.
"Looks like the welcoming party's not here yet. We sent word ahead... Mind waiting a bit?"
With their permission, she left Winter behind and headed toward the guard post. The sentries' uniforms were quite different from standard U.S. military attire. Solid blue uniforms. Coast Guard. Two of them were sneaking glances at Winter. He could sense their curiosity. It had been the same during the Christmas Battle. A tank platoon stranded after running out of fuel. The platoon leader, Lieutenant Edmund Durant, had been amazed to see Winter. Wondering if he was even a real person.
A conversation unfolded between them and Joanna that Winter couldn't hear. It didn't last long. One sentry nodded and spoke into his radio. The other kept stealing glances even then. Winter saluted them. Oh. The man's lips formed the word. He snapped to attention. Joanna turned around. Her expression was puzzled at first, then softened.
She returned and said,
"They'll be here soon. Just a little longer."
Winter asked,
"This isn't the destination, right?"
It was still before full dusk. They had been told they wouldn't meet the already-deployed operation team until after midnight.
Joanna pointed out to sea in response.
"No, it's not. This is just a stopover. First, we'll head to that island. Angel Island. But that's only the second stopover. Finally, we'll board a submarine for the last leg."
"A submarine?"
"The operation headquarters is a converted freighter. They're masquerading as a private military company that's devolved into a criminal organization. The first mission is intelligence gathering among the maritime refugees."
Private military company... Winter nodded in understanding. It was the only way to explain the special forces' combat power and organization. They had been a group paid to kill people from the start. In a world approaching the apocalypse, turning into a criminal syndicate wasn't strange at all.
Joanna continued,
"It's a masquerade, but they're doing everything a criminal organization would. They control their own territory, patrol it, collect protection money, pick fights, clash with other groups, and sometimes even do their nominal job as mercenaries. That's how they build ties with refugees from nuclear-armed nations... No, let's drop the pointless phrasing. In practical terms, they're forging connections with Chinese groups."
Russia still maintained control over its navy. China was different.
It all sounded good, but one thing bothered him.
"They collect protection money? From those people?"
"That's your first concern?"
Joanna looked pleased.
"Don't worry. They give back more than they take. Balancing it so it doesn't stand out too much was tricky. But it was necessary for the mental health of the agents deployed on the operation. The refugees think of it as a route where U.S. transport planes frequently drop supplies. They're actually praised for maintaining order without being overly greedy."
It meant airdrops of supplies happened frequently. They figured it was more abundant than other places.
Mental health, huh. Winter asked again,
"Do the agents collect the protection money themselves?"
"At first, yes. Now they've recruited organization members, so the frequency has dropped. But it hasn't stopped. They can't fully trust refugee recruits. To prevent unnecessary violence and double exploitation, they need on-site supervision. It's a job no one likes, so they rotate it."
"Recruiting members too... They're really going all in."
"It can't leak. It has to be thorough. That's why you're even more suitable. Your experience in refugee zones will be useful. Especially your interactions with the Triads were highly rated. The CIA didn't request you for nothing."
"Wow. How much do you know?"
Joanna hesitated at the question. An honest reaction. She was experienced enough to hide things well. It must be proof of her goodwill. Enough that she had to hesitate.
What kind of night had it been for Joanna yesterday? How much had his built-up reputation influenced it?
Unless she'd investigated through other means, her displayed trust had an element that was hard to buy. So he had anticipated it.
Winter reassured her.
"It's fine. I see it as necessary. If it helped you trust me more."
"You mean that?"
"I believe results don't always justify means. But people have limits. Refugee zones were that kind of environment. Everyone turns vicious to survive. It must look repulsive from the outside. What options did I have to gain trust? Superior combat skills? Reckless self-sacrifice? No. Those aren't proof of goodness."
"The outcome would have been the same eventually. Just taken a bit longer."
"That's why that little time was precious. It was a good opportunity."
Surveillance being an opportunity made the FBI agent shake her head.
"It was from late December to January. I hear it came from pretty high up. They needed to judge if a now-famous figure who caused a stir was reliable. As you know, the U.S. situation right now..."
"No need to make excuses. Thanks for being honest, Ann. It wasn't something you should have told me. I'll keep it secret. Pinky swear?"
Winter extended his pinky for a promise. Playfulness conjured as needed.
"Heh, really."
Joanna gave a wry smile. Winter steered the conversation back.
"It's good not to harass suffering people, but the side effects must be considerable. Lots of killing involved."
Areas with abundant supplies would attract greedy organizations. Wouldn't they get attacked often? That was the question. The FBI agent affirmed his concern.
"I hear it was like that at first. Frequent raids gave them headaches."
"And?"
"They demonstrated overwhelming power. To the point where most wouldn't dare touch them. Two DEVGRU teams withdrew in the process."
DEVGRU. U.S. Navy Special Warfare Development Group. In this world, Sergeant Ashford had mentioned them. Don't become a knife that's too useful like them. You'd get used up and broken.
If even they withdrew, he might need to reassess the mission's expected difficulty.
"Withdrew? Surprising. Casualties?"
"No. They're America's top special forces. It's hard to wear them down against untrained gangs who conserve ammo over lives. It was stress. Even if they're the scum of humanity, they killed too many. And the operation dragged on."
"Hm. Wouldn't it have been easier to just expand supply drops to the surroundings?"
Winter countered. No hunger, less incentive to raid. Of course, it wouldn't eliminate it. Humans had limits in many ways, but not when it came to greed.
Joanna disagreed.
"It was a tough practical choice. First, transport capacity is limited. How many more sorties to satisfy the surrounding areas? More sorties for this op mean shortages elsewhere. Alternatives like Wooden Wonders and extra pilots have eased things, but priority one is prepping clear liberation ops."
"Makes sense."
"Second. It might reduce direct engagements, but fights don't vanish. People here live staring at the sky in their spare time. Uneven supply increases would spark bigger conflicts. Purely in terms of lives, we'd come out worse."
"Ah."
"Finally, supplies are trade currency. Hard to deal with people who lack for nothing. Favorable negotiations happen when the other side is desperate. Remember the mission nature, Winter. Cold truth... but they need to be hungry."
Each point was valid, so Winter just nodded. At least, since they engaged in trade, the group's supply situation had clearly improved from before. Hard to criticize as inhumane despite the coldness.
"One more thing. Any issue with me operating?"
My face is too well-known.
Joanna brushed it off.
"Just disguise yourself."
"That enough?"
"Don't underestimate the CIA. They screw up a lot, but they were once the world's top intel agency. You'll be unrecognizable even to family."
The "once" carried a stain. In a crumbling world without comparisons, or literally just "once"? FBI and CIA weren't on great terms. Different domains, but broadly rivals checking each other.
She was dispatched as supervisor from the start.
Domestic ops from intel agencies fall under investigative oversight. Few welcome surveillance. Not everyone could be like Winter.
The conversation paused. Due to exhaust noise approaching from the north.
'Hm? Something's off.'
Not the usual Humvee rumble. The vehicle charging with headlights on was red. Vivid even under the dimming sky.
"...Ferrari?"
A bewildered voice beside him. Civilian vehicles rolling around a military base was unusual enough. Especially a blatantly luxurious brand.
That the welcome ride?
Unbelievable, but yes. The driver of the four-seat coupe stuck his head out the window. Chatted with the sentries, then looked their way. Rumble. Smooth engine. The Ferrari 612 Scaglietti approached low-speed and stopped before Winter and the FBI agent. Driver and passenger disembarked, saluting crisply.
"Sorry for the delay. Mix-up at control. Special Supervisor Agent Joanna Gibson of the FBI, and... wow, Lieutenant Han Gyeowol. Honor to meet you. Been looking forward to it since I heard you were coming."
"Ah, yeah..."
"I'm Second Lieutenant Aaron Barker. Call me Barker, Lieutenant. This is Sergeant Lazzaro."
After greetings, he opened the rear door like a doorman. Get in. Winter boarded, puzzled but compliant. Joanna followed, commenting,
"Expected a Humvee, not a Ferrari. Threw me off."
"Oh, this guy?"
Beaming. Barker, settling into the driver's seat, started the car as he replied.
"We operate a lot of requisitioned civilian vehicles here. Reasons abound, but main one is reducing maintenance on military vehicles. Also fuel savings. Humvees are gas guzzlers, as you know. Civvie cars get better mileage."
Joanna muttered. Talking mileage in a V12 coupe. Barker laughed heartily, having overheard.
"So what? Good is good. Found this on recon—ecstatic. Ferrari in my life. The one stroke of luck in the approaching apocalypse."
Like Jeffrey? Winter felt an odd familiarity despite just meeting.
The car passed the Coast Guard office into the main base. Not far.
"Welcome to Fort Baker. Site of Starfleet Command in the 22nd century."
Starfleet Command? No clue. Nothing from memory or hologram. Beyond intellect correction.
Barker glanced expectantly, but the FBI agent and boy officer stared blankly. His face fell. Sergeant Lazzaro in the passenger seat chided him.
"Sheesh. How many know Star Trek these days? Embarrassing."
Barker looked even more downcast. Definitely a Jeffrey type.
============================ Author's Note ============================
#Questions I Can't Answer
For comments with @, especially those ending in question marks, I try to answer when possible. But sometimes, questions come up that I can't respond to. Ones core to future plot, ambiguous to answer, or whatever...
Don't feel bad if the author dodges. Haha.
#Q&A
Q. Plum Concentrate2: Joanna Gibson hi hi @...By the way, if humanity fully goes extinct, what do those zombies eat to live? Mutual destruction?
A. Not quite. Population control via metabolic suppression reduces consumption relative to numbers, they can eat more than humans, and two related rice cakes have been tossed.
Q. Sasaside: Will a Trump-like figure get elected in this world? Or already has?
A. In this world's U.S., elections are upcoming. Trust the author's innocence now.
Q. Thousand Changes Thousand Rains: @Like Ossuary, I'll pop into the author's dream too ya gotta do it eek
A. Thousand Changes Thousand Rains already lives in my dreams. Secret: the universe ends when I wake up.
Q. OneChance: @OMG Trump won. Doomsday incoming. Where to get Dreamland immigration rights?
A. ...Trump's iffy, but better than great old ones. And our country beats Dreamland?...Nah. Key is which old one the Blue House high priest contracted with.
Q. Deflation: @Will Joara go premium or keep serializing on Noblesse? Naver's per-episode pay, so asking ?_?
A. Promised, so I'll keep it.
Wish pirates would vanish. Someone grabbed up to latest yesterday.
Q. Peach Blossom Garden: @We top innocence. Pure. So not just demons, author's innocence shortage turns them demonic gyaak guaak
A. Chicken or egg? Seems demonic before Ossuary serialized. @[email protected]
Q. ToothbrushWithRice: @Do you jot down sudden lines, scenes, ideas? I do, but hard to write... (Mabinogi/Optchi fatigue secret!)
A. Of course. Record on phone if it hits at night. Sorry writing doesn't stick. Happens when tired too. Sleep disorder keeps me exhausted. Haha. Hang in there.