Chapter 217
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 217
Chapter Title: End of April (4)
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The radio crackled to life at dawn. It was the resupply they'd been waiting for. They'd chosen the cover of darkness to avoid detection by the mutant hordes.
A relatively small aircraft crisscrossed over the village several times from various directions. It looked like a lead plane equipped with night observation gear. Then, a string of transport planes appeared at wide intervals. They were flying low, ignoring the safe altitude for EMP avoidance. Under the faint moonlight of the overcast dawn, the black-painted transports slowed against the headwind and began dropping cargo loads attached to parachutes.
Some descended even lower. The ranch's expansive clearing, overgrown with rough brush though it was, made for a suitable rough-field landing strip. The sea breeze coming over the mountains aided a stable approach.
'Biplanes?'
Every transport Winter saw was a biplane. The fuselage resembled a Wooden Wonder, but much larger, with an unusual tandem-wing configuration where the two sets of wings connected at the tips.
It was his first time seeing one in this world, but it wasn't unfamiliar. More wings meant more lift. That translated to drastically shorter takeoff and landing distances. Plus, even if the engine failed in flight, there was ample time to react. The unpowered glide range was extended. It was humanity's wisdom in the face of the apocalypse.
Based on his accumulated experience, the control surfaces were likely purely hydraulic. Heavier than fly-by-wire systems, but immune to electromagnetic pulses that could cripple electronic controls. Perfect for a world haunted by living EMP bombs.
Baker Platoon and Escamilla Platoon formed a perimeter along the fence line.
From the ramp door of the first plane to land, an unexpected armed unit leaped out. They scanned the surroundings, spotted Winter's group, and pivoted toward them. The Baker Company officers saluted the top brass.
"Lieutenant Han Gyeowol."
Lately, everyone pronounced the boy officer's name clearly. The fame had that effect.
"You must be Captain Langford."
The sharp-featured Army colonel scanned the Baker Company officers with a blank expression.
"Pleased to meet you all. I'm Colonel Rogers. I trust you can guess why I'm here."
In the end, the Department of Defense's decision hadn't strayed from Winter's expectations. They planned to assemble forces here and deploy them into operations. Just on a larger scale than anticipated. Everyone who'd come with Colonel Rogers was an officer—likely the staff needed to form a new unit.
"Captain. You've done fine work. As of now, your company falls under my command. Any objections?"
The colonel's dry voice was flat, unchanging in pitch. The type that put everyone on edge.
"None, sir!"
"Good. Finish receiving the supplies, then give me a status report. You're in charge until then."
Even after assuming command, the colonel didn't know the local details yet. Best to stick with the established system until things settled. One might expect relief at offloading the burden of decision-making, but Captain Langford oversaw the work with a tense, uneasy expression.
Landings and takeoffs repeated, piling up crates of all sorts. Various firearms and ammo, combat rations, and more. Even though they'd radioed Luke that food was plentiful via the greenhouse, they must have been uneasy about relying on hunting. This was resupply with a vengeance.
Only two, but light armored vehicles (FAVs) rolled out too. One armed with a medium machine gun, the other a rapid-fire grenade launcher.
Don't expect much armor. No doors even on the driver's seat—just a frame with an engine, wheels, and weapon mounted. Light enough to be more useful than a Humvee with fuel supplies so precarious.
By the time a hint of blue tinged the sky, the colonel called for Winter.
"Lieutenant."
"Sir."
"Congratulations on your promotion to major."
"……?"
"McGuire. Wrap it up quick, whatever it is."
One of the staff stepped forward at the colonel's irritated gesture. Winter knew him. He gave the colonel a brief nod, then led Winter a short distance away.
"Captain?"
"Major now. Long time no see."
Nils McGuire from the Department of Defense Public Affairs Office. They'd first met over the Santa Maria promo video.
"Never thought I'd see you here like this. Quite the coincidence."
"Coincidence? Eh. There aren't that many Public Affairs folks assigned to Blockade Command. Half are stuck with the Quarantine War Tactical Support Group anyway. Not many come all the way to the hot zone."
The Quarantine War Tactical Support Group was the one that had tried recruiting Winter. Ostensibly an elite unit of war heroes, but really just a propaganda film crew for morale boosting.
"How'd you know I'm a major?"
"Standard promotion to captain, positional to major."
McGuire replied casually, as if it were no big deal.
Meaning the major rank was temporary, just to sort out the chain of command. Not like a regular two-grade jump. You'd get major's perks but captain's pay, and revert to normal rank once things stabilized.
Still, captain alone was a huge leap. As his old boss Bliss had said, Winter ignored every rule and unwritten convention on time-in-grade. Not even a year since commissioning, no matter what anyone said.
"Is that even possible? Minimum service time, all sorts of requirements…"
"No issues per regs. Congress approved your second Medal of Honor. Normally it'd be the first of the month after award date, but it's a done deal, so we flexed for wartime."
Winter tilted his head slightly. The double Medal of Honor buzz had finally been settled. Only a handful in U.S. history had multiples. And as Bliss had griped, Winter was the first since World War I armistice.
"The key is the citation."
McGuire drew his attention.
"Heard you were protecting an embedded press team."
"Yes. Rescued them a few days ago."
"Any chance you tipped them off about Fair Strike?"
He meant had Winter leaked anything about operations on the Pequod or Orca Black to the reporters. It seemed too obvious, but the PA officer was dead serious, so Winter shook his head.
"No. Haven't told anyone else in the company either."
The major sighed in relief. Winter asked,
"What's the citation for, sir?"
"Saving Hawthorne civilians and other troops from a nuclear terror attack."
"What…"
"Thanks to you seizing the Beidou satellite, the nuke didn't hit the city dead-on."
It was completely out of left field. Joanna had explained that Sergeant Major Yang Yongbin had picked targets that could afford a miss from the start. By the time U.S. forces in California were this battered, his nuke strike had already fully achieved its goal. The major was twisting the facts.
"That's the line."
As expected.
"Time you got used to it, eh? Straight from the White House script. They need something to dilute the public's despair. Can't let the nation fracture now…"
The PA officer shifted tone with a sigh.
"It's not a total lie anyway. You did take the satellite and degrade the missile's accuracy. Might've really vaporized the city otherwise. Troops at the ammo depot might not have evacuated in time. Closer to the truth this way. Heard it was a near thing on the withdrawal."
"Understood. Must be awkward."
"Stiff one. Most folks would be thrilled. Refugee treatment's on the line too, so just roll with it. Once you see the state of things beyond the blockade, you'll get it."
No need to see it firsthand. Racial crimes would be rampant. Even before, Chinese-Americans and Asians mistaken for them had suffered. Barely two months since the Daniel Quan killing. The president's eulogy—"America must not destroy America"—meant nothing now.
But this script was missing one element: the Chadwick team lead. Depending, it could be a huge tool for the president.
'Politics can't stay clean forever. That's life.'
Get numb to the dirt too long, and you confuse ends and means. But in this world, for this president, no worries. Second term already.
"Sir, there's something on this I need to report to the White House."
McGuire caught the oddity of Winter specifying the White House. Normally it'd be Blockade Command or the intel agency that ran the last op. PA officers handled secrets too, even if different turf. He asked for confirmation.
"Let's be clear. Something I shouldn't know?"
"For now, yes."
"For now…?"
The major stroked his chin, then nodded.
"I'll get you satcom clearance. Anything else?"
"Need to hook up a computer for data transfer. Got evidence. Reporter's not me—it's FBI Supervisor Gibson."
The hard drives from Pequod's secret compartment were still intact in the backpack. Joanna had managed them meticulously since arrival, EMP-proofed of course.
McGuire furrowed his brow at the request. He seemed to get the gist.
"Hope it's good news."
The PA major's "good" was never literal.
He went straight to Colonel Rogers. Winter could see the colonel grimace from afar. Made sense. Fresh off arrival, he'd have plenty of command chatter, and now this vague long-haul comms request.
But they had multiples of the backpack-foldable AN/PRC-117 sets. So the colonel was just bristling at something slipping his control.
'Wonder if that'll be an issue going forward…'
That rigid personality had pros and cons.
Soon, a satellite transceiver unfolded on high ground. Inverted-umbrella antenna on a small tripod, broad cross-shaped receiver on top. The comms trooper with a rugged laptop hooked to the terminal spoke to waiting Winter and the FBI agent.
"This is quarantine-frontier upgraded—no worries on signal bleed. Plug the hard drive into this cable. Encryption'll make transfer slow. Whole thing could take all day."
Signal bleed prevention accounted for Tricksters.
"Thanks."
Joanna, summoned over, gave her thanks.
Her counterpart on the line switched several times in minutes. More waiting than talking. Escalating ranks, until finally the president himself. Winter sensed her tension.
"Winter. Take it. His Excellency wants to speak with you."
Joanna handed him the receiver after her heavy talk. She'd covered everything—confirmation needed?