Chapter 218
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 218
Chapter Title: End of April (5)
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“Han Gyeowol here.”
As Winter spoke, the speaker crackled noisily. It wasn’t static or interference—just a long sigh breathed into the receiver from the other end.
After a brief silence, the president’s voice finally emerged.
[It’s been since we met at the White House, hasn’t it? Good to hear from you, Major. Your voice makes it finally feel real. Lately, nothing but bad news…]
He paused before continuing.
[First things first—I have to say this. As president of this country, I express my regrets for what you’ve endured. I’ll need the documents for the full details, but the supervisor’s testimony paints a clear enough picture. In a world like this, we see scum like John Cutler crawling out of the woodwork again.]
Winter tilted his head at the unfamiliar name. He knew more than most people, but not everything.
“Cutler? Who’s that?”
[The devil.]
A short pause, then the rest.
[The bastard who ran human syphilis experiments as head of the Division of Venereal Diseases. Didn’t matter if they were domestic or foreign. Tuskegee’s one of the more infamous ones—ring any bells?]
“Ah… Yes, I know it.”
He remembered. In some ways, it was a racist scandal too. Most of the victims had been Black. Another parallel to this incident.
[“We just used people who were going to die anyway for research. We only wanted to help our country and humanity—why hold us accountable…?” That’s the self-justifying crap from his sympathizers and accomplices. Cutler himself was long dead by then, but if he’d been alive, he’d have spouted the same nonsense. “Didn’t we end up saving more lives?”]
Chadwick had said something similar.
[Foolish logic. Wrapping crimes in patriotism turns the whole nation into accomplices. But as a politician, it’s hard to stay completely above it all.]
“Don’t say that, sir. You’re far better than that.”
The president let out a self-deprecating chuckle. He was the kind of man who spoke in his addresses about wrestling with necessary evils and crossroads of lesser harms—a soul burdened by the limits of a world built by people. Winter understood that feeling. The unyielding weight of stone in his chest. As long as it lingered, the boy within him would remain chained to emotions he longed to cast aside.
[Thanks for saying so. I was worried you’d lost faith in this country.]
It wasn’t concern just for Winter alone. The president would have weighed the social costs.
[I do have one thing to ask.]
“Go ahead.”
This call wasn’t merely to reconfirm the supervisor’s statement.
After a moment’s hesitation, what the president said was utterly unexpected.
[What if we sent people close to you over there? I’d like your take on it.]
“Surely you don’t mean the alliance… no, the Korean refugee support troops at Camp Roberts?”
[They’ve been promoted to a regular independent battalion now, from what I hear. Depending on the situation, we might add Japanese-, Vietnamese-, Filipino-, or Cambodian-Americans too. The Chinese group’s the biggest, but they could backfire.]
“A PR move.”
[Spot on. My Press Secretary pushed hard for it. Refugee soldiers taking the lead in rescue ops would make for a compelling image. It wouldn’t be a bad deal for you either—winning over the public.]
Winter could see it clearly. He asked something else.
“Is Camp Roberts holding up?”
It was just one military base, but this president wouldn’t surprise anyone by rattling off the status of every outpost. Sure enough, the answer came without delay.
[Rest easy. It’s well clear of the main mutant assault hubs, serving as one of the rescue operation bases. From the start—]
The words cut off abruptly.
“Sir?”
[…]
This was a classified call, so the communications specialist had stepped out. Winter glanced back to see Joanna examining the equipment with a puzzled look. But even she wasn’t infallible. Just as she moved to summon the specialist, someone on the other end roused President MacMillan. The line hadn’t dropped.
[Uh, sorry about that. Dozed off for a second.]
“You alright?”
[It’s nothing. Stayed up late last night bingeing a drama. The West Wing.]
A bleak, parched joke. The White House would have gone into emergency mode after General Yang Yongbin’s nuclear strike. More than a few might have already dropped dead from overwork.
[Where was I…? Right. From the start, there weren’t that many scattered forces there anyway. And with heavy support from the Air Force that’s suddenly got nothing better to do, losing one homegrown independent battalion won’t put it at risk. Sound about right?]
The last question wasn’t aimed at Winter.
[That’s what they say. No need to worry about the base itself. Word is you really look after the people close to you.]
But what did he mean by an Air Force with nothing to do? Winter mulled it over and decided it made sense. Target acquisition was the problem—spotting the enemy.
‘Low-level flight’s impossible without being ready to crash.’
In terrain where friendlies and foes were hopelessly intermingled, indiscriminate bombing wasn’t an option. Normally, IFF systems would handle identification, but most vehicles equipped with them had likely been abandoned by now. Portable versions existed, but routed stragglers wouldn’t lug around bulky, heavy gear while fleeing for their lives. Lighter signals simply didn’t reach the skies.
Tricksters trained in precision strikes now emitted radio bursts in short, erratic pulses. Enough to disrupt rescue efforts, but too spaced out to reliably guide homing missiles. The military’s best counter was jamming right back. The air support at dawn must have relied on that.
It explained why no Navy jets had come screaming in from the sea.
An independent battalion made up entirely of Winter Alliance veterans. He’d half-expected it, but it was still a wildly unconventional unit by U.S. standards. After some thought, Winter circled back.
“I don’t see why you’d need my opinion on this, sir.”
[If you say no, we’ll rethink it.]
“…”
[Surprised?]
“Honestly, yes.”
[No need to overcomplicate it. To my staff, you’re part of morale management.]
“Ah.”
[Put bluntly, we don’t want to gut the golden goose. You’re an irreplaceable asset.]
The president shifted his tone.
[No one’s unscathed these days. Even so, you’ve shouldered a crushing load in record time. Everyone agrees on that. A normal person would’ve broken by now. So what drives you to push so hard…? The answer was obvious.]
It wasn’t entirely accurate, but it was a positive misreading. Winter listened quietly.
[Someone put it like this: Lieutenant Han Gyeowol—you were a lieutenant back then. Anyway, Lt. Han fights only to protect his fellow non-Americans, his own people. His soul has no homeland. He’s no patriot. Don’t call him a hero. Quite the take.]
The president’s low chuckle carried no warmth.
[People who demand patriotism without reward are usually the least patriotic of all.]
Then he brought up Kennedy.
[“Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.” Easy to twist into a call for blind sacrifice, but it’s just asking you to flip the order. Major Han, you’ve already given this country more than enough. We may not be able to pay the full tab yet, but the bare minimum consideration is only right.]
“Thank you, sir.”
[Save the thanks. So tell me straight. I need your judgment as a field commander too. Do they have what it takes? Can they mesh with the existing forces?]
“…”
Joanna gave a subtle shake of her head. *Your sacrifices are enough already.* That’s what it meant. They’d grown closer lately, making her gestures easier to read.
“They’ve got the skills. I’m fine either way. If they want to go, send them.”
[I see.]
The president’s words sounded like a sigh.
[I should say this upfront. Motivation matters.]
Motivation? There was more? Winter tilted his head.
[You’ve probably heard the talk about shifting refugee aid from direct management to budget support for their leaders.]
It was one of the Republican presidential candidate’s key pledges, mentioned by President MacMillan. Halt blanket aid to all refugees and funnel funds to high-performing leaders instead. A policy designed to ignite cutthroat competition and survival-of-the-fittest among them. It had fervent backing not just from conservatives, but from some liberals too.
People were frail creatures, and fear left them no choice.
“Yes. I caught it on the broadcast.”
[We might roll it out soon. Public support’s through the roof. Bad news for most refugees, but it’d benefit you. And that’s the real problem. Your popularity turns toxic here. Saves money on budgets while padding your perks—who’d say no to that?]
“They’re keeping you in check.”
[We have to stop that scumbag from winning. It’d be the point of no return.]
Something about “point of no return” sent an inexplicable chill through Winter.
*Before the emotional rifts deepen… before fewer good people are left…*
The thought didn’t have time to fully form. The president interrupted his musing.
[But we’re not stopping there.]
“And your plan…?”
[We won’t limit it to budgets. For refugee leaders or groups with proven results, we’d grant the right to establish a territory—or even a quasi-state. Public sentiment leans toward quasi-state. A full territory might make people feel you’re too distant. A quasi-state could more easily become the 51st.]
In America, military service—especially as a war hero—gave a massive leg up in politics.
Meaning political influence down the line. Securing an autonomous zone to house refugees would be benefit enough. Even something Rhode Island-sized could accommodate multiple nationalities.
But the president’s term had only half a year left. Could he pull it off?
[I don’t see it being that hard. Already cleared it with the Speaker of the House.]
An unexpected answer to Winter’s unspoken question.
“Wasn’t he a Republican?”
He vaguely recalled it from blowing newspapers and passing news reports.
[Party affiliation aside, he feels the country’s done for if that candidate wins. The GOP originally wanted to back someone else… Facing him, I might not be this worried.]
“I see…”
At this point, a scandal involving assassination didn’t seem far-fetched. But Winter quickly dismissed the thought. The dead were easily lionized. With public reaction so unpredictable afterward, it was never an easy play.
[So that’s me saying—don’t break.]
Half of it was just a personal urge to chat. The president’s selfish aside at the end.
[Sorry for locking you in that hotel in D.C. Next award ceremony we meet at, let’s sit together and crack a beer nice and easy. My homemade honey beer’s a treat.]
“Looking forward to it.”
[Made the moment fun, at least briefly. A warm season arriving at the tail end of the cruelest month. That’s all for now.]
“…”
Joanna, who’d been listening quietly, gave a faint smile. Winter got the “cruelest month” referring to April, but what came after? As the question formed in his mind, the intellect boost from his English proficiency displayed a translucent string in his vision. A poem Winter hadn’t memorized—a passage from The Waste Land.
*Winter kept us warm, covering*
*Earth in forgetful snow, feeding*
*a little life with dried tubers.*