Chapter 89
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: Lakeside Night (8), Santa Margarita Lake
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The boy handled the reins with one hand. In the other, he gripped his rifle. Buttstock tucked against his side, ready to fire at any moment. It evoked the image of a lancer.
An engineer clung to his back. Both arms wrapped around the boy officer's waist. The size difference between the two made for a comical sight. But they were racing through the downpour. It was unavoidable if he didn't want to fall off. The soldier, unaccustomed to riding, bounced wildly with every hoofbeat against the ground. Winter clamped down hard with his thighs.
Thud, thud, thud. The hoofbeats were dull. They had veered off the road. It reduced noise, but made the ride far more treacherous. Bushes along the edge rushed toward them. Winter spurred the horse. He rose slightly in the saddle, leaping lightly over. His passenger, however, was not so fortunate. A jolt slammed into his spine, drawing out a pained grunt.
Midway, a variant leaped out. Matching the rhythm of the gallop, Winter squeezed off two quick shots. Ejected casings flew with rhythmic precision. The variant took the first round to the chest, the second to the head in a perfect three-shot, and tumbled backward from the third burst. Hooves trampled the corpse as they passed.
Bypassing the empty guard post, Winter reached the pump house. A bland, rectangular concrete structure. One large lattice window on the front, four on the side. He tied up the horse and pressed against the window with the engineer. Wiping the glass with his sleeve revealed only pitch-black darkness inside. Even with night vision goggles, nothing was visible.
‘No heat sources, but…’
There could be variants in hibernation. Suppressed metabolism meant no body heat from their flesh. Or higher-grade variants that masked their thermal signature. It was early for that yet, but Winter stayed vigilant.
The door hung open. The engineer snapped a chem light and tossed it inside. The infrared glow, visible only through NVGs, cast an eerie light over the interior. First in view: four large valves. The south wall held unidentified devices and a massive control terminal. But everything was powered down.
Winter gave the order.
“Get to work. I’ll guard the entrance.”
“Won’t take long.”
The confident engineer entered, but soon called out.
“Sorry, sir. Could use a hand. Ha ha.”
He gave an embarrassed grin. The boy asked.
“What’s the problem?”
“These valves are stuck. Haven’t been used in forever.”
It wasn’t a lack of strength. The U.S. military penalized those who fell short on PT standards, and engineers especially needed muscle—the man’s forearms were thick. But the valves were high up, and the floor slippery with water. Poor leverage.
Together, they turned the round handles with ease. One, two, three, four. Each loosened valve added a low rumble. Winter braced a foot on a pipe and felt the heavy vibrations coursing through.
The engineer checked the wall terminal and gauges, then shook his head.
“As expected… no power means no operation. We’ll have to open the drainage pipes manually down at the dam base.”
The Salinas Dam wasn’t multipurpose. No generation capacity, so controls relied on external power. With California’s grid down, everything was manual.
Winter urged him on.
“Let’s hurry.”
Lightning cracked as they headed up to the dam. For an instant, the structure gleamed white. Dual staircases flanked the front. The east stairs led to nothing, but the west ended at an interior door.
‘If the civilians could move, that’d be safer.’
Restricted access alone was a plus. Unless Captain Harris had antitank missiles to spare, the durability was solid. Winter asked the engineer.
“What’s inside there?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Yeah. They planned a control room, but no generators or spillway gates, so it got scrapped. Just empty space.”
All the more ideal, then. But the pregnant woman couldn’t possibly move. Winter let go of the idea and gripped the drain valve.
“Feels like they half-assed this dam.”
“Ha ha. Still sturdy, though.”
The slapdash assessment wasn’t wrong. Instead of proper gates, they’d installed pairs of drain pipes at the base on both sides. Traversing east and west to turn valves fulfilled its purpose. But they were just getting started.
Lightning struck again. Very close. Toward the engineer office.
“Mount up!”
Winter, seated first, hauled the engineer aboard.
‘Something blew.’
A heavy thunderclap mixed with a sharp explosion. Engagement or accident. Neither good.
The boy pushed the horse hard. Exhausted from prolonged chase and storm, it still gave its all.
Jeffrey greeted Winter with troubled eyes, bloodshot. Winter asked.
“What happened? No contact?”
“No, enemy’s still out there… but lightning caused a fatality.”
Not struck directly—that would be too straightforward. Winter already guessed. Jeffrey sighed deeply, confirming.
“Guy’s luck was rotten. Lightning hit near while setting traps. Set off a Claymore. Fresh install, must’ve been. Kunts caught the backblast. Medic says shock killed him instantly. Even if he survived, organs shredded… better this way…”
The platoon leader grumbled over his lost man.
“Damn, isn’t it pathetic? In this weather, setting traps—you gotta flank it. Idiot stood right behind…”
“Enough. Not your fault, Jeffrey. Mine. I should’ve warned them upfront.”
He meant it. Handling electric-detonated explosives in a thunderstorm demanded extra care. As commander, it was his duty to caution.
Jeffrey clung to undeserved guilt. Winter nailed it down.
“I’m responsible for this op. I ordered the traps. Until we’re back at Fort Roberts, all incidents fall on me first. Disagree? Rip off those bars, Lieutenant Jeffrey Brown.”
“No, sir. Sorry. I… lost it.”
Jeffrey wasn’t convinced, just discharging officer duty. Officers couldn’t dwell on one death mid-op. It burdened command. The boy expected as much.
“Stay here. I’ll check in.”
Jeffrey got the ellipsis. Considering him and the troops’ morale, Winter needed to pay respects.
Inside the office, Winter spotted the zipped body bag in the dimmest corner. Anxious faces turned to him. The medic tended the expectant mother as if nothing happened. Labor starting, by her labored breaths.
Winter approached the bag. Shielding it from eyes, he eased the zipper silently.
The corpse was bruised purple. Crushed face. More variant than man. Full force of a Claymore backblast.
A glance, then zipped. Footsteps approached from behind.
“My condolences, Lieutenant.”
The sheriff. She spoke with difficulty.
“Wouldn’t have happened if not for us.”
Winter reproved her.
“Kunts died in the line of duty. Don’t talk like he’d regret it.”
“But who knows? Might’ve felt it was pointless.”
“Exactly. We don’t know the dead’s mind. So don’t tarnish his honor with assumptions. It’s the best we can do.”
“Ah…”
The sheriff clenched a fist to her forehead. A choked groan rose in her throat. Winter suggested.
“Rest. You look exhausted.”
Bad timing. The radio operator entered, hesitating. Glanced at the sheriff. Not for her ears. Winter shook his head.
“It’s fine. Speak.”
The situation spoke volumes. Only one reason to seek him now. No other U.S. units nearby. The operator said.
“Incoming call. Asking for David Actual. Sounds like Captain Harris.”
An unfamiliar voice leaked from the receiver. Static worsening by the second, but comms held.
Reply fast. From the Meerkat warning, the captain had routed through Trickster to eavesdrop. He likely didn’t have their freq. No response, and he’d switch soon.
Winter led the sheriff and operator outside. Better she heard directly to ease her. At Jeffrey’s position, he took the handset and keyed.
“David Actual. Hear me, Captain Harris?”
[Copy. Finally linked up.]
Every visible soldier tensed. Comms meant proximity. And higher odds of Trickster contact. More exchanges, better triangulation.
Winter chose words carefully.
“Your voice sounds better than expected.”
[…What’s that supposed to mean?]
“No guilt. Pretty calm for a guy who massacred civilians. Guess you’re not right in the head?”
Response delayed.
[You’re misunderstanding.]
“Correct me, then.”
[Question first. Where’d you get we massacred civilians? You’re sheltering claimed survivors—confirm?]
“Affirm.”
[David Actual. Advise: execute them now. We didn’t massacre. They did. Criminal gang. Dissatisfied with rations, killed civilians we protected, took their stuff.]
Winter held up a hand to the fuming sheriff, countering.
“You think that makes sense?”
[What doesn’t?]
“Even if true, it’s wrong. Execute immediately? You sane? Criminals are civilians first. Unless heavy resistance, we protect those who ask. They couldn’t resist when found. Kill the helpless? That’s massacre.”
[…]
“If innocent, surrender. Come investigate formally with them.”
[No evidence. Don’t want false charges.]
“No choice. This whole situation’s on helmet cams. Our convo too.”
[Gear could’ve shorted in the water during exfil.]
“That your pitch?”
[Best offer. Or we fight, fellow Americans.]
“Nice threat. Keep going.”
[Let’s get serious. You know my name and rank, so fair’s fair—yours?]
Winter released the key, pondering briefly. Jeffrey shook his head. Revealing rank hinted at force size. But upsides too. Captain and men would know Han Gyeowol.
Hiding rank gained little.
“Jeffrey, they’ll spot our numbers on a probe anyway. Hide rank, he’ll think we’re weaker. Doesn’t seem the type to back off scared.”
“Ugh…”
Jeffrey had no rebuttal.
Winter keyed again.
“Lieutenant Han Gyeowol. Blockade HQ, attached to 160th Regiment.”
[Name… No way… That Han Gyeowol from Santa Maria?]
The captain enunciated carefully. Winter confirmed.
“Yes.”
[Incredible.]
Static filled his silence, echoing their fragmented talk. The eerie repetition built tension. Captain felt time pressure too. Silence didn’t last.
[Lieutenant, right?]
“Yes.”
[Good, Lieutenant Han Gyeowol. You know what this static means. You said no choices? Same to you. Fight me, then handle unknown variant numbers too? Protecting civilians? Stake your life on a zero-chance op?]
“Get that question a lot. Always same answer. Not can I—must I, Captain.”
[So you’ll make brothers kill brothers? No pity for your men? Plan to die by friendly fire here?]
“Asking them to join a civilian massacre hurts more. I trust my men. No one shirks duty. I’ll uphold mine to the end.”
Winter struck a nerve. The captain, irrational in words but rational in tone till now, erupted.
[Don’t play hero! Fresh-commisioned punk! I did three years in Afghanistan! Duty? To who?]
“Duty’s not privilege. Valuable because anyone can but few do.”
[Shut up, you bastard!]
Satisfying. What did his troops feel watching? Winter waited. The ranting captain eventually reined in.
[Listen. War creates no-choice moments. Mine too. No vehicles, fuel, food. Foraged daily, chased by variants, stuck in mountains. Ate raw game, guts burst, bitter meat! Imagine feeding hundreds of survivors like that! Bet you’d do better?]
“No, can’t claim that.”
Winter replied instantly.
“So say it to the JAG. Might get leniency.”
[You… to the end…]
“Surrender. Final warning.”
[…]
Radio went quiet. Long enough to seem abandoned.
[One tip.]
Harris resumed abruptly.
[Dying here’s a forgettable dog’s death. Survive, do more good than bad over life. No need to die now.]
Sounded right at first. Ordinary life, maybe. But crimes had degrees. Like parents selling kids—unforgivable.
“My tip.”
Winter warned calmly.
“Fight me, you all die.”
============================ Author's Notes ============================
Q. Reinecis: @You mentioned using Hellfires for infantry in the last chapter—U.S. is developing small guided munitions launchable from grenade launchers or small rockets to replace Hellfire. The one Korea recently revealed was joint research with U.S., Korea cut costs for mass production, then U.S. dropped out but it's done. Name's LOGIR.
A. Yes, author knows. Featured it in Sealbreaker once. Ha ha.
Q. Tigerfish: @Difference of squares of force -> difference of force squares?
A. Will check.
Q. [反]Kid: @Got into Cthulhu via Joara's "I Will Reset Humanity"—just basics, but... Amazon English recs?
A. Haven't dug that deep... Isn't The Little Prince of the Columbarium enough?
Q. HobakHobak: @Do U.S. sheriffs still have horses? How?
A. Mounted sheriffs, horse patrols exist. Farms everywhere in CA, picked up strays... Imagine :)
Q. RGZ95: @Getting heavier... Even withdrawal post-mission looks tough... Winter might pull it off?
A. Secret. Actually prepped a real big innocence event separately.
Q. WuxiaFan: @Do you like readers cursing you, author? Suddenly curious about tastes.
A. I dance to praise, old-school. Who likes curses?
Q. FlameNo: @Lame joke got teamkilled...
A. Dying to rescuers? Overflowing innocence tale.
Q. BaHui: @More into brain attacks than that...
A. Old ones say it's sexy enough to drive mad just looking.
Q. MasterCalSolum: @FSM is love and mercy. No tithing, no persecuting heathens. Fun, right? Good.
A. Spaghetti costs tho. Specialty shop prices...
Q. Glory's Spear: @Iraq bombings (and costs) make me think: drop dollars from bomb bays, they'd desert for it.
A. Think of it as flexing power and gaining combat XP...
Q. siRiUs: Curious if author’s good at Go or chess. Many novels have shallow thoughts/actions (even if I read brain-off...). Not chessing it myself, but depicting character minds/behavior like this ain’t easy. See the effort. Cheers!
A. Played chess a ton long ago, quit over 10 years back.
Q. Ghozt: @Barracks improvement reminds me. Junior brought a pile of bricks for cleaning—brushed broom, wall chunk fell. Speechless lol. Lucky not my barracks. You suffered, author. Vs mosquitoes and cold.
A. Outer barracks wall collapsed, exposing styrofoam insulation. CO said it looked bad, fix it... Drew bricks on the foam. Looks good from afar...
Q. MountainNa: @Count me in FSM Spaghetti... lol
A. Trust my tenth tentacle. Unitalogy Church.
Q. CaMo: Sneaky poke: bet those chat logs inspired by Joara comments (poke poke)
A. Yep. Influenced somewhat, hints too.