GoldenGate (3)

The conversation repeatedly broke off and resumed. It was a good way to relieve the boredom of a slow-moving ship. April Pacific was a topic deliberately avoided. So was the fate of that ship.

The setting sun dyed the sea. Curiously, there was no fog, so GoldenGate sparkled in golden light, living up to its name. The waters narrowed toward the Golden Gate Bridge. Red cliffs wound along the north. The batteries built on the high ground were imposing. Over a dozen artillery pieces were aimed at the sea.

With his vision enhanced, Gyeo-ul could even see soldiers jogging along the ridge. They looked exhausted as they climbed the slope. On the heights they were heading to were outposts and a flagpole. The Stars and Stripes waved in the wind. It was large enough to be seen from anywhere in the strait.

The same flag was visible on the southern side as well. The US military had seized control of both sides of the bridge.

‘How?’

Gyeo-ul felt a natural sense of doubt.

“Ann. Did a base like that ever exist? I don’t think it was on the broadcasts. I never heard about it otherwise, either.”

The San Francisco Bay Area was the epicenter of infection in North America. The US military had been badly beaten here. So, establishing a bridgehead was a symbolic event. The authorities would have no reason not to flaunt it. Let alone the media, starved for good news.

“That’s probably the case. It’s still a secret for now.”

“Why is that?”

Joanna replied playfully.

“Would you like to take a guess?”

Hmm. Gyeo-ul furrowed his brow in thought. If he could see the full scope of the base, it would help. Is there a runway, what’s the standard of the facilities, the size of the garrison and the kinds of equipment deployed, and so on. But what he could see now was only a portion facing the sea.

No, those things probably aren’t the point. Gyeo-ul reconsidered. Joanna was not someone who made meaningless jokes. She wouldn’t ask him to guess unless he could figure it out. Maybe she was testing his abilities. Or, even if not, it was a good chance to make a good impression. She’d already given him a small hint.

‘She said it’s still a secret, right?’

Is something not ready yet? Should he assume they plan to reveal it when the time is right? The only reason for a press embargo would be public opinion. Mutants aren’t watching TV, after all. There was no evidence that Trickster could understand human language. Otherwise, the front lines would have turned into a mess.

The presidential election. Right, there was that, too. Even the “Manifest Liberation” operation was subject to political conditions. Was the plan to unveil it at a decisive moment? People would certainly be ecstatic…

He thought of mentioning an election strategy, then closed his mouth. The FBI agent watched this with interest.

“Did something come to mind?”

“I thought maybe it was an election strategy. But even if I’m right, I don’t think it’s the main reason.”

“Why not?”

“Because even if public opinion goes out of control, it would be troublesome.”

“And why do you think that?”

“There are too many people in this city.”

The people Gyeo-ul mentioned were not sea refugees. He meant the citizens of San Francisco, still fighting in the isolated city. If it became known that a base had been built here, people would surely call for rescuing the stranded citizens.

“The estimated number was 800,000, wasn’t it? That’s the figure for the entire contaminated zone, but in a metropolitan area this size, it must be at least a hundred thousand. I’m skeptical whether the base can accommodate them. And the resources needed for rescue… They’d need a massive number of helicopters. If preparations for the Manifest Liberation operation get disrupted, that’d be a real problem. That operation is the most decisive thing for the election.”

San Francisco, oakland, San Jose, and other cities by the bay formed a single megalopolis. Just how many helicopters would it take to transport people in the hundreds of thousands? Maintaining military aircraft alone was no joke. Given their range, they’d have to be stationed and fixed for a while. It would be a serious drain on resources.

The FBI detective countered with an intrigued expression.

“Wouldn’t that reduce the airdrop burden, then?”

The United States dropped 5,000 tons of supplies onto contaminated areas every day, enough to sustain two million lives. Yet the number of survivors was only 800,000. And most of them still suffered from critical shortages.

That was because supplies were dropped by parachute. More than half landed in unwanted places. Even in just San Francisco, survivors were too widely scattered across the vast city.

‘The worst case is when people hold out in a single occupied building.’

He’d heard that in passing. There were a lot of people, but the area suitable for parachute drops was far too small.

Places like these were exactly where helicopters were needed. In terms of efficiency, this was where people had to be evacuated. Gyeo-ul had always wondered: Was there a reason they didn’t do it? Was there really such a shortage of helicopters? Or did they worry that, during a rescue, the reduced numbers would mean buildings could no longer be defended…

Gyeo-ul replied,

“Helicopters and transports are different. Saving on transports can’t make up for the lack of helicopters. And anyway, the Wooden Wonder isn’t a helicopter. There goes one now.”

The Do It Yourself for Patriots, a wooden transport plane featured on TV, was crossing the boundary of the ruined city. Soon, it dropped its cargo from the low sky. The pilot circled around the opened parachutes, apparently watching to make sure they landed correctly.

The slow contrail changed direction. Was the pilot satisfied, Gyeo-ul wondered, as he finished his thought.

“If they want to accommodate a large number of helicopters, the base will have to change, too. The facilities would have to be completely different. If the base here is being prepared for the Manifest Liberation operation, changing it now would be difficult, wouldn’t it? There’s less than two months left. More than anything, it would be hard to function after accommodating thousands of survivors.”

On the other hand, if they ignored public pressure for rescues, their approval ratings would plummet, so they had no choice but to keep quiet about the base. After Gyeo-ul said this much, joanna smiled softly.

“That’s good judgment. The more I learn about you, Gyeo-ul, the more amazed I am.”

Your character amazes me more than your talent, really. How can someone like you exist? To her calmly-delivered praise, Gyeo-ul gave an awkward, not quite fully formed smile. A bit embarrassed, and a bit happy.

‘Is this enough?’

Each time he built an expression, Gyeo-ul felt faint unease. It was because of the FBI supervisor’s competence. That indifferent attitude when analyzing the April Pacific madman. Her skill at reading people.

People proficient in 「Insight」 could sometimes pierce through feigned emotions. He hadn’t experienced that again since several worlds back. But he had been feeling empty lately, so he needed stronger acting. He had to be cautious around an agent armed with knowledge. If he was “Perceived,” he’d earn distrust.

That’s why he tried not to recall last night either. Afraid someone would notice the stone inside. The governor had prodded too much.

Joanna leaned against the railing, looking out over San Francisco.

“You’re right. They’re worried about runaway public opinion. Though there are other reasons, too.”

“What are they?”

“If you can remember your confidentiality oath, I’ll tell you.”

Gyeo-ul tilted his head, then pulled out his smartphone.

“Even if I wanted to leak it, I couldn’t, right? You’re monitoring everything. And even if I did tell people near me, the effects wouldn’t spread far. Honestly, you can be at ease with me. Not that I would go around talking about it.”

There was still a signal around here. Which meant the military smartphone network, nett Warrior, had a relay nearby. As he expected. There was no way there’d be no communications network at a CIA and special forces joint operation site.

What he hoped for was to contact the Gyeo-ul Alliance. But it was impossible. Though there was a signal, contact was restricted. Well, it was a military network, after all. Setting individual device permissions wouldn’t be hard. In the United States, even tanks needed a separate network password unrelated to their ignition.

Joanna looked slightly puzzled.

“May I see it for a moment, if you don’t mind?”

She fiddled with the device and confirmed that most functions were locked.

“I’m sorry. Even though I’m an FBI agent, I don’t know everything. I didn’t expect it to be set up like this. Are the available applications all combat support functions?”

“Yes. Things like ballistics calculators, coordinate generators, video reporting systems, fire support networks.”

“It wasn’t like this before. Both in function and in attitude, so much has changed since the war against infection. Sorry. You must be uncomfortable. I only meant to remind you about the confidential part.”

Their treatment of patriots is so low-class. She mumbled, and Gyeo-ul shook his head.

“No, not at all. Don’t worry about it. This is probably for the best. I’m more comfortable this way.”

Better than raising unnecessary suspicions. As he replied, Gyeo-ul tucked the phone away.

“So, what’s the other reason?”

“It’s just an unofficial hypothesis, but it seems mutants are deliberately sparing some survivors in contaminated areas.”

“Deliberately?”

“According to reconnaissance, mutants do not actively attack survivor groups within the city. Even though their numbers increase daily due to those coming up from South America, their aggression toward survivor crowds is actually decreasing.”

“That’s weird. Their attacks on bases aren’t like that.”

“Exactly. If they attacked civilians at the same level as military bases, there would barely be any survivors left in the contaminated areas.”

Gyeo-ul thought of San Diego, as he’d seen on TV. At North Island Base, base for the 1st Marine Expeditionary Force, the mutants’ assaults never let up. Yet, beyond the bay, civilians had still managed to fly their own flags. No matter how heavily armed, civilians weren’t stronger than the military.

Something had always felt off. But it hadn’t seemed important to Gyeo-ul. That was a story unfolding offstage, as far as he was concerned. Up to now, he’d chalked it up to selection and focus: an instinct to attack the strongest enemy while one still has strength. It didn’t make much sense. Then again, no one could fully understand mutants. This much reasoning satisfied Gyeo-ul.

After reviewing it in his mind, Gyeo-ul nodded.

“The motive must be provisions.”

“Yes. They devour any provisions that fall in the wrong place. Like ants keeping aphids.”

“You mean, they’ve figured out the relationship between supply drops and survivor groups… That’s not so surprising. If your hypothesis is correct, it’s going to be extremely tricky to rescue the civilians.”

No way would the mutants just let them go. If you couldn’t rescue all of them at once, it was inevitable that rescue efforts would be undermined.

“We’ve tried a few times already.”

Her complexion darkened. The result needed no explanation.

The beautiful scenery came to an abrupt end.

The wind shifted. What had been blowing from the sea toward the bay now reversed. A strong stench rolled in—a mix of fishy, rancid, and rotten smells blending into chaos.

The closer they got to the bay, the clearer the source of the stench became. All sorts of ships of every size filled the inner bay. Countless anchored vessels formed a floating city. Ships were bound to each other by chains, nets, and ropes. These became paths for people to move from boat to boat. The flamboyantly displayed national flags left a strong impression.

Garbage abandoned by the city had been swept out beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. Among it all were human corpses. Some might even be mutants in metabolic suppression.

Ratatatatat—

Gunshots cracked sharply. From several directions. Somewhere in the gusts of wind, someone’s scream mixed in.

Watching the city undulating on the waves, Gyeo-ul thought,

There won’t be any pleasant events here either, it seems.

—————————= Author’s Note —————————=

#Q&A

Q. From kkotipjeom: Author, do you like “maesaengi” (thread seaweed)?

A. I’ve never tried it. I heard it’s like very thin seaweed.

Q. From saenglyag: You said you quit smoking… Is it just my imagination or can I hear you gaining weight all the way from here?

A. I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my life. Maybe you’re confusing me with another author?

Q. From RGZ95: If I give you a high enough rating, will you come appear in my dreams and raise my Sanity? Tekeli-li…

A. RGZ95, do you need more Sanity? Hmm. Somehow, I don’t think so…

Q. From geunyangjeonyangmanyang: Sadly, I’m not the 46th commenter… If you show up in my dreams, I’ll just go “Gyahh, guahh!”

That’s a shame…

A. Haha. Sound sleep is one of life’s great joys. There’s really no need to meet me in a dream.

Q. From Dohwaon: You must have known the author is an Eldritch Being that appears when summoned… Wait, weren’t you always a fan?

A. Ah, how foolish I am… I completely forgot that none of the readers of this novel are pure of heart…

Q. From Bahoe: They say the secret to meeting the author in Dreamland is to attack the Naver rating system. Is that true?

A. If you keep using that method, the author will flee to Dreamland for good. Forever… ㅠㅠ

Q. From qgegegqe: On what logic is the 46th selected?!

A. (Average of first 45 ratings * 45 + X) / 46 = the 46th average score

You just have to solve for X. It’s simple middle school math. 🙂

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