Angel Island (1)

The Corona Triumph dropped anchor at the US military base northeast of the Golden Gate Bridge. Since it was almost the open sea if you went any further, the waves hitting the pier were rough. At the front of the base, there was a small bay named Horseshoe, but it wasn’t wide enough to accommodate a cargo ship. The entrance had been narrowed by a breakwater.

The escort ship, ramon Alcaraz, also docked at the same pier. Filipino naval officers and soldiers stepped onto the land with exhausted faces. They huddled in small groups, lighting cigarettes. It looked miserable as several people took turns smoking a single one. The wind was cold, but their clothing was insufficient, so those waiting hugged their own shoulders. Some stamped their feet to stay warm. The homeland they had lost was once a warm country.

Gyeo-ul pressed his foot firmly into the ground. He paced a few steps back and forth, repeating the motions. It was the process of adapting his body to land. It would pass soon enough anyway, even if he kept still, but it was his habit to always keep his combat-readiness at its peak. An FBI agent smiled, watching him.

“Still feels weird, right? Feels like the ground’s heaving.”

“Yes. It’s only my second day and I already feel this way.”

Even though the Corona Triumph was huge, it had skirted the edge of a typhoon. His body was still feeling the waves. It was similar to how you feel when you step off a treadmill.

Joanna glanced around and tilted her head.

“Looks like our ride isn’t here yet. We did send word ahead… Could you wait a little longer?”

She excused herself and headed toward the guard post, leaving Gyeo-ul behind. The sentries’ uniforms were quite different from standard US military attire. They wore solid blue uniforms – Coast Guard. Two members were sneaking glances at Gyeo-ul. He could feel their curiosity. It was the same during the Christmas skirmish. The tank platoon isolated after running out of fuel. Platoon leader First Lieutenant Edmund Durant had been surprised when he saw Gyeo-ul, wondering if he was real.

There was a quiet conversation going on between Joanna and the sentries, though Gyeo-ul couldn’t hear it. It didn’t last long. One of the sentries nodded and used a radio. The other kept sneaking looks. Gyeo-ul saluted them. Oh. His lips formed the word. He straightened his posture for them. Joanna turned back, her expression shifting from puzzled to gentle.

She returned and spoke.

“They’ll be here soon. Let’s wait a bit longer.”

Gyeo-ul asked,

“This isn’t the final destination, is it?”

It was an hour when dusk had not yet faded. They had been told they would only meet the previously deployed operation team after midnight. Joanna pointed to the sea in response.

“No, it isn’t. This is just a stopover. First, you’ll go to that island over there. Angel Island. That’s also just a secondary waypoint. In the end, you’ll be moving by submarine.”

“Submarine?”

“Because our operations HQ is on a modified cargo ship. We’re posing as a private military company that turned criminal. The first mission is to gather intel among sea refugees.”

A private military company… Gyeo-ul accepted it. Otherwise, there was no way to explain the special forces’ combat effectiveness and organization. In the end, they were a group that killed for money. In a world approaching its end, it was not strange for them to have become criminals.

Joanna continued.

“Even if it’s just an act, we’re doing all the things a criminal organization does. We have our own territory, patrol it, collect protection fees, start fights or clash with other groups, and sometimes pretend to be mercenaries, which is our ostensible main business. That way, we form relationships with refugees from nuclear powers… Or, let’s skip the unnecessary words. Basically, we’re working with the Chinese.”

Russia was still maintaining control over its own navy. The situation was different with China.

It was all fine, except for one thing on Gyeo-ul’s mind.

“You collect protection fees? From those people?”

“That’s what you’re worried about first, I see.”

Joanna seemed pleased.

“Don’t worry. The more we collect, the more we distribute. Striking the balance so it isn’t too obvious has been tricky. But it’s something we needed to do for the mental health of the operatives. The refugees probably just think US transport planes pass through often. In fact, many praise us for keeping order without greed.”

It meant airdrop supplies were falling here very frequently. It was more plentiful than elsewhere.

Mental health, huh… Gyeo-ul asked again,

“Do the operatives collect the fees themselves?”

“They did at first. But now we have recruited members into the organization, so the frequency has dropped. It hasn’t vanished, though. We can’t trust the refugee recruits entirely. To prevent unnecessary violence and double exploitation, someone has to watch onsite. Everyone dislikes the job, so they rotate turns.”

“Recruiting members… This is pretty serious.”

“We’d be in trouble if we were discovered. It’s got to be thorough. That’s why you’re especially well-suited. Your experience in the refugee zones is invaluable. Especially your dealings with the Triad. The CIA didn’t select you for nothing, Gyeo-ul.”

“Oh my. Just how much do you know?”

Joanna hesitated in response. That was an honest reaction. With her experience, she was probably used to hiding her intentions. It was a sign of favor, enough to make her hesitate.

What kind of night did Joanna have yesterday, Gyeo-ul wondered. How much did his reputation matter?

If she hadn’t investigated through other means, her trust would be hard to understand. He’d expected as much.

Gyeo-ul reassured her.

“It’s okay. I actually think it was necessary. If it let you trust me more.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I don’t think the ends justify the means. But I do think humans have limits. The refugee zone was that kind of environment. People became vicious to survive. From the outside, it probably looked repulsive. What other way was there for me to gain trust in that situation? Combat prowess? Reckless bravery? No. That’s not evidence that I was good.”

“The end result would’ve been the same anyway. It just would’ve taken a little longer.”

“That little bit of extra time is precious. It was a good opportunity.”

Joanna, hearing him say that surveillance was actually an opportunity, shook her head.

“It was from December to January. Orders came from fairly high up. They wanted to judge whether, after becoming prominent, you’d stir up trouble. As you know, the situation in the United States is…”

“You don’t need to make excuses. Thanks for being honest, anne. You probably weren’t supposed to tell me. I’ll keep the secret. Should we pinky swear?”

Gyeo-ul playfully offered his pinky for a swear. A bit of intentionally manufactured playfulness.

“Hoo, honestly.”

Joanna gave a wry smile. Gyeo-ul steered the conversation back to the previous topic.

“It’s nice that we don’t have to victimize struggling people, but there must be side effects. Sounds like you have to kill a lot of people.”

Areas with more supplies are bound to attract greedy groups. Wouldn’t they be attacked more often? That was his question. The FBI agent affirmed Gyeo-ul’s worry.

“It was like that at first. They had a lot of trouble with frequent raids.”

“So what happened?”

“They showed overwhelming force. So much so that no one would dare to touch them. In that process, two DEVGRU teams withdrew.”

DEVGRU – US Navy Special Warfare Development Group. In this world, Sergeant Ashford had mentioned them before. Warned not to become a knife like them, fit for easy use and easy to be broken.

If they retreated, then maybe he needed to reassess the difficulty of this mission.

“Withdrew…? That’s surprising. Was it because of casualties?”

“No. They are the top US special forces, after all. It’s not worth burning up their ammo and getting worn down against untrained gangs, no matter how many there are. But it was because of stress. Even if the enemy is human trash, there were just too many deaths. And the operation lasted a long time.”

“Wouldn’t it have been simpler to just increase the supplies to the surrounding area?”

Gyeo-ul countered. If people weren’t hungry, they’d be less motivated to attack, although that wouldn’t eradicate it. Humans have limits for everything except greed.

Joanna said that was not the right solution.

“It was realistically difficult. First, our transport capacity is limited. How many extra planes would we need to satisfy all the neighboring regions? The more sorties we pull for this operation, the more shortages we cause elsewhere. Things are getting a bit easier with the increase in alternative aircraft like the Wooden Wonder, but the top priority is preparing for the Manifest Liberation operation.”

“Now that you mention it, I see your point.”

“Next. That measure might reduce skirmishes, but fighting wouldn’t disappear. People here spend their idle time just staring at the sky. A lopsided increase in supplies would lead to an even bigger revolt. Purely in terms of lives lost, it’s better that we take the fatigue.”

“Aha.”

“And finally, supplies are currency. It’s hard to trade with people who want for nothing. You can only make good deals when the other side is desperate. Remember the nature of the mission, Gyeo-ul. It’s a cold truth… but they have to stay hungry.”

Everything she said was reasonable, so Gyeo-ul merely nodded. In any case, if they were willing to make a deal, it was obvious that their supply situation had improved compared to before. As cold-blooded as it sounded, it wasn’t really fair to call it inhumane.

“One more question. Is my activity here going to be a problem?”

I mean, my face is way too well-known, right? Joanna’s answer was casual.

“A disguise will be enough.”

“That’s all it takes?”

“Don’t underestimate the CIA. They dig around a lot, but they used to be the world’s top intelligence agency. You’ll be changed so much not even your own family will recognize you.”

He felt a stain in the words—”used to be.”

Was it because in this dying world, there were no proper competitors left? Or did she mean literally “used to be” was all there was left to say? The FBI and CIA didn’t have a great relationship, anyway. Their fields were different, but in the grand scheme, they checked each other’s power.

‘Anne was originally dispatched as a supervisor, after all.’

She’d said so at their first meeting. That domestic operations of the CIA were supervised by the FBI. Few welcomed being watched. Not everyone could be like Gyeo-ul.

The conversation broke off. An engine sound approached from the north.

‘Hm? That’s odd.’

It wasn’t the usual hum of a Humvee. The vehicle rushing toward them with headlights on was red. Flashy enough to be clear even under the dimming sky.

“… Ferrari?”

A voice filled with confusion came from beside him. A civilian car in a military base was unusual enough. But if it was a luxurious brand, even more so.

Is that… our pickup?

Unbelievably, it was. The driver stuck his head out the window of the red, 4-seater coupe. He spoke to the sentries and then looked over at them. Grrrung—the smooth engine rumble. The slowly approaching Ferrari 612 Scaglietti came to a stop in front of Gyeo-ul and the FBI agent. The driver and a passenger got out and saluted smartly.

“Sorry we’re late. There was a mix-up in the control room. FBI Special Supervisor Agent Joanna Gibson, and… wow, first Lieutenant Han Gyeo-ul. It’s really an honor to meet you. I’ve been looking forward to your arrival.”

“Ah, yes…”

“I’m Second Lieutenant Aaron Barker. Please call me Lieutenant Barker. And this is Private First Class Lazaro.”

After exchanging greetings, he opened the rear door of the coupe like a doorman. Please get in. Still puzzled, Gyeo-ul climbed in. Joanna got in after him and said,

“I thought a Humvee would come, but a Ferrari… I’m a bit surprised.”

“Oh, you mean this one?”

With a big grin, Lieutenant Barker started the engine and answered,

“We operate many requisitioned civilian vehicles here. There are a few reasons, but mainly to reduce the maintenance load for military vehicles. Also to save fuel. As you know, humvees are gas guzzlers. Civilian cars get better mileage.”

Joanna mumbled, surprised to hear someone talk about fuel economy while driving a 12-cylinder coupe. Barker laughed out loud as if he’d heard.

“What’s it matter? Good is good. I was elated when I found this while out scouting. A Ferrari in my life! The only luck to come my way in this age approaching the apocalypse.”

Is this guy a bit like Jeffrey? Even though they’d only just met, Gyeo-ul felt a strange sense of familiarity.

The car passed the Coast Guard office and entered the main base area. It wasn’t far at all.

“Welcome to Fort Baker. In the 22nd century, this will be the site of Starfleet Command.”

Starfleet Command? What was he talking about? Gyeo-ul had no recollection or image of it; it was outside even the range of intelligence augmentation.

Lieutenant Barker looked at them, filled with expectation. But when both the FBI agent and the young officer responded blankly, a downcast expression appeared on his face. Private First Class Lazaro, up in the front seat, scolded him.

“Oh, come on. Who even knows Star Trek these days? I’m embarrassed for you.”

The lieutenant looked even more glum. He really did seem like Jeffrey’s type.

—————————= Author’s Notes —————————=

#Questions I Can’t Answer

I try my best to respond to comments tagged with @, especially those that end with a question mark, but there are times I just can’t answer. Sometimes it’s too key to the plot, or too tricky, or for other reasons…

Please don’t feel bad if the author avoids answering. Haha.

#Q&A

Q. MaesilConcentrate2: Joanna Gibson hihi @… Now that I think about it, if humanity completely perishes, what will the corpses eat? Wouldn’t they go extinct together?

A. Not really. With metabolic suppression, their consumption is lower compared to their numbers, and they can eat more than just people. Two pieces of relevant foreshadowing have already been dropped.

Q. Sasaseed: Will someone like Trump win the election in this world? Or is he already president?

A. The United States in this setting is heading into a presidential election. Please trust in the author’s childlike innocence from here.

Q. 千變千雨: @Like in Columbarium, I will show up in your dreams, and Gyayakdoo waaagh eeeek

A. Cheonbyeon Cheonwoo, you’re already living in my dreams. It’s a secret, but when I wake up, the universe ends.

Q. OneChance: @Oh my, trump is elected. Doomsday approaches. Where can I buy a Dreamland visa?

A. Uh… Trump is a bit iffy, but still, the old ones are worse. And our country is probably better than Dreamland? … Maybe not. Whether the Chief Ritualist at the Blue House has contracted with one of the elders is what really matters!

Q. Diflun: @Are you going to keep posting on Joara instead of switching to premium? Naver is pay-per-episode so I’m curious? ;ㅅ;

A. I promised, so I’ll keep that promise.

It’d be great if people would stop copying the whole thing elsewhere. Someone copied up to the latest chapter again yesterday.

Q. Dohwawon: @We ride the innocence. This is purity. That’s why it’s not just demons, but when the author’s innocence is low, people become devils, gyak guaak

A. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? I feel like you were already a devil even before Columbarium started serialization. @[email protected]

Q. BapeneunChitsol: @Author, do you jot down sudden lines, situations, or ideas that pop into your head? I do, but it’s hard to actually write the story… (I’m secretly tired from playing Mabinogi or Overwatch!)

A. Of course, I jot them down. If I think of something in my sleep, I record it on my phone. Sorry to hear the writing isn’t coming along. I have trouble when I’m tired too. Constant fatigue from sleep disorders is a problem for me. Haha. Cheer up.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep