"...So, the high-ranking officials. What the hell happened yesterday? Suddenly declaring martial law...?"
"Anti-governnt refugees in Central Park used ground-to-air missiles to attack U.S. military drones, so this morning, an ergency deploynt was made to eliminate the threat. For more detailed information, it’s in this printed docunt."
"Hah... Hahhh..."
The morning after the bewildering events of the early hours, in front of the Labor Office at Central Park HQ.
A number of civilians, who would normally not gather, had co out under the pretext of looking for work, wanting to understand what happened last night. As expected, the Central Park staff handed them out papers.
A brief silence, followed by sighs. Naturally, when the anti-governnt refugees shouted slogans, they were unable to hear anything due to the precautions taken by Central Park.
Because of this, the civilians who received the papers shook their heads in disbelief, letting out a heavy sigh. There were simply too many factual details for them to dismiss it as a lie.
So, with a bitter expression, looked up at the sky as if they had expected this outco.
When the anti-governnt refugees had fallen away, the pro-Arican Islamists and Chinese refugees who stayed behind were revealed to be the ones involved.
"…So, this is what happened. I thought it was a reckless move, bordering on madness, but... nothing has really changed, yet so much has."
"Isn’t that a good thing, though?"
"True, but that doesn’t make it any easier to imdiately accept logically."
"…"
As if nothing had happened, the world kept moving, but in that short ti, so much had happened.
When had they started preparing for this? Such thoughts passed through the minds of pro-Arican refugees who knew the full story better than most. But what could they do? It was too late.
And there were even more things they were curious about. For example, how did they manage to finish everything so quickly and so efficiently? A terrifying curiosity.
Was it Central Park HQ’s determination and strength? It was a question that anyone unfamiliar with the Dagger Team would naturally have, but the answer could be inferred to a certain degree.
And that was exactly what HQ had intended.
Soon, the President's address broadcasted on the radio, further solidifying the situation.
"Dear fellow citizens, I, Henry Michael Brayton, your current President of the United States, am appalled by the recent events in Manhattan..."
The familiar opening line of the address.
The fact that the President was still alive was enough to make everyone forget about the martial law declared just the previous dawn. He even ntioned the anti-governnt refugees directly.
Without any edits or alterations, he ntioned exactly what had happened, from start to finish, discussing the operation’s goals and execution reasons. Even the cynics couldn’t argue with the details, and the tone was cold and emotionless.
Later on, there might have been heated debates about whether the President was truly alive or what he was doing, but for now, that wasn’t the case.
anwhile, among the crowd, the Central Park Humint agents kept an eye on the public sentint. As always, it was warti, and such asures were necessary.
The optimal ti for misinformation to spread. Cynics would likely have a different way of interpreting the situation, and this was sothing they would rather avoid.
They gathered real-ti data, transmitted it to the TOC, and drafted responses for different scenarios. While the Dagger Team was carrying out the operation, it was the operational support team’s duty to back it up.
And one of those supporting people was already a relatively well-known figure within Central Park.
"Hey, Kooji. How’s it going?"
"…Kooji? How did I get that nickna?"
"If you don’t comb your hair, you can’t be called neat, you little brat. Anyway, now that the operation’s wrapped up, I hope we can finally rest. Don’t you think?"
"I still have a ton of other things to do, so I don’t think I’ll be resting anyti soon."
"Hah, I figured as much. You’ve had it rough."
Even though her hair was neatly tied up, being called "Kooji" still crossed Rapland's mind, but there was nothing she could do about it.
Anyway, the Central Park TOC was cool as ever. The technology applied to the Icarus Gear’s reactors ant that there were no concerns about power issues at this point.
The cool air from the air conditioning blew against her neck. It was a relief for Rapland, whose body temperature would rise and cause her to faint if not cooled.
But she also had concerns.
"...Now that I think about it, what will happen later?"
While the TOC was fine, working outside in the intense heat going forward...
Unfortunately, and predictably, she still didn’t have an Icarus Gear.
The reason was simple. It wasn’t a secret. While she had done a lot of work in Central Park, becoming an Icarus operator was an entirely different matter.
She was still undergoing basic military training. In fact, she was almost done with it. A month had passed, and just the previous morning, the operation had been executed flawlessly.
During that ti, Rapland had grown enough to avoid doing anything foolish, at least in combat or training.
'But…'
Looking at the long list of tasks ahead made her sigh.
Especially if she considered what kind of treatnt she was getting right now—she was a "mutant," and she would definitely be called upon for physical labor. Also, missiles were scheduled to be transported soon.
Fortunately, for the next few days, massive unmanned transport planes would be coming and going in this area, thanks to the reactors developed just before the Oga Virus outbreak.
While the number of such planes wasn’t many, if the maintenance and fatigue issues could be solved, they could transport goods indefinitely. Of course, the cost of rail and truck transport was much cheaper.
The rail system still hadn’t been fully restored, nor had the roads.
Especially the interstate highways, which had always had delayed construction. It was obvious what would happen to the roads that hadn’t received any repairs.
This is why Central Park sent reliable personnel every day to pick up supplies dropped in the area and bring them into the internal distribution system.
Rapland was heavily involved in that process and was very familiar with the list of supplies that would be dropping in the area soon.
"...What are you thinking, with that expression?"
"I was just thinking I really need that Icarus Gear."
"Suddenly?"
"If we’re moving containers and one of those missiles explodes, it’s going to be a disaster."
"...I see. I thought you were just making a strange comnt, but you’re right."
One fact was clear.
Rapland and the Dagger Team would likely have to transport explosives much more powerful than what they had before, and even though the Dagger Team was prepared for that, Rapland... well, if sothing exploded, she probably wouldn’t make it out.
Of course, C4 and similar explosives weren’t a problem since they wouldn’t detonate unless you set off a trigger, but things like white phosphorus rounds were a different story.
If a missile or white phosphorus shell exploded during transport, the outco would be disastrous for the transporter.
"Well, they’ll probably give us sothing like that. The Dagger Team has had a lot on their plate, and after yesterday's operation, they’re probably still dealing with the aftermath. They didn’t forget, right?"
"...Maybe?"
"Seems like you know sothing."
She did. She knew exactly what went on in the alpha-level mutant quarters.
But Rapland couldn’t say that. It was a sad reality.
As she watched the scene on the screen, it was all too familiar. The civilians, now understanding roughly what had happened, reluctantly took papers from the Labor Office guides and began finding work.
No matter what happened, the world moved on. Any unexamined connections would remain buried.
Rapland muttered to herself as she watched the screen.
"What will happen next?"
"Well, if you say it like that, I’m not sure how to answer."
"Just... well, as it is."
"Chaos that’s going to make this seem like nothing, right?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
It was a statent without any embellishnt. And because of that, Rapland knew it was true.
She smiled faintly and added:
"Don’t die, Chief Operations Officer."
"Yeah, you brat. I’ll live another 50 years, even after seeing you get married and have kids. Don’t worry."
"...Wait, what? Why would I get married to soone else?!"
"...What, weren’t you and Captain Paucus close? Ugh, damn it! Don’t get up, sit down! Don’t hit ! This is insubordination, you brat... Ughhh!"
Of course, the kind words were never really said properly.
And so, Rapland finally made a "bump" on the head of Chief Operations Officer Cain Whitebrim.
A few days later, on Governors Island, just 2 km east of the Statue of Liberty.
Rapland and five other mutants had learned what it truly ant to set up an anti-air defense base without heavy equipnt.
It was just another day.
"Looks like the rookie hasn't been here before. This island was used by the U.S. military and the Coast Guard until 1996. It was opened to the public in 2014."
"Ah..."
"Until recently, they held jazz parties, art festivals, and various events here. It was quite popular as a tourist spot because you could view Manhattan’s skyline and the Statue of Liberty from a distance..."
"...It doesn’t seem like that’s the case anymore."
"Right. It’s going to be an anti-air defense base now."
South Manhattan, Governors Island.
The weather was hot, with the sea breeze carrying the humid and salty scent of rotting garbage that had decayed in the water.
It was June, almost July, in Manhattan, and it was unbearably hot. The sky above was almost cloudless, aning the sunlight was beating down without any obstruction.
Despite the heavy workload, the workers weren’t dying from heat or exhaustion. Thanks to the Icarus Gear, the team felt more comfortable than they would have without it.
Governors Island was bustling with construction workers, drone transports, and materials being moved all around. The site manager, dressed in a simple and cool outfit with a fluorescent X-band, was overseeing the workers.
Work and rest periods were strictly separated, but the Dagger Team was the exception. They could rest and work whenever they chose.
So, after moving a large object into place, I walked with Logan along the walking path to cool off.
"The operation might be unmanned, but drawing the power lines over here will be a real pain. Getting here by boat will be hard enough, let alone transporting construction personnel."
"What about that reactor, or whatever it is?"
"Not sure. If we dig around, we might find one. But that reactor has to be compatible with the ground-based Aegis system. That’s the real issue."
"Yeah, I suppose that’s true."
"Well, it’s not sothing we need to worry about. It’s up to the power experts."
While we were talking, my eyes were drawn to the sky.
Dozens of drones were hovering above, with several large craft carrying huge missile platforms and supercomputing facilities hanging below them. They were probably about to land.
Looking at these machines, one might think that Arica still had its strength, but in truth, it didn’t.
If sothing went wrong and those platforms were destroyed, Arica would be in real trouble. The reason was simple: there were no backups left. This was the last of their strength.
The VLS pods for the ground-based SM-6 were grouped together, forming blocks. Each pod carried 16 missiles, which ant there were well over a hundred missiles. If the enemy were to launch an assault on the northeastern U.S., this place would be the first line of defense, taking out enemy aircraft.
Of course, before that, they’d have to survive the missile shower first.
"...This still isn’t enough, is it?"
"This is just the minimum preparation to survive the first full-scale battle. If we can achieve better results, that’s great, but we can’t lose sight of the goal."
"Yeah, I guess so."
It was obvious.
Even if Arica had managed to avoid the Oga Virus fallout, they couldn’t stop a full-scale missile attack from a Russian-Chinese alliance. The defense base they were setting up now was only ant to preserve their power.
That didn’t an they were expecting to just sit and take a beating. Arica still had missiles. When full-scale war broke out, the skies over northeastern Arica would likely be ablaze.
That ti was inevitable, so they hoped there wouldn’t be too many casualties when the storm hit.
After finishing our walk, we returned to the worksite and saw Rapland struggling to carry around a 200kg load of materials. Logan chuckled as he patted on the back and went off to another task, while I walked behind Rapland and offered to help.
"Want to help you out?"
"...Can you get an Icarus Gear?"
"You look like you’re struggling. Just let help."
At that, I took so of the heavy load she was carrying, lightening the burden by about 60kg. She looked relieved at last, and I smiled.
As we walked, Rapland suddenly spoke up.
"I’ve got one thing I’m curious about."
"What is it?"
"About Captain Paucus... Are you still getting along with him?"
"Captain? We don’t see each other much, but when we do et, he always greets warmly. He’s a really good guy, I should bring him a gift next ti I see him. Why are you asking about him all of a sudden?"
"...You talk too much."
But it was true. Captain Paucus had been a lifesaver.
Anyway, Rapland and I moved the materials to the designated spot. But after that, I had my own tasks to attend to, so it was ti for to head off... or so I thought.
Rapland seed like she had sothing else to say, so I waited for her.
After a brief pause, Rapland spoke again.
"...Never mind, I’ll ask later."
"Sure, feel free to ask whenever."
It was a sowhat anticlimactic end to the conversation.
I shrugged off any lingering confusion and headed toward where I needed to be. Maybe Rapland would tell later, maybe not. But it was a beautiful day.
anwhile, Rapland, left alone, scratched her head and muttered to herself.
It was likely that she didn’t fully understand what kind of "concern" she had.
That’s how people’s minds work, after all.
Reviews
All reviews (0)