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Before the explosion of the ’Ford’, Admiral Alvin had already left the Norfolk Naval Base, trying to distance himself from that nightmare-like catastrophe.
But upon returning to the Pentagon, the symbol of power and decision-making, he felt like a fly trapped in a spider web, forced to face endless bureaucratic etings.
The supercarrier suddenly engulfed in flas caused a commotion akin to a tsunami sweeping through the entire military system.
All bureaucrats knew they had to quickly find a scapegoat, or no one would be able to withstand this overwhelming rage.
The Norfolk Naval Base sent out a call for help, claiming that the two A1B pressurized water reactors on the ’Ford’ had suffered devastating damage in the explosion.
The risk of radiation leakage hung over their heads like the sword of Damocles, yet the lengthy etings led to nothing but endless argunts and mutual excuses.
"Dick, help arrange a suitable ti and place with Congress."
Admiral Alvin rubbed his temples wearily from behind his desk. He didn’t specify which congressperson he wanted to et; he simply emphasized the word "suitable."
As his long-ti aide, Colonel Dick understood this perfectly.
The Admiral intended to evade the ubiquitous surveillance at the Pentagon, et several congressn he was closely connected with in secret, engage in so hidden back-room deals for self-preservation.
"Yes, sir." Colonel Dick responded expressionlessly, turning back to his desk to start making phone calls.
But amidst his busyness, he occasionally glanced up with icy eyes at the tightly shut door of the Admiral’s office, his expression dark and uncertain.
Just hours before the explosion of the ’Ford’, Colonel Dick had secretly t with the supposedly dead Ministry of Efficiency’s Minister Harden on a nondescript yacht outside the harbor.
’Harden’ was not only alive but had confird via various connections that the ticulously planned crash was indeed orchestrated by Admiral Alvin.
During their eting, Harden’s terms were simple and straightforward.
Colonel Dick could beco an inside man, providing Admiral Alvin’s whereabouts, earning a huge reward afterward and living in exile; or he could continue to be loyal, eventually falling into an abyss along with Admiral Alvin.
As for Harden himself, he had secretly reconnected with the vice president, and his future safety would be fully protected by the Special Service Bureau, while his revenge against Admiral Alvin was already in his plans.
For soldiers, choices are often cruel and swift.
Faced with two equally perilous options, Colonel Dick opted for self-preservation, abandoning Admiral Alvin’s shaky "sinking ship."
So... when Admiral Alvin tiredly left the Pentagon, boarded a helicopter to a yacht on the Potomac River, what he encountered was not congressn, but a face full of mockery and taunt.
"Harden, you’re still alive?" Admiral Alvin’s voice was filled with disbelief and shock. "You... weren’t you supposed to..."
Compared to those huge warships weighing thousands of tons, a yacht weighing two to three hundred tons was inconsequential.
But its interior was low-key luxurious, with a central parlor of over thirty square ters featuring a delicate round table, around which several guests sat with varied expressions.
"I was supposed to be dead, right?"
Zhou Qingfeng appeared as ’Harden’, lazily leaning against a leather chair, casually pointing at an empty seat by the table with an air of command: "Admiral Alvin, please sit."
Admiral Alvin’s sudden arrival astounded the guests present, who collectively turned their heads with eyes filled with shock and inquiry.
The Admiral instantly realized he had fallen into a ticulously arranged trap. Without hesitation, he turned to leave the dangerous yacht.
Colonel Dick, who had always been by his side, not only didn’t protect the Admiral but instead gripped his arm tightly, halting his action.
Standing behind Zhou Qingfeng was a burly, fierce-looking man—Ernst from the Ministry of Health, now Harden’s "number one enforcer."
He flashed a threatening smile full of teeth, then roughly pushed Admiral Alvin forward, forcing him onto a seat.
At this mont, Admiral Alvin finally understood everything. He swiftly turned his head, eyes blazing, glaring at his subordinate with a trembling voice of fury: "Dick, you... betrayed !"
Turning sharply again, his gaze like poisoned arrows, he stared viciously at Zhou Qingfeng sitting at the head, "Harden, what are you trying to do?! I’m a four-star Admiral; holding is a grave offense!"
On Zhou Qingfeng’s other side, Deborah efficiently set up a portable cara and small projector screen, her movents skillful and quick.
The screen flickered with light, gradually displaying the iconic dignified background of the Oval Office of the White House.
Soon, the "countryman" vice president appeared in the center of the screen, his eyes scanning the room expressionless before focusing on Admiral Alvin, who was being forcibly seated.
Since being brought here, the Admiral had refused to yield, struggling fiercely like a beast trapped, shouting hoarsely, desperately calling for help, trying to assert his status.
Until the vice president of high authority appeared on the screen, he quieted like a rooster seized by the throat, his voice now tinged with hope and strong questioning:
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