Chapter 25: We Can’t Just Sit Here and Take It
Translator: ShutDoor
The most important thing when responding to a national emergency was to keep ordinary citizens from realizing there was an ‘emergency’ at all.
Just as an accident in the military was treated as though it had never happened if it could be contained and handled internally, crisis management on a national level was not much different.
There were some things in this world the public was better off never knowing.
For instance, delaying an official announcement after detecting signs of terrorism in order to minimize nationwide panic.
Of course, the United States had done that and then suffered the 9/11 attacks.
“I don’t think you could say that in front of the public.”
“…”
No answer came. The person who had asked the question had never expected one in the first place.
The two walked silently down the corridor. Plain, neutral-colored doors without a single identifying mark lined both sides.
Intelligence operations ordinarily presupposed close cooperation and information sharing with other countries. This time, however, that was impossible.
First France, then Saudi Arabia. One after another, countries that were clearly wealthy and powerful rather than developing nations had seen their security threatened in ‘inexplicable ways’.
The heads of government in every country were already fighting desperately to secure their own nations. None had the luxury of listening to screams from abroad.
Hadn’t a minister in France and the crown prince of Saudi Arabia been ‘recovered’ mangled beyond recognition?
From that moment on, the international situation had become a vision of hell that only appeared normal on the surface.
The two people in black suits finally reached the thick double security doors at the end of the corridor.
Beep.
The room was packed with others in black suits, as well as people in immaculate military uniforms stripped of their rank insignia.
All unit patches and rank insignia had been removed to prevent their identities from being exposed, but the generals whose faces were widely known to the public remained recognizable even without them.
If everyone present had one thing in common, it was the darkness hanging over every face.
Click.
Once the two had quietly taken their seats, a man who appeared to be an aide gave them a slight nod and began the briefing.
“The U.S. Department of Defense has informed us that it will take no special measures involving U.S. Forces Korea, citing security in the Pacific, until the physical implications of the message ‘Demo version ending’ have been clearly determined.”
“…”
“However, we have confirmed that every U.S. military base in South Korea, including Camp Humphreys, has gone into lockdown effective immediately, with all personnel prohibited from leaving base or receiving visitors.”
The top-secret reports before the generals and senior agents were filled with bizarre records that would trigger international panic the moment they became public.
The tragedies in Saudi Arabia and France, which far too many people had learned about to be concealed, were not even included.
Instead, they contained reports on the communications blackout in part of Belarus, villages that had vanished from the Cambodian jungle, anomalous satellite images captured over outlying regions of China and Russia, unidentified traces discovered in the wastelands of Africa, and more.
Chilling events that had taken place in deep shadows beyond civilian view were recorded in the reports alongside dry casualty figures.
All of this had been caused by a single piece of software released on December 24.
Countries such as South Korea and Japan, where public discontent with the government was ‘relatively’ low, had not encountered any major problems yet.
But they could not simply sit idle just because nothing had happened so far.
“…China and India got absolutely wrecked.”
A three-star general clicked his tongue pointedly as he leafed through the report.
True to his position as commander of VII Corps, which would spearhead any northward advance in an emergency, he seemed outwardly unshaken even in this bizarre and bleak atmosphere.
Even he, however, added no more unnecessary remarks.
His role in this operation was clear.
His mission was to prepare replacement forces capable of immediately filling any gaps in the front line should any ‘accidents’ or ‘vacancies’ arise among the divisions conducting ‘night exercises’ throughout Gangwon Province as of today.
“Accordingly, as every division in Gangwon and northern Gyeonggi Provinces begins large-scale ‘exercises’, I ask that the other generals covertly assign forces to cover the resulting gaps in our defenses.”
The operation had two objectives.
First, determine why ‘Construction’ was impossible in the Gangwon Province area and immediately secure any suspicious individuals found there.
Second, use these ‘exercises’ to minimize the possibility of defections or independent armed action within the military during any future domestic emergency, thereby firmly securing central command and control.
“January 3, 2027, 09:42. The operation begins now.”
*****
It was now January 7, 2027, at 9:17 p.m.
The locations displayed on General Kang’s screen were also in Gangwon Province, but they were a considerable distance from our shelter.
Chuncheon was at least ninety kilometers away, Hongcheon roughly fifty, and Inje more than a hundred.
There was no way the androids, who had only been dispatched a few hours ago, had already reached those places and installed surveillance equipment. This was the fruit of the backdoors General Kang had planted in Gangwon Province’s traffic-control network beforehand.
On the shoulder of a national highway visible through the CCTV feed, military light tactical vehicles, commonly called LTVs, stood in a long line alongside military ambulances and other vehicles.
The scale was too ominous to dismiss as a simple exercise.
“…”
At least in the unit where I had served, those armored LTVs were generally issued at a rate of one per company. I was almost certain, considering I had ridden around in one as the radio operator for the five-minute rapid-response squad.
Of course, the number could vary depending on the unit and its equipment allocation, but there were dozens of LTVs on the screen alone.
Even considering that the vehicles were stopped at different intersections and points along the highways, the number was highly unusual, even for a large-scale winter exercise.
All the more so given the nature of the Republic of Korea Armed Forces, which had become extremely sensitive to safety incidents and generally avoided night exercises after allowing soldiers to use cell phones.
Granted, January was when major exercises such as winter training and KCTC were usually scheduled.
But the movement patterns of the troops appearing on the monitor were, how should I put it…
Far too blatant.
Like an inescapable dragnet straight out of a martial arts novel, vehicle teams and search parties on foot had been deployed throughout remote mountain valleys and rugged trails where no ordinary exercise would ever dare venture.
The exercise was being conducted on such an enormous scale that even drones had appeared.
And that vast encirclement had started near the armistice line at the front and was slowly sweeping south like a broom.
General Kang watched it for a moment before commenting.
“No matter how I look at it, there appears to be another objective behind this supposed exercise.”
Judging by their rate of advance, they had apparently been sweeping through Gangwon Province’s mountain regions under the pretense of ‘training’ for at least three or four days.
Something truly terrible might have happened if General Kang had not obtained this traffic-control data in advance.
I could have been sitting leisurely at my campsite in the middle of the mountains, tapping away at my laptop as usual, only to come face-to-face with soldiers.
That might have been manageable for me, but Ann was a different story.
She was a foreign national with no record of ever entering the country. From that moment on, the situation would have spiraled out of control.
Ann added in a dry voice.
“We can fabricate something as simple as an entry record at our discretion. The android units dispatched to the other sectors are also establishing flawless cover identities.”
In any case.
The fact remained that we had avoided a crisis by a hair.
I had shaved regularly and kept myself reasonably neat while living in the mountains, but any perfectly healthy man in his twenties holed up in a tent deep in the mountains of Gangwon Province in the middle of winter was bound to look suspicious.
At most, I had expected a visit from a Korea Forest Service official or a lost hiker. I had never imagined the military would show up.
General Kang spoke again.
“The ordinary soldiers and officers probably believe this is merely a more intensive night tactical exercise than usual. The drones were likely justified as part of search training reflecting recent trends in modern warfare. The actual search operation is most likely being conducted separately by a special mission unit with the appropriate security clearance.”
“…”
If ordinary soldiers found a suspicious civilian like me during their search, they would probably report it to their superiors by radio and move on.
But it would be a different story if the higher-echelon unit and special mission team receiving that report were immediately deployed to the scene.
And there was one decisive reason I could be certain this operation was no simple military exercise.
“Hmm…”
No ordinary exercise would search the interiors of abandoned mines with such persistence.
But when on earth had General Kang planted a backdoor in an abandoned mine seventy kilometers away?
“Neglected private facilities are often abandoned without even basic security infrastructure.”
Apparently, the remote location had actually made the task easier.
General Kang tapped the keyboard a few times, and live footage appeared of soldiers in black special-operations uniforms combing through every corner of the deserted mine.
True professionals, the special forces operators noticed the installed CCTV camera as soon as they entered and went on alert.
But perhaps they concluded it was an old camera originally left in the abandoned mine, which was not exactly wrong, so they merely glanced at it and took no further action.
“It is time to decide how you will respond going forward.”
There were two main issues I had to consider immediately.
First, should I safely withdraw from the mountain or hide inside the shelter?
That was not even worth considering. Obviously, I had to hide in the shelter.
The moment I left the mountain, I would hit the construction range limit and all work would grind to a halt.
I had no idea how many more days the military would remain encamped in the mountains, but right now, every single day was precious to me.
Second, what should I do about the access route and underground transport passage connecting the mine to the shelter, which were intended to bring the scientists I was recruiting safely inside?
“I recommend postponing work on that section for the time being.”
I agreed that Ann’s advice was sound.
Under the original plan, I would spend the remaining eight days before the scientists arrived renovating the mine and finishing the underground transport passage leading to the shelter.
The idea had been to clear away the ghastly atmosphere unique to a ‘sinister abandoned mine’ and leave them with a strong first impression: they had arrived at a proper research institute.
But right now, securing my own safety took priority over everything else.
It would not be too late to make that first impression after the scientists set foot inside the underground research building itself.
If the ‘exercise’ lasted longer than expected, I could simply contact the androids I had dispatched in advance and postpone the scientists’ travel schedule by a few days.
That left only the tire tracks from the box trucks near the abandoned mine, the footprints left by the massive Juggernaut, and the question of where to hide the four of us: me, Ann, General Kang, and the Juggernaut.
Of course, the Juggernaut, being a military expert, could conceal the footprints and tire tracks itself. But hiding four people(?) in the mountains from reconnaissance drones and special forces was nearly impossible.
“I recommend that you remain hidden in the shelter for the time being.”
That went without saying, and I intended to follow the advice.
‘Tsk.’
Still, the thought that I would have to keep letting them take the initiative like this until the government collapsed left me feeling strangely frustrated.
“Administrator.”
As though he had read my mind, General Kang spoke.
“If it bothers you that much, there is also the option of placing one of our people inside the government.”
It was tempting, but was that actually possible?
Of course, it would be nice to have connections in the government. But the odds that someone senior enough to access useful information would side with me approached zero.
Recruiting someone was not entirely impossible, but I would have to offer just as much in return and account for the possibility that they might betray me at any time.
“I have drawn up a preliminary shortlist.”
But General Kang paid no heed to my doubts and handed me dozens of pages. Strictly speaking, they resembled a personnel roster more than reports.
They contained people’s photographs, personal details, workplaces, family relationships, contact information, and other data regarded as practically public property in a country where personal information was leaked so often.
The one unusual detail was that every person listed was either a civil servant or a soldier.
The roster was weighted toward mid-ranking civil servants whose positions were neither especially high nor low, along with field-grade officers such as majors.
It sounded as though he intended to recruit the people on this list.
Granted, high-ranking figures such as generals and ministers would be difficult to recruit in the first place, so I could understand choosing people of lower rank. But I also wondered how much these people could possibly know.
‘Hmm.’
Of course, a parliamentary aide would know far more than most people…
But considering that parliamentary aides sometimes went on to enter politics through proportional representation or similar routes, they seemed far more likely to report me than cooperate willingly.
General Kang’s answer, however, was nowhere near what I had expected.
“This is not a list of people to recruit.”
“…Then what is it?”
“It is a list of people who would be relatively unlikely to arouse suspicion if we ‘replaced’ them in an emergency, and who would have a high probability of rising to key positions during a crisis.”
I was about to question him when I realized what General Kang truly meant.
An Enigma’s appearance could be configured at the time of purchase.
In other words, if I acquired Enigmas modeled after the people on the list in advance, they could later ‘replace’ those individuals naturally if they died or vacated their positions for some reason.
The most obvious example of that ‘some reason’ would probably be war.
Officer casualties rose during wartime, so promotions happened far faster than in peacetime. Especially if a war dragged on, it was not uncommon for someone to race through promotions that would ordinarily take years.
Someone who was merely a field-grade officer now might be a general commanding troops by the end of the war.
There was one problem, however. The premise only worked if war broke out within the next sixteen days.
If it happened after the demo period ended, I would not be able to purchase any new Enigmas anyway.
But there was exactly one way around that restriction.
I could purchase androids modeled after the people on the list in advance.
Then, if one of those people died and left a vacancy, I could naturally fill the position with the prepared android before a new successor was appointed.
“Exactly.”
“…Hmm.”
Ann, with her strong scientific disposition, was no slouch when it came to efficiency either. But compared to a soldier who treated real human lives as numbers, she suddenly seemed downright humane.
I was a hard-core T (Thinking) type myself and tended to prioritize reason over emotion, but it was dangerous for an entire organization to operate solely on numbers and efficiency.
‘I might need a staff adviser who can offer advice from a more human perspective.’
It was not good to hear only opinions skewed too far in one direction.
But that was not something I had to consider right now. Reviewing the personnel roster came first.
There were at least several hundred people on the roster.
Of course, he could not mean to ‘replace’ all several hundred of them. He had simply compiled every candidate with potential.
We would probably replace anywhere from a few people to a few dozen.
But there was one practical issue I needed to consider.
Most of the essential facilities had been completed, but I had not even started on the artificial satellites, additional Juggernauts, external operations support facilities, entrance observation post, medical room, communications room, and more.
So I had to run the numbers in my head and decide whether purchasing additional Enigmas would truly be more useful than other military equipment.
For example, might building a hangar to store equipment such as missiles and attack helicopters be far more useful in some respects than planting our people inside the government?
Bluntly speaking, the money required for a single Enigma could buy more than a dozen of the latest Apache helicopters, dozens of spare engines, all manner of sensors and radar systems, hundreds of thousands of rounds of ammunition, and well over a hundred Hellfire missiles.
“It was merely a proposal for your consideration.”
In that case, it was fine.
If I still had money left after accounting for all of those things, I intended to buy as many futuristic models such as Enigmas and Juggernauts as possible.
I singled out those two because Juggernauts specialized in combat and Enigmas in internal administration.
First, the Juggernaut was an irreplaceable suppression weapon capable of bringing overwhelming firepower to bear even within the cramped confines of the shelter.
The Enigma, meanwhile, was visually indistinguishable from a human and possessed information-processing abilities so vast that an ordinary person could not even hope to match them.
Most importantly, those were the only two models that required no separate energy source.
“The Enigma is also capable of combat to a degree.”
As General Kang said, regardless of its appearance, it possessed the physical strength of an adult man.
“Then I will prepare a detailed plan based on the projected remaining funds.”
“All right.”
It would take the soldiers searching northern Gangwon Province two days at the earliest and three at the latest to reach my location.
But if I wanted to minimize the variables, it made sense to hide as soon as possible.
「Beginning construction.」
It was time to bring the shelter that had existed only in the blueprint into reality.
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