Game 155: [Chapter 10] Lead and Silver Coins (9)

Game 155: [Chapter 10] Lead and Silver Coins (9)

****

Fortunately, the situation was resolved without any bloodshed.

"I, I was just tense! Really! I never intended to harm!"

"Shut up, you snitch!"

"Ah!"

Ah, except for that guy. He was the initial reporter, and apparently, he's always been a bit off, so even after hearing his report, the station manager only ordered to aim without firing.

So, realizing there was some misunderstanding, I quickly came out to explain-

Bang-!

Crack!

A bullet fired by someone hit the truck's bulletproof glass. Before I could stop him, Vex was ready to return fire, and if I hadn't twisted the gun barrel away, dozens would have undoubtedly died right here.

It took 30 minutes for the manager to bring out the soldier who had fired, explain the situation, and for us to confirm each other's identities and realize that something had started off on the wrong foot. Only after the situation was somewhat resolved were we allowed to enter and finally face the manager of Station 42-a.

"Manager! Really! I never intended to shoot! My hands were just sweaty, so sweaty- uh- uh!"

"Shut his mouth! Take him to the warehouse for interrogation. He might be a spy for the Raptors!"

"Uh! Uhuhuh!!!!

.

.

.

.

A soldier desperately flailing, being bound and dragged away by others.

".You really have your hands full."

Watching the soldier being dragged to a gloomy warehouse, covered in blood, brought back old memories. Ah, the rookie. The fool. He babbled about infected Terrans and whatnot when reporting, and ended up causing a misfire. Truly, a commander's nightmare of a soldier.

Even my words of consolation seemed inadequate in the face of such a blunder, prompting the manager to let out a sigh that seemed capable of carving through the wooden table.

"I'm truly embarrassed. With the frequent personnel changes lately, such inexperienced individuals have ended up in external stations where we should have our most veteran soldiers. Instead of offering you the hospitality due a distinguished guest, we've subjected you to this unfortunate incident. Though it's late, welcome to Station 42-a."

"Ha! A welcome, you say. It's the first time in my life I've seen people greet with targeted gunfire."

Unfortunately, unlike me, Ezel's anger had not subsided. In fact, aside from me, the rest were all still fuming. Vex was raging, demanding the eyeball of the one who fired as compensation for forgiveness, and Ian was saying things like, I'm not one to put the safety pin back in once I've pulled it out,' looking ready to turn into Rambo at any moment, so the manager hurriedly assigned the station's supply manager to pacify their wrath with supplies.

This heated response was something I had instructed the kids to do, after noticing the disjointed shooting, the panicked expressions of the soldiers, and the ashen face of the commanding officer.

Good cop, bad cop. Carrot and stick. The most basic, textbook strategy that always works!'

[Three whips for one carrot. Isn't that a bit much?]

That's why I, the brains of the operation, am playing the role of the carrot.'

Vex, sitting next to the armed truck currently being washed and maintained, muttering about eyeballs and tongues in a macabre tone.

Ian, whose loud curses could be heard even from a considerable distance, in the supply warehouse.

And then there's us, facing the station's actual commander: Professor Park with a gold badge [Authority to exercise division head level powers in all Dome facilities], and Ezel with a silver badge [Veteran Investigation Bureau agent].

I hadn't planned to press this hard, but after losing our water and food supplies on the way here and realizing our resources were depleted beyond expectations, I couldn't pass up the accidental discharge' opportunity that fell into our lap. It's like I was just trying to withdraw my own money from an ATM when the person in front of me dropped their card. And what's this? A note with their account balance and PIN? How could I ignore this?

I was worried Ezel might not join in on this Dome fleecing' act, but during our arduous journey here, it seems his mind changed, as he's now actively, and indistinguishably between acting or sincerity, giving the manager a hard time.

Frankly, Ezel was the one who had it toughest among us four. Knowing how much worse it could get if we also ran out of supplies, his pressing of the manager felt not just sincere but desperate.

Personally, I felt proud to see him fall so splendidly in the right direction.

"An accidental discharge, you say Manager, can you take responsibility for that statement? Even if external stations are a bit distant from the city, someone in your position should be well aware of the situation the Dome is in, right? Or do you not understand the weight of the title manager'? Manager. The one in charge of overseeing the station! Every soldier here is under your responsibility! Even a minor mistake by a soldier could be considered to include your intent!"

Bang!

Ezel, truly embodying the role of an Investigation Bureau agent, further pressured the stuttering manager by slamming his hand on the desk.

"In this situation, with Raptor guerrilla forces running rampant, you target Professor Park, who is on a secret mission from the President himself? Manager, do you perhaps have complaints about the Dome's policies? Were you deeply displeased with the President's recent decision to overthrow the tripartite system and adopt a term system for the head position?"

"No, no! A sniper attack, that's a complete misunderstanding-"

"But that complete misunderstanding' happened, didn't it! So, did I just imagine the bulletproof glass on that armed truck being cracked open?"

"No, no, we've rested enough. It's time to get to work."

"Then, this way."

Following the manager's lead, we leisurely walked behind them into a large tent.

"Wow."

The walls were covered with operational maps and photo documents.

Soldiers busily distributed thick folders to our seats.

And the highlight was.

"All this in just 90 minutes?"

"After hearing from Professor Park and Ezel, I realized I had been too relaxed during peacetime and prepared as if going into battle."

"Well, the documents are one thing, but where did all this equipment come from?"

"In 30s Area, a lot of old-era equipment is still left, and machinery not related to survival is relatively easier to come by compared to other items."

In that short time, the manager, who had emptied an entire soldiers' barracks to transform it into a meeting room, had prepared a 3D screen projection device located in the center of a large round table, often seen during the Great War.

"Let's begin the report."

Whirr-

As the 3D screen flickered to life, displaying the bold letters "Station 42-a Mid-Year Report," the manager, regaining his confidence, began his presentation with a conductor's baton in hand.

****

"That concludes."

After an impassioned, indeed desperate reporting session had ended.

As if he had burned himself out, towards the manager who had finished the report,

Clap Clap, clap, clap.

Unknowingly, the rest of us, including myself, were sending our applause towards the manager who had finished his presentation as if he had burned himself out.

"All that combat data summarized in such a short time, and even finding footage and observation records from other stations"

"I'm truly relieved that you're satisfied."

The manager seemed choked up by my admiration, perhaps overwhelmed by everything. The combination of treason suspicion + family back home might have been too much. What was this middle-aged man thinking as he sifted through dusty archives?

"Hmm. To think the manager was this capable and diligent. A reassessment is urgently needed. I'll speak well of you, so for now, go and rest."

"No, I'd like to hear your review and feedback."

"I need to think, so just go quietly. Ah, the same goes for the others. You've all worked hard, now go and rest. We have things to discuss among ourselves."

Only after I firmly spoke did the manager and the officers hesitantly leave the temporary meeting room, allowing us finally to breathe out the breath we had been holding.

"Phew! Pretending to be tough is exhausting."

"Feels like the power of the strongest group in the wasteland. To think a remote station manager could be so capable. And the quartermaster, acting all over my dead body.' Dome people are no ordinary folks."

"Professor Park, what exactly did you say to the manager to make him so desperate?"

With Vex and Ian shaking their heads and Ezel slowly distancing himself from me,

"Well, if the outcome is good, isn't that all that matters?"

Professor picked up the baton left by the manager and reactivated the 3D projection device.

As the startup sound played, a detailed hologram of a dissected Raptor cyborg soldier appeared, complete with noise.

Each part, added and removed organs, contrasted with the latest technologies applied to cyborg soldiers as published by the administrative research team, and their traces revealed in various places near Area 42.

Faced with a masterpiece of a summary that nearly utilized every piece of available information here, I couldn't help but be amazed.

"When we meet the President later, we should ask for the manager's promotion."

"Absolutely. It'd be a waste for such talent to languish in the outskirts."

Agreeing with Professor, Ezel nodded emphatically as data overlaying the multitude of traces onto the map floated gently beside him.

Though not certain, it felt like we had grasped a clue to this mission, previously as obscured as if buried in fog.

****