The Little Prince in the Ossuary-Chapter 89 : Lakefront Night (8), Santa Margarita Lake

Lakefront Night (8), Santa Margarita Lake
The boy handled the horse with one hand. In the other, he held a rifle. He tucked the stock under his armpit, ready to fire at any moment. His posture was evocative of a lancer.
An engineer was clinging to his back. The engineer's arms were wrapped around the boy officer's waist with both hands. The difference in their physiques made them look rather ridiculous. But it was a sprint through pouring rain. There was no other choice if you didn't want to fall off. The soldier, unused to horseback riding, bounced up whenever the horse's hooves struck the ground. Gyeo-ul gripped his thighs tightly.
Thud, thud, thud. The sound of horseshoes was dull. It was because they had left the road behind and were galloping. It helped reduce the noise, but made the ride much more difficult. Shrubs by the roadside approached quickly. Gyeo-ul urged the horse on. Raising his lower body slightly, he lightly leapt over them. However, the passenger was not so lucky. With each jarring impact on his spine, he let out a groan.
A mutant suddenly sprang out in the middle of the path. Keeping in rhythm with the horse's breathing, Gyeo-ul squeezed the trigger twice. The ejected shell casings bounced rhythmically. The mutant was hit in the chest with the first shot, its head shattered with the second three-round burst, and toppled backwards under the third volley. The horse's hooves trampled the corpse as it ran past.
Passing the empty guard post, Gyeo-ul arrived at the pump house. It was a square concrete building, constructed without distinction. A large lattice window at the front, and four more on the sides. After tying up the horse, Gyeo-ul and the engineer approached the window. He wiped the glass with his sleeve. Inside, there was nothing but pitch-black darkness. Even with night vision goggles, he couldn't see anything.
'No heat signatures, but...'
There could be a mutant in torpor. When a mutant's body enters metabolic suppression, all warmth disappears. There were even high-grade mutants known to mask their body heat. Though it was likely too early for that, Gyeo-ul let down his guard for nothing.
The door was unlocked. The engineer cracked a chemlight and tossed it inside. The light, visible only through night vision, cast an eerie glow over the interior. The first thing visible were four large valves. On the southern wall, several unknown devices, and a single, large control terminal were attached. However, everything was powered down.
Gyeo-ul gave instructions.
"Get to work. I'll guard the entrance."
"I'll finish up quickly."
The engineer entered confidently, but before long, he was calling for Gyeo-ul.
"Sorry, but could you help a bit? Haha."
He laughed awkwardly. The boy asked,
"What's wrong?"
"No matter how hard I try, the valves won't budge."
It wasn't that the engineer lacked strength. In the U. S. Army, failure to meet physical standards brought serious consequences. And as expected of an engineer who did a lot of heavy lifting, his forearms were fairly thick. But the valves were positioned high, and the wet floor made his feet slip easily. Not good conditions for applying force.
Once the two of them got to work, the round handles began to turn easily. One, two, three, four. With each valve loosened, the low rumble grew. Gyeo-ul, placing his foot on the pipe, could feel the heavy vibration running through it.
After checking the control terminal and several gauges on the wall, the engineer shook his head.
"As expected... It doesn't work without power. We'll have to open the drainage pipes at the base of the dam manually."
The Salinas Dam was not a multipurpose dam. It had no power generation. Its control facilities received power from outside. Now that the electricity grid throughout California had stopped, everything had to be operated manually.
Gyeo-ul urged the engineer.
"Let's hurry."
A lightning bolt struck as they ascended the path to the dam. For a moment, the entire dam was revealed in a flash of white. There were stairs going both ways on the front face. At the end of the eastern stairs was nothing, but at the end of the western stairway, there was a door leading inside.
'If the civilians could move, that place would be safer.'
Access was limited from the start. Unless Captain Harris had a surplus of anti-tank missiles, its durability was assured. Gyeo-ul asked the engineer,
"What's inside there?"
"Nothing at all."
"Nothing?"
"Yes. A control room was supposed to be installed, but there's no generation facility and they didn't even add floodgates for the bypass, so the plan was scrapped. It's just an empty room."
Then it was even better. But the pregnant woman simply wasn't in any state to be moved. Gyeo-ul gave up the idea and said, as he grasped the drainage pipe valve,
"This dam seems kind of carelessly built."
"Haha. Still, it's probably sturdy."
Calling it carelessly built was not entirely off. Instead of installing proper gates, they had only put two drainage pipes on each side near the base. Going back and forth between the east and west sides of the dam and turning the valves completed their original mission. But it was only a start.
Lightning flashed again. It was very close—toward the direction of the engineers' office.
"Get on, quickly!"
Gyeo-ul, already on his saddle, grabbed the engineer and hauled him up.
'Something just exploded.'
In the deep rumble of thunder was mixed a piercing blast. Either a firefight had begun, or there had been an accident. Both were bad options.
The boy spurred the horse mercilessly. The horse, exhausted from a long chase and bad weather, was still pushed to its limit.
Jeffrey welcomed Gyeo-ul with distress. His eyes were bloodshot. Gyeo-ul asked,
"What's wrong? What happened? It doesn't look like there was a fight."
"Yeah. The enemy hasn't appeared yet, but... there's been a fatality due to lightning."
Of course, it wasn't a literal lightning strike. It was something more mundane. Gyeo-ul had already guessed the situation. With a sigh, Jeffrey confirmed his suspicion.
"Talk about shit luck. Lightning struck near where someone was setting up traps. The Claymore went off because of it. Looks like it was right after he'd armed it. That damn Kuntz got hit in the blast. From what Doc said, looks like he died instantly from shock. Even if he'd lived, his internal organs were all wrecked—he wouldn't have made it... Maybe it's a bit of mercy that he died quickly..."
The platoon leader grumbled over the loss of a member.
"Damn it, isn't this just pitiful? If you were setting up traps in this weather, you should have gotten to the side. Instead, standing right behind like an idiot—..."
"Enough. It's not your fault, Jeffrey. It's my mistake. I should've warned everyone in advance."
He meant it. When handling explosives using electric detonators during storms, extra caution was vital. As a commander, he should have issued warnings.
Unable to let go of his regret, Jeffrey could not move on. Gyeo-ul pressed the point again.
"I'm responsible for this mission. I was the one who ordered the traps in the first place. As long as we're out here, responsibility for every incident falls on me—first and foremost. If you can't accept that, take off your rank, second Lieutenant Jeffrey Brown."
"No, that's not it. Sorry. I just... lost it for a moment."
Jeffrey wasn't really accepting Gyeo-ul's words. It was a reply born from a sense of duty as an officer. An officer shouldn't get fixated on a comrade's death in action. It mustn't paralyze the command process. The boy expected as much.
"Stay here. I'll be back after checking."
Jeffrey understood who he meant without a subject being stated. Even for his own sake and the morale of the soldiers, Gyeo-ul had to send off the fallen.
Entering the office, Gyeo-ul soon found the zipped-up body bag. He had laid it down as far as possible from the light. People stared at Gyeo-ul with anxious expressions. Meanwhile, doc was tending to the expectant mother as if nothing had happened. Labor seemed to have started. She was struggling even to breathe.
Gyeo-ul approached the body bag. Shielding it from the others' view with his back as much as possible, he unzipped it silently.
The corpse was discolored bluish-purple—bruised. The face was mangled, looking more like a mutant than a person. That was the result of taking the full force of a claymore's blast.
After a moment of silence, Gyeo-ul rezipped the bag. Someone approached from behind.
"My condolences, first Lieutenant."
It was the sheriff. She spoke with difficulty.
"If you hadn't met us, this wouldn't have happened."
Gyeo-ul rebuked her.
"Private Kuntz died doing his duty. Don't imply he'd regret that."
"But we can't know that. He might have felt he died for nothing."
"You're right, we can't know the thoughts of the dead. That's precisely why we shouldn't insult their honor over things we don't know. This is the best we can do for him."
"Ah..."
The sheriff clenched her fist and pressed it to her forehead. A strangled groan rose from her throat. Gyeo-ul offered her some rest.
"Get some rest. You seem very tired."
But it was a bad time. The radio operator came looking for Gyeo-ul. The soldier hesitated, glancing sideways at the sheriff. He was indicating that this shouldn't be said in front of her. Gyeo-ul shook his head.
"It's fine. Just say it."
This entire situation was meaning enough in itself. There could only be one reason for the signals man to find Gyeo-ul now. There were no other U. S. Army units in the area. The radio operator spoke.
"We're getting a call request. They're asking for David Actual—I think it's Captain Harris."
Even now, an unfamiliar voice was coming through the receiver. The static was gradually worsening, but communication was still possible.
If they wanted to reply, they had to be fast. Based on the time since the meerkat warning, harris would have eavesdropped on their broadcasts at least once through the Trickster. In other words, there was a good chance he didn't know their current frequency. If there was no response, he would soon change it again.
Gyeo-ul took the sheriff and the radio operator outside. It would be best for the sheriff to hear the conversation directly. They moved to where Jeffrey was and picked up the receiver, pressing the transmit button.
"This is David Actual. Do you read, Captain Harris?"
[I read you. We're finally connected.]
Every soldier in sight was tense. The fact that radio contact was possible meant that the captain had drawn that close. And it also raised the odds of encountering the Trickster. With each transmission, they would get a better fix on the direction.
Gyeo-ul chose his words carefully.
"You sound better than I imagined."
[... What's that supposed to mean?]
"You don't sound guilty at all. Pretty calm for a soldier who massacred civilians. So you really must be insane?"
There was a pause before the reply.
[You're misunderstanding.]
"Then clarify."
[First, let me ask. Where did you get the information that we massacred civilians? I'm assuming you're sheltering those claiming to be civilian survivors—please confirm.]
"That's right."
[David Actual. I'm advising you. Kill them immediately. We're not the ones who committed the massacre—they did. They're a group of criminals. Dissatisfied with food rations, they killed the other civilians we were protecting and stole from them.]
Gyeo-ul gestured for the sheriff, about to burst in outrage, to hold back, then asked back,
"Do you really think that makes sense?"
[What doesn't?"
"Even if what you said is true, it's a problem. You want me to execute them immediately? Are you out of your mind? Even criminals are civilians at first. Unless they're violently resisting, the principle is to protect them if they request it. And when we found these people, they were already incapable of resisting. Should I kill people who aren't even resisting? That's the real civilian massacre here."
[...]
"If you're truly innocent, surrender. Submit yourself for a proper investigation with these people."
[There's no evidence. I'm worried I'd be punished unjustly.]
"There's no other option. Everything, even this conversation, is being recorded on the helmet camera right now."
[The equipment might have failed during river crossing.]
"Is that supposed to be convincing?"
[It's the best I can do. Otherwise, U. S. soldiers will end up fighting each other.]
"Nice threat. Keep going."
[Let's be more serious. You know my name and rank already, let me know your name and rank.]
Gyeo-ul released the transmit button, thinking briefly. Jeffrey shook his head. Once his rank was revealed, the general size of their force would be obvious. But there was also a benefit. The captain—and his subordinates—would know the name Han Gyeo-ul.
Hiding his rank wouldn't serve much purpose.
"Jeffrey. Even if we hide our numbers, a single recon will give us up. If we hide our rank, he'll just think we're lower than him. Doesn't look like the kind of guy to back down anyway, from how he talks."
"Ugh..."
Jeffrey couldn't argue.
Gyeo-ul pressed the button again.
"I am First Lieutenant Han Gyeo-ul, attached to the blockade command on detached duty from the 160th Regiment."
[Your name... Surely... Are you that Han Gyeo-ul from Santa Maria?]
The captain enunciated Gyeo-ul's name clearly. Gyeo-ul replied,
"That's right."
[Remarkable.]
The static filled the silence left by his words. That static was also the echo of their conversation. Fragmented lines repeating, creating a bizarre mood. The captain must have realized time was running out as well. His silence didn't last.
[You said you're a first lieutenant?]
"Yes."
[Okay, Lieutenant Han Gyeo-ul. I trust you realize what this static means. You said you had no other option. I'll say the same. You have no other choice. After fighting me, can you take on all the unknown number of mutants as well? While protecting civilians? Are you willing to risk lives on a hopeless outcome?]
"I get that question a lot. My answer is always the same. It's not whether I can—it's whether I must, Captain."
[So, you really intend to force comrades to shoot one another? Don't you feel sorry for your men? Are you going to let them get killed by friendly fire here?]
"I'd feel much sorrier ordering them to participate in a massacre of civilians. I trust my subordinates. None of them will abandon their duty. I'll do mine to the end as well."
It seemed Gyeo-ul's words hit a nerve. Until now, the captain's words had been irrational, but his tone rational. Now he snapped.
[Don't act so high and mighty! You only got your commission to play hero, you little chick! I served in Afghanistan for three years! Duty? Who are you preaching duty to!]
"Duty isn't a privilege. It's more precious because everyone can uphold it—and yet not everyone does."
[Shut up! You bastard!]
It was a satisfying reaction. What were the captain's men feeling as they listened to their commander? Gyeo-ul waited for the captain to calm down. After a long tirade, the captain barely regained control.
[Listen well. There are things on the battlefield that really can't be helped. The same was true for me. We had no vehicles, no fuel, no food. We had to find food every day just to stay alive. We couldn't even leave the mountains, running from mutants. Do you know what it means to be responsible for hundreds of survivors in such conditions? Sometimes we caught animals and ate them raw, without being able to cook them! Have you ever chewed on bitter-tasting meat, your guts burning from burst intestines? Can you swear you would have done better in my shoes?]
"No, I can't."
Gyeo-ul responded immediately.
"So take that story and repeat it in front of a military lawyer. Maybe then your circumstances will be taken into consideration."
[You... you really...]
"Surrender. That's my final advice."
[...]
Nothing further came from the radio. The silence was so long, it seemed the captain had abandoned the conversation.
[Here's some advice.]
Captain Harris's voice abruptly resumed.
[If you die here, it's just a dog's death, soon forgotten. Do your best to survive. If you did more good than bad over your life, that's enough. You don't have to risk your life in this moment.]
On the surface, it sounded reasonable. That is an ordinary life. But there are degrees, even to wrongdoing. Just as parents who sell their children can never be forgiven.
"I'll give you some advice, too."
Gyeo-ul gave a calm warning.
"All of you, if you fight me—everyone dies."
---------------------------= Author's Note & Q&A Follow-up ---------------------------=
Q. Raynesis: In the previous chapter, you mentioned using Hellfires against infantry, but the U. S. military is developing smaller guided munitions for launchers against foot soldiers, and locally produced LOGIRs. Comments?
A. Yes, I'm aware. I even featured it once in Sealbreaker. Haha.
Q. Tigerfish: Shouldn't it be "difference between the squares of forces" rather than "square of the force difference"?
A. I'll review that.
Q. [反]Kid: I got into Cthulhu through "I Will Reset Humanity" on Joara—recommend any English books on the subject?
A. Haven't searched that much myself. Isn't The Little Prince in the Ossuary enough? :)
Q. Hobakhobak: Do sheriffs in America still have horses? How do they keep them?
A. There are mounted sheriffs, mounted police. There are farms all over California—maybe they found ownerless horses... Just imagine. :)
Q. RGZ95: The further this goes, the harder it seems to just extract safely after the mission... but Gyeo-ul just might succeed?
A. Secret! I actually have an even bigger event planned.
Q. wuxian novelist enthusiast: Do you like it when readers curse at you? Curious about your tastes.
A. I dance for praise, my friend. Why would I like being cursed at?
Q. 火炎無: Died to a teamkill because your jokes weren't good enough...
A. If someone died at the hands of those who rescued them, that would truly be a childlike ending.
Q. Bahoe: I'm more interested in brain-kill attacks...
A. Seeing the Old Ones is said to be so sexy it drives even monsters mad.
Q. MasterKalsolum: FSM (Flying Spaghetti Monster) is love and mercy. Doesn't fleece you, doesn't persecute heretics—delightful.
A. Still, spaghetti costs money. Especially at restaurants...
Q. Glory of the Spear: Every time I see a bombing in Iraq (and see the cost), I wonder if some soldier wouldn't desert with all that cash if it rained dollars from the bomb bay...
A. Think of it as the cost of demonstrating global power and training the military...
Q. si리u스: I wonder if you're good at chess or go. So many novels have shallow characterization. It's not easy to portray characters thinking and acting as you do—you put in hard work!
A. Played chess a lot as a kid, haven't touched it in more than a decade though.
Q. Ghozt: Your story gave me flashbacks to army barracks repairs, like cleaning up bricks or seeing a wall collapse and drawing brick patterns on insulation...
A. My battalion commander once made me draw bricks on styrofoam insulation... so it looked okay from far away!
Q. 산나: I'm a Pastafarian too! Haha.
A. Believe in my tenth leg. It's Unitology.
Q. Ca모: I get the feeling your dialogue sections were inspired by comment threads on Joara—am I right?
A. Absolutely. I was influenced and even hint at it.