WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 145: Peep Show Grey (2)

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Time passed, and Gyeoul received a concrete cover identity. Kurt Lee. A Chinese-American, a twenty-two-year-old veteran of the Iraq theater, addressed within the fictional military company Orca Black by the rank he had held on active duty. That was the setup. So the team members still called him Lieutenant.

As props, he was given things like an ID and a passport. They were items he was meant to casually leave behind somewhere.

When Captain Fowler heard Gyeoul's new name, he made a complicated face.

"Do you know who that name originally belonged to?"

As it turned out, there had been a war hero with the same name. Kurt Chew-Een Lee. The first Asian-American officer in the Marines, apparently. He was Chinese-American, and had received the Navy Cross during the Korean War. Meaning he had come just short of the Medal of Honor.

Considering the pride of the Marines, that could have rubbed him the wrong way. Surprisingly, though, the Captain nodded.

"It suits you fairly well. He fought against the Chinese Communist forces, so there is a certain parallel with our current situation. I doubt he would resent you borrowing the name. Even if you are not a Marine."

He still did not meet Gyeoul's eyes when he spoke.

And today, Gyeoul was going out on his first patrol as Kurt Lee. He had arrived early and was waiting in the ready room for the members who would be going with him. Ah, right. He had almost forgotten. Gyeoul took a plastic case from his pocket and opened the lid. It was packed with small white tablets. He put one in his mouth and crunched down on it. He was not supposed to swallow the broken pieces, but roll them over his tongue and let them dissolve. It was intensely bitter. His tongue began to go numb.

「Survival Instinct」 reacted. It had a faint toxicity.

After a short while, the unpleasant sensation spread to the back of his throat.

"Ah, ah."

His voice changed.

The drug took effect when it touched mucous membranes, and became inert when it touched acid. The side effects were limited to a brief upset stomach. People with weak tonsils might develop a slight fever. That was what he had been told.

Even after the tablet had fully dissolved, the bitter taste did not go away. His mouth was bone dry. Other than that, he was fine.

Someone else entered the ready room. It was Corporal Dwayne Wolf, whose face Gyeoul had gotten to know during guard duty. He saw the medicine bottle Gyeoul had not yet put away and frowned.

"Did you take that medicine?"

"Yes."

The answer sounded like metal being ground down. The Corporal grimaced.

"After taking that, nothing tastes good no matter what you eat. Feels like your sense of taste gets dulled. I wasn't the only one who felt that way, either. My condolences, Lieutenant. You will have to keep taking it from now on."

"It cannot be helped. But Corporal, why did you take it?"

"It was a deception measure when we were short on options. We needed to create the illusion that our manpower was being constantly rotated out. Even to our allies."

That made sense. The members recruited from outside had all kinds of nationalities, backgrounds, and compositions. Gyeoul had seen the personnel roster. It would not be an exaggeration to say every nationality in the Pacific Rim was represented.

'There were surprisingly many from South America.'

So even if other factions had not planted people, Orca Black's own organization, divided between insiders and outsiders, was an unstable factor in itself. A ruling class separated like oil and water. A closed structure where the desire for upward mobility could never be satisfied. No matter how devoted someone was to the organization, they would receive only material rewards.

Even that could hardly be enough. This was a floating city. A place where humans and trash rotted together in one heap. No matter how well things were distributed, scarcity was bound to remain.

The divide between rulers and ruled was another problem. Even basic communication was difficult. Only a few members could speak foreign languages. Everyone else had to rely on interpreters.

'What was it again? Once three people gather, it is already a society?'

The alternative was fear and oppression. Gyeoul could understand why America's most elite special forces had complained of fatigue.

By the time he had thought that far, two more people entered. They gave Gyeoul rough salutes and sat down. Four specialists, each wearing slightly different equipment. This was the basic unit for outside missions.

A little later, the previous patrol team returned.

"Good work, Lieutenant Christensen. Anything to report?"

At Gyeoul's words, the leader of the returning team paused, choosing their words.

"I'm not sure if it counts as something to report... It wasn't bad. The first harvest is underway at the farm. It was more worth seeing than I expected. It was strange to see something other than cannabis being grown in this miserable place."

Gyeoul had read about the farm in the materials. He had wanted to see it once too.

Christensen and Gyeoul were still awkward with each other. The conversation did not last long. Good work. After leaving that formal greeting behind, Christensen went off with the team members in search of rest.

"Let us move out."

At Gyeoul's words, Corporal Wolf radioed in. He contacted the situation room and reported the start of the patrol.

The remaining two stood up at ease and put on their gas masks. They were people who had run special operations, so the lowest rank among them was Staff Sergeant. Even that could not be compared to a Staff Sergeant in a regular unit. They shared the same rank only in name. In practice, they had to be seen as one or two levels higher. Their pay grade was the same way.

If Gyeoul had failed to prove his skill, he would have been ignored outright.

'They might have treated me like an armed interpreter.'

In truth, many people were still uncomfortable with him. People who felt a sense of defeat from the skill Gyeoul had displayed.

People did not need a grand reason to hate other people.

The fortunate part was that Captain Fowler was sensitive to such matters. Was it the experience he had built as a commander? He split the assignments appropriately. That was also why Gyeoul often ended up with Corporal Wolf.

"Unit, attention!"

A booming command rang out. It came from the outside members waiting outside headquarters. Whatever they felt inside, they looked sharply disciplined on the surface. Gyeoul repeated it to himself again. Fear and oppression. Strong control.

He had been briefed in advance on how to act, down to the smallest movement.

In front of the members lined up on the yacht's deck, Gyeoul stepped onto the platform.

A ripple of agitation passed through them. Gyeoul had not put on his gas mask yet. So most of that agitation was probably not because they were seeing a new superior, but because, despite his vicious impression, he still looked too young. Among the augmented platoon-sized group of fighters, eleven failed to control their expressions.

One member naturally stepped out and stood beside the platform.

"Roster."

When Gyeoul held out his hand, the man at the very front among the eleven walked forward with crisp movements. Step, step, step. Traces of Marine-style recruit training remained in him. Gyeoul took the battered booklet from him. Starting from the top, he called the names in order. Tang Wenchang, Liu Yishan, Xue Zhu, Zhen Tao...

All Chinese. He had heard the action teams were organized by nationality at the unit level.

In a standard U.S. military roll call, it would end with the commander calling names, but not here.

"From now on, we will inspect weapon condition and remaining live ammunition. First row, forward."

Then 「Threat Level」 was deliberately released. Even before establishing an alliance, Gyeoul had already carried the presence of a predator. Now that several of his combat skills had entered the realm of the superhuman...

This applied only to potential enemies. The White Skull members looked puzzled by the outside action team members going rigid. In any case, they carried out the inspection in place of Gyeoul, their commander.

"Second row, forward."

The members knelt and disassembled and reassembled their weapons.

Since it was a fixed procedure, everyone understood easily even though he had spoken in English up to that point.

The operation had also been going on for a long time. Even if only to gain favor, they must have worked hard to learn the language of those in power. The CIA must also have worked hard to teach them in order to strengthen control.

'If they are trusted enough to be given firearms, that still means they are considered reliable people in the outside organization...'

Where had that trust come from? Probably from displays of firepower and skill. Enough to hold until units on DEVGRU's level could no longer withstand the accumulated damage and withdrew. Maintaining order and fair distribution came after that.

It was hard to restrict the members' armament too.

Orca Black's territory had a circumference close to eight kilometers. Maintaining control was difficult. But they could not reduce the territory either. That would leave a hole in the blockade of Changcheng 9.

As the third row began, one man's feet tangled. Nervous, he floundered and made a second mistake. His hand slipped while removing the magazine. While trying to catch the falling magazine, he dropped the gun too. The metallic clatter rolled noisily across the deck.

"You there. Bring your gun and come out. Leave the magazine where it is."

Another ripple of agitation passed through them at the fluent Chinese. Gyeoul beckoned. The man was drawn out by that cold gesture from the platform. Gyeoul held out his hand, just as he had when receiving the roster. The dazed man handed over his gun.

Tak. Gyeoul snatched it, spun it, and showed it to the man who had made the mistake with the safety facing up.

"You failed to confirm the selector was on safe before inspection."

Then he spun it again and pulled back the charging handle. Clack. He caught the round that popped out with a blurred hand. What he was acting out up to this point was the image of a Marine instructor. The kind of monster who knocked the souls out of recruits.

"And you did it with a live round in the chamber."

In other words, it would not have been strange if an impact had fired it.

"A weapon is the life of the person who fights. So what you dropped was your own life, but at the same time, you nearly ended the lives of your comrades too. Do you have a reason that could convince everyone here?"

"I was nervous... and made a mistake."

"That is not a reason, Xianbiao. It is an excuse."

Gyeoul held the gun in one hand and a person in the other. The faces watching changed. There was no sense of weight in the motion. Gyeoul spoke to the man whose eyes were now level with his.

"Reflect on it."

Then he threw him. The projectile went over the gunwale. Spray splashed all the way up to the railing.

There were other ways to set the mood, but they would have denied what Orca Black had built up. Unless Gyeoul oversaw the whole thing himself, discord would be inevitable.

'Not my taste, but it cannot be helped.'

The fault lay with the person who had carried a loaded rifle without even engaging the safety in the first place. It might be one thing if they had been in a security zone.

Gyeoul walked to the gunwale, each step of his combat boots ringing clearly, and saw the fallen man climbing onto some floating debris. What ship had thrown it away? It was a yellow duck boat for children.

"Corporal Wolf."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"Have everyone do corrective training until the fallen member returns."

"Understood."

It was a Marine's nature. The Corporal gave instructions without delay.

"Sergeant Tang. Translate."

Since the lowest rank in Orca Black was Staff Sergeant, the highest rank in the outside organization was Sergeant. There had been a few exceptions in the documents he received, though they were effectively honorary ranks.

"We of Orca Black never abandon a comrade, anytime or anywhere. A comrade's joy is my joy, a comrade's sorrow is my sorrow, a comrade's life is my life, and a comrade's death is my death! Then of course, should we not all take responsibility together for one person's mistake? Push-up, you morons! On one, 'comrade.' On two, 'hurry back.' Into position!"

"Sergeant! Is your head a dickhead? Can you not translate faster?" The Corporal's roaring sounded brutal, but in truth, this was one of the milder levels inside Golden Gate.

'Criminal organizations, or soldiers who became warlords.'

An army without pride and discipline was no longer an army. It was difficult for an army that had lost its government to maintain pride. Chinese officers who knew this treated their soldiers very harshly. Since this was also a means of displaying discipline, they did not bother hiding it.

Criminal organizations like Black Guerrilla were worse. The initiation rite was a group lynching. They claimed they would only accept strong, tough bastards. Not only did many die in the process, but even those who got in stayed at the very bottom of the hierarchy for a while. It would be troublesome if the ruling class grew too large.

The Corporal counted at a suitable pace. He would push them hard all at once, then mix in abuse and give them room to breathe. His control of tempo was excellent.

Was he better at it because he had gone through it himself? Watching him, Gyeoul thought that was probably the right answer.

============================ Author’s Note ============================

#MassRelease

That mass release everyone wants is something the author actually wants to do too.

But it is not that I am choosing not to. I cannot.

For example, the Aeolian Harp arc took two full days to write. I slept three hours in the middle.

I am this old thing with poor performance. Hehe. Full-time author career seems ruined...

#Q&A

Q. CurryRice-nim: @This is an obvious Trump parody.

A. Rejecting immigrants and isolationism are kind of the far right's regular menu... I did not particularly write it with Trump in mind, but since America is the setting, I guess it cannot be helped. Haha.

Q. OneChance-nim: @Come to think of it, what happened to North Korea in the outside world?

A. It took one week to collapse. There are a small number of survivors. I think you can probably imagine their condition. The chance of them appearing is very low.

Q. svjk-nim: @I enjoyed reading this. Together with current politics, it gives me a lot to think about. A good deed in an anxious situation that keeps getting worse. I can say that it is right, but if you ask whether I could do it... I do not know... What about you, author-nim?

A. Acting like a human being is endlessly difficult by nature. I do want to protect my childlike innocence, but I question whether that is possible for me. Everyone is probably the same. Unless they are saints.

Joanna said it in the story. That everyone would be able to overcome their own limits. That she hoped they would.

Yes, I hope so. I hope I am a person today, and a better person tomorrow.

Footnotes:

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