WeTried Translations
Translator: Coughing Baby
Editor: Coughing Baby
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 454: Stuffed Paradise (16)
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The forces Gyeoul took command of were a patchwork: one National Guard Company, the U.S. Marshals Service Special Operations Group (SOG), agents of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, ATF, and others. From the faces in front of him, it strongly looked as if they had scraped together whatever they could find. It was not enough manpower for a crisis this serious. They all answered to the federal government, but no department liked giving up its own people. Even when the one asking was Gyeoul.
Even so, Gyeoul did not consider it insufficient. As long as he was here, few lunatics would dare launch an open attack, if any. He built a joint military-police command structure on the spot and put the Independent Battalion officers in charge of control. Naturally, both the National Guard and the police had their own commanders, but when two organizations with different systems had to move together, they needed staff officers in the middle to coordinate them. That was the first reason Gyeoul had brought the Independent Battalion officers.
He had come running as soon as he confirmed the orders, but he had still had plenty of time to work out the operation. Gyeoul made the subway station his base, turned a wall map into a temporary situation board, gathered the officers, and fired off orders in rapid succession.
“We will designate Race Vine station as a liaison office and evacuation facility. If there are civilians who need protection, shelter them in the underground station first. Ensign Hironobu.”
“Yes!”
“Detach one squad and deploy them to guard the subway station. Choose a person in charge and report back.”
“Understood!”
“Injured civilians are to be directed to the university hospital across the street. Ensign Kang Seon-yeol, take this and negotiate with the hospital administration office. Tell them to consider it an advance payment and accept the wounded we send over. Formally, I will be prepaying the treatment costs in a personal capacity.”
What Gyeoul held out was a check he had prepared in advance. The signature was, of course, Gyeoul’s. There was no way an expense like this had already been allocated as public funds.
Ensign Kang Seon-yeol was stunned.
“T-two hundred thousand dollars? Why would you spend your own money on this...?”
“Because people will die before the administrative measures catch up. That amount should at least be enough to have them provide emergency treatment to civilians, even if it falls short. Go now. I will give you ten minutes.”
At Gyeoul’s firm tone, Ensign Kang accepted the check, still visibly flustered. A check bearing Gyeoul’s name and signature would be a powerful bargaining tool all on its own. Beyond the amount itself, the hospital could even hope for advertising benefits later.
In the United States, if patients were handed to a hospital without this sort of greasing, the hospital was highly likely to leave the injured unattended on the grounds that it had exceeded capacity. Or even if it treated them, the care might be perfunctory, and patients afraid of the cost might refuse treatment.
It was hard to call this the fault of for-profit hospitals alone. In a disaster like this, accepting patients was usually a loss for the hospital. When it came time to claim treatment costs after the situation was under control, the treated patients, the city authorities, the state authorities, and the federal authorities often passed the bill around among themselves. In the end, the hospital would likely have to write the treatment costs off as bad debt.
And the patients would have gone bankrupt long before that.
‘This time will be an exception, though.’
Even now, cameras were running beside him. It was not a live broadcast. Gyeoul and the press had agreed that this part would be released after the situation ended.
If the media covered this, would Kramer, who was crying out for health insurance reform, simply let it pass? In the end, a mere two hundred thousand dollars would probably produce an effect worth several million or more. He could simply consider the two hundred thousand dollars a donation toward a better world.
“Ensign Im Ho-jin, take one platoon and defend the northern boundary of Chinatown. From Broad Street to the intersection of 10th Street and Vine Street, establish a blocking line along the Expressway. Place one team at each overpass, and send another team to cover each section between the overpasses. Organize the rest as reserves.”
Ensign Im Ho-jin hesitated.
“Will that not leave us short on manpower? The reserves as well.”
One team consisted of four people. One rifleman and leader, one regular rifleman, one grenadier, and one support weapon gunner. It was true that this seemed too thin for blocking major roads.
Gyeoul shook his head.
“No. It is enough. Cut all the lights on that side. If that is not feasible, shoot them out. That number is enough for the reserves too. I will send a strike team over the blocking line.”
He meant for them to make use of their excellent night combat capability if needed. No matter how well equipped a militia was, few had full sets of night vision devices and infrared aiming devices across the board.
On top of that, the expressway cutting through the city had been built one level lower than the ordinary roads. Chinatown was right behind them, so if they defended while using the terrain as a barrier, they could assume they would not be surrounded.
Next, Gyeoul called Yura.
“Lieutenant Lee Yura.”
“Yes!”
“Form a strike team, Lieutenant. Mix the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, ATF agents into one platoon. This requires strong visibility, in the sense of a public demonstration. Think of it as a kind of mobile defense and move aggressively, but leave the anvil role to the platoon and put the police forces up front. Police are more capable when it comes to suppressing demonstrations.”
Of course, it depended on the police. The ones Gyeoul had with him were elite federal law enforcement.
He demanded visibility because they needed impact. If scenes of rioters being arrested on a large scale were broadcast, the momentum of protesters in other areas would falter as well. They were already shaken by Gyeoul’s appearance.
Given the situation, Yura asked with a more formal bearing than usual.
“Sir. Are we leaving the Benjamin Franklin Bridge alone?”
The bridge she indicated was the route connecting Philadelphia and Camden. Gyeoul nodded.
“Leave it. Let the protesters escape.”
They could not block the retreat route. The goal was not to detain as many rioters as possible, but to calm the unrest itself. Those who had committed murder and arson would disappear, but even allowing for that, ending the situation quickly was better for minimizing casualties.
“Sir. If visibility is the issue, would it not be better for you to step forward personally?”
“I will induce the vigilantes of Chinese descent to disarm. I will join you after that, if necessary.”
In Gyeoul’s view, disarming the vigilantes was the highest priority. Public opinion toward citizens of Chinese descent had turned cold because of unfair reporting by some media outlets. Therefore, the broadcast needed to show Gyeoul disarming them.
‘The core is still the information war.’
The best way to clean up the media’s abuses was with media.
It was also difficult to leave this to someone else. If it were Bravo Company officers, the Chinatown residents would accept them without resistance because they too were of Chinese descent, but the problem lay with the Bravo Company officers themselves. They hated being seen as such. The desire to appear different often expressed itself as violence. In other words, there was a high chance of an accident involving civilians if they acted outside Gyeoul’s sight.
‘The only one I can trust at all is probably Ensign Wang Kechai...’
One of the reporters, Helen Tamiris, took their staff and attached themselves to Yura. Even without being asked, Tamiris had understood the need. Judging by the look sent Martineau’s way while leaving, though, there seemed to have been some kind of bet over which side would stay with Gyeoul.
Gyeoul’s instructions continued.
“Ensign Li Ailing, I will attach two U.S. Marshals Service agents to you, so go to City Hall and serve as a liaison officer. You can sell my name any way you like. We need to draw support from the city police as quickly as possible.”
Philadelphia City Hall was only three blocks from the station where Gyeoul had set up. Naturally, city police forces were concentrated there.
“Leave it to me.”
Li Ailing saluted with resolve. Her particular ambition had caught fire. Since the odds were good, she saw this as a chance to earn points with Gyeoul.
‘She must understand the situation.’
The Philadelphia city police were not sitting still because they were incapable. They simply lacked motivation. If they stepped in to suppress the unrest, they would take the casualties and lose public support at the same time. If the city police protected Chinatown, many media outlets would immediately condemn the mayor. Therefore, the mayor had no reason at all to move the city police.
But now things had changed. Lieutenant Colonel Han Gyeoul had intervened in the situation, so they would not miss the chance to share in the achievement. Of course, there was no longer any reason to worry about public opinion.
Under these conditions, Li Ailing, calculating as she was, could not fail to persuade them.
After placing the remaining officers, apart from those assigned staff roles, where they were needed, Gyeoul did as announced and personally entered Chinatown.
“Put down your weapons and follow instructions! From now on, we will protect this place!”
The vigilantes heard Gyeoul shouting in Chinese and obediently put down their weapons. Leroy Kaa’s camera, following Martineau, captured every moment. Unlike the earlier operational instructions, which had been placed under embargo, this scene was being broadcast live nationwide. The sight of the collected weapons piling up would soften many citizens’ hostility.
One vigilante who had been searched made a proposal to Gyeoul.
“Could our vigilante group help you?”
His English was fluent. Gyeoul refused, taking care not to sound cold.
“It is all right. You only need to follow my instructions.”
But the man, who seemed to be some kind of vigilante officer, did not accept it immediately.
“It is because there may really be some madman among us. If you are hurt, Lieutenant Colonel Han, or... if the worst should happen, our fate will fall into the abyss.”
Gyeoul tilted his gaze toward him.
“I understand how you feel, but a soldier’s duty is to protect citizens. Not the other way around. Please trust me and the public authorities, and wait somewhere safe.”
“But-”
“I am sorry. I do not have time, so I must go. If anyone is injured, please tell the police. We will take action immediately.”
Gyeoul emphasized the police presence. He had deliberately given them that role.
‘I have to turn trust in me personally into trust in public authority.’
To the people watching the broadcast, Gyeoul’s actions had to look like an exercise of public authority, not the actions of a single individual. It was a flaw that the uniforms and equipment of the accompanying U.S. Marshals Service agents were comparable to the military’s, but in any case, they were police as well. The words US Marshal were printed on their body armor.
The Chinatown residents who had been terrified finally relaxed and burst into tears. To them, too, Gyeoul was an incomparable hero. He was already famous for using subordinates of Chinese descent without discrimination, and they were moved that such a hero had taken a risk to save them.
Martineau signaled to the staff.
“Cut, cut. Turn the cameras. It will be a problem if those voices go out for too long.”
Kaa agreed.
“It is a bit much to have them shouting like that in Chinese...”
It would only reinforce the sense of alienation most American citizens felt toward people of Chinese descent.
Even while moving busily, Gyeoul heard the exchange and sent them a glance of thanks.
Thanks to these efforts from several angles, the situation quickly began to calm. By the time two hours had passed since Gyeoul’s arrival, it was fair to say that virtually all the violence had ended.
Then a radio call came from Yura.
「Sir. The Pennsylvania Military Reserve is offering to help with public order duties. What should we do? They say they are a militia formally approved by the state government.」
“Formally approved?... Confirm the facts, and if you can take command authority, accept them. Place them as far from Chinatown as possible.”
「Yes. I will handle it so you do not have to worry.」
Not all militias were the same. Separate paramilitary organizations existed as legal nonprofit groups certified by state governments. In emergencies, they would be absorbed into the State Defense Force. Among militia organizations after the start of the end, they were one of the types most favored by citizens. That was why Gyeoul allowed Yura to command them.
The sight of a militia made up of ordinary citizens protecting Chinatown would be quite symbolic for American citizens.
‘Can I breathe a little now...?’
Gyeoul had been busy moving around, comforting residents while also directing the overall command. He had not had time to pay attention to his Net Warrior terminal, which had been vibrating from time to time. Only now did he properly read the text messages his lover had sent.
There were not many piled up. Naturally. Anne must have been busy too.
「What happened? I did not expect the higher-ups to send you.」
The first message had arrived a few minutes after Gyeoul came here.
「You must have pushed yourself hard again. As your wife-to-be, I am very worried. :(」
「Two hundred thousand dollars? As your wife-to-be, I am very worried! :(」
「Watch out for snipers. I know you will take care of yourself, but as your wife-to-be, I am very, very worried!!! :(」
As he scrolled down, Gyeoul quietly laughed to himself.
「Still, thanks to you, my work got easier. Thank you, my love. :)」
「I will come to you once morning breaks. See you later.」
The morning she had promised arrived as slowly as the waiting. The unrest had entered the cleanup stage, and some refugees of Chinese descent began straightening up their businesses under police protection.
‘Even during the LA riots, some shops kept operating.’
To Gyeoul, that constancy of life seemed beautiful.
The Independent Battalion officers also handed their remaining duties fully over to the public authorities and returned to where Gyeoul was.
“Um, excuse me.”
The person carefully approaching Gyeoul with both hands spread was one of the vigilantes of Chinese descent who had pleaded the night before to let him help.
“It seems none of you have eaten yet, so if it is all right, I wondered if you might eat at my father’s restaurant. My father says he wants to serve the Lieutenant Colonel and your subordinates the best food he can.”
Gyeoul asked, “Thank you for the offer. Is your father a chef?”
“He has carried on the family business for a full forty years. I am sure his skill is the best.”
“That is what he says. What does everyone think?”
When Gyeoul looked around, the officers’ reactions split in half. Some, like Yura, were honestly pleased by the idea, while others clearly disliked it, though they could not bring themselves to say so.
Gyeoul pretended not to notice the latter and nodded.
“Then we will impose on you.”
“Please follow me, everyone. I will guide you.”
The man of Chinese descent happily took the lead.
Li Ailing approached Gyeoul’s side and warned him in a whisper.
“Will this be all right? The food has not been confirmed safe.”
Gyeoul kept his eyes forward as he walked and answered in a low voice, just as she had.
“Nothing will happen. If you cannot trust him, at least trust my judgment.”
“...”
Ailing fell silent for a moment. Since Gyeoul had chosen her despite their unpleasant past, she could not exactly say she doubted his judgment.
“In that case, could you at least let me taste it first?”
She meant she would eat first to check whether there was poison. For a moment, Gyeoul thought it was excessive loyalty, but for Li Ailing, who did not know about 「Survival Instinct」, it was a reasonable concern. If something happened to Gyeoul, her own prospects would become uncertain too.
Gyeoul declined smoothly.
“That would be too obvious. If you are that worried, let us ask Mr. Martineau. If Martineau puts a camera on them from the cooking stage onward, it will be hard for them to do anything foolish.”
On the surface, there would be nothing strange about it as reporting.
“...Understood.”
Li Ailing accepted the compromise with clear dissatisfaction.
Her worries proved needless. The meal was excellent, and it ended without incident.
After that, Anne came to find Gyeoul. Though the two of them could not spend a long time together, fulfillment was not always proportional to time. She proposed that familiar “thirty minutes” to Gyeoul, and after only a few experiences, Gyeoul was already used to it enough to accept the temptation with a smile. Both of them always desperately needed rest and each other’s warmth.
This was Philadelphia, after all. In a bustling city, there were as many places as they cared to look for.
Footnotes:
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