“Does this make any sense? I’m asking whether it’s realistically possible.”
“I’m sorry.”
President Melchor scolded his chief secretary irritably after hearing the report.
The chief secretary could offer no excuse and merely kept his head bowed.
“I’m not asking you to apologize. I’m asking you to tell me something I can understand. One frigate and three patrol ships were deployed. To protect the four landing ships. Correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But now we can’t contact any of those ships?”
“We confirmed that an engagement occurred after they arrived off the coast of Zamboanga.”
“So you’re saying that contact was lost after the engagement off Zamboanga—which means we lost?”
“That hasn’t been confirmed. It could be a mechanical failure or a communications problem.”
“Did you try calling them on their cell phones?”
“……”
“They’re not answering?”
“T-that’s correct.”
Naturally.
Every member of the Philippine forces who had taken part in the operation had jumped into the sea,
and to survive, they had to strip off their clothes and climb aboard the ship.
They had no time to worry about their cell phones.
The phones had sunk beneath the waters off Zamboanga.
Naturally, no one could contact them.
“And despite that, you answered that we hadn’t lost?”
“I’m s-sorry. We haven’t accurately assessed the situation yet, so I wanted to make sure of the facts before reporting—”
“Haah~ Get out. You’re fired as of today. Pack your things and leave immediately. On your way out, tell the Secretary of National Defense and the Chief of Staff to come in.”
“Yes… Understood.”
The chief secretary left with his head hanging low.
.
.
.
A short while later, the Secretary of National Defense and the Chief of Staff, who had been waiting, entered.
They greeted him, but Melchor remained seated on the sofa without even looking at them.
“Forget that. Give me a report on the current situation.”
“Information from Mindanao has always been scarce. Especially after the Damaya rebels occupied Mindanao, information control became even more—”
“Who said I wanted to know what’s happening in Mindanao? I’m asking what happened to the ships we sent. Stop being so damn frustrating and tell me quickly.”
“Ahem… We still…”
“You’re not about to tell me the stupid story that we still haven’t obtained any information, are you?”
“I’m sorry.”
Perhaps because he was angry, President Melchor stood up and picked up a golf club from the corner of the office.
Then he began smashing everything on his desk.
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
The monitor shattered, and the telephone went flying.
The Secretary of National Defense and the Chief of Staff weren’t even being struck, but they flinched every time the golf club swung.
After swinging the club for a long while, Melchor spoke while panting heavily.
“Huff. Huff. I just don’t understand. How can one frigate and three patrol ships be taken out so stupidly in the middle of the sea? Do the rebels even have weapons capable of attacking warships? They’re using AK-47s, aren’t they? How can warships be defeated by men like that?”
“We’re doing everything we can to determine the situation—”
“That’s why I put you in those positions—to assess the situation and issue orders!!!! If you’re just going to sit there blankly, receive whatever reports are brought to you, and recite them, then what the hell do I need you for?”
“I’m sorry.”
At that moment, the Chief of Staff, who had also been getting berated, cautiously spoke up.
“Mr. President, according to the information I’ve obtained, an engagement took place off the coast of Zamboanga, and all the vessels, including the frigate, have been rendered combat-ineffective.”
“What? Is that true? Combat-ineffective?”
To be honest, the Chief of Staff had not wanted to bring this up.
It was not something the military had officially confirmed; he had learned of it while speaking with an acquaintance on the phone.
The information might not even be accurate, and it was not suitable for an official report, so he had intended to remain silent.
But if things continued like this, he felt that he might lose his position as Chief of Staff.
Only moments ago, he had watched the chief secretary pack his things and leave.
To preserve his position, he needed to become someone who could at least obtain information.
But the Secretary of National Defense glared at him.
His look clearly asked why he was bringing that up now.
The Secretary of National Defense knew about it as well, but had not reported it because it was unconfirmed.
Yet in an instant, the Chief of Staff had become competent, while the Secretary of National Defense had become incompetent.
Regardless of their silent contest, President Melchor’s expression grew grave at the answer.
The word ‘combat-ineffective’ dominated his mind.
It felt as though the word was saying that the Philippines itself would soon become uncontrollable.
He found that deeply unsettling.
There were two choices available to Melchor now.
He could cancel the operation and return to how things had been.
Or he could suppress the rebellion by launching an even larger attack.
He did not deliberate for long.
At times like this, they had to push forward with sheer momentum.
“First, assess the situation and prepare the fighter jets for deployment.”
“F-fighter jets, sir?”
The Secretary of National Defense, startled by the mention of fighter jets, asked the president again.
Melchor glared at him.
“I don’t think you’re suited to that position. Chief of Staff, you’re the Secretary of National Defense as of today.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best. I’ll prepare the fighter jets immediately.”
*******
Laughter echoed through the warehouse in Zamboanga.
The voices of countless people inside rang out as they laughed and chatted.
After taking off their military uniforms and changing into tracksuits, it was difficult to tell whether they were soldiers or unemployed men.
They looked relaxed, as if they had escaped, at least a little, from whatever had been weighing them down.
For a brief while, they were free from rank, orders, and duty.
Without cell phones, they watched television during the day or gathered in small groups to play basketball.
Sometimes they played badminton, or gathered around for card games.
They had plenty of leisure.
I decided to do something for them as well.
I didn’t know how long the Philippine soldiers would be staying here, but I decided to do my best for them anyway.
I had a thousand sleeping bags flown in, and since it was pitiful to see them eating while sitting on the floor, I brought in dining tables.
We laid tarps over the floor to keep out the dampness and separated the sleeping area from the activity area.
At first, the Philippine soldiers had been awkward and hesitant, but now, whenever we brought something in, they joined in on their own.
They divided up the work among themselves.
Before, they had merely watched blankly no matter what we did. Now they took the initiative.
Especially when we installed the toilets.
The number of people had suddenly increased, so we needed temporary toilets. When we brought them in, the soldiers installed them by themselves.
When we brought meals, they distributed the food and even washed the dishes afterward.
It was a war that wasn’t quite a war, but a small peace existed within it.
No one there wanted to fight.
No one wanted to fire a gun with their life on the line.
We neither restrained nor imprisoned the Philippine soldiers.
The doors stood wide open, yet not a single person ran away.
I didn’t know why.
Perhaps security in Zamboanga was poor,
perhaps they were uneasy about leaving the group that was the military,
or perhaps they simply liked living in the warehouse.
I didn’t know the reason, but every rebel and Philippine soldier living in the warehouse was happy.
They looked relaxed, as if their tension had finally faded, and seemed at peace.
*****
That psychopath bastard is glaring at me again.
Why does that bastard keep glaring at me?
I’m thinking that I should say something, but Shin Jung-gi speaks first.
Why is his tone so gentle and soft, though?
He sounds like he’s talking to his girlfriend.
“Boss, has the thing I asked for last time arrived?”
“Huh? It’s probably still being delivered. Jason said he’d bring it over.”
“Really?”
“Why? Is it urgent?”
“Yes. According to my calculations, there’s a high probability that a bombing will take place within the next three days.”
“Bombing? No way, right?”
“What do you mean, ‘no way’?”
So much for gentle and soft.
The moment the conversation turns to war, he goes off the rails.
“It is a perfectly plausible scenario. Melchor’s naval operation has failed. Do you think he’ll use ships again? Absolutely not. He doesn’t have any usable ships left, either. The only method available now is to deploy a small elite force, but that is guaranteed to fail. No matter how many special forces he sends, they will fail. The rebels have too many men to be dealt with by a small elite unit. The only way to make it work is to bomb the area first and then send in the special forces.”
It was a logical analysis, just as one would expect from a psychopath.
Even so, I couldn’t believe what Shin Jung-gi was saying.
No, I didn’t want to believe it.
Melchor was certainly a man blinded by greed.
Even so, I had no intention of criticizing him for sending troops to suppress the rebels.
It was an act of governance by a president.
He was eliminating the rebels, an existence that harmed society.
No one could fault him for that.
I had also gone around Congo beating down rebels.
Though now I was buying meals for them.
I could understand sending troops by ship.
The ship itself was not important.
It was merely a means of transporting the troops.
Once the troops disembarked, they would carry out an operation to suppress the rebels.
Of course, civilians might be injured during the operation, but they would conduct it while trying to minimize civilian casualties.
But fighter jets were different.
No matter how much they bombed a rebel area, there was a very high chance that innocent civilians would be injured.
They would simply be pounding a specific area indiscriminately.
The moment the launch button was pressed, no one could predict what kind of damage would result.
With his approval rating already in such poor shape, would he really attempt something so reckless?
But Shin Jung-gi said it was entirely possible, while I could only hope it wasn’t.
“And naturally, it would be best if there were no attack. Even so, I think we should prepare for one.”
“Yeah. All right. I’ll tell Jason to hurry.”
Fortunately, the cargo arrived safely at the rebel base that evening.
When the trailer doors opened, a look of madness appeared in Shin Jung-gi’s eyes.
This bastard scares me.
******
Cebu
Mactan–Benito Ebuen Air Base.
Two fighter jets that had flown in from Basa Air Base in Laguna gently touched down on the runway, its guide lights illuminated.
Their mission was to strike the rebel base.
It would have been ideal to fly directly from Basa Air Base to Zamboanga in one go, but the fighters did not have enough fuel.
They needed to refuel once along the way.
That was why they had to stop at Mactan–Benito Ebuen Air Base to refuel.
While the aircraft were being refueled, the pilots each smoked a cigarette behind the base.
The pilots seemed deeply dissatisfied with the operation.
Even while preparing to carry it out, their faces were filled with worry.
“Isn’t bombing a bit much? It’s not even a war.”
“I know. If it were a war, it might feel honorable, but they’re telling us to go bomb our own people. Even if they are rebels, it seems too extreme.”
“It’s way too extreme. And it’s not even suppressive fire—they’re ordering us to drop MK-82s, 500-pound bombs.”
“I still can’t believe it.”
“They even loaded all six.”
“Me too.”
The MK-82 was one of the most widely used bombs in the world.
When it exploded, it created a tremendous blast, sending shrapnel flying hundreds of meters.
It was a terrifying weapon, powerful enough to inflict fatal injuries within roughly fifty meters and serious to minor injuries out to two hundred meters.
“Do you think it’ll be all right?”
“It won’t. It’s a surprise attack, and it’s happening at dawn.”
“How many people will die?”
“I can’t even guess. We have absolutely no information.”
The pilot drew deeply on his cigarette, as if the burden were too much.
He didn’t want to do this.
“What if we aim a little to the side?”
“Good idea. Then we’re giving up our promotions, right?”
“Promotions? We’d be dishonorably discharged.”
“Haaah… Should we just do that? Getting discharged seems better than dropping the bombs.”
“Fuck. Who came up with this insane operation?”
“I heard the order came down to the Chief of Staff, but since he issued it after meeting with the president, shouldn’t we regard it as the president’s order?”
“Crazy bastard.”
They cursed at the empty, dark air base, but nothing changed.
The fact that they had to sortie remained unchanged.
.
.
.
“I understand they’ve departed.”
News came in that the fighter jets had taken off from Cebu’s Mactan Airport.
The territory Sandro had expanded came in handy at times like this.
Mactan–Benito Ebuen Air Base shared Cebu International Airport.
Sandro had planted several informants at Cebu International Airport.
They informed him that the fighter jets headed for Zamboanga had taken off.
We had prepared as well.
We hoped Sin Jung-gi’s prediction would be wrong, but we couldn’t simply sit around hoping it was.
First, we evacuated the base.
We cleared out the entire base so that no one would be hurt even if it was bombed.
We left the lights on, though, to make it easier to bomb.
So it would be clearly visible.
We even left some music playing.
Something lively.
The distance from Cebu to Zamboanga was 360 kilometers.
Forty minutes at the fastest.
Even at the slowest, they would arrive within fifty minutes.
We finished our preparations as well.
.
.
.
“Pag-asa, this is Bagwis. Ten minutes until we enter the target area.”
“Bagwis. Position confirmed. Maintain status.”
An aircraft bearing the codename Bagwis—Tagalog for “wing”—was flying toward Mindanao Island.
“Five minutes until we enter the target area.”
“Three minutes until we enter the target area.”
“Two minutes until we enter the target area.”
Though it was dawn, the weather was good, and the area believed to be the enemy’s base was brightly lit.
“Pag-asa, Pag-asa. Requesting authorization to drop bombs.”
The pilot requested authorization from headquarters to drop the bombs.
“Bagwis, authorization granted to drop bombs. I repeat, authorization granted to drop bombs.”
“Copy.”
The pilot received authorization to drop the bombs.
All that remained was to fly a little farther and press the launch button. Then this operation would be over.
But he couldn’t bring himself to press it.
Nor did he have the courage to fire somewhere else and be dishonorably discharged.
That was when it happened.
The radar flashed for an instant.
Just as he wondered what it was—
A colossal curtain unfolded before his eyes.
It looked like a gigantic wave was surging toward him.
There was no way something like that could be floating in the sky.
Looking more closely, he saw that it was a swarm of drones.
Tens of thousands of drones had gathered together to create an enormous obstacle.
The drones were blocking the fighter jet’s path.
“Evasive maneuver!”
He hurriedly tried to change the fighter’s course, but the drones had already surrounded it.
Clack! Clack! Clack!
He could hear the drones striking the fighter.
And then—
With a thud and a rattling, drrrrrrrr, the engine caught fire.
A drone must have gotten into the engine.
They were small drones, but once one entered the engine, there was nothing that could be done.
He checked the other aircraft, only to find the same thing happening to it.
The aircraft had caught fire.
There was nothing they could do in this situation.
The aircraft would not respond.
It was out of control.
But he couldn’t simply crash along with the plane.
There was no other choice.
The pilot seized the fighter’s emergency ejection lever and pulled it hard.
The canopy broke away, and the seat began to rise together with him.
The operation had certainly failed.
But the pilot was smiling.
.
.
.
On a hill on the opposite side of the rebel base.
We were preparing a drone show in a spot well concealed by trees.
When Wei Zhonglin had said he would provide us with weapons last time, Sin Jung-gi had emphasized several times that we should receive them by drone.
He said it would be even better if they were already programmed, like a drone show.
When we mentioned it to Wei Zhonglin, he readily sent them.
Two sets, at that.
Each set contained more than ten thousand drones.
They had even been perfectly programmed.
All we had to do was test them and charge them.
Once we designated the location and clicked on the pattern we wanted, the tens of thousands of programmed drones formed a gigantic formation.
The drones moved precisely along their assigned trajectories, creating the pattern.
We heard that the fighter jets had departed from Mactan, and we waited.
We waited for the enemy to approach.
We had waited until the very last moment, worried that they might detect us in advance with their radar and evade us.
Then, the instant they entered effective range, all the drones took flight at once.
They rose into the air, creating a gigantic wave, a wall, a fence that belonged only to us.
The fighter jet, flying in at high speed, failed to evade them in time and was sucked into the swamp of drones.
Only the two pilots inside managed to survive the drone swamp.
Seeing this, Sin Jung-gi quietly spoke to his subordinates.
“What are you doing? Hurry up and go retrieve them.”