00014 - The Little Prince in the Ossuary
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#Intermission, Charm
The beauty of a human being is not as natural as one might think.
Failing to wash even for a single day can significantly diminish a person's Charm.
In the face of a world-ending crisis where most infrastructure is paralyzed, how well can we maintain our own beauty?
Therefore, in the 「After the Apocalypse」, Charm scores are influenced by the level of public sanitation facilities and the availability of hygiene and beauty products in a community.
Even if a person has a Charm rating of 100, without any sanitation facilities, their Charm would fall below 10.
Such limitations can be overcome through the use of consumable hygiene products, but even with sufficient facilities and products, low community stability renders it ineffective.
In dangerous situations, many wish to hide their beauty. Beauty often marks one as a target for plunder. The talent to wield beauty as a weapon is rare.
If these limitations are inconvenient, you can purchase the 「Deadly Charm」 DLC to overcome them.
This would allow you to receive system compensations that ignore realistic constraints.
With Charm maximized from the start to enhance interpersonal interactions and leadership, you could navigate the realistic virtual environment provided by 「After the Apocalypse」 with greater ease.
Ah, of course, you might be worried about the balance. But there's nothing we can do. Our company is long gone—it's all for money. So please purchase a lot of our damn DLCs. Thank you.
#Journal, page 39, Camp Roberts
Although I had been there once, there would still be sufficient supplies and food left in San Miguel.
I was hopeful for two more successful runs, assuming a haul similar to the previous one. But that's just my estimation.
After that, we would need to head further south to Paso Robles. Before the Morgellons outbreak, it was a large city with a population of 30,000, and there would likely be a considerable number of mutants.
Thus, deciding the order of deployment became an important issue. The group that goes first would receive easier tasks among the four companies.
Captain Markert took the first turn. Being the senior company commander, he was known to have close ties with the battalion commander and operations officer.
Lieutenant Capston came last. It was mentioned that he volunteered for the most challenging role. That was bad news for those of us in his group. Still, I was prepared.
Corporal Elliot, who was bedridden, shared surprising news. The decision to accept refugee volunteers had reasons beyond what was known.
Many soldiers reportedly lost their families when San Francisco and Sacramento fell. Their mental state was too unstable for deployment.
Accepting refugee volunteers was inevitable.
Indeed, for the federal army, it could be different, but the National Guard here consists of local residents.
There must be many grieving soldiers. The camp leadership would be struggling both inside and out. With even the refugees in a grim mood, trust in the soldiers would have deteriorated.
When I asked Elliot if he was okay, he replied that communication with his parents had been cut, but he wasn't concerned since they were worse than strangers to him.
It was an unexpected story from his usually bright face. I didn't know how to react.
When I candidly expressed this, he burst out laughing. He reassured me not to worry, patting my shoulder. It was quite a relief.
#High Risk, High Return (1), Paso Robles
From the broadcaster's standpoint, the volunteer training was a rather dull process. The boy considered accelerating time, but opted not to.
There was a bonus to community growth when leaders participate in training directly, which isn't gained through journal acceleration.
It's not a substantial benefit, but throwing it away early felt wasteful.
This bonus depended on one's capabilities. Gyeo-ul could expect a higher-than-normal improvement for skills like shooting or close combat.
Lieutenant Capston wore a look of worry. Half of the people Gyeo-ul brought could not be relied upon for combat power.
Beyond age or gender, their malnutrition and unsanitary conditions were severe. It was pitiful.
Even those he brought looked uneasy. Convincing the lieutenant required a considerable amount of time.
Due to the limited number of vehicles in the camp, only one supply unit could be dispatched at a time.
Although more vehicles remained in the camp than those going out, there was no choice but to hold back some for emergencies.
Lieutenant Capston and Charlie Company returned four days after the mission's start.
The distance from Camp Roberts through San Miguel to Paso Robles was merely 17 kilometers when driving on the road.
However, numerous obstacles were scattered on the route. Stopped vehicles and abandoned roadblocks had to be cleared. The journey took 3 hours and 40 minutes.
It was only possible because there were few mutants on the road. Contrary to expectations, aerial reconnaissance reported the path was surprisingly clear.
"There it is, Paso Robles."
Private Guilherme pointed south, already drenched in sweat. After clearing the overturned trailer, the city's silhouette was visible nearby.
"Board! Board!"
At the call, the refugee volunteers climbed onto the truck. After a headcount, the convoy set off again.
We continued south on Highway 101, then turned off to the right onto a side road, leading straight to the destination.
With a population of 30,000, it was impossible to search the entire city at once. The area north of 24th Street—less than 1/20th of the total area—was Charlie Company's operational zone.
The convoy stopped at the entrance to 24th Street. On both sides of the road, we could see four gas station signs: Shell, chevron, bP, and Arco from south to north. Chevron and BP had the most advantageous locations. Like in San Miguel, there were restaurants and motels next to the gas stations.
The configuration was the same as before, with two guards for every ten refugee volunteers.
Joining in place of the injured Corporal Elliot was Sergeant Ratchman, who was Black. It was unlikely he was a racist.
In the U. S. military, a sergeant corresponds to a non-commissioned officer level and probably had plenty of experience.
He seemed like a good person, aside from excessive use of "Fuck" in his speech.
So far, among Lieutenant Capston's men, there were few serious personality issues. Perhaps the superiors being virtuous made the subordinates virtuous too.
There was a McRonald's right above the gas stations. Being the most plausible restaurant nearby, the refugee volunteers clamored to go there.
They only cared about fulfilling their allocation. Lieutenant Capston decisively cut them off.
"The first target is the processed meat store, located one kilometer north along this road. It used to handle large quantities of sausage and canned ham, and securing just this one place could fulfill the entire allocation. It was decided beforehand, and everyone completed the rehearsal drill, didn't they? It would be difficult to change things now."
Yet the complaints did not cease. The soldiers overseeing them wore agonized expressions.
On the other hand, those Gyeo-ul brought were silent. No one stepped up because the leader remained quiet.
Thanks to the wait and the advice given during recruitment, everyone was watching the boy's cues.
Moving and clearing the vehicles that remained on the road was laborious. Many were destroyed; their wheels would not turn.
Furthermore, with gas masks on, breathing was a chore, and exertion was even more demanding. In reality, wearing a gas mask imposed a slight debuff on performance.
Fortunately, the surroundings were quiet, and we encountered only three mutant infections on our way to the processed meat store. It wasn't like Korea, with densely packed buildings. We could detect and eliminate them early. The threat they posed was insignificant compared to the excessive firepower that shredded their bodies.
Even minor dangers couldn't be ignored, so clearing paths cautiously took considerable time.
Ironically, there were few mutants at the destination. Both the military and volunteers were overjoyed at the sight of boxes filled with canned goods on the truck.
At this rate, everyone thought the mission could be completed without major issues. But suddenly, the unexpected happened.
The lead vehicle, the Humvee, stopped abruptly, causing the entire convoy to halt. It wasn't a mechanical failure. It was a more serious issue.
"Captain. We're picking up a distress signal on civilian radio channel 9."
A soldier in the vehicle called out to Capston. Civilian radios struggle to communicate just a few hundred meters away, but the vehicle-mounted radio (RT-1523F) could contact Camp Roberts from Paso Robles.
Provided there were no terrain obstacles or jamming, that is.
Channel 9 is the emergency communication frequency, operating on the 91.5 MHz band.
It was, after all, the same channel used in the action movie Die Hard when the protagonist called the fire station.
All activity ceased immediately, and everyone took positions for all-around defense. Lieutenant Capston took the radio himself.
The refugee volunteers stole glances, casting anxious and disgruntled looks. Obviously, they were worried about a rescue mission.
The communication seemed spotty. Lieutenant Capston tapped his fist against the windshield in frustration, his face flushed.
After taking a moment to collect himself, he exited the vehicle and called everyone together.
Those considered as leaders from the volunteer group, company staff, and senior soldiers gathered in one place.
He unfolded a map on the hood and explained the details; the typically rigid lieutenant was genuinely anxious.
"Here, at this point, Daniel Lewis Middle School, we're picking up a transmission indicating teachers and students are trapped there. We can't ascertain the numbers or situation precisely, but having received this SOS, we can't disregard it. Before deciding on our course of action, I'll take questions or suggestions."
Sergeant Ratchman raised his hand. Granted permission by the captain, he began to speak.
"Is communication absolutely impossible?"
"Regrettably, yes. With our radio's output, we should be able to reach them no problem...but they can't seem to hear us. I suspect they're preserving battery life by turning it on and off periodically."
The vehicle-mounted radio uses a long antenna and has a maximum output of 50 watts, giving it a wide reception range.
In contrast, civilian radios have short antennas, narrow channels, with output usually ranging from 0.5 to 3 watts. With low batteries, even receiving signals is difficult.
Next, Sergeant Dave Cyris raised another question.
"Frankly, the location is unfavorable. Deep inside the eastern part of the city core. With the current manpower, not only is it impossible to clear the roads that far, the risk is too high. Moreover, we don't even know how many are to be rescued. Rash decisions could lead to the opposite of mission fulfillment, risking our total annihilation. I believe it's best to complete the current mission, return, and then come back after receiving reinforcements."
"Oh screw you, Cyris."
The sudden vulgarity came from Master Sergeant Pierce.
"Think about it. Kids are probably trembling in there with no one having seen them yet. Suggesting we return first? Nonsense! Is there any guarantee they'll survive tonight? We should at the very least send in scouts to assess the situation. If there're too many and we can't rescue them, then, fuck, leave those scouts in till reinforcements can assist, protect them!"
"Sergeant, unfortunately...if we even had half a company, I wouldn't say this. Including drivers, we barely have a single platoon, and all the rest are apathetic refugee volunteers. There's no guarantee if any would even be willing to take on this dangerous task. According to the reconnaissance photos provided beforehand, several mutants were wandering through the city center. Plus, it's almost sunset. Doesn't the Sergeant know that the mutants become more active after sunset?"
Sergeant Pierce repeated his vulgarity a few more times, but it wasn't aimed at anyone specifically.
At that moment, Gyeo-ul hesitated. If it weren't for the promise made to the group to bring everyone back safely, he would've volunteered.
Unexpected missions offered great rewards.
As views stalled, Lieutenant Capston sought communication with headquarters.
Given the road had been cleared up to the city's entrance from camp, reinforcements could arrive within 30 minutes if sent.
Supplementary troops from other companies on standby, or air support like helicopters, would be preferable.
However, Camp Roberts gave a negative response. The camp atmosphere was uneasy, making reinforcement deployment impossible.
In view of government containment directives for infected areas, airlift was also out of the question.
Worse, they wouldn't risk incurring casualties, ordering everyone back to base. The lieutenant protested.
It was futile. The battalion's operations officer was resolutely firm beyond the radio.
Despite a prolonged argument, sunset was nearing with no time to waste. Captain Capston resignedly terminated communication.
"Figured as much."
Gyeo-ul thought it would be like this. A special mission arising from the control AI's situation analysis wouldn't naturally resolve itself.
Sergeant Pierce complained.
"Good heavens, Sir. Don't tell me you're seriously thinking of withdrawing?"
"Sergeant, though your sentiments are noted, orders are...."
"They say those damned Nazi bastards just followed orders too."
Faced by the senior sergeant's surly retort, Lieutenant Capston gestured calmly at the refugee volunteers.
"Orders are orders, but these folks only volunteered for a supply mission. Also, they're civilians. Imposing additional risks for other purposes could be contractually inappropriate."
"And so?"
"This is an emergency. Faced with humanity's extinction crisis, individual soldiers and officers should not make moral judgments. Unless the government collapsed, the command chain stands. Sergeant, I may have to consider this insubordination if you keep on."
Though the sergeant wore an agitated expression, the lieutenant remained unyielding.
Naturally, the sergeant deserved respect due to his long service, but the command was ultimately the company commander's.
Moreover, although receiving little in terms of respect given the conditions, as the lieutenant noted, the refugees were fundamentally civilians who the military had a duty to protect.
The lieutenant's stance was that they couldn't be forced into hazardous missions.
In the boy's view, this was something beyond sheer stubbornness. The current camp faced external activity challenges without the aid of refugee volunteers.
If casualties occurred from the lieutenant acting unilaterally, what could be expected from the next mission without enough new volunteers?
Only mutual ruin would remain. As the volunteers diminished, so would the material supplies provided, worsening refugee conditions further.
The worse the condition, the higher the chance of refugees thinking of radical actions, leading to threats against the military.
No matter how well-armed, serious crises were inevitable if hundreds of refugees were determined.
Hadn't it been noted that reinforcements couldn't be deployed due to the camp atmosphere?
Further deteriorating the situation would be problematic. The lieutenant's judgment was therefore rational.
"Damn! Alright. Did the higher-ups say they wouldn't risk casualties? Does that mean it's fine if there are volunteers among the refugees?"
Raising both hands in a gesture of defeat, the visibly intimidating, muscular Black sergeant resorted to anger.
For Eastern-sized individuals, it was intimidating enough. Just seeing him made people cower.
The answer was apparent. Avoiding eye contact was admission. Angrily, the sergeant shouted in frustration.
"Damn it! Seriously? Are all Asians not only small in build but in bravery too? Can't there be someone prepared to risk their life for justice?"
"That's racial discrimination. Besides, don't make us the villains. Just like Cyris stated, it's unavoidable."
Whining protests emerged.
Like a floodgate opening, one comment prompted more. Cyris, the warranting excuse, felt uneasy but couldn't silence the words that had already surfaced.
"I have a five-year-old son waiting. I know the situation, but I can't take the risk."
"It's unreasonable to treat us like you soldiers after only a few days of training."
"Frankly, you see us as expendable shields, don't you? If a soldier doesn't come back, there's no compensation. In some cases, there might even be punishment. It implies military lives are worth more than ours, indirectly telling us to die riskily instead. We do this for self-preservation, and that's acceptable. But not beyond that."
Other aspects aside, the last comment hit heavily. It bore the weight of truth. Finally, the necessary thinking time for Gyeo-ul's decision was upon him.
"I'll go."
"What?"
Sergeant Pierce furrowed his brows, turning to observe. Not out of displeasure, but out of curiosity. Gyeo-ul quickly followed up.
"Instead, let the others I brought return if they don't wish to stay. I promised to ensure their safety."
"You'd go even if no one else follows?"
"Yes."
"Ha, I heard you're something of a man, kiddo."
Sergeant Pierce chuckled.
Though only half his face was covered by the gas mask, it was clear from his eyes alone. Everything around them went quiet.
For the refugees, it was a deflating situation. Here they were, each prioritizing self-preservation, when suddenly this child stepped forward alone, diminishing their pride.
Not just their individual pride, but also the pride of their organization. Glares followed as a result.
Various warnings about decreased affection appeared haphazardly. Among them, scattered messages indicated an increase—mostly from the military.
One of them, company Commander Robert Capston, possessed an air of guilt and concerned demeanor.
"Your courage is commendable, but I can't allow it. It's too risky."
"We can't just leave younger students stranded."
"Hmm... It'd be best first to assess the willingness of the other refugee members."
Yet appealing to others was futile. Many already belonged to groups openly antagonistic toward the boy and merely hesitating to follow wasn't due to that.
It was out of disregard for their representatives. Returning could be difficult later.
The ones who followed the boy showed fearful expressions. No one readily stepped up. If it remained this way, he might genuinely go it alone.
Those were his thoughts when suddenly someone, seemingly struggling with an internal battle, slowly raised a hand.
"I don't know if I can add anything, but I can't just let the boss go alone."
"... Boss?"
Gyeo-ul tilted his head. The woman nodded.
"Yes, our boss. Small but mighty."
Her formal speech felt awkward. As she said, expecting combat prowess from her was likely excessive. Her limbs were slender.
Unkempt, unsure if beautiful or not, but before becoming gaunt, one might consider her graceful and statuesque.
A second, then third hand rose in succession. Fortunately, men this time. A balding older man, small in stature, and a reasonably built young man followed.
"I gotta to earn my keep."
"True. Especially since I got paid upfront."
"Upfront payment" alluded to the ration tickets Gyeo-ul had previously given them as a greeting gift in exchange for patient waiting, but it was probably more than that.
These individuals belonged to the quiet minority who didn't join in the cheers for the boy. It was clear there was confidence in replacing him when the opportunity arose.
Such reads were simple. He had been keen on keeping sense of others' moods often due to his father.
Thus relieved, Lieutenant Capston harbored joy mixed with worry. The presence of such people was gratifying.
The worry concerned sending them on what might merely serve as a superficial gesture. Torn between duty and conscience, he washed his face and spoke slowly.
"My apologies. Were it not for orders..."
"Don't dwell on it."
The boy's tender, soothing words earned him a bit of sympathy. He then requested ample ammunition, provisions, emergency supplies, and a radio.
"Ammo is essential given potential events, as is food and emergency supplies for the likelihood that the trapped students have been starving long or that there are injuries among them. Communications are also challenging without means of contact."
"Such things must of course be provided."
A matter far from certainty. Sending refugees outside the camp's control came with risks.
The camp leadership could find fault. Nevertheless, it was the burden the lieutenant chose to bear.
Ultimately, they packed two duffel bags filled with canned goods, antibiotics, bandages, and ammunition.
They borrowed a backpack-style radio (AN/PRC-119). Though complex, there was only a need to operate on one preset channel.
Learning to power it on and input frequencies was sufficient. The communications operator trained him one-on-one.
After mastering the radio usage, Gyeo-ul saluted. Though lacking formal rank, being treated as a volunteer soldier meant such a gesture was fitting.
"See you tomorrow. Time is pressing as we must arrive before sunset."
"I'm sorry for entrusting you with this dangerous task. Best of luck to you. May the blessings of God be with you."
Following the commander, the military personnel who had favorable impressions of the boy offered short farewells. Private Guilherme even gave him a sudden hug.
"Stay safe. We'll be there to rescue you soon."
"Take care, Guilherme. Don't rush and end up like Elliot."
"Look at this kid, talking like that, huh?"
Seeming mid-sentence, the private lifted his gun and fired just above the boy's head. Despite the silencer, the blast near the crown was still loud. Yet there was no surprise.
The instinctive 「Survival Sense」 heightened from training warned him of the figure approaching from behind.
More accurately, it manifested as a feeling with holographic markers indicating the direction and approximate range with an allowance.
Once he turned, scattered on the faded road were several corpses, their skin savaged by immune rejection, looking distinctly visible from afar.
They had been infected mutants.
"Let's go," came the boy's composed remark. Those three volunteers who chose to follow seemed impressed. A slight adjustment upward in their regard for him.
With sunlight waning in the late afternoon, four shadows stretched across the asphalt.
Clacky's Corner:
The mood seemed lighter. Of course there's still the lurking danger, but overall it's not as bleak as the start.