Long-term salvation

Rod ate the small dessert brought by Marian, took a sip of coconut milk tea, and said to Little Red Riding Hood:

"Turn it on, let's get started."

Electricity is transmitted through the cables, and the signal across half the globe is transmitted here, suddenly bringing the two distant souls closer.

Jonathan Irons's face appeared on the screen. He was in a bright conference room, wearing a neat suit and a serious expression.

Rod, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, sat on the sofa. He hadn't finished the dessert that Nikki fed him when the wolf girl on his right handed him tea. The other girls looked at him with curiosity.

"...You seem to be living comfortably, Chairman Rhodes."

Irons took a few deep breaths, suppressing the urge to fly over and punch Xiao Deng right away. He coughed lightly and continued:

"I've seen the itinerary you submitted to the Council. Besides Japan, are you planning to visit Southeast Asia? I remember that the Army Without Borders has a large base near Roanapur (from Black Lagoon) in Thailand."

"Yes, I do plan to do that."

Rhodes shrugged and unfolded the map in front of him. A new route was marked on it with red pencil. After staring at it for a few seconds, Rhodes reached out and drew another new route from the South China Sea to the east coast of Africa.

After throwing the pencil on the table, Rhodes leaned back on the sofa cushion and said:

"You want me to go to Africa to help you. Even with the help of Miya, Rapunzel, and D, you still need me."

"Based on reality and maximizing benefits," Irons raised his hands and placed them on his chest, touching his fingers. He nodded slightly, "Yes, I need your help - I need the savior of mankind to stand by me and provide me with assistance."

Hearing these sincere words, Rhode felt relieved, but he remained silent for a few seconds before slowly speaking:

"I disagree with your plan to use the Manticore virus to eliminate unqualified humans..."

"That's enough, you little brat! I've said this many times!"

"Wulusai! I will always keep an eye on you, always, always, always—"

Irons, whose face was red with anger at Rhode's rogue behavior, took a breath, took a sip from the water cup beside him, and said angrily:

"Atlas Corporation is about to launch a cleanup operation in East Africa, and the Army Without Borders will also be involved. If you, the Supreme Commander, don't come here, I will skin you alive!"

"No... Theoretically, you have to crucify me," Rhodes complained, but seeing Irons's expression on the screen, he quickly raised his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay, I'll leave right away. Forget about Japan. I can wait until I finish my work in Africa and come back to see it. As for Thailand/Southeast Asia, you'd better find someone suitable to take a look. Actually, I'm thinking of asking Yang to take a look as well."

That being said, Rhode still didn't really want to send the already busy Nikki over, but he didn't have anyone suitable right now. Especially in that chaotic place, he needed someone with a sharp mind, nimble tactics, and the ability to attack humans without hesitation... at least not those girls at home who had heads full of muscle.

There are quite a few otherworldly incidents in Southeast Asia, but fortunately, the mediums and religious figures there can be of some use. It seems that it would be best if a [Mobile Task Force] or some "angel" were stationed there permanently.

After hearing Rhode's words, Ains did not fall into deep thought, but quickly said:

"I have a candidate."

"Ok?"

Rhode raised his eyebrows. He really didn't expect that Ains had already thought about this. This was very rare.

After Rhodes became the chairman of the Cogito Foundation, Irons rarely intervened in the development of the foundation and the Army Without Borders, instead focusing on the internal affairs of Atlas Corporation. He promoted Rhodes to the position of "savior" and "leader," and whether through propaganda, hints, or direct statements to his confidants, he made it clear that "Rhodes would become the unshakable owner of Atlas Corporation" would become the consensus of every Atlas Corporation employee.

As for what happens after it's completed... Because of this, Rhode wasn't so much worried about Ains finding the Scorpion Tailed Lion virus and wiping out all of humanity, but rather worried about him carrying a nuclear bomb and exploding with the Organization.

"Actually, it was the recommendation of Director Argos Panoptos. He wants to send his own grandson to some dangerous areas as a test," said Irons. He reached out to straighten his collar. The heat from the red fever just now had not subsided yet. "In other words, he is the direct heir of the Argos Panoptos family—what are you looking at? The old director's son has been doing archaeological work in South America all year round, managing the family business there, and he is living a good life!"

"Will this person agree...really?! Never mind, it's not my place to meddle in their family affairs," Rhodes waved his hand, saying no more. But then he frowned again and asked, "Do you need me to inform Balalaika and the others?"

“It’s obviously needed, but it doesn’t have to be too much help.”

Irons snorted, obviously recalling some bad memories - tropical jungles, guerrillas, ambushes and the like. After throwing away those meaningless things, he continued:

"A maid named 'Robert', whose real name is Rosalita Chesneros (from 'Black Lagoon'), will go with her and take good care of her young master."

"What's the departure time?"

"Undecided."

Irons's face showed some helplessness. It was obvious that his old friend's request was somewhat troublesome. In order to allow his children to take on important responsibilities in the future, the old man made this decision after a lot of psychological struggle.

"You can go and see it anytime you have time, but you must come to Africa right now and bring the Alicorn!"

"Okay, okay, yes, yes, okay, okay."

After giving a perfunctory reply, Rhode looked up at Irons on the screen, stretched his body, and asked:

"Is that all?"

"Yes, I'll be ready to begin combat once you're in place. This is also to prevent possible otherworldly incidents. I was startled by what happened at the Antarctic base," Irons said, his expression of helplessness and annoyance deepening. He glared at Rhode and continued, "Somalia and the East African region are both very troublesome. Many forces are involved there, and there's also the United States Army stationed there under the guise of peacekeeping forces... They're also a nuisance."

"I see. I'll be leaving in two days then—Noah?"

The silver-haired girl whose name was called walked in quickly from outside. She stuffed a palm-sized note into Rhodes' hand with an anxious look on her face.

After reading it carefully, Rhodes closed the note and said to Irons:

"I will depart tonight. The Alicorn will try to reach the Indian Ocean within ten days to launch an interception operation."

"...the fleet of the Hecmedia Group?"

"Yes," Rhodes nodded slightly. "There are Umbrella ships mixed in there, possibly carrying experimental subjects and human organs collected from all over Africa. The information may not be accurate, but I will confirm it on the way."

"Then... just do what you think is right. Also, remember to come quickly. I need your help."

Irons said this and closed the satellite video call, leaving Rhodes facing the empty white screen.

Chapter 487: Underwater Cat and Mouse Game (3.5K)

Western Pacific.

The sunlight penetrates vertically into the undulating wave valleys on the sea surface, reflecting silver-like spots of light, extending all the way to the horizon where it connects with the cumulus clouds. But in the world beneath the sea, the light of the stars solidifies into indigo amber, filling every gap and squeezing every existence that dives deep there with the soft yet strong sea water.

So it was with the Pacific, so it was with the Atlantic, so it was with the world's oceans—the vast waves that the Queen had long since lost control of found a new master:

The Los Angeles-class improved nuclear attack submarine "Dallas" (688-Improved, the ship's name and crew names come from the novel "The Hunt for Red October") was sailing calmly under the sea, and the spherical array sonar at the bow was faithfully performing its duties.

This new United States nuclear submarine, which was launched and commissioned in 1989, was conducting routine patrols, but to be honest, there was nothing to patrol.

Sonarman Second Class Ronald Jones yawned with his eyes closed. He sat expressionlessly at his seat, listening to the sounds in his headphones. This young man, who had dropped out of school, was extremely talented at sound detection, and could easily identify flaws in instruments, mistakes in performance, and…undersea noise.

Only now, the voice of Captain Thompson, the head of the sonar department, was louder than the noise on the seabed:

"Jones, did you hear anything?"

"...If you can say the orcas are cursing at each other, then I heard it," the young sonar operator half-removed his headset, wiped his face with his hand, and then opened his eyes, saying with a hint of boredom, "There's been nothing for a while. Those Soviets... Oh, sorry, sir, I mean the Russian Federation hasn't been driving their submarines out anymore."

"Of course, they're busy stripping the sound-absorbing tiles off submarines and selling them for money."

Captain Thompson laughed wickedly, and the joke immediately amused the other people in the sonar department, and the whole cabin suddenly became cheerful.

But just as the sailors were discussing what they would do after going ashore, the nuclear submarine commander, Lieutenant Commander Bart Mancuso, walked in. He did not come in directly, but first leaned on the hatch, glanced at the sailors whose smiles quickly disappeared, and then walked in and said:

"Pay attention to navigation safety guidelines. Your actions just now are enough to get you sent back to shore for confinement. And... after I get ashore, I'll go to the bar next to the base and order a fresh steak and get drunk!"

The sailors smiled more and then returned to work and combat readiness.

"Captain Thompson," Lieutenant Colonel Mancuso walked over and whispered, patting the sonar chief on the shoulder. "As an officer, you need to pay more attention and be more vigilant."

"Aye-Aye, Sir."

Hearing this reply full of enthusiasm and respect, the corners of Lieutenant Colonel Mancuso's mouth curled up slightly, but quickly moved back down. He turned to look at Jones and was about to say something - but the sonar operator had already carefully put on the headset and stared at the screen intently - the source of the snowflake-like noise was slowly falling, with a strangeness that had never been felt in these months.

"The low-frequency passive array sonar detected an unusual signal, and the clutter has been filtered out," Jones said, frowning. "It doesn't match the noise waveform of known Soviet submarines. This is definitely a new submarine... With this level of quietness, it's very likely a nuclear submarine!"

“What about the reliability of the sound source?”

"S (Sonar Contact) Type 7!"

"Determine the position and distance immediately, Captain, and report directly to me."

Commander Mancuso left the sonar department—he felt a mixture of nervousness and joy, as if the value of himself and the submarine had been proven—and walked through a short, narrow corridor. He came to the command room and said to the second-in-command:

"Sound the battle alert. All personnel, assume combat positions. Execute combat regulations. Adjust course to 2-2-7, maintain depth at 300 meters, and reduce speed to 5 knots."

The deputy captain quickly carried out the order, and after completing it, he stood beside the lieutenant colonel and whispered:

"…Are you sure? It's a Russian submarine?"

"I'm not sure, but who else could it be? The Chinese? Their nuclear submarines sail from the East China Sea, and the noise they make could kill the fish in the Ryukyu Islands."

Lieutenant Colonel Mancuso shook his head, several possibilities flashing through his mind, and then he lowered his voice and replied:

"It could also be an Atlas Corporation submarine. They have quite a few shipyards... Our current location isn't within Atlas Corporation's traditional sphere of influence. We're quite close to the Japanese, but these Japs aren't qualified or capable of participating in our 'game.'"

The current situation put the two officers in a difficult position. After all, the boss was very popular among the military. Even now that the United States government was alienated from him, there were still many people who wanted to work at Atlas.

After a few seconds of silence, in the dimmed command room, Lieutenant Colonel Mancuso said calmly:

"Fill tube one with water, launch the submersible, prepare torpedoes in tubes three and four."

The noise of the torpedo tubes filling with water spread through the cabin and was dissipated by the reciprocating rotation of the mechanical structure inside the submarine.

"Turn on the active sonar. I need more accurate intelligence... The telecommunications room must send combat records at any time. The disposable communication buoy is ready."

The wait for a reply from the sonar department was not long, but in just these ten minutes, Lieutenant Colonel Mancuso felt his back soaked with sweat.

In the dark red command room, only the screens were lit, reflecting the sweat on the crew members' faces.

"Lieutenant Colonel, we are unable to determine the enemy's position and distance."

Captain Thomson from the sonar department brought bad news. He opened his mouth, his face filled with shame he had never seen before:

"The sound source signal was weak and intermittent, and its direction was erratic, even appearing only a few nautical miles away from us... Jones and the other sonar operators believed that they were just sonar decoys released by the enemy. The sudden increase in the sound just now seemed to be a reminder or warning... We were tricked."

The captain said this and turned his head to look in the direction of the sonar room. Jones, the best sonar operator, was frowning and listening intently to every faint sound.

However, the captain's voice was louder than the noise on the seabed and loud enough for everyone in the command room to hear.

The sailors looked at each other, and even the officers stared at each other in silence.

Noticing the atmosphere around him, Lieutenant Colonel Mancuso frowned and said with a hint of rebuke:

"Keep your faith, Captain. But at any rate, we can be sure that there is indeed a hostile submarine nearby, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"I understand," Lieutenant Colonel Mancuso tapped his fingers unconsciously on his arm, his mind racing:

"The Russians' Pacific Fleet—ah, the Pacific—their fleet has been rusting in the harbor, and the risk to surface ships can basically be eliminated."

"The enemy may have discovered us long ago."

"No one would risk angering the United States by sinking a military nuclear submarine right now. Otherwise, they would have already done it," Commander Mancuso said matter-of-factly, raising his voice so that everyone could hear. Then, the commander stepped forward and said to the helmsman, "Turn six degrees left and maintain the current speed. The sonar department will continue to monitor. Speed ​​up the submersible and cut its wires. Let this little guy use his remaining energy to lure out the unknown submarine."

"Aye-Aye, Sir."

"Compose a codeword: 'An unknown enemy nuclear submarine has appeared in the activity area between 07:040 and 11:021, requesting support.' Release the buoys... If submarines can't solve the problem, destroyers and anti-submarine aircraft may not be able to."

Commander Mancuso smiled. He stepped forward, took the intercom, and said over the ship's radio:

"Everyone, you should already understand the current situation, but there's no need to worry. After all, we're not fighting alone—keep close to the target, and then let the powerful United States fleet capture it! Want to see the captain's dejected expression after his submarine is forced to surface? Gentlemen, you'll have plenty of work to do!"

The originally tense sailors relaxed a little, and as smiles blossomed on their faces, the joy of being American citizens surged in their hearts...

"There's a sound, a pump! But this sound—"

Hearing something, sonar operator Jones suddenly took off his headphones, rushed out of the sonar room, and shouted in horror to everyone in the command room:

"It's going to pass right over us!"

“!!!!” Commander Mancuso’s heart skipped a beat. He sternly ordered, “Preheat the torpedoes in tubes three and four, and launch the submarine probe in tube two. In the name of God, I will know what this thing is even if I die!”

Before he finished speaking, the hull of the Dallas nuclear submarine began to tremble violently.

The ocean current was cut off at this moment, and the huge steel monster suddenly increased its speed, eventually squeezing through the sea water at a speed of 42 knots, passing over the Los Angeles-class attack nuclear submarine without hesitation. The terrifying noise caused by this could even be heard by everyone in the boat!

How fucking close was this?! How did it get here?!

Countless questions crowded into Lieutenant Colonel Mancuso's throat, but when the words came out of his mouth, they became:

"Everyone prepare for impact!"

The surging waters churned, nearly pushing the multi-thousand-ton Dallas sideways. If the submarine weren't inherently sturdy, the fragile bodies within would have faced the brutal slaughter of the deep sea! Even so, the Dallas would have to return to port for overhaul or be scrapped completely—the keel was already slightly warped, and every twist of its body was accompanied by a murmur of pain unheard by ordinary humans.

"Everyone... resist the impact... cough cough cough... hold your posts!"

Lieutenant Commander Mancuso shouted loudly. He didn't know whether his order had been issued, but at least when he was helped up by the second-in-command, most of the sailors had returned to their posts and were more or less wounded.

The lieutenant colonel felt that his ribs might be broken and there was a dull pain in his chest.