Long-term salvation

The soldiers gathered around, passing the hot pieces of meat and grilled fish to each other. A few unlucky ones who couldn't find cutlery could only eat with their hands. They didn't care even if they grimaced in the heat. Even their companions whose plates were snatched away by them would show a look of disgust.

"I didn't expect we could actually participate in the celebration and banquet... I thought we were going to be thrown into the desert to die. Thank you, boss, praise you... It would be even better if he doesn't throw us out tomorrow. The salary here is pretty good."

Second Lieutenant Zhao Zian of the Second Department of the Aurora General Staff (the following three people are all from Chapter 497) muttered and fiddled with the beer can in his hand. He leaned on the waterproof cloth of an armored vehicle, not caring about the dust and sand that made his military uniform dirty.

"But the bonus is gone, and you have to write at least 4000-word action reports every day... Zhao, do you still want beer?" Lieutenant Arseny Pavlov came over with a whole box of beer, which still had wet marks on it.

After forcing a bottle onto Lieutenant Zhao Zian, the burly GRU man raised his head and drank the whole bottle in one gulp, followed by another.

"Phew... it's a shame we can't have vodka, but discipline is discipline—Hey, Yankee, did you get your transfer orders or anything?"

"Listen, Slav, if you ever call me a 'Yankee' again, I'll rip your mouth out before I'm shot."

Corporal Luke Hollis of the United States Army Intelligence Department raised his middle finger at the burly man, but he also opened a bottle of beer and drank it slowly, while answering dryly in a mixture of Russian and English:

“Only the people in the Intelligence Department remember us, and now they are just doing menial tasks, like prisoners in a prison.”

"Not being a test subject in a lab is good enough, Corporal Hollis. Didn't you see what happened to that CIA agent who was so stubborn?"

"...Although Army Intelligence hasn't done anything particularly good, its reputation is certainly better than the CIA," Corporal Hollis shuddered, opening another beer as if to bolster his courage. "I'm really glad I chose the Army!"

The noisy sounds in the distance became even more enthusiastic, and waves of cheers came from the edge of the platform built with two AS mechas as the core, like waves washing over the reefs.

Three soldiers of awkward identities came over, stood in the shadows and looked into the distance.

After staring silently for a moment, Lieutenant Pavlov murmured:

"Boss, he's back from Mogadishu... but there are rumors within Atlas that he died in the Mogadishu nuclear explosion—so who is he? My superiors haven't given any orders to gather intelligence on him! This is very strange."

"Perhaps we'll only find out after joining the Army Without Borders," Corporal Hollis said thoughtfully, but his expression quickly fell, his words tinged with resignation. "However, the information on the Army Without Borders was personally reviewed by the Boss. All spies who attempted to enter were apprehended and subsequently disappeared."

"Maybe they just went to the Peach Blossom Spring... Oh, nothing, it's just an ancient Aurora story."

"It's still a bit weird."

Recalling his time in the Atlas Company, Lieutenant Pavlov felt a vague sense of a terrifying net descending from above, covering him, the others, and the entire world. Now, his chest was filled with an inexplicable uneasiness and apprehension, as if some change was quietly taking place, unnoticed by the world.

But after thinking it over carefully, the lieutenant shook his head again and cast his gaze on the crowd in the distance. He could hear the boss's voice:

"We lament that the dead could not drink the wine, and mourn that the dead could not enjoy the glory! Warriors, we sing loudly today, just so that those brothers who have already fallen in the pure white sea of ​​flowers can hear us from afar. Now, rejoice! Revel! There is no paradise in this world, only an eternal battlefield and a legion bound by curses! When we sober up from our drunken stupor, we will once again embark on the thorny road to save all living beings - for humanity, until death!"

"Til death do us part!"

Lieutenant Pavlov followed the crowd and the battle cries that resounded through the night sky, reciting the oath in a low voice. He tried to wipe away the tears from the corners of his eyes but could not. He could only lean helplessly against the armored plate of the armored vehicle.

He no longer has the Soviet homeland that allowed him to say this proudly... A wife worried about food, children without school to go to, elderly parents shivering in the cold winter... The collapse of a country brings not freedom, but degeneration, poverty and death - when will all this end?

"Til death do us part!"

Corporal Hollis said this cheerfully in a low voice. He also helped in the battle, wearing a mechanical exoskeleton to help organize and carry munitions and other supplies, and helped carry the wounded and evacuate civilians after the battle.

But the cheerful voices soon faded away. The corporal thought gloomily of the videos that had been released to the world... They were definitely Umbrella's biological weapons. The United States knew who was involved in the Mogadishu incident, but they remained indifferent.

“…until death.”

Second Lieutenant Zhao Zian said with relief, remembering the two sentences on the tower. Of the three, he was the least panicked. If he had anything to worry about... he was worried about his motherland. But what was there to worry about? The motherland is always well protected by the bravest.

"But if I have the chance, I'd like to come back in a more official capacity," Second Lieutenant Zhao Zian sighed. He turned and looked at the two people who were thinking about other things, saying, "There's no point in me staying here in this capacity anymore—I'll report back tomorrow."

"It seems we need to do the same," Lieutenant Pavlov straightened up. He planned to return home, read the works of Valery Sablin, the current leader of the Russian Communist Party, and listen to one of his speeches. "We can return with some achievements in protecting others. Even if no one knows about it, even if we are despised by others, it will be enough."

“…I should go back too.”

Corporal Hollis opened a few more bottles of beer and handed them to the two guys who had once settled a personal grudge against each other. But after the bottles clinked, there was a little more smile between them as men - they had fought side by side and served in the same army. If their identities had not been exposed, they might have sacrificed themselves for others.

Now, they are separating again for their own country.

Time really did pass quickly at Atlas, so quickly that it felt like a dream that would never come back.

“Don’t expect such tender moments when we meet elsewhere, Hollis.”

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Zhao."

"To the future, then," Lieutenant Pavlov raised his bottle.

"Respect the motherland."

"To freedom."

The three people's wine bottles clinked together, splashing some wine foam, which flickered faintly in the bright lights in the distance.

"To Shengli, and to the mysterious Mr. Rhodes." x3

Chapter 522: Across the Ocean

The celebrations in Kismayo lasted for two days. Two days later, the various units of Atlas Corporation/Army Without Borders gradually returned to training and combat readiness, while preparing to replace the brother units still stationed in the newly occupied areas and continue to confront local tribal armed forces or other armed forces supported by different forces - of course, there was also the need to suppress rioters in the newly occupied areas and protect the construction team's construction of civilian facilities.

In the next one or two years, neither Rhodes nor Irons wants anything to happen in southern Somalia.

Construction takes time, but sadly, destruction does the exact opposite.

After the Somalia incident, Rhodes returned to North America with the girls and a planeload of "seriously injured" soldiers.

Some of the seats in a 747-400 passenger aircraft have been removed and replaced with bed frames and other medical equipment, as well as to accommodate more medical staff. There is also a special storage compartment for storing straitjackets and straps similar to those used in mental hospitals... although no one hopes they will actually be used.

Many of the soldiers on this trip weren't seriously injured, and some received sedatives and better care. However, due to the contamination from the world beyond, all of them were plagued by nightmares and hallucinations.

This situation has already caused some unrest within the base and almost resulted in casualties.

Fortunately, with the help of the girls, Rhodes was still able to handle possible emergencies - at worst, he could send "physical tranquilizers" one by one. Having nightmares was better than opening his eyes and being tortured by hallucinations, shouting and causing a commotion that could result in injury.

At this moment, Rhodes was sitting on a folding chair in the middle of the cabin, next to several Army Without Borders soldiers who were suffering from severe hallucinations... but judging from their appearance, the situation seemed to have stabilized a little.

"What can you see now?" Rhode asked gently, holding a box of tranquilizer syringes. "It seems that your condition has stabilized a lot since Meiya and the others boarded the plane."

"It's indeed stable, Boss."

A sergeant nodded slightly. Aside from a few scratches on his face, he had no obvious injuries. However, as the leader of the demolition team, he and two other soldiers faced the inner world rift, which was madly overflowing with energy and pollution.

"If I must say, I can feel some relief," another soldier added. With his right arm in a sling, he closed his eyes, as if afraid to look at what lay ahead. "A quieter place would feel better."

"Well, I understand... Although it may be a bit rude to say this, I still want to know what you can see now. Even if it's just some meaningless illusions, it can add some samples to psychological research."

At least Director Hannibal has brought his "apprentice" to the town of Arkham and plans to stay here for a while to complete his research and psychology works - which will definitely be useful in the future.

Rhode put down his medical kit and asked Hinata, who was already working on some paperwork, for some pen and paper. He then grabbed Makoto, who was trying to stir up trouble, and told her to go to the rear of the cabin to help Marian prepare a meal. After returning to his seat, Rhode noticed that some other soldiers had also gathered around, their faces tinged with hope.

"Can we, whose cases are not serious, also help? It would be nice if we could help a little."

These faces were young, tough, and exhausted from torture, yet they burned with an almost tangible desire—a desire with a silent scorching heat that seemed to burn the pages of the report Rhodes was about to write. The soldier lying on the bed next to him moved his stiff knuckles, propped himself up with his hands, and leaned upwards. He raised his head, his eyes filled with an almost pilgrim-like expectation.

"Of course." Rhode's Adam's apple rolled, and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly. He first reached out and patted the arm of the soldier lying on the bed next to him, then pulled over a small table and asked, "Who's going first?"

"Let me go first... I'm the pilot of the AS mecha, and I landed in Mogadishu with you."

A second lieutenant said this, trying to straighten his back as he met Rhode's gaze, but a hint of embarrassment appeared on his face, as if he was ashamed to reveal his vulnerability to others. After hesitating for a few seconds, the sergeant finally spoke, saying:

"I first saw festering wounds and plague blisters, then they turned into flies and demons. This has continued since I left the battlefield until now..."

The lieutenant waited for Rhodes's pen to stop. When the rustling sound no longer competed with the engine noise for the soldiers' attention, he spoke slowly and sadly:

"I see a decaying corpse with a golden laurel wreath sitting before me, and even though I know it is you, I still feel pain, as if a bleak future awaits us."

"So this is just an illusion. You've played too many Warhammer 40 board games. Buy less next time." Rhodes shrugged, but he still wrote these words down. "And I won't let this kind of future happen. At least I don't have a son, right?"

"...If you could cancel the 20% discount on chess pieces for Army Without Borders and Atlas employees, and the frequent discounts on large bags when distributing bonuses, I'd definitely buy less... Wait, is this your payroll recovery plan?! I know it!"

"Your hallucinations are getting worse, Lieutenant. You're even talking nonsense. Ahem—next one!"

Rhodes sent the suspicious lieutenant away and called the others over. The soldiers were numbered in order under the guidance of the girls. Those who were far away did not leave their seats, but waited quietly for Rhodes to come over.

At that moment, the Atlantic sun slanted in through the cabin windows, casting bright spots of light on the slightly crowded seats, illuminating the slowly floating dust in the air, and illuminating the faces of the soldiers. Their eyes followed Rhodes' fingers as he tightened his ballpoint pen, or as he occasionally paused to pick up a simple form and frowned at it.

Every sudden stop and every question makes people feel uneasy and hopeful.

A few hours ago, when the plane first took off, many people would scream at the sudden change of hallucinations and silently shed tears at the painful things they saw. But now, the soldiers have quieted down, as if the pain has gradually faded away.

"It looks similar to the hallucinations caused by consuming psychotropic drugs, poisonous mushrooms, and other substances. It also changes with time and space. For example... most people now see me as a rotting corpse or a skeleton, while a few see a golden sun... Hmm, make sure to remember the names of these people."

Rhodes explained to Miya who came over that there were still many interested soldiers around, but some of them had chosen to rest due to auditory and visual hallucinations.

Looking at the types, developments, and impacts of the hallucinations recorded in the report in his hand, Rhodes frowned. He gripped the nearly empty ballpoint pen tightly and muttered to himself as he wrote:

"What are the side effects of [Anshining]?"

It does look very similar, and it's the kind that appears after long-term use - in other words, the soldiers of the Army Without Borders briefly became "clairvoyants" after being exposed to excessive amounts of otherworldly pollution.

This is not good news.

If the tide of the inner world continues to rise and continues to weaken the thickness of the veil of reality, then there will definitely be more clairvoyants and strong clairvoyants in human society. Strong clairvoyants are more likely to be targeted by creatures of the inner world than ordinary people, and their emotions are often more intense, making them more likely to cause disasters in the inner world.

Although the arrival of [Apocalypse Plague] slowed down the rising tide, it was more like a pressure release. What about those heavyweight existences that followed, such as death? How should we deal with them?

"Tsk..."

Rhode threw the pen on the table, wiped his face vigorously, and faced the worried looks of the girls, forcing a slight smile. He said to Miya who was collecting documents nearby:

"I'll leave it to you when we get back, Miya. Contact the doctors at the military hospital and ask Hinata and the others to assist... I still have some things to do."

After saying that, Rhodes looked out the porthole. There was a blue sky that was so clear that it was almost unreal, and further down was the Atlantic Ocean, sparkling with tiny silver lights in the sunlight.

In a dozen hours, the plane will land.

Chapter 523 He Died Surrounded by Crowds

The passenger plane slowly descended under the gray sky of Boston like a tired steel whale.

The convoy had been waiting for a long time, ready to send the soldiers to the best hospital for care and treatment.

Even though the Mogadishu incident happened not long ago, Atlas and even the Army Without Borders, which finally appeared before the world, are standing on the moral high ground of public opinion and are admired and cheered by the people for their actions in rescuing peacekeepers.

This prompted the Massachusetts State Troopers to come forward with a pat on the back, offering to send a fleet of police cars to guide the convoy back. Amid the cheers of the crowd, even the "black hands" behind the scenes retreated, watching indifferently from the shadows.

Now, the girls, led by Hina and Miya, are scattered on each vehicle carrying soldiers to prevent them from having hallucinations become more severe or engaging in other extreme actions due to the drastic changes in the environment and the noisy sounds.

Following the convoy are reporters from Triple God Entertainment Group. They will film this scene and use it as publicity material to continuously strengthen the goodwill of people around the world towards the Army Without Borders (Atlas Corporation) and lay the foundation for subsequent actions and development.

Meanwhile, Rhode quietly left midway with Marian and Honglian, entering from the edge of Arkham Town, ready to deliver the most important item of their trip—the ashes of the fallen soldiers—back to the martyrs' families in Arkham Town. Not only them, but other officers would also personally deliver the ashes of their soldiers in the coming days.

As with the occasional deaths in the past, the ashes of the fallen Army Without Borders soldiers will remain at the Black Stone for a period of time before being taken away by a special person. For some soldiers whose bodies have not been found, only their suicide notes and other relics, which are updated every quarter, can be brought back.

Bring them back to North America, Europe, Asia, Oceania... bring them back to the soldiers' homes. At that time, the personnel of the Army Without Borders will ask the families for their opinions on the cemetery - Rod had discussed with the directors of the Cogito Foundation that after gaining a stable control area, a special cemetery should be set aside for easy management, commemoration and inspiration.

Of course, this is free, after all, there are always people who want to go home.

Now that the Army Without Borders has finally stood before the world, ready to face the storm, Rhodes will gradually step forward, as the supreme commander, not as Jesus Christ... Now is the beginning:

Rod rang the doorbell.

A middle-aged man in his fifties opened the door with a look of surprise on his face, but when his eyes fell on Rhodes' face, his smile faded slightly:

"Mr. Rhodes of Hill Manor..."

"Excuse me, is this Mateo Delgado's home?" Rhodes asked calmly. He held up the box in his hand—a square box made of dark wood. However, the surface of the box was too smooth and too silent, like the frozen night. "Now, as his supreme commander, I will send him home."

"..."

The soldier's father took a half step back. He wanted to close the door, but froze in his tracks. He snatched the box from Rhodes's hands as if it were a snatch. Slowly stroking the urn, looking at the solemn portrait of his son on the front, the man closed his eyes in pain and slowly slid down against the door frame.

There was no crying, only heart-wrenching silence.

"Mr. Delgado," Rod bent down and helped the man up from the ground, and whispered, "Take a deep breath. You still need to keep living, even for his brother and mother—when will they come back?"

"……evening."

The soldier's father, a veteran named Delgado, struggled to stand up straight. He held the urn tightly and stumbled into the house. He sat on the sofa as if he was falling into hell, staring blankly at the decorations in the living room.

Without looking up at the family photo again, the veteran who lost his son took a breath and kept his voice steady:

"I didn't expect...his commander would be you. I always thought he worked for General Hammer's security company, and that logo—the laurel wreath and skull—is the logo of the Army Without Borders, right? I saw it on TV, the heroes who returned from the Battle of Mogadishu. They rescued the peacekeepers and cut off Aidid's head."

The old soldier raised his head and looked at Rhodes with tears in his eyes. He choked, trembled, and asked with some fear:

"My son, is he a hero?"

"Mateo Delgado was killed during the final evacuation. The entire unit was surrounded, but he held his shield and took the most fatal blow from the enemy, protecting his companions and the armored vehicle that provided cover fire."

Rhodes spoke out loud. He stood in front of the veteran and said word by word seriously:

"He died surrounded by people. He was a true hero."

The veteran tried to smile, but his facial muscles only trembled a few times, like a machine that had lost its most critical gear.

Outside the window, in the distance, under the sky, the vague and jubilant voices of the crowd came faintly and intermittently, as if separated by a thick curtain of water, as distant as a faint echo from another world.