Eh? Do you also want to try the iron fist of the humanoid girl?

Vic's mind flashed back to his wife's smiling face, and he replied with a trembling voice, "Four months."

He tried to shake off his gloomy thoughts and let out a long breath, but was immediately overwhelmed by the conversation that followed.

Raphael didn't allow himself to clear his chaotic thoughts.

"Is the lady all right?"

"She's a real estate agent."

"You seem very happy."

"Have it?"

Raphael's eyes met Vic's, and his tone of reply felt unchanged: "Because there was an unfading warmth in your tone, even though your voice had calmed down from the tremor."

"Lieutenant, was your major at the Naval Academy psychology?"

"No, I majored in electronic warfare, and also received some combat command training," Raphael denied.

"Electronic countermeasures?"

"Yes, intercept radar signals from the air or sea, analyze and send out competing radio waves, blinding the enemy's radar or making it see a false target moving at a constant speed."

"So we can't attack the battleship?" Rick asked curiously.

"No, this is only temporary. When the two sides are close enough, the enemy's radar will be powerful enough to burn through the false signals we send out."

"Is the stealth design also the same?" Rick drew inferences from his example.

"That's right." Raphael smiled as he introduced the Ranger captain to the basics of electromagnetic countermeasures at sea. "If you're close enough, you can see everything."

"I believe you will be an excellent naval officer in the future," Vic concluded, his voice soft but his tone sonorous.

Raphael smiled but said nothing, but he was blaming himself in his heart, telling himself to say less of these things in the future. The more lies he told, the more he would have to cover up.

“Da-da-da—da-da-da-da—”

The rapid sound of gunfire drowned out all other sounds. Accompanied by a dull roar, the two men raised their guns tacitly and looked up through the gap in the stairwell.

Vic covered his ears with one hand, and after a moment he said loudly to Raphael: "It's an ELID infected person. He slept on the 16th floor for an unknown period of time. Now he's hard as hell."

"It's been almost two months since the blockade. It's normal for it to become hard. It's an old corpse!" Raphael also shouted at the top of his voice.

The scouts above were all tough metal bones, so they threw grenades one after another, and the team's machine gunners cooperated by firing bullets one after another.

In half a minute, the floor had turned into a sea of ​​blood and corpses, with broken limbs and arms strewn all over the ground.

Chapter 87 The leaked plot has to be tasted

From: Raphael NGSW

To: Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency

Notice: Ministry of National Defense

1. Consensus reached. February 1938, 2 Eastern Time. According to analysis, the target has different attitudes and the personnel composition is quite complicated. The details will be communicated later.

2. The recovery mission is progressing smoothly and we request to obtain detailed information of the original recovery mission.

……

Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency.

"Great," Harry B. Carnegie said to himself as he returned to his luxurious office. Before he spoke to Camp David, he carefully closed the door and sent the printed message to the shredder.

"Sam, this is Harry. Listen, Raphael reports that a consensus has been reached with the other side, and they are still trying to complete the mission. The location is approximately 3 miles southwest of Washington Park..."

"Shit, if word gets out, somebody's going to get screwed," Sam said. "It was a crazy decision at the time—some of us had gone to that extreme."

"What do you want?"

Sam changed his position holding the phone. The sunlight coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows and the open world were right in front of him. He supported his head with his hands and thought for half a minute.

"What an unexpected move," he said suddenly.

“It’s not far from panicking when it comes to this.”

"But we have no reason to panic now. This is not in line with our character, although every family has its own shortcomings."

Although Sam Emerson's words sounded like concise accusations, Harry already felt that this guy was going to do something. From Sam's words, he could sense a strange, somewhat happy attitude, which was not due to his own ignorance of the real situation.

"So, Washington is still calm?" Harry asked loudly.

"What should I say!" Sam shrugged. "It's Camp David. Of course, there are scumbags who sneak in, but overall," he thought for a moment and concluded, "normal." Then, as if to assess the truthfulness of his answer, he pondered for a while and said, "Yes, normal."

As soon as he said this, several men in suits rushed in. The leading young man, who was only wearing a shirt and had messy hair, shouted in panic:

"The media came to our door! They..."

"What?" Sam stood up, his face full of shock. "No way, no way... If this kind of news leaks out, it will cause big problems! This is crazy, no way!"

Harry remained silent. He didn't want to appear suspicious. He could only be more cautious than this man, and this feeling suppressed any other small actions.

"Where did you get your information?" Sam asked.

"Forwarded by the Ministry of National Defense."

"What?" Sam was shocked again, his voice two octaves higher than before, "Your contact with Raphael is forwarded through the Ministry of Defense?! What about the confidential line!"

"It's useless. The standard equipment originally issued was burned out by the high-energy particle flow."

"Why standard equipment? Why?" Sam slammed the table and demanded, "Then how did she get in touch with you?"

"They provided communications equipment and managed to repair a high-power radio antenna. The news was sent via the military's satellite network."

"This is troublesome." Sam said, while asking people to get out of his office, and then took out a map of this place from the cabinet. He leaned over the map and studied the people and units that might be involved in this matter with a complicated emotion.

After half a minute, he gave up. This was the kind of information leak that could not be traced, and there were too many problems in the process.

The pursuit of accountability can be launched at any time, and the most important thing now is to distance himself from the issue. He is the Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs, a senior aide in the President's Executive Office, and the President's chief adviser on national security issues.

Unlike the Secretary of State and the Secretary of Defense, who are in charge of the U.S.'s huge State Department and Department of Defense systems respectively, the Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs is not the head of a government department and his appointment does not require the approval of Congress.

But he is one of the president's most important personnel appointments. He is only "loyal" to the president and is entrusted by the president to organize, coordinate and supervise relevant government departments to study major issues, propose solutions, and formulate and implement policies.

Many times, the President’s National Security Advisor can understand and reflect the President’s will better than other government officials, and his influence on the President is always present.

Compared with the Secretary of State and the Secretary of Defense, his power is more of a "hidden" power.

Therefore, in the eyes of the outside world, he often represents the will of the president. The two have a deep interest binding and have the same stance on many issues.

Abandoning more than 800 troops - especially those deployed to New York for a "maintenance" mission - was basically a "major earthquake" for President Wall and his cabinet officials.

Last time, Waller was criticized for his overly blunt words at the press conference for the "green money" smallpox refugees in New York. God knows what kind of trouble he will cause this time.

"Calm down," Harry reminded on the phone, "This is a quagmire. It's up to you to perform from now on."

“Hello! …Hello!?”

Sam Emerson slammed the phone into its cradle, and a grinding sound came out of his mouth.

"Damn it, bastards. All the people in the Research Bureau are bastards."

"Sir?" the secretary who came in to report the bad news asked cautiously, "What should we do next?"

"Get out!"

The secretary blinked in panic, tiptoed back the way he came, and finally closed the office door gently.

After Sam dismissed his secretary, he did not sit down at his desk to confirm the news. Instead, he paced by the floor-to-ceiling window in an incredible manner, looking in the direction of New York.

At this moment he felt a familiar yet unsettling feeling.

Since the greenback smallpox virus was released, many things have been out of line, and these guys who violate the rules have a way of doing it. He didn't dare to estimate how much was exposed, but Sam was sure that they must have guessed something.

Maybe it’s not a question of what was guessed, but what was obtained and how much was obtained.

But why? Why did the news come out so quickly?

On the other side, in the office of the director of the Advanced Research Projects Agency, Harry broke free from his cautious state, and holding the highest-level encrypted phone, he smiled and praised Raphael, saying that she did a good job.

After the routine praise, he began to paint a rosy picture, saying that there had been new breakthroughs in the research on the body, and that they also had new application ideas for the core of the failed reverse imitation. She'd better speed up the recovery mission and then come back.

Chapter 88 Angel Investment

"Is it over?" Vic John asked in surprise.

"Well, the reply was that they were trying to find a solution."

"That's it?"

He thought this was incredible.

Raphael nodded in affirmation and explained, "I am worthy of their payment for providing rescue."

Vic rubbed his chin as he recalled the time he joined the Army and went through training, wondering how much that training was worth.

This was something he used to experience every day, but the memory had become blurry and slipped easily through Vic's fingers.

Infantry in the narrow sense is really cheap, he thought.

"By the way, how was Officer Candidate School?" he asked.

Vic's question made Raphael's eyes begin to sparkle.

Oh, interesting, she thought.

At the same time, she introduced:

“I don’t know what the requirements are for the Army, but for the Navy, as long as you get a recommendation and pass the exam, you can enroll.

At this point, the candidate's salary will be uniformly adjusted to the E-5 level and he will be awarded the rank of 'OCUI2', which means Officer Candidate Second Class.

From this point on, you will go through a 13-week basic training.

In addition to ongoing physical training and rifle drills, instruction in and out of the classroom includes history, engineering and weaponry, damage control, naval direction and warfare, leadership, seamanship, navigation, and military law.

Your every action will be scrutinized, shortcomings will be quickly pointed out and corrected. Candidates who fail to meet milestones may be delayed from training or removed from the program.

The honor code must be followed; violators will be expelled.

When you find that your status has changed from 'Junior Candidate (Indoc)' to 'Candidate Officer (Candio), then congratulations, as long as you do not make any mistakes, you will be awarded the rank of active second lieutenant.

Then, you will be assigned to different lines based on your training experience and development direction..."

"Ah-Miss Lieutenant, that's enough. I think I understand. If I have a chance next time, I will check Wikipedia myself."

Vic rubbed his temples, and the lieutenant's machine-gun-like encyclopedic speech finally came to an end. She was obviously a very outstanding and charming girl, why did she have this problem of not being able to stop talking once she started?

He thought of what the other party had said before, "paying the price", and the topic that was raised earlier - it seemed a bit deliberate now. Could it be that Lieutenant Raphael had another identity?

So he asked again: "Do you want to...?"

"There is still a month left, and I think the recycling mission can be completed successfully. After this is over, we will go our separate ways," Raphael said with a shrug.

"This isn't like advice for 'friends.'" Vic emphasized the word "friends."

"I'd pick 'friends' too, wouldn't I?"

Raphael raised his eyebrows. The communication between officers was much more troublesome than that between ordinary soldiers, and there were also a lot of unspoken but real rules.

There are also clear rules between officers and soldiers, so... soldiers don't interact much with officers and non-commissioned officers outside the battlefield, unless they are good friends.

It is also very simple to understand the relationship between U.S. military officers, non-commissioned officers and soldiers from another perspective - compare the army to a factory in a small town.

Of course, there is no union in this factory.

At the bottom of the factory are the blue-collar workers working on the assembly line. They complete most of the work in the factory and are equivalent to soldiers in the army.

This group of people are often young people who have just graduated from high school, some of whom may not have graduated; there are also some older workers.

They are directly managed by the foreman, who is equivalent to a non-commissioned officer in the army.

These foremen are experienced workers whose job is to train young workers and lead them to complete their daily workload. Like the young people, they belong to the blue-collar class.

The people who manage the various departments of the factory are managers, who are equivalent to military officers.

These white-collar workers are often the same age as the workers under them, but the two groups have completely different social backgrounds. Most managers are college graduates (ROTC graduates), but in this more open-minded factory, some outstanding workers are assigned to participate in the training program (OCS) and become managers.

These blue-collar people have to learn the rules of the white-collar world, and generally do not rise to very high positions in their careers.

Among the grassroots managers, a few are the sons of shareholders (pastry graduates), and there are special ties between these people and the factory bosses, as well as within this group.