Chapter 159
The sound of the radio reverberated softly.
[A cold front expanding from the North is expected to bring rain, snow, and strong winds. A severe cold wave is predicted to affect the northern mountainous regions and the central plains…]
As December approached, the sky above Abas was dark once again today.
As I arrived at my destination, cutting through the gloomy sky, I spotted layers of barricades set up to prevent VBIED (vehicle-borne improvised explosive device) attacks.
I rolled down all the windows, including the driver’s seat, and slowly reduced my speed.
“Please state your affiliation, name, and purpose of visit.”
“I am Frederick Nostrim.”
Handing over my ID, the executive pressed the radio to report. After relaying a few numbers to the checkpoint, he nodded and returned my ID.
“Confirmed. You may enter.”
Soldiers armed to the teeth cleared the barricades, and I drove through the checkpoint without any further hindrance.
Passing by the heavily armed soldiers, I approached the road leading up.
The Ministry of Defense building at the end of a long hill came into view.
—
Episode 9 – Old-Fashioned
—
The Disciplinary Committee convened at the Ministry of Defense building. While it was standard for such committees to be held at the affiliated unit, due to my position as the Defense Attaché and Camila’s colleague, the organization unusually decided to hold the committee at the Ministry of Defense.
I first passed through the security checkpoint with metal detectors and magic-wave scanners. It took some time due to the enhanced security regulations following the terrorist incident, but there were no major issues.
Thus, I left my luggage in the first-floor lobby and followed the guide through a passage hidden from the public eye. Naturally, I left my issued pistol behind with my luggage.
And shortly after.
I finally arrived at the meeting room where the Disciplinary Committee was being held.
“…….”
The committee was held in a meeting room located in the Ministry of Defense building. The curved, wide table held what appeared to be committee members, and at the intersection of their gazes sat a small table. I instinctively felt that this was my place to sit.
I walked up, unbuttoned my suit jacket, and took a seat. During the walk to the table, the members didn’t spare me so much as a glance.
The scene reminded me of a job interview. Especially since most members were dressed in suits rather than uniforms.
I had been forewarned by Clevenz that the Disciplinary Committee would be a makeshift affair, but the members’ cold reactions made me unnecessarily anxious.
“…….”
Sitting in my chair, I rolled my eyes, and only then did the scenery of the meeting room come into view. The lights on the ceiling were off, and the yellow lamps on each desk illuminated the paperwork. The exquisite arrangement of the lights made the members’ faces hard to discern, but the light above my table was abominably bright, like a streetlight attracting insects.
Standing before over ten Disciplinary Committee members, I let out a faint sigh inwardly. That was quite a number, and it seemed it would not be easy.
Turning my head slightly revealed familiar faces in the corner of the meeting room. Seated without a table were Clevenz and Leoni, as well as someone who resembled Thanos, whom Camila mentioned a few days ago. Seeing that he followed her immediately after her arrival, I suspected he might be Abas, the Information Officer. Given his presence in the committee, it seems my suspicion was correct.
Part of me wanted to greet Clevenz, but the atmosphere felt utterly wrong for such pleasantries, so I decided to remain quiet.
The suit man, appearing to be a committee member, finally spoke up.
“Frederick Nostrim. Is that your real name?”
“Yes.”
“Your current rank is Major, and have you recently served in the Defense Attaché Office of the Abas Embassy?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
Once he finished speaking, the committee member fell silent. I thought the Disciplinary Committee was about to start seriously, but it seemed not yet.
An incredibly dreadful silence followed. In the meeting room where not even a breath could be heard, the only sounds were occasional rustling of papers or scribblings with pens.
I wished to confirm how much time had passed, but unfortunately, there was no clock in sight.
As I sat there in a daze, the members began murmuring quietly before hastily organizing their documents.
Seeing this, I quietly closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled, lifting my eyelids.
It was the start of the Disciplinary Committee.
—
Today’s Disciplinary Committee was set to be held as an informal assembly. Instead of being a punitive measure against me, it was essentially a preemptive step by the Military Intelligence Agency to create an alias for use in case of emergencies.
Of course, although it was called ‘informal,’ the Disciplinary Committee was still a Disciplinary Committee. If they were to hold such a committee under the guise of being informal with no intention of punishment and it got exposed, my future self, who might have been disguised within the intelligence agency, would have faced dire consequences that day. Thus, the Disciplinary Committee proceeded in a conventional manner.
The wide, elongated table was surrounded by committee members, while I sat all alone at a hard metal desk on the corner of the meeting room.
The committee asked me a few simple identification questions for verification. Was I indeed Frederick Nostrim, did I work where I claimed, was my residence indeed the official residence, and so forth. Only after answering these generic questions did the Disciplinary Committee finally commence properly.
And then countless questions followed. They varied in type.
“Major Nostrim, is it true that you charged excessive costs during a meal with the information agent while working at the Magic Tower?”
“I believe you have raised concerns about inappropriate relationships with a foreigner reported by the Inspection Office. Do you have anything to say?”
“I understand that your immediate family and siblings reside in the townhouse in the capital. Why do you remain in the official residence?”
Some were naive questions I had somewhat anticipated.
“Why did you view confidential documents from the Royal Intelligence Department without permission from the agency head or the non-verbal superintendent?”
“What was your reason for being at the department store where the terror attack occurred?”
“I understand you engaged with the terrorists shortly after the disturbance began. Do you believe it was necessary for you to use your issued pistol independently, without the higher-ups’ approval, in a situation where the facts were not yet clear?”
There were questions that slightly deviated from my expectations. The types of questions varied, and the members took turns throwing inquiries at me.
Why had I gone to the scene during the terrorism incident, did I feel it was necessary to use my issued pistol, why hadn’t I reported in advance, and what was the reason for moving alone without an escort, and so on.
Some were justifiable and comprehensible questions, while others were maddeningly difficult to grasp, but the atmosphere was undeniably tense.
While it was merely a formality, I could not simply breeze through it like an experienced Colonel saying, ‘Let’s just have some tea,’ so I needed to respond appropriately.
“Viewing the documents from the Royal Intelligence Department was entirely my fault. I deeply regret it.”
“I have no relationship with the foreigner, that is, Saint Lucia. I have not violated any internal regulations. I was merely too flustered by the absurd claims to articulate my defense properly, but this is clearly a misunderstanding.”
However, the committee members did not relent. Although I made my case, they seemed unsatisfied and began to persistently probe even further.
“The reason for my visit to the department store was not my own will. I simply went there to fulfill the requests of my companions.”
“Are you saying that you couldn’t anticipate a terror incident?”
“Yes. To begin with, I have never been responsible for security tasks, let alone counter-terrorism duties. Forecasting terrorist acts is solely a matter for other departments…”
“Should I interpret your statement to mean that the responsibility for putting key figures in danger due to failing to predict the terror attack lies with the government?”
“…….”
As one committee member posed a question, another prepared their inquiry, and while I answered, a third member attempted to exploit any gaps in my response.
Most of the committee’s questions revolved around the recent terrorism incident, likely due to my deep involvement in that unfortunate event. It seemed clear that the pressure was real.
“The reason I engaged with the terrorists was due to a decision I made to ensure the safety of the individuals involved when I could not obtain permissions from the higher-ups.”
“Records confirm that you transported your issued pistol that day. It was also found at the scene with your fingerprints on it. Was it indeed your pistol you took?”
“Yes. It was my issued pistol.”
“What was the purpose of carrying that pistol?”
“It was for security purposes.”
“In order to respond to threats on the scene…”
“Didn’t you say earlier that you had no security duties? So on what basis did you undertake a security mission alone, carrying a pistol without support from the police or specialized departments?”
“….”
The barrage of questions felt less like inquiries and more like an interrogation. The members of the Disciplinary Committee pounced on any small mistake I made.
At this point, I was confused whether this was a Disciplinary Committee or an internal audit from the Inspection Office. Even a national inspection wouldn’t conduct itself like this.
“I believe you don’t recall the circumstances at the time of the terror incident. Is there any context that comes to mind now?”
I answered the questions posed by the committee members as sincerely as I could. In the midst of it all, a thought crossed my mind.
This doesn’t seem like a Disciplinary Committee.
“….”
A hypothesis suddenly emerged, but there were more than a couple of strange points.
First of all, there were too many committee members.
Typically, a Disciplinary Committee consists of one chairperson and four to five members. The regulations clearly state that there should be five to ten members, including the chairperson, but there were already more than ten sitting here. Moreover, there were several people present who had no connection to the Disciplinary Committee, such as Clevenz, Leoni, and that look-alike of Thanos.
It could be typical for a regular Disciplinary Committee, but this felt more like an informal one.
In other words, regardless of the number of members, there was no reason for those unrelated to participate.
More importantly, the committee members’ questions were strangely misaligned.
Questions and interrogations usually revolve around the ‘reasons for discipline.’ The very purpose of establishing this committee is to ‘deliberate’ on someone’s punishment.
However, the committee members solely threw questions at me related to terrorism. Even if it was formal, these questions had nothing to do with the purpose of the committee, and inquiries related to the reasons I was being disciplined faded away after an initial mention. Furthermore, considering how humans remember only around the beginning and end of a conversation, this was clearly odd. That’s how I’d learned during my communication training, and it’s what I taught Camila as well.
Important information should be asked in the middle of the conversation.
The start and end should be filled with unimportant content.
By the time the memory starts to fade, to confuse the other party about what we discussed.
Thus, it implies that the reasons for my potential reprimand presented by the Inspection Office are of lesser importance. From the committee’s perspective, listening to my responses regarding terrorism seemed more vital than any punishment I might receive. They had specifically focused on that part while asking questions.
To complicate matters, there were committee members who were just staring at me from the central seat without asking any questions, some pressing for a response, and others rifling through documents instead of paying attention to the conversation. There were so many weird things happening.
After thinking for a while, I posed a question to the committee.
“Are you really from the Disciplinary Committee?”
“….”
“You know, the one about behavioral ethics reform or something.”
The committee members didn’t answer. They simply stopped what they were doing and shifted their gazes.
One member who had been holding his glasses and resting his chin on his hand while scribbling on paper ceased his writing, and another who had been smoking briefly looked at me before lowering his gaze and extinquishing his cigarette in the ashtray.
As the members who had stopped turned to each other, one of them in the center finally spoke.
“No, we are not from the Disciplinary Committee.”
“We are from the Royal Intelligence Department.”
*
“Yes, we are from the Royal Intelligence Department.”
One of the members cleared up my confusion. It was someone seated centrally who had been keeping quiet and looking through documents the whole time.
The member who introduced himself as belonging to the Royal Intelligence Department gestured towards each committee member and said, “From the left, Royal Intelligence Department, Ministry of Defense, Cabinet Security Office, Special Investigation Bureau, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Prime Minister’s Residence…”
Ministry of Defense, Military Intelligence Agency, Prime Minister’s Residence, Cabinet Security Office, Ministry of Internal Affairs, Police, Ministry of Justice, Special Investigation Bureau, Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
The representative from the Royal Intelligence Department introduced the other members. While their affiliations were addressed, he did not clarify their names. Perhaps their names weren’t particularly significant, or maybe he thought I didn’t need to know them.
Maybe it was a bit of both.
“We are dealing with macro and international issues. Our first agenda is the recent terror incident.”
The member spoke. He was from the Ministry of Internal Affairs and also seated in the center.
“What do you know about this terror incident?”
“I don’t know much.”
A member from the Ministry of Justice spoke up.
“We don’t know much either. We lack data, so we’re having trouble identifying who committed the act, for what motive, and how.”
“….”
“Fortunately, the military police forces who responded have successfully secured critical evidence related to this incident. It was the recorder and notepad that you handed over to the targets before losing consciousness. Thanks to that, we have succeeded in securing various evidence, including the purpose and identity of the terrorist group.”
“….”
“You seem to have no recollection of it, though.”
The member explained to me about the terror incident.
Months ago, a magician conducting reconnaissance missions between the Imperial airspace and No Man’s Land was shot down by ground anti-aircraft guns and plummeted into No Man’s Land.
The Ministry of Defense of Abas dispatched an aerial rescue team to retrieve the magician and recover the equipment, and they encountered the Imperial search party trying to secure both the magician and the gear near the crash site. A firefight ensued.
Overwhelmed by the firepower of the Abas rescue team, the Imperial search party called for artillery support, and a nearby division’s artillery unit began shelling the No Man’s Land.
At this point, I instinctively understood.
The magician who was flying dangerously enough to be shot down and the Imperial search party that entered No Man’s Land months ago… all this happened back when I reported the independence issue of the Magic Tower to my superiors.
“The rescue team was unharmed, but the magician died at the scene from shrapnel impact. They managed to recover the equipment and body securely, but during that process, it was detected by our intelligence assets that the shelling hit a nearby village. We suspect the terrorists came from that village.”
“….”
The member from the Royal Intelligence Department interjected.
“I read your service record. Six years in the Military Intelligence Agency. You’ve been active overseas for three years after completing intelligence training. Your performance scores and results during the information officer training program were exceptional as well, and you excelled in foreign language proficiency tests.”
“….”
“You haven’t had a single incident in six years. No records of alcohol, gambling, or any crime. Your personal relationships and friendships are also unblemished, and your evaluations within your department are quite good. Moreover, you’ve participated in significant intelligence operations over the past six months and achieved results.”
“….”
“Don’t you think you possess capabilities that are too valuable to be in a position like a staff officer or an embassy attaché?”
I asked the members.
“What is it that you want?”
One member, looking stringent, stared at me. Peering over thin glasses, he set aside the papers he was holding and said, “We are not here to discipline you. We came for a more constructive and forward-looking dialogue.”
“….”
“For example, the duties an information officer will handle going forward.”
The stringent member commanded the room’s attention with his low voice. With the silence so thick that even breathing was barely audible, he captured everyone’s focus with just a few words.
“Information officer.”
“….”
“How much do you know about paramilitary operations?”
