Chapter 282: Situation at the Emerald River Camp
— Meanwhile —
At the Emerald River Camp detention tent.
The members of the vanguard expedition team were being held together inside a large detention tent. They received three meals a day and hadn’t been subjected to inhumane interrogation or torture, despite the fact that they had fallen into the hands of what appeared to be a backward civilization.
There was one thing they wanted to complain about, though. Every single meal consisted of plain mashed potatoes, as if the people detaining them were trying to make them lose their minds.
"Ugh... plain mashed potatoes again. Please... make it stop..." one of the female researchers complained, sounding as though she wanted to cry but had no tears left.
"Yeah, seriously. Is their agriculture so backward that they can’t grow anything besides potatoes?" another researcher chimed in.
The group of researchers continued complaining, but in contrast, the members of the vanguard team and the diplomats remained relatively calm, especially those who had worked in war zones, like Brandon Lee.
They were the least picky eaters because their jobs had taught them just how harsh life in a war zone could be.
"Captain... are they deliberately trying to break us? Sure, they bring us in for interrogation and ask some sensitive questions that we’re not allowed to answer under protocol, but they don’t seem to be trying very hard to get the answers either. Is this some new kind of torture?" one of the rookies on the vanguard team asked.
"Who knows." The captain shrugged as he scooped up a spoonful of mashed potatoes and ate without complaint.
While the group chatted and complained among themselves, the seal on the tent opened and two people walked in.
The first was a good looking blonde woman, and the second was a muscular man of African descent who stood over two meters tall.
"What?" Brandon Lee, the leader of the diplomatic team, uttered in confusion. He had never expected to meet two people with such familiar features.
"Err... who are you?" he asked. Brandon was a little shaken as he looked at the muscular man, who seemed to have a permanently grumpy expression.
"Ah! Hello, I’m Sarah Corner, a freelance reporter. And this big guy is Bob, one of the oldest people in this tent!" the blonde woman introduced herself and the muscular man beside her.
"Nice to meet you, Sarah." Brandon Lee shook Sarah’s hand before turning a wary gaze toward Bob.
Seeing this, Bob decided to take the initiative.
"I’m Bob. Nice to meet you, Mr. Lee," Bob said as he extended his hand.
"Oh! It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Bob." Brandon shook Bob’s hand, but his eyes drifted toward Bob’s clothing. He was wearing local attire in the style of ancient Chinese robes.
Brandon didn’t think much of it. Maybe the big guy’s clothes had been torn or lost, or something along those lines, so he had been given local clothing to wear.
"How may I help you?" Brandon asked.
"Oh, it’s nothing much. I just wanted to interview all of you. Don’t worry, I’ve already received permission from Ms. Youqi!" Sarah said cheerfully.
"Interview? Permission?" Brandon immediately caught those two key words.
This young woman claimed to be a reporter, and judging by her appearance, she seemed to be an American, just like them. As for the permission she mentioned, that meant she clearly didn’t share the same status as they did as prisoners.
Moreover, since she had received permission, it meant the people in authority here didn’t consider them much of a concern if they were willing to let a reporter interview them.
That woman in the black and red armor had only knocked out the vanguard team because they posed a threat. Once they had been disarmed, aside from the admittedly bland mashed potatoes, they had been treated humanely.
There had been no torture, no deprivation of food or water, and all the basic necessities needed to sustain life had been provided.
In other words, the people in charge here didn’t view them as a serious threat. At most, they seemed to be treating them like a group of illegal immigrants or something similar.
All of those thoughts passed through Brandon’s mind in a split second. He looked at the woman named Sarah Corner. She was clearly being treated differently by the authorities here. It was obvious, considering she was free to walk around with this big guy.
That meant she likely knew far more about the situation than anyone else in the tent.
"That’s fine, but we’d like to ask you a few questions as well," Brandon said.
"Okay, but let me ask mine first," Sarah replied.
Then she took a small recorder out of her pocket and pointed its microphone toward the group.
"First question. Since you’re here, that means you were sent to scout this place, survey its resources, or accomplish some other primary objective. So, what kind of resources brought you here, or what exactly are you looking for?"
The question was asked, but Brandon didn’t seem to know the answer and instead looked directly at the captain of the vanguard team.
"I’m sorry, that’s classified information," the captain replied.
Sarah puffed up her lips and rolled her eyes, clearly fed up with that kind of answer.
"Next question. Back at your base, what discoveries have you made from the Leviathan’s carcass? Did you develop a new type of drug? A cure for previously incurable diseases? Or what kind of new materials have you discovered?"
"That’s classified information," the captain replied once again.
Sarah glared at the captain before calming herself down and continuing with her questions.
"Is the military planning to establish a permanent base on this side of the portal?"
"That’s classified information."
"How many people are scheduled to cross the portal after your team?"
"That’s classified information."
"Is this expedition intended to establish diplomatic relations, or is it the first stage of military occupation?"
"That’s classified information."
"Pardon my rudeness, but are you a broken recorder that can only repeat the same sentence?" Sarah asked, her smile twitching as she was about to lose her temper.
"No," the captain replied.
Sarah glared daggers at the captain. If looks could kill, he would have died ten times over.
Seeing that the reporter had no intention of asking any more questions, the captain decided to take control of the conversation.
"Interview over. Now it’s our turn to ask you a few questions."
"What are these people? Are they the government here? What is this place?" he asked.
"I don’t know," Sarah replied, looking at the captain with a challenging smile.
Seeing the reporter’s expression, the captain knew she was taking petty revenge on him, so he decided to play his trump card.
"I advise you to cooperate, Ms. Corner. You are an American citizen, and I am acting on behalf of the United States government here."
"Why? Are you going to call the FBI on me? Or are you going to play the authority card? Don’t forget, this place is outside the United States. You have no authority here!" Sarah challenged.
"You’re right. We have no authority here. But once we’re back, I can make sure you’ll be making daily visits to your local police station, receiving weekly visits from the FBI, and being monitored by the CIA around the clock. Are you sure you want to test that?" the captain asked in a solemn tone.
"You!" Sarah gritted her teeth.
At that moment, Bob finally spoke.
"Oh... if we go back, right? Don’t forget that whether you even get the chance to go back depends on us. Are you sure you want to test that?"
Hearing this, Sarah’s smug smile returned.
"That’s right! Just like Bob said, if you don’t play nice, you can forget about going back!"
The captain turned to look at Bob.
"You’re bluffing, big guy. I know you’re not a native here. You just arrived here, just like the rest of us. If you want to go back, you should cooperate with us."
Bob snorted.
"You’re right. I’m not a native here. But so what? I’ve lived here for more than three hundred years, and I work for the people detaining you right now."
"You’re joking." The captain didn’t believe him.
"He’s not," Sarah chimed in. "The first time I met him, he was already here, working for a guy named Wei Chen, who seems to be a big shot around here. That guy even has a strange technique that lets him read other people’s minds! Fortunately for you, he isn’t here. Otherwise, he wouldn’t even need to ask any questions!" Sarah said, as though she were one of Wei Chen’s lackeys using her boss’s reputation to threaten them.
The captain fell silent. There was a clear hint of hesitation in his eyes, but he still didn’t believe it.
Seeing this, Bob decided to show the captain something. He reached for a nearby helmet. It was a Kevlar helmet, the type typically worn by special forces.
Bob held it in one hand and slowly tightened his grip.
Crush!!!
Within just a few seconds, the Kevlar helmet was crushed into a mangled mass of plastic, steel, and military grade fiber. Bob even compressed the entire thing into a ball no larger than a golf ball.
"Now... do you believe that I’ve lived here for more than three hundred years?" Bob asked.
The captain gulped before turning to look at Sarah.
"Ms. Corner... would you mind interviewing us again?"