Darkstone Code

Outside the President's Mansion, Mr. Truman took out a pack of cigarettes, pulled out three, handed them to the two people beside him, and lit one for himself.

"Sixty days, do we need that long?" he asked the Assistant Minister of Defense beside him, who shook his head.

Considering the time from mobilization to conclusion, it shouldn't need that long, let alone the pure naval battle process in reality.

According to the tactical research office at Navy Headquarters, from outbreak to conclusion, the naval battle could be over in roughly no more than thirty-six hours, and the Federation could achieve a comprehensive victory.

They equipped Preton's Pirate Group with the main warships currently serving in the Gafura Royal Navy and expanded the intelligence about the number of these pirates' warships and their combat proficiency.

In other words, this righteous battle to eliminate pirates in the eyes of everyone was, from the very beginning, viewed by Navy Headquarters as a collision with the Gafura Royal Navy.

However, the scale of this collision is not too large. Gafura can't afford to deploy their main combat group—it would be too foolish—but the Federation, on the other hand, can dispatch more warships and use their secret weapons.

With a prepared mind against an unprepared one, this war is impossible to lose!

Truman listened to the Assistant Minister of Defense's explanation with a calm expression. After hearing it, he nodded, "Go tell the generals to set harsher conditions, consider what to do if we face an unfavorable situation, and create more conditions that challenge ourselves."

"If we lose this time, whether it's the Navy or the Army, there will be no development for the next ten years!"

He spoke very seriously and earnestly. This war, which to most people seemed like a trivial effort to eliminate pirates, actually determined the Bail Federal's military fate and national destiny for the next ten years.

They could actually avoid it, but they couldn't. If they avoided it today, others would take advantage, and the Federation's international interests would suffer greatly; they have reasons they must fight. The only thing left to do now is to ensure all tactics and strategies are without flaw, and to strive to achieve all plans to the greatest extent possible.

After the Assistant Minister of Defense left, Mr. Truman glanced at the few remaining cigarettes in his hand, took a puff, and then dropped it on the ground, sending sparks flying.

He turned to the head of operations at the National Security Committee, saying, "Start taking action, it's time..."

As diplomatic negotiations progress, this war could erupt at any moment. In fact, Truman hopes to establish diplomatic relations smoothly, so the war will only remain as an elimination battle.

He doesn't want Nagariel to stand against the Federation. If a war between the two countries breaks out, Gafura will have a reason to intervene and, very likely, will side with Nagariel.

At that point, whether they're protecting allies or "seeking justice," they could deploy their main combat group against the Federation Navy in a full-fledged naval battle.

This is the worst outcome, but harboring any illusions in such major affairs is irresponsible to oneself and the state.

Therefore, from now on, the Security Committee needs to comprehensively purge domestic spies, which is a long-lasting process.

Although the Federation didn't participate in the recent World War, spies from various countries are quite common here. It's likely because, despite not joining the war, the Federation's developed economy and technology give it strong war potential, drawing attention.

In the past, as long as these spies didn't touch core secrets, the Security Committee wouldn't deal with them, as that was the Federation's policy back then.

Isolating itself, not exhibiting aggression or offensiveness, purely defensive—but now things are different.

With this decision finalized, the entire state machinery started moving. If someone paid attention to the naval bases along the East Ocean coast, they'd notice frequent movements of warships and many tugboats moving in and out there.

"They seem to have decided...", murmured a nondescript middle-aged man standing outside Sirius Port, watching tugboats leaving the navy port in the distance.

He was dressed very ordinarily—not particularly fashionable, but not outdated either. He was fishing, and beside him was a young man, who appeared to be his child or junior.

Both were fishing. At such a damn time, fishing not only helps forget one's troubles but also fills the stomach.

There were quite a few people fishing by the sea, but these two were noticeably different, as they kept observing the navy port's movements, coming here punctually every day, recording the types and numbers of warships entering and leaving daily.

The older angler was somewhat curious, "What exactly are these tugboats doing?" He seemed to ask the person beside him or perhaps himself. These days, these tugboats are constantly coming and going, apparently not doing anything—yet somehow one feels they're not really doing nothing.

In fact, these tugboats are towing those submarines. It may sound...a bit magical, but that's the truth.

While the submarines designed by Sheep Ship already meet current naval combat needs and some strength requirements, their endurance during stealth missions is still somewhat disappointing.

Also, to keep these secret weapons concealed, the Navy uses tugboats to first tow these submarines to the pre-arranged sea areas, where they can then surface and navigate on their own.

To outsiders, these tugboats indeed appear to be doing nothing but moving in and out. However, these two spies instinctively felt something was amiss.

"Note it down, this information might be crucial..." The older one turned back, squinting slightly.

Today's port seemed a bit unusual; some unfamiliar people were on the pier extending from the sandy beach.

Sirius Port, as a deep-water military port directly accessing the East Ocean, has long been under the watchful eyes of spies from various countries.

At least thirty percent of those fishing on this pier come from different nations, all with the same purpose: monitoring the military port's activities.

They had been lurking here for nearly five years, meeting the people here daily. He knew exactly who would appear and their names.

However, as he was slightly inattentive, several vehicles stopped at the end of the boardwalk, and some people, who looked like soldiers but also had some other style, got out of the cars.

They might have been exposed.

This spy from Gafura wasn't panicked. In the past, there were instances where peers accidentally got exposed. Besides being interrogated and whipped a few times, nothing particularly frightening happened. In fact, at the end, the Federation's counterintelligence division would even buy tickets for the spies to return home!

This made some spies lurking within the Federation not as sensitive and vigilant as those in other places.

"Almost time, don't trouble our Federation chicks." The older angler, smiling, packed up his fishing line, glancing at the hook where the bait had disappeared, and wrapped it with a grin.

The bucket next to him already had three or four fish, enough for them to have a sumptuous dinner tonight.

The young man beside him started packing, too. Possibly experiencing such a situation for the first time, he was a bit nervous, and during his bending over, a pen fell from the pocket on his chest.

He used this pen to record much classified information. However, they weren't afraid of those things being discovered since they were encoded. Simply reading them would appear as nothing more than a diary; only those knowing how to decrypt could understand the correct content.

The young man bent over, his blood pressure slightly increased, causing his face to flush a little. While bending to pick up the pen wedged in the board cracks, a foot stepped on it.

The young man paused, looking up along the bright shoe reflecting his shadow. He saw a pair of high-quality socks—discernible by the material—and a pair of dark gray patterned trousers, worn standardly by government officials even in hot weather, and then saw a person wearing sunglasses.

He glanced around; they had been surrounded, and the agent playing his father was also under control.

The older spy gave him a signal, slowly raising his hands and straightening his body with some resentment in his eyes.

To be honest, before becoming a spy and being deployed to the Federation, he underwent much militarized training.

He masters combat techniques, various vehicles and firearms, lock picking...

He masters nearly everything he should, considering himself akin to those mystical agents in novels or TV—omnipotent, always gracefully escaping crises like a dancing gentleman.

But now, all he could do was raise his hands. No one gave him the chance to exhibit those skills, which made him indignant. If given a chance, he wouldn't meekly surrender.

A gunstock was fiercely slammed into his nape, turning his vision black and losing balance, almost falling into the water.

With a directive to take them away, the two were escorted off.

The Security Committee's operation group leader responsible for the action glanced back at the gathering and murmuring crowd on the pier before getting into the car, smirking while gesturing at them. This gesture caused a noticeable change in their expressions.

For they all understood among themselves, many were spies, all coming from various other nations.

The Federation National Security Committee didn't arrest them, not out of ignorance, but due to a lack of necessity.

For a moment, everyone's thoughts became chaotic, sensing the Federation's attitude might no longer be what it was.