Music for this Chapter(scenes in the hospital)

OR1-EP1: Rainbow Nation (4)

By the time Gene Smilas had dealt with the chaos on the street, it was already the next morning. He left his job and went straight to the nearby hospital to visit the model citizen he had recently met. The hospital has been surrounded by police cars and armored vehicles. Both wounded soldiers and civilians who have been accidentally injured have been sent here for rescue and treatment. Some people's injuries have become so severe that they are unable to recover, so the doctors simply put them in the bags. The bearded officer bypassed his subordinates and reporters who were about to ask him some questions, and took the elevator from the underground parking lot to the door of a ward. The three officers were playing poker at the door. When the officer arrived, they all threw the poker on the ground. Smilas didn't care about his subordinates' dereliction of duty. He observed the internal situation through the window of the ward and asked:

"How is that person?"

"We said we planned to give him a thorough medical examination, but his physical fitness really surprised us." The officer nearest to Smilas picked up the playing cards on the ground. "We injected him with a powerful tranquilizer. But he didn't really fall asleep until two hours later."

In the melee that took place last night, Smilas, who was sent by the defense forces to suppress sabotage activities, found a man who claimed to be Michael McNeil near the place where the fighting broke out. This person may be a nearby citizen. He was involved in the battle for some reason after the battle. For Smilas, cleaning up these natives without basic combat skills is a simple task. After the crackdown ended, he immediately went to the trustee to investigate the identity of the citizen. To his surprise, the records of the local traffic management department and other related departments indicated that Michael McNeil never existed. Smilas' first reaction was that McNeil might be a foreign spy. He made an excuse to let McNeil go to the hospital for examination, and he went to the nearby streets to inquire about the situation.

"Sir, the Guardian officers reported that they had seen this man selling newspapers on the street five days ago." The soldier who was entrusted by Smilas to investigate returned and reported, "Except for the surrounding residents, no people have seen him anywhere before. We guess he may have entered the country illegally from a foreign country."

Foreign country, needless to say, is the Britannian Empire. Since the French Revolution, the successive monarchs of Britannia have carried out brutal and arbitrary rule. Almost every year, many Britannian civilians or slaves fled to the EU. In the age of intense internal strife, even the nobles will seek refuge in the EU. In the EU, English is only spoken in England, and McNeil's accent is not like the British at all, but more like a native Britannian. However, this kind of speculation lacks evidence, and it is a bit wrong to infer the identity of an unknown stranger based on accent alone.

Smilas came to Africa voluntarily for the sake of making meritorious deeds. If he cannot achieve merits commensurate with such self-exile, he would rather return to Europe. The more the natives or other opposition parties use force to fight, the more he can use the heads of these people to build his path to the pinnacle of life, but the road still seems to be long. From the bottom of his heart, he yearned for a new war to break out, preferably a full-scale war between the EU and the Britannian Empire. He will get a chance to be recorded in the history books and become the next Napoleon Bonaparte.

Smilas looked from a distance to the street where the black smoke was still emerging. There might be hundreds of people crowding to claim the bodies of relatives and friends, which had nothing to do with him. Aboriginal, African Britannians, no matter who is the winner, he will return to Europe alive to continue his career. Even if South Africa is in chaos, it will not overlap with his life. His reverie was interrupted by the deep cough behind him, and it turned out that McNeil, who had just walked out of the ward, came to him.

"Please sit down." Smilas pointed to the chair in the corridor, "I have something to confirm with you."

"If you really want to ask me some privacy questions, just put it bluntly, there is no need to secretly investigate by yourself after giving me anesthetics." McNeil exposed his disguise, "I have a clear conscience, there is nothing worthy of your investigation."

Smilas was angry for no reason. The young man in front of him was about his age, but with an unnatural indifference. He wanted McNeil to show certain fierce emotions, whether it was obedience or confrontation, it was better than this kind of painless indifference.

"Where are you from?"

"England." McNeil replied. "Otherwise, could it be France or Italy?"

"...Nonsense, the English accent is not like that at all." Smilas sneered. "I have dealt with these people. Each of them speaks their own set of English, but they can communicate with each other. Of course, based on my experience of reading news reports, your accent is more like a Britannian's."

McNeil smiled awkwardly: "If you insist on thinking so, I can't produce enough reliable evidence to refute."

"This is not a shame, Mr. McNeil." Smilas thought he had grasped the other's weakness. "Listen, although there are all kinds of strange local rules here in Africa, we always treat you like compatriots in Europe, many famous and successful people have escaped from the empire. I don't understand why you are so secretive about your origin. In my opinion, you are just stating that you have escaped from a totalism regime by chance, and not admitting a criminal record."

"If I use this status, the problem is even more serious." McNeil said seriously, "If I say that I am a native EU citizen, maybe you will only suspect that I have worked as a security guard, police or militia before; however, once you think that I am a stowaway or exile from the Britannian Empire, I will always carry a suspicious spy tag on me. The former soldier of your country and the former soldier of an enemy country are two different concepts."

McNeil's words reminded Smilas of some previously known dangerous cases. The EU cannot carefully review the experience of every exile. Those who are willing to come to seek refuge are freedom fighters, and some of these people are the undercover agents of the Britannian Empire. The spies hidden among the exiles once established a huge intelligence network in the EU. Such intelligence activities have been carried out for more than ten years before being discovered. The EU was furious across the country, and public protests forced the Council to pass related bills. In the future, they can repatriate or violently deport those who are suspected of collaborating with the enemy or who have violated EU's laws.

"Mr. McNeil, please trust me. We have never been interested in your past experience and background, but we have to figure out why an English-speaking person suddenly appeared in a nearby neighborhood somehow. The police around the city don't remember that someone like you entered." Smilas took out a document from the bag beside him, "But the reason I am eager to find out the truth is that someone like you has something beyond ordinary. Unemployed vagrants who are skilled in soldier combat skills cannot wander in the city for a long time without legal identification materials-once you are considered a Britannian exile, in the current situation of international tension, your fate is conceivable."

McNeil glanced at the materials provided by Smilas. The officer used some methods to forge a set of documents that were sufficiently fake to allow him to live temporarily in South Africa as a legal identity. McNeil doesn't know Smilas' motives, and there must be sinister intentions behind the unprovoked kindness.

"Let me guess, what are you going to get in exchange for these documents?"

"My chief thinks that the bullet is the model used by Britannian firearms. He guessed that Britannian mercenaries are jointly planning sabotage operations with the indigenous people." Smilas was worried, "South African indigenous issues are always very serious. In recent years, it has been serious enough to affect public order. Governor-general Herzog has also considered many ways. Whether it is negotiation or the use of violent means to clean up, we shall do what must be done, but no matter which one he will choose, a reasonable explanation must be given to the public."

McNeil smelled a sense of danger. The South African defense forces does not want to be in charge, neither does the Guardian forces, and the issue of indigenous rebellion must be resolved. Presumably these decision makers have decided to replace them with outsiders who are not part of the formal sector to deal with the difficult situation.

"He can give orders directly. The Governor-general's power here is much greater than that of any local administrative officials of the same level." McNeil said calmly.

"Yes, but we all know that Governor-general Herzog has greater ambitions, instead of going home for retirement after finishing this term. If he has ruined himself or even the African Britannians he represents because of his indiscretion, it will not only mean the end of his own future, maybe he can't resign alive." Smilas explained helplessly, "This matter is a semi-open secret in South Africa, but any citizen who pays a little attention to the news will realize that the Governor-general's plan is very big."

The elevator door next to it opened, and a burly officer with five soldiers walked out from it. He saw Smilas who was talking to McNeil in a chair, and walked quickly towards the two of them, shouting:

"Alors, vous êtes ici maintenant. Quand la main-d'oeuvre que je vous ai demandé de trouver sera-t-elle en place?"

Smilas quickly got up and saluted: "C'est ça. Je prévois de trouver des personnes similaires pour recevoir une formation, en échange de la citoyenneté officielle."

McNeil looked at the middle-aged officer with a scar on his face, thinking that this giant man was probably not good at dealing with others. Before he could implement his original plan, he was forced to be involved in another conflict that he did not understand at all.

"D'accord, je crois en ton plan." Smilas' boss patted his military cap, making Smilas very nervous, "Lorsque le personnel est rassemblé, mélangez-les avec le peuple écossais. Nous ne pouvons plus perdre de temps à encercler et réprimer les damnés indigènes."

"Les écossais?" Smilas was surprised this time, "Que font-ils ici?"

"Qui sait? Il y a plus de deux cents membres du conseil à Paris, et chaque faction a son propre ensemble de plans pour la question sud-africaine. Peut-être quarante personnes ont mis leurs plans en pratique." The colonel said dissatisfiedly, "J'espère juste que l'administration militaire ne les associera pas aux Anglais. S'il n'y a plus d'Irlandais, nous devrons faire face à une guerre civile avant que les aborigènes ne soient éliminés."

After listening to Smilas' explanation, McNeil smiled knowingly. He was not a real Englishman and would not dislike such cold jokes. According to the history that McNeil learned, after Napoleon Bonaparte captured the British Isles, the United Kingdom government fled to the America, and the area was dismembered into multiple independent autonomous republics. Although the above three places tried to establish the Commonwealth of England, Scotland and Ireland, they finally failed completely and maintained the current divided independence. Ironically, however, Napoleon Bonaparte, who conquered all of Europe, was overthrown by the people who originally supported him for trying to take the last step. If Napoleon really succeeds, maybe EU should be called the Europa United Empire. The identity created artificially by the fragile common rule was disintegrated and reshaped by the European continent for more than a hundred years, and now no Scots believe that they belong to the same country as the English.

"Are you Colonel Karl Duttmann?"

"Yes." Colonel Duttmann responded, "At present, the task of destroying the indigenous people falls on us, and the defense forces have a heavy task, and they cannot use all their energy to deal with the indigenous people-unless we have evidence to convince Paris to send troops." He smiled and said to McNeil: "I guess these indigenous people are supported by the Britannians, as long as you can successfully find evidence, regardless of the outcome of this eradication, Governor-general Herzog will always be a legitimate reason for the army to continue its suppression." The officer with the scar on his face spoke unexpectedly and kindly, "Sir, since you are so active in this kind of adventure, I temporarily decided to entrust you to command others."

"Sorry, before I talk about how to go deep into the jungle and the tribe, I have another thing to do." McNeil remembered the incident that he first used as a breakthrough point. "Adalbert Herzog was accused of murder, have you heard of it?"

"I heard it a long time ago, but it doesn't have much to do with us." Colonel Duttmann didn't care at all. "This kind of thing should be for the Governor-general to worry about himself. Since he was a high official in Paris, it is enough to interfere in the trial."

"No, this is a conspiracy." McNeil wanted to prove his assumptions. "Although local violence has existed before, the recent abnormal increase only started after Governor-general Herzog took office. Besides, the conflict between Adalbert Herzog and the deceased was far from serious enough to force him to kill others when this would cause trouble for his father."

Colonel Duttmann looked at McNeil like a monster.

"Citizen, where were you born?"

"Institute." McNeil replied.

"I understand, maybe some rumors are true." The colonel seemed to be thinking, "Then, I will give you ten days. If you can't do it, give up immediately. We don't want Governor-general Herzog's personal problems to give the army a disadvantage in public opinion."

TBC