On the USS Obama, a banquet was in progress.
Ladies and gentlemen in evening gowns danced on the dance floor. Politicians and businessmen standing next to the long banquet table clinked glasses with each other and chatted eagerly. Among them were shipowners, businessmen, members of Congress, and bureaucrats in government agencies.
Such banquets were common on USS Obama, as if something worth celebrating happened every few days. Even if most of the poor on the cargo ships struggled to survive, it did not prevent them from squeezing out a little bit of supplies to enjoy life.
"… Have you heard about Senator Bansal's proposal? He actually proposed to Congress to close the ranch of the Lahaina and release a thousand two-headed Brahmins? Jesus Christ, I have never heard of such a ridiculous proposal! "
"Now that anyone can sneak into our Congress, we must tighten the threshold to become a member."
"But we can't ignore the opinions of a thousand Indian Americans. If they go on strike, it will be very troublesome for us."
"I heard that recently …"
"Failed? Are you kidding me? USN used all their strength and crushed them like ants! "
"I heard that the USN Marines scrapped more than 500 NS-90 robots. Our planes have succeeded, but we are still a step too late."
"They won't be so lucky every time. Let's drink to the future of the United States!"
"Haha, cheers!"
"…"
Zhou Guoping looked at the plates full of charcoal grilled two-headed Brahmin beef, the mutant codfish burger topped with mud crab sauce, and the goblets filled with quantum champagne. He sighed helplessly and felt that he had no appetite at all.
According to NAC standards, the style of this banquet could only be said to be extremely low. Not to mention anything else, at least at NAC banquets, canned food was never placed in the most conspicuous position on the banquet table, and one had to show identification when receiving the meal.
Of course, it was not their fault. After all, for these survivors who drifted on the sea and had no fixed residence, canned food could really be regarded as a luxury.
He now missed the days in the Sixth Street.
At least in terms of food, NAC never treated its own people badly.
When he arrived on USS Obama, these people not only did not abuse him, but they treated him as an interesting character … or a rare animal. President Sean specifically allowed him to attend the banquet on the aircraft carrier as the "NAC Governor" and even allowed him to live on the aircraft carrier as a state guest.
"… We are a multicultural country. As long as you are willing to accept our ideals, you are one of us. Torturing prisoners of war is the work of barbarians, not us. " That was President Sean's original words. Although he spoke in a dignified tone, in Zhou Guoping's ears, it was no different from a fart.
He hadn't seen any of his compatriots since he boarded the ship.
Obviously, the 3,000 colonists were not sent to the Merika fleet at all. As for where they were sent to, he had some idea.
Although this group of Americans moved factories, farms, and even farmland to the deck of the freighter, this fleet was not all of the United States. After all, there was no recyclable waste on the ship, and there were no resources to be mined.
The source of supplies for the Merika fleet mainly relied on the concentration camp in Panama, where criminals, slaves, and captives from South American survivor settlements were held. They were engaged in the most basic work of scavenging, mining, and resource recovery.
Zhou Guoping was 100% sure that the 3,000 colonial residents had been sent there, and even the more than 30,000 slaves he redeemed were likely sent there … even if most of those slaves were native-born North Americans.
At this moment, a familiar and annoying voice came from the side. He saw a man in a suit and leather shoes walking towards him with a smile while holding a goblet.
"Haha, dear Mr. Zhou Guoping, how have you been recently? Are you used to life on the ship?"
Seeing this face, Governor-General Zhou's mood, which was originally quite good, was instantly not so good.
The person in front of him was none other than the President of the United States of America at Sea and the captain of USS Obama, Sean Luke.
Although the USN Marines suffered a lot at the hands of the NAC some time ago, at this moment, there was no anger on Sean's face. Instead, with a bright smile, he raised his goblet to Zhou Guoping from two tables away.
As a president, he needed to show enough grace in front of the captives to win the favor of the "domestic" neutrals.
Although Zhou Guoping could feel from afar that the president looked down on him from the bottom of his heart.
"Thank you for your consideration." Out of helplessness, he patiently raised his goblet and said in a stiff tone, "I'm fine. Except for occasional seasickness, everything else is fine."
"Is that so?" Sean laughed, "I hope you can enjoy this banquet, for the victory that is about to come."
"Then I'll have to have a drink or two." Zhou Guoping grinned and said sarcastically without a trace.
He didn't hear the sarcasm in Zhou Guoping's tone. Perhaps he heard it but didn't care. The president had already turned to the guests who gathered around him and began to chat with them with a smile.
Zhou Guoping, who was forgotten in the corner, put down his goblet, walked outside the cabin, leaned against the guardrail, and lit a low-quality cigarette.
The soldiers on duty outside turned their bodies slightly and stared at him without concealment.
Zhou Guoping didn't care about the vigilant gazes. He planned to go back after getting some fresh air. He could hear some news from the conversations of those people.
However, at this moment, the half-smoked cigarette suddenly fell from his mouth into the sea.
Pretending that the cigarette was blown away by the sea breeze, Zhou Guoping lowered his head to hide the ecstasy on his face. The soldiers monitoring him did not notice anything unusual and still stood motionless on duty.
Just now, an electric current sound with a hint of static suddenly appeared in his mind.
"This is USS Parrot … Is this Mr. Governor?"
…
A week had passed since AS Order arrived on the West Coast, and three days had passed since the power armor team set off for the desert.
In this week, almost every day, a small USN plane would break into the colony's radar detection area, launch a long-range air-to-air missile at AS Order, and then turn back before approaching the range of the colony's anti-air firepower.
This kind of harassment was meaningless. Conventional air-to-air missiles at such a long range, even without the use of ground-based anti-air weapons, the airship's built-in laser point defense weapons were enough to destroy the missiles from a distance.
"The number of F-79s they have should be very limited." He put down the binoculars, narrowed his eyes, and looked in the direction of the flying team's departure. "If I had extra planes in my hands, I would definitely take the risk."
As long as they broke through the blockade of the ground firepower network and replaced the enemy's "aircraft carrier" with a few planes, the benefits would be quite huge. However, these fighters did not dare to rush into the NAC's firepower network. Other than checking in every day in the West Coast airspace, they did not make any other moves.
It was obvious that the loss of five aircrafts was a huge blow to them.
"What are they waiting for?" Zheng Shanhe frowned.
"A gust of wind." After a pause, Jiang Chen smiled and then said, "Or it could be a hurricane, a tornado, or a lightning storm."
Slightly taken aback, Zheng Shanhe didn't react at first. After a full two seconds, he looked at Jiang Chen in shock.
"You, you mean …!"
"That's right." Jiang Chen nodded, and his slightly narrowed eyes flashed with a dangerous light. "Now the National Guard and the Minuteman are on our side, and the troops are stationed in the camp next to the fortress. If the USN plane flies around here every day, then they should be able to discover this. "
For USN, the survivors on the West Coast had already stood on the opposite side and became an obstacle to their revival of the United States.
In that case, since they had already found the West Coast Meteorological Monitoring Center first, it was obviously a more convenient choice to use weather weapons to wash the ground. As for why the USN hadn't done this yet, it could only be understood that it took a certain amount of time to activate the weather weapon, or certain conditions were needed to summon a large-scale natural disaster.
Now they could only pray that the power armor forces sent to the Nevada desert could snatch the West Coast Meteorological Monitoring Center from the USN before the USN launched a weather strike …
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