Chapter 722: The Disintegrating Federation

Chapter 722: The Disintegrating Federation

North Island.

As the capital of the Federation, this was the largest island in the southern seas, and also the most prosperous.

Though its population barely exceeded ninety thousand, it housed the Federation’s largest heavy industrial base and shipyard.

Counting the destroyer *Glory*, which had already sunk into the sea, nine of the Federation’s thirteen vessels were built here, while the remaining four submarines were constructed at the submarine factories on Peaceful Isle and Coral City.

After seizing control of the Presidential Palace and the Navy Headquarters by force, Charas, under the support of the Federation Marine Corps, declared himself the new president and delivered his inaugural address via radio.

“……It is with a heavy heart that I inform you all: our President has committed an unforgivable crime of treason.”

“At the very moment when our fleet had achieved absolute superiority and was on the verge of final victory, he intended to overturn the crimes committed by our enemies! He sought to use fabricated, distorted evidence to destroy the unity we had so painstakingly forged.”

“I will never allow such a thing to happen, even if that man was once the one I respected most.”

“Hunger, disease, forced labor, the suppression of dissenting voices… as long as you wear that blue coat, everything is legal. Go ask your fathers and grandfathers—they will tell you what those hermit crabs used to be like! Go ask them! Who really built the artificial island completed in the fiftieth year of the Wasteland Era? Was it those things that suddenly popped up half a century later, or was it us, who have lived here from the very beginning?”

“They were merely lucky enough to be born in a shelter, and the Prosperity Era became theirs—everything built with the tools of that era became their patent. And we, who endured generation after generation of suffering outside, who rose from the ruins, became monkeys in need of education.”

“As if we were the ones who appeared out of thin air, as if we were eating their food and using their things, as if we were living in settlements they built—because our fathers weren’t great enough, because our fathers never lived a single second in that Prosperity Era! Go ask the old, useless things in your homes—ask them if that’s how it really was!”

“What we must settle is never just an ocean current power station—it is everything from the past century! They think that power station was their achievement, that only they are the remnants of the Human Union, that only they deserve to inherit the Union’s legacy. And our sweat and blood, like our opinions, are insignificant. We are merely the livestock for their reconstruction of Utopia. So let them take their arrogance and crawl back underground! That Utopia never had a place for us!”

Those impassioned words echoed across the square before the Presidential Palace, through the shipyards, through the military barracks, and through the settlements of North Island…

People stopped their work and gathered around the radios. On silent faces, hatred and rage began to kindle.

Charas had not prepared a speech, nor did he need one. Oratory was to him an innate talent.

Moreover, he had been one of the drafters of the original declaration—one could even call him a founding father of the Federation—and a hardliner with a strong voice in the military.

President Mongo, though serving as the Federation’s Navy Commander, held that position only by the declaration—or rather, by the duties assigned by the constitution. It was not a position the soldiers had sincerely thrust upon him.

That man, in both character and conduct, was a nearly “pedantic” bureaucrat—so thought both the officers and Charas himself.

As a conservative, he might have enjoyed the support of most survivors and establishment figures, but his standing in the military was far inferior to Charas’s.

And indeed, that man had done a foolish thing.

But it was neither turning a blind eye to the ocean current power station nor appointing Charas as Chief of Staff. It was attempting, through a political gamble, to fuse two factions that had never reached an agreement.

Both the conservatives and the radicals needed a Federation, but their motives were fundamentally different. The former sought equality in identity and political rights; the latter sought to break free from the shackles of the “ghosts” of the Prosperity Era.

Those who sat atop the great ships and cannons had never said they wanted a president who followed rules. Their ambitions extended far beyond a mere Federation—far beyond serving as the Federation’s wall.

This could have been resolved through negotiation and mutual compromise, but a military and political adventure had shelved all disputes.

This Federation, born of injustice, was like a handful of sand pressed together by a hand—never a true stone, and without enough time to become one.

The moment the hand that held it loosened, it would scatter back to its original form.

Of course, Charas admitted he had also done a foolish thing: he had told so many lies that he had begun to believe them himself.

When he signed that declaration, he should have clearly recognized that he was an opportunist, with no chance to take things slowly.

Once the war ended, the President would open the eye he had once closed and restart the investigation into the sinking of the ocean current power station.

Charas, who had helped the Torch Church cover up the truth, would surely be purged—and so would all the officers involved.

The new authorities would certainly do this. After all, by purging the real criminals, they could sever ties with the past and take the hands of the residents of Shelter 70 into a new era.

As for Charas and his supporters, no one would thank them for their contributions to the Federation’s unity. They would only face iron bars for the rest of their lives.

But precisely because of this, everyone—directly or indirectly—involved in the sinking of the ocean current power station was his natural ally!

They had to choose him.

They could only choose him!

Only if he won could the correct memory be shaped, and only then would they not become the fools who lifted a rock only to drop it on their own feet!

Gazing at the ignited pupils beneath the podium, Charas announced the final outcome in a calm and solemn tone.

“……President Mongo refused to accept the judgment of the law. Not only did he put up stubborn resistance, but he also attempted to stage a coup. He has now been shot dead by our soldiers.”

“The declaration signed by the criminal is no longer valid. A new cabinet will draft a new code. For now, I will serve as Acting President.”

“Until we achieve final victory!”

……

Peaceful Isle.

This picturesque island was home to just over fifty thousand people, yet it housed the largest naval logistics base in the Federation.

Half of the island’s residents were active-duty Navy personnel and their families, or at least those engaged in naval logistics.

Of course, there were also some refugees from Coral City.

The earliest shipyard in the southern seas was also located here, and the first transport ships and seabed mining vessels set sail from this place.

If Ring Island was the first artificial island built by the survivors of the southern seas, then this was the first natural island to ignite the spark of industry—even before Shelter 70 opened its gates. And it was from the parts produced on this island that the underwater miracle of Coral City was born, and later the heavy industrial center and large shipyard of North Island.

But now, this island—the first to kindle the flame of industry—was covered by another invisible, burning fire.

First came Captain Dongwen’s last words, then the news of the destroyer *Glory*’s sinking, and then Chief of Staff Charas’s lie-filled inaugural address.

A series of horrifying events were strung together, igniting the fury of the soldiers and officers in the base.

Until the dock sentry received Captain Dongwen’s last words from the commander of the maritime patrol, many in this naval base were still supporters of Charas, even excusing his actions as “for the unity of the Federation.”

But when the absurd news arrived that “the *Glory* was lost due to a mutiny among its crew,” few were willing to believe the lies spilling from that man’s mouth.

No one doubted that he had gone mad. For his own selfish desires, he did not hesitate to set the Federation fleet against itself.

Those who followed him were also madmen. Officers loyal to the constitution immediately acted, throwing Charas’s confidants and accomplices into prison.

Until they confirmed that these men would not join Charas in his folly and had deeply repented their past words and deeds, they would not release them from the dark cells.

At the same time as Charas’s inaugural address, General Li Minghui—the Federation’s Vice President, Vice Commander of the Navy, and highest commander of the Peaceful Isle Naval Base—delivered a public speech over the island’s military radio.

“……Just now, we have witnessed together the darkest and most shameful page in the history of the Federation. In a disgraceful betrayal, we have not only lost the *Glory* and its two hundred brave young men, not only lost our President, but also lost the declaration we jointly signed and the dignity we had maintained for barely four months.”

“Charas tries to lead our Federation into a bottomless abyss with lies. This war is no longer a war—it is his tool for seizing power and eliminating dissidents. Now this ‘Laken’ in human skin has finally revealed his greedy appetite and fangs, trying to drag us into that abyss.”

“We will never compromise with beasts, nor will we accept a peace maintained by lies. What we need is true unity!”

“From this day forward, Peaceful Isle will no longer recognize the legitimacy of the North Island authorities! At the same time, we call upon the survivors of all other islands to unite and fight alongside us! For our future! For all survivors living in these waters!”

At the end of his speech, he announced the establishment of the Peaceful Isle authorities, assumed the positions of Acting President and Commander of the Federation Fleet, and declared war on the rebels of North Island in the name of the constitution.

Compared to Charas’s inaugural address, General Li Minghui’s speech was undoubtedly more hurried and lacked a bit of momentum.

Though legally he was the first in line for the acting presidency, unfortunately Charas had become the de facto ruler of North Island.

That man, though still bearing the title of president, held in his hands an authority that far exceeded the powers granted by the code. And the reason he succeeded in this was undoubtedly the support of the North Island officers—at least a portion of them!

Even if he did not want to face his former comrades-in-arms, Li Minghui could only make the most practical choice at the moment—declare the North Island authorities illegal in the name of the code and establish a new authority on Peaceful Isle.

He did not want to do this.

But he had no other choice.

If he surrendered to Charas, that man would surely purge him—the legal vice president—and arrange some charge to have him killed.

Just as that man had unscrupulously killed President Mongo and Captain Dongwen…

Having witnessed the entire coup from start to finish, Muda never imagined that the memory card he had brought to Anle Island would stir up such a storm, enough to split the entire Federation.

What surprised him even more was that he himself had inexplicably become a member of the Anle Island military government council drafting the new declaration.

Within the Federation, he belonged to the faction that was relatively close to Vault 70, a marginalized figure in the eyes of the federal authorities.

After all, it was Administrator Sun Yuechi who had originally separated the Maritime Patrol from the Federal Fleet and placed it under the command of the Ministry of Finance, which answered to the Cabinet.

This had, to some extent, delayed the arrival of the crisis, but it also branded the Maritime Patrol with the political label of the "Vault faction."

However, the Anle Island authorities clearly had no time to dwell on such matters.

Dealing with the military pressure from the North Island was the most urgent issue they needed to resolve.

Even if it was just a few speedboats and minelayers, they had to do everything in their power to secure them...

At the Anle Island Naval Base, in the operations conference room, a meeting that would determine the future of the Federation was underway in tense deliberation.

Muda had been summoned halfway through the meeting, so by the time he entered, almost every seat at the conference table was already filled.

A tense and oppressive atmosphere hit him like a wave.

Glancing at the people seated around the table, he took an empty seat and lowered his voice, quietly asking the logistics director sitting beside him.

"How many people responded to our broadcast?"

The logistics director’s face was grim as he whispered back.

"Only four governors."

Muda was stunned. He hadn’t expected that those standing on the side of legal legitimacy would have such weak appeal. He couldn’t help but ask further.

"What about the fleet?"

"We have one cruiser, two destroyers, three submarines... Not counting any civilian ships we might retrofit, that’s all we have for now."

"...And them?"

"One battleship, one cruiser, three destroyers, and one attack submarine." As if sensing how dire the situation was, the logistics director added a conciliatory remark, "But the submarine manufacturing plant is on our side. We’re not entirely without advantages."

Overhearing their exchange, another officer sitting nearby cleared his throat softly and interjected in a low voice.

"Yes, we’re not entirely without advantages, but what little we have is nothing compared to our disadvantages. Without Coral City’s reactor manufacturing plant, we can’t produce fusion-powered submarines with better stealth capabilities, and conventional submarines are hardly useful in formal combat... Besides, the Federation’s largest shipyards and ammunition factories are all in Charlas’s hands."

Muda couldn’t help but swallow hard.

"...Tough."

The officer sighed.

"Indeed."

The largest industrial bases and shipyards were all in the north. The northern islands had enough population, technology, and the industrial capacity to turn that technology into war machines.

The longer this dragged on, the worse it would be for the Anle Island authorities.

Even if they launched a hasty attack now, with just one cruiser, two destroyers, and three submarines from Anle Island, it would be nearly impossible to defeat the North Island fleet led by its flagship battleship.

Not to mention that there were still supporters of Charlas within their own ranks. Even if some had been thrown into prison, replacing them with new personnel would take time.

Of course, the North Island was in a similar state. Where there were those who backed Charlas, there were also those who supported the declaration and the democratically elected president.

Both the North Island and Anle Island were suffering the same growing pains brought on by chaos.

Whoever could first quell their internal turmoil and eliminate their opponent would become the new master of these waters.

"What about Ring Island? Any news?" Tapping his cigarette ash into the ashtray, Commander Li Minghui pondered for a moment before looking at his adjutant.

Ring Island was located at the westernmost part of the southern sea, near the Baiyue Strait. It sat directly behind the four islands under Anle Island’s jurisdiction and was also the most populous island in the Federation.

If that settlement sided with Charlas, the consequences would be unimaginable.

That was why they had to do everything possible to win it over to the Anle Island authorities.

The adjutant shook his head.

"The governor there is an opportunist—a fence-sitter, in other words. In his reply, he said he doesn’t want to take sides... I even get the feeling he might want to secede from the Federation and join the Alliance."

The commander frowned.

"Troublesome."

The adjutant sighed and nodded slightly.

"Yes."

Silence fell over the conference table.

Just then, an officer suddenly spoke up.

"Why don’t we bring the Alliance into our ranks?"

The moment these words were spoken, a stir rippled through the room. Nearly half of those present shot the speaker a look of surprise.

Including Muda, who had long ago taken money from the Alliance.

The adjutant sitting beside the commander furrowed his brow and couldn’t help asking,

"Is that appropriate?"

The Alliance’s land forces were indeed formidable, but they were far away, and their naval power was practically nonexistent.

Even if they had some small aircraft, he didn’t know how to evaluate such things—except to say that those people truly had no fear of death, willing to ride any bizarre contraption.

And even setting aside the potential ally’s strength, introducing an external force into the affairs of the southern sea region was itself a cause for concern.

Facing the crowd’s skepticism, the officer who had made the proposal continued in a serious tone.

"We have no choice. This is the only way to win. And while we hesitate, the Federation’s traitors have already enlisted the help of the Torch. If we keep hesitating, we’ll sink to the bottom of the sea clutching our principles."

Murmurs spread across the conference table.

Indeed.

Everyone sitting here knew at least a little about the inside story of the tidal power station’s destruction. If it had been mere speculation before, the recording left by Captain Dongwen had almost confirmed the collusion between the Charlas administration and the Torch Church.

It was with the tacit approval of the fleet stationed on the North Island that those mutants had been able to cross the Federation’s northern patrol zone and penetrate deep into its heartland.

At that moment, a destroyer captain spoke slowly.

"It’s not entirely unfeasible. The Alliance seems to have a decent reputation in Silver Moon Bay. They’ve supported the nations of the Sunset Province in their war against the Legion and its vassal states before, and afterward, they didn’t take the opportunity to annex those kingdoms."

Another submarine commander countered.

"What about Golden Port, then?"

The destroyer captain continued.

"They established a new authority there, composed of local survivors. While it’s unacceptable from the perspective of the Xilan Empire’s royal family, that incident was started by the Empire itself... And I always feel that their appearance in the Baiyue Strait at the same time as the mutants is no coincidence."

Another officer nearby rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded in agreement.

"That makes sense. They even allowed the feudal kingdoms of the Sunset Province to continue existing, as long as the local monarchies abolished slavery and legally established equality among people... And on that front, we’re far ahead of those feudal lords. There’s no reason for them to meddle in our affairs."

The submarine commander who had raised the objection hesitated for a moment but couldn’t find a counterargument. Finally, he nodded.

"That’s true..."

As the conversation opened up, everyone began to chatter animatedly, and the heavy atmosphere around the conference table eased considerably.

Seeking the Alliance's help was indeed a viable approach to solving the problem—at least those people were far more reliable than the lunatics of Haiya Province.

Besides, it was said the Alliance and the Torch were sworn enemies.

Even from the perspective of their own strategic needs, those people did have a vested interest in intervening in the situation of the southern sea region.

“They’re different from the residents of Vault 70—at least they dare to settle in Baiyue Province, where the hermit crabs of Vault 70 wouldn’t go, while those guys barely crawled out from under the sea and already want to steal the nest.”

“I agree. This war stopped being just ours a long time ago; the Torch has been meddling from the start! If Captain Dongwen’s last words are accurate, then the real culprit behind the destruction of the Ocean Current Power Station is undoubtedly the Torch!”

“I agree too. The matter of the power station still needs investigation, but the mutant corpses found north of Ring Island are undeniable!”

“Ahem… I suggest we avoid using the term ‘hermit crabs.’ We need to find a way to win over the residents of Vault 70, who are also victims.”

“What does it matter? The Blue Coats of Fries Harbor call themselves ‘Blue Mice’—I recall that was a nickname the Wilant people gave them.”

“You said it yourself—they’re residents of different vaults, so their mindsets are bound to differ… We’d better be careful.”

The conference table buzzed with debate, but Muda, sitting in the corner, found himself unable to get a word in.

The Federal Patrol had only a dozen or so ultra-long-range speedboats; at most, they could help lay mines.

Then he suddenly realized something, turned to the logistics director beside him, and nudged his arm with an elbow.

“Can I ask a question?”

The man nodded.

“Of course.”

After a pause, he voiced the question that had been weighing on his mind for a while.

“…Is this a civil war?”

The logistics director blinked in surprise, giving the captain a thoughtful look, as if wondering why he would ask such a question.

Especially in a place like this.

Glancing at his comrades heatedly discussing around the table, he turned back to the patrol captain beside him.

“Is there another way to put it?”

Having received a definitive answer, Muda nodded and said no more, the stone that had been pressing on his heart finally settling.

He wasn’t surprised it had come to this—in fact, two months ago, he had vaguely sensed that if things continued this way, something big would happen.

But when the moment truly arrived, he couldn’t help feeling a pang of melancholy.

A civil war…

Who would have thought that in just four months, they, who had once been so united, would shatter into three pieces…

…

Dark, oppressive clouds were gathering over North Island and Anle Island, while out on the open sea, there was a tranquil sunset stillness.

In the rest area of the nuclear submarine *Dolphin*.

Seeing Captain Chen Jianhong approaching, Dongwen, now changed into dry clothes, wore an expression half of gratitude and half of shame.

Gratitude went without saying—this nuclear-powered cargo submarine had rescued two hundred crew members from the destroyer, himself included.

As for shame, this was the first time in four months of war that he had come face-to-face with their “enemy”…

His lips moved for a moment, then he bowed his head slightly.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Care for a cup?”

Holding a mug in each hand, Chen Jianhong didn’t wait for an answer before pressing one into Dongwen’s hand, then sat down on a bench nearby.

“‘Champion’ brand coffee beans. I personally like a little sugar and milk. Not sure if it’ll suit your taste—give it a try.”

A faint milky aroma wafted into his nose, mingled with the bitter-sweet scent of coffee.

The warmth seeping through the mug into his palm dispelled the chill of the seawater. Dongwen sat silently beside Captain Chen, absentmindedly muttering,

“Good stuff… Where did you get it?”

Chen Jianhong grinned, took a sip, and said slowly,

“I didn’t get it—my new boss did.”

“The Alliance?”

“Yeah. They found a black box from Vault 79 and synthesized this treasure, then sent it to the Hump Kingdom to be cultivated by local plantations… These beans apparently need a highland environment—the Zobar Mountains are just the right altitude.”

“They sure know how to enjoy themselves.” Dongwen took a slow sip, but the bitterness made him wince, his cheeks and brow tightening.

Seeing his reaction, Chen Jianhong laughed heartily.

“You could say that. I’ve picked up a bit of their habits myself, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing.”

Looking at the silent Dongwen, Chen Jianhong shifted his gaze from that furrowed brow to the front, and spoke slowly.

“Actually, these past few days, after learning about the other vaults, I’ve been seriously thinking about what really separates us.”

Dongwen looked up.

“And did you figure it out?”

“Sort of…” Chen Jianhong shrugged, speaking casually. “I realized you might be right—we’re not really that different.”

Dongwen stared at him in surprise. The latter paused, then continued.

“My great-grandfather lay in a cryo-pod for a hundred years, but my great-grandmother was an islander. If my grandfather still bore the mark of the Blue Coat, by my father’s generation, there wasn’t much left. Even my education was completed in Coral City, and many Federal engineers studied there too, even using the same textbooks as me.”

Dongwen looked at him.

“Then where does the problem lie?”

Chen Jianhong thought for a moment.

“Maybe… it lies with the Administrator.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Dongwen’s face.

“You mean Mr. Sun Yuechi?”

“Sun Yuechi?” Chen Jianhong blinked, then waved his hand with a laugh. “You’ve got it wrong—it’s not about him. I used to look down on him, but after going to Dawn City and talking with him, I found he’s actually a man with ideas. He’s been working hard to patch up the coat we’ve been wearing for a century, but one person’s strength is too insignificant in the face of the greater tide.”

Dongwen looked at him, puzzled.

“Then is there someone else?”

Chen Jianhong shrugged.

“Just my humble opinion. Maybe… the problem lies in the role of Administrator itself. Honestly, our Administrator was originally just the Administrator of Vault 70. There’s nothing wrong with us using our own methods to select the next Administrator, but the key is after the door opened… Our Administrator had to manage not just the vault, but thirteen islands and one undersea settlement.”

Dongwen hesitated.

“What’s wrong with that?”

Chen Jianhong shook his head.

“Nothing. At first, nothing was wrong. Take Boulder City—they did well before the Black Card went bad. Singularity City started off fine too, though they took a wrong turn after losing the War Construction Committee’s help. Even the Empire I passed through recently—whether General Lowell and the survivors at the time were serious enough or not, taking in a hundred million refugees across four million square kilometers of grassland was no human task… Of course, we were the same. We did well until four months ago. We can’t let this four-month chaos negate everything from the past two centuries.”

Dongwen said nothing, merely watching him in silence, waiting for him to continue.

Chen Jianhong paused for a moment, then sighed and spoke.

"Perhaps the original administrator is all that's needed... If we don't pass down the work of the mender from generation to generation, then after that great one departs, we can carve his name on the door of this shelter, which ought to have died its natural death as well, and together thank him and the Prosperity Era for the blessings bestowed upon us, together commemorate his birth and his passing, hand in hand discuss how the road ahead should be walked."

As he said this, he looked at Dongwen and grinned.

"You see, at least this way we'd have one common tradition, no need to celebrate those endless hundred-plus festivals of the Prosperity Era. I never really thought the Prosperity Era was all that great—you all think the Bluecoats know what that place looks like, but honestly, I've never even seen it. Starting everything from the ground beneath our feet isn't so bad either."

Resting the back of his head against the wall, Dongwen closed his eyes and sighed.

"Perhaps."

He realized he didn't actually hate those Bluecoats all that much.

For all he knew, his own ancestors might have been shelter residents, or nearly became the lucky ones who hid inside the shelters.

What had brought them to this state of affairs?

Maybe he really should think it over.

But...

That wasn't something to do now.

Downing the last of his coffee, he looked at Chen Jianhong and asked.

"And now? What do you plan to do?"

The moment his words fell, before the captain of the Dolphin could answer, a calm and clear voice came from the side.

"We plan to head directly to Shelter No. 70 while the Federal Fleet is in chaos."

"There's no better opportunity than now."