Bayji, Refinery, Command Post.
The buzzing sound unique to satellite phones broke the silence of waiting.
Song Heping opened his eyes from the chair and glanced at the caller ID—a number encrypted through multiple jumps, but he knew who it was.
He did not pick up immediately, allowing it to ring five or six times as if completing some trivial task before leisurely picking up the receiver.
"This is the 'Musician' Bayji Command Post." His voice was unremarkable.
"Mr. Song, this is Miller."
Admiral Miller's voice came through from the other end of the line, trying to maintain composure, but with a trace of tension.
It was a private satellite phone, but Song Heping answered with "Command Post."
The implication was clear.
"I presume you are already aware of the situation in the Titrick and Hulmatu directions," he said.
"I've heard a little," Song Heping's tone betrayed no emotion, "I'm sorry to hear about Colonel Kote. The situation seems unfavorable."
