Heavy Object

Long story short, they were back in the run-down Lost Angels motel.

Drawing a board game on the back of some paper seemed like a good idea at the time, but Quenser and Heivia began arguing over whether the paper die was warped or unfair and they ended up in a light scuffle.

Of course, Lost Angels had enough entertainment to last a lifetime (however short that might be), but…

“Oh, screw this! My stress just keeps building up and I don’t feel like heading out for some fun when there are criminals and spies everywhere.”

“This is still better than a Capitalist Corporations safe country. They have constant shootouts between ‘talent trafficking’ kidnappers and school PMCs.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t know? You can make a lot of money selling genius kids to corporations, so there are organizations that specialize in going after elementary and middle school kids. That’s why their school buses are bulletproof and are escorted by armored trucks armed with machineguns. The kidnappers use attack helicopters to go after them from the air. Makes you wonder how that can be called a ‘safe’ country.”

“And the big companies buy the abducted kids!?”

“With DNA tests, you won’t get a 100% match even with a sample from the same person. And when there’s even a 0.1% margin of error, it’s a job for the corporate lawyers. Even if the parents sue them and bring in pictures and hair samples, the lawyers will twist the truth with their words. They’ll make it so the kid is someone else who ‘just so happens to look a lot like them’.”

“Wow.”

“Of course, it helps that the big companies that control the judicial system and administration are the ones doing this. You’ve probably heard how the Capitalist Corporations very nearly completed a long-term civilian s.p.a.ce travel project, but there’s talk that those kids were a part of it. Naturally, just like with the moon landing way back when, there are conspiracy theories that it was all a fake to frighten the other world powers. At any rate, the number of geniuses on their payroll is directly related to the technological power of a corporation, so that market isn’t going away anytime soon. It sure is scary to think about.”

That was when the door cracked open and Millia Newburg of the intelligence division entered with a smile.

“Hi there, everyone. I have a new member to introduce! C’mon in, transfer student!!”

“What? Did some idiot get drunk, pull off an officer’s toupee, and get demoted or something?” asked Heivia while removing his hand from his awful friend’s collar.

But Millia shook her head.

“In a way, this is even more interesting. Heh heh. C’mon already! We’re going to be roommates, so don’t be so shy!!”

She tugged on an arm and pulled someone into the dimly-lit motel room.

“…Wait,” said Quenser in a scratchy voice.

It was a brown-skinned girl with her long black hair tied back. From neck to toes, she was covered in a special skintight fabric. That green outfit with a nurse-like silhouette was most likely the same kind of Pilot Elite special suit that the Princess normally wore.

Green was the color the Faith Organization liked to use and Quenser only knew of one Elite who had recently been forced to leave the Object that was like a part of her own body.

“Tah dah!! It’s Putana Highball who piloted the Collective Farming! After we released her, she was placed against the wall and about to be shot for her failure, so I attacked and collected her because it sounded like fun!!”

“I-I’ll kill you!! I’ll slaughter every last one of you who took the Sarasvati, the Faith Organization, and everything from me!! Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!”

When he saw the disgrace of a former Elite starting to struggle and being restrained, Quenser Barbotage grew somewhat blue.

If something happened, he would of course be the first she killed.

“But she’s cute, so who cares!!”

“You’re pretty sinful yourself, you know that, Quenser?”

However…

“Our job today is in the northern mountains. You each need to secure your own transportation and hurry there. Oh, and Quenser! Putana may be from the city, but I doubt she’s left the Faith Organization base much. Show her around Lost Angels while also teaching her our way of doing things. Teaching the newbies is a job for the old newbie. Heivia did the same for you, remember? Have fun☆”

“ ‘Teacher’, if you’re going to show me the way around Lost Angels, I’d like you to show me a lot more ‘shortcuts’ and ‘back streets’!!”

“Noooooo!! I’d always wanted a girl to invite me into an empty back alley, but not like thiiiiissssssssssssss!!”

In a supermarket parking lot near the run-down motel, Quenser screamed like a girl stopped by an old man wearing nothing but a trench coat.

The city of Lost Angels was as insane as ever. A nearby store was blown up, black smoke rose into the blue sky, and a Pizza Deliveryman ignored it while riding his scooter down the road.

“By the way, teacher, I have a question.”

“Wh-what is it?”

“Who was it that thought up the plan to steal my Sarasvati? From what I’ve overhead, it was an idea suggested by a normal soldier.”

“Ha…ha ha ha ha ha!! I-I have no idea what you’re talking about. That was a plan to steal a Second Generation Object, right? To think up that, you’d have to be a s.e.xy genius from some new breed of human!!”

“Mhh… Come to think of it, you’re right. A normal person like you wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Anyway, they were not out here to pick up some food.

A clattering sound made it clear Quenser was in the process of stealing a light off-road motorcycle.

“If I connect this…to this… Wow, Heivia was right! It actually started up! I can’t believe it. How cheap is this thing!?”

“No matter how complicated they make it, it’ll still get stolen, so I doubt anyone tries that hard. That motorcycle was probably stolen from another parking lot.

Starting up the engine was one thing, but Quenser could not drive a motorcycle.

After seeing a macho man quickly running over from a store with a handgun at the ready, Putana Highball hopped onto the seat and Quenser clung to her back. She must have made a mistake operating the clutch because the off-road two-wheel vehicle hopped up in a flashy wheelie.

This was a common sight in Lost Angels.

Dry gunshots rang out behind them.

“I see,” said Putana. “So this is why they call it the city of corruption.”

“Eh? What was that!? I can’t hear you over the wind!”

“Lost Angels is a part of the Faith Organization, but it doesn’t look like it, does it? Rumor has it it was a giant experiment to see what happened to people after they lost their faith. …And it’s making my skin crawl, so don’t cling to me like that, teacher.”

“Buhahhh.”

“Why are you sniffing at me so obviously right after I warned you!?”

“Nothing you say will change the fact that I’m in a good position here. So no matter how much you’ll hit me later, I’m gonna do it! Oh, your body is so soft and warm. Girls are the best!!”

That was when Millia Newburg’s familiar voice came in over the radio.

“Hey, there! Looks like you’re going at it already, so I’m glad to see you’re making progress with her training.”

With a deep roar of an engine, a motorcycle pulled up alongside theirs. Millia was driving, Heivia sat behind her with his arms around her waist, and neither of them was wearing a helmet. They had clearly had a rough ride because Quenser’s horrible friend was completely pale and did not seem able to enjoy the warmth of his beautiful commanding officer. He was clinging to her for dear life.

To prevent the wind from drowning her out, Millia was speaking through the radio despite how close they were.

“This is a good opportunity. How about we have a race to our destination in the northern mountains? We both have a guy loaded on the back, so the conditions seem fair to me. Think of it like a welcome party to get to know each other.”

“Your bike is the large kind used in professional races. I can’t hope to match those specs.”

“Finding the best ride is part of the challenge here in Lost Angels. Or are you afraid that a great Elite is going to lose to a normal soldier in a vehicle race because of a slight handicap like that?”

“……………………………………………………………………………………………”

“Oh, no!” shouted Quenser. “I think this Elite had too sheltered an upbringing to know when someone’s provoking her!”

The two motorcycles stopped side by side in front of a lowered railroad crossing barrier.

As a rusty freight train slowly pa.s.sed by, Millia gave a simple explanation of the rules.

“The goal is our original destination and you can choose whatever route you like. The witnesses can be the luggage we have sitting behind us. Any other local rules necessary?”

“Only that we ban gunfire and running each other off the road.”

“Hah hah! Sounds like you’ve figured out how this city works!”

The final car of the freight train pa.s.sed by, a bell sounded like the clattering of an empty can, and the barrier lifted.

Intense acceleration immediately pressed in on Quenser and Heivia’s guts.

The scenery flew by and a blast of wind struck their entire bodies. The two motorcycles pa.s.sed some cars waiting at a light, did not hesitate to drive right out into the traffic flowing like a river through the intersection, took a sharp curve, and started down the major road. Once again, the world was wasting all sorts of energy and the hands of the World Clock were moving ever faster.

“Abah. Abababababababah!?”

“Teacher, not so loud.”

Despite Putana’s casual tone, Quenser did not have it in him. If not for his overflowing pa.s.sion for enjoying this girl’s body temperature for as long as possible, he would almost certainly have been thrown off already.

At first, Putana fell behind due to her inferior engine. She kept her position about ten meters behind Millia Newburg and used her superior off-road ability to switch between lanes and take the shortest route, even if by only a meter or ten centimeters. The way she took the inside of every turn to the point of just about hitting things was taking years from the lifespan of Quenser’s heart, so the World Clock was now the least of his worries.

An old man who had apparently been stripped of everything he owned was sitting in a daze on the roadside. He only wore underwear and the luxury car next to him had all of its bulletproof gla.s.s broken. Quenser was pretty sure he was the Jeweler famous for laundering, but from now on, he would have his hands full finding a cardboard box to sleep in.

Millia’s voice arrived over the radio again.

“How about we kill some time by reviewing the mission?”

“…!!”

Suggesting that in her spare time seemed to have stoked Putana’s compet.i.tive spirit.

The brown girl violently twisted the throttle lever and Quenser’s scream rose in pitch.

Up ahead, Millia moved into the opposing traffic to get around a slow-moving truck and she spoke calmly with cars zooming by on either side.

“Our job today is to support the 37th Mobile Maintenance Battalion. Specifically, we’re going to be supporting their Object, the Baby Magnum.”

“The Princess’s?”

“The northern mountains are considered a part of Lost Angels, but the other side of the mountains doesn’t fall into the safe country category. A battlefield country juts sharply in there and there’s someone there just asking for a nice heavy punch.”

While ignoring three lights in a row, Putana continued pursuit, but she was not closing in any.

More than just the difference in engine specs, Millia was a skilled driver.

“Our opponent is a Second Generation Faith Organization Object named the Flyaway.”

“Because it’s frivolous?”

“The name does have a meaning, but not in a good way. That’s why they want the Princess to blow it to smithereens.”

Putana’s control of the handlebars grew a little stiff when she heard the Faith Organization mentioned.

The distance between them opened up, even if by only a few meters.

Millia Newburg pa.s.sed by a few cars as if shaking her b.u.t.t in Putana’s direction.

“The simplest way to explain its fighting style is ‘always flee’. As soon as things get dangerous, it releases its main cannon and uses the reduction in weight to escape the battlefield.”

“Its main cannon? But isn’t that full of military secrets?”

“That’s why the main cannon is like a beehive made of large containers. It’s got a ton of large-capacity batteries and bug legs, so it can run around on its own for a bit even after being abandoned. It can’t fire without the reactor, but it can regroup with the Object or be picked up after escaping the battlefield. And if you try to stop it by firing on it, it’ll melt like candy. Either way, you lose your chance to get those secrets.”

“Another pain in the a.s.s…”

“Agreed. The information we’ve gathered says it uses its beehive-like coilgun to scatter eighty percent of its ammunition in the first five seconds, abandons that main cannon, and uses it as a diversion to escape. And if it’s about to be caught, it won’t hesitate to send out the White Flag signal. …It uses that combination of surprise attack and retreat for months at a time while waiting for its enemy to be worn down.”

In an age where clashes between nuke-resistant Objects had become daily topics of conversation, the six or seven billion people on earth had not gone extinct due to a few ridiculous implicit understandings about the battlefield. The White Flag signal was one of those. If one of the Objects was destroyed or unable to continue fighting, that signal would be sent out to avoid a slaughter of the people in the undefended maintenance base.

However…

“The White Flag is supposed to be for emergencies, so if they keep using it like that…”

“Yes. They’ll create a situation where people are so fed up with it that they ignore it. This one idiot could easily ruin one of the rules of the battlefield. That’s why we have to settle this before it happens.”

There were a few different ways to do that.

1. Destroy it with a single attack before it could use the White Flag.

2. Obstruct its propulsion device so it could not escape after abandoning its main cannon.

3. Somehow prevent it from transmitting the White Flag.

Of course, if they could pull off #1 with no real preparation, this enemy would not have been a problem in the first place.

“The battlefield is in the treacherous mountains I mentioned before and that’s where the Flyaway works best. It uses its eight legs with a static electricity propulsion device, so it almost seems to slide up slopes as steep as sixty-five degrees. If it wanted to, it could slip back and forth between this side and that side of the mountains.”

The Princess used a multi-role First Generation Object, so it was designed to work just as well in a desert or the Antarctic Ocean. However, that meant it did not specialize in any one environment, so she would be slower than the Flyaway on a mountain slope.

“To put it another way, would the Princess be able to take it out if its legs were dealt with?”

“I’m glad you catch on so quickly. No matter how special its design is, the Flyaway still uses static electricity to float. If we do something to the ground below its feet, we can still interfere with its movement.”

Lost Angels was a city of two million, but as they traveled north, the buildings gradually grew shorter and a wasteland covered in fine, orange sand grew more obvious. Looking down the path of tall metal towers carrying high-voltage lines brought a wall of treacherous mountains into view.

Those were the northern mountains.

The tallest of them was not even two thousand meters and there was no hint of snow.

Instead, a hydroelectric power station and a ropeway were visible on the slope even from the distance.

“We don’t need any mountain climbing equipment. There’s an observatory on the peak, so you can get up by winding road or by cable car. We can easily take our bikes up to the top, so don’t worry.”

“A winding road? So a series of hairpin curves? …That means I still have a chance!!”

Millia likely understood that as well, but she still needlessly opened up the throttle and produced an explosive backfire to provoke the new girl.

But all of a sudden, the mountains up ahead shook.

A great cloud of dust blew down from the mountains and there was nothing the puny humans could do even though they saw the wall approaching.

Their vision narrowed considerably like they were caught in a sandstorm, the bright sunlight itself was cut off, and the area grew as dark as dusk.

A stinging pain ran across their cheeks. They had no helmet visor or goggles to protect them, but they continued the race. After switching on the headlights, Putana opened the throttle despite the limited visibility.

“Ugh. Peh, peh!! What just happened!?”

“d.a.m.n, that was sooner than predicted. This must be what they call an unexpected turn of events. It looks like the Princess has run into the Flyaway!!”

“…”

The Princess took shallow breaths inside the Baby Magnum’s c.o.c.kpit.

Beads of sweat trailed down her relatively unexpressive face.

The alarms sounded quite distant.

She could hear someone’s voice in her ear, but it took her a while to comprehend the words.

“Prin…cess… Save your confusion for when you return safe and sound! It’s too soon to sit there in a daze!!”

The transmission from Frolaytia acted like a slap to the face and the Princess somehow managed to grab one of the countless levers again.

Her eyeb.a.l.l.s and their pupils gave targeting instructions to the machinery.

Her target was the Second Generation Faith Organization Object named the Flyaway.

It looked like a ma.s.sive eight-legged insect clinging to the steep slope.

Its main cannon was made up of moving containers, so it could be abandoned like a lizard’s tail.

But it was not exposure to that threat which had made the Princess’s heart race.

She felt no real danger from an Object that would have its main cannon crawl around as a diversion and escape after the first attack.

She heard a crumbling sound as the mountain slope broke away below her.

But there was something strange mixed in that was not earthen dust or broken rock. She also saw a curved metal rail and a few pieces of metal that looked like they had burst from within. Before they had been destroyed so spectacularly, they may have been advertised as follows in a Lost Angels pamphlet with some photographs to go along with it:

Take a ride through the miraculous night scenery of Lost Angels.

How about a midair stroll in the world’s fastest cable cars?

“…Ugh.”

The Princess clenched her teeth and groaned as she used her gaze to aim.

But before her seven main cannons could roar, the Flyaway crossed the mountain ridge and escaped to the other side of the mountain.

That other side was Lost Angels, a Faith Organization safe country.

Starting from the route it took, the Flyaway had repeatedly violated the rules of war, so it had apparently not cared too much when it fired either.

“Uph!!”

The Princess brought a hand to her mouth and just barely held back the urge to vomit.

No matter how many powerful Objects she had destroyed or gun-wielding soldiers she had killed, that was completely different from killing innocent civilians. This slaughter that left the bounds of what could be called “war” caused her consciousness to flash in and out.

Her eyes turned toward one corner of the large screen.

More than ten seconds had pa.s.sed since the “accidental sh.e.l.lfire”, but the wreckage of the cable cars continued to fall from the cliff like it was rolling down a hill.

The Princess did not know how many dozens or hundreds of people had been onboard, but that movement made it all too clear that no miracle would allow them to return alive.

“This is F-F-F-Flashtime News (à la a DJ’s scratch)!! Today’s headline: Legitimacy Kingdom vs. Faith Organization, Mistake in the Mountains? There’s been a great tragedy involving all eighty-nine cable car pa.s.sengers. Not much investigation has been done since the place is still a battlefield, but the odds of survival are looking grim. And it seems the victims were mostly children here on a trip. Both sides’ PR offices are giving conflicting explanations, so there’s a fear the truth may never be known.”

With their mission put on hold, Quenser and the others had returned to the run-down motel.

Quenser gave an annoyed sigh as he watched the news playing on the old TV in one corner of the room.

“If they investigated the scene, it’d be obvious it was the Flyaway’s coilgun that did it.”

“This guy isn’t a representative of public opinion around the world. There was an Ice Cream Truck driving by outside, remember? This is a pirate broadcast sent out by that thing, so no one believes it. When he was p.i.s.sed at the outcome of a race he’d bet on, there was an entire day where every channel was nothing but the a.s.shole of a ‘beautiful’ bulldog. On that day, trying to watch some TV while eating was a mistake.”

“No one here is remotely ecological.”

“You mean that World Clock thing? If they put out a report saying the energy used by safe country wives in the living room had grown to ten times that used by the military in battlefield countries, do you think those virtuous civilians would believe it?”

There was no tension in Millia Newburg’s voice.

Heivia spoke up while sipping on some bland instant coffee that tasted like a chain store’s coffee diluted with muddy water.

“Regardless, we can’t ignore this forever, Quenser. The White Flag was bad enough, but now the b.a.s.t.a.r.d piloting the Flyaway has completely forgotten his table manners. If we leave now, the same thing will keep happening around the world.”

“Those mountains are his home turf, so he’s bound to get carried away. If we poke at him, he’ll respond, so it won’t be hard to get a rematch.” Quenser held a hand to his chin as he spoke. “The Princess will deliver the finishing blow, but the problem is how to mess with the Flyaway’s footing. Also, he can slide along those treacherous slopes with his eight legs, so how can humans like us catch up to or cut him off. If we can’t stop him, not even the Princess can get a shot in.”

That was when a girl raised her hand.

It was Putana Highball who had remained perfectly silent all this time.

“I have an idea about that.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Given Millia’s approval, the Pilot Elite continued.

“I’ve heard of secret tunnels filling those mountains. Lost Angels is a safe country and the other side of the mountains is a battlefield country, so those tunnels allow people to lose any pursuit when they’re transporting weapons, drugs, dirty money, jewels, or anything else.”

“So there’s a network of hand-dug smuggling tunnels? That sounds like something Mustard Cowboy – that is, the Capitalist Corporations – would do.”

“The Legitimacy Kingdom doesn’t have any tunnels?”

“Azul Hive is based in the southeastern commerce port and we get our funding from there. We can bring in as many weapons and people as we want, so there was no need to make any tunnels,” explained Millia. “Now, let’s get back on topic. The tunnels through those northern mountains are probably based on the drug tunnels connecting the Capitalist Corporations’ main country to Central America. I didn’t want to get involved with something so complicated, but I guess we have no choice.”

While making those preliminary calculations, she weighed the risks against the benefits and found the benefits won out.

“It’s only a rumor, but those mountains are supposed to be as full of tunnels as an ant colony. They may be hand-dug, but I hear they’re big enough for a small motorcycle to drive through without issue. But if this is true, it’s one of the cornerstones of their business. They’ll have made it so we can’t easily grasp its full scope. In other words, it would take too long to enter the mountain with surveying equipment now.”

“Then what do we do?” asked Heivia with a frown.

Their bikini commander answered immediately.

“Let’s do this Lost Angels style. We’ll abduct a Mustard Cowboy leader and get the information we need that way. They’ll actually be a soldier eating on the taxpayer’s dime, so there’s no need to hold back. Plus, I happen to know the perfect target.”

She operated one of the military computers filling the walls and displayed what looked like a resume with an attached photo. But to be clear, this file had not been written by the man in the photo. It came from a list of dangerous people created using information gathered by the intelligence division.

“George Coral. Male. Age thirty-six. Five registered homes in this city alone. He’s a former leader of Mustard Cowboy who had made a name for himself in Lost Angels’s western financial district.”

“Former?” asked Quenser.

“He was purged after that incident with the stolen lightship focusing lens.” Millia sounded amused. “Technically, he’s still running around the city. He’s only a poor little lamb who had everything taken from him, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has Mustard Cowboy’s information. Attacking a current leader would mean starting a citywide war, so this should be far easier. It’s the perfect chance to get our hands on an accurate map of the smuggling tunnels.”

“That settles it then. If we sit around, he’ll be killed by Capitalist Corporations soldiers. You can’t get a dead man to talk, so it would be best to nab him ASAP.”

No one opposed Heivia’s opinion and several sets of footsteps moved toward the run-down motel’s exit.

Quenser looked over at Putana.

“What is it, teacher?”

“Well… Whoever’s piloting the Flyaway is a Faith Organization Elite just like you. I thought maybe you could give us a hint there.”

Putana looked like she was spitting on the ground as she answered.

“They’re a disgrace to the Faith Organization.”

There were piles of trash even among the countless high-rise buildings of western Lost Angels. For example, there was a garbage dump at one corner of an intersection. A bearded man lay face up, practically buried in the piles of black garbage bags that were probably no longer used anywhere else in the world.

His former dreadful and impressive aura was gone. An RC Girl may have been flying a toy around because she held a remote control while looking up into the blue sky, but not even she paid the man any heed.

The man’s former subordinate gave an exasperated comment.

“You are still in the western area?”

“Shut up… This is my territory, my turf, my domain. Dammit, who’s swimming in that rooftop pool now? Is it Kenny? Or maybe Rob? I’ll find whoever it was that stole my stuff and fill them with holes.”

It may have been this unpredictability that had allowed him to live this long. He had been the boss, so they never would have thought to find him buried in a pile of trash.

That was all it was.

Once they corrected their image of him, he would likely be found by the Mustard Cowboy soldiers before the long hand of the clock made a full circle, receive a bullet between the eyes before it made a second circle, and be thrown out into the ocean before it made a third.

“It would be best if you left the city and quickly,” said his former friendly subordinate.

“Are you mocking me? Listen. I’m putting together a plan for a comeback. I’m not gonna die here. Why? Because it isn’t my time to die yet, G.o.ddammit! First, I’ll get my hands on a gun. I can just punch someone around here and take one!!”

“What do you hope to accomplish with a 9mm bullet?”

“If you want to know, then come with me. I’ll show you the kind of luxury you’ll never find in the tax-funded lifestyle of a soldier. C’mon!! If you’re looking for George Coral, he’s right over herrrrre!! If you’ve got a problem with that, then come face meeeeee!!!!!!”

As soon as the man stood on the top of the trash heap and gave a roar, something happened.

“Will do.”

With that casual comment, Heivia crashed a stolen four-wheel drive vehicle into the trash heap by the intersection.

He did so at full speed and without touching the brakes.

With a great crash, the piled-up black trash bags were knocked every which way like bowling pins.

George Coral, the kingpin at the top, flew through the air and slammed heavily into the vehicle’s roof. The group of School Trip Students crossing a nearby crosswalk in a line of boys and a line of girls all widened their eyes in surprise.

Heivia was filled with excitement.

“Ha ha! That tech-illiterate digital exhibitionist’s smartphone was a lot of help. I never thought we’d find the idiot this quickly!!”

A College Girl in a Monokini intentionally tripped in feigned surprise and made sure the friction with the ground slide her swimsuit down, but unfortunately, Heivia did not have time to go along with her exhibitionism. After reminding himself he could use the internet to see her changing any time he wanted, he focused on the task at hand.

After all, the man who had fallen on the roof managed to jump down as if rolling off the back of the vehicle and he had started making a run for it as soon as he landed on the asphalt.

He was getting away.

“What the h.e.l.l!? The guy’s still alive and kicking!!”

“You hit the pile of trash, not him! Backup, backup! Run into him and break his hip. As long as you don’t kill him, we can still get him to talk!!”

Obeying Millia Newburg’s fairly cruel instructions, Heivia threw the vehicle into reverse with the tires screeching against the asphalt.

The shocked bearded man frantically changed direction and climbed onto the scaffolding of a building under construction.

Despite the sound of bending metal and of a heavy impact, the four-wheel drive vehicle missed its target.

George Coral was running up the scaffolding. He was well-built despite being a former leader.

“Oh, honestly! We can’t do anything in this thing!”

“We have to chase after him like monkeys? What a pain in the a.s.s!!”

“No, we can leave this ‘aerial battle’ to the newbie. We’ll grab another vehicle and pursue on the surface. Whether it’s providing support or cutting off his escape, there has to be more we can do.”

As Millia instructed Heivia, she brought the radio to her mouth.

“You heard me, Putana! Chase him down in that off-road motorcycle you like so much!!”

As soon as she spoke, the roar of an engine pa.s.sed over the four-wheel drive vehicle.

It did not pa.s.s “by” it.

The off-road motorcycle used the upward sloping road to make the kind of large jump seen at a circus, pa.s.sed over the four-wheel drive vehicle’s roof, and landed on the scaffolding.

“Wow. I guess she is a Pilot Elite after all.”

“But why is Quenser clinging to her back?”

“He volunteered to keep an eye on her. He’d be too scared otherwise. He’s the one she would want revenge against, so I bet he doesn’t want to let her out of his sight to prevent any surprise attacks.”

The construction scaffolding was narrow.

The building’s wall and the pillars of metal pipes shot by at tremendous speed only fifty centimeters to either side. They easily drove up the long, narrow metal panels placed diagonally instead of stairs.

“Oh, G.o.d! Oh, G.o.d! Oh, G.o.d! Oh, G.o.d!”

“Teacher, why are you even on my bike?”

They were three stories up.

George Coral had relaxed once he had escaped the vehicle, but he stiffened in shock when he turned toward the engine noise behind him.

Putana Highball showed no mercy.

She safely drove through and blew away the professional soldier who had become a gang leader.

The bearded man’s arms and legs flailed wildly, but doubt and fear filled him as the shock of landing never came.

His muscular body had flown over the scaffolding and into empty air. He had broken through the net meant to keep people from falling, slowed down because of it, and finally fell to the ground below.

After confirming that, Putana opened the throttle of her off-road motorcycle and unhesitatingly jumped down from the building’s scaffolding.

A three-story freefall began.

As Quenser flew through the air, he felt a chill on his spine when he saw a Worker clinging to a telephone pole at eye level. That had reminded him just how high up they were.

The pressure in his stomach from the fall was different from that of simple acceleration, so the student let out a scream.

Putana pressed the back wheel down as she accurately landed the motorcycle right next to George Coral’s head where he had fallen ahead of them and did not get back up. She forcefully swerved around to turn the light motorcycle’s front wheel toward the bearded man’s head. With fine control of the brakes, she stopped at the last second as if lightly biting his head between the tire and the ground.

At this point, it was no different from pressing the muzzle of a gun against his forehead.

“Do as I say,” calmly instructed the girl. “Otherwise, I will splatter your brains on the ground here.”

“…”

Tears filled George Coral’s eyes and he heard two short horn blasts.

A station wagon stopped nearby.

He heard several doors open and close and then a woman in a bikini top and baggy cargo pants walked up with a smile on her face.

“There technically are Faith Organization police in this city, so hurry and load him up. …Now, then. How long a day this will be is entirely dependent on how patient you are, Mr. George Coral.”

“Uhh… You pieces of s.h.i.t…”

The bearded man breathed out, his limbs went limp, and his eyes squeezed shut.

It seemed his return to stardom in Lost Angels was still a long way off.

Quenser, Heivia, Putana, and Millia reported on their progress while taking the station wagon randomly down the large Grape Street.

“This is the microchip hidden in his necktie pin. He was also quick to talk since he feels no obligations to a group that threw him out. Thanks to that, we didn’t have to put on a raincoat and go stand in the bathroom with a knife in hand.”

Their information source, George Coral, was no longer in the station wagon, but not because they had fired a bullet into his head and chucked him from the speeding vehicle.

“What did he ask for in return?”

“An instant fake ID and a Capitalist Corporations brand handgun. I’m sure he’ll be found out within three days, but he probably plans to do something by then. And it’s hardly a problem for us if some infighting breaks out within Mustard Cowboy.”

Abandoning one’s morals brought a lot of possibility.

That was the best part about Lost Angels.

At any rate, they now had an accurate map of the smuggling tunnels through the northern mountains.

If they could take a shortcut through those mountains, even they could cut in front of the Flyaway’s path as it slid along the slopes.

They could strike back against that insane Second Generation that had blown away so many civilians.

Quenser spoke up while fiddling with his radio.

“Hi, Frolaytia? Our preparations are complete. How’s the Princess?”

“A little longer and I would have mixed a sedative into her tea. She’s about ready to give into her anger and start Armageddon. In other words, her head is boiling over. She’ll rush in the instant I remove the leash, but I have no intention of sending her in without a plan. Do you have an actual idea as to how you’ll trip that thing up?”

“Let’s meet and talk sometime.”

“What? Have you been so dyed by the intelligence division’s ways that you’re worried about someone intercepting the signal?”

“(No, that isn’t it.)”

“(Why are you whispering?)”

“(How should I put this? Um… There’s this girl real nearby who wants revenge on the level of a murdered parent, so I’m a little afraid of revealing any clever ideas around her.)”

“(In a way, you really are living the life of an intelligence operative, Quenser.)”

He gave a nervous look to the side received a puzzled look from the girl in a green special suit modelled after a nurse uniform.

Even Lost Angels had the karaoke boxes that had originated in the Island Nation.

Of course, since they were essentially soundproofed, private rooms that could be rented by the hour, they were mostly used by the customers of the women who stood on the street corners in dresses that did not cover much of anything.

And that was why Frolaytia was in an extremely bad mood after meeting up there.

“Quenser… I don’t see an ashtray, so could you hold out your hands? Yes, like you’re scooping up water.”

“If you’re stressed out, why not sing a song!? This is a karaoke box, after all!!”

“Why did you bring me to this love hotel?”

“If a fancy officer showed up at the run-down motel, we’d be advertising that it’s an intelligence division hideout. The place would be blown away by a rocket or bomb the next day.”

Incidentally, Legitimacy Kingdom bodyguards had rented the two neighboring rooms while disguised as customers and a bulletproof SUV was casually waiting in the alley closest to the emergency exit. The defenses put in place for an officer were on an entirely different level.

Frolaytia grabbed a pitcher, poured a carbonated drink into a gla.s.s, and grabbed some fried chicken from a large plate of greasy foods.

“What are you planning to do here in Lost Angels?”

“As I said, we got an accurate map of the smuggling tunnels the Capitalist Corporations use. If we use them, we can sneak up on the Flyaway.”

After asking permission, Quenser reached for the same large plate as his commander and munched on some fries.

The onion rings must not have been very good because neither of them took any.

“He uses a static electricity propulsion device just like the Princess, so it’s possible we can stop him from moving using a weakness there.”

“Specifically?”

Frolaytia must not have liked how salty the fried chicken was because she dipped it in a small plate of mayonnaise.

If they used a giant charged sheet commonly known as a Floor Heater, they could pump in a whole bunch of power to mess with the static electricity letting the Object float.

However…

“We can’t rely on a large system like the Floor Heater. The tunnels were hand-dug and only a light off-road motorcycle can get through. They were made to let unregistered guns and drugs through, so we can’t hope for much.”

After Quenser shoved several fries into his mouth, Frolaytia took a sip of her carbonated drink and then spoke to the boy.

“Then what will you do? The battlefield covers the entire mountain range, so it’s a large area. Also, I’m sure he’ll be worried about his own footing. Is there really a way to trip him up without getting caught by his many sensors?”

“It’s only a theory, but yes,” said Quenser.

Frolaytia grinned and urged him to continue.

“Let’s hear it.”

“There’s something that can mess with his static electricity while also affecting a wide area. All we have to do is transport it through the tunnels and onto the mountain slope.”

“But what exactly is it? You already told me you can’t use the Floor Heater.”

“The tunnels are narrow, but if we aren’t transporting a ‘solid’, we can send quite a lot through at once.”

“You don’t mean…”

Frolaytia was surprised and Quenser placed a handheld device on the table.

It displayed a satellite photo of the mountains.

The slope was covered by several metal pipes that looked like water slides enlarged several dozen times over.

“There’s a hydroelectric power station…in other words, a dam. We just have to use a large pump to draw out the water and send it through the ant colony of smuggling tunnels. Static electricity propulsion devices can’t directly cross rivers or oceans, so they have to attach naval floats first. As the Flyaway gets carried away, we’ll create a fountain of water at his feet and turn the entire slope into a giant waterfall. That’ll stop him.”

“And if the Princess keeps enough distance to not get caught too, she just has to fire one of her main cannons…”

“That will be an issue of speed. After the first attack, the Flyaway will remove its main cannon to lighten itself. That means the Princess won’t have to think about evading anymore. If she can blast him before he realizes what’s going on and sends out the White Flag signal, we’ll win.”

It was nothing but a theory.

If the Princess and the intelligence division creating the waterfall could not work together, it would all go up in smoke, so it was a risky gamble.

However, a definite chance for success was beginning to form.

They would be able to strike back against the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who had sacrificed so many civilians.

“I leave the decision up to you.”

“Of course you do. I’m the maintenance base commander.”

Naturally, if the report was submitted under the name Quenser Barbotage, a battlefield student and therefore an amateur, the higher ups would not take it seriously. The Collective Farming incident had been a special case.

However, things would be different if it had the name of Major Frolaytia Capistrano.

“I hope you will ‘consider’ it.”

“Understood. I’ll give it some ‘thought’.”

They began to move late at night.

Partway along the winding road up the northern mountains was a s.p.a.ce that functioned as a rest area and a shop. It was a lot like a highway service area and it was likely supported by the people working at the dam and observatory.

Lost Angels’s nights were supposed to be covered in thick fog, but the mountains seemed to be an exception. The fog was probably a product of the cold mountain wind blowing down into the lukewarm ocean, but that humid sea breeze was absent here.

Millia Newburg was speaking with someone over the radio while sitting on the hood of a cla.s.sic car (that she had of course stolen).

Perhaps to keep them awake, the car’s stereo was playing a pirate broadcast at high volume.

“This is F-F-F-Flashtime News (à la a DJ’s scratch)!! Lip Service, the attorney’s office well-known even within the Capitalist Corporations, is gathering attention by opening an online consultation service. The office specializes in family troubles, so they’re a must-have for fixing any trouble with future geniuses being sold to big companies AKA talent trafficking.”

She spoke to Quenser and Heivia who were filling their stomachs with the cold steamed chicken and salad pasta left in the cheap store.

“The team we sent ahead has taken control of the hydroelectric power station. We’re about to prepare the large pump. The travel team needs to switch over to the off-road motorcycle.”

“What’s the Princess doing?”

“She’s on standby. After getting carried away and starting the battle before we were ready last time, she’s being a lot more cautious.”

With that, all of the Legitimacy Kingdom soldiers got moving.

They searched through the parking lot that had a number of cars and motorcycles parked in it even late at night.

“Putana, won’t you make yourself sick if you eat curry this late?”

“Teacher, I don’t understand how you can call something food if it doesn’t have more than eight kinds of spices mixed together.”

“I’m just thankful I can eat something other than rubber-like rations even though we’re at war. Hey, Quenser, whose a.s.s will you be riding this time?”

“If I’m going to be clinging to someone’s waist, you should know I’ll choose the girl.”

“Teacher, that isn’t something to look so proud of. And please just get a license.”

While they complained, they stole motorcycles with practiced motions.

Having your means of transportation taken from you in the mountains late at night was a frightening thought, but the damage near the keyhole suggested these had been stolen already. That meant their “owners” had brought this bad luck upon themselves.

“I hate these hot nights and their lack of women. Maybe I should call out to one of those women on the street corners.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you. Spread your n.o.ble blood around like that and you’ll have someone killing you in your sleep decades down the line. It’ll be like a scene out of Whatever-It’s-Called Suspense Theatre.”

“My brain knows that, but…y’know, people sometimes have to follow their hearts. Like when I see that beauty in a dress over there with the h.o.r.n.y-looking expression.”

“That’s a trap. You can tell from the location of the pelvis.”

Heivia did a spit-take, but Quenser ignored his intensely regretful friend and gave the Woman in a Dress a skeptical look. What was he(?) doing on this mountain road?

Before he could find an answer, Millia spoke up.

“Those of us on the transport team will go in the trucks. We have to carry the large pump and other equipment in ahead of time, after all.”

“Understood. Putana, keep some distance from the trucks. We don’t want to look like we’re traveling together.”

“Let’s have a few of the motorcycles go on ahead. It can’t hurt to make sure there isn’t an ambush waiting for us.”

With that decided, two of the motorcycles took the lead.

Quenser’s group watched as the trucks left.

Finally, with a roar of engines, the intelligence division’s travel team continued up the winding road in two lines of motorcycles.

They were wary, but fortunately, they did not notice an obvious attack or interference.

They did hear some dry gunshots in the distance, but that was normal in Lost Angels. A tow truck drove down the opposite lane with a luxury racing car in tow and a group of modified cars chased after that Car Thief disguised as a road service.

Quenser clung to Putana and she spoke without turning back.

“Don’t worry. I don’t feel any gazes on us.”

“Gazes?”

“The military satellites are also mostly focused on the city of Lost Angels, so they aren’t paying much attention to these mountains. Of course, that’s why they can’t blame anyone else for the cable cars being blown away.”

Hearing that made Quenser shudder.

He did not know how much truth there was to that, but he doubted it was a mere bluff or a.s.sumption. This girl could use her scopophobia as a weapon, so just how much of a threat to the Princess would she be inside an Object?

(I’m really glad we got rid of that possibility ahead of time.)

“Teacher?”

“Nothing! Did my smoldering gaze send a tingle down your spine, Putana?”

Before long, the group of motorcycles arrived at the hydroelectric power station partway up the mountain.

Millia Newburg gave them a casual wave from the parking lot.

“Let’s get started. We’re using Quenser’s idea. We’ll set up the pumps to draw the water from the reservoir, so you all lay out the pipeline in the smuggling tunnels.”

“Understood.”

Quenser and Heivia hopped down from the motorcycles and walked over to the back of the trucks, but Heivia frowned after opening the metal doors.

“What’s this? There’s only enough for one hundred meters! That’s not enough to get the water all the way through the mountain!!”

“How many trucks do you think we’d need to carry that much pipework around? We’d stand out too much if we did that and it’s all over if the Faith Organization gets suspicious.”

“Then what do we do!?”

“I’ve marked certain spots on the map. We’ll divide the ant colony of tunnels into the human pathway and the water pathway. We just have to cover up all of the branches from the water one to make it a single route. If we pour water in there like a flash flood, it’ll work just like a pipe.”

Quenser pointed his thumb back at the hydroelectric power station.

“Lost Angels’s power is unstable and blackouts are common, right? The data we have says the power company had started to add more turbines but stopped construction for a variety of reasons. There should be bags of quick-dry cement piled up like sandbags, so let’s borrow those.”

“Well, isn’t that nice. You’re suggesting we steal civil property like it’s nothing. You really have been dyed in the colors of Lost Angels, haven’t you?”

“Did you know cement has an expiration date? They’d have to throw those things out like box lunches at a convenience store anyway. Another nation’s military is disposing of it for them, so they should actually thank us.”

“Yeah, and readily making excuses like that is also part of the Lost Angels way of life. Let’s call this being ecological. That stuff would be wasted in the hands of those morons.”

The two idiots continued to complain as they smashed the lock to the giant storehouse next to the power station. The bags of cement looked a lot like bags of rice or flour, but they were a lot heavier.

The very first one just about crushed Quenser.

“You idiot! Quenser, don’t you know being frail is only a plus for sheltered rich girls!?”

“What is this…? Am I a slave being forced to build the pyramids?”

While Quenser groaned from the floor, the delicate-looking Putana Highball quickly placed three of the bags over her shoulder.

“Teacher.” Her expression was perfectly composed. “I think it’s about time we talked about what you owe me by this point.”

“Please no! If I do that with a genius Elite, I’ll end up buried in debt!!”

Quenser could not actually lift the bags of cement, so he ended up grabbing one by the edge and dragging it along.

They tied them to the back of their motorcycles with wire.

And of course, only those who could drive could sit in the driver’s seat.

“I really do think we need to talk about what you owe me.”

“No, wait. I don’t think you should judge a guy based on whether he knows how to drive a motorcycle or not. Even when I learned to play the guitar, it didn’t make me popular!!”

Heivia and Putana drove their off-road motorcycles into the smuggling tunnel, leaving Quenser and his complaints behind.

Millia came over to check on the boy as he spread a map on the hood of a car and checked the route with a military flashlight.

“Is everything going well?”

“Yes, a.s.suming my calculations are correct, using the giant pump to pour water into this one point will split along a number of routes but ultimately turn the opposite slopes of these three mountains into a water slide. If we can lure the Flyaway in, we can seal off his static electricity legs. There’s no escape for him.”

“From here, we can’t tell what’s happening on the other side, so you tell us when to send in the water.”

“Understood.”

In less than an hour, Heivia and Putana returned.

“This guy’s been flirting with a beautiful woman while we were out there sweating and doing construction work. Just how much are you going to enjoy the Lost Angels way of life!?”

“Rewarding the slacker feels like a rebellion against society to me,” added Putana.

After waiting for the other off-road motorcycles to get back, Quenser, Millia, and the others completely sealed off the tunnel entrance after connecting the two meter wide plastic pipe running from the giant pump.

Millia clapped her hands.

“Okay, head to the other side of the mountains through another tunnel. It’s time for round two.”

“Got it. Hey, Putana, you heard her, so let me ride your a.s.s again.”

Quenser hopped onto the back of Putana’s off-road motorcycle. Since he was researching cool ways to get on, he had likely gotten used to being treated as baggage.

As a jack of all trades, Heivia had no girl with him and he was muttering under his breath with a look in his eyes that suggested he was in serious need of some counseling.

“Maybe I should just throw away my license.”

“Listen, Heivia. You only score some points with their protective instincts if you can’t do it. If you can but you don’t, you aren’t going to catch any girl’s heart.”

“Teacher, can I just throw you off now?”

Regardless, Putana and Heivia drove their motorcycles into a different smuggling tunnel hidden partway up the mountain path.

There were no lights inside, so they only had the unreliable illumination of their headlights. The tunnel was less than two meters wide and the ground was b.u.mpy since it was hand-dug. Also, it had only been dug out, so there were no pillars or concrete to reinforce it.

Instead of an occult test of courage, it felt more suited for a frightening theme park attraction.

“This really feels handmade. It’s like a tunnel someone made for a summer project.”

There were concrete walls here and there, but they were probably what Heivia and the others had made from the quick-drying concrete.

The pathway for dozens of tons of water was on the other side of those walls.

After traveling about seven kilometers, they left the tunnel on the other side of the mountain.

They braked and viewed the mountain scenery from the tunnel exit.

“Looks like the Princess has gotten started,” said Heivia while still sitting on his motorcycle.

A low, heavy roar echoed around them like storm clouds approaching from the distance.

That was the sound of a static electricity propulsion device.

“Sounds like we’ve poked at the hornet’s nest well enough. That king of chickens is showing himself!!”

Something like a giant insect sat on the slope like a row of fangs belonging to some ferocious beast towering into the heavens.

That nuke-resistant insect had eight legs and a removable main cannon attached to its fattened spherical body.

It sent out the White Flag signal with reckless abandon and it had no problem making civilian sacrifices to get a shot in.

Quenser gulped and named the crazed insect.

“The Faith Organization’s Second Generation Object, the Flyaway!!”

Despite everything else going on, the main player on the battlefield was the Princess and the Baby Magnum, so Quenser held his radio in one hand as he waited with the others.

“The enemy falls back as soon as he fires his first shot, so to catch him in our trap, you need to delay his first shot as much as possible and lure him as far forward as you can. Don’t give him a chance to aim. Keep firing to force him to move left and right while you back away bit by bit. That will draw him over this way.”

“Understood, Quenser.”

“He believes he can escape no matter what, so he’ll get bolder. It shouldn’t be too hard to have him get carried away. If you’re confident enough, you can even pretend to slip on the steep slope. He should jump at that chance.”

“So I just have to ensure my safety while intentionally stimulating his greed? That should be easy.”

As Quenser spoke with the Princess via radio, Putana observed the boy from the side.

That Pilot Elite would bring about the conclusion, she held everyone’s lives in her hands, and everyone relied on her.

That should have been Putana’s place, too.

“Hm? What is it?” asked Quenser.

“Nothing.”

An ear-splitting explosion tore through the mountains.

The Baby Magnum’s coilgun main cannon had ripped through the air at supersonic speeds to create a sonic boom as it instantly flew toward the Flyaway.

Using that as its cue, the Flyaway also began to move.

The enemy Object moved in a small circle on the steep slope to avoid the sh.e.l.l and then approached the Baby Magnum.

Its main cannon was made from a honeycomb of containers and it creaked as it aimed.

It specialized in a spray of attacks that filled an entire surface.

To put it another way, it was a one-time attack that had to be held in reserve.

Or so they had thought, but it was acting oddly.

Explosive sounds burst from the Flyaway again and again.

Instead of its main cannon, it was firing smaller railguns and rapid-fire beam cannons that were of no use in an Object vs. Object battle.

“Wah!?”

“That b.a.s.t.a.r.d is destroying this mountain!!”

Quenser and the others frantically got down as a concerning crumbling sound came from overhead…no, near the peak of the mountain. A full-on landslide had apparently begun further down and a wall of dust completely enveloped and hid everything near the surface.

The Princess’s Baby Magnum was no exception.

All of the dirt flowed down the slope, the slope itself began to fall, and it all continued further and further down. That overwhelming current slowed the Baby Magnum’s movements. Staying put on the slope was the most it could manage and it could not keep up its sharp movements.

“Not good. The Princess has been stopped! If that thing gets close, she’ll be turned to Swiss cheese by its main cannon!!”

“But there’s nothing we can do. Even if six of her main cannons are blown away and the spherical main body is blasted open like an empty can, we’ll still win if she can move at the end. We need him to get carried away and get close. Otherwise, our trap won’t work!!”

The Flyaway approached further when it saw the Princess’s confusion.

It was now within range of its main cannon.

“Hey!”

“Not yet!! If he’s only on the edge of the effective range, he’ll just escape backwards once it starts. We need to lure him into the center of the effective range so he’ll be swept away by the water slide no matter which way he tries to escape!!”

The Princess could no longer put on an act.

Based on how much she was struggling, it seemed certain the Flyaway was going to win.

The Flyaway continued to advance.

It approached the vertical slope looking down on Quenser’s group.

“Okay.”

The student pressed his thumb down on his radio’s switch.

The shortened number sent out a sign to Millia Newburg and the others waiting on the other side of the mountain. That single b.u.t.ton set the giant pump