Editing HEAVY OBJECT:Volume12 Chapter 7 (section)

===Part 1===

It was the seventh and final day.

If they did not settle things and secure an escape route from Second Venice today, they would run out of food and water and everyone would die, military and civilian alike.

They got as much rest as they could beforehand.

Win or lose, this battle would decide everything, so they could not afford to be worn out.

Do-or-die was not a phrase to be used lightly, but it was an accurate description of the situation for the Legitimacy Kingdom’s 37th Mobile Maintenance Battalion.

“Let’s review the situation.”

Early in the morning, Frolaytia Capistrano had summoned everyone in the battalion to the briefing room.

She removed the restrictions on knowledge about the infection base and killer mold and shared the details with everyone.

“The Argeiphontes is the primary component of a poison gas, but Quenser and Catherine’s cases have proven that the antidote is effective. The electronic simulation division is busy putting together a report. You could say they’re putting some pretty wrapping paper around the unadorned present, but once they’re done, the Information Alliance will lose their justification for their blockade. Once they understand that people can be tested for an infection and that the infected can avoid certain death with the antidote, their indiscriminate quarantine becomes nothing more than a human rights violation.”

A mixture of surprise and relief filled the briefing room.

They had simultaneously been informed of the deadly mold and the fact that they need not fear it. They must not have had time to decide whether or not to feel frightened.

“Thus, there is no need to force a confrontation with the Information Alliance’s Rush. With their justification gone, they should blush and withdraw in embarrassment. …The problem is this: The Faith Organization’s First Generation Old Fashion.”

Its technology was inferior even to the Baby Magnum’s.

That solitary ace could have switched to a cutting-edge derivate model at any time, but he had stubbornly stuck with the old model to keep a promise with an old friend. That should have fully cut him off from the flow of time, but he had continued to battle cutting-edge Objects in his First Generation. He was enough of a genius to make up for the inadequate technology with his piloting skill. He was brilliant enough to pull off that one-man showmanship inside the military, an organization that wished for group action from top to bottom.

“Robert Mistynail.” Frolaytia spoke the monster’s name. “He is the greatest success and his name always shows up in reference material concerning Pilot Elite development. Supercomputers have supposedly ‘solved’ chess to a level that no human can defeat them, but he has the insane brain needed to ignore that conclusion and win three world championships. He is reliable yet unpredictable. A group of Information Alliance scientists attempted to fine-tune a competitive AI learning program for use against him specifically, but they ended up throwing in the towel. Legend has it those scientists got drunk at a bar near their lab and were overheard complaining that his synapses had to form a wormhole.”

The Old Fashion and the Lizard Tail were both from the Faith Organization.

And the Old Fashion had made an attempt to defeat the Rush and rescue the civilians trapped in Second Venice. If he had known about the infection base from the beginning, that would mean he had tried to spread the deadly mold carriers throughout the world.

Frolaytia than named someone else with her kiseru in her mouth.

“Quenser.”

“Yes?”

“You were the one who interacted with the Old Fashion ''afterwards'', so you explain it.”

It was now the student’s turn to get up on the podium.

“I don’t know how it started. Maybe he was working with Hermes and maybe he wasn’t. But at the very least, Robert has now left the plan to break through mankind’s upper limits using the Argeiphontes. His actions appear gentlemanly at first glance, but that was only the setup. He was setting the stage to give him a justification for an enjoyable battle. Both breaking through mankind’s upper limits and rescuing the starving people from Second Venice would have worked just fine for him.”

On Quenser’s instruction, a soldier from the electronic simulation division in charge of voice analysis replayed the master data.

“This is the radio transmission I received on the way back with antidote yesterday. The analysis says it was definitely Robert.”

The recording said as follows:

''“I see. So the tide is turning. Having the Legitimacy Kingdom and Information Alliance join forces to protect Second Venice while I aim to destroy it might just be the most exciting possibility.”

“He went out of his way to announce his intentions.” Quenser explained how dangerous Robert Mistynail was. “It would have been easy to act like he was on our side only to stab the Princess and Oh Ho Ho in the back. If they were escorting a fleet carrying civilians to safety, the Baby Magnum and Rush would have been unable to make use of their great speed for fear of sinking those ships. By announcing his hostility, he put us on guard before we began a largescale escape operation. And he even gave us the best possible advice: our best bet is to have the Princess and Oh Ho Ho work together. This is the true nature of an ace. He wants to experience genius and see truly superb people. That sounds fine on its own, but he’s really only in it for the fun. He wants to experience as great a thrill as possible. I don’t know what age he comes from, but he wants to be reminded of old times. By stubbornly sticking with that outdated Object, he wants to once more enjoy an age frozen in the past. That is his only reason for piloting his Object.”

Robert Mistynail was indeed a genius Object pilot.

But it was impossible for him to function within an organization like the military.

The military likely had no intention of getting him to listen. They simply let him loose where it was convenient and reaped the benefits. It was a lot like turning a naturally-occurring typhoon or hurricane toward an enemy nation. The fact that he had something that made the military want to protect him made him seem all the more monstrous.

“We cannot avoid a battle with him,” summed up Frolaytia. “He knows Second Venice’s food and water limit and he will use that to force us into a naval battle. He has heard the legends of the abnormal strength of injured animals and starving soldiers, so he is licking his lips in anticipation of discovering if they are true or not.”

“Frolaytia, have you contacted the Rush…or rather, the Information Alliance?”

“I’m about to. We have no room for negotiation until we can logically explain the traits of the deadly mold and that there is no need for an indiscriminate quarantine. But once the electronic simulation division completes their report, that should go well. This whole incident had to have hurt the Information Alliance’s diplomatic image. I can’t say all’s well that ends well, but if they can work toward as peaceful a resolution as possible, they might be able to avoid a concentrated attack by global public opinion.”

“In other words, the Information Alliance will have to act tough while making sure they do what we want, huh? Yeah, if we don’t ask them for help, they’re stuck being the villains here. …Damn that Oh Ho Ho. I’ll make her bark for me but only after getting down on all fours and spinning around thrice.”

“Try not to mix business with pleasure, Quenser. …But it’s true this could be fun. Threatening their commander over the camera might not be a bad idea.”

They were mixing in some fun even with their lives and the futures of hundreds of thousands of civilians on the line, but that was the 37th’s style.

To get back on track…

“The Old Fashion itself is an old model, so we have quite a bit of data on it. It uses a simple two-by-two layout of amphibious air cushions and its main cannon is a tricky compressed metal cannon, but it’s pretty standard if you view it as a metal shell fired by gunpowder. …In fact, it looks like we won’t have any problems with both the Baby Magnum and Rush to work with, so I’m not really sure what else to do. This should be an easy victory, and yet we’re cornered. It’s like running across a situation where one plus one isn’t two.”

If they chalked it up to a difference in Elite skill, the discussion ended there.

To win, they needed to keep thinking in some way or another.

“He uses countless tactics, so the electronic simulation division can’t keep up. The one thing we can say is that he is not making up for his old tech by eliminating all waste and reaching the optimal answer. In fact, he would be a lot easier to predict if that were the case. The Old Fashion is…how should I put it? He seems to add some meaningless playfulness and leeway into his strategies. It was likely the way he strays from the optimal answer that kept the Information Alliance’s competitive AI from catching up with him.”

''He probably enjoys fighting,'' thought Quenser.

Or perhaps he was addicted to the thrill of putting his life in danger. No AI focused on logic and efficiency could outdo him. And that included this ultimate Elite’s insane desire to use his outdated Object against someone technologically superior to him.

He was strong.

He was simply strong.

He was an old-fashioned style of strong that tried to enjoy the difference in specs and even the difference in number of Objects. He was a living embodiment of a legendary warrior. Instead of fearing a formidable foe or growing irritated at a difficult situation, this insane genius would laugh, thank them for giving him a chance to get serious, and pleasantly break through it all.

He wished to converse with a true genius through the medium of combat.

If that really was his only goal, then the Old Fashion would have no interest in Second Venice. He saw the island as bait for the Baby Magnum and Rush, but it was no more than that. After destroying the two Objects, he might even open the way for the starving people because they were of no more use to him.

The people comfortable in their safe countries on the other side of the world might see that has a gentleman’s or warrior’s heart. When some heard the story with handkerchief in hand, they might even think about basing a new song or movie on it.

But the people here would lose everything.

They could not allow the Princess or Oh Ho Ho to be chewed up and spat out by him.

They would defeat him here.

“What do we do?” groaned Heivia. “Is there any way to beat this guy?”

“There is,” answered Quenser. “We just have to take that playfulness and leeway from him. If we do, won’t he have to recompile his actions into something we can predict?”