Editing HEAVY OBJECT:Volume10 Chapter 1 (section)

===Part 3===

“It’s all wrong!! You can’t set off all of the explosives at once! You start over there and move this way!! You add a lag into the detonation time to create a wave! Why do I even have to explain this to you morons!? Every last person in the audience would notice immediately!!”

As the director complained far too much for a man his age, Frolaytia held her head in her hands.

In truth, she and the 37th Mobile Maintenance Battalion were in the middle of a military operation. They had a target they were meant to destroy and they should have sent the Object out right away.

They were in the White Sea District, a battlefield country sandwiched between the Legitimacy Kingdom’s Volga District and the Northern Restricted Zone.

That frozen land was ruled by blizzards of -30 degrees during the winter, but things were different in April.

Simply put, the melted snow created swamp-like sludge for over ten thousand square kilometers.

This was not good news for the Baby Magnum’s static electricity propulsion device that had to attach floats for naval battles. They were waiting to see how it could cross the deep swamp that caused tanks and armored trucks to sink.

(But we’d never hear the end of it from the inspectors if we just sat here doing nothing. No one wants to listen to them asking if we’re having flower viewings on the people’s tax money, so we were forced to deal with a low-priority matter.)

“Besides, the full cooperation of the military is only added value.”

The director – she could not remember his name – spoke in a voice considerably too high-strung for his body type.

“It’s like a preorder bonus, a limited-time-only product, your first love, or a girl’s virginity. Those things are only a bonus. If the base product is awful, it’s meaningless. So why do you have to, y’know, be tripping me up like this…”

“Ahhh, I want to punch this guy.”

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

Frolaytia used every muscle in her face to maintain her smile.

As part of their image campaign, the Legitimacy Kingdom was engaging in information manipulation to send out the disturbing message of, “The military is full of good people☆ The Legitimacy Kingdom are the good guys☆” She would ruin all of that if she went on a rampage and caused an unnecessary incident here, so she was forced to shake her butt like a model when she walked, smile like a saleswoman, and keep her back straight and her chest out to accentuate her bust. If an intelligence officer had not spent three days and three nights explaining the logic of this operation, that middle-aged man would be hanging upside-down from a helicopter as he was dragged through the swamp.

Her information terminal rang.

She checked the screen and found it was from a major general who was probably enjoying a round of golf in a safe country.

“So how does it feel to deal with those fools who have never seen real war?” asked the man. “I have to deal with them in meetings year-round.”

“This has been an important lesson that using someone is a lot harder than just killing them. In fact, that lesson is still ongoing.”

“Peace is precious and we will do whatever it takes to maintain it. As a soldier, you must never forget that original purpose of ours. And if you gain the patience to remove your claws and fangs, maintain a smile, loosen your necktie, undo the top three buttons of your blouse, and show off your cleavage in front of the camera like the director wants, then you might just have a future as a soldier who lives a life of luxury without ever visiting the battlefield.”

“This may be too forward, but I will kill you, sir.”

“Hah hah hah. You really are more suited for the battlefield. And I suppose it’s about time we ended this lesson of yours.”

“Meaning?”

“The plan your battalion suggested was approved. Find a good stopping point for the work there and head to the next site. War is waiting, major.”

Frolaytia instinctually gave a crisp salute.

“I love you, sir.”

“Hah hah hah. Now you’re being a little too friendly. If I were half a century younger, my heart might have skipped a beat.”

“I’ll tell your wife you said so, sir.”

“Do you ''want'' to see a man in his seventies cry?”