Editing HEAVY OBJECT:Volume18 Chapter 1 (section)

===Part 14===

They waited until the following morning.

The battle would begin once the sun had risen.

Braskine Mintfrappe’s impatience had him in an irritable mood.

“Hey, how long are we going to wait here? The largescale retaliation begins this afternoon, doesn’t it? That’s not long now!”

“I really would have preferred to wait longer, but you’re right about us running out of time,” said Quenser after waking from a nap. “Things have heated up now, so I guess we should get started.”

Heivia walked up and whispered to him. His face was greasy since he had not had a chance to wash it.

“(Gotta admit, this is clever.)”

“Huh?”

“(Cut the act. You don’t have any plan at all for the Lunchboxes, do you? You’re just buying enough time for the retaliation operation to begin. But I say we forget about letting them pick us up. Why not let them think we’re dead while we run off to a tropical island? We can reveal our ‘miraculous survival’ once we’ve got a nice tan. So just keep lying to that guy while the clock ticks down until the afternoon.)”

After satisfying himself by punching that heartless bastard, Quenser got down to business.

Quenser and Heivia had no equipment that could accurately pass their location to the Legitimacy Kingdom. And even if they did, the jamming would block it. Once the retaliation operation began, they would be blown away as much as any of guerillas. The only question was whether it would be Myonri in a tank or the Princess in her Object that did it.

The skinny boy rapped his hand against the hood of the beat-up truck.

“That should about do it. Braskine, let’s get started. Given the current wind direction, we can start heading northwest.”

“What are you- hold on, what’s that?”

Quenser answered Heivia while showing off what was filling the heavy sack he held.

There was a black powder inside.

“I cleaned out the truck and buggy’s mufflers yesterday. That was a much bigger job than cleaning up a kitchen’s grease stains.”

“Nitrogen oxide?” The young doctor looked puzzled. “Are you saying we can defeat those unmanned ground vehicles with that? They’re machines, so poisons don’t work on them.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

They did not want to trigger any explosion that would draw a lot of attention, so it would be best to quietly stop the machinegun-equipped hunks of metal from operating without even having to approach them.

(That elevator is constantly casting a giant shadow here. The contrast between light and shadow will create a temperature difference and that will create air currents.)

Quenser dug through the powder as he thought.

Braskine still looked skeptical.

“You really think this will work?”

“They’re using the same thing themselves.”

Quenser got down on the cracked ground and peered out from behind a boat left out here. He could see one of those 3m boxes a few hundred meters away. Maybe it was to preserve power and maybe it was to avoid being caught in the artificial meteor shower, but they did not seem to move unless something warranted it.

They still blocked the way as stationary turrets, but there was a way of using that.

Opportunities always came with risk.

The student gently lowered something to the dry ground. It was a handmade unmanned device made from a container that resembled a cake box with wheels attached and had a cable coming from the back. It was even cheaper than the toys found at safe country electronics stores. But cheap as it was, it could still be operated from Quenser’s mobile device.

“I call it the Kitchen Knife.”

“Do you really have to name these things?” complained Heivia.

“I thought that looked awfully clean for a sweaty and sandy guerilla.”

Quenser pointed at the white coat Braskine was wearing.

It looked good as new after being washed with detergent, bleached, and starched.

“That’s thanks to the elevator, isn’t it? The Turkana District is under the control of a massive online shopping company, so you can find motors, batteries, sensors, and plastic boxes lying around everywhere here. Because they have delivery drones flying all over the place.”

“So you’re operating that thing via a cable?”

“Weapons like this have been around for a very long time. They predate the word drone for things like this. Besides, we can’t send wireless signals with the jamming in effect. And wired control has its advantages. It can only move 200m away from us, but it can also approach the enemy without the control signal being detected.”

The Kitchen Knife was only 30cm tall, so it could get stuck on the terrain pretty easily. A crack in the ground or even a small stone in the wrong spot were all it would take. They had to get as close as they could, control their precious device from there, and have it approach the unmoving Lunchbox.

They had already confirmed there were no cameras or sensors on the bottom of the Lunchboxes.

Once the Kitchen Knife had slipped below this one, Quenser tapped his mobile device’s screen while still hiding behind cover.

The result could not be called an explosion.

After a muffled sound, the Lunchbox was coated in black powder.

Quenser pulled the thin fiber optic cable back like he was reeling in a fishing line.

“Okay, that worked.”

“I seriously doubt that’s enough to destroy a Capitalist Corporations unmanned weapon.”

“You’re right about that, doc, but the point was to color its surface black.” Quenser grinned. “This is Africa near the equator. Once the sun rises, it’s so blazing hot that the land here is all dry and cracked. And needless to say, black absorbs light most efficiently.”

“Oh,” said Braskine.

“Since the Lunchboxes are covered on all sides with solid armor, I was curious how they managed to cool their electronics. They clearly aren’t using air cooling and even liquid cooling would need to expose the metal pipes to the air to remove heat from the coolant. Y’know, like a car’s radiator or that elevator’s heat exhaust. But the Lunchboxes had nothing like that. So how do they do it?”

There was nothing hidden below them either.

Quenser and Heivia had seen one slowly pass overhead while they were hiding in a crack in the ground, but they had not seen anything of the sort. It would also be foolish to put their weak point at the spot easiest to target with landmines.

So…

“Do they use the same method as modern smartphones and tablets?”

“Bingo. The metal exterior itself doubles as the cooling plate. By exposing that metal to the air, the heat inside can escape. That’s why those unmanned ground vehicles don’t have a wire mesh anywhere and why you can’t hear a vent fan turning. …So this should work. By coating them with a black substance, the sunlight will deliver the finishing blow. The cooling can’t keep up with the unexpected rate of heating. We don’t have to touch the weapons or the tracks when the overheating will shut down its computer. We just have to set things up so we could fry an egg on the hood, just like in an informercial for car wash soap.”

If they attacked with a flamethrower or napalm, the Lunchbox would quickly work to put out the fire. Either by rolling over to cover itself with sand or by triggering a nearby explosion to rob the fire of the oxygen it needed.

But they had not caused any major changes here.

Something had quietly ruptured below the Lunchbox where it lacked cameras and sensors, but it had been too small to call an explosion and the machine remained unharmed, only covered in a black powder. It might have felt a small tremor, but smaller than if its thick tracks crushed a rock and a piece struck it from below. It was unlikely that would trigger an error report or an emergency inspection.

Not even that cutting-edge unmanned ground vehicle would occasionally pull out a mirror to make sure its makeup was not coming off.

“But will that really stick to it? It’s just powder, right?”

“That depends on the material.” Quenser checked to make sure it had worked. “That thing is coated in sand, right? They’ve coated the metal armor with a gel to increase the cooling effect, so the powder will stick to it nicely. If that hadn’t worked, I was thinking of borrowing the starch you use for your white coat.”

They were not using any guns or knives, but the damage was increasing.

Once the heat had built up far enough, a slight change came over the Lunchbox. It tilted to the side. It had lost the ability to match the hydraulic cylinders of its tracks to the slant of the terrain. That was all it really was, but it almost looked like the machine had passed out.

“Heivia. Hey, Heivia. Attach your mid-range scope.”

“Shut up. Why should I have to help with this?”

“If you don’t want me tying you up and leaving you here as I head back to base, then get your gun ready and shoot that thing.”

After a gunshot muffled by the silencer, the rifle bullet knocked on the Lunchbox’s armor and sparks sprayed out, but there was no response from the machine.

The overheating had killed it.

“Okay, let’s move on.”

They turned back and set the beat-up truck in motion.

Quenser used a small knife to cut off the end of the fiber optic cable skinnier than pasta that he had reeled back in and he attached it to the back of another Kitchen Knife. They had needed to wait until the sun was out, but they had not spent that time doing nothing. They had prepared a large stock of wired drones.

It was a race against time.

The wait for the sun left them with less time before the retaliation operation. They had no time to spare.

The Lunchboxes generally stayed in standby mode until they were needed, but that did not mean they never moved. Even if the affected ones would fail to notice the change, another one might spot an unnaturally blackened Lunchbox. Once they knew that was not a simple malfunction or accident and it was in fact intentional sabotage using the sun, things would get way worse.

So they needed to escape before that happened.

They had to return to the Legitimacy Kingdom maintenance base zone.

“Lunchbox at 2 o’clock. Distance of 700,” said Braskine from the driver’s seat.

“There are too many cracks there for the Kitchen Knife to get through, so take a clockwise route around it. This side of things is lower down, so it probably won’t notice us. And if we run into another one that way, we can take care of it instead.”

The Kitchen Knife could incapacitate the Lunchboxes, but it required certain conditions to work. The terrain had to be fairly level and its wheels could get tangled in dried weeds if too many of those remained. Fine sand was also a risk. They had a lot of the black powder and the Kitchen Knives to transport it, but it was still not an unlimited supply. It was a nerve-wracking experience. If they did not choose the correct Lunchboxes to attack, they would find themselves at a dead end before long.

It was shockingly sunny yet again, but there were some white clouds in places. Those were artificial clouds created by the pressure difference of the elevator’s wires slicing through the wind. The clouds cast areas of shadow like an inverted spotlight and those shadows were like zones of death for Quenser’s group.

Braskine groaned.

He stepped out of the truck, got down on the ground, and looked downwind.

“The Lunchbox up there is in a shadow.”

“Stay still. We’re not talking about a daylong rain shower and the black powder has recolored its body. The artificial cloud will move on in time, so just wait. We’ll be fine.”

That “we’ll be fine” was more for Quenser to convince himself than the doctor.

Quenser did not want to die either. As things were, the Legitimacy Kingdom would begin a meaningless retaliation operation. That could get him killed by friendly fire, but it could also trigger the Lunchboxes into motion. Opportunities always came with risk. How many people knew where they were? Did the Princess? Did Frolaytia?

(That would never end well. It’s even possible we’d be crushed to death under the Princess’s ass.)

After all, they were talking about the 37th Mobile Maintenance Battalion which was led by a commander kind enough to react with even more surprise than Quenser each time a new Object made an appearance. She was responsible for so many lives he really wished she would gather more information in advance.

At any rate, his life was on the line here, so he wanted to take control.

But just then…

“Hey, something isn’t right,” said Heivia while waving his sensor-equipped rifle around.

Quenser had also noticed the sound of metal continuous tracks and clouds of sand rising into the air.

The Lunchboxes in the area were moving even though they were supposed to stay curled up in standby mode unless something was wrong.

“It’s the power vehicle,” spat out Quenser when he realized the truth.

A military vehicle larger than the 3m boxes was slowly approaching from the horizon. It was shaped like a large semi-trailer truck with two linked cargo containers attached. After seeing that, the unmanned ground vehicles left their positions to gather around it. Almost like children swarming a military convoy to beg for treats.

That set the entire area in motion.

Their temporary safe zone would not be safe for long. Quenser’s group had survived so long thanks to the tide pool, but they were now thrown out onto the exposed rock.

First, one Lunchbox spotted another one colored an unnatural black. Then it spotted the thin fiber optic cable running along the ground and its camera turned to follow that back to its source.

The unmanned ground vehicle turned on the spot and its eyes met Quenser’s.

It had noticed them.

“Dammit, get down!!”

The attack began with a horizontal burst from the heavy machinegun. Quenser and the others rolled to a lower point of the dry ground to avoid that, but then they heard several sounds like corks popping.

Grenades even larger than hand grenades were launched into the blue sky like a long throw in baseball.

Fourteen in all.

“!!”

Heivia grabbed the skinny boy’s uniform and dragged him below the truck.

The grenades detonated not three seconds after landing.

The explosions and impacts from above caused the beat-up truck to bounce up and down several times. The suspension must have broken partway through because it ended up tilted at an unnatural angle. If Quenser had not quickly pulled his legs in, they would have been pinned below the truck.

The explosives were only designed for anti-personnel use.

The heavy machinegun was actually the more frightening weapon when they had a truck.

Quenser grimaced at a ringing in his ears like someone had jammed an icepick into them. When he shouted, he felt like his voice was not reaching Heivia despite the boy being right next to him.

“What happened to the doctor? Where’s Braskine!?”

“How should I know!? He’s just one of the guerillas even if he did help us! Or would you prefer I rescued him and left you to die!?”

Quenser immediately silenced the stupid noble with a punch.

Heivia had been unconscious for so long he must not have remembered who had saved their lives after they were blown away by Myonri’s friendly fire. But Quenser knew. He knew it was silly, but he had gotten to know the man too well. He could not just abandon him now.

The scenery around them blurred.

The color of sand filled their vision and the sun dimmed like it was evening. A localized sandstorm must have whipped up.

This was their only chance.

“Why did this have to happen, dammit!?”

“Hey, wait! Quenser!!”

The student ignored his awful friend’s calls and crawled out from below the truck.

He already smelled blood.

He could barely see anything in the sandstorm, but that much he could tell. As he pushed his way through the thick curtain of sand, he spotted someone lying on their back.

It was Braskine Mintfrappe.

If the Capitalist Corporations really saw them as allies, that doctor never would have been caught in the attack by the unmanned weapon.

“Go,” said the man. “Hurry.”

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“Are you kidding me?”

“The truck isn’t going anywhere now, but there’s still the buggy in the back. The Lunchboxes can’t target you in the sandstorm, so get your bearings and then take a straight shot for your base. This is your only chance.”

“Are you kidding me!? I still haven’t repaid you for saving us!!”

Braskine smiled at that.

As a doctor, he would know better than anyone how bad it was he had gotten so much sand in his wound, but he showed no sign of caring.

“You’ve done enough. I’ve won just by finding someone who actually cares.”

“Cares about what?”

“You must stop the space elevator. You must stop Mother Lady.”

He was having trouble breathing, but he still got out his request while looking up at that colossal tower that would bring no one happiness.

“Stop it before it becomes a disaster even greater than a disease that can be prevented with a 5-dollar vaccine.”

“…”

“Mother Lady is too powerful a medicine. I’m certain ''she'' didn’t want this, so someone has to stop it. But no one ever cared no matter what I told them. Not even the parents whose kids had fought valiantly as guerillas only to die. None of them could give up the modern lifestyle Mother Lady gave them.”

“She?” asked Quenser without thinking.

But that may have been a mistake. The doctor uttered a name he had brought up a few times before.

“Louisiana was moved to emotion when she saw the beautiful nature of the Turkana District. That much I know is true.”

Quenser did not like where this was headed.

Braskine’s eyes began to focus on somewhere other than here and now.

“It happened back when I was in college.”

“Hey, now’s not the time for reminiscing.”

“That was where I met Louisiana who was studying aerospace engineering. It was a completely different field, but it didn’t take long before we hit it off. And she believed that a space elevator would shine a spotlight on Africa since the conditions needed for building one were so restrictive. But she was wrong. It pained her to see it and she wanted to save the Turkana District. She wondered why Africa and Europe were so different and what made the desert here so different from the ones in North America. She thought it was unfair to treat different lands so differently just because some terrains are easier to develop than others. Someone needed to stop her, but I couldn’t do it myself.”

“I said stop!! Come back to reality! Stop withdrawing into your memories!! Hey!?”

Quenser kept calling out to the man, but he had stopped moving altogether.

The powerful sandstorm blew right into his wide-opened eyes, but he did not even blink.

There was nothing Quenser could have done.

He looked away from the dead man and shook his head.

Then he returned to the slanted truck. Specifically, to the enclosed back of the truck. The surface was torn up, but that did not mean the contents had been.

“Heivia! Help me drag out the buggy. We need to get back alive no matter what!!”