Editing HEAVY OBJECT:Volume15 Chapter 2 (section)

===Part 1===

Bloodrics Capistrano chose the “beaten up” option.

“Pant, pant, pant!!”

“…G-gbweh. Wait, it would really help your Onii-chan if you ended this attack…”

Frolaytia Capistrano gasped for breath while holding her brother’s bowtie in her left hand. Her dominant hand was of course clenched in a fist.

They were in a military port of the Amazon District where the Legitimacy Kingdom held a lot of sway.

They were a few hours away from the Central American ocean. They had taken a submarine which clearly had too much speed and stealth for civilian ownership. Its distress signal had been picked up and the few survivors, including Frolaytia, had set foot on dry land once more.

After arguing with her blood relative in a guest room for noble visitors, the busty silver-haired 18-year-old clicked her tongue and let go of the trash. She then spoke to the laptop sitting on the heavy work desk.

“Princess. Things have calmed down here for the time being. You’ve gathered enough information, so return to base before you go too far and get burned.”

“But…”

“…I know what you’re trying to say, but if we waste our trump card here, we really will lose all means of rescuing our people from the Bermuda Triangle.”

Needless to say, Frolaytia and the others had not been sitting around doing nothing.

The Princess’s Baby Magnum was a multi-role First Generation that could race along the ocean at more than 500km/h and swap between multiple different main cannon types: low-stability plasma cannons, railguns, coilguns, laser beams, rapid-fire beam cannons, etc. Even if it could not immediately supply a decisive blow, it was the perfect Object for directly engaging the enemy force to get a sense for what it could do.

And what had they learned after firing various types of cannons from a distance with no expectation of a hit?

“Electronic simulation division.”

“We only have rough estimates, but we have finished analyzing the footage.”

Frolaytia spoke to a different channel and received an immediate response from one of the experts who continued working with what equipment had survived. She was clearly exhausted, but there was no dissatisfaction in her voice. Everyone knew it was only coincidence that they had been protected. If the luck of the draw had placed them in the other category, they would have been devoured by the Information Alliance.

“To start with, the Manhattan really does have extraordinary firepower. That electromagnetically-launched reactor cannon is essentially detonating a JPlevelMHD reactor with each shot. By firing that main cannon in every direction like the face of a clock, it could entirely surround itself with a wall of plasma like some kind of fortress city.”

“That’s a lot like an old-fashioned ABM system…or a defensive theory using nuclear mines.”

Frolaytia stuffed unique-smelling shredded tobacco into her long and narrow ''kiseru'' as she spoke.

Laser beams were light, so they could be bent if high temperatures altered the refractive index. Plasma and rapid-fire beams were weak to electromagnetism. Railguns and coilguns used metal shells, so their trajectory could be bent using expanding air or explosive blasts.

Simply put, an absolute defense was possible if you forced it through with enough firepower.

However, it was a strategy only possible for the Manhattan and its hundreds or possibly thousands of reactors.

“But it didn’t do that, did it? It only used the electromagnetically-launched reactor cannon the very first time.”

“Yes. And the theory of bending a laser was also used by the Nitrogen Mirage. It still used ultra-high temperatures – albeit not as high – but it achieved that by firing low-stability plasma fireballs around the battlefield and then firing the laser beam or railgun. It was a lot like a rollercoaster. It ignores all existing artillery theories.”

But when the Manhattan had responded to the Princess’s “test firing”, it had not filled the area with firepower; it had returned fire with pinpoint sharpshooting. It had shot down each of the Baby Magnums various shells and lasers like a venomous snake targeting mice or frogs.

The metal shells had been fried with electron beams or laser beams.

The optical weapons had been reflected and neutralized by metal shells.

“So far, it has only intercepted our attacks, but if it goes on the attack itself, the Baby Magnum will not last five minutes,” said the electronic simulation division.

“Ah, you idiot!!”

Frolaytia tried to stop her, but it was too late.

The Princess was already childishly pouting her lips on the screen.

“I don’t mind. Because it’s true. Hehh, hohh, hmm.”

“Listen, everyone can get along when things are going well. The true value of teamwork is when things are going badly. Everyone needs to keep that in mind!!”

“Also,” continued the electronic simulation division. “Including Manhattan’s visitors, there should be more than 10 million civilians onboard. If they are used as hostages, any direct attack will be a target of international criticism.”

“Have you not even noticed the trouble you’ve caused us, you geek!?”

Frolaytia shouted, but the Princess still looked suspicious. She brushed back the short blonde hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, unzipped her special suit, and sprayed a coolant directly on her flushed soft skin. Everyone, including the analyst, was female, so she did not need to restrain herself.

The fact that arrogant Frolaytia had to act as a cushion for her showed just how chaotic the 37th Mobile Maintenance Battalion’s situation was.

(Heivia can wait until later, but we really need Quenser back immediately!!)

Frolaytia placed a hand on her forehead while having that very rude thought.

And as stated, they could not use an Object’s firepower to fry 10 million civilians, even if they belonged to an enemy nation. Thus, the Baby Magnum had made sure its main cannons would not hit during its reconnaissance mission.

…Of course, that was also because moving too close before understanding their enemy’s specs was likely to result in the Baby Magnum being turned to ashes by a variety of super weapons, including the electromagnetically-launched reactor cannon.

The Manhattan had easily fired a deadly blast from New York to New Caribbean Island – from North America to Central America.

The Princess used her small hand to fan air into her opened special suit and made a suggestion while sounding dazed from the heat.

“Since it intercepts attacks that are not actually going to hit, could we fire randomly but rapidly so it uses up all its ammo?”

“It’s not a bad idea, but remember how large the Manhattan is. Even if it’s forced into back-to-back battles without resupplying, we’ll dry up first.”

What could they do?

How could they supply an effective blow to that monster?

(If a direct attack won’t work, I guess we’ll have to try some kind of trick. Like sending a small group right up to that giant thing…)

Frolaytia narrowed her eyes with a quiet look on her face, but then slowly shook her head.

Had she been infected by those idiots’ way of thinking?

The Princess breathed a heated sigh and spoke with a blank look in her eyes.

“I want to see Quenser and the others soon.”

(Agreed. This is hard work without anyone to shove the most annoying parts onto.)

Frolaytia kept that part to herself and then spoke up.

“Analyst, the Martini Series holds the AI network’s reins, so why do you think they authorized this?”

“That is unknown, including just how many of them have malfunctioned. We simply have too little information to say. But assuming they are not wishing for their own destruction, I can’t imagine why they would send the Manhattan to the front line on its own…”

“…”

“Capulet is an AI network. If it sees no special meaning in the loss of individual physical devices, then it might view even the Manhattan as a disposable game piece.”

“If the algorithm was that digitally destructive, I doubt the Information Alliance would have prospered as much as it has. At the very least, it would not be so accepting of the highly-wasteful lifestyles of humans.”

If not all that many Martinis had actually lost control, it would explain why Manhattan itself had taken action all of a sudden. But they had no real evidence and the situation was fluid. And if the other Martinis were affected in a rapid chain reaction, it would hardly matter.

“Any sign of our people who disappeared at sea?”

“None at all. Our embassies and consulates have received no notification that they were taken prisoner. …We cannot even say whether they are still alive or not.”

“It’s too late to go check the Information Alliance maintenance fleet that was nearly obliterated by their own side. I wish we had at least sent out a spy plane to keep an eye on it, but it’s simply too late. Thanks to a certain moron!!”

Bloodrics responded to Frolaytia’s shout by raising both hands without getting up off the floor.

“Tia-chan, you know that would not have been realistic either way, don’t you?” said the pummeled brother. “Even if you had accomplished something then, they would have gotten serious and vaporized New Caribbean Island.”

An alarmed cry came from the screen.

Bloodrics could not see the laptop screen from his position, but the Princess must not have known that. As soon as she heard a male voice, she blushed and quickly held the front of her special suit closed with her small hands.

Frolaytia ignored that and spoke coldly to her blood-related brother.

“So what?”

“If no one reports on it, no one would know any of your people were left with the Information Alliance maintenance fleet. Then there would be zero hope of rescue for them.”

“…”

The brother’s point made the sister grimace so hard she nearly bit off the end of the long, narrow ''kiseru'' in her mouth. He was right, but she did not want to accept it. Anyone could tell just by looking at her.

There was nothing they could do.

But that did not mean they had no thoughts on the matter.

They knew their comrades were clinging to life on a deadly battlefield across the ocean where they could not even ask for help, but they could not reach out a hand. They wished they could trade places. That was not just a nice thing to say after seeing some tragedy on TV. They all meant it. Otherwise, they would not have forced their exhausted bodies to keep moving and continued gathering information without any sleep or complaint. The Pilot Elite, the base commander, the maintenance soldiers, and the analysts were all in agreement on that.

Bloodrics Capistrano understood that.

And that was why he had done more than ''just'' flee.

“I provided a starting point for you. How is he doing?”

“Rigas Blackpassion was one of the people on that Capitalist Corporations submarine.”

“But you saw that report that he said something interesting, didn’t you?” Bloodrics got up from the floor. “The Ragnarok Script. It seems to be a toy capable of interfering with the Martini Series that forms the core of the Information Alliance. Although we don’t know if they inject something of pure data into their heads or stimulate their senses using pheromones, ultrasound, flashing lights, or whatever else. That means solving this might require more than simply attacking the Information Alliance. This might sound somewhat dirty, but this Ragnarok Script might be an opportunity for us. …If an external attack looks hopeless, causing them to crumble from within might create enough of a ‘crack’ to rescue your people stranded in that deadly ocean.”

“…”

Frolaytia clicked her tongue again and sent a fist into the center of Bloodrics face for getting carried away.

Without even a glance toward her collapsed brother, the sister left the guest room with her laptop full of classified information. She walked to the interrogation room with some large men from base security. There, she found an upper middle-aged man bound by leather belts to something like a dentist’s chair.

The long-haired, gloomy, and timid interrogator girl whispered to Frolaytia. Her face was hidden by her bangs, an eyepatch, a mask, and some headphones, so her nickname when she was younger may have been Kuchisake Onna.

“H-he seems to have lost a lot of blood when Sir Bloodrics severed his hand with a katana, so I need to stabilize his blood pressure first. We should be able to administer the drug after that, so, um…”

“Rigas Blackpassion,” cut in Frolaytia. “The Ragnarok Script. I want to know what that means. Did you really procure it yourself? I doubt a small fry like you is pulling all the strings. What is hidden behind the scenes?”

The Capitalist Corporations man raised his limply-hanging head.

“I don’t expect the war treaties to apply in this sealed room…but my life still has value. Look at my arm. Ha ha. Push me too hard and I’ll die before you can get any information out of me. Treat me with care or you will be wasting your time.”

“Is that so?”

There was nothing more than that.

Frolaytia must not have been expecting anything from the beginning because she casually glanced over at the interrogator who had desperately hidden her face.

“The plan was to loosen his lips by ridding him of his mental willpower with a drug, right?”

“Y-yes, um, we will be using an animal anesthetic. It’s the same idea as someone talking more readily when they’re sleep-deprived or intoxicated. But before any of that, we have to give him a blood transfusion to stabilize his blood pressure…”

“No, that gives us another option. Hold this a moment.”

“?”

Frolaytia pushed her laptop into the interrogator’s arms, shocking the flat-chested girl into silence.

And with a dry gunshot, a dark red hole opened in Rigas’s neck.



“Ah…bah?”

There was a blank in his memories.

As Rigas looked over his sweaty body, he tasted a rusty flavor spreading through the back of his throat, saw dark, dried blood on his uniform, and felt the pain receding. He must have been given some kind of anesthetic.

The Capitalist Corporations officer blinked in confusion at the unnatural passage of time and Frolaytia spat some disinterested words his way.

“Your heart stopped for about 1 minute 45 seconds. From the shock of blood loss. You should be thankful Luce was skillful enough to revive you.”

His breathing was not functioning properly.

He heard a whistling sound with each breath.

“Y-you’re kidd-…”

Another bang.

“35 seconds.”

“Wait, are you saying you-…”

“1 minute 2 seconds.”

“Abbeh. Gurgle gurgle…”

“Oh, that was a close one. You were out for 2 minutes and 30 seconds.”

A yes or no answer changed nothing. To transform him into a human device that would spit out whatever they wanted to know, his mind had to be thoroughly torn down first. The violence would continue until Rigas Blackpassion no longer said anything unnecessary.

Each time his consciousness cut out and returned, the amount of boxy medical equipment surrounding the dentist-like chair had increased. At this point, the electronics probably weighed more than Rigas himself.

For some reason, the interrogator girl (who was now soaked with blood) was gagging and crying behind her eyepatch and mask more than the Capitalist Corporations officer himself.

The look in Frolaytia’s eyes had not changed. The handgun drawn from her hip was still aimed directly at him.

“Not even an expert can completely control the revival. So it might not work next time.”

“…You…what about the war treaties…the fundamental articles on treatment of prisoners…?”

He was killed twice more.

Rigas was now covered in tubes. He had essentially been turned into a living mummy and was nearly encased in the blocks of medical equipment. And Frolaytia’s eyes were even colder than the machinery.

“Blood loss intoxication. That’s the excuse used by perverts with an abnormal fetish for drinking blood or having their own blood drunk. It’s also theorized to explain why a police officer can dramatically stand back up after being shot in the gut. If all we need to do is adjust your body’s internal state to loosen your lips, we don’t need to inject a drug. We only need to cause enough blood loss to leave you woozy. Of course, take too much and you’ll die before telling us anything, so it isn’t exactly favored by experts. And sure enough, you’re approaching death pretty quickly now.”

They were neither killing him nor not killing him.

Her casual tone led the Capitalist Corporations officer to move his tense vocal cords and force out the words.

“Y-you’re insane…”

“Don’t even try it, you fool. I’m the piece of shit that retreated to this safe base while ignoring so many of my people who needed help. And yet you think ''your'' life should be guaranteed when you’re the one that messed with the Information Alliance and set up some kind of conspiracy? Just how convenient a world do you think you live in!?”

He could no longer speak.

While Rigas gasped as he struggled to breath, Frolaytia Capistrano pressed her handgun muzzle to the center of his forehead and roared at him while the heat sizzled on his skin.

“I will do whatever it takes to get the information I need to rescue those idiots. The Ragnarok Script. Either tell me everything you know or you can continue playing ding dong dash at the pearly gates!! Now, what will you do, you piece of shit!!!????”