Editing HEAVY OBJECT:Volume9 Chapter 3 (section)

===Part 5===

This time, they were in a sky blue convertible.

In what had become the usual course of events, Putana was driving and Quenser was the baggage in the passenger seat. The engine was a little loud, but it was a comfortable ride. Quenser messed with the radio and found a pirate broadcast announcing the current odds for the black market gambling.

Putana spoke up as they passed a large tour bus full of what looked like '''School Trip Students'''.

“That’s a PMC camouflaged as tourists. That does seem like something the Capitalist Corporations would do.”

“You’re kidding… Can you tell because they’ve been marked like how dogs go around peeing on stuff?”

Their goal as they raced through Lost Angels was not the expected attack point that Millia had given them. They were on their way to the Mustard Cowboy-run Hotel Grand Jackpot, a five star luxury hotel with the city’s largest casino.

Based on what Millia had said while bored during late night work, more money changed hands there than anywhere else in the city, but that was not due to the gambling. Basically, it was a luxury gathering spot for gang leaders to talk things out, make deals, resolve problems, and make connections. Paying bribes and depositing money in an underground bank were illegal activities, but nothing could be done if large sums of money moved from Person A to Person B in a bet at a legit casino. If they controlled who won the games of poker using code words in their conversations, the casino could be used for money laundering and deposits. To the Capitalist Corporations, the Legitimacy Kingdom was behind the times by nervously opening attaché cases in the harbor at night. Of course, that was according to the group that had failed to get their hands on that harbor.

That was just how dangerous a place the hotel was.

It would be absolutely filled with guns.

“Teacher, we’re disobeying orders, aren’t we?”

“If we pull it off, it’ll all cancel out in the end.”

“Is that the Lost Angels way of doing things?”

“No, it’s more like a summary of my entire life.”

The Hotel Grand Jackpot was in the western financial district. The district seemed filled with mirror-paneled intelligent buildings, but walls here and there were covered in yellow graffiti. That was the team color of Mustard Cowboy.

“Where do we go in?”

“The front entrance. It’s the city’s biggest casino and a luxury hotel, but it also has a restaurant and gym open to the public. It’s easier to get in as a customer than trying to sneak in.”

They were using a stolen car, so they could not leave the convertible with the valet driver at the entrance. They abandoned it in the street in front of the hotel and walked right in the main entrance.

The lobby was no different from any other hotel’s. There was the usual row of counters and a lounge selling coffee that was likely quite expensive. There were no gaudy bunny girls walking around shaking their butts. The money-making casino probably did not really begin until one took the escalator down to the casino section.

“This place really is run by the Capitalist Corporations,” said Putana. “The atmosphere is entirely different.”

“Is it?”

“Just to be clear, we’re from Azul Hive and they’re with Mustard Cowboy. If they decide to solve this problem as a gang rather than as the military, we won’t be protected by any treaties related to prisoners of war.”

“Wait a second, Putana. It’s that guy.”

Quenser spotted someone dangerous, but he did not jump behind a column. That would only draw more attention. He could not remember if the man’s name was John or George, but it was the former Mustard Cowboy leader they had abducted before.

The bearded man was muttering to himself as he crossed the lobby with several men in the kinds of suits stock brokers would wear.

“Honestly, I made sure to get that fake ID and handgun and here I am. I decided to steal the printing plates for the dollars or euros they rely on and taking over their business, so why am I here helping out some commoner nun?”

“Sigh. I get the feeling you could die a dozen times and it wouldn’t fix your weak mind and lack of planning. It would probably take one death per flaw.”

“Yeah? Then why are you working with me?”

The gang members passed by while speaking back and forth.

Fortunately, they did not seem to notice Quenser and Putana. They seemed to be headed toward the escalator to the casino rather than the elevators to the hotel rooms. Quenser and Putana started toward elevator hall by cutting across directly behind those gang members.

They boarded an elevator and Putana asked a question.

“We’re supposed to be searching the missing children’s rooms, but do you know what floor they were on?”

“Floor 38.”

“Based on what?”

“In a hotel for VIPs, the options are limited when you want to rent out an entire floor for a group. It has to be an unpopular floor. The elevators wait at the very top and very bottom, so it takes the longest for them to reach the floors in the middle. Now, Putana, how are the elevators laid out in this hotel?”

“Floors 1-5 are shared, but the rest is split between 6-25 and 26-50.”

“What matters is that these people were being welcomed as VIPs. That means the hotel couldn’t let them know they were being put on an unpopular floor. The hotel would put them on a higher floor to distract them with the wonderful night scenery.”

“Which means…”

“The center of the upper section. That means Floor 38.”

The elevator stopped on their destination floor and the door parted.

“Of course, that’s all something Millia told me when we were killing time.”

They entered the hall and found a long line of doors. The place had been rented out as a group, so any of the doors would lead to the rooms those genius boys and girls had stayed in.

“Even if they’re gone, I think the doors will be locked,” pointed out Putana.

“We’ll do this the Lost Angels way.”

“Blow off the doorknob with a shotgun?”

“We’ll be a little gentler than that.”

Quenser approached the icemaker, reached behind it, and pulled out the plug.

“Teacher?”

“Hey, Putana. This isn’t a military facility that stores important secrets. In case of unforeseen trouble, they’ll prioritize the safety of their guests and have all of the rooms unlock. For example…”

Quenser stuck his hand below the icemaker and grabbed some balls of dust.

He wrapped them around the power plug and stuck it back into the outlet.

This was the stereotypical cause of an electrical fire found in user’s manuals.

“When a small fire sets off the fire alarm.”



Heivia Winchell slowly stopped a garbage truck behind a narrow alley leading to Kiwi Street. The truck looked like a rectangular hunk of steel and he was making some attack preparations along with the assault team.

One might think stolen cars were all high-riding sports cars, but there was sometimes a demand for heavier vehicles like this. They were especially important when someone wanted to make sure they knocked their target off of the road, when someone wanted to make an assault amid gunfire, or when someone wanted to abandon them in the road to change their target’s plans.

Millia Newburg sat in the passenger seat.

She was trying to suppress a grin and she had a simple reason.

“Quenser and Putana have vanished. Do you think they’re refusing the mission?”

“Don’t joke. If they refuse to submit or receive their paperwork and then they vanish, they’ll be treated as deserters. Don’t they know that?”

“Well, Quenser’s a student and Putana’s a POW. They might just barely squeak by if it comes to a serious court martial. Of course, we use corporal punishment here on the scene.”

“If that’s all it’ll get them, maybe I should’ve run off with them.”

“Ha ha. I’m sure they have some kind of plan.”

Millia reached for some caffeinated gum of unknown ownership on the dashboard and tossed a piece into her mouth.

The bright sun poured onto the street three meters ahead of them and plenty of cars passed by, completely unaware of the attack Heivia and the others were planning. A convertible full of nearly-nude women passed by and a '''Pizza Deliveryman''' drove cheerfully by on a scooter.

To distract himself from his tension, Heivia spoke to his commanding officer.

“Come to think of it, the pizza shop in front of the station has started a new fair, haven’t they?”

“I’m surprised seeing that guy makes you hungry. He’s a spy who goes around delivering bombs in between actually delivering pizzas.”

“…”

“Unfortunately, we sometimes use his services, so we can’t just fill him with lead.”

Whatever happened, it seemed Lost Angels would always be Lost Angels.

Heivia was fed up with it all and Millia began giving instructions to the other assault team members located elsewhere.

“Kiwi Street, we’re prepared for the attack. Report on their progress.”

“Blue 03, the package has turned from Orange Street to Lemon Street.”

“Blue 18, an identical model vehicle spotted on its way to Lemon Street. I believe it’s meant to confuse us.”

“Blue 29, we’re in position. Waiting for permission to cut the package’s line.”

If they were even slightly afraid of an attack, the escort team would not take the long, long highways forming a cross as they ran east to west and south to north through the city. They would turn again and again through the net-like layout of roads running through Lost Angels in an attempt to reduce the risk of an ambush.

Could an accurate and certain attack be made in that situation?

The answer was yes.

“You have permission. Cut the package’s line.”

Millia Newburg’s tone was entirely casual.

Private matters were private matters and work was work. For that reason, this woman was willing to wield guns and set up bombs.



A high-pitched bell rang through the straight hallway.

Quenser and Putana ignored it as they grabbed the knob to a nearby room.

The knob turned without needing to check the electronic key.

Putana spoke after they slipped inside.

“Are you sure the fire won’t spread and cut off our escape?”

“I sabotaged the icemaker. If the fire gets too strong, it’ll melt the ice and get covered in tons of water. This isn’t going to turn into a huge fire and kill a bunch of civilians.”

Quenser looked around the room as he answered.

It seemed to be a single room because it had only one bed and the sofa by the side table was only large enough for one. There were no personal items scattered around. There was only a suitcase covered in stickers by the wall.

The suitcase was locked, but it was made of a thick synthetic fiber. He cut it open with the knife in his survival kit and checked on the contents.

“Clothes, a toothbrush, a guidebook, and…is this allergy medicine?”

“It doesn’t look like there’s a phone or computer. No camera or video games either.”

“I don’t see a journal or notebook either. It looks like they cleaned up everything before disappearing.”

Quenser and Putana exchanged a glance.

“Come to think of it, that boy said the others had happily gone to the Star.”

“Well, we need some information. If there was any digital data, it had to be something they went out of their way to hide. If we check on it, it might give us an important hint.”

“How do we do that?”

Quenser grabbed the TV remote and hit the “details” button instead of tuning to a specific station.

“They checked in three days before, asked to have their clothes washed, and were charged for an off-hours cleaning service. No room service or pay TV, huh? Ha ha. What a teacher’s pet.”

“How does this help?”

“Listen, they were here for three days. If they did have a computer, they would have used the internet. They would’ve gotten withdrawal symptoms otherwise.”

Quenser checked the phone on the side table.

“It’s an IP phone. Is that to cut down on the fees? If so, there has to be a router or modem… No, or does the phone double as one?”

“What are you going to do?”

“When working late at night, Heivia was downloading some adult video and the screen froze up. He froze up, too. He had me help him get it running again, the electronic simulation division got involved in exchange for the secret address Heivia had, and we got our hands on some pretty sophisticated file recovery software. I’m gonna run that on here.”

“But this is a phone with a router, right? I doubt it has a hard disk like a computer does.”

“Are you serious? Then how do you think the router’s settings file gets updated?”

He used a cable to connect his military handheld device to the IP phone and a ton of letters and numbers filled the small screen in no time.

“See? Traces of all the data they looked at is still in the temporary files! I’m never gonna trust public internet again!!”

“You learned all of this from Millia, didn’t you? Quit looking so proud of yourself. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Before long, the letters and numbers had been converted to human-readable data.

The child must have passed the time surfing the internet because several URLs were apparent. It was all on topics that did not paint humanity in a positive light: environmental pollution, the negatives of clean wars, financial problems, racial discrimination, the estimated remaining amounts and consumption rates of various resources, and the World Clock.

“It looks like they visited SNSs and forums too. Looks like I can’t do much about that without the IDs and passwords used.”

“You’re looking at all that, you peeping tom?”

“Just to be clear, if we don’t get any useful information here, the car carrying Mulqueen Sonora will be attacked and he has more than a 50/50 chance of dying.”

He could not access the sites the child had accessed, but he could browse the data that was uploaded to them. There was quite a lot of it and the file was in a special format.

“What…is this? This is pretty specialized software used when drawing blueprints.”

“Meaning?”

“Don’t you find it odd? This is used to the store the data for Object designs.”

There was so much data that it took some time for the small handheld device to open the file. They could only wait for the “loading” bar to slowly fill up.

Finally, the data was displayed.

It was indeed a diagram.

But…

“What…the hell?”

Quenser was dumbfounded.

This was not an Object.

It was shaped like the mantas he had seen on a documentary.

But if the scale given was accurate, it was over ten thousand meters long.



Heivia waited in a garbage truck at the entrance to the alley off of Kiwi Street and he heard sirens in the distance.

The package’s line had been cut.

What that code phrase meant was simple

Reports from the assault team continued.

“Blue 09, I’ve finished cutting the traffic light’s cable.”

“Blue 17, the water pipe has burst.”

“Blue 34, the fake traffic accident has been set up at the corner of Lemon Street and Grape Square. Abandoning our vehicles and retreating.”

Mulqueen Sonora’s escort team would be most afraid of coming to a stop. Even if the windows were bulletproof and the tires were stuffed with sponge, a door could be forced open if they were surrounded and violently attacked.

That was why Heivia and the rest of Azul Hive were causing trouble around the city.

That would create traffic jams on the roads they wanted.

To avoid a situation where they could not move forward or back and were pretty much asking to be attacked, the escort team would definitely avoid any traffic jams. If the routes through the network of roads were limited, the chance of making an attack would go up.

Their enemies were experts too, so they would know someone was setting them up.

[[Image:HO_v09_221.jpg|thumb]]

But they would have no choice but to go along with it.

“Blue 11, the package has moved from Lemon Street to Kiwi Street. Ten minutes until the expected point.”

“Understood, 11. Heivia, start the engine.”

“Blue 12, beginning action. Urging the package forward from behind.”

“Dammit. Are the deserters not going to pull off a miracle after all!?”

Heivia turned the key as he spat out those words.

Millia was looking a little worried, too.

“I’ll tell you when to go. You just have to push the accelerator down to the floor. We’ll slam into the first car from the side and bring the entire escort team to a stop. The rest of the assault team will attack the back car to keep them from backing up and we’ll help ourselves to the delicious toppings squished in the middle of the sandwich.”

It was a simple enough plan, but that was the ideal outcome.

A single mistake or unfortunate coincidence and it would all fall apart.

It may have changed form somewhat, but it was still a military action and that meant loss of life was possible.



Quenser and Putana looked at the unknown blueprints they had found in the hotel room. The mysterious machine was shaped like a ten thousand meter manta, which made it larger than an Object.

Notes were written at various points:

Anti-cosmic ray coating.

Ion engines.

Solar power panels.

Circulating environment.

2500 person capacity.

Low-temperature extreme environment preservation pods.

Seed and embryo freezing technology.

“The Star.”

Putana Highball seemed dumbfounded, but she somehow forced out a quiet voice.

“That boy mentioned that everyone went to the Star. If so, is this…?”

“An artificial planet.” Quenser gulped. “This is on an entirely different level from the rockets and shuttles of the past. This is a colossal spaceship with a proper living environment that’s meant to circle the sun like a needle on a record, just as Mars or Jupiter do. No, maybe the solar system is just for practice and they’re actually planning to join another star system. If they have cold sleep tech, they can ignore the time it takes to get there.”

Technically, a planet needed to rotate to have a stable orbit. With this, there would be a risk of slipping out of orbit, but it was possible it could make corrections with its various engines.

It mostly secured energy from sunlight, but it seemed it was also designed to terraform the satellites of other planets for various kinds of fuel and resources. There was even a report on growing potatoes and corn for biofuels. That was the basis of the Re Terra technology built into Putana’s Object.

“But is this even possible?” Putana looked dubious. “This giant ‘Star’ is ten kilometers long. Even if they did construct it, wouldn’t its own weight prevent it from escaping the earth’s gravity?”

“There’s a suggestion here about building it in satellite orbit, but I doubt that would work either. After all, it’s just too big. It would be torn up by all the debris up there before it was finished. Holes would be torn in the hull as soon as it was made and new holes would be made as soon as they patched up the old ones. Even if they did complete it, it would be too weak and it would break apart pretty quickly.”

“Then what is this?”

“I don’t know,” said Quenser. “But it looks the word Nataraja is definitely related to this artificial planet.”

The blueprints had completely unrelated thoughts written alongside the necessary information.

It was almost like someone had been doodling in the margin of their notebook while bored in class.

It said, the following:

''Humanity will destroy itself in another three hundred years. If they want to die, that’s fine by me, but I don’t want to be dragged down with them.

''It will all be over soon.

''Once the Nataraja is complete, we can overcome even the worst Kali Yuga. We were chosen, so we will escape this earth and all its problems.

“Teacher, this might be a form of eschatology just like Armageddon.”

“Eschatology?”

“Kali Yuga is the age when the teachings of the gods have been lost and it refers to modern times. When it ends, all of human civilization is destroyed and Nataraja…that is, Lord Shiva burns it all away to make a brand new world.”

It was not clear what all that referred to in reality, but looking at the plans for that giant “Star” was not going to help calm them down.

“Let’s go over what we know.” Quenser sat directly on the side table. “The missing geniuses are fed up with modern society and all of its problems. If possible, they want to leave the earth in search of a new paradise.”

“And the result is this Star?”

“They used their fields of research to help construct this giant artificial planet. They may have received passports to the new world in return. The cable car incident was not talent trafficking. It wasn’t a kidnapping. It was an act for the children to disappear.”

“It’s true clever weapons developers wouldn’t be allowed to leave or defect so easily.”

“And based on what I’ve heard from Frolaytia and Millia, these geniuses are turning up missing in safe countries all over the world, so it isn’t just the cable car incident. The plans for the artificial planet said it can hold 2500 people. In the worst case, they might have that many geniuses working with them.”

“In other words, this problem goes beyond Lost Angels.”

“They might have built a secret network spanning all four world powers. And it would have to slip past the surveillance to connect the geniuses surrounded by the military and research facilities.”

This was a plan to put a great number of geniuses in cold sleep and send them outside the solar system.

But could the artificial planet realistically escape earth’s gravity after growing so large?

And how was this related to the Oriental Magic approaching the Indian Ocean?

At that moment, the fire alarm suddenly stopped ringing.

Putana looked up in surprise and glared at the door.

“I sense eight gazes filled with killer intent… They’re coming this way!”

“Is this as far as we get!?”

Quenser yanked out the handheld device’s cable.

He continued operating the device while looking at the small screen, so Putana spoke up in annoyance.

“What are you doing!?”

“A lot of the data couldn’t be converted to text, so I’m having the program decrypt the rest. How much it can do with one click is up to the electronic simulation department’s secret weapon, though!”

After finishing the necessary process, he shoved the device in his pocket and asked a question of his own.

“Putana, you have a gun, right? Head to the emergency staircase. They should have an emergency escape tube there. Use that.”

“What about you?”

“I’d like to fight too, but a certain someone kept me from making my fuses. Can you take responsibility for that?”

She clicked her tongue and made her way to the room’s door.

She fired a few times before turning the knob and kicked the hole-filled door into the hallway.

She ignored the collapsed thug spraying blood everywhere with a submachinegun in his arms and she fired further down the hallway.

“Let’s go, teacher!”

“We can’t use the elevator. Get to the emergency stairs!”

The Hotel Grand Jackpot was Mustard Cowboy’s (and therefore the Capitalist Corporations’) home. They would keep sending in reinforcements during a long, drawn-out battle, so they would eventually overrun Putana with pure numbers.

That was why she sprayed bullets to make them flinch back rather than trying to kill them all.

The two of them ran down the hallway while the enemy could not move.

The emergency staircase was attached to the outside of the building. It looked bad and there was a risk of drunks jumping off of it, but if the emergency stairs were inside the building, they would become a giant chimney during a fire and there was a danger of everyone using them dying of carbon monoxide poisoning. They were on the outside to prevent that.

Quenser jumped down to the landing and removed the latch on a metal box.

He pulled out a seventy centimeter wide tube made of synthetic fibers. He attached the end to the stairway railing and threw the rest of it over the edge.

“Putana, hurry up!”

“We’ll stand out too much if we go down in that!! They’ll be waiting for us at the bottom and it will take over three minutes until we reach the ground, so if they unhook the top partway through, we’ll be in a freefall!!”

“That doesn’t matter! Hurry over here!!”



An unpleasant sweat was collecting on Heivia’s hands as he held the garbage truck’s steering wheel.

Millia must have been used to this sort of situation because she looked nervous but not worried.

The rest of the assault team was giving reports over the radio.

“Blue 12, the package is still on its way down Kiwi Street. There are no unrelated cars in between us anymore.”

“Blue 20, I will keep any unrelated cars from getting in.”

“Blue 15, 12 was hit. Continuing action.”

“Blue 07, finished picking up 12. Withdrawing. Good luck.”

“Here they come,” said Millia. “At worst, you can miss the first car. Just make sure you hit the escort team and stop them in the middle of the road. That will leave the package at a standstill.”

“…”

“Calm down, boy. Don’t be so afraid of messing up that you make yourself mess up.”

“If I mess up here, a civilian will die! And a ten-year-old kid at that! I’m confident I can pull this off, but a human life is resting on my shoulders!! Of course I’m going to be breathing a little heavily!!”

“If you don’t like worrying, then try not to think about anything that isn’t absolutely necessary. Tuning your brain is a standard technique for a soldier.”

The time approached.

Heivia clenched his teeth and squeezed his hands around the steering wheel.



They looked like thugs in flashy suits, but they were actually spies from the Capitalist Corporations. They had gathered on the landing of the hotel’s emergency staircase.

They heard scraping cloth coming from the opening to the emergency escape tube.

Someone was sliding down it.

One of the men removed the safety device on the railing and threw it out into the air.

As there was a weight partway down, the synthetic fabric fell straight down to the asphalt without the wind carrying it.

A soft thud rang out and they contacted the team on the surface via radio.

“We’ve eliminated the intruder. Just to be sure, check the body on the surface.”



“Blue 15, beginning countdown at 100.”

“Heivia, the package is less than five kilometers away. They’re closing in at twenty-five meters a second. Are you ready!?”

“Dammit!! I’ll do it! I just have to do it, right!?”



Quenser and Putana were hiding in a room one floor down whose lock had also been released.

“Won’t they figure out pretty quickly you only dropped a fire extinguisher down?”

“It doesn’t matter if they figure out the trick. We just have to make sure we’re long gone by then.”

They had put on the clothes they found in the closet and generally changed their hairstyles in front of the mirror. Quenser was wearing a white suit and Putana was wearing a dress with a miniskirt so short her butt was just about visible. The poor taste made it obvious what kind of guests had been staying in this room.

They slowly left the room.

The elevators had recovered, so they boarded one and made their way to the first floor.

The glass-covered elevator shaft gave them a view of some thugs riding another elevator straight up, but it was too late.

“Okay, we need to report this. We’ll spoil the others’ fun with our information on the artificial planet.”

“…”

Putana’s eyes sharpened. She may have been planning to put a bullet in Quenser’s forehead as soon as she was certain Mulqueen Sonora was safe.

However…

“Millia? Millia! What’s going on!?”

“Can you not get through?”

“It’s not just that the radio isn’t reaching. There’s more to this.”

The quick elevator reached the first floor entrance.

As some thugs rushed to the landing site of the outdoor emergency escape tube, Quenser and Putana hurried out the main entrance. They could tell Mustard Cowboy was as confused as they were. The men were looking down at their cellphones and radios and repeatedly messing with the settings.

Whether he had been successful or not, the bearded former leader they had seen before was walking on the road out front.

“See? I told you the printing plates for the money were in that fortress of a casino! Of course, that fire alarm did kind of save our asses!”

“That’s our boss. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

“I’ve got that nun to take care of, so let’s scram.”

Right in front of Quenser and Putana’s eyes, they hopped into the sky blue convertible parked on the curb and started the engine.

“That’s our car!”

“Wait, teacher. We don’t want a firefight here.”

They checked their surroundings while leaving the hotel on foot and spotted a '''Hot Dog Stand''' van parked on the curb. It must have been overhauled in a hurry recently because the frame was clearly quite old and falling apart. The man in the driver’s seat was raising his middle finger toward the blue sky.

(Huh? Isn’t that the guy who steals device data over Wi-Fi?)

Quenser checked where the man was looking.

“There we go.”

“?”

“There’s a UAV flying through the northern sky. That thing is jamming us!”

“But that’s a high-grade RC. If it was using an ECM, wouldn’t it lose control, too?”

“Not if it’s using lasers to communicate or if it’s autonomously controlled by a program. Also, that attack in the hotel was strange. Someone may have sent an email to the guards to get it started.”

“Someone related to the Star?”

“I can’t think of anyone else who would be worried about information on the Nataraja getting out.”

Regardless, if they did not get the information to Millia Newburg, the others would continue as planned and attack Mulqueen Sonora. No matter how perfectly they prepared, they could not guarantee the safety of that mission.

“It isn’t armed, so this is pure electronic warfare. …Putana, can you shoot it down?”

“Don’t joke. This is a 9mm automatic.”

“Then we’ll have to find some other way.”

Quenser looked around and ran out into the road.

The sound of screeching brakes filled the sunny city.

“Putana, the driver’s seat!!”

She shoved her gun forward as told. A man in his early twenties was visible on the other side of the windshield. He went pale, let go of the steering wheel, and raised his hands. Luckily, he was not the type to take a gamble on accelerating to knock them out of the way.

Quenser forced open the driver’s side door and grabbed the young man’s collar.

“Sorry, but you’ll be helping us.”

“W-with what?”

“I know this '''Ice Cream Truck''' sends out a pirate broadcast.”

Quenser looked to the windowless metal box on the back of the truck.

The young man’s face was soaked with sweat.

“Ha…ha ha. What on earth are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb. You were spreading half-truths during that cable car incident, so how about I throw you out in front of the Baby Magnum? If you’re really an innocent civilian, the Princess won’t crush your truck. But if you’re guilty and an expert soldier, she won’t see any reason not to kill you as an enemy combatant.”

“Heh…eh heh…eh heh heh. Wh-what would you like?”

“There are two ways of breaking through radio jamming: choosing a bandwidth not blocked or breaking through with an even more powerful signal. You can handle that, can’t you?”



Even back in the alley, they could faintly hear the target’s engines. The assault team was keeping them moving from behind, so their tires were screeching in their hurry.

Heivia would slam his garbage truck in at a right angle to cut them off.

That would end it.

If successful, they would get valuable information. If they failed, they would turn an innocent ten-year-old boy to mincemeat.

Was this really worth the risk?

Was this information worth betting a human life like a chip on the poker table?

“…”

Heivia slowly breathed in and then exhaled.

“10, 9, 8…”

The countdown continued.

It felt like grains of sand falling down the disturbing hourglass that measured someone’s remaining life.

His eyes had fallen to the steering wheel, so he looked back up. He stared at Kiwi Street up ahead.

His left foot held the clutch halfway down, he removed his right foot from the brake pedal, and the sole of that foot stroked the surface of the gas pedal.

He prepared to slam that foot down.

But just before he did…

“Kssshhh!! This is Blue -1! We have acquired the information from the Hotel Grand Jackpot! I repeat, we have acquired the information from the Hotel Grand Jackpot! Ksshh. You’ll probably only get this same information if you attack the escort team!! I recommend a change of plans!! Ksshh!!”

A strange wrinkle came over Heivia’s brow.

(That idiot has to contact us now of all times!?)

He was not sure what to do. Their cooperation had been thrown off and that kind of minor thing could lead to accidentally killing Mulqueen Sonora.

He frantically glanced over at Millia, but she remained silent.

The engine sounds of the escort team had almost arrived.

“5, 4, 3…”

The countdown continued.

Heivia clicked his tongue and stepped on the gas pedal. The garbage truck finally began to move. If he lifted his left foot, the clutch would fully connect and the truck would burst forward into Kiwi Street. It would crash into the lead car from the side and the bulletproof cars carrying the ten-year-old child would crash into it from behind one after another.

“…2, 1…”

He heard a dull sound as Millia Newburg bit her lip and shouted into the radio.

“Abort mission!!”

Heivia and the others watched the group of black cars drive past.

Heivia pressed down the clutch at the very last second. The truck engine roared fruitlessly and it moved no further forward.

In that instant, his eyes briefly met with those of the boy innocently pressing his hands against the window to peer out at the scenery.

Before they could begin to make an emotional connection, it all vanished into the flowing scenery.

Still, guilt very nearly broke the dams holding back Heivia’s tears.

Finally, the rest of the assault team contacted them.

“Blue 15, change of orders confirmed. Breaking away from behind the escort team.”

“Blue 07, awaiting permission to support 15.”

“Blue 15, this is only my personal opinion, but this is a weight off my shoulders. Thank you.”

Millia switched off the radio without saying anything back.

She leaned forward, scraped her forehead on the dashboard, and slowly sighed.

She seemed stunned at her own actions and spoke in a self-deprecating tone.

“It is for me, too.”