Editing HEAVY OBJECT:Volume9 Chapter 1 (section)

===Part 5===

It was 8 PM.

Even at night, Lost Angels was not the least bit chilly and the filthy motel room was wrapped in an odd heat. It was enough to suspect the musty air conditioner and its old coolant had finally kicked the bucket.

“Let’s go back over the necessary conditions.”

Millia Newburg pulled on the central bridge-like string on her bikini top as she started talking.

“Our target is the Collective Farming, a Second Generation Object from the Faith Organization. And instead of destroying it, we’re going to steal it unharmed to get our hands on its tech.”

“Um,” said Quenser as he raised a hand. “I know I keep saying this, but that really was just a theory. Are you sure we have everything needed to pull it off?”

“Don’t worry. The large facility for constructing and maintaining Objects is the heart of Lost Angels. It’s located on the southern cape and it’s a no-entry zone protected by a double fence called the Great Fence and by machinegun-equipped guard towers. …Just as you read in the report. This is a city of two million, but all of the witness’s eyes are turned in the same direction: southward. This should all go off without a hitch.”

“The local residents…are foreign spies I guess. But ignoring them, what about the guards and surveillance cameras at the Faith Organization base? For that matter, what about UAVs and military satellites?”

“Nothing to worry about there,” said Heivia. “Their Pilot Elite, Putana Highball, has extreme scopophobia, so she can immediately sense whenever someone’s eyes or a camera are looking at her. That may sound like it makes her invincible, but it has a huge downside. When tuning up her mental side, she supposedly meditates inside her Object, remember? They have to move all of the guards and surveillance away during that time. Just by intercepting her meditation schedule, we have a time when everyone moves away from the thing.”

“But the Object’s own high-sensitivity sensors take over, right? If we get close, we’ll still be blown away by the Collective Farming.”

“That’s what Mr. Mayonnaise was for,” said Millia Newburg as she tugged down on her bikini’s string. “He’s the manager of the state-run factory, so we can use his biometric data to sneak into the Faith Organization’s system. Since the maintenance port is open right now, we can overwrite the image displayed in the Collective Farming’s cockpit. It doesn’t matter if the sensors notice us as long as the information doesn’t reach the Pilot Elite.”

“To look at it another way, we don’t get a second chance if we let this one go. The Pilot Elite’s meditation spans several days, so if we tried to wait until the next time, the Collective Farming’s maintenance would end and it would head out to another battlefield. This is our only chance.”

“How’s the ocean? Oh, and what about the lighthouse?”

Quenser persistently asked about everything and Millia diligently answered all of his questions.

She was likely doing so out of respect for the one who had thought up the plan while also making sure there were no discrepancies between their actual plans and the one in his head.

“About three kilometers south of the southern cape is a small island with nothing but a lighthouse on it. It was easy to take over. The soldiers were confused why they got a bonus for attacking something so insignificant, though.”

“How’s the weather? Is there actually going to be fog?”

“You’ll see when you step outside. Lost Angels is covered in a thick fog almost every night. It’s only a weather issue, but the place seems to transform into a city of perverts and eccentrics once the sun sets. When you spend too long faking your identity in enemy territory, even a spy can get fed up with the world. I still don’t see why that makes you head out into the night wearing nothing but a trench coat, though.”

“What about the model?”

Heivia cut in to field that question.

“You can thank the recent craze of 3D printers for that one.”

“The blackout?”

“There are a few ways to pull it off, but they won’t suspect any of them. The transformer equipment in the mountains is so run down that the power goes out all the time on a really hot day.”

“So that just leaves…the boat, the light source, and the lens.”

“You already know we have all that. We put our own lives on the line for that last one.”

Quenser fell silent and thought back over the idea he had put together.

Was anything missing?

Could they go ahead with what they had?

He thought and reached his conclusion.

“I can’t believe this. I’ve lost any reason to oppose this.”

“Then I guess your theory is about to enter reality.”

Millia Newburg smiled and threw her fist into the palm of her open hand.

“As a kid, I loved munching on popcorn as I watched spy movies. Now I kind of wish I’d gotten a tuxedo.”