novelOverture >> Attack on the Turkana District Space Elevator - Gr. Base (2)
| ← Ch.162 | Ch.164 → |
Their safety was not assured unless they took matters into their own hands.
(But what exactly are we supposed to do?)
Myonri was at a loss when she heard a voice from within the tank.
"Myonri, they aren't using radar or IR. I can only guess, but they're probably targeting us by directly looking down at us with lenses in the sky."
"..."
"That's why we aren't receiving any alerts in advance. We're already done for once the night sky lights up. Their warheads aren't using tricky chemistry or nuclear physics. They can rival a small nuke just by dropping garbage on us, so they won't feel any need to hold back."
They could do the same thing anywhere in the world, battlefield country or safe country, without worrying about air superiority or an invasion route. And they could drop as much as they wanted. This could be used for more than just general aerial bombings. If they were hooked up to a city's security cameras, they could track an individual. And once they had a lock, that person could not escape no matter how many times they fled all the way around the globe.
Now was no time to worry about appearances.
When Myonri took a look out from the tank again, she saw that the #4 parabolic antenna power transmission station they were meant to take over had been torn to shreds. That station was necessary to send up the elevator car and there would have been staff still working inside, not to mention the many guerilla soldiers defending the perimeter.
But the enemy had shown no mercy.
The Capitalist Corporations determined people's value based on the size of their savings and salary, but this still felt excessively callous. They had destroyed their assets rather than let them fall into enemy hands. Whether it was a cornerstone of the jamming or whatever else, the number suggested there were other parabolic antenna power transmission stations. Hence the arrogance of their decision.
Even if someone fought for everyone's sake and achieved record-breaking results, they would still be thrown out the instant that was more convenient.
(Isn't there something?)
Myonri thought to herself almost as if praying.
(Isn't there something we can do? Something that will turn the tide here!?)
Part 11
The M became a V.
The Princess had detected a change in the battlefield's momentum, so her slender legs had stretched upwards in alarm. However...
"Ow!? Leg cramp!!"
Thanks to that, she was slow to provide assistance.
A monotone beeping filled the sealed cockpit.
The change had begun with a transmission. She had detected a coded transmission using ultrasound that was not influenced by the jamming. It came from the maintenance base zone far behind her.
"Princess!!"
"I-I am only accepting good news right now."
"Then you might as well destroy all of your communication equipment. I don't want to tell you this anymore than you want to hear it."
The conversation with Frolaytia continued a while longer.
Something had changed.
But not all changes were for the better. And it was no use complaining after the fact.
"I can't believe this."
The Princess tearfully placed her hand on her right big toe and pulled it toward her while using just her other hand to accurately operate the Baby Magnum's anti-air weaponry.
"This really is mind-numbingly boring, " she said."Aren't there any more exciting battles we could be fighting?"
"Getting addicted to war is a good way to end the world, you know?"
Part 12
Myonri heard more and more explosions, but she could no longer tell if those meant she had been saved or abandoned to die.
Everything falling from the heavens rivaled a nuclear warhead and the Object intercepted them with extreme low-stability plasma cannons. It was the most apocalyptic fireworks show ever.
A staticky voice managed to break through the powerful wide-range jamming to reach Myonri's ears.
"I'm so bored."
It was the Princess.
Her communications equipment was on the level of an entire radar station, so she was using that to force her way through the jamming.
And the first words out of her mouth were not what Myonri wanted to hear.
They might as well have been a death sentence.
"Wait, what's this? Is she losing interest in the battle? Oh, no! I'll play a word game with you, read you a book, or whatever it takes! Just don't get bored! Please don't go home and leave us here!!"
Myonri paled and shouted in desperation, but there was no response.
The jamming must have prevented the Object from receiving anything from the tank. She simply heard the Princess's flat voice accompanied by intense static.
"I mean, that's just bullying the weak locals here. If the Legitimacy Kingdom decides this is a good way to use Objects, they'll never be able to stop. This war is not going to end well at this rate."
"?"
"Check through the peephole."
Myonri grabbed the grip of the heavy machinegun attached in front of the hatch. She was interested in its multipurpose scope. She looked through that to see several lines of light in the night sky that were not visible with the naked eye. They were either infrared or ultraviolet. They flashed red, red, blue to mean "major damage".
Other invisible lines of light rose from a different angle. Those came from the maintenance base zone.
They flashed blue, red, blue. Then red, red, red.
The two signals meant "retaliation operation, get ready."
The atmosphere in Myonri's tank grew heavier. This was different than the fear of being killed.
And the Princess again spoke over the radio with a sigh in her voice.
"This really is boring. Maybe I should run away to a tropical island."
Part 13
Quenser held the assault rifle he had borrowed from unconscious Heivia.
He needed the multipurpose scope.
He had thought he saw something flashing in the sky. Infrared and ultraviolet were not normally visible, but the diffusion and diffraction caused by atmospheric conditions and sand in the air could alter the wavelength. The lines in the night sky could be understood by anyone with the appropriate equipment and knowledge of the code.
"Wait, wait, wait! Why are bigshots in the base making that decision for us!?"
"Because the elevator attacked you."
Quenser saw a small light in the darkness. The guerilla doctor named Braskine had placed a frying pan on top of a portable camping stove.
His response was made with a hateful tone even though that attack should have been exactly what his side needed.
"The elevator's artificial meteor shower hits everything from the front line to the base in the rear. Those officers with chests full of medals assume they'll be safe as long as they send their troops out as cannon fodder, so it was probably a surprise when they found they were in danger too."
"You mean our busty commander...I mean, uh, Frolaytia feels that way too!?"
"Fro-? I don't know how your chain of command works, but that artificial meteor shower can be sent anywhere in the world. Your safe countries and home country are no exception. It's possible this didn't come from the local commander in charge of your maintenance base. And if it was their higher ups who are panicking, then they would be powerless to stop it."
The skinny boy blinked before asking another question.
"Um, what does that mean for us?"
"Exactly what you think it does, unfortunately."
"What happened to them putting together a rescue mission for us!? Have they completely forgotten about us!? We'll be slaughtered in their big aerial bombing mission along with all of you!! Dammit, if they're gonna pretend I don't exist, then I might as well go peep on the women's bath!!"
It looked like he would have to figure something out on his own.
If the rules of the battalion would not protect him, then he had no reason to obey those rules. He plopped his butt down on the ground to eat some delicious food in violation of military regulations. If the man was going to poison him, he would have injected him with something while he was unconscious.
Also...
"Wait, you're making pizza toast?"
"Yup. I can't carry around everything needed to cook a whole pizza, but the toppings are a different story. Although there's a trick to cooking even this with just a frying pan."
"No, that's not my point. I thought African food was more...well, not this."
"You don't even know what African food is, do you?" Braskine breathed an exasperated sigh."I learned how to cook this kind of stuff when I was a poor college student in Europe. My roommate Louisiana loved this kind of junk food."
"So like cooking pasta in salty water and only adding a bit of olive oil for flavor?"
"You think I had anything as fancy as that, boy? You aren't a true poor college student until you're figuring out what you can do with a cabbage core."
The two of them shared a laugh.
They were in completely different positions and there might be no room for compromise between them, but they had both lived as students. That gave them something in common.
"What kind of toppings do you like?" asked Braskine while lightly shaking the hot frying pan."We need to heat those up in a smaller pan before toasting the bread."
"Cheese goes without saying, I assume? As long as the cheese isn't too strong, then I like some basil and sliced olives. Oh, and some kind of seafood if you have it."
"Hm, are you from a coastal area?" inquired the young doctor while opening a can of shellfish.
While gathering information even more crudely than with a blood type horoscope, Braskine added some cheese and tomato puree to his pizza toast and then placed some cooked chicken on top of that. It was all very formal and by-the-book. He was not the type to ever take a step beyond the basics.
"Has anyone ever told you you're a boring guy? Girls in particular?"
"All the time. But I can't help it - I'm just an ordinary guy. I just can't do pizza toast the way Louisiana did. She would pile on thinly-sliced melon and fries."
"Melon?"
"It's not even about whether it would be good or not - you never would have even thought of it, right? She claimed to like the mix of sweet and salty, but that's what a true genius is like. You might want to copy them, but they're too far out of reach."
Quenser drank some of the coffee he was given and wrinkled his brow at how strong and astringent it was. It was probably meant to wake you up more than taste or smell nice.
"My time at school in Berlin was more fun than any other time in my life, " said Braskine while watching the portable stove.
"Couldn't you have stayed in Europe? I mean, a medical license is a sign of being in the privileged class. I'm jealous."
"There's more to life than fun." The words were soft and almost seemed to spill from his mouth."You have to face reality. Besides, I decided to become a doctor so I could support the people who were dying because they could not receive the medical exams and treatments most people take for granted. I couldn't protect my home if I remained in a world that already had everything it needed."
Quenser fell silent for a bit before asking a question.
"Is it really that bad here?"
"When a child has to prepare to die after a simple mosquito bite. That's how fragile lives are here. And it wouldn't be that way if we only had vaccines that coast 5 dollars each."
"..."
"Yes, only 5 dollars. But we can't get them. Being declared a nature reserve actually worked against us because we can't capture and sell the rare plants and animals here. I thought maybe we could dig out and sell some stones or sand if we only needed 5 dollars, but no. The small bits of quartz or iron sand mixed in makes them useless trash. Not something anyone's going to bother sending a truck all the way out here to buy. The fuel costs would leave them in the red."
He could not protect his home if he remained in a world that already had everything it needed.
Quenser was starting to see what the man meant.
The ordinary ways of doing things did not always protect people's lives.
"That's why we were all so thankful for that elevator. It dried up the ground and we couldn't preserve our traditional way of life, but it ended an era where you had no recourse while your precious child was dying."
Braskine smiled in a self-deprecating way.
He wanted to protect his home.
He had gone as far as earning a medical license, but he still found himself unable to save people without sufficient medical supplies. Ironically, it was Mother Lady towering up from the desert that had provided him with that.
It had saved their lives.
Their own and those of the people they cared for even more.
That was why the local people continued to fight even if it meant becoming guerillas. Even though they knew deep down it was wrong and even though they had an inkling that more people would die of this war than of disease.
If they lost, they would lose the benefits of the space elevator.
They had not wanted to return to an age when they were forced to accept so much as unavoidable.
"Louisiana, the college roommate I mentioned, apparently wanted to protect the entire world. The thing about ordinary people is that we restrict our own dreams and stuff them into a smaller box. She always found it puzzling why I was so delighted while restricting my own possibilities like that. And she was right. I was so busy polishing up a comfortable fish tank for myself that I never lived up to my potential. I couldn't head out into the vast ocean to change the world like her."
The pizza toast was like a feast compared to the soap-like rations.
And once Quenser's stomach was full to give him some energy, he could no longer distract himself that way. The immediate problem weighed on him all the more.
At this rate, the Legitimacy Kingdom was going to begin a retaliation operation.
Quenser and Heivia had been forgotten thanks to the powerful jamming, so they would be blown away along with the enemy. And Braskine of course did not want the local people to be attacked.
No amount of prayer would cause a hero or powerful warrior to appear.
So they would have to solve this themselves.
However, Quenser Barbotage could not drive and Heivia still showed no sign of coming to.
Braskine seemed to want the stranded soldiers to leave before they brought disaster, but their plan for returning to base had been ruined by the Capitalist Corporations elevator. The Legitimacy Kingdom was so intent on retaliating they had completely forgotten about the cheap soldiers they had sent out there. Nothing about this was likely to change any time soon.
As things were, there would be a full-on clash between the Capitalist Corporations artificial meteor shower and the Legitimacy Kingdom's ground-based retaliation. Neither side was giving any thought to the guerillas who were not part of the four world powers. If anything, the Legitimacy Kingdom might actively target the guerillas in order to add more to their kill count and preserve their honor.
Braskine used a special detergent to wash his cooking utensils with as little water as possible and he grimaced after Quenser shared what he knew.
"I need a vehicle, " concluded the student."And I need your help."
"Dammit, then you'd better give something in return. If I help you, then you're fighting to protect my people!"
Quenser himself did not want the Princess to dirty her hands with unnecessary retaliation. He doubted attacking the local guerillas would cause any trouble at all for the Capitalist Corporations operators. And besides the armed guerillas, there would also be plenty of noncombatant residents in their villages. What if the Object was sent in to attack there? That kind of needless killing would not even be war - only a massacre.
So Quenser calmly nodded.
"We're after the Capitalist Corporations space elevator, so we're not interested in who lives in the area. So as long as you help us destroy that thing."
"So what's your plan!?"
"We find a way to take control of the elevator before the retaliation can begin. Or we at least bring back a way to do so as a souvenir. Then the Legitimacy Kingdom will lose its excuse to slaughter the guerillas. This battle is over the space elevator, so the guerillas are only a distraction."
"That's not a plan!!"
They argued back and forth as they walked to the beat-up truck.
The young doctor got in the driver's seat and Quenser in the passenger seat. Unconscious Heivia, the buggy, and the camping supplies were loaded into the enclosed back.
They drove out into the desert night, but it was unexpectedly warm.
And not just because they were so close to the equator.
"It's that elevator. It uses the chill of the night to cool the coolant once it's taken in so much frictional heat. I'm sure you could calculate out the amount of energy from the length of the wires, but you only need to know it's a lot."
"I assumed they were cooling it with a nuclear reactor."
"They use thermal power down below the parabolic antenna bases. Were you overwhelmed by the laser beams and coilguns? If you link together enough power generation facilities to supply an entire state's worth of electricity, you can do most anything even with older tech."
"Can you draw me out a map of those underground waterways?"
"What good is that? We never would have had it so hard if we could get water that easily."
"Stick a thick metal sheet deep in the earth and you can block off those waterways. Then the elevator loses its supply of coolant."
"Finally, an actual plan, " laughed Braskine.
He kept one hand on the wheel and used the other to draw something out in the notebook he had open on his lap. Then he tossed the notebook to Quenser.
With that souvenir, they might be able to stop the meaningless retaliation operation. But they did not drive the truck straight back to the Legitimacy Kingdom maintenance base zone.
They kept the headlights off and Quenser kept an eye out ahead with night-vision goggles while they repeatedly drove around certain obstacles. The goggles were from the Capitalist Corporations. They were one of the kind gifts given to the guerillas. The rich had essentially told the locals to put those on so they could look stylish when they died.
"Can't you wear these while you drive?"
"Are you sure you want that? Those old-style goggles blur your vision a lot when you turn your head too quickly."
It was obvious what they were using the goggles to avoid.
"Another one, " said Quenser in disgust."There's a Lunchbox 500m ahead. Those things have finally gotten tired and decided to take a break."
"Wouldn't they normally be even more fired up and ready to go after a successful counterattack?"
"The operators probably think moving them will get them caught in the artificial meteor shower."
"I believe those things' batteries can last a week in standby mode."
They made sure to steer clear of every single one they saw.
Since they had to repeatedly take detours, it felt a lot like they were driving around in circles. Especially since the continuing jamming from the elevator's military station made the map on Quenser's mobile device entirely useless.
"There's no time to spare. Yes, I expect the retaliation will begin within 12 hours from now."
"How do you know?"
"It's the Legitimacy Kingdom way. You can't help being take off guard at times. We aren't Faith Organization fortunetellers, so there's only so much we can predict in advance. So the royals and nobles prefer to defend their honor through appropriate retaliation. But if enough time passes after an attack, you're labeled as a fool who couldn't do anything to get back at your attacker. And 12 hours from now is about the limit on that. You can't let a full 24 hours pass. You need to use that time to make full use of a huge-ass simulator and calculate out how much damage you need to do in retaliation for the damage you received."
"..."
"The going rate is killing ten times as many people as you had killed, I think. Sometimes the calculation comes out closer to nine times or eleven times, though." Quenser clicked his tongue."We really can't get back without doing something about those unmanned weapons. Could we go to the guerilla HQ and have them open a path for us? They're on the verge of having their village razed after all."
"We don't control those things from our village. They're directly controlled by Federation of Elevator Industries operators in Mother Lady's ground base. We don't have that kind of technical skill."
Braskine made it sound like they were being lent equipment but not being trained in how to use it.
The Capitalist Corporations saw them as replaceable and disposable, so they were not going to increase the cost of each one by pouring money into training them. That would only lose the Capitalist Corporations money.
They slid the truck down into a V-shaped dip in the ground to avoid being seen by the unmanned ground vehicles. It was probably the remnants of a now-dried river. They saw the occasional remains of a wooden pier or small boats left behind there.
"We have 12 hours until the 'swift retaliation' begins. I expect they'll repeat the simulation as many times as they can before the limit to make sure they can put together a mission that causes exactly the damage their calculations say they need."
"Is there any chance they'll remember you're out here while they do that?"
"If they did remember, it would affect their timetable, so anyone who does will do everything they can to forget again. If they 'unknowingly' kill us in friendly fire, no one can be charged with a crime."
The potatoes' lives were just not that important.
Quenser sighed while leaning back in the stopped truck's passenger seat.
"That means tomorrow at noon is the limit. Heivia and I need to return to the maintenance base zone before then so we can force them to redo the simulation based on a new calculation sheet. And if we don't give them the information needed to block up the underground waterways used to cool the elevator, they really will begin their misguided retaliation against the guerillas. Since that means you, I know you don't want that."
Needless to say, the Legitimacy Kingdom's enemy was the Capitalist Corporations, not the local guerillas.
But with only the immediate records available, they would satisfy themselves by attacking the guerrillas. Even though the Lunchboxes were actually being controlled by the operators in the air-conditioned elevator ground base.
"You world powers seem to think you can just dig into the ground around here and find an unlimited supply of guerillas, but the people dying are the kids raised in my village. No, not just my village. They come from all the villages and towns around the elevator. All of them had their own hopes and dreams and the idea was for them to realize those dreams by using the money from the elevator to get an education in Asia or Europe. You can't just plant some seeds in a field to grow more of them. I want to avoid any more sacrifices here."
Truth be told, Quenser was not 100% in agreement with Braskine. No matter what the man said, Quenser was on the side trying to destroy the Mother Lady space elevator. He felt it was too naïve to think he could just grab that outstretched hand and find a solution to the entire mess without going to any real effort.
Children had to be prepared for death after a simple mosquito bite.
The vaccine to prevent it cost only 5 dollars.
It was a moving story, but the Capitalist Corporations had not been offering help out of the goodness of their hearts. Given their intelligence-gathering capabilities, they must have known about the disastrous situation in this region long ago. They had ignored it for so long and only now approached with a smile on their faces so they could use it as a bargaining chip to get the land they needed.
Quenser was a commoner, so he would normally live his life having the nobles and royals extracting everything from him they could get.
But he also knew how risky it was to fight back against that. That was why he had come all the way to the battlefield to learn about Object design. He had made a powerful enemies and barely dodged death more than a few times to have his way.
You were free to break free of society's role for you if you wanted.
But once you did, you were choosing to face the unnecessary dangers placed upon any who dared defy society's rules.
Opportunities always came with risk.
Generally, the ones who won were those who made the rules and made sure they were paid first.
If you did not understand that and were not prepared to use it to your advantage, this is what happened. You would fail to see past the tempting promises. Just like someone who took out a generous student loan without realizing that was actually a debt system set up by the state.
What should they have sold instead? Could they have found a way to attract tourists? Quenser did not know the right answer here.
Regardless, he would have to rework his plan.
He started by double checking an important fact.
"Since those unmanned weapons aren't run by the guerilla villages, there won't be any hard feelings if we destroy them, right?"
"Right. But can you destroy them? Those Lunchboxes are the Capitalist Corporations' latest model and they've repelled soldiers with advanced equipment a few times already. Not to protect our lives, of course."
The conditions for that would depend on the time and situation.
For now, Quenser hopped out of the truck's passenger seat, circled behind it, and opened the boxy enclosed back.
"Heivia. Hey, Heivia."
"Ugh...where am I? Panty heaven???"
"I'm not expecting anything from you, so just hand over your water and rations. You can keep dreaming in here. Food is for people who actually work."
Once he realized he would be slowly killed if he did not help out, Heivia rapidly woke back up. The mindset of cruel Frolaytia's 37th had reached even the lowest levels.
As a doctor, Braskine was particular about a healthy diet.
He could not believe his eyes when he saw Quenser.
"What's this? You only just ate some pizza toast. Maybe you're in a growth spurt, but it's best to avoid forming bad lifestyle habits."
"Dammit, Quenser!! You were having the time of your life while I was out, weren't you!?"
"I don't know what he's talking about. You really shouldn't trust everything these guerillas say."
They munched on the soap-like flavorless rations while holding a strategy meeting.
"The retaliation operation begins tomorrow afternoon, right? Then why not wait until then?" That was newly-awakened Heivia's opinion."It'll be a ground operation primarily carried out by the mechanized unit, so we can find our way to an allied tank or armored truck and have them pick us up. I don't give a crap what happens to the guerillas."
That was an impeccably logical plan, but the idiot had left all of his kindness behind somewhere.
That was when Braskine pulled out a weapon even more frightening than a Gatling gun. It was a bottle rocket with a whistle attached. The doctor who saw all lives as equally important spoke with a blank expression.
"This is used to signal an enemy's approach. People are sensitive to unusual sounds, so the villagers will rush in from all over even in the middle of a sandstorm. Whatever your reasons might have been, you're the ones that killed these people's sons and daughters. But if you think you can handle those grieving parents, then be my guest."
"..."
"There was nothing a doctor could do. In the 9 months since the Elevator's testing period began, I've attended so many funerals. I even helped dig their graves, but a lot of the bodies couldn't be retrieved. Now, let's talk about emotions. Do you think these people will care at all who started it now that they've lost their kids? Do you really think they'll accept your logical explanation of events and back off? This is just my personal opinion as a doctor, but there is little violence as brutal as that of an enraged group that has never even heard of the various war treaties. Do you want a lesson - a deadly lesson - as to why the constantly bickering powers-that-be really need to sit down together and work out their differences peacefully?"
Heivia shut his mouth and raised both hands in surrender. While trembling.
Then Quenser got down to business.
"I want to know the basic specs of the Capitalist Corporations' Lunchboxes. We can't return to our maintenance base zone in time without doing something about them. And even if we do get back, we'll still be forced to continue the attack on the elevator. It wouldn't hurt to come back with a way to destroy those boxy machines as a souvenir. We were separated from the battalion thanks to some asshole's friendly fire and I'm sure Frolaytia is absolutely pissed at us by now, so we need something to calm her down."
"But that's suicide, " said Heivia."You aren't planning to abandon our temporary safety to attack those cutting-edge murderous paperweights, are you? You'll just get yourself torn apart by their heavy machineguns and grenades!!"
"That's what will happen if you don't hand over any useful information."
He had mostly been on the run, but Heivia had indeed fought the Lunchboxes. They had to rely on his observations from then.
"First of all, they're basically big hunks of armor. Firing a missile at them head on, from the sides, or even on the top won't destroy them."
Since unmanned weapons did not need space for anyone inside, they could add in more armor. That much Quenser had already known.
"It goes without saying that assault rifles and anti-materiel rifles are useless against them. You might be able to destroy the exposed lenses or sensors, but the act of shooting would also give away your position. Even if we were hiding behind cover, they could fire their fully-auto grenade launcher to fill the entire space with explosive flames. Explosives would be raining from the sky, so I wouldn't call that an effective tactic."
Quenser licked his lips before responding.
"That means they're heavy, doesn't it? Could we focus our attacks on the continuous tracks?"
"Maybe we could stop them from moving, but they'd still fire back on us and they have a longer range than us. Making the mobile turrets into stationary ones won't prevent this used truck from being obliterated by bullets."
In fact, they were currently stopped because of all the Lunchboxes in standby mode. Those things were not frightening because they made unpredictable patrols. Even if you immobilized them, they would already have you surrounded. Stopping them was not enough to escape.
"What about their power usage?"
According to Braskine, they could last for a week while in standby mode.
But on the other hand...
"They're electric and it has to take a lot of power to move something so heavy. If we had them run a needless marathon to drain their batteries, they wouldn't be able to shoot back anymore."
"You want us to wait for their batteries to die while being chased by a machinegun that fires 700 shots a minute? Our bodies would be riddled with tens of thousands of bullets before that happened. It isn't realistic." Heivia breathed an exasperated sigh."Besides, we got lucky and slipped through a gap in their circle. Just like some small fish left behind in a tide pool. If we do anything to stand out now, they'll change their formation to include us. And once that tide pool is gone, we suffocate. The end."
"..."
Their objective was returning to the maintenance base zone.
Beginning a misguided retaliation operation against the guerillas would not solve anything. The armored Lunchboxes were being controlled by the operators in the space elevator's ground base, so the retaliation operation had to be reworked to attack them instead.
The data they needed for that could be found in the underground waterways Braskine had told Quenser about. Since the jamming prevented them from transmitting with a single tap of the touchscreen, they would have to bring it back themselves.
If they could do that, they could avoid carrying around that unnecessary guilt.
In other words, Quenser was not looking for any major upheaval on the battlefield. Finding a way to take out those cutting-edge unmanned ground vehicles would be best.
"If you're going to act, you should do it soon, " said Braskine to hurry them along."Those unmanned ground vehicles are worth more to the Federation of Elevator Industries than the local guerillas, so they'll want to avoid having to abandon them after their batteries die. They periodically send around an unmanned power vehicle to recharge them. And the Lunchbox formation might change when that happens."
This was all thanks to the elevator.
Everything needed for war, from lunches to bombs, could be sent down from the heavens. And in quantities of several dozen tons. The power vehicles, the work vehicles needed to maintain those, and even additional Lunchboxes to protect the work vehicles could be sent down in near limitless numbers.
Quenser agreed that it would be best to take action before the next time that happened.
"They're covered in armor and taking out their continuous tracks only turns them into stationary turrets." The student placed a hand on his chin."We also can't wait for them to run out of power. And they were designed to withstand the extreme African environment, so I doubt they're going to malfunction all that easily."
"There you go again, bragging about the enemy's specs."
Heivia sounded annoyed, but that was not what Quenser was doing.
He had wondered about something this whole time, so he returned to that question here.
"Then what do they do about that?"
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."
"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!!"
Part 15
The engine roared.
They could not see in the sandstorm. Even with the headlights on, visibility was limited to a few meters ahead at the most. On top of that, their radios and the map on their mobile devices were still useless thanks to the jamming.
After searching out the direction of the barely-visible orange sun, they had to take a straight shot toward the maintenance base zone. If they got lost even once, it was all over. With zero visibility, they could easily end up driving in endless circles.
The Lunchboxes were not functioning either.
Their cameras, microphones, and sensors were useless with the sandstorm scraping against them and the sand might also be blocking their transmissions. The Capitalist Corporations were probably using ultrasound or infrared transmissions to avoid their own jamming, but not even that was perfect. During the day, the desert sand would be hotter than a human body and it would be mixed with plenty of iron sand. The sandstorm might function even better than chaff or a flare.
Quenser and Heivia crossed a few different humps in the road in quick succession.
The buggy flew off of those like a ramp.
They passed by only a few meters from something like big hunk of rock. No, that was probably one of the Capitalist Corporations' unmanned ground vehicles. They heard machinegun fire shortly afterwards, but they could not even imagine where the bullets were flying.
The buggy had no roof.
Heivia held the collar of his uniform over his mouth as he shouted.
"We should've just waited for this in the first place!! Then we wouldn't have had to risk our lives getting so close to the damn things!!"
"It wouldn't work out that well. Do you know a space elevator's biggest weakness, Heivia?"
"Huh?"
"The carbon nanotube wires are resistant enough to heat to be constantly exposed to the thermosphere, but they're still weak to high-voltage currents - in other words, lightning. The Capitalist Corporations has to be using defensive meteorological weapons to avoid that!!"
With a loud bursting noise, things cleared up overhead.
Some kind of giant explosion had blown away the sandstorm. Several large holes had formed in the filthy screen and the blue sky was visible beyond like a famous model's head pasted onto a nude body, but each of those holes had to be kilometers across.
"What the hell!? Did Mother Lady drop something again!?"
"There was no flash of light or explosive boom, so that was probably concentrated sulfuric acid or something."
"Those greedy bastards are dropping that dangerous stuff on our heads!?"
Heivia's eyes bugged out, but Quenser maintained a serious expression as he continued.
Whatever it was had detonated at more than 10, 000 meters up, so it would not fall straight down. But it would contaminate the ground somewhere. Either as a mist or as acid rain after absorbing more moisture.
In other words...
"Similar to a thermobaric, weapon, they cram it into the warhead in a concentrated state and it spreads out over kilometers in a mist-like state once it detonates. Sulfuric acid can dissolve metal, but it can also be used as a rapid drying agent. Clouds are basically collections of moisture, right? If you want to chemically eliminate the thunderclouds, there's no cheaper and more effective chemical. If you don't give a crap about the local environment, that is!!"
Rapidly removing the moisture would change the density of the air, causing a large shift in the atmosphere. In other words, it created wind. The localized sandstorm vanished like they were waking from a dream.
A single space elevator made all of this possible.
Weather forecasts were no longer necessary. Whether it was sunny or rainy, the direction of the wind, and the humidity could all be manipulated from one hour to the next.
And for fleeing Quenser and Heivia, the sandstorm had been a thick curtain protecting them from harm. With it suddenly stripped away, they were exposed to the Lunchboxes' eyes.
"Can you use those little drones of yours!?" asked Heivia.
"The Kitchen Knives can only move as fast as a toy and they're wired! You can't just throw one out of a moving car and expect it to work!!"
Quenser instead grabbed the shoulder-fired missile launcher that Heivia had been walking around with.
He had not been trained in its use, so he could not fire a missile from it.
However.
The instant he leaned out from the passenger seat with the launcher on his shoulder, the machinegun fire strayed away from them.
"The hell? What'd you do!?"
"This thing has to use a really powerful IR laser for targeting, so I aimed that at the Lunchbox's camera lens. It's the same as a rude spectator shining a laser pointer in a soccer player's eyes. That trick works on machines too!!"
But it would not work every time.
If something that simple would have worked consistently, the Lunchboxes never would have been such a threat.
Quenser knew they would have to use every trick in the book here, so...
"How much further to the maintenance base zone!?"
"We're going 120km/h right now!! I'm flooring this thing to the point that it'll burn out the lawnmower-size engine eventually, so I doubt it'll take even an hour!!"
The 30cm Kitchen Knives were no longer helpful.
To avoid being shot from behind, Quenser leaned out and dumped the contents of his water bottle and the black powder on the exposed rear wheel. The power of the tire launched the stuff backwards.
"Everything you're doing is like a makeshift weapon built from items at a dollar store, but these are cutting-edge Capitalist Corporations weapons. Can you really keep tricking them like this!?"
Several grenades were launched in an arc so they fell in a line, but they exploded a decent distance away from the two boys. The air overhead must have been so unstable that they veered off course. That meant it had nothing at all to do with Quenser and Heivia's efforts. Without the wind, that would have killed them since the simple buggy had no roof or walls.
"Figure something out already!!" snapped Heivia while holding the steering wheel in both hands.
"Shut up and give me time to think!!"
Needless to say, driving along an unpaved area of land was enough of a risk in and of itself. Doing so at more than 100km/h was tantamount to suicide. The buggy was made for off-roading, but as it bounced around, it could have lost its balance and tilted up onto two wheels at any time.
"They have to be using IR - we just can't see it ourselves. And even if the grenades fly in an arc, they have to have a direct line of sight when targeting. Distance is more important than direction. If we can get them to mistake our distance, they won't be able to hit us."
"Here it comes, Quenser!!"
"Dammit!!"
Heivia heard the sound of splitting plastic and looked over in shock.
"Why are you destroying your own equipment!? Have you gone insane!?"
"Shut up and watch where you're driving!!"
Quenser removed his uniform's jacket, dismantled one of his Kitchen Knives, and removed the black powder. He coated the outside of the jacket with the powder but left the inside clean. Then he tied the two sleeves to the metal bar on top of the buggy so it flew like a flag.
It flapped wildly like a pirate flag in the 120km/h wind.
The unusually round sounds of weapons fire continued, but the soaring grenades exploded well before reaching the buggy.
This time, it was no coincidence.
"Black absorbs light and white reflects it. That's true for the invisible infrared range too. Laser range finders shine a straight-line laser and measure the reflection and attenuation, so they can't deal with something that rapidly switches between white and black. The value keeps changing, so they can't figure out the actual distance."
They continued racing across the desert.
They drove ever closer to the maintenance base zone.
But none of their makeshift countermeasures were a fundamental solution. The Lunchboxes could retry no matter how may times their attacks failed and the Mother Lady space elevator could drop more cargo tanks from the heavens if need be.
Some unnatural static burst from the buggy's radio.
They were under the effects of some powerful jamming, but this was something else.
"Radar targeting? We can't do anything about that!!"
"Hang on tight!!"
Heivia slammed down the gas pedal even more.
With their thick armor, the Lunchboxes could only move as fast as a scooter, so the buggy could lose them while zooming 120km/h down the wasteland.
But losing the physical machines did not necessarily mean they could escape firing range. The heavy machineguns that fired anti-materiel bullets thicker than someone's thumb could blow away a soldier's head from a range of 2000m. The grenades launched along parabolic arcs could reach even further than that.
And there was an even more horrifying possibility than either of those.
What if the targeting data from the surface was being shared with the giant space elevator?
"What?" Heivia was not watching where he was driving."It's midday, but there are stars shining in the sky."
"That's Mother Lady's artificial meteor shower, dammit!!"
A kilometers-long wall of dust clouds rose from beyond the horizon behind them. And it did not end there. Another row appeared and then yet another like a giant copier printing something on the ground here. The ground was torn apart evenly, thoroughly, and mercilessly.
It did not matter that the allies giving the elevator its targeting data were still in that area. The Lunchboxes were unmanned. And for that matter, would the elevator have responded any differently had the data come from living soldiers?
The explosions were advancing faster than the buggy.
Heivia Winchell knew only one way they could survive this.
He had noticed something earlier.
The buggy flew right past a Legitimacy Kingdom turret.
Or more accurately, a tank hiding in a hole in the ground to keep it low and harder to detect.
The instant they passed by, the deafening roar of a cannon slammed into the buggy and the two idiots within.
But not from the tank.
The Capitalist Corporations were not the only ones who could share targeting information. A colossal weapon had received that data via IR or ultrasound and then fired.
The attack came from one of the Baby Magnum's main cannons.
The roar of the cannon really did flip the buggy over as it drove. Quenser and Heivia nearly had their crushed flesh and blood soak into the dry African land, but the massive beam of energy tore through the lights in the sky. A hole was opened in the artificial meteor shower and the Legitimacy Kingdom potatoes were spared that orbital bombing.
The unmanned ground vehicles were fully-armored, but they were only 3m long.
The Lunchboxes were obliterated by the friendly fire.
Either being within 10m was close enough or the tank was loaded with powerful equipment because they heard a staticky voice over their radio for the first time in a long while.
"Quenserrrr, Heiviaaa. You certainly took your sweet time. Did you finally decide to return so you could be thrown into the detention barracks for deserting?"
"It was your friendly fire that got us into this mess, Myonri!!!!!!"
Part 16
The meaning of their retaliation had changed.
With the underground water data from Quenser's mobile device, they now had a way to attack Mother Lady's ground base. Once the data being inputted was correct, they could automatically produce accurate calculation sheets.
The guerillas were only borrowing their equipment, so attacking them would not be emotionally satisfying. Directly attacking the elevator would be better. For example, they could block up the underground waterways used for cooling in order to fully take over the elevator.
It looked like they would have this worked out by sunset.
It helped a lot that Quenser and Heivia's information had led them to a solution concerning the Lunchboxes. The Legitimacy Kingdom loaded some paint rounds with black paint before heading back out. The tanks would blow away most of them, but any that slipped through would be overheated using the powerful sunshine of equatorial Africa. The Capitalist Corporations operators noticed what was going on and tried to shake it off, but that did nothing with the special quick-drying paint being used.
The combat engineers stabbed thick metal plates straight down to seal off the underground waterways deep belowground.
(The Federation of Elevator Industries isn't just a company. They're a massive space development agency jointly funded by the seven major companies that control the Capitalist Corporations' home country. This isn't going to end here. )
Quenser held his radio to his mouth near a surface facility several dozen times the size of a domed stadium.
The military station's jamming was still active, but they could communicate using large communication relay trucks. The trick was apparently to convert the signal to high-power infrared.
"We've settled things here, Frolaytia. The Princess used her armor to power through the anti-tank coilguns attached higher up, so we've successfully conquered Mother Lady's ground base. The Federation of Elevator Industries operators have put their hands up and surrendered. Taking them prisoner would be a pain, so can we just hand them over to the local guerillas?"
"No, you can't. Prisoners have a diplomatic use, so treat them with care as you bring them back. A Legitimacy Kingdom spy infiltrating Los Angeles blew his cover, so we already need as many bargaining chips as we can get on the first day of the new year."
"Tch. Fine, but only if you promise me they'll be thrown in cells smaller than those capsule hotels used for terrorists."
Quenser clicked his tongue and then looked elsewhere.
Just the base of that structure was 2000 meters tall and the wires continued on up out of sight.
"A lot of guerillas died in our attempt to take this thing. And they're going to blame us, not the Capitalist Corporations."
"What, feeling sorry for the enemy, Quenser? Go speak with our counselor about it. Those guerillas had sided with the Capitalist Corporations from the moment they believed those sweet promises and allowed a military base to be built here. You don't get to be a pacifist just because you live in a blank zone. We have no reason to go easy on someone who's benefiting from the Federation of Elevator Industries who are acting on behalf of 7th Core, the rulers of an enemy home country. If that isn't enough to convince you, then go get a prescription."
She was correct.
That answer scored a perfect 100, but that perfection irritated Quenser for some reason.
Did the correct answer not always align with the right thing to do?
"What's our next job? The explosives I have in my bag aren't enough to blow up the base of the elevator here."
"I'm not expecting that much from a student. I don't like it either, but it seems the higher ups want us to solve this troublesome elevator problem before we take time off for the carnival. That means the next battle will be fought elsewhere."
"?"
They had solved the problem on the ground.
But she made it sound like there was still a problem concerning the Mother Lady space elevator.
"In the time the Federation of Elevator Industries managed to buy here, they have apparently spent several days using the elevator to launch their primary forces into space. It seems they intend to take the space station and continue the fight there."
"Are you for real?"
"That fortress has a diameter of 20km and we can't cut off its power supply from down here because the space station uses a separate power system. If that federation is to be believed, the orbital station is loaded with enough weapons to turn any part of the planet - battlefield country or safe country - to ashes just by dropping their equipment from orbit. But unfortunately, the Legitimacy Kingdom refuses to listen to threats. Thus, we cannot choose to stop fighting. We started it, so we have to finish it. You're going to visit space soon, Quenser. But don't upload any photos to social media no matter what color the earth is."
Between the Lines 1
Seven massive companies controlled the Capitalist Corporations home country that covered the western half of North America.
Those companies were known as 7th Core.
They held great influence over every last part of that world power and they were deeply involved in this space elevator as well. The Federation of Elevator Industries was a space development agency jointly funded by those seven companies.
They were an incarnation of capitalism.
All things, from war to philanthropy, were judged by whether or not they would bring profit to the company.
"Then I will sell three company-owned buildings in Seattle, Cascade District. Is that okay?"
"Yes."
"But one of those is an exceedingly high-level IT research facility."
"As long as it will bring us even greater profit."
That elderly man would not bat an eye at a mere 100 million dollars.
He sounded annoyed with his young and beautiful secretary for seeking confirmation about every little thing.
"For example, we could buy out a rival company. In fact, get started on that after inflating the funds with some arbitrary market deals....AI research is such nonsense. Get rid of that pesky rival and we're freed from wasting so much money on that pointless development race. Then we can focus on what really matters. What I want right now is steel and sturdy cars."
"Then I will do that."
For them, everything was about money. That meant they had a monetary reason for constructing the space elevator in Africa's Turkana District. And not the immediate benefit of spreading the reach of online shopping to cover the entire planet.
They were focused on much greater profit.
"What do you think?" asked the elderly man while calmly progressing a plan that would ruin the lives of hundreds of his own employees and more than ten times as many of the rival company's employees.
"It seems like a reasonable distribution."
They were in Los Angeles in the Central Valley District of western America.
That was the capital of the Capitalist Corporations' home country. This conversation took place in the top floor of a smart building sticking up even higher than all the other towering skyscrapers.
The elderly man seated in the president's office that took up an entire building floor was named Raphael Goldenclipper.
The much younger secretary in a suit was named Serenade Blackrose.
"Short-term-stay villas have been constructed on the moon, but they are reliant on the transportation of goods from earth, " said the secretary."No one can move their indefinitely. Mars and Jupiter also seem unlikely at this stage, so relying on any existing planet will likely never be realistic. That is why I consider her suggestion to be useful."
"This planet will eventually run dry."
"Our advertising agency's simulator determined that a plan to reduce the human population would cost too much."
"So the final problem is the humans, huh?"
"Yes, " calmly confirmed the secretary."But if personnel expenses and service charges were eliminated, it would reduce the accepted prices for the products. If the factories were fully automated, we would have no choice but to sell the products for the cost of the original materials. To efficiently make money, inefficient humans must be made a part of the production system somewhere."
"Hm."
"Humans increase the price of the product and humans buy the product at that increased price. But they must have stable lives to do so. That is where Objects come in. If we recruited soldiers from the general populace, it would only allow former soldiers to bring along firearms when they riot. And the damage will be greater the more advanced and unique the technology. Hence, it is best for only a limited few to hold all the power to fight."
The rulers of capital never actually touched paper money.
Money was a status symbol, but what you really needed was a useful position in a company. In that case, the money need not exist in a non-digital form. Paper money might as well have been a silly toy to them.
"What are the other six companies saying?"
"They are mostly in agreement. Some do not trust the Federation of Elevator Industries, but no alternatives have been suggested. If they truly intended to break away, they would instead say nothing at all."
The elderly man did not even attend the secret meetings held over the internet. Some people were safer when they remained ignorant of what was going on around them. All the dirty work was left to his secretary.
It was that special arrangement that had allowed such a young woman to push past a veritable harem of beautiful secretaries to become the strategic secretary who stood alongside the CEO.
"Then you'll be continuing as before?"
"Yes, I will continue to monitor the situation."
| ← Ch. 162 | Ch. 164 → |