Zero Sum Game Read online

  That raised Ichihara's suspicions.

  Using sources within JAXA, who wanted the metals for their space equipment, Ichihara had gotten hold of some of AHI's data. The "radical" and "new" materials were old news to him: they were Noigel in origin. He had a theory that a Noigel worked at AHI, using alien knowledge to augment human machines. The purpose would be to help subvert that same technology to terraform the planet. But Ichihara needed proof.

  He began to investigate Amano Heavy Industries. His chief suspect had been the company's founder and CEO, Takeshi Amano. But he turned out to be human. Ichihara continued. He investigated every scientist, designer, and researcher the company employed. Everyone was human. Not sure what to do, he decided to check every worker, no matter what their position. Several weeks bore fruitless results until he came across Shota Fujiya.

  His file had Fujita listed as a delivery worker, but Ichihara noticed his unusually high security clearance within the company. Further investigations had found proof of birth and a family registry, but school records, hospital admissions, even on-line purchase histories were nonexistent. No record of Shota Fujiya went back further than five years. The Noigel were getting sloppy, which meant they were getting desperate.

  Ichihara made his way down the crowded sidewalk toward AHI's headquarters, a modern building of glass and metal.

  At the corner of a convenience store, a Buddhist monk shook the metal rings on his staff, a donation bowl beside his feet. His robes were brown and orange. His bamboo hat sat at a low angle and covered most of his face. He said nothing as pedestrians walked by without glancing at him. He only stood and clanged his rings.

  Ichihara quickly took out his wallet and dropped a few 100-yen coins into the simple bowl. The monk bowed in appreciation but still said nothing.

  He continued up the street. Two blocks later, he crossed to the opposite street from AHI and took up position not too far from the bus stop. Fujiya didn't know Ichihara, but he thought that if Fujiya spotted him, he would look less like a loiterer and more like a businessman waiting to go to work.

  He stared at the second-story windows. His battle suit gave him superhuman sight. He gazed at the employees passing near the windows and read the reports in their hands as they conferred with colleagues. A man sat at his desk, his back to the window, and opened up a newspaper. Ichihara read part of an article about Toyota's stock prices before the article disappeared behind the man's shoulder.

  Ichihara couldn't get an entire view of the second floor. He needed to find out if Fujiya was a Noigel; if so, he would be their contact on Earth. He debated about walking in and waiting in the lobby but decided against it. If Fujiya did somehow suspect Ichihara of being a Noigel rebel, he might become violent, and that would be bad. The point of infiltrating Earth was not to let the native population know they were there. He needed to be close to Fujiya but wanted the meeting to be quick.

  "I need to make sure Fujiya is a Noigel," Ichihara whispered. "Any suggestions?"

  "None that fall within mission parameters," his suit replied.

  Ichihara sighed. He glanced at the people on the sidewalks, moving through their lives. He remembered the monk.

  "I need a change of clothes," he said.

  — — —

  Shota Fujiya liked simplicity. Intimidation made life simple. His flash skin accentuated his larger-than-average Noigel frame. He stood over two meters in height and weighed over one hundred ten kilograms. When he walked down the street, people gave him extra room.

  He walked down the street towards the headquarters of Amano Heavy Industries. His boss, Yusuke Shimizu, had called him in. Yusuke Shimizu. Fujiya had a hard time thinking of his superior in that respect; he also had some difficulty of thinking of himself as Fujiya. It wasn't simple. He was Tyren Dolok. He didn't like covert operations: the duplicity, the secrecy, the subtleness. They were Xilay's forte. Tyren wasn't a subtle person and he didn't like sneaking around. He preferred straightforward missions: go to a place, give their demands, respond with force if the locals didn't comply. Clean and simple. But Xilay had asked him to come on this mission and Tyren had agreed. He played by Xilay's rules; when Xilay told him to do something, Tyren did it. He tried to think of Xilay as Shimizu and himself as Fujiya.

  Amano's office building came into sight, and Fujiya gave a tsk of disgust. A monk, begging for money, stood motionless nearby. He bent his head in supplication and folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe. Fujiya sneered; the monks only stood there, depending on the kindness and whims of strangers for money instead of directly asking for what they wanted. Pathetic.

  The monk stepped in front of him. "Money, sir. A bill, a coin, anything you can spare."

  This surprised Fujiya, most monks he had seen never talked to passers-by. "Get out of my way," Fujiya said. He moved, but the man followed.

  "Please, anything you can give I'd appreciate. I'm sure you're a hard-working man with little to spare, but if you could, help me out." The man spoke calmly, keeping his hands in his sleeves. But he continually blocked Fujiya's attempts to pass him.

  "I said I don't have anything," Fujiya repeated, and tried to push past the man.

  The monk's demeanor changed in a flash. "I'm desperate. You have to help me out. I need this. If you don't…" A large wad of spittle landed on Fujiya's chest. "If you don't, I don't know what I'll do." The monk's eyes had a predatory and crazy quality. He struggled with Fujiya, one hand clutched the collar of his overalls while the other reached behind Fujiya's waist, going for the wallet. Fujiya pushed back; the two men were locked onto one another, weaving and shuffling in circles as they struggled.

  Angry, Fujiya grabbed the homeless man by the collar of his grimy shirt. He twisted and spun, then pushed outwards, flinging the man away. The man's feet left the sidewalk and he sailed through the air, hitting the wall of the AHI building. His head made a sick cracking sound as it connected with the concrete. He slid to his butt, legs splayed out. His large bamboo hat hung to one side.

  Fujiya, huffing in anger, glared at the nearby pedestrians who had witnessed the struggle. He stalked towards the entrance to Amano Heavy Industries, and the crowd parted before him. Today, he thought, is not going to be a simple day.

  CHAPTER 3

  Ichihara entered the small restaurant situated in a narrow side street. "Where's your bathroom?" he asked the clerk. She pointed to a small corner in the back. He entered and locked the door. He gazed at himself in the mirror; his large hat now sat straight on his head. Brown and orange robes replaced his business suit. Even his dress loafers were gone: split tabi socks and sandals adorned his feet. His head hurt from hitting the building. He turned on the faucet and washed his face.

  After leaving the bus stop, Ichihara had walked past the monk, who remained in his original place near the convenience store, still motionless except for the shaking of his staff. He ordered Dolim to scan him and replicate the man's clothes. He headed down an alley to avoid anyone seeing him change, then took a back street to AHI.

  Then he had waited outside Amano's headquarters, confident Fujiya would arrive because he often visited the headquarters during the day. A few hours had passed, and Ichihara had seen Fujiya stomping his way down the street. Then he did his monk performance.

  "Analysis, Dolim?" he asked his battle suit.

  "Conclusion: Shota Fujiya is a Noigel," replied Dolim.

  Ichihara smiled. He had been certain of it too. That meant Fujiya had to be the contact here on Earth. He needed to figure out Fujiya's plan to get the planet ready for terraforming and stop it. An easy sounding task in theory, but rather vague in practice. "Is there any chance you can identify who it is?"

  "Yes," replied Dolim. "Tyren Dolok. He was rumored to have been sent to this sector. Tyren is somewhat large for a Noigel, and this would fit with the larger man we saw."

  "That can't be right," Ichihara said. He lowered the toilet lid and sat. Dolim must have had the wrong identification. "No. It can't be Tyren. Are you sure it's him?"

  "The identification accuracy is over ninety percent," replied Dolim. Its voice held no condescension, it was stating a fact. "Is the name familiar to you?"

  "Yes." The ID hit him like a boxer's blow. "We were in the service together. I…I don't believe he'd go along with mass genocide. It doesn't seem like him."

  "This is a fight for survival. Members of a species will do almost anything to continue their race's existence."

  "You think you know somebody." He was glad Dolim took that as a rhetorical comment. He knew Dolim had not made a mistake. He thought out loud, more to get Dolim's insights than anything else. "But Colonel Dolok, I mean Fujiya, isn't a planner. He might be going along with this scheme, but he certainly didn't come up with it. He must be helping someone else."

  He stood and looked in the mirror. He would have to recheck everyone at AHI. "Is there any chance Fujiya's suit recognized you?" he asked Dolim.

  "Unlikely," came the quick response.

  Ichihara straightened and tugged on his robes. "Change back into business mode," he ordered.

  He watched his clothes flow and swirl like syrup on a hot afternoon. The brown faded, now replaced by gray. A white shirt and red tie emerged from the coalescing mass. He held the hat in his hands, it turned into a viscous liquid and slid across his hands to join the material forming on his arms. Ichihara felt the suit moving over his flesh and armor plates like velvety water sliding over every square centimeter of him. In a few moments, he was in his business suit again. Any trace of the monk was gone. He was Hiroshi Ichihara.

  He exited the bathroom. The clerk gawked at him and Ichihara chuckled as he passed by. If the clothes make the man, he thought, I am the man of a thousand faces.

  — — —

  Aman
o Heavy Industries' company offices took up the entire second floor of the building. Yusuke Shimizu exited the elevator and walked straight through the open-air workspace to the office of Takeshi Amano, the founder and CEO. Fujiya followed a few steps behind.

  Shimizu had been to AHI enough times (and had orders issued by Amano himself) that he and Fujiya didn't need to check-in with the receptionist or be bothered by security. Shimizu had free access to Amano and the company, and everyone knew it. No one stopped them and few greeted them as they walked by. He intimidated them, even scared them, and that suited him fine. Little beings, he thought. The humans had an expression, what was it again? Ah, yes. Little fish in a big pond. That's what humans were: little fish mindlessly sailing through the big pond of the galaxy.

  Shimizu was well-built, with a fit physique. He had small eyes that seemed to almost shine, heavy arched eyebrows, and a cornered square jawline. Where his partner was round and curved, Shimizu was tight and angular. Fujiya had the aura of a thug, intimidating but of the mindless variety. Shimizu, on the other hand, seemed intimidating, but of the ruthless kind. If someone were to cross them, Fujiya would beat them up. Shimizu would make sure they paid in blood, along with their friends and family.

  Shimizu knocked on the windowless door to Amano's office and waited until he heard the CEO say, "Enter." Inside the darkened room, Amano stood up from behind his desk like a junior exec meeting the head boss, a file folder labeled "Project T" laying in front of him. He sat in front of the desk while Fujiya ambled his way around the back of the office. Amano looked back and forth between the two of them before settling in his chair. He was of average height and build, his face rough from stress with a pronounced chin and wide eyebrows. He wore thin-framed glasses.

  Shimizu tossed his briefcase into the empty chair beside him and sat.

  There were no windows in the office. Shimizu knew Amano didn't like windows or openness when it came to himself and his surroundings. He liked walls and closure. Shimizu had overheard Amano's employees refer to the office as "The Box." Unlike the open, neutral colors of the work area, dark browns, maroons, and greens suffocated the office. Heavy wooden furniture squatted in their places, and the walls were bare except for three prints: one depicting a World War II tank, one of the interior of Akiyoshidai Cavern—the largest limestone cavern in east Asia, and the last showcasing the cramped bridge of a submarine. A couple personal effects rested on Amano's desktop: a picture of his childhood home and a dark glass paperweight in the shape of a penguin.

  Shimizu had chosen Amano Heavy Industries because it would be easy to control. AHI had been almost bankrupt when Shimizu had discovered it; a tiny and obscure machine parts manufacturer that nobody had wanted to deal with. It was perfect for Shimizu. Tiny companies meant fewer people to control, and companies in trouble were often more willing to follow any business plan that would help them stay afloat.

  Shimizu had approached Amano, offering him a formula he claimed would revolutionize the industry. But Amano would have to follow Shimizu's orders to the letter. Amano had balked at the idea. Shimizu had persuaded him, saying that if this formula failed, Amano could blame Shimizu and he would never see him again. If the formula worked, he and Amano would become partners. Amano agreed, stating he had nothing to lose since his company was already failing.

  The formula worked, the company bounced back, and Shimizu owned Amano. Shimizu didn't step into power publicly. But the more formulas he gave to Amano, the more contracts came in and the more control Shimizu gained. Not too long after, Shimizu had complete behind-the-scenes control of AHI.

  Shimizu leaned back and rested his right ankle on his left knee.

  "Thanks for coming," Amano said.

  He didn't bother bowing, Shimizu would have never returned it. A little fish, Shimizu thought.

  He turned his head at the knock on the door. A female office worker came in, carrying a tray with three cups of coffee, along with spoons, sugar, and cream. Everyone took a cup, although the young woman said nothing to Fujiya and Shimizu. He watched her as she poured coffee. She tried to avoid his gaze whenever possible. She left, and Amano took a sip of the hot liquid before speaking.

  "I read an update from Project T," he said, tapping the folder on his desk.

  "And?" Shimizu prompted. It was the first thing he had said to Amano since entering the office.

  Amano smiled. "The terraforming simulations came back positive. It means Earth will be stable after the process." He stood and walked around the corner of his desk, seeming to contemplate the meaning of what he had said. "It means it works," he told Shimizu, his voice full of excitement.

  Amano looked back and forth between them. "It means it works," he said again.

  "It means," Shimizu said, his voice cold, "that your world is at an end."

  Amano didn't seem shocked or appalled at Shimizu's statement. In fact, Shimizu thought, he looks the opposite.

  "It does," Amano said, his smile even wider. He opened a drawer and took out a picture frame. Smiling, he showed it to Shimizu. It showed a young woman in her early twenties, her face deadpan. On the other hand, the boy of thirteen, whom Shimizu recognized as Amano, had a large grin on his face. Amano put the picture on the desk, treating it like an ancient and important relic.

  Shimizu stood and approached him. To his credit, the little fish didn't back away. "And do you think, for one moment, that you will survive in our new world? That you are somehow unique or privileged? That you are above the other little beings that inhabit this planet?" He stared Amano in the eyes, his voice full of ice and his gaze laser-straight.

  Amano shook his head. His smile still hadn't faltered; he held Shimizu's gaze, something most humans, even most Noigel, didn't do. Shimizu's opinion of the little fish went up a notch. "We all go," Amano said, almost to himself. "And everything wrong we've ever done goes with it."

  They held each other's gazes a little longer. Shimizu's plan to terraform Earth into a planet for the Noigel depended on help from humans, it wasn't a feat he and Fujiya could do on their own. When he had revealed his true self to Amano, that he was an alien named Xilay Miir and he planned to destroy the entire planet, Amano had accepted it far faster than any human should have. Shimizu learned that Amano wanted the world to be destroyed although he never learned why. Amano had just now given a clue, but Shimizu wasn't sure what to think of it.

  He broke eye contact and retook his seat, then grabbed his coffee cup and drank the whole thing at once. Amano gathered himself again and spoke in the voice of a businessman and CEO.

  "The report said a sample of the terraforming catoms should be ready within a few days. After that, we can test them in a small, remote area, then proceed from there."

  Shimizu looked at Fujiya, who grinned. Shimizu allowed himself to feel a spark of hope. The simulation worked, he thought. He repeated Amano's words to himself again. If these humans had, with his help and Noigel designs of course, succeeded in getting the terraforming process to become stable, it meant the salvation of his civilization. Earth was their last hope. If it failed, they were doomed to die out, to become nothing but a galactic memory. But if they succeeded, if he succeeded, then Xilay Miir would become the most famous Noigel in history. He would have singlehandedly saved his entire species.

  CHAPTER 4

  "Bye-bye," Hina said in English as she waved to Ami and walked away. Ami had promised to help clean the shop and take any old items to the recycle store. So Hina made her way alone in the direction of the school uniform shop a few blocks away. She walked in silence for a couple of minutes, then took out her phone and texted Ami. When Ami didn't respond right away, Hina checked her email for any messages from her father asking her to pick up groceries or other things that he had either forgotten about or wouldn't have time to do after work. There were none.