Zero Sum Game (3 page)

"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.

— — —

Amano 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.

The apartment had been quiet when she had left in the morning; her father had already left for the day, and she wouldn't see him again until that afternoon. Her father worked as a conductor for the bullet train, called the
Shinkansen
in Japanese. He operated the early morning runs on the Sanyo line between Hakata and Shin-Osaka. Because he had to be at work at five in the morning, he went to bed long before Hina did. Her weightlifting training didn't end until late afternoon, so she saw her father for only a short time in the evening.

Thinking of him brought to mind today's chore. She would be going back to school, her second year of junior high, in a few days and she had yet to buy her uniform. She had been busy during summer vacation, and her father's work schedule had prevented him from going with her to buy it. Today would almost be her last chance to buy her uniform. Like her father, she had a habit of doing things at the last minute, something that had driven her mother crazy.

She hoped her mother was doing fine in Fukuoka. The divorce hadn't been bitter or long, but it had been a divorce nonetheless. In a rare move, Hina's father Mitsuo had been awarded custody because her mother Risako had not fought for it. Hina was glad, she had always been closer to her father than her mother (she knew she wasn't supposed to choose a "favorite", but she
did
like her father better), and after the paper signing and legal work, her mother had moved to Fukuoka while Hina and her father stayed in Hiroshima.

Without her mother's financial income, there would be no way her father could continue paying the rent and utilities in their apartment. Two weeks before summer vacation ended, Hina and her father had moved to a cheaper apartment: a two-bedroom on the fourth floor in a building with no elevator. It was smaller than their last place and much older, but closer to her school than her nicer-but-more-expensive former home.

As the belongings had been separated and packed for two different dwellings, Hina realized her school uniforms, both the summer and winter versions, had been shipped to Fukuoka to her mother's. She had called to explain the situation, but her mother had told her she wouldn't be able to go through all her belongings in time to send the uniforms back before the start of the new school term. Hina would have to buy two new uniforms. Being summer now, she would only buy her summer uniform. Her father told her that by the time winter came, her mother would be able to send back her winter uniform. If not, they could go together to buy another one.

Closing her email, Hina texted another friend, Rena. Rena responded immediately. Hina texted her back; she walked with her head down, her focus drifting more and more into the conversation, her thumb a blur over the touchscreen keyboard. Her pace slowed and her purse made wide arcs off her arm as it dangled. Hina smiled as Rena complained about how her little brother would be a first-year next year and in the same school as her; now she would see him 24 hours a day. Hina lost track of her surroundings as the 8.8 centimeter screen took up her focus. She tuned out the world around her.

A sharp tug on her purse strap pulled her back to reality and off her feet. She dropped her iPhone. Its plastic-meeting-ground tinkling was followed by the deeper thud of Hina hitting the pavement. She managed to land on her butt, arms out behind her, palms downwards. She didn't know what happened and looked up for an answer. A young man ran fast, Hina's purse trailing behind him as he clutched its strap.

After the initial shock, she yelled at the top of her lungs. The young man didn't even glance behind him as he sprinted. Hina rose to her feet and ran after him. She yelled again, and when she saw other pedestrians, she screamed, "Help! He stole my purse! Help me! Help me!"

Most people gasped and yelped in surprise as the man ran past them. No one tried to stop him. Hina couldn't believe what was happening. She ran as fast as she could, but the man had a head start on her and he threaded around slower moving people like a professional race car driver passing his opponents. Hina's heart pounded, not only from the physical exertion, but because almost her whole life was in that purse: her train pass, her bus card, her makeup, and her money. She focused on the young man. He wore jeans and a t-shirt with an unbuttoned business-style long-sleeved shirt over it that billowed behind him as he ran. On his head sat a silver and black baseball cap with the bill pulled to one side.