Zero Sum Game (7 page)

Fujiya's eyes narrowed. "I think you have the wrong person."

"No, I don't, Colonel. But these flash skins do their job a little too well, don't they? I look a lot different from our last meeting with General Novs."

Fujiya's eyes widened. "Major Tru?"

Ichihara had been hoping Fujiya would be happy to see him, but that wasn't the case. The other Noigel didn't smile or make any move to greet him.

"What are you doing here?" Fujiya asked.

"Me? What about you? When did you agree to the principles of genocide?"

His friend took a step back. "It's them or us."

Ichihara couldn't believe the black-or-white response. "Are you ready to wipe out an entire species?" He stepped closer to his friend. "Help me. Tell me who you're working with."

Fujiya's mouth twitched.

He always did have a terrible bluffing face
, Ichihara thought. "I know another Noigel is here. Help me stop him. We don't have to kill these people."

Fujiya walked around Ichihara as he talked. "You joined the Defiant, didn't you? Those soft-hearted pansies would have us suffer and die. We are trying to save our species. Our heritage, our legacy, everything."

"At the expense of another."

"Don't you get it? If the terraforming catoms work, we live. If they don't, we move on to another world and no one back on the ark will know this place existed. It's a win-win situation."

Ichihara couldn't believe his friend. "Speciescide isn't a win-win. It's immoral."

"What would you have us do?"

"Look for other worlds! Terraform moons—"

Fujiya interrupted. "There is no time!"

Ichihara paused to take a deep breath. He looked around, wondering if they had attracted attention with their raised voices, but they were still alone.

Softer, Ichihara said, "Tell me who you're working with. Is it someone in the military? An intelligence deep-covert operative? Who?"

Fujiya shook his head. "I can't, Volon."

"You will be a mass murderer."

"I'll be alive." He paused. "But we were friends in the military. I can do you one favor. His name is Yusuke Shimizu."

Ichihara smiled. "Thank you." His friend had come through for him after all. As a colonel, Dolok had to be tough. But he had known the man wasn't a killer. He turned away from his friend.

"Danger behind you," Dolim said.

Ichihara spun around a split second before the massive arm wrapped itself around his neck. An elbow jab to his assailant's chest loosened the hold. Ichihara swung his briefcase at the larger man's head. Fujiya's fist smashed through it, blowing apart the hinges and scattering papers and pens everywhere. Ichihara gave a straight jab to Fujiya's mouth. The blow would have dented steel, but Fujiya's battle suit was stronger than that, and with no blood in the flash skin, he didn't bleed from the blow.

Ichihara tried to swing again, but Fujiya caught his arm. He tried again, Fujiya caught his other arm as well. Fujiya gave him a vicious head-butt that sent him stumbling backwards. Fujiya kicked him in the chest and his body went airborne, moving like a rag doll in a hurricane. He flew a hundred meters before slamming into a white work truck, crumpling the cab and rolling the truck onto its side. Momentum carried him farther until he landed in a heap on the ground.

Stunned, he weaved as he stood; even through his battle suit-enhanced imperviousness, he had felt the kick. Over the top of the now-sideways truck, he saw Fujiya running at him. Ichihara leapt over the vehicle, legs tucked underneath him, and rammed his knees into Fujiya's chest. They both went to the ground but Ichihara stood back up first. They traded blows and Ichihara fell back on his training, using a Noigel martial art similar to Muay Thai that emphasized the legs and knees. Fujiya tried to kick but Ichihara blocked it with his own foot, slamming both their feet several centimeters into the cement.

Fujiya managed to push Ichihara away and get his foot out of the small hole. Ichihara wasn't sure how much longer he himself would last; he was faster than Fujiya and a better fighter. Even though they had received the same military training, Ichihara had augmented it with the guerrilla, no-holds-barred tactics of the Defiant. But Fujiya was more powerful. Ichihara's punches landed true, but when Fujiya struck back, his blows were harder. Fujiya was a skilled fighter in his own right, but Ichihara knew if he ever let Fujiya get another hold on him, it would be over. His friend's strength was hard to match.

"Such actions will undoubtedly ruin our cover," Dolim said in a calm voice, as if he had commented on the fact that grass was green.

"Do you think so?" Ichihara replied in a sarcastic tone. But he knew the suit was right. With all the security cameras around, the fight would be recorded and analyzed. He couldn't afford to have his cover blown. He needed everyone to think he was a human, at least until he could figure out how Shimizu and Fujiya were going to terraform Earth.

Ichihara told his suit to go into neutral configuration. The gray suit flowed and reformed into a black one-piece with small horizontal ridges running across it from neckline to feet. It covered Ichihara completely except for his hands, head, and feet.
At least this way
, he thought,
the camera won't be picking up a business man in a gray suit.
He hoped it would confuse the authorities when they watched the playback video.

They needed to get this fight out of the factory and into a more private area. Fujiya rushed him, and Ichihara ripped a speed limit signpost from the ground, along with a large chunk of concrete attached to the end, like a gray, dirty, half-eaten lollipop. Fujiya couldn't stop his charge. Ichihara swung the signpost like a bat; it caught Fujiya in the stomach and lifted him into the air, sending him over the factory's far concrete wall and out of sight. Ichihara dropped his weapon and ran several meters then leapt, his superhuman strength rocketing him in the direction Fujiya had gone.

Ichihara found Fujiya in a clearing. He landed in the hard dirt and sprinted after him as Fujiya bolted towards the forest. He was glad Fujiya had decided to run on foot; their super jumping would have attracted more attention than he needed at the moment.

The two aliens ran, dodging trees and hurdling fallen logs. At first Ichihara swatted away branches that slapped his face, but he did it out of reflex. He knew his battle suit made him impervious to almost any natural or manmade object on Earth. After several moments, he stopped slapping and let the plants and trees whip him. He gained on Fujiya; he heard the larger Noigel crashing through the forest, wood snapping and animals protesting at the intrusion into their home. Ichihara caught sight of him as Fujiya neared a large, fallen tree trunk.

Between the trunk and the ground was a gap, but Fujiya wouldn't fit through it. He crossed his arms in front of him and ducked his head down. He plowed through the tree. A boom of snapping wood rang out, startling birds and small animals. The two halves were pushed aside like Volkswagens trying to stop a freight train. Ichihara continued on through the hole Fujiya had made but he was losing distance. He stopped and scooped up a large rock.

He never could have made the throw in his natural form. But Dolim helped guide his aim. Ichihara threw the rock. It shot like a missile, impacting against Fujiya's back and shattering in a cloud of dust. Fujiya flew forward off his feet. Even before the impromptu weapon had hit its target, Ichihara started running again. Fujiya had been flung past the edge of the forest and landed in a small clearing. Ichihara saw they were near a power relay station.

Fujiya stomped towards him. Ichihara jumped up, tucking his legs underneath him, before shooting them forward. His feet caught Fujiya straight in the chest and sent him flying backwards. Ichihara landed on his back then scrambled to his feet. Fujiya grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it in his face. Ichihara squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them with his hands. Fujiya leaped on top of him, trying to beat him to the ground. Ichihara kicked out and his foot connected with Fujiya's chin. He blocked one punch by Fujiya but couldn't avoid the other, and it rammed into his stomach, doubling him over. Fujiya grabbed his right arm in both hands and flung him like a sack of grain being tossed into the flat bed of a truck.

Ichihara slammed into a tree; it cracked and fell forward. He leaned to one side to avoid it, but Fujiya caught it in one hand, holding it aloft like it weighed not more than a pillow, and tossed it aside. Ichihara rushed, but Fujiya sidestepped and delivered a vicious blow to the back. Ichihara stumbled forward; Fujiya picked up the fallen tree he had tossed aside and played Ichihara's own trick on him: he tossed the tree like a lance, and it rocketed into Ichihara's back. He flew forward through the fence protecting the power station and into the machinery itself. Sparks went off like miniature explosions. Electricity like tens of lighting bolts hitting him at once coursed through his flash skin, his battle suit, and his body. The energy overrode the built-in safeties, charging the flash skin and suit with more power than they could handle. The excess fed back into the station and it exploded in an ear-splitting boom.

Although his very bones danced with electricity and his brain felt like it would soon melt, he had enough strength to attempt a jump to safety. As his feet left the ground, the explosion raised him up and carried him far away.

CHAPTER 7

In a convenience store, Hina flipped through the fashion magazines. She still wore her gym clothes and her school backpack: blue with gray trim and straps, and the kanji character for "middle" stamped on the front flap. Ami and her other friends were not with her; only the clerk and two housewives were in the store.

She wanted to buy the magazines but knew she wouldn't. It would be wasteful to buy them when her father was paying twice as much money for her school uniform: first the stolen money then tomorrow's shopping trip. But the magazines were so interesting, and she loved fashion. She dreamed of being a fashion designer for young girls. She hoped to work for some of the popular companies like Roni, Sister Jenni, or Banana Chips. She didn't agree with every fashion ensemble the magazines featured; some went too far in layers and accessories, but she had to admit they were so cute and colorful and stylish. She wanted to add to that, to design her own styles and see young girls wearing them on the streets. She imagined what a thrill that would be, seeing a girl walk by dressed in the latest fashion, and say to herself, "I designed that!"

She put the magazine back on the rack, took a final stroll through the store, looking at the snacks and drinks but deciding not to buy anything, and walked towards the door. She heard a distant pop, like a firecracker going off, and the lights stuttered. The constant hum of the refrigerators sputtered like an interrupted radio signal, then died at the same time the lights went dark. She looked around in surprise. Behind her, the two housewives started chattering to each other and asked the helpless clerk what had happened. Hina was glad the doors were manual and not the automatic ones where you pressed the little button to open them. She walked outside. It wasn't only the convenience store, the whole neighborhood had lost power. Hina decided she better head straight home.

She decided to take the shortest route home. The road skirted the forest, and Hina saw the nearby power station on fire, black smoke streaming skyward and sparks making soft popping sounds. There were no homes nearby, but she wondered if the forest would catch on fire. She hoped no one had been hurt.

She hurried, wondering if the power had gone out at her apartment also. She thought she lived too far away from the station for that. Still, it would be a little scary if it was, although it would be a while before it became dark.

On her right, she passed a small wooded area, a few square meters in size. Set in the back stood an abandoned shrine, the wood gray with age and pitted with holes. The shrine itself was little more than four walls and a pitched roof, not even two people could stand together inside it. It had a small sliding door, the top half had four square holes cut into it, two on top of each other. As she passed it she heard a man coughing; long, rough sounds that went on for several seconds.

"Help me," she heard.

The hoarse voice sounded like two rocks rubbing together. She stopped and peered in the direction of the abandoned shrine. She didn't see anyone and was about to keep on walking when she heard it again.

"Help me. Please."

The voice sounded strained and tired, with more than a hint of desperation tinting it. It spoke again, then broke into another long coughing spell. The voice came from inside the shrine.

Hina approached, her hands grabbing the straps of her school bag. Trees and thick bushes surrounded the shrine on three sides. She heard a shuffle, like a shoe rubbing against wood, and almost ran. But she held her ground. If a person was in trouble, she wanted to help. A part of her mind wondered what kind of person would be hiding inside a shrine. It could be an attacker, some sick freak that preyed on young girls. The thought sent goosebumps across her arms and legs but she tried to push it away. It could be an injured man, someone who had been attacked and was hiding here. That caused her to look around, waiting for her own attacker to come jumping out of the bushes, but she had not seen anybody on this street as she had walked home.

She took a few tentative steps towards the shrine. "Hello?"
I couldn't think of a better greeting?
she thought. Wasn't "Hello?" the standard phrase in horror movies before the heroine's best friend was killed? The thoughts of killers and scary movies almost sent her running again, so she called out, "Can you still hear me?"

A cough came from inside the tiny shrine. She put both hands on the wooden door and peered in through the hollow squares. She saw a man's head, twisted away from her. He coughed and clutched something she couldn't identify. She stepped back in shock. What was a man doing inside the shrine?

She pulled open the door. Inside, the man lay on the floor turned away from her, his lower abdomen pushed against the small stone pillar set into the middle of the shrine. The remains of candles that were long ago burned out topped the pillar. His legs were bent up and he was naked. He clutched a jacket or suit in his hands, Hina couldn't be sure what it was; it was rubber-looking but had sleeves and pant legs. Maybe it was a costume of some kind or maybe a type of work uniform.