Zero Sum Game
Authors: Cody L. Martin
Zero Sum Game
Cody L. Martin
EXCALIBUR BOOKS
Zero Sum Game by Cody L. Martin
Copyright © 2016 Cody L. Martin.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed "Attention: Permissions Coordinator," at the address below.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Published by Excalibur Books
4-4-12-303 Fuji-cho
Nishi-Tokyo-shi
Tokyo
202-001 4
Book formatting by Write Into Print.
Front and back cover artwork and design by Steph's Cover Design – stephscoverdesign.com
Contents
Other releases from Excalibur Books
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"The Unofficial Guide to Japanese Mythology" – an illustrated handbook of Kami, Yokai and Kaiju.
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"Moonlight, Murder & Machinery" – a Steampunk thriller set in Regency England.
by Zoe Drake –
"Dark Lanterns" – a collection of short horror stories based on Japanese folk tales and legends.
"Dead Hand Clapping" – a supernatural thriller set in turn-of-millennium Tokyo.
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by Jamie Carter –
"The Jason Zodiac Files Volume One: Whatever Happened To Jason?" – a biography of one of the most charismatic and mysterious figures in Rock Music's history.
Dedication
To my former Japanese teaching co-workers and students
CHAPTER 1
Sitting at a table in a coffee shop, Hiroshi Ichihara reflected on the beings around him. His body was not unlike theirs: he had a head, torso, two arms, and two legs. He thought, he felt, he dreamed. The similarities ended there. If they were to ever know the true him, they would run away in fear or lock him up for the rest of his 700 year-long lifespan.
Volon Tru was his real name, and underneath his close-cropped black hair and tan skin and behind his brown eyes, he wasn't human. He was a Noigel, from the planet of the same name. This Volon Tru lived within his flash skin, a device that shielded and disguised him. It generated a skintight energy field, protecting him from the world's dangerous atmosphere while also creating a holographic representation of his human self, a simulation so sophisticated the human eye couldn't tell the difference between it and a real person. Microscopic force fields and replicators duplicated the look and feel of the human body. Even his eyelids blinked without conscious control.
"Do you think they're worth saving, Dolim?" he whispered to the air.
The reply originated deep within his ears. "I'm a battle suit, not philanthropist or philosopher."
Ichihara took out his cell phone and tapped the dark screen. He held it up to his ear and paused, as if listening for someone to pick up on the other end. "I know that," he replied, "but I want your answer anyway. Do you think these humans are worth saving?"
The voice within him said, "My programming is to fulfill the mission. If the mission is to save humans, then yes, these beings are worth saving."
"Why?"
"Because my programming tells me so."
Ichihara sighed; he sometimes needed someone to talk to, and his only companion was his suit, Dolim. The flash skin allowed him to assume a human form; once it took a certain shape, it was unchangeable. A battle suit, on the other hand, was malleable. Made up of billions of catoms, the battle suit penetrated the cells of the wearer. The technology gave the Noigel abilities far beyond the norm of the local populace: this helped protect them in combat. The battle suit could also change clothes at will, a great asset in blending in. Ichihara wore a dark gray business suit with a white shirt and dark red tie, the suit jacket draped over the back of the chair. Ichihara's human form was a tall Japanese man, long limbed with a fit runner's-like physique. He had a strong jaw, and people often said he should have been a model instead of working as an advisor for JAXA, the Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency.
"You give me the same answer," he said.
"It's because you ask the same question," the battle suit replied.
It's right
, thought Ichihara,
it is a battle suit and not a philosopher.
Dolim wasn't even its real name, but covert missions could last years, and Ichihara felt if the suit had a name it would help him cope better with living on an alien world, cut off from all he knew and felt comfortable with. Thus, he had given the suit the name of a childhood friend. It had accepted the new designation without complaint.
He took another sip of his hot, sweet coffee. He had to admit Earth had one of the least appetizing planetary cuisines he had experienced, although it was somewhat compatible with his alien biochemistry. But Noigel had nothing as wonderful as coffee.
Compatible.
The word echoed around in his head for a few moments.
That's what it all comes down to, isn't it?
he thought. Compatibility. Trying to find a world capable of supporting his race.
But that's not true
, he told himself. It wasn't about finding suitability, it was about annihilation. Because that is what would happen to this world if he and the Defiant failed. Earth would die so his world could be reborn.
He stopped his dark musings. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he opened the photo app on his phone. He looked at several pictures of a large man dressed in sky blue coveralls. The pictures were covert ones, some taken when the subject made deliveries to factories, others were of him walking to the headquarters of Amano Heavy Industries. Another showed him walking out of a restaurant.
Ichihara was about to find out if the man wasn't human.
— — —
Hina Takamachi thought it was perfect timing: one of her favorite songs,
Single Bed
by SharanQ, had finished playing on her iPhone as Ami's house came in sight down the street. She closed her music app and put the earbuds in her purse.
Her best friend's house doubled as a taiyaki restaurant. Hina smiled as the smell of taiyaki wafted around her. One of her favorite snacks, taiyaki had a sweet red bean paste, called anko, stuffed in the middle of fried bread shaped like a fish. The restaurant sat among other shops and residences situated on a side street; families ran most of the local businesses and stores. Some shops were only big enough to house five customers at a time. Small tables, chairs, and benches littered the street to give patrons a place to eat and snack and gossip.
Like an extra Lego block added to a finished toy, Ami's grandparents had tacked the taiyaki shop on to the side of the one-story house. It wasn't much more than a glorified kitchen: the grills and stoves took up one wall, with the rest of the space dedicated to storing the cookware and ingredients. The front of the store had a serving and ordering window, and one could see through the shop and into the house's living room beyond. A door to the left side of the window led into the shop; sometimes friends came into the cooking area and sat on one of the three discarded plastic crates converted into service as chairs, to talk with Ami's grandparents, Junko and Atsushi.
Hina stood at the window and saw Atsushi close the lid of the grill on a fresh batch of taiyaki. "Good afternoon, Atsushi-ojiisan," she said.
The older man turned towards her. "Hina-chan, good afternoon," he said in a cheerful voice. Gray hair poked out in tufts from under his cap, and grease and fillings splotched his white apron. Besides red bean paste, Atsushi filled his taiyaki with other foodstuffs like cheese, chocolate, and assorted flavors.
He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "Ami's in the house."
Hina looked past him; the curtains and sliding glass door were open and she could see the living room. Ami sat on the tatami floor at the room's single table, drawing a picture. Hina went through the small door and stood on the narrow, sagging, wooden ledge to remove her shoes.
Ami looked up from her drawing pad and smiled when she saw Hina. The other girl laughed out loud at her diminutive friend.
"That is a rice sack you're wearing, right? It can't be a real dress," Hina said.
Ami put down her art pencil and tugged at her attire. "My grandmother bought it." After a moment, she added, "For herself, then she gave it to me." She stood, grabbed the tan one-piece garment, and spun around. "Ta-da." She smiled at Hina and they both laughed.
Ami Isobe was her best friend, but Hina couldn't believe how physically different the two of them were. Hina was athletically built and muscular, Ami was short and thin. She had rectangular wire frame glasses that sat on a tiny nose, and elephant ears. Hina's size overshadowed Ami, but she made up for it in brains. She was smart and often ranked at the top of the class. But to Hina, she failed on the subject of fashion.
Fashion, however, was Hina's hobby. Today she wore jeans and a large, pink Earth Magic t-shirt that fell off one shoulder. A bright pink ribbon with the Roni logo tied up her ponytail. She loved the teen fashion magazines like
Nicola
,
Pichi Lemon
, and
Pop Teen
. She told herself that one day her own fashion designs would be featured within their pages.
She sat on the floor and tucked her feet underneath her. "How's art club going?"
Ami continued sketching a fantasy figure with an ornate axe. Hina thought her friend could be a professional manga or light novel cover artist if she wanted to.
Unlike most of her classmates, Hina wasn't in a school club. Hiroshima City Junior High School didn't have a weightlifting club, so she trained five days a week at a gym. Since her club wasn't controlled by the school, she had the weekends free; most of her classmates had club activities every day, weekends and holidays included.
Ami shrugged. "I heard there might not be many members next year. They're saying it will be combined with the science club."
Hina heard the disgust in Ami's voice. She thought the rumor was true; the science club had five members, and if the numbers dwindled any lower, the school would have to do something about it. If the club combined two subjects, she wondered if it would have two teachers or one.
"I hope we get Mrs. Hisano. Mr. Naoka can't even draw a circle," Ami said.
Hina thought about her science teacher and giggled. "I know, right? And when he draws a line, he uses that big protractor, and it always falls down right at the end." She mimed drawing a straight line in the air then having it fall sharply. Ami pointed at her friend, and they laughed.
The door to the living room slid open and Ami's grandmother, Junko, entered. She was short and round, and wore a pastel apron. She tossed her hands in the air and smiled. "Hinaaaa-chan," she said with the same cheerfulness as her husband.
"Good afternoon, Junko-obaasan," Hina said. They bowed to each other.
Ami's grandmother muttered to herself as she bustled back through the living room door, but Hina couldn't make it out. She heard some sounds from the kitchen, and soon Junko returned with two glasses of tea on a serving platter. She set one down in front of Hina, and as she set the other down, Ami jerked her drawing pad away from the cold, perspiring glass.