CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It had been a long road for Elly Sako, and the odds had been stacked against her, but her moment had finally arrived. She’d fought through the qualifiers, clawing her way past all the opposition to become one of only three Admin finalists. She’d endured threats to her life, seen another player rattled by the same, and even been treated like a criminal by that SysPol detective, but finally—finally—it would all be worth it.
She sat in the isolation pod for what would be the last time and watched as the All-Predators she’d seeded across the map swarmed toward Wong Fei’s lonely star system. Her own forces lurked nearby in the void between stars while her scouts sent back a constant stream of data and visuals.
Wave after wave of All-Predators crashed against Wong Fei’s formidable defenses. His focus on a defensive, turtling posture had granted him both a massive economic lead and a stalwart defense, built up as concentric spheres of integrated defensive platforms spread in a sphere 0.01 light-years across. His industry suckled on the star, transforming the raw matter into massive warships equipped with endgame weaponry, even as the All-Predators ate through outer layers of his defenses.
She couldn’t tell which would win, and she needed to be sure. That meant it was time to get her hands dirty.
She permitted herself a cold grin.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She commanded her meager fleet closer to the apocalyptic conflict around Wong Fei’s star. The ships under her command weren’t much—she’d spent far too many resources climbing the tech tree and seeding All-Predators to have constructed a sizable armada—and worse, she’d need to keep her avatar core close to maximize their effectiveness. One wrong move, and either the All-Predators or Wong Fei’s own forces would squash her like a bug.
About the only things she’d invested in outside her primary strategy were the stealth systems on her ships. Wong Fei had yet to show any sign he knew she was so dangerously close, and a surgical strike from her fleet in the right spot at the right time could make all the difference.
It was a risky, almost suicidal move, but that held true for her entire plan, and like the rest of the strategy, she decided to roll with it. So many gamers across so many games and tournaments chose to play it safe. They studied the probabilities of this matchup or that tactic, picking only the options with the highest statistical probability for victory.
Weltall was still in prerelease, but its mechanics had already been scrutinized, both by nonsentient programs on the Admin side and, in all likelihood, full-fledged AIs on the SysGov side. Those efforts had defined a “standard” game of Weltall, if only in theory, and many players flocked to the safety of “what the math says will win me games.”
But those player types expected to encounter similar cultivated approaches from their opponents. Hit them with the unknown, strike at them from a dark corner, force them out of their comfort zone, and even the most experienced players would fall.
That said, she knew not to underestimate Wong Fei. She understood she was the underdog in this matchup, but she also knew the moment called for bold action. She’d spent so much of the tournament slinking around in the void, plotting against the other players like a cloaked assassin. It would have been easy—even comfortable—to stick to the same approach.
But that sort of timidity would not lead her to victory, which was what she wanted more than almost anything else in this moment, and so she edged her fleet closer, as close as she dared, and then watched and waited for the prime moment to strike.
Her scouts pinpointed the location of Wong Fei’s avatar core, deep within the densest thicket of megastructures near the star. A star he’d supped at so greedily it was now half its original mass.
All-Predators swarmed the system by the billions, and every juggernaut they defeated—every megastructure they destroyed—only fed into their voracious, necromantic cycle.
The omnivorous machines breached Wong Fei’s outermost defenses, devouring them, spawning copies of themselves that in turn assaulted the last and final layer outside the star. She could see the cracks in his armor, perhaps not wide enough for her fleet to wedge open, but if she waited long enough…
Yet even now, even in his last desperate stand, he was still adding more factories, and the dual tides of production and destruction started to swing back in his favor. His star was down to a third its original mass, but the All-Predators were nearly exhausted as well. Nearby systems had been stripped bare, the tide of approaching vessels thinning into the millions. Soon, only the All-Predators already in-system would remain.
“Time to end this.”
Sako studied the flow of battle and picked a spot where the All-Predators had thinned, prompting Wong Fei to shift units elsewhere, shoring up more beleaguered points along his perimeter.
“There!”
She brought her fleet up to full power, abandoning all pretenses of stealth, and charged in at full speed, her avatar core shielded by a dense escort of her toughest ships. All-Predators and static defenses tore at her fleet from all angles, but the sudden injection of fresh forces caught both by surprise, and she burst through with most of her fleet intact.
She angled down toward the star, straight toward the cluster of factory megastructures around Wong Fei’s avatar core. She threw her ships forward with reckless abandon, pushing their drive systems to self-damaging levels. A blizzard of missiles and lasers shot up toward her, eating away her forces, but she rushed in, returning fire, her largest and toughest ships on a collision course with her opponent’s core.
Wong Fei’s forces swarmed in from all directions, and the All-Predators swept in behind those. Her tiny fleet was an insignificant speck in the wider, grander battle. But it was in the right place, at the right time!
And that’s all that matters! she told herself viciously.
Her fleet was sealed in, trapped with no hope of escape, but escape was an alien concept to her mind now. All she wanted—all she needed—was to destroy one last construct. One little, tiny target in a violent maelstrom of ships and ordnance and energy and death. She rushed forward, fearlessly, suicidally, unwilling to relent until she’d claimed victory for herself.
The first wave of her ships crashed into the final layer of megastructures, consuming them in violent cataclysms of kinetic energy. Wong Fei’s avatar core lay bare before her. She only had to reach it!
Her last few ships screamed in for one final assault. Just a little bit—
—the game interface faded away, and the view zoomed out, switching to spectator mode.
“But…”
Her own core dispersed into a cloud of expanding plasma. The abstraction faded to black, and match statistics scrolled down her field of vision.
Wong Fei had won.
She stuck her elbow on the side of the pod and rested her cheek on her fist.
“Damn it. So close!”
* * *
The isolation pod opened and Wong Fei climbed out to stand victorious atop the stage. The crowd greeted him with a thunderous ovation.
Whew! he thought to himself. That was close!
He tugged his shirt down, straightening it, and walked over to Elly as she exited from her own pod. She wore a forced smile, and he could see the disappointment behind her eyes. A part of him felt sorry and a little guilty, but they had both agreed beforehand to throw everything they had into the competition, to be honest with each other and to fight at their absolute best.
Any lasting relationship required a foundation of honesty, and perhaps this game had served as their first true test. If so, they’d both passed. They were professionals, after all. It would have been unseemly for one or the other to take a dive just because…
Well…
Wong Fei gave Elly’s hand a firm shake, and Kohlberg guided her off the stage where Pérez took over and escorted her through one of the staff exits leading to the understage. He wasn’t sure why only one bodyguard tailed her today or why the head of the DTI security detail had taken it upon himself to assume the duty. Perhaps they’d received complaints from the Crimson Flower and had decided to tone down the visible portion of her protective detail? If so, were there other agents lurking nearby? Perhaps scattered throughout the crowd in plain clothes?
That didn’t seem to fit with the Admin’s modus operandi, but admittedly he still knew so little about Elly’s people. Even after deciding to…
Well…
Kohlberg returned with the frosted glass trophy in hand, ActionStream’s meteor resting against his chest. He was about to scale the stage when Wong Fei shook his head and waved him off.
“What’s wrong?” Kohlberg asked, his voice coming through crystal clear despite the raucous crowd.
“I’d like to give a speech.”
“That’s not on the schedule. Can it wait?”
“This is important. Please?”
“All right.” Kohlberg frowned and backed away from the stage. “But try to keep the length manageable, okay?”
“I’ll do what I can.”
Wong Fei took his place at the very center of the stage and swept his gaze over the packed stadium.
“Ladies and gentlemen and abstracts!” He spread his arms to the crowd, and the clapping and cheering died down. “I know the award ceremony is supposed to follow right after the match, but there are a few things I’d like to say before we continue. I’ve asked permission to give a little speech, and our hosts have graciously given me permission to do so.
“But before that, I’d like to express my gratitude to our wonderful hosts from ActionStream.” He dipped his head toward Kohlberg. “They’ve run a stellar tournament under what I believe we can all agree have been less than ideal circumstances. Would you please join me in a round of applause for Sven Kohlberg and the rest of the ActionStream team?”
Wong Fei began clapping, and the crowd joined in. Kohlberg shifted the trophy to one arm and waved with the other.
The applause died down, all eyes turning to Wong Fei. He clasped his hands behind his back and took a deep breath before continuing.
“One of the reasons I fought so hard throughout the competition was so I could give this speech.” He flashed a disarming smile. “Of course, I also wanted to win. That comes with being a professional in this line of work. If victory wasn’t important, I wouldn’t last long, now would I? But, beyond claiming victory in this first of what I hope will be a series of joint tournaments, I also wanted to make use of the unique platform victory could grant me.
“And so, we come to the topic I wish to speak to you about. There are a great many subjects worthy of discussion in our societies, but the one I wish to focus on today is relationships.”
Murmurs of surprise—and perhaps confusion—echoed through the stadium.
“That’s right. Relationships. Big ones, small ones, in-between ones. Let’s take a few moments to talk about all of them.” He cleared his throat. “When you think about it, isn’t our society nothing more than a complex, interlocking web of relationships? And, if you extrapolate that further, aren’t our two societies now in a unique relationship of their own?
“I of course speak of the Admin and SysGov. Two very different societies, so used to being alone in their own corners of the multiverse. Comfortably so, one might argue. But now thrust together, each forced to deal with a neighbor they don’t understand. And because of that lack of understanding, one they struggle to trust.
“Trust is the key to all of this, you see. Because no relationship can survive for long in the absence of trust. Without it, doubt worms its way into people’s minds, polluting how they view the actions of others. Worse, trust can’t be given.” He paused and shrugged. “Well, it can, but not meaningfully. Trust—true trust, lasting trust—is built. Built by deeds. Built and maintained by even more deeds, because trust can be powerful and lasting and yet so terrifyingly fragile at the same time.
“So we must build a foundation of trust in order to guide this unique relationship into a prosperous future.” He spread his arms again. “But isn’t that what we’ve been doing here? Yes, this tournament is an unimportant competition for an unimportant game involving a handful of people. But at the same time, it would not have been possible if we didn’t trust each other at least a little. Enough to take the chance and see if that trust could mature into something stronger, more long-lived. And I hold to you that we—despite some bumps along the way—have achieved that goal!”
The crowd cheered, some rising from their seats. Kohlberg began to scale the stage once more, but Wong Fei waved him off urgently, and Kohlberg took a step back with growing disdain on his face.
“Relationships,” he continued, and the crowd died down once more. “Big. And small. It’s a small one I wish to talk about next. Small when compared to the epic scale of transdimensional politics. But at the same time so much larger to me.”
He began to pace back and forth across the stage, talking and walking.
“I think a lot of us reach a point in our lives where we’re no longer surprised by relationships, whether they be with organic youths, the venerable synthetic, or the post-physical abstract. Whether we be organic or synthetic or abstract. Certainly, as someone who transitioned to the synthetic some time ago, I didn’t think a relationship could surprise me.
“But then one did. I met someone about a month ago, and it’s that relationship I wish to speak with you about.” He gave the crowd a cautious smile. “She didn’t know I was going to do this, but I hope she understands everything I’m about to say comes from my heart. I wouldn’t share it so publicly if it wasn’t.
“I met someone, you see. A young woman with a very different background from mine. At a glance, you might think the two of us have almost nothing in common beyond a passion for the same profession. And you’d be right. We haven’t known each other very long, but in that time I’ve grown to trust her. And through that trust, my feelings have blossomed into something more profound.
“The match you just witnessed is yet another reason I trust her. We both promised each other we’d give this competition our all, that we wouldn’t go easy on each other or let our feelings get in the way. This may seem like a small gesture to you, and perhaps it is, but it’s one that builds upon layers of existing trust and respect. Think of it as one event stacked atop many others, all ending the same way. Ending with honesty and respect and mutual trust that pays off. Eventually that trust builds high enough and strong enough that you become willing to take greater risks. A leap of faith, if you will.
“Love is…a strange thing to quantify. You know it when you feel it. You might not know why you feel it, but there it is. However, in this instance, I do know why I feel this way. Despite our vast differences, I’ve met someone who complements me so well, who is almost like the second half I didn’t know I was missing.
“Until I found it.”
Kohlberg began a rambunctious round of clapping, and some of the audience took the cue and joined in. He put his foot up on the stage, but Wong Fei shot a stern look his way and waved him off. Kohlberg held out the trophy, but Wong Fei shook his head and gave him a quick shooing gesture.
“Not yet,” he hissed.
Kohlberg sighed and relented once more.
Wong Fei smoothed the front of his shirt and turned back to the crowd. The errant clapping died down.
“I know it’s bad form to have the runner-up on stage. It’s uncomfortable because all attention is focused on the victor, but I believe this is one case where an exception is warranted. Would you please all put your hands together and welcome Elly Sako back onto the stage!”
Elly peeked her head out through the understage exit, and Wong Fei gestured for her to join him up on the stage. She stepped out, slowly, and made her way tentatively to his side.
“What are you doing?” she hissed through clenched teeth, her face etched with a volatile combination of worry, anxiety, anger, and joy.
“Exactly what my heart tells me I should,” he answered, taking gentle hold of her hands, then projected his next words across the stadium’s shared hearing. “Elly Sako. I was alone, but then I found my soul mate. I came across the woman I wish to spend the rest of my life with.”
He dropped to one knee before her, her hands still held in his.
“You’re doing this now?” she whispered, eyes moistening. “In front of everyone?”
He nodded solemnly to her.
“I thought long and hard about what I should offer you today. Picking the appropriate tradition is…a murky process for the two of us. Would a ring be the right call? Maybe an abstract sigil? In the end, neither struck me as fitting. What then could I offer to you?
“And then I hit upon the perfect choice. Something both of us wanted. Something valuable—not in a material sense—but because of the effort required to earn it. Something that, at least for this moment in time, is absolutely unique.”
He bowed his head and gestured with one arm to the trophy in Kohlberg’s hands.
“I offer you my victory in this tournament, and the symbol of that victory, in exchange for your hand in marriage.”
“You big dummy.” Elly sniffled and wiped at her tears.
Wong Fei looked up into her glistening eyes, his arm still extended to the side. He made a quick “come here” motion with his fingers, and Kohlberg—sensing his moment had finally arrived—mounted the stage and hurried over.
“What is your answer?” Wong Fei asked.
Elly smiled down at him.
“You already know. It’s—”
One spot on the domed ceiling exploded into a thousand glittering shards.
* * *
Susan’s combat frame crashed through the stadium’s ceiling, her boosters firing at full power. She rocketed down toward the stage in an indistinct blur of motion, her variskin struggling to keep up with the screaming descent.
Kohlberg was the first to see her. His mouth opened into a wide O of surprise, and he jerked backward, the trophy slipping out of his fingers. She fired one last burst from her boosters to adjust her course, aiming for the narrow window between Kohlberg and the two players, then cut off her thrust.
The trophy fell lazily through the air, and she grabbed it in the brief moment before she thumped into the stage. The impact quaked the surface. Elly screamed. Wong Fei took her into his arms to shield her, and Kohlberg fell onto his butt before scrambling off the stage on his hands and knees.
Susan crossed the stage in an inelegant bounding roll, the trophy in her hands, even as beads of glass rained gently, harmlessly onto the stage and audience. She stripped the malmetal armor from her torso and arms to form a protective cocoon around the trophy, the layers growing thicker by the second. She rolled to a stop, slammed the cocoon into the stage, and then threw her body on top. She didn’t know how strong the explosive was, but—
The trophy detonated, and the armored cocoon breached with enough force to hurl her high into the air. She crashed next to the smoking crater with another thump, red alarms flaring in her mind’s eye across her chest and left arm. Shrapnel had stripped the grenade launcher from her shoulder and had transformed her torso into a metal porcupine. Another piece had embedded itself in her rail-rifle, and the firing capacitors were faulted and off-line.
If that had hit the crowd…
She struggled to her feet. Pieces of shrapnel had penetrated deep enough to cut into some of her artificial muscles.
“Sven Kohlberg!” she declared, her voice booming over the stadium’s shared hearing. “You are under arrest for…”
She trailed off, because he wasn’t in sight anymore.
* * *
Kohlberg hurried through the understage tunnels, eyes wide as he pushed past confused and worried staff.
What the fuck is going on? his mind raced. Did the trophy explode? It wasn’t supposed to do that! Did he do that? But I was right there when it went off! Someone could have been killed! I could have been killed!
Is that what he wanted? Me and the winner blown to smithereens, and the crowd cut to ribbons by shrapnel?
Oh, this was a bad idea! This was such a bad idea! Why the fuck did I go through with this?
What if they think it was me?
Oh, shit! I need to get out of here!
I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!
He sprinted into the open grav tube and commanded it to take him to Pistil Plaza. He needed to get out of the Crimson Flower. And then, he’d— He’d—
He didn’t know!
He had no fucking plan for this! What the fuck was he supposed to do now?
Gravitons propelled him down through the tube and brought him out onto the wide expanse of Pistil Plaza. He was about to break into a run, but his legs turned to jelly and he stumbled forward onto his knees.
Seven of SysPol’s eyeball drones formed an arch in front of him. An abstract image of Detective Cho appeared between him and the drones.
“Hello, Kohlberg.” The detective flashed a cool smile. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“I can explain!” Kohlberg pleaded. “Really, I can!”
“I’m all ears.”
“You see…” His eyes darted across his surroundings, and then he kicked off the ground. The soles of his shoes squeaked on the polished stone, and he dashed back toward the open grav tube. He’d almost reached it when one of the eyeball drones smacked into his back and bound his limbs in prog-steel.
He teetered forward and cringed at the approaching floor. His face would have smacked against the stones if not for the drone’s care.
“What a fascinating explanation that was,” Cho commented. “I do believe I’d like to hear more of it. Would the local station be an acceptable spot for us to sit down and have a chat?”
Kohlberg hung his head as his entire body fell limp in defeat.
* * *
Emergency strobes winked in Susan’s abstract vision, and guidance lines pulsed toward the stadium exits, leading the audience to safety. Despite the sudden explosion, the SysGov citizens were filing out in a calm and orderly manner. Either they all possessed nerves of steel or—
“Is this part of the show?” someone asked.
“I don’t know, but that explosion was awesome! I felt my spine vibrate!”
Ah, Susan thought. That would explain it. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.
“Was that a bomb?” Wong Fei rose and helped Sako to her feet.
“Could someone please explain what’s going on?!” Sako asked while Wong Fei helped her up.
“Stay down!” Susan commanded, sweeping her gaze left and right. “This isn’t over!” She pointed to the stage’s new crater. “Hunker down in there!”
“But—” Sako began.
“Questions later! Move it!”
Wong Fei nodded. He took Sako’s arm, and together they climbed into the crater and crouched under the ragged lip. Susan stood nearby, rail-rifle raised even if she knew it was busted. She tried commanding her armor to seal the hole in her chest, but the plates stuttered against the shards of shrapnel.
She checked the two understage exits, one on either side of the stage. Both represented low-elevation approaches because of the ramps, which meant an assailant emerging from them wouldn’t have a clean shot at the players unless he scaled the stadium steps or reached the stage itself. That would buy her some time, but without a functioning weapon, her options were limited.
“That you, Susan?” Pérez called out, stepping into view near the base of a ramp, his rifle raised and aimed straight at her.
“Stop right there!” Susan aimed her own rifle at him and placed herself between Pérez and the players. The audience had almost finished filing out, leaving the two players as the only remaining targets.
“Step aside, Susan. I don’t want to shoot you. I only need to finish what I started.”
“You know I won’t do that.”
“No. I suppose not.”
“Pérez?” Sako asked, her head dangerously close to being blown off. “What’s he—”
“Stay down!” Susan shoved her head back into the crater.
“If I have one regret,” Pérez said, pacing up the ramp, weapon raised, “it’s that you had to get wrapped up in this mess.”
“One regret?”
“Maybe a few others.” He tilted his head. “Why haven’t you shot me already?”
“Why haven’t you shot me?” she deflected, unsure if he realized her weapon wouldn’t fire.
“Because I don’t want to kill you, Susan. You’re an innocent in all this. You don’t have to die.”
“Kill me? I’m in my combat frame!” she bluffed. “What chance do you think you have?”
“A good one. You look awfully banged up. That explosion took a lot out of you. More than you’re letting on. A few shots in the right spot, and I bet I could shatter your case.”
“Then why don’t you try?”
Pérez didn’t answer, merely adjusted the grip on his rifle. The two STANDs stood across from each other, weapons aimed, but neither moving nor shooting. No other agents arrived, which troubled Susan.
There should be at least one more agent nearby, she thought. Pérez must have changed the coverage plan.
“I’m sorry about this, Susan,” he said at last.
“It’s a little late for ‘sorry,’ don’t you think?”
“I know you don’t understand what I’m doing. Or how important it is.”
“Then why don’t you make me understand?” Susan asked, playing for time, which was the only move she had left.
“I wanted to. I really did. I almost told you when you first arrived at the Flower, but I knew I couldn’t risk it. That idiot Kohlberg was already a huge liability. I couldn’t afford any more variables.” He lowered the rifle ever so slightly. “In the end, this is a path I needed to walk alone. Even Kohlberg didn’t know the full truth.”
“That path ends here, Miguel. Give it up.”
“No. You stopped the bomb, but you haven’t stopped me. I can still reach those two and finish the job. Maybe you’ll kill me and maybe I’ll kill you, but those two are already dead.”
“Then why haven’t you tried it yet?”
Pérez didn’t say anything. The barrel of his rifle inched down a little more.
“No one has to die today,” Susan said.
“If they don’t die today, others will die tomorrow. Don’t you see? I haven’t lost sight of what it means to be a STAND. I’m doing this because I’m one!”
“You idiot!” she snapped. “We became STANDs to protect the weak! Not butcher them!”
“I’m no butcher.”
“Doesn’t look that way to me!”
“This isn’t slaughter; it’s surgery. A few small, insignificant deaths to prevent a greater tragedy.” He shook his head and raised the rifle, drawing a bead on her once more. “Enough. This is your last chance. Step aside.”
“I will not,” she said with finality.
“Then you leave me no choi—”
A heavy rail-rifle barked from high above, firing through the hole in the stadium’s dome. Noxon’s first shot cracked Pérez’s weapon in half. His second shot shattered the synthoid’s left shoulder, and the third blew the upper half of his head clean off.
Pérez took a blind step, slipped and flopped forward onto the ground. Susan boostered over, landed next to his splayed body, and planted a firm foot on his back.
“You were stalling for time.” He laughed over her virtual hearing. His tongue lolled out over the lower half of his jaw, oily fluid leaking from the base of his skull. “I see now. You would have shot me if your weapon still worked. You weren’t trying to talk me down at all.”
“That’s right,” she said.
“Well played, Susan. Well played.”
“You of all people should know I don’t hesitate when there are innocents behind me and evil in front,” she said with absolute conviction.
“No, I suppose not.” He laughed again and shook the lower half of his head. “But in my defense, I’m new to the whole villainy thing.”