CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next morning, Isaac sat at a small table in the Fertile Ground restaurant attached to the Gentle Rain hotel’s bottom floor. The table was stylized so that its base seemed to grow out of the ground like a thin but gnarled tree, expanding out into an interlocking weave of branches to support the glass tabletop.
The rest of the establishment continued the faux-natural décor with water trickling down stone walls and drones stylized as oversized beetles fluttering over, their glowing abdomens providing soft illumination.
Isaac leaned back in his chair and watched the other patrons, who were a mix of people from both the Admin and SysGov. He didn’t see either of the Admin players, but a few DTI synthoids were hanging out with some of the chronoport’s organic crew. One adventurous SysGov girl with a too-long yellow scarf flowing behind her—perhaps six or seven years old—actually went up to a DTI agent and asked him to pose for a picture. Her mother hurried over and apologized to the agent, who waved the matter aside. And then he actually posed for the girl! He even smiled for it!
Isaac wasn’t sure posing with his sidearm drawn was the best look for the Admin, but matters between the two peoples could have been far, far worse. At least the agent declined—politely but firmly—when the little girl begged to hold his weapon.
His waitress came back with a beetle drone levitating her food tray over her shoulder. The drone dropped off a traditional Lunarian breakfast while the waitress freshened his cup of coffee. The breakfast consisted of steamed dumplings filled with finely minced meats and vegetables, a side dish of yama sauce for dipping, a bowl of barange wedges, and a perspiring glass of barange juice.
Lunarian cuisine had originally developed as something of a counterculture response to the prevalence of printed foodstuffs, which had led Lunarian cooking to utilize a wide selection of genetically engineered produce, designed with convenience in mind. The yama pepper, for instance, grew to contain a thick, spreadable paste, while the barange combined the easy peeling of a banana with flavor and texture similar to an orange.
The anti-printer aspect of Lunarian cuisine had faded in the ensuing centuries, but its unique ingredients and recipes persisted to form a popular niche within the wider realm of SysGov culinary arts.
“You’ve been looking forward to this, haven’t you?” Cephalie took a seat on the edge of the fruit bowl.
“You better believe I have. There isn’t a single ingredient on this plate that came from a printer.” Isaac dipped one of the dumplings in yama sauce and took a bite. The sauce’s sweetly spicy profile mixed perfectly with the savory meats inside.
He finished off the dumpling and spotted Elly Sako’s arrival with a pair of security synthoids close behind. She passed one of the Admin tables and took the time to exchange words with the agents. She signed their virtual notebooks and even gave out a few hugs when the chronoport crew asked her.
Doug Chowder showed up shortly after Sako, now fully in his Neon Caravaggio persona. He stepped around the restaurant with an aloof, uninterested air about him, sniffing at the amateurish décor before joining the SysGov players at their private table up in one of the balconies. His girlfriend Ito Tomoe was also present, but she kept to herself, probably to make it easier for him to stay in character.
Markie Flavor-Sparkle was enjoying his breakfast in the balcony opposite the players. Or at least Isaac assumed so. He couldn’t see the celebrity himself, but the colorful undulating streamers peeking over the edge and the muffled giggles of his female companions painted a clear enough picture.
“It’s nice,” Isaac declared, skewering a second dumpling.
“What’s nice?” Cephalie asked.
“This.” He indicated the restaurant and all its patrons. “Our two peoples hanging out, getting to know each other, and learning that—despite all our differences—we also have tons in common.”
“I guess.”
“You don’t approve?”
“Nah, it’s not that. Just being a realist.” She pointed around the room with her cane. “You wouldn’t see a scene like this in the Admin, that’s for sure. Not with an ‘artificial intelligence’ like me floating around,” she added, using the Admin term for abstract citizens with synthetic origins like her.
“True. But I think we’re looking at real progress here. And the more positive exposure they get to ACs, the more likely they’ll be to overcome their prejudices.”
“Oh, I certainly agree with that. All I’m saying is we’re looking at a small step in the right direction, not a paradigm shift. The people here are outliers in the Admin, not the new norm.”
“Gotta start somewhere.” He forked another dumpling into his mouth and chewed. “Hmm,” he murmured disapprovingly.
“Not enough heat?” Cephalie asked.
“Not quite enough.” Isaac added a dollop of yama paste to the sauce dish and mixed it in, resulting in a reddish slurry.
“You’re going to kill what few taste buds you have left.”
“So you keep telling me.”
“Good morning, Isaac.”
He looked up to see Susan join him at the table. She wore a black dress with long sleeves, a tall collar, and a shield-shaped pin at her throat. Isaac had also forgone his uniform for a black business suit and a scarf crackling with purple lightning.
“Good morning to you, too. Sleep well?”
“I did. And you?”
“Eh.” He waffled one hand back and forth. “Had trouble getting to sleep. Kept thinking about the case last night.”
“Why’s that? We solved it, didn’t we?”
“I know. But I still have this feeling that we missed something.” He bit into a dumpling. “Not sure what, though.”
Cephalie floated up to Susan’s shoulder.
“He’s just like this sometimes,” she whispered into her ear. “Especially with the easy cases.”
“Am not,” he protested.
“We can head over to the CFPD if you want,” Susan offered. “I doubt either of our superiors would be bothered with us being more thorough.”
“Psst!” Cephalie hissed. “Don’t encourage him!”
“Oh hush.” Isaac dunked the half-eaten dumpling in yama sauce and finished it off. “But Cephalie’s right. Sometimes I overthink the simple ones. Sometimes a love triangle gone bad is just what it appears to be. And occasionally the perp really is dumb enough not to scrub his own infosystems.”
“‘Never underestimate the stupidity of the criminal mind,’” Susan quoted.
“Too true. And speaking of which, we received an update from Lotz on the Pablo Evons murder.”
“And?”
“Togashi Saga turned himself in last night and confessed to the whole thing. Sounds like he intends to throw himself at the mercy of the courts. According to him, he confronted Evons in the League restroom and tried to intimidate him into staying away from his wife. The other man refused to back down, and their confrontation turned violent.”
Susan shook her head. “I don’t even know her, but she hardly sounds worth it. A marriage is like any other oath. Why say the words if you had no intention of living by them?”
“Ultimately, we all choose who we build meaningful relationships with.” He let out a long exhale. “Not everyone chooses well.”
“You’ve got that right.”
“That said, this relationship is one worth pursuing.” Isaac tapped his fingers on the table.
“It is?” Susan squeaked, sounding startled.
“What?” He blinked in bewilderment.
“Our relationship?”
“Certainly. It’s important for all our futures that SysGov and the Admin learn how to coexist together.”
“I—” She paused, then seemed to calm down, almost deflating in the process. “Right. SysGov and Admin. Of course.”
“Is something wrong?”
She shook her head, back to her usual self.
“You sure?”
“I must have misheard you at first. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay,” he replied, satisfied. “I won’t, then.”
He checked his abstract clock.
“We still have over an hour,” Susan informed him.
“Yeah, but I figure they might want us to show up early. Either way, plenty of time till we need to go.” He looked up from his food. “You still think Elly Sako will win?”
“Absolutely. You?”
“Wong Fei all the way.”
“Oh really?” She raised a playful eyebrow at him. “Why so confident?”
“My keen detective instincts tell me so.”
“Zhù hào yún.”
Isaac glanced over to her, and this time it was his turn to raise an eyebrow at her flawless use of the SysGov phrase.
“You’re going to need it,” she added with a wry grin.
* * *
The Markie Flavor-Sparkle preshow was already underway when they arrived at Pistil Stadium, situated beneath a clear dome atop Pistil Tower. Bright colors and musical rhythms rioted through the bowl-shaped stadium, and Isaac muted the sensory deluge. The venue had a maximum capacity of over five thousand physical beings, and it was already close to that threshold, even though the preshow had yet to finish. The rising sun shone through the domed bubble canopy, casting long shadows across one side of the bleachers.
They followed the nav arrows to their assigned seats beside the large circular stage and sat down, at which point Isaac dropped his abstract filters.
He immediately regretted the decision. It was as if someone had taken all the colors in existence, swirled them into a ribboned slushy, then unscrewed his skull cap and poured the sludge directly into his brain pan.
“Uhh,” he groaned, and checked his clock to see how long he’d have to endure the spectral onslaught.
“The show’s much more tasteful when he leaves his shirt on,” Susan commented, using a period of relative calm between songs.
“Sure,” he grunted noncommittally.
As if on cue, Markie Flavor-Sparkle grabbed his shirt with both hands and ripped the front open, to the approving screams of his fans. He then threw the tattered garment into the crowd and began to sing “Love Hurts (And I’m a Masochist).”
“Never mind,” Susan sighed.
“It’s his thing.”
“Where’s your sister?”
“Umm, not sure.” Isaac looked around. He ran a search, and an arrow blinked in his abstract vision, denoting Nina’s seat far up the sloped sides of the stadium. She was standing atop her seat and waving at the singer with both arms. “Behind us near the exits.”
“Guess her ticket didn’t come with a seat near ours.”
“Guess so.”
A tall man in a crisp mauve business suit sat down on the edge of the seat next to Isaac, as if he intended to get back up soon. The sides of his head were shaved down to a buzz, while he’d grown the top and back long, pulling it into a braid that tailed halfway down his back. Impossible architecture morphed across his scarf in black and white, apparently inspired by Escher paintings with looping pathways that always led down, stairs that connected to the wrong place on upper levels, and other optical illusions.
“Detective Cho!” The man in the purplish suit extended his hand. “A pleasure to meet you!”
“Hello?” Isaac shook the man’s hand, filtering out the concert once more. “And you are?”
“Sven Kohlberg, ActionStream senior publicist and chief coordinator for the Weltall Tournament. I wanted to stop by and thank you for bringing the ‘you know what’ to a swift conclusion.”
“Just doing our job.”
“For which I’m quite grateful.” He leaned closer. “Trying to promote our latest product while visiting players threaten to kill one another is…less than ideal, shall we say?”
“Certainly.”
“Though, I was surprised when Lacan was arrested. My first guess, after I heard word of the incident, was Wong Fei would be the guilty party.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, I’m sure you’re better informed about this than me, but he’s had run-ins with the law before. You know, the whole incident where he sent severed hands to his rivals.” Kohlberg shook his head. “From the sound of it, the message sent to poor Elly had a similar feel.”
“You’re correct, of course, that we knew about Wong Fei’s history. And yes, the incidents do share some similarities, but we found no evidence linking the two.”
“Oh, I see. I see.” Kohlberg nodded. “That’s reassuring to hear. Perhaps I was jumping to conclusions.” He patted his chest and smiled. “I’m not an experienced detective, after all. Good to hear our side’s star player is in the clear.”
“Mister Kohlberg?” Susan asked, leaning over. “Speaking of star players, who do you think will win?”
“Oh, it’s tough to say. Very tough. Wong Fei’s the favorite, and for good reasons. I know some people say his strategies are boring and predictable, but the difference comes in the execution. Yes, his opponents tend to know what he’ll do, but he performs so consistently and cleanly it really doesn’t matter.
“So yes, Wong Fei is the favorite, but let me share a little tidbit with you. I officiated the universal qualifier in the Admin, and Elly Sako’s performance really caught my eye over there. Much more so than Lacan’s or Masuda’s. Her approach was as unorthodox as it was impressive. If nothing else, I expect she’ll hit the other players with unexpected strategies. Whether they’ll be effective or not”—he shrugged—“who can say?”
“See?” Susan nudged Isaac with her elbow. “Elly has a chance.”
“I never said she didn’t.”
Markie Flavor-Sparkle’s performance of “Love Hurts (And I’m a Masochist)” reached its color-spurting climax, and Kohlberg edged forward in his seat.
“I’ll be up soon. A pleasure speaking with you.”
“Before you go,” Isaac said, “do you have time for a quick question?”
“Oh, of course, Detective. Of course. What can I help you with?”
“I was wondering why the finals were being held on Luna. It seems an unusual choice, since both governments are centered on their respective Earths.”
“Simple. The Admin insisted, and we saw no reason to deny the request.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Politics, I believe. As a form of outreach between Earth and Luna over there. They wanted to elevate Luna’s role throughout the Million Handshake Initiative.”
“Makes sense,” Susan added. “Improving relations between Earth and Luna was a major pillar of the chief executor’s election campaign.”
“Ah,” Isaac said.
Markie’s song ended. He spread his arms, took a knee, and bowed to the audience, sweat dripping off his ripped chest.
A hole opened in a nearby aisle and a pathway extruded out to meet with the stage. Markie Flavor-Sparkle and his dancers filed out, waving at the cheering audience, and the path retracted behind them.
Another hole opened in the center of the stage, and a mirror-finished plinth rose as spotlights swiveled to focus on it. A gleaming trophy of frosted glass sat atop the plinth, stylized as a crashing meteor as big as the average head.
“Why a meteor?” Susan asked.
“It’s the ActionStream logo,” Isaac replied. “Though I’m surprised there’s a physical trophy for the finals.”
“Normally we don’t have one,” Kohlberg added. “But this tournament presented a few…unique challenges, shall we say? Assume for the moment an Admin player won. Any UAM we gave the winner would face compatibility issues over there. Plus, we would be sending them home empty-handed, which seemed lame to me. A physical trophy made the most sense for this event.” He rose from the seat. “Anyway, that’s my cue. Please enjoy the rest of the tournament.”
“Thank you,” Isaac said. “I’m sure we will.”
Stairs formed on the side of the stage. Kohlberg ascended them and walked over to the trophy. He placed a hand beside the trophy and swept his gaze across the crowded stadium.
“Who’s ready for some Weltall?” he asked in a voice that boomed across the room’s shared abstract senses.
The dense crowd cheered its approval.
“All right! Then let’s get to it!”
Five depressions formed on the stage, opening up to reveal spherical isolation pods, though Isaac noticed the distribution of the pods was not equidistant. Instead, an empty patch existed where an imaginary sixth pod would have completed the ring.
A side entrance yawned open, and beams of light focused to illuminate it.
“From the Admin’s Lunar Federation,” Kohlberg announced, “please welcome Elly Sako!”
Sako walked out, clad in Admin blue and silver, though her attire was a far cry from a Peacekeeper uniform. She wore a blue crisscrossed halter top with matching miniskirt connected by silver suspenders, along with blue leggings and silver boots. Abstract angelic wings unfurled behind her back. She raised her arms and waved as the crowd welcomed her warmly.
“And from the Admin’s Earth, put your hands together for Shingo Masuda!”
Masuda stepped out into the open, his unsmiling expression focused and severe. His clothing shared the same Admin colors as Elly’s but possessed a more formal flair, almost but not quite matching a Peacekeeper uniform. A flaming abstract snake spun in a circle behind him, consuming its own tail. He took hold of Elly’s hand, and they raised their arms together, but while Elly smiled broadly, Masuda only nodded to a few individuals in acknowledgement of the crowd. Colorful abstract shapes, animated emojis, and brief messages streamed by overhead, sent from the tournament’s off-site viewers.
“And now, from SysGov’s European Cooperative. Please welcome Gomako Grim!”
An entrance on the far side of the stadium opened, the path ahead formed, and the first SysGov player stepped out, clad in a brilliantly white gown with white gloves and a flowing train that continued forward to curl around her ankles like a cloth serpent.
She raised her hands together, forming two mirrored letter G’s with her fingers.
“Marry me, Gomako!” someone yelled close enough for Isaac to hear over the background applause.
Susan leaned over and spoke into Isaac’s ear.
“Didn’t Doug design her uniform?” she asked.
“So he said. Seems rather plain for him, though.”
“Next, hailing from the state of One Asia, here’s Yoo Ji-hoon!”
The next player stepped into the light, also dressed all in white, though his attire consisted of a long coat open in the front and a pair of baggy pants, showing off his chiseled abs and pectorals. He brushed back his shaggy hair, which transitioned dynamically from his natural black to the same pure white of his clothes.
“And last but certainly not least! Joining us from the L4 Lagrange Republic, here’s Wong Fei!”
Wong Fei’s attire reminded Isaac of Masuda’s uniform but all in white to match his fellow SysGov players. He wore a calm, confident smile as he stepped up beside the other two. Once in position, all the players approached the stage, two from one side, and three from the other. Streamers unfurled from behind the SysGov trio, glowing brighter than the reflective white of their attire and whipping behind them. Abstract energy crackled between the streamers, growing more intense whenever the players closed with one another.
“Okay, now that’s a neat touch,” Isaac commented.
The players each took position next to an isolation pod.
“Format will be a standard configuration, free-for-all deathmatch,” Kohlberg announced. “Each player must seek out and destroy his or her opponents’ avatar cores. Today’s session will conclude either when all but two players have been eliminated or at the end of the timer.”
A three-hour countdown appeared overhead.
“Either way, the second session will start at the same time tomorrow. Game state will be preserved between sessions, and the tournament will continue each day in this manner until only one player’s core remains. Any questions?”
None of the players spoke up.
“Players, are you ready?”
Everyone nodded.
“Then step into your pods!”
The five pods split in half like walnut shells. Each player climbed in, and the pods sealed them inside.
“Everyone, a quick demonstration before we begin!” Kohlberg walked up to Gomako Grim’s pod and banged on the shell. “They can’t hear a thing inside these! So if you see a sneaky tactic, cheer away! You won’t alert the other players!”
Kohlberg hustled off the stage.
All the spotlights switched off, and a vast, abstract expanse of space materialized overhead. The stadium grew quiet. Markers appeared over five star systems, and tiny icons blipped into existence. Each player may have had their perception and commands limited by the speed of light, but the audience’s spectator mode displayed all events simultaneously unless focused on a specific player’s point of view.
Isaac and Susan watched the initial stages of the match unfold.
“A simple enough start,” Susan said after a while. “Everyone’s sending out their scouts, trying to locate the other players.”
“Not everyone,” Isaac noted. “Wong Fei isn’t.”
“Really? Hadn’t noticed. I wonder why.”
“Hmm.” Isaac opened a private view of Wong Fei’s home system over his lap. “He’s placed most of his starting fleet around his sun.”
“To do what?”
“To build something. Can’t really tell what it’ll be, though.”
“Whatever it is, he’s got an industrial head start on the other players, but not a huge one. And he’s giving up a lot of situational awareness. Honestly, I don’t think the tradeoff is worth it. He’ll be in trouble if one of the other players catches him with his pants down.”
“You could be right.” Isaac zoomed out a bit. “And Masuda’s home star isn’t too far from his.”
“Plus, the map is a tight one. Most stars have multiple neighbors within two light-years.”
“They probably did that to speed up the game. It gives the players more resource options and also pits them against each other sooner.”
“How do you think my girl Elly’s doing?”
“Your ‘girl’?” Isaac asked, giving her a sideways glance.
She smiled and shrugged.
“Let me see,” he sighed, then zoomed over to Sako’s starting system to find it almost devoid of activity. “This can’t be right. Her home planet has less than half its starting industry.”
“Would you widen the view, please?”
“Sure.” He pulled back, and icons appeared sprinkled around her star’s Oort cloud. “She’s spreading herself thin. And she’s lifted most of her planetary industry into space, along with her avatar core.”
“Why would she do that?”
“To move them elsewhere, I’d assume. That’s going to slow down her early game, but I’m sure she has something in mind. There are resources between stars, but they’re harder to find and not nearly as plentiful.”
“See how she’s sent out three times the scouts of any other player?” Susan observed. “She’s planning something, all right.”
“Question is what.”
“Masuda, Gomako, and Yoo all seem to have opted for standard openers. Scout their surroundings and build their core industries and fleet.”
“But Masuda’s leaning more heavily into military craft,” Isaac said. “I think he might have spotted Wong Fei, hence why he’s preparing for an offensive.”
“Any sign Wong Fei knows he’s been spotted?”
“Not that I can see. He’s still focused on building his home industry, with a heavy focus on solar megastructures. Though it seems like he’s finally started to scout the neighboring systems.”
“Any scouts heading to Masuda’s system?”
“Umm.” Isaac shifted the private view. “Yes.”
“Then there’s a chance he’ll spot the attack.”
“Could be too late by then, though. Look.” Isaac highlighted the frame of a new megastructure in Masuda’s system.
“Oh, nice!” Susan grinned. “Masuda’s building an interstellar mass driver.”
“And it’s oriented toward Wong Fei’s system.” Isaac grimaced. “I think we can agree he’s been spotted.”
“You worried?” she poked him with her elbow.
Isaac gave her a dismissive look.
“Just asking. It’d be a shame if your boy was taken out this early.”
“First of all, he’s not my ‘boy.’ Second, you realize we could both lose this…” He paused, struggling to find the appropriate word.
“Wager?” Susan suggested.
“No.”
“What should we call it then?”
“I don’t know. A pair of friendly predictions?”
“Fine by me.” She reclined leisurely in her seat. “What happens when I win?”
“If you win.”
Her eyes gleamed. “So, it is a wager?”
“I…” Isaac frowned. “Fine. It’s a wager. Happy now?”
“Only once I win. What’ll be my prize?”
“How about we all go to the beach after this?”
“Weren’t we going to do that anyway?”
“…yes.”
“Then what happens if you win? Do we go somewhere else?”
“No. The beach again.”
“And if we both lose?”
“We still go to the beach.”
“Hmm.” Susan furrowed her brow and crossed her arms. “This is sounding less and less like a wager.”
“Well, you made it clear you want to see a Lunar beach, so there you have it.”
“I think you’ve missed the point.”
“Probably.”
The game unfolded and began to escalate, with light skirmishes occurring on the fringes of each player’s territory. Gomako Grim and Yoo Ji-hoon both began to colonize second star systems, while Elly Sako’s forces spread out in the cold expanse between stars, scrounging for dark planetoids ejected from their orbits.
Meanwhile, Masuda mustered his forces for an invasion of Wong Fei’s star, and even though the elite SysGov player should have spotted the attack by now, he remained almost obsessively focused on expanding his industry. Several massive megastructures began to take form near his star, but Isaac couldn’t tell what they were, since Wong Fei had built thin, reflective shells around each, masking the devices underneath.
“Looks like Wong Fei’s time is running out,” Susan mentioned.
“You might be right.”
* * *
Shingo Masuda wasn’t sure which player he’d zeroed in on, but he appreciated the player’s greedy approach: focus on economy and sprint ahead toward a macro endgame, overwhelming the opposition with a combination of superior tech and greater numbers. Calculated greed could propel a player far in this profession, and Masuda possessed a sense for when to press his luck and when to play it safe. It was one of the reasons he’d made it to the finals.
This was not a play-it-safe moment.
He’d studied the default starting position density before the match and calculated the odds of his home system spawning close to another player. Those odds were in favor of at least one other player being dangerously close.
Which was why he’d chosen an aggressive opener rather than a greedy one. Sure, it might put him behind later in terms of macroeconomics, but it also gave him more options in the early game, and some well-placed attacks could take out another player before he or she surpassed his temporary force advantage. That would leave him with two home systems rich in resources and one less foe to deal with later. Not a bad achievement for this early in the match.
Fortunately for him, he’d spotted his victim, who’d gone for an extra greedy opener heavy in solar megastructures. But all those massive orbiting satellites occluded the star’s light, painting a giant bullseye on the system, and Masuda happened to be close enough to capitalize on his opponent’s misfortune. He wasn’t sure which megastructures the other player had constructed because of the thin, reflective shells masking them. There were a lot of options within Weltall’s tech tree, but judging by the player’s other actions, he guessed they were for star lifting, meant to accelerate his or her early game advantage by converting the star matter into resources.
Masuda’s scouts would soon report back with a detailed breakdown of the other player’s system and might even spot the enemy avatar core. Either way, their battle would be over before it started since his interstellar superweapon would soon be primed and ready to fire. It would only take a few shots to decimate all those expensive megastructures, and then his fleet could swoop in and mop up whatever scattered forces remained.
Not a bad way to start the match. Not bad at all.
Events sped along at 2,102,400 seconds per second, equating to one simulated year every fifteen seconds of in-game time. He tweaked the parameters and build queues on some of his factories while he waited for the scouts’ reports, then he started a few research projects to push him deeper into the tech tree.
The report came back a few minutes later, and he grinned wolfishly. It contained exactly the information he needed.
He loaded the coordinates into the superweapon and engaged its firing program. He couldn’t see what he was shooting at in real time but was instead firing on projected positions of the planets and megastructures. This was one of the things he liked about Weltall. The developers had used the real-world limits of light to create the classic “fog of war” feel for their strategy game.
Still, even though he couldn’t see the planets, orbits were predictable, and the time it took each kinetic projectile from the superweapon to reach them was also predictable, along with any curvature caused by nearby gravitation. The mathematics took place automatically within the game’s interface; all he had to do was call the shots. His superweapon finished its salvo, and then Masuda ordered half his fleet to cross the interstellar gap between their two systems.
A part of him hoped Sako wasn’t in the neighboring system. It would be a shame if he took out the only other Admin player, especially after Lacan had humiliated all of them by getting arrested because, as Sako had put it, “His dick was sad.” But Masuda was also a professional, and he intended to give this competition his all regardless of who he faced. He hoped the first casualty was a SysGov player, but a win was a win.
He opened a chart that summarized the progress of his attack, and then watched the salvo timer reach zero.
That was it. His mass driver attack had struck. He couldn’t see the evidence yet, but his kinetic weapons had surely decimated his opponent’s home system. He started a second, identical timer, counting down the time for when he’d be able to observe the first evidence of his attack.
And then he waited some more, eager to see all those gutted megastructures as he fleet moved closer.
But something else happened shortly before his second timer finished.
First, a report came back identifying Wong Fei’s avatar core among the megastructures. The tough, triangular craft could take a surprising amount of damage for its size, giving it potential applications in early game rush tactics, but tough though it was, it couldn’t withstand the output of his mass driver!
Masuda chuckled at this. He was about to take out the tournament’s favorite in his opening engagement!
But then the occlusion pattern around the star changed, indicating Wong Fei was relocating those mysterious megastructures. Masuda frowned at this; that would leave more work for his fleet, and probably more losses in the mop-up, but he’d still win, just not as decisively as he’d hoped.
He was tempted to adjust the orders to his fleet, but they’d be in Wong Fei’s system by the time those orders arrived, and so he held back and waited some more—
—until Wong Fei’s home star began to move.
“What?” he blurted, sitting up in his isolation pod.
The star accelerated to the side, and its gravity well dragged all the planets with it, altering their projected positions.
Masuda checked the superweapon’s firing calculations.
“No!” he exclaimed.
All of his kinetic shots had missed. Wong Fei had dodged a near light-speed barrage at interstellar distances by moving his star!
More information came back, and now he could see the exposed megastructures were stellar engines! Lots of them! The star’s path shifted, no longer to the side, but now accelerating directly toward Masuda’s system.
His attack had failed, and now Wong Fei was coming toward him!
“I’m not out of this yet!” He queued up even more kinetic attacks.
His attacks sped across space, and this time he hit some of the planets, but Wong Fei had clustered not just the stellar engines, but all his megastructures behind his star! He was using his own star as a shield! It was almost like he’d converted his starting system into a mobile fortress!
Masuda’s fleet reached the approaching star, and dire reports came back as his losses piled up.
“Not as greedy as I thought,” he hissed.
He switched his entire industrial base over to the production of more ships, and even began cannibalizing the superweapon for materials. He needed every asset under his command switched to a war footing if he were to survive this, because he wasn’t up against another player’s fleet, with all the sloppy, long-distance control delay that entailed.
No, Wong Fei was bringing the heart of his industrial might with him for this attack! His star closed in, shrinking as the stellar engines converted its mass into thrust. Then, one by one, Wong Fei’s fleet latched onto the megastructures and began decelerating them.
But the shrunken star continued to barrel forward.
“Oh no!”
Wong Fei’s star shot through Masuda’s system. It didn’t even need to hit anything; its gravitation force alone distorted the orbits of planets, flinging some into deep space while sending others along scorching paths too close to his own star. All those resources that he desperately needed! Gone! Or, at best, temporarily out of reach! He needed every scrap he could muster, and this was not helping!
Wong Fei’s fleet charged in, forming a protective shell ahead of his megastructures, and Masuda rallied his forces for what he feared would be his final showdown.
He tensed for the inevitable, fingers dancing across his controls.
But then the interface locked up suddenly and without warning, jittering between two frozen animation frames, and a reddish blot appeared before him. The blot expanded to either side, and viscous lines dripped from the stain. Its liquid flowed unnaturally, as if filling unseen containers with its murk.
And then those containers took form.
Or rather, their letters did.
The message before him read: LEAVE OR DIE.
It looked like blood.
He took a few heavy, unsteady breaths, unsure what to do next.
And then the words burst at him. Abstract blood gushed into his isolation pod, splashing all over him and flooding the interior. It wasn’t real, couldn’t be real. He felt no physical pressure from the stream of crimson, but he heard and saw it.
He signaled the pod to open, but nothing happened. He signaled it again, but his PIN couldn’t locate the connection anymore.
“Help!” he cried, banging on the pod door. “Someone, get me out of here!”
No one answered. He could hear nothing outside the pod, and nothing could hear him.
The virtual fluid rose past his head. Blood stained his vision, and his breath quickened.
“Help! I can’t see! Someone help me!”
He fumbled against the pod’s arched interior with his hands, blinded by the grotesque visual data. His fingers clawed across a ridge near the top, and he remembered.
The manual release! They were shown how to use it during orientation!
He wrapped his fingers around the handle and pulled on it with all his might.