CHAPTER TWELVE
“And then there were four,” Susan said.
“Hmm,” Isaac replied, not really listening as he leaned forward in his seat.
What exactly just happened? he thought.
He knew the game well enough from the trial version to know what had occurred mechanically. Wong Fei’s forces had swept through Masuda’s home system where they’d blasted everything in sight, including Masuda’s core. After that, Wong Fei had maneuvered his megastructures into orbit around Masuda’s star, claiming the untapped stellar body as his own.
That much was clear.
But why had it happened?
“Seems like your boy’s still in it,” Susan added.
“Did you notice how Masuda froze up at the end?”
“Not really. I was focused on all the exploding spaceships.”
“He hardly put up a fight. He didn’t even try to evacuate his core to another system. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
“Maybe he didn’t see a way out?” Susan suggested, not sounding confident in her reasoning.
Masuda’s pod split open, and he flopped out onto his hands and knees. He crawled across the stage on all fours, picked himself up, then stumbled over the edge when stairs formed too slowly. His knee cracked against the hard floor below the stage, and he winced and rose again.
He limped down one of the aisles, which gaped open and extruded a path down into the understage. Kohlberg hurried after him with a concerned look on his face.
“What’s going on?” Isaac asked.
“I don’t know,” Susan said, “but it doesn’t look good.”
Both of them rose from their seats at the same time and headed after Masuda. They took the same path down into the understage, which opened into a circular space with tunnels leading off in eight directions and a central column supporting the stage. Thick beams hung low off the ceiling, spreading out under the stage in a radial pattern, and hexagonal containers lined the walls, their contents ready to be hauled up onto the stage by automated systems depending on how the venue was to be utilized.
Kohlberg stood near Masuda by one of the exits, which a pair of DTI agents hustled out of, alert but unsure of the nature of the crisis.
“I’m sorry. What happened again?” Kohlberg asked urgently.
“Someone hacked the game!” Masuda cried out.
“Detective Cho, SysPol Themis,” Isaac said, pinging everyone nearby with his badge. “Mister Masuda, are you all right?”
“No, I’m not all right!” he spat, his brow creased with worry. He pointed at the ramp leading up to the stadium. “There was a message in the game!”
“A message?” Isaac asked. “What kind? What did it say?”
“There were bleeding letters in the interface, and they read as ‘leave or die.’”
“But that’s…” Isaac paused and bowed his head in thought.
It was the same message Elly Sako had received. But Lacan couldn’t have delivered it, right? He was locked up in the CFPD, and besides, manipulating a complicated abstraction like Weltall was leagues different from pranking a hotel printer. Furthermore, Masuda had no connection to the dispute between Sako and Lacan, other than being a fellow Admin player participating in the same tournament. At least, no connection they’d come across so far.
What’s going on here? he wondered.
He looked over to Susan, who shook her head as if to say she didn’t have a clue either.
“Blood letters?” Kohlberg scoffed. “That can’t be right.”
“I know what I saw,” Masuda stressed. “Don’t try to tell me otherwise!”
“I—” Kohlberg stopped himself. “Yes, of course. I’m very sorry, Mister Masuda. I didn’t mean to imply you were lying.”
“You two!” Masuda snapped at the DTI agents. “I’m leaving!”
“Back to your room, sir?” asked one of the agents.
“Absolutely not!” he snapped. “Didn’t you hear me? Someone wants me dead! So fuck this tournament and fuck going back to my room! You’re to take me straight to the chronoport, because I’m not leaving it until we’re safely back in the Admin, you hear me?”
“Understood, sir.”
“Now hang on a minute,” Kohlberg urged. “Let’s not be hasty. If what you say is true, perhaps we can make an exception to your loss.”
“If?!”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong, mind you, only that we’ll need to check the software first. As long as we do find tampering, we could invalidate your loss. For instance, we could reinstate you into the competition with a new core, or perhaps restart the entire match. Given the unusual circumstances we find ourselves in, I’m more than willing to entertain—”
“Forget it!”
“But—”
“Save it!” Masuda pointed to the two agents. “We’re leaving!” He turned on his heel without another word and marched down the nearest corridor. The two agents took up positions in his wake.
“Oh dear,” Kohlberg moaned as the trio disappeared around a corner, following an abstract sign to the grav chutes.
“What the hell is going on?” Pérez demanded, hurrying down the ramp to the understage. He strode over to Isaac and the others with fire in his eyes.
“Someone sent Masuda a death threat while within the game,” Isaac recapped. “Same message as before. ‘Leave or die.’ He’s being taken back to the chronoport.”
“Is this true?” Pérez stepped up to Kohlberg by the corridor mouth.
“That’s what Masuda said happened to him,” Kohlberg answered. “I can’t say more until someone looks at the UAM.”
“Damn it!” Pérez growled, slamming a fist into the wall. Isaac assumed his strength limiters were engaged because he didn’t punch through it.
“Miguel?” Susan asked.
“I—” He seemed to collect himself. He lowered his fist and straightened his posture. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like this. I’m just upset that—I’m just upset.” He turned to Isaac. “Detective, looks like this mess is back on your lap.”
“That it is, unfortunately.”
“How should we proceed?”
“First, we need to look at that program. Mister Kohlberg?”
“Yes?”
“I need you to halt the tournament.”
“But—”
“No buts. We need to look at the UAM files loaded into their pods, because that’s the only lead we have right now. Either pause the tournament willingly or we come back with a court order shutting you down. Do we have an understanding?”
“Uhh, no. I mean, yes. Yes, we have an understanding, but—”
Kohlberg stopped at the sound of the two synthoids hurrying down the ramp: a silver-skinned man and a woman with a faceted, ruby-like face. Both wore mauve clothing similar to Kohlberg’s business suit.
“Who are they?” Isaac asked pointedly.
“My superiors,” Kohlberg said, moments before the avatar of a flaming wheel materialized behind the new arrivals. “And one of our lawyers. I’ll need their permission to shut the tournament down. They’ll want to see that court order.”
“Then they’ll have it. Cephalie?”
She appeared on Isaac’s shoulder.
“See to it. Make it clear to the judge we need this expedited.”
“Right away!”
She vanished.
“I’ll, uhh, go break the bad news to them.” Kohlberg donned a forced smile and started up the ramp to join the two synthoids and their abstract lawyer.
Isaac opened a comm window.
“Hey, Isaac,” Nina responded. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t good news?”
“Because it’s not. Meet us beneath the stage. Looks like we have a busy day ahead of us.”
* * *
“What do you have for us?” Isaac asked Nina.
The stadium was empty except for the SysPol officers and their drones while virtual police cordons glowed across each of the exits. Cephalie had returned with a court order granting SysPol Themis the authority to suspend the tournament as part of their investigation, and Kohlberg—after reviewing the documentation with the ActionStream lawyer—canceled the remaining tournament events for the day. The players had all returned to their respective rooms, with Masuda being the only exception.
“Well, Cephalie and I can confirm Masuda’s story.” She propped a leg up on the stage next to Masuda’s pod and leaned over her knee. A pair of her forensics drones floated behind her, giving her an official air despite her baby blue dress. “The pod’s infostructure recorded the message, and it played out like he said with letters written in blood. Same threat as before. ‘Leave or die.’”
“SysGov English?” Susan asked. “Or the Admin version?”
“The Admin’s,” Cephalie said from atop the LENS. “Identical to what came with Sako’s ‘head.’”
“Hmm.” Isaac stepped up to the pod and gazed in. “Anything else?”
“No,” Nina said. “Or, at least, not yet. We collected a save-state off the pod and uploaded it to Panoptes. We’ll have to wait for the analysis.”
“Did you—”
“And,” Nina cut in, “because I know my little brother so well, I already filed a request for it to be expedited. It’s near the top of their job queue.”
“Thanks. That’s what I was about to ask.”
“Can I call it or what?” Nina told Susan.
“But what about Lacan?” Susan asked.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Isaac stepped away from the pod, head bowed in thought. “We have two threats now, the first of which we believe Lacan sent. But now I’m not so sure. Have we arrested an innocent man?”
“The evidence fingered him as the perp,” Nina stated.
“I know, but perhaps we need to dig deeper.” He looked up at Nina. “I’d like you to go over his wearable again. Go over it hard. Look for anything out of place. Anything suspicious.”
“You’ve got it.”
“Do you think we might be dealing with two criminals?” Susan asked. “Lacan with the first and someone copying him for the second?”
“Perhaps. But if so, why? What would this theoretical second criminal gain by mimicking the first message? Not only is Lacan stuck in a cell, but he lacks the experience to alter a SysGov UAM file. If someone’s trying to pin the second death threat on him, they’re going about it all wrong.”
“Or perhaps both messages were sent by the same person,” Susan suggested, “and we arrested Lacan in error.”
“I’m more inclined to believe that scenario,” Isaac said, “as much as I hate to admit we messed up.”
“Either way, I think we need to talk to Masuda next,” Susan suggested. “Perhaps there’s a link between the two incidents. Beyond the obvious fact they’re both Admin players.”
“Agreed. Nina?”
“I know the drill. I’ll finish up here then head back to CFPD to take another look at Lacan’s wearable.”
“Thanks. Let me know as soon as you find something.”
“Will do.”
He joined Susan by the edge of the stage. “Let’s go, then.”
* * *
“Thank you for agreeing to speak with us, Mister Masuda.”
“It’s no problem, Investigator,” Masuda replied, fidgeting as he settled into his chair. “Or should I call you a detective?”
“Either will do, I suppose.”
Masuda sat across from the two detectives in Defender-Prime’s cramped mess hall, which doubled as a conference room when needed.
“I…” Masuda wrung his hands and put on a forced smile. “I’ve calmed down a bit since I got that message. Having a couple thousand tons of military hardware between me and the outside is reassuring.”
“I’m sure it is.” Isaac opened his abstract notes. “We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind. Mostly to look for any connections between this incident and the first. Beyond the obvious, of course.”
“Of course. I’ll help you any way I can.”
“That’s good to hear.” Isaac swiped to a new page. “I’d like to start by going over some of your background. You’re from the Admin’s Earth, correct?”
“That’s right. My whole family is. My dad works in the Department of Blight Restoration, though he’s just a superintendent, unfortunately. Nothing too special.”
Isaac glanced over to Susan. “Where do superintendents fit into the Admin hierarchy?”
“They’re one tier below directors.”
“Ah.”
Nothing special, huh? Isaac thought.
“Why did you say ‘unfortunately’ when you referred to your father’s position?”
“Well, Dad’s been after an under-director slot for years, but there’s a lot of competition for those.” Masuda leaned forward and spoke softly. “Lots of backroom politics. Lots of backstabbing, too. The infighting gets vicious whenever a slot opens. He would have the position on merit alone if it wasn’t for all that needless backroom drama.”
“What about your mother?”
“Department of Public Relations. She’s the one who recommended I compete in the Weltall Tournament, even though I wasn’t too thrilled about this whole transdimensional travel thing. I don’t like to leave Earth if I can avoid it, but now look at me.” He chuckled. “Here I am, getting death threats in another universe. Anyway, Mom worked on the publicity campaign for the Million Handshake Initiative. The Weltall Tournament, specifically. She’s been busy commissioning adverts, running publicity events. That sort of thing. Loves her job. Both of them do, really.”
“And yourself?”
“I know my parents would have liked to see me in the Admin, and I did have my eye on a position in the DBR for a while. Even took classes in self-replicator theory and containment strategy, though I never experienced that spark of enthusiasm I have with games. Looking back, I think I was blindly following Dad’s footsteps until I realized my path led elsewhere.
“I’d be lying if I said my parents were fully supportive. There was some…pushback, at least at the outset. But in the end, they realized—and accepted—that my passions lay elsewhere.” He flashed a self-congratulatory smile. “And, to be honest, they’re quite happy with the money I’m raking in from the tournament circuit. Plus, I think Mom likes having a family member in the tournament. I’ve been featured in a few recent adverts, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Does your family have a long history of service in the Admin?”
“Oh, yes!” His eyes lit up. “It all began with my great-great-great…” He started counting with his fingers, but then stopped and frowned. “You know, I seem to have forgotten how many greats it was. Anyway, it began with my something-great grandfather back in the 2700s. Kentaro Masuda. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”
Isaac glanced over to Susan again.
“He’s…umm?” She shrugged and shook her head. “No, sorry.”
“He served in the Violations War. Even fought in the Battle of Phobos Command. Our family’s been a part of the Admin ever since. It’s one of the reasons Mom and Dad resisted my career choice at first. But it’s not like the line’s at risk of being broken anytime soon. My little brother already accepted a commission in the Peacekeepers, and my little sister is studying chronometrics in the hopes of joining the DTI, though competition for those slots is fierce these days.”
Isaac considered the differences in background between Sako and Masuda. There wasn’t much common ground between the two, besides the fact they were both from the Admin. Sako was the clear outsider with her Lunarian heritage and the moon’s troubled history, while Masuda hailed from a line rich in service to the Admin.
So far, there’s only the one link, he thought. They’re both from the Admin.
“Moving on,” Isaac began, “please describe your relationship with GW Lacan.”
“I wouldn’t call it a relationship, really. We first met in person at Byrgius University during the universal qualifiers, and he didn’t make much of an impression, though that certainly changed!”
“How so?”
“Let me put it this way. We’re here as representatives, whether we like it or not. Our actions reflect upon the Admin as a whole, for better or for worse, but that’s a responsibility Lacan either didn’t realize he had or simply chose to ignore. I’m not sure which is worse. I’m certainly aware of my responsibilities here, and I assure you I take them very seriously.”
“What about Elly Sako?”
“She…” Masuda frowned and hesitated.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry. Is this really necessary? She received a threat, too. Does my opinion of her really matter?”
“It might. It’s impossible to say whether a fact is relevant to the case when it remains unknown.”
“Of course, but…”
“Why the hesitation, Mister Masuda?”
“It’s just…” He sighed. “You know the saying, ‘If you can’t say something nice…’”
“‘Don’t say anything at all,’” Isaac finished. “Of course, I do.”
“That’s why I’d rather not speak ill of her behind her back.”
“Mister Masuda—”
“But, I understand your position.” He huffed out a breath again. “Look, I don’t want to sound like a bigot here, but she makes me uneasy.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, she’s Lunarian.”
“And?”
“And nothing. She’s a Lunarian, and I get nervous around her because of it. Look, I know this sounds bad. I know not every Lunarian is a terrorist. There are good ones and bad ones just like people from every other corner of the system. It’s just Luna has a lot more troublemakers than Earth does. They’re a constant thorn in the Admin’s side, and I’ve heard some insider stories that will churn your stomach. So, because of that, she puts me on edge.” He sat back. “I know her background shouldn’t have that kind of effect on me. I’m just being straight with you here, okay?”
“And I appreciate your honesty, Mister Masuda. Is there anything else about her besides her lineage that makes you uneasy?”
“No. Not really.”
“Not really or not at all?”
“The latter.”
“Very well.” Isaac made a few notes. “What about Wong Fei? What’s your relationship with him?”
“I’ve spoken to him a few times. Same with Grim and Yoo. Didn’t have any problems with any of them, though Wong Fei struck me as the most approachable.”
“Anything of note from your interactions with SysGov citizens, the other players included? Anything unusual or strangely confrontational?”
“Nothing comes to mind, sorry.” He smiled faintly and let out a brief, sad chuckle. “Besides the message in blood, I have nothing but praise for our hosts.”
“What about your thoughts on how Wong Fei took you out of the tournament?”
“He outplayed me, simple as that. I’m man enough to admit when I’ve been beaten. But I’m not sore about it, if that’s what you mean. The good thing about being a professional gamer is there’s always another tournament.”
“What about your security detail?” Isaac asked, grasping for any lead at this point. “Anything out of the ordinary there?”
“No. They’ve been superb. I have nothing but praise for Pérez and his team.”
“I see. Finally, I want to loop back to Lacan. Do you believe he was the one who threatened you and Miss Sako?”
“I can only speak for myself, but no, I don’t see why he would have threatened me like that.” Masuda shrugged. “Or how he could have.”
“Is there anyone you suspect of threatening you?”
“No.” Masuda shook his head. “No idea. Sorry.”
“That’s quite all right, Mister Masuda.” Isaac closed his notes and rose from his seat. “That’ll be all for now. Thank you for your time.”