I tried to force them into silence mentally, but I failed. I used to turn inward in the quiet moments of my life and meditate. There was no quiet in my core anymore, only this loud mass of souls desperate for their final end. I was supposed to bring that. Because when you’re just shy of eighteen and trying to topple an empire you can’t expect that to be enough for people. You need to add some extra credit work in there for good measure.
I drew a deep breath and spoke. No one could hear me. I tried again, this time forcing all my strength of will behind my voice. I felt like a child with these people – for more reasons than just that I was the child of one of them.
“You promised to come when I called. You promised to help me topple the Matsumotos. I’m asking you to help me in just a few minutes,” I tried to yell above the cacophony.
Dalinoro made calming gestures with his hands and the shouting faded low enough for me to hear his raised voice.
“You will release us to aid you?”
“For now. Some of you,” I agreed.
“Which ones?” Zeta asked,scowling. I knew she wanted one to be her.
“Whoever has experience running a starship. Engineers. Pilots. Navigators. Technicians. Anyone else who has served on one. And maybe a few others to lend aid in the capture of the ship we are headed towards.” I fingered the broken spearhead in my hand. It was a talisman of my authority.
“You have no experience controlling us in our shadow forms,” Yokiro said, “You will not be able to control our movements with the precision you will need.”
I could do that? Maybe I should have let them give me their lecture before leaving the planet.
“I’ll have to rely on your good will and understanding then,” I said, groaning internally as I said it. The Javierians were low on both.
“Freedom to go as we like?” Caradand asked, a little too eagerly.
“Not as you like. As I direct,” I said, a little more forcefully. “And remember how you said you would make me suffer if I didn’t agree to your little pact? Well, that must go both ways. I can make you suffer, too. Besides, it will be your first chance to work towards a real revenge against the people who did this to you.” Carrot and stick. I was turning their own strategies back on them.
They shared agitated looks. They liked to be the ones doing the telling.
“So people with ship experience then,” Zeta agreed, “and a few more to aid them.” The look she exchanged with the others was enough to make me groan inside a second time. I knew just who would be volunteering themselves to assist. “You’ll need our expertise and advice. We will be there to shepherd you through this battle.” She raised her head high, looking down her nose at me and her expression was far too smug.
I barely prevented the sigh, but I nodded.
“I will be grateful for your help in this. If I pass the details of my plan on to the Elders, will you be able to select the appropriate people to fill each roll and to direct them as needed?” I asked.
Yokiro nodded to Elizander. He frowned repressively at Yokiro and then faced me.
“Timing will be tight, I assume? We’ll need to explain to you how you can communicate with us when we are outside. Otherwise coordination will suffer.”
The angry looks on Dalinoro and Yokiro’s faces told me they didn’t want him sharing these secrets with someone they saw as both an ally and enemy. Would every single thing with them be a struggle?
“Yes,” I agreed, “That will be helpful.”
“I will explain,” Elizander said.
“And she will need someone beside her to remind her all along the way,” Zeta said triumphantly.
“Impossible,” I argued. “I will be in full sight of the ship’s crew at all times and we cannot afford detection.”
Zeta eyed me up and down.
“Good thing we are roughly the same size, then. I’ll fit perfectly in your shadow.”
I’d already lost before I even began to protest.
By the time they were finished lecturing, and choosing who would go with me (surprise, surprise, all the Elders were coming) our rendezvous with the Cardinal’s Blood was five minutes away.
I resurfaced like a drowning victim grasped from the waters.
“Will they help?” Driscoll asked from the helm, before I’d caught my breath.
“Yes,” I said, glancing at Roman. He was glaring balefully at Driscoll. Those two were like propane and open flame. “They will do their part, as we discussed. If we all play our parts exactly as planned, we’ll get through this without anyone getting hurt.”
No plan survives contact with the enemy, Roman reminded me. His brow had a deep furrow in it from worry that I didn’t remember being there.
The enemy?
Like it or not, that’s who they are now. They might have been your military before, but they aren’t now. You and Driscoll’s Own were already traitors – some of you condemned and some undercover, but traitors nonetheless. I was forced into the marines and sent here as a punishment. We’re their enemies and they know it. It’s time you started thinking of them that way, too.
He was right, as unsettling as it was.
“Maneuvering to small craft bay,” Kitsano said out loud as Driscoll’s hands made steady, concentrated motions.
“Everyone remembers their role?” I asked, hearing assents from the cockpit and the hold behind us.
“Docking in five...” Kitsano began the count down.
“Then let’s knuckle down and get to it,” I said, to murmurs of agreement. It wasn’t the most inspiring thing a leader’s ever said before a potential battle, but at least there was no talk of freedom or truth or justice. Those things were further away than the original solar system.
Chapter Three
“Four, three, two, and...docking,” Kitsano chanted. Her words were followed by a light bump of the landing gear settling into the docking bay.
The view from all the portholes and screens was of a brightly lit small craft bay. Tools and emergency devices were arrayed in brackets on the walls. Two other shuttles rested in docking collars and maintenance staff in the brightly colored armbands manned consoles and fail-safes in enclosed pods.
In the past when I had boarded starships the ship’s company were usually turned out and lined up at parade rest. Recently there had been shackles, jumpsuits, or cryosleep pods instead. This time felt radically different than either of those. This time I was arriving not as a visiting dignitary or as prisoner, but as an invasion force.
We unclipped our harnesses and lined up at the shuttle hatch waiting to be cleared to exit. Roman was in the lead, of course. As the leader of the surviving marines it was him they’d be expecting to see. Even if that wasn’t the case, he was back to taking his job as my guardian with deadly seriousness.
Stay behind me. I don’t care how many shadows you pulverized, these are real people, and I won’t risk the chance that your Tactical Interface might not work with them, Roman ordered.
I ignored his gnawing anxiety, chalking it up to the usual for bodyguards.
“Ready?” I asked, one more time. After all, someone had to say it.
It worried me that everyone except Roman looked to Driscoll for confirmation. He nodded his agreement.
“I feel naked going in there without weapons,” Ch’ng said.
“No one dies today,” I reminded him. “We’re responsible for these lives now. They are fellow citizens and I want to handle this without violence.”
“I don’t see how there’s any ‘we’ about it. I’ll make my decisions and they’ll make theirs and if that means shots exchanged then so be it,” Ch’ng said.
“Hold up,” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder when he tried to look away. “I want us to be clear. We’re boarding this starship. That’s our action. If anything happens and innocent lives are lost, that’s on us for initiating this. We’re responsible for these lives because we took the first action.”
“Well...” Ch’ng said.
“Well, how far back do you want to go with that? Because they are responsible for sending everyone to Baldric, and for splitting the planet. And we were the ones who committed the crimes that we were sentenced for. And they created the conditions that forced us into those crimes. How far back do you want to go with all that responsibility talk? It goes on forever, until you go into parents and parents of parents.”
I compressed my lips with disapproval. “It’s time someone took responsibility, and that someone is me.”
“As long as you don’t get us killed with that attitude is all I’m saying.”
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my temper.
“Could we please start by trying it my way?” I asked.
He looked to Driscoll a second time and I barely suppressed a frown. It was worse now that I knew he was my father. Driscoll nodded and his sworn followers stood a little bit straighter. Irritation swelled within me. This was my plan, my secret weapon, and it had been me who had brought us this far. If I hadn’t stepped up on Baldric then we’d all be shadows or decorative fungi. How quickly they forget.
Tell me about it. I saved Brady’s life last month. They were my fire team. Now they follow their terrorist leader.
It was nice to have Roman back. Our eyes met for a moment across the distance and the matching fire in his gave me strength.
“We’ll do it her way,” Driscoll said, and then pointed to the green lights on the hatch indicating atmosphere on the other side. “Time to move out.”
Since I didn’t get to kill Ian, maybe you’ll let me kill Driscoll, Roman suggested.
I felt a sudden pang at the mention of Ian’s name like I always did. Roman ignored it. I might feel bad that Ian had developed moral courage just in time to die, but Roman felt nothing but resentment towards him.
I’ll consider it.
Roman pushed the hatch open and stepped through. Driscoll and Kitsano were next, followed by Ch’ng and I. Brady, Nakamuri and Yamamoto brought up the rear. It made it look like they were guarding us, exactly as they should be if our story was true. The marines had sidearms, because they were expected to have them, but all other weapons were left in the shuttle. The only exception was the short spearhead that I was still holding from my battle with Zeta.
The artificial lighting of the boat bay felt strange after spending so much time under the open Baldric sky. The lighting was made to imitate the light of New Greenland and it felt too yellow after the blaze white of the Baldric sun.
Maintenance crews worked steadily around the other shuttles in the bay with the practiced motions of familiar routine. Unlike our battle-scarred one, the other shuttles gleamed with a sleek ferocity.
Arrayed before our shuttle were the ship’s officers and a squad of marines. They seemed awfully eager to meet a group of rescued ‘colonists.’ I flinched when I saw the officer I remembered from Roman’s memories at the head of the squad. He looked different when he wasn’t administering a harsh whipping. I felt Roman stiffen though the channel.
I see a friend of yours is here, I said.
You know about him?
I saw him torture you.
Roman’s emotions were so murky that they were unreadable. Clearly he had mixed feelings about his former commanding officer. Or maybe about the fact that I saw him being tortured.
That really was you all along in my mind, wasn’t it? How could that even be possible? The implants don’t connect that far.
I’ve thought about that. You might not like the answer. When we get time alone I’ll explain what I can.
When we get time alone I’ll want more than explanations.
For some reason my heart was racing more than the adrenaline-inducing situation in front of me called for.
Roman came to attention in front of the officers, and so did his fireteam and Kitsano. In the poor light of the shuttle bay she looked solid enough that hopefully no one would notice her condition before it was too late.
Driscoll, Ch’ng and I remained as we were. The thought occurred to me that it wasn’t just because we were civilians. For widely varied reasons, the three of us saluted no one.
“Permission to come aboard?” Roman asked the captain.
“Permission granted,” the captain replied, returning his salute. He wore a fleet uniform rather than a skinsuit and it had too few ribbons on the chest to make him very important. I remembered from the communications that his name was ‘Sato.’
It’s time to release us, Zeta prompted me internally. Don’t worry, there are enough shadows even in this bright light for us to slip through the bay undetected.
Roman turned to the marine major. “Permission to report, sir?”
“Report.” The major’s mouth was set in a grim line.
I was starting to feel nervous about our negotiations with these people. I carefully released some of my mental hold on the shadows, feeling a tiny tug as each of them slipped away from my grasp. Zeta claimed that I could gather them back at any time, but I was a little concerned that she wasn’t being fully honest with me. Ours was, at best, a mutually beneficial alliance but I knew that the minute they felt they could escape my control they would. Two extra shadows tumbled free before I could secure my hold again. I frowned in irritation. I had no practice with this, but it was vital to our plans that it work.
“As per our orders,” Roman was saying, “we have located and acquired the senders of the distress signal to the Cardinal’s Blood. Unfortunately those present here represent not only the ones who called us, but also the only survivors of a mass aboriginal attack, resulting in the deaths of all other colonists and marines.”
The ship’s officers were trained enough not to show their shock, but a tiny stiffening of their posture betrayed them. I guess no one had warned them that Baldric had a tendency to do that. Fair enough. No one had warned me.
Get to your assigned duty stations and wait for the command, I ordered the shadows. Hopefully they could find their way to the vital areas of the ship while we negotiated. If negotiations turned badly they were our insurance that no one destroyed something vital onboard. I was hoping for a peaceful resolution, but I hadn’t come this far relying on the good will of others.
On our way, Dalinoro replied, practically vibrating within our channel with his delight at being free of my brain.
I could hear them all chattering away inside my head, as if I had suddenly been possessed by a legion of demons. I wondered if demons would have been more comfortable. After all, they at least might have a common purpose. The Javerians, on the other hand, quarrelled worse than siblings. Sharing an infinite subconciousness together hadn’t brought out their best qualities.
“This is all of the colonists, then?” Captain Sato asked, with a furrowed brow.
“Yes, sir,” Roman agreed.
I started up my Tactical Interface. I wasn’t planning to fight, but at least it had the capability of managing a communications net. Maybe it could do something with the shadows. I nearly sighed in relief when the program started to display the names and conversation on the sidebar of my vision, somehow muffling the scrambled thoughts so I could think straight again. Color coded text spilled onto the sidebar. I could review it if I wanted to, but fortunately I didn’t have to. I designated the Elders to a priority channel. If there was something important to hear it would be one of them saying it.
“And your squad?” the captain asked.
“We lost all except those present,” Roman said, his face staining red.
My heart ached for him. No one could have prevented what happened to his marines. Marines far higher ranked and with better resources had failed on Baldric. It was only my battle with Zeta -or possibly the shadow’s choice, if you believed their side of the story- that had spared any of us.
No guilt, Roman. This wasn’t your fault.
I felt a snort through the channel. This coming from the reigning Guilt Queen. Isn’t it your guilt that’s brought us ab
oard?
An unwarranted exaggeration.
I needed to shut up and focus, but nerves had me chattering like a squirrel. The shadows progress was not as quick as I had hoped. They needed to be in place, protecting the vital parts of the ship from emergency shut-down or self-destruction before we announced our intentions to the crew.
Tell them to hurry it up, I ordered Zeta.
Calm down, they’re going as fast as they can. These things take time, which you’d know if you were a real leader and not just propped up by the software in your head.
Thanks, mom.
“All?” the marine officer asked. His lip curled slightly and I felt a flinch of fear in Roman’s thoughts. There’s nothing like being beaten to really sear the hate of someone onto your mind.
“Yes, sir,” Roman said.
“And who is this?” he asked, pointing to Kitsano, but fortunately not looking too closely at her. I could barely see her left foot.
“Lieutenant Kitsano, Imperial Marines,” she said, saluting.
“Another washout.”
Kitsano flinched.
“And the colonists? The usual group of murderers and scum, I expect?” He asked, glancing at us under his heavy brows. He left the line of officers and sauntered over to us, as if to say that he would sort out the mess himself. “Is that Patrick Driscoll? The terrorist? You didn’t think that maybe you should leave him down there?”
“I was following orders, sir.” Roman’s voice was wooden.
In the channel Roman added, Not that I would have left anyone on the surface. Even Driscoll.
Was your entire time in the marines like this?
Like what?
Beatings, incompetent superiors, impossible missions, and barely being able to hold on to your humanity?
Hoo-rah.
My heart hurt for him. Roman would have found that moral ambiguity particularly demoralizing.
“And who is this?” The marine major took a step towards me and lifted my chin with a finger. It was obviously meant as a power move to make me feel small. Those kind of games don’t work on me, though. Especially right now when I command an army of shadows who could shoot green fungus out of his chin if I asked them to.
The Matsumoto (The Matsumoto Trilogy Book 3) Page 2