“What did you hear in my mind…the first time?” he asked awkwardly.
“Something about death and murderers. Not surprising, considering the company you keep,” I glanced at him and he looked at me with surprise and hurt on his face. The surprise I understood. He probably didn’t want me to know that he felt the same way about me that everyone else did, but the hurt was puzzling. Shouldn’t I be the one to feel hurt?
I ignored him and accessed the files. There wasn’t much here. The first page was a picture of Denise with her vital statistics: height, weight, education, communications pathways, etc.
I already knew all of this, but I paused on this page, looking at Denise’s picture. I felt bad about her. From what Nigel said, Denise was probably dead. She may have already been dead when I tried to call her after Edward’s death. First Edward, now Denise, soon me. Did I even want to be alive in a world where everyone I cared about was dying one by one?
I stole a glance beside me to Roman. He was peering at Denise’s information like he was memorizing it. It surprised me that he fit on the bench with me. Roman seemed to loom when he was talking, but in real life he was still sixteen and despite his training he still carried the slimness of youth. I felt bad for him, stuck in this situation with me, but I tried to suppress that feeling. I didn’t have time for that right now. We had to focus on Denise.
“That’s my cousin, Denise,” I said.
He gave me a strange look and asked, “Are you friends?”
“I guess,” I said. “We’re the same age. We’ve always gone to the same family events, and the same classes. We’re cousins.”
He nodded, but he seemed reluctant, like he was still trying to figure something out.
“And she’s the one who is missing, the one we’re looking for. Wasn’t she the one partnered with Jack when we ran the simulation together?”
I nodded, flicking to the next document. It was Denise Matsumotos’ original mission directives. She and her guardian, Adrianna, were to travel to Capricornia and remain there until they discovered whatever anomaly was causing the collective nervousness our contacts were feeling. It seemed pretty basic. A letter from the Overseer of Capricornia was included, welcoming her and reminding her of the diplomatic protocols all guests must agree to. The list seemed long and vague. I had a sinking feeling that they would expect the same from me. With only two weeks, including travel time, I did not have time for diplomatic protocols.
“Why do you think your government was so worried about this one little planet?” Roman asked. “Blackwatch is huge. It has seven planets in the Empire. How could one little planet challenge an Empire?”
I shrugged, “I don’t know, it could be any number of ways. The bigger an Empire is, the harder it is to keep it safe. We are at the mercy of any idiot with a bio-bomb or any psycho who got a discount rate on a starship.
“If someone lets off a bio-bomb on one of our planets it could cripple our economy in all seven. A lone starship, piloted wrong, could crash into a planet, destroying a huge part of the population and stalling trade to all the other planets. We’re big and because of that we’re fragile. The larger and more interconnected we get the more fragile we are. Any tragedy in our Empire could result in a complete meltdown on all seven planets. It’s my job to prevent that, and it was Denise’s job, too.”
“But you’re both only sixteen! Your Empire is guarded by teenagers.”
“Would you quit harping on age,” I demanded, “I’m a Matsumoto. It’s who I am that matters, not how old I am.”
He just shook his head. I waited for a moment to see if there would be any other objections. I had not missed the “your Empire” comment. If Roman didn’t feel like he was a part of Blackwatch, then that could be a serious problem. I knew he wasn’t born in the Empire, but I had expected more loyalty than that.
“How old are you?” I demanded, trying to balance the scales.
“Seventeen,” he allowed, bitterly.
I gave him a long look. “Doesn’t sound too different than sixteen, and yet somehow they’ve let you off your mom’s apron strings.”
He didn’t say anything, just scowled in my direction. I decided to keep reading. Denise had made only one report. It was a basic report stating that they had made a safe planetfall to Capricornia and were beginning the required diplomatic protocols. From what I could tell they sounded like a series of parties.
The next report was from the ship she arrived on. Denise had been required to report in with the ship every 24 hours. After she missed two reports, they sent a beacon to Blackwatch and reported the absence of both Denise and her guardian, Adrianna. Inquiries with planetary authorities had yielded nothing.
The next statement was from a group of diplomats sent to follow up on Denise’s disappearance. Again the planetary authorities had been cooperative, but their lack of concern worried the diplomats. They felt further investigation was in order and sent home for help after just four days of investigation. They claimed that by this point all evidence was so contaminated by the locals that they could be hiding anything.
Apparently Nigel agreed. A team of Special Forces were sent next with orders that could be summarized as “leave no stone unturned”. What they wrote was extensive, but skimming it yielded the following: they had tried everything. They’d interviewed every witness. They’d checked and double checked every item Denise had ever touched, every communication she had sent, every person she had ever spoken with and every credit she ever spent while on planet. The results were nil, nada, nothing. They had gone home.
Why the marines were sent was anyone’s guess. I figured they were serving dual duty as last-ditch-search-party and scouts in case this really did escalate into war. They were allowed planetside, but their stay was brief. They were unable to uncover anything the Special Forces had missed.
One thing everyone agreed on was the timeline of where Denise had gone and what she had done while she was on Capricornia. I decided to start there. Tracing her steps seemed like the most likely way to see results, and since we were expected to meet the Overseer immediately after planetfall, I could start right where Denise did.
I sighed and stretched, working the kinks out of my neck and saw Roman doing the same.
“Well?” he asked.
“Well, we start where she started, retrace her steps, and hope we see something they didn’t.”
He looked at me skeptically but didn’t comment. I was grateful for that small courtesy. If I was going to be honest, I had no idea where to go or what to do. What could I do that would be better than what they had already done?
When 20:00 arrived our escort came to bring us to dinner at the Captain’s table. Captain Travers, Lieutenant Dale, and the two of us were the only ones in the tiny wardroom, and the meal passed very slowly.
The ships officers were awkward and desperate to please. Roman and I were so wrapped up in our own thoughts that we probably would have been quiet dinner companions anyways. When you added that to our companions’ awkwardness it only made things worse.
Thankfully, the Captain didn’t offer to eat breakfast with us, simply promising to have all meals sent to our quarters. His excuse was that he had too much to do running the ship to take time for dinner every evening. Glad to be left alone, I thanked him sincerely for the honor and promised him that eating in our quarters would not be a problem for Roman and me.
After dinner we headed to bed and within moments the stress of the day and the worry of the night before left me fast asleep.
THE EX-PACIFIST: 16
I WOKE EARLY THE NEXT morning, struggled into sweats and found the ship’s gym, happy for a chance to get some exercise in the otherwise cramped space. I started a normal routine and was surprised when I was joined by Roman.
“You should tell me when you are leaving our quarters. I can’t guard you if you aren’t there.”
“What do you expect to happen on a Blackwatch ship?”
“I don’t know,” he aske
d smugly, “What happened to your cousin Denise on Capricornia? What happened to you the last time you were out on an excursion with your guardian?”
I shot him a baleful glare, and just kept exercising.
“Fine,” I said, trying to be reasonable only after the silence became painfully awkward, “I’ll let you know.”
He nodded, like I had finally come to my senses and began his own routine. I watched him from the corner of my eye. Some of the moves he was practicing looked deadly. I guessed maybe work out routines were very different when you were a trained killer. It seemed weird to be working out in our situation, but even prisons had gyms, right?
“We should practice while we work out,” I said, moving to a treadmill.
“Practice what?” He asked, punctuating the “what” with a vicious jab at a punching bag.
Practice this, I said.
It took a while to get used to someone else in your head, even if that someone was limited to direct thoughts. I needed us to be synchronized before we actually got on mission. His answer was to switch into the channel. After only that small training session with me he was communicating almost flawlessly. He was a quick learner, but even quick learners need practice.
You know why they sent you, don’t you? he said
The question took me by surprise...again. It was a relief, though. I’d been dying to talk to someone about this and my new guardian was the best possible choice for this conversation. After all, whether he realized it or not, he was with me in this.
It’s my last chance, one final attempt to redeem myself.
Maybe. Even mentally his tone sounded wry.
What do you mean?
I know why I was sent here. They say it’s my big opportunity, too, but I’m not a fool. I’m the first outlander they’ve ever given this chance to, and this is my test of fire.
What was he talking about? This was my test!
I’m your crucible? Do you get a special reward or something?
No, actually. I don’t think they expect me to make it out alive.
Great. That made two of us.
My parents worked in a factory for a year once. When they test a new prototype, they do all sorts of things to it until they break it. That way they know exactly where the breaking point is in future models. I’m that prototype. I’m not meant to survive this.
I felt a chill run through my whole body.
Do you mean that I’m not meant to survive either?
I already knew the answer...but did he?
Of course you aren’t. You know their rules. This is just a really roundabout way of doing exactly what you knew they would have to do.
It was interesting that he never said “we”.
Why are you here if you know you’re going to die?
I’m planning on beating the house.
Just like in the simulation. Did Roman ever follow a predictable course?
There was a small flicker of gold in his thoughts...like a chuckle. He followed it with a flurry of punches against the bag. I felt my pace speed up on the treadmill. Watching him attack the punching bag so hard made me want to run faster. I wasn’t sure what psychology was behind that, but my appreciation for him was growing with every punch that landed on that bag.
Plus, I don’t have a choice. My parents were nobodies. Wanderers. No citizenship. No allegiance. Our lives were lives of poverty and constant struggle to make enough money to buy air...air!...and other necessities. I don’t want to live like that.
Then join the Colony Worlds or the People’s Choice. They’ll take you in without all this, I challenged.
That would be great, but like I said, I didn’t have a choice.
Even if it kills you? Maybe he really was on my side...sort of.
One night we were on our little ship and we drifted into Blackwatch Sovereign Space. It was a calculation error. We were over the line by about a kilometer. He started his story with a stony face, his eyes glued to the punching bag. I felt a sense of relief wash through his words, like he’d been waiting a long time to tell this story. Do you know how big a kilometer is in space? It’s tiny, like a fraction of an eyelash width kind of tiny.
I felt a chill go up my core. I could guess where this conversation was heading.
The border patrol ship that found us told us to man lifeboats and that our ship would be shot down in accordance with Blackwatch border regulations. We didn’t have lifeboats, Vera.
He kicked the punching bag with his full force behind it, grunting with the effort, while flecks of sweat flew off him from the force of the blow. My run slowed to a walk, and then I was still, just standing there, staring at him, feeling the pain slide through our channel with his thoughts.
I told you we were poor. Dirt poor. Our emergency soft-suits were old. Outdated. We piled into them anyways and abandoned ship. I tried to get my mom to take the newest one, but she and dad insisted I take it. They were so stubborn, and there just wasn’t enough time to fight with them. The klaxon was sounding and the time was almost up, so I got in the good one. We were all roped together when we left the ship.
He paused for another roundhouse kick that landed so hard I thought I felt the gym shake.
The patrol ship blew our ship out of the sky. They came back to pick us up as survivors. They were too late. I was watching my parents through their faceplates when their suits failed and they sucked in vacuum. It’s not a pretty way to die. It took border patrol an hour to recover me and cut me loose from my parent’s corpses.
He turned and looked me dead in the eye, his chest heaving, his breath gasping, and those cinnamon brown eyes boring into mine with fiery intensity.
I don’t like Blackwatch. I don’t like Matsumotos. Your whole corrupt world stole the only people who mattered to me.
I swallowed before I replied. I wasn’t sure what to say in the face of a story like that so I tried to keep it simple and to stick to the facts.
Then why did you stay and become a guardian?
He gave me a rueful half smile, but didn’t drop my gaze.
I told you. I didn’t have a choice...or at least not a reasonable one. They shipped me to the marines for basic training, and from there I was chosen for guardian training. The choice I was given was between that and being kicked back out into vacuum in only the suit I was wearing. You tell me, Vera. Is that a choice?
I swallowed and shook my head, appalled by his story. He finally dropped my gaze and I felt my eyes brimming with moisture before I could stop them. I turned my treadmill back on and started to jog again, absorbed in my thoughts. I could hear Roman return to his kickboxing or whatever he was doing. No wonder he called Blackwatch “them” and “you”. His story was appalling, but I couldn’t help the first question that rose in my mind: what would keep him from betraying me at the first possible moment? I was one of the hated Matsumotos. I swallowed and tried not to think about it.
I suppose your parents are out there somewhere speaking for the Emperor? They didn’t have anything to say about what you did? He broke into my thoughts.
I shook my head mentally – a flash of dark grey- denial. The color codes were working perfectly.
They died when I was small.
How? he asked, and because of his story I felt like he had the right to know.
My mother died when a foreign terrorist attacked her. She upheld the Matsumoto code and refused to defend herself. I was proud of that – even though I hadn’t seen fit to follow in her footsteps. My father died for crimes committed against the Empire. Namely my conception, but I wasn’t ready to tell him that.
His eyebrows shot up and he gave me a wry look.
Like father like daughter?
I blushed. Hardly.
It was a different crime.
He just looked at me like I was splitting hairs. I tried to plow on.
I’ve been raised by aunts and uncles for as long as I can remember...and Edward, of course.
You miss him. The thought was directed wi
th a gentleness, almost a kindness to its tone.
I didn’t answer.
You don’t have to answer. I hear it in all your thoughts.
Of course he did. I’d forgotten. It was hard to block strong emotions from the channel. Oddly enough, I could feel one from him right now. Compassion. I got off the treadmill, wiping a towel across my forehead as if I was fully engrossed in the activity. When I looked up Roman was standing right in front of me, dripping with sweat, and still wearing that look of intensity.
No pity from you, Roman.
A flash of suppressed humor with a wry undercurrent came through. He was laughing at me.
Don’t worry, Vera. I’m not known for my compassion. Particularly for Matsumotos. He paused for a moment like he was replaying what he had just said back in his head. I felt my gaze boring into him. How could I trust someone like this to guard my back? I don’t include you in that list. I aced my guardian tests and despite my feelings about Blackwatch and Matsumotos in general, I will be a good guardian for you. I’ll make sure you don’t die despite what your Empire has chosen for you.
His cinnamon eyes were hard, and against all logic I felt at that there might be some hope to this expedition. I was going to find my cousin and Roman and I were going to live through the attempt. He might hate Matsumotos, but he was going to help me save one.
“Roman?” I asked aloud, surprised by the sound of my own voice. Something was still niggling at the back of my brain and I had to ask.
“Yes?”
“You acted so strangely when we were running that simulation on New Greenland.”
He nodded slightly, so I continued.
“It was like you were two people. The one inside the simulation and the one outside.”
He nodded again but he looked guarded and he didn’t offer an explanation.
“Which one was the real you?”
His mouth quirked up into that funny smile. “Which do you think?”
I considered for a moment and then ducked my head slightly, peering out from under my long eyelashes when I answered him. I felt sort of vulnerable and I was afraid to let him see that.
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