I felt like there was a tennis ball in my throat. A fallen tree, weathered and branchless, lay about four meters from the forest edge. A large shadow loomed behind it. Which made me wonder… why were the shadows still so long?
Local planetary time? I queried.
12:16 local planetary time.
What? How many hours are there in a Baldric day?
There are 43 hours in a Baldric day.
Thanks for mentioning that. I snapped at the AI.
Typical computer garbage. Always leaving out the most relevant information. Too bad my sarcasm wouldn’t even dent its artificial self-esteem. So that explained why we’d been running for hours and it still looked like mid-morning.
I’d been thinking all that to distract myself as I edged towards the log, but once I was there I couldn’t ignore the shadow anymore. I reached slowly towards it.
“Today, Matsumoto!” Maxwell called.
Little did he know, I still had 31 hours in this day. Or maybe he did know. The marines had been pretty cagey so far with intel.
I grabbed the log, my heart racing, and scrambled back across the gravel, towing it behind me. It was heavy, and I was bent double and skidding on the loose gravel as my feet fought to bring the larger muscle groups of my legs to bear. I dropped it at Maxwell’s feet and saw that other debris was being piled around us.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Ad hoc fort.”
Wow. It was a really terrible one.
“Inside, colonist.”
It took all of one step to get inside. We huddled low in a “fort” ten inches high made of random rubble. The three marines stood above us with their nettleguns, prepared to make a last stand.
The history of Last Stands is a long and varied one. I wrote a paper on it once. From Old Earth’s General Custer, to Blackwatch’s own Admiral Wiebe, there have been a lot of famously bad last stands. A Last Stand is always bad, because it’s your last, but for some reason, when faced with difficult odds there are a lot of people who just flip the card table over as if it’s not even worth seeing how the cards play out. This move by Corporal Maxwell, was an epic card table flip.
We were going to die badly this morning. A perfectionist by nature, this bothered me more than my impending death did. All this time associating with Roman and the criminal elements we’d battled together had given me a shred of tactical dignity I was unhappy to relinquish.
The marines checked their nettleguns, reloading as needed. They adjusted sights or tac scanners, also as needed. Those of us in the pile sweated and breathed too heavily.
Around us, a humming began. Softly at first. Then louder.
My research into Native culture so far had revealed two things that they had in common with us: they liked killing, and they loved famous last stands. They were about as human as amorphous shadows could be.
The humming gained volume until it was all I could hear…that, and the infernal echo.
I blinked, and they were there: a sea of red inverted carets, splitting off from the shadows behind the oaks and zooming towards us as rapidly as normal shadows do when the sun dodges behind a cloud.
The marines started auto-firing. I couldn’t tell if it was killing anyone. The numbers of the shadows were so great that if nettles hurt or killed them it would be impossible to tell. Their fellows would just queue up to fill their places.
I stood up. If I was going to die I’d rather do it on my feet.
A shadow split off and raced towards me, coalescing in front of me. It was similar to me in size, and shape, but the details were different. I could just about pick them out if it would just stop moving. I released the straps and dropped my pack. The shadow swayed in front of me, as if to say, ‘Bring it on.’
The echo was so loud I could hardly think, and then as I raised my hands to defend myself…I split.
THE SPLITTING: 5
OR AT LEAST THAT’S WHAT it felt like. One minute I was Vera Matsumoto inside Vera Matsumoto’s body. The next minute I was Vera Matumoto inside someone else’s body. I experienced seeing what they saw and hearing what they heard, but overlaid on that was a fuzzy black and white view of what was going on from my body’s perspective – only now it was out of my control. In the moment I didn’t have time to break it down like that, it was only later that I was able to sort out the details. Nausea overwhelmed me, and my head spun – or someone’s head spun. It took enormous effort to pull myself back together and concentrate.
I was in a briefing. There were Fleet and Marine officers in uniform in a brightly lit conference room. Everything essential was fixed to a hard surface so it couldn’t float away if there were gravity problems, suggesting that we were in a starship. The man at the front wasn’t in fatigues but in a dress uniform and he was giving the briefing.
“After planetfall you have two hours,” he said. His insignia marked him as a Marine Colonel, and his widening midsection and thinning hair suggested he was old enough for the job.
While I could clearly see the Colonel, there was a faint overlay effect in my vision so that I could also see thru Vera’s eyes. She was fighting the shadow, her feet and hands lashing out quickly, connecting somehow with the inky mass. It spurted black puffs of shadow into the air every time she connected.
“Find Driscoll’s followers and capture them. Alive.” The Colonel was trying to channel his intensity into every word.
Vera fought like a machine, shadow after shadow. She flipped and ducked and wove, fists and feet flying in beautiful precision. Who was it that had taken over my body? Who was kicking butt over there on Baldric in my body? It was so amazing I could hardly focus on the briefing. It felt familiar, like I had seen that angel of death before.
A holopic was in the middle of the conference table. It showed a man in his forties. He looked like someone who could make trouble – as it seemed he was doing. He also looked intelligent and cunning. Whoever I was, I had better watch out. Like Eads McIsaac, this one had “predator” written all over him.
The colonel narrated as the holopic spun from image to image. “Patrick Driscoll was targeting the Matsumoto Dynasty with his attacks before we captured him. Last night his followers succeeded in killing Denise Matsumoto, the Emperor’s cousin.”
I stifled a gasp. Poor Denise. I felt my heart sinking, even as I watched a pool of shadows gather at Vera’s feet as she piled up shadow enemy after shadow enemy. Her reflexes were amazing.
But, Denise. Oh, Denise. Roman and I had fought so hard to save her, and now this. A tiny part of my brain reminded me that Nigel had called her a greater problem now that her mind was gone. He wouldn’t have set her up to be taken out by terrorists…would he?
“Their tactics are unique and highly dangerous. Do not let them touch you at any cost. They inject people against their will with a brain-hijacking technology. The technology is classified, but we warn you again not to allow them to touch you.”
I felt a pang in my leg and my hand reached for it immediately as if by habit. A thick scar padded my thigh under my hand. It was fiery to the touch. As soon as I touched it, I knew whose body I was in. I looked to the side and caught my face reflected poorly in the glass of a sliding hatch door.
Roman.
I inhaled sharply, tears springing to my eyes as I saw the face of my dearest friend looking at me. It was a face I’d thought I’d never see again.
I snapped like an elastic band snapping back into place after being stretched. Or at least that’s what it felt like.
I was back in my own body, panting, my legs spread in a wide fighting stance and my hands up in front of me. The only red inverted carets left were flickering far in the distance and under my feet was a pool of shadows.
Someone behind me uttered a profanity in what sounded like admiration. I felt like echoing him. Roman’s handiwork was effective, as always.
Corporal Maxwell stared at me with the one eye not covered by the tac lens. He shook himself, clearly deciding I was a problem above
his pay grade.
“Fall out! We’re heading out before they come again. Fergus, rear! Mutambi, point. I have Morin’s place.”
We ran.
“Who in the black hells is she?” I heard, among other things. Roman had earned me a reputation.
But, more pressing than my burgeoning reputation was the salient question: How had that happened to us? We had just sort of…split…and half of each of us was in the other person. I could hardly form even a single thought around it. It was like science fiction. If we were physically close, I might have thought it was our implants. They’d been strangely connected even before we swapped bodies under the stress of torture on Veritas IV, but this was even stranger and we were millions of light years apart. He’d told me that the next time we switched bodies I’d need his permission in writing. I definitely didn’t have that! He was going to kill me. It warmed me to think of him angry because it meant he was alive.
I fought to find an explanation, as I ran, but nothing came of it. I just ended up sad that I hadn’t been able to say “thank you” to Roman. Even light years away he was my guardian still, in heart. I’d never again find his like. I missed him so much that he was like a phantom limb.
Roman, Roman, Roman, my heart sang, but my head was racing to figure out what to do about the red inverted carets that kept ghosting at the edges of my vision.
I couldn’t count on Roman taking over every time we were attacked. Especially, since it looked like that would be every hour or so until we were all yellow fungi towers. I needed to think of a way to fight them myself. They weren’t human, which was an advantage for me since I psychologically couldn’t kill humans. It was one of those fun little Matsumoto traits like my pretty eyes and thick black hair. It was my only advantage though. I had no knowledge of hand-to-hand combat, or anything-to-hand combat for that matter.
We ran on, stopping occasionally for water breaks, but never more than for a few minutes. Eventually we reached the end of the canyon, where a waterfall trickled over the cliff face and transformed into the creek we’d been following.
There was no way up its slick surface. We were boxed in. We’d need to climb the canyon wall. It was not so steep that we would need gear, but a climb would leave us vulnerable to attack. My Tactical Interface threw up the height and figures. It claimed a 78% chance we would be attacked on the climb. I loved having a pessimistic computer in my head; it dovetailed perfectly with my own pessimism.
We all stood there huffing air though our masks and probably thinking along the same lines. I was wondering if all of this was worth it. I was out here fighting for a life I wasn’t sure I even wanted anymore. I lost everything that mattered to me before I was sent to Capricornia, except for my life and Roman. Now they’d taken Roman, too, and if neither of us died it still wasn’t likely we’d ever see each other again … in the flesh at least.
I thought about that as I watched the cliffs and saw the inverted carets dance. How badly did I want to live with nothing really to live for? Best case scenario, I’d survive and be a hard working colonist in ‘Native Relations’ here on Baldric. It was about as appealing as eating sand. Was that worth fighting for?
I thought of Roman fighting off those shadows. He thought I was worth fighting for – even now. Even after I’d gotten him in so much of a mess. Did he know it was me?
And what about the reverence I’d had for life up until now? I’d thought that life was so sacred I had no right to even defend myself if it meant taking the life of another. Nothing seemed as sacred as that right now. Nigel and the Empire weren’t. These marines who hated us weren’t. Those shadows weren’t. And us, the ‘colonists,’ the trash of Blackwatch? What about us? I didn’t see anything sacred here, either.
Roman. His loyalty. His self sacrifice. If there was anything worth fighting for I guessed it would be him.
I drove it from my mind. I’d likely never see him again. If I was going to decide that I wanted to live then I’d need to make that happen on my own. For the first time, no one was going to save me.
I opened my pack and fiddled around inside finding a bit of twine, cut it with the handy survival knife – far too small to be a weapon, but just enough to do some basic tasks – and then I braided my hair over one shoulder and tied the end. My hair was long and beautiful and very much in the way right now. When I found scissors I would cut it off.
Maxwell was the only one looking at the cliffs with a different expression than the rest of us. I realized he was trying to communicate with someone. I focused on my Tactical Interface, paying attention to the communications text on the side screen. After a few seconds of sorting through random chatter, I discovered how to key in to just him. His communications read:
Command: …there? Corporal Maxwell?...
Maxwell: Corporal Maxwell reporting.
Command:…there?...
Maxwell: This is Maxwell.
Command: …Come in…
Maxwell: I say again, this is Maxwell. Go ahead.
As always with government or military they were screwing up perfectly. The military expression is ‘screwing up by the numbers.’
I walked over to Maxwell. If you aren’t sure if you care whether you die it makes you care a bit less about appearances.
“It might help if you spoke out loud instead of subvocalizing.”
He glared at me, and I shrugged.
“I’m serious.”
The terrorists wouldn’t need to hijack Maxwell’s brain. It was already off on vacation most of the time.
Maxwell sighed and gave in, flipping his helmet mike down and speaking aloud.
“This is Corporal Maxwell, I say again, go ahead.”
“Corporal Maxwell, this is Command,” It sounded like Reynolds, “Report on your status, over.”
“Corporal Maxwell, reporting. I’ve lost one marine and two colonists. Three marines and eighteen colonists surviving. We are encountering light enemy contact, pressing forward on a direct route to the rendezvous, over.”
This was ‘light’ contact? What exactly had gone on before I woke from cryosleep?
“Corporal Maxwell, this is Command. Remain on course, but with rest stops. Local planetary days are 43 hours. Do not wait for night fall to rest, over.”
“Understood, sir, over.”
“Make best time with appropriate rests and we will meet you at the rendezvous, over and out.”
“Understood, sir, over and out.”
Well, that was all very nice and orderly, and at least he’d been ordered to give us rests. The sun hadn’t even reached its zenith. I probably wasn’t the only one who needed some food and a sleep.
“We’ll climb the side of the canyon first,” Maxwell announced, knowing we’d all heard.
The marines chorused their assent, but the colonists were exchanging looks. I think the thought had occurred to all of us that we outnumbered the marines, even though they were the only ones armed. How long did we need to keep following orders? How many marines could we overpower? For me it was only speculation. I had no desire to ‘bushwhack’ my way through Baldric, but I could sense that for others this was more of a possibility. The desire for freedom is a powerful motivator.
At Maxwell’s insistence we were each given a ‘buddy’ to help us up the cliff. He assigned me Ian, of course.
“You get the panther girl,” Sentry hissed to Ian. I ignored them. I wasn’t sure who would kill me faster given half the chance, Sentry with his long list of murders, or Ian with his very personal hatred.
Maxwell led the charge – or rather the scramble – up the side of the ravine. It was comprised mainly of loose rock, but the incline took a few jogs. Forty meters is high even if the incline is gradual enough that you don’t need ropes. Half the problem was getting traction on the skidding rocks. The other half was avoiding the dislodged rocks of the climbers above you. They rolled and bounced their way down the surface, barely missing heads or bodies. I heard curses start almost as soon as Maxwell’s as
cent began, and they continued throughout.
I looked at Ian just before we were about to take our turn. He was studiously ignoring me. I tried to forget how he used to make me feel warm and appreciated, and remember that none of that mattered now. It was my fault he was here. Not completely, but enough. His hatred of me was a given.
He turned an icy glare on me. “What do you want?”
I shook my head and looked away, but I wished it wasn’t like this. I wished I could fix the mess I had made. For Roman, if I could. For Ian. For anyone. I just wished I could fix it all. Actions have consequences. The day I saved my own life I set in motion events that put them all here. If it hadn’t been for my choice none of this would be the way it was. Ian would still rule his planet under his father… or would he? Nigel had suggested it was only a matter of time before he came and took it over anyway.
We started our climb up the rocks, skidding side by side. Some pairs of colonists assisted one another, lending a grip where needed, or pointing out rocks. We remained silent and as physically distant as possible, each trying to do it on our own. I almost laughed. Wasn’t that so true of us? Even now? Especially now.
My heart ached at that. I couldn’t help Ian, because we were both too stubborn. I dodged a bouncing rock and it nearly hit him instead.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“What was that?” he asked, a little too loudly.
“Sorry,” I said, looking at him and trying to convey everything I was thinking in that single look.
He held my gaze for a moment and I could tell he knew what I meant, but then his mouth twisted and he looked away.
I went back to climbing. My hamstrings were aching so badly I could barely lift my legs, but we were almost there. Every step we took slid almost halfway back, so we had to work another fifty percent harder to gain every meter of ground, but we were slowly snaking our way up the incline.
A shadow to the left looked a little too black. I stumbled, distracted by it, and Ian caught my arm, letting go almost immediately. His disdain at arresting my fall was apparent, but it was enough to right me. My Tactical Interface flicked up a red inverted caret as the shadow split and came towards us, rearing up in a perfect mockery of me.
The Matsumoto Trilogy: Omnibus Edition Page 28