It was up to me. No Roman this time. Hopefully muscle memory was good for something. I sunk into a low stance, closed my eyes and tried to will my body to act. Dr. Wehr said that I didn’t have it in me to attack humans, but he’d never said anything about creepy shadows with a fungi fetish. I opened my eyes and lunged, slicing the shadow in half with the blade of my hand. Inky splotches puffed in the air where I struck it.
Well, that was easy, I began to think, and then suddenly the remaining shadow wrapped around my arm and slid up around my throat. I fought it as it throttled me, losing my footing and sliding down the gravel slope on my bottom as I tried to pry it off.
Around me the sounds of a battle were loud, but I had no time to focus on any of them. I was locked in a life or death battle with a deadly shadow.
Roman!
No. This was on me. It was time for me to do this. Did that mean I would die because I couldn’t fight? Pretty much.
The shadow around my neck jerked, and I choked at the added pressure, drumming my heels against the gravel, arms flailing. Suddenly, the pressure was gone, and I felt something like a thick snake slide from around my neck. My skidding stopped but I was sitting in a pool of shadow. I tried to touch it, but like a real shadow, there was nothing to feel. I looked up.
I was sitting at the base of the canyon, having slid all the way down the ground we’d gained as I grappled for my life. Far above, the rest of our group was cresting the canyon’s edge. I remembered there were screams, but if the others had been fighting there were no signs of it now.
Ian, in all his demi-god-like glory, huffed beside me, hands on his knees. Even fighting a snake-like shadow down a hill of loose stones wasn’t enough to dishevel him beyond attractiveness. It was something that went beyond his genetically modified perfection and reached into that command presence he’d inherited from his father.
He gave me a quizzical look.
“What happened to your amazing shadow-fighting skills?” he asked.
“It came out of nowhere,” I said.
“They all do,” he said, still looking at me with more intensity than was justified, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted me dead or wanted me for an ally. At least there was some indecision there now, even if it were only the result of my shadow-fighting skills. “Is it just me, or do they seem to be making strange choices in tactics?”
“They’re making strange choices,” I admitted, massaging my neck.
“It doesn’t take a tactical expert to wonder why they don’t just slaughter us all. There are way more of them out there than there are of us, and most of us aren’t armed.”
His hands were on his hips and he was studying the tree line, like he was seeing something in his mind’s eye.
“Maybe it’s a test of some kind,” I suggested, turning to re-braiding my disheveled hair.
“We aren’t the first humans to come here,” he said, his blue eyes flashing in the white Baldric light.
“Well, then maybe they are testing us specifically,” I said, absently.
I was trying to decide what to do about him. Should I push him to trust me, or give him space to form his own conclusions? Despite his current hatred of me, he was my most likely potential ally. Provided I wanted to live at all.
He gave me a pointed look, like I was being purposely obtuse.
“You think they are testing me, specifically, because I am a Matsumoto,” I said. “Unlikely.”
He sighed and ran a tanned hand through his perfect hair.
“All I know, Vera, is that me and all my friends have done nothing but suffer or die since meeting you.”
I felt a lump form in my throat because it was absolutely true. I hated that it was true.
“Are you suggesting that I should leave you all and walk off into this alien forest as a kind of …sacrifice?”
He cleaned his teeth with his tongue. “Maybe. It might be our best bet.”
It was cold. But I was used to cold. It was also accurate.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, and I meant it.
At heart I am an honourable person. If this really had to do with me, or if I thought it would do any good I’d go make myself into fungi art with the others. I wasn’t above self-sacrifice. That’s the part of being a Matsumoto that people forget.
But you’re not a Matsumoto anymore, I reminded myself. Could I stop being one if that’s still how everyone saw me? Yes. No. Not really. I could stop being one in my mind, but I couldn’t stop being one to them. I could only redefine what that meant.
“We should climb the hill,” I said, tired as much from the mental struggle as the physical one.
We climbed the sliding rocks at half the speed of last time. It was more grinding having already done it once. Especially, since we were making the trek alone this time. No one called down to us, but every so often I saw a marine look over the edge to gauge our progress.
“How much more air do you think is in these oxygen tanks?” Ian asked.
Monitor oxygen tank use, I told my implant.
Oxygen tank at 78%.
“The rest of the day, maybe longer,” I said.
“That’s not much time.”
I nodded, changing my feet to try to use the flat edge of my foot as a wedge in the sliding rock rather than stepping straight on.
“Look, Ian,” I started in a soft voice. I wasn’t much good at apologies, and this one seemed bigger than most.
“Don’t…” he said.
I guess we could talk about tactics, but not what really mattered
When we finally crested the top of the canyon, the air between us was cold and tense again. I felt a pang of regret, of sadness, but only for a moment. We started to walk again.
The forest here was less dense, and the landscape rolled in every direction. Stretches of striped monochrome grass dominated the view, and low purple bushes dotted the ridges. Above us a huge white moon filled half the sky, despite the white sunlight. Two others were small yellow dots in the distance. Three moons in the day – it would take some getting used to, but it was beautiful. The sky seemed a touch too purple, reminding me that the atmosphere here was not the same as the ones on most of the inhabited worlds. It could probably be changed with terraforming, and doubtless the colony was working on that, but for now the alien color reminded us that we were not home.
“We’re headed that way,” Corporal Maxwell said, pointing to the chain of colonists in the distance, working their way in the direction of the colony. Their feet beat a chalky path in the pale dust.
“Couldn’t have waited for us?” Ian grumbled.
“There’s a human installation of some kind. If it’s one of ours we can stay there and sleep,” Maxwell said, slipping off his helmet and rubbing the sweat off his bald head. “So don’t gripe.”
It was clear from his tone that he wished he wasn’t burdened with a bunch of people who were prisoners in all but name.
“Time to move out, then, eh soldier?” Ian said, with a wry twist to his mouth.
THE SPLITTING: 6
WE CAUGHT UP WITH THE others as they reached the installation. It was a fabricated semi-dome sticking up from the landscape and largely hidden by foliage and rocks. The surface was reflective and smooth, but there was a hatch on the side of the installation and a sensor array in a slender tower above it. It looked like it had settled into the earth, so it must have been there for a while, but there was no tarnish that I could see. There was also no beaten track or anything else that would suggest recent use. It was a bit of a puzzler.
Corporal Maxwell was first through the doors. I thought that probably wasn’t SOP, and I wondered why he chose to do it. Wasn’t the person in command supposed to hang back so he didn’t get attacked? He came out a moment later saying it was clear, and we all shuffled inside. Fergus sealed and locked the hatch, and I looked around with the others.
The walls were made of one-way glass. They’d been reflective outside, but they were clear on this side, givin
g us a 360° view. It was larger than I had expected, and there was just enough room for everyone. The center of the dome had desks and monitors for the sensor arrays, but the surrounding area was spacious and carpeted. There were even a few couches and comfortable chairs around the edges.
Stairs led below to a lavatory, storeroom and four bunks. It seemed like this place was meant to host an observation team, or something similar, but there was no one around.
“Everyone top your tanks up from the air tanks below. There should be enough,” Maxwell said, “and then eat and get some shut eye. We’ll head out again in eight hours.”
I sidled over to the computers, trying not to draw attention. The screens were dark.
Connect to computers, I tried ordering my implant.
Connection established. Limited connectivity.
What does ‘limited connectivity’ mean?
Connection is available to computer databases, but not to sensor arrays or communications networks.
I scrolled through the database.
Database Directory.
Research Logs.
Equipment manuals.
Communications protocols.
Pretty slender database selection. It didn’t sound like the occupants were much for record keeping.
Download Research Logs, I ordered.
Downloading…
I followed the line of colonists that wound down the staircase, waiting for my turn to use the facilities and top up my air. It occurred to me that the installation was probably climate controlled, so I slipped off my mask and turned the valve to ‘off.’ Best to conserve what we did have. I saw a few others stare at me curiously before taking their own masks off.
The air smelled a little stale but mostly it smelled of foreign plants and pollens that I hadn’t experienced yet because of the mask. Even stale the air tasted good. Breathing silicon smell and tanked air is not ideal and my sweat mingling in with it hadn’t helped.
The wait was long, and as I stood there I found my mind drifting to Denise. After all the chaos and drama that it took to rescue her, she’d been killed by anti-Imperial terrorists. Her death made everything feel flat and worse than useless.
Poor Denise. She hadn’t been able to escape an early death. The girl who loved boys and fun and breaking all the rules had been through hell and wound up dead even after surviving it. I wanted to cry, but here, surrounded by killers, didn’t seem like a good place to break down. I blinked back my tears furiously and almost laughed at myself. By now I should be immune to tragedy. What was there left to take away from me? It doesn’t matter how much you’ve lost, there’s still pain when you lose something more.
Downloading…
Stupid implant, interrupting my grief. I should turn it off, but I just couldn’t after what happened the last time I did. I had many faults but refusing to learn from my mistakes was not one of them. Or maybe it was. I didn’t know anymore. I felt so tired.
When my turn to top up my air supply came, I carefully refilled my tanks, sealed them and reset both the external gauge and my implant’s tracking function. This seemed like one of those things you should keep track of.
“Almost done, honey pie?” Ch’ng said from behind me.
I whirled and gave him a death look. He laughed.
“Look at the claws on the kitten,” Sentry said as he joined the laughter. “Don’t let the girl scratch you.”
It was lame. It was still worrying, with his history, and apparently with the allies all around him, but it wasn’t super-villain dialogue. There was something, though, about the way he said ‘the girl’ that bothered me. With my expression dead-pan I let my mind unravel the mystery.
When I realized the answer, I looked up, and my gaze locked on to Ian’s. I was the only woman left in this group. How had I failed to notice that? In fairness, there had been other things on my mind, and I wasn’t raised in a world that paid a lot of attention to gender. Even so, I kicked myself for not noticing a salient detail.
Ian crossed his arms over his chest. There was no sympathy or protectiveness there. I clenched my jaw. It’s one thing to be an ex-pacifist. It’s something else to be a dangerous killer. I was going to have to work on that if I decided to survive.
“Didn’t you see?” I asked, “I eat shadows for breakfast.”
It wasn’t very original, but it was still better than his line.
They didn’t stop grinning, but there was an edge of respect in it now. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to make good on my reputation. Without Roman’s help there was no way I could…yet.
I was glad when my turn in the facilities arrived. I sealed the hatch door tightly as I took care of my necessities and emerged slightly less smelly and more presentable. I was sorry to discover that there were still no scissors around to cut my hair but the braid sufficed at present. I went back up top and positioned myself near to the outside hatch to sleep.
There was a marine posted there, and if Maxwell was worth anything there should be one posted all night. It was the best place I could think of to avoid being molested. Worth a shot, at any rate.
Downloading…
Either that was one huge file, or my connection was poor. At this rate it would take all night. I curled up, planning to get what sleep I could. With the terrors outside and within, I was worried that sleep wouldn’t come, but before I knew it I had drifted off.
THE SPLITTING: 7
AT FIRST I THOUGHT I was dreaming. I was holding a gun and following a group of marines into a high density housing unit. I wasn’t controlling my body’s actions, though, just watching, as if I were a passenger.
A marine nodded to me. She was a pretty blonde woman, and she looked tough as nails. She made a hand gesture and pointed at the door. There was a look of familiarity in her eyes as she looked at me.
I ran to the door, opened it quickly and ran through, brandishing my nettlegun like I was ready to fire it.
“Room clear,” I said, and oh! I recognized that voice!
I felt a surge of affection.
“Understood, Aldrin.”
I was riding, somehow, in Roman Aldrin’s head. I had gone to sleep thinking about him, and it was possible that I was dreaming this, but it felt very real.
My…fireteam, I guess… was coming in behind me. The blonde was the fireteam leader. She gave the orders. We cleared three more rooms. She gave me hand signals, and I flew through the doors scanning for the enemy. Or at least that’s what I thought Roman was doing.
I caught a glimpse of him in a mirror on one of the walls. His hair was cut very short, like an Imperial marine – which he was now. He looked worn, tired, and worried. It made me worried for him. Was he terribly unhappy as a marine? Was he being treated poorly? He didn’t look like he was eating well. His face was thinner and older looking. I tried to see if I could glimpse him in any reflective surface that we passed. Had he lost weight? Was he ok?
My tension rose with the minutes. I wished I could help him somehow. Not with the job, he seemed to have that taken care of, but he seemed like he was worn to a frazzle and I didn’t like that.
Roman’s team must have been looking for someone in the residences, but the rooms were all empty. Maybe it had been evacuated before they arrived.
We entered a room with a red door in the same manner we had every time. This room was like the rest, spare in decoration, modern, but lower class. There wasn’t much money here. Roman seemed pre-occupied by something half under the couch. A toy? He didn’t like to speak much about his childhood since he lost his parents. I wondered if it reminded him of it somehow.
His fireteam fanned out through the room. Their blonde leader was by the door. She had sergeant stripes. I didn’t like her. A boy not much older than Roman was running his hand over his nettlegun and looking nervously out the window when one of the walls exploded with flechettes. They flew through the molded plastic, shredding it in seconds and tore into the nervous marine.
The blonde started calling o
ut orders and everyone was firing. Everyone except Roman. Fire! I thought, madly, don’t let them shoot you! Don’t die in something so routine!
But Roman dropped his gun. Was he ok? Had he been hit? I hadn’t felt anything, or seen his vision shake. He scrambled to the couch and dove underneath. Running from danger was not like him at all.
Somehow, he had realized something that had escaped me. There was a child hiding beneath the couch, his huge eyes welling up in tears and a look of terror on his tiny face. I felt my arms go around him, tucking his little body under my armor, and tucking his little head into my chest.
Me, Vera, the one riding inside Roman’s head…I wanted to cry. It was so Roman to notice and to care. It was so like him to put himself aside and drop everything on a hunch that someone needed protecting. Warmth and appreciation flooded me. I hoped the boy would be ok. But of course he would be. He had Roman to protect him. Hadn’t I always been okay when I had Roman to protect me?
My eyes opened and the dream…or whatever it was… ended.
Planetary time?
22:42
I rolled over and went back to sleep. I needed to log some real sleep time. I could sort out how I felt in the morning if I was still alive then. I fell asleep with warmth at my core. Roman was alive somewhere and still himself. I treasured the memory of him saving that little boy.
I was kicked awake; another reminder that I was not royalty anymore.
“What’s up?” I asked, cognizant of a change immediately.
“We were able to contact Command,”Maxwell said in his usual spare way, “They saw a shuttle land close to our location, but haven’t been able to raise them on the comm. We’re going to investigate.”
“Has it been eight hours?” Ian grumbled from beside me.
“Close enough. Welcome to life with the marines.”
“I never signed up to be a Marine,” Ch’ng said.
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