There was one who looked ex-military. His gun was trained on the dark, and he was scanning and re-scanning the hillside. He glanced at me once and then ignored me. I was a lot more worried about him.
The third stood just behind the tough. He was older, at least mid-forties, tall and lean with narrow features. He had the air of someone who was used to giving orders and being obeyed. I can identify people like that easily because until just recently that description covered most of the people I knew and all of my relatives.
It was him that I looked at when I spoke, my hands held up, and my palms spread wide.
“Colonist,” I said.
The tough grunted.
The man behind him looked at me a long time.
“Matsumoto,” he countered, his voice so low, it was almost a hiss.
It happened for the second time. I split so suddenly that if I was still in my body it would have taken my breath away.
I was in Roman’s body again. I was standing out on a balcony or a deck of some kind and hovercraft were zipping all around, blocking any outside sound. It had all the usual charm of a public park on a rooftop. They had a lot of those on New Greenland. I must have been near a downtown to have so much traffic whizzing around.
The blonde from before was staring intently at Roman. She didn’t know it was me looking back at her. She was the Sergeant of his fireteam, right? No self-respecting Sergeant that I knew wore a dress like that. The hem line was miles high and the v-neck dipped dangerously low. I frowned in disapproval. No need to put all the goods in the front window.
Of course Roman was doing amazing things now that he had possession of my body. My long braid flew like a thick sailing rope, and my feet and hands flew even faster. A series of quick blows had the tough doubling over and his flechette gun in my hands.
“Roman?” The blonde asked, “Did you hear me? You need to hear me, Roman. It’s for your own good. I…care…about you.”
Her eyes lowered and then peeped up through her lashes. Man alive, she was giving him the works. Those eyes were so full of desire that you could hardly mistake her intent. Poor Roman. I had unintentionally interrupted a special moment. I hoped he’d take his body back promptly. I wasn’t sure what to do with it.
Back on Baldric I had the tough laid out on the floor, one foot on his neck and the other pointing the flechette gun at the older man. My whole body heaved with my breath, but I looked like death made alive I was so dangerous.
I snapped back into my body.
I was grateful to Roman for saving my bacon again, but worried about what I’d just experienced. Having lost him so fully, I was now beginning to appreciate what I’d had with my guardian. Seeing someone else rushing into my place with him wasn’t easy. I was trying not to feel hurt. After all, I’d done nothing but ruin Roman’s life. He had a right to try to find some happiness with someone else if he could. I pushed a little more weight into the foot I had on the tough’s neck. I wasn’t jealous of the blonde. How much weight would it take to hurt him? I stomped down a little harder, trying not to think of low v-necks and mile-high legs.
“Matsumoto,” the older man said, narrowing his eyes. “But not as advertised…”
“I don’t look good in Pacifism,” I said, lowering one eyebrow.
“So I see,” he said speculatively, eyeing his tough. The military man was still ignoring me. He must be taking orders from the older man, “but I was referring to the fact that you are alive.”
“For now.”
“Mmmm,” he looked like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself. “You are all colonists?”
“Prisoners,” I confirmed, “and three marines escorting us to the colony from where our ship crashed.”
“Your ship crashed,” he repeated, “as did our shuttle.”
“It seems like SOP for prisoner delivery on Baldric,” I agreed with a straight face.
He chuckled, but the hard look never left his eyes. It was then that I recognized him. He was the man in the holograph that Roman had been studying in his briefing.
“You would be Vera Matsumoto,” he said, as if he were laying down a face card.
“And you are Patrick Driscoll,” I said. It satisfied me when his face went from smug to alert. His eyes narrowed. “I hate to rush you Mr. Driscoll, but on Baldric ‘jumping at shadows’ isn’t nearly enough of a response to them. My compatriots are waiting to be picked off one by one. We would be less nervous with a human structure over our heads.”
As if on cue, someone screamed. I hoped it was just for effect, and not because they were now choking on a bright shade of yellow. These days when I hoped for something I was almost guaranteed to get the opposite result.
“Well then,” Driscoll said, slowly, “Sammy?”
“Yep,” the military man said, lowering his flechette gun, but still eyeing the shadows.
“If Schumner,” he said, pointing to the man under my foot, “is still alive, I think you could show an act of good faith as well, Matsumoto.”
I had almost forgotten I was standing on someone’s throat. I removed my foot carefully, taking a step back. I held onto the gun though. It was about time I was armed. Besides, I didn’t like how Driscoll said “Matsumoto.” Our truce seemed temporary, like it was borne of his curiosity and would only last as long as that curiosity did.
I racked my brain to think of what they’d said about him in the briefing. I’d been pretty occupied with everything else going on at the time. Oh, yes… he was a terrorist. He’d been targeting Matsumotos. I suddenly had a bad feeling about entering that tiny space with him. What was the worst he could do though? No, really, what was the worst? Because if it was worse than spending the rest of my life as a giant mushroom, then maybe I should be staying outside. I clung to the flechette gun with white knuckles.
For the present I stood outside, cancelling out Sammy with his flechette gun, as my original cronies started to filter in. Ian gave me an odd look. He was becoming more opaque as time went on.
There were twelve colonists in total. Our numbers were dwindling. What had the doctor called us? Reinforcements? Mutambi and Fergus brought up the rear.
“Corporal Maxwell?” I asked.
Mutambi shook his head.
“I’ve been promoted.”
“Guns at the door or no enter-ee,” Driscoll said in a weird accent.
Fergus dropped his and headed in with no objection. Mutambi looked like he would, but another scream in the dark made him shrug and put his down, too.
I clutched mine tightly in my fists.
THE SPLITTING: 10
“Well then, Matsumoto?” Driscoll asked, nodding to the flechette gun.
I hiked up the assault rifle-style weapon to my shoulder. I wasn’t letting go. Based on the readouts it was armed and still loaded with 68% of its original flechette armament. I didn’t know the specs on this gun. I was an ambassador, not a gun nut, but they were usually topped up with about 10k of tiny flechettes.
Hack flechette computer, I told my implant. The chips in the guns were super basic, like a comm device, so I figured it was worth a shot.
Forced pair successful.
Lock gun to my bio signature, I ordered, remembering that tasty little tidbit from practicing with Edward.
‘If you can lock it to you then it doesn’t matter that you don’t kill people, because at least that’s one weapon that won’t be killing you.’
I owed a lot to my original guardian. Like always when I remembered him, I breathed a silent prayer for his soul. Rest in Peace.
Gun locked.
Too bad I didn’t have the ability to lock firearms I wasn’t holding or this whole nonsense would be moot.
“We should probably get inside,” I said, ignoring his implied command.
“Leave the gun,” Sammy said, gesturing with his own firearm.
“I think I’ll take it with me,” I said casually.
“Relinquish the firearm or it will be taken from you,” Sammy said.
He settled himself more firmly on his feet, like he was about to take a shot at me.
“I think your boss wants to talk to me. Why don’t you let him?” I said, gambling.
“I don’t have a boss,” Sammy muttered, but after a glance at Driscoll he headed into the shuttle.
“I already know everything I need to know,” Driscoll said, but his eyes held a threat.
If he thought I wouldn’t use the gun because I was a Matsumoto he should have thought again. I’d gotten over that little stricture before, and I could do it again.
I went into the shuttle holding my firearm without waiting to see what he said. Fortune favors the bold. It was not as I had expected.
It was brightly lit and modern, but it was a small transport shuttle, not one of the larger ones. There was a main passenger compartment and a window into a smaller pilot compartment. The twelve prisoners, two marines, three from this flight, and me, added up to eighteen living souls. I considered Driscoll and his cronies. Correction, eighteen humans. I realized suddenly that the window to the pilot compartment was smeared red with drying blood – on the inside. Any guesses on what happened to the pilots? Correction. Eighteen breathing creatures.
All eighteen were packed into the shuttle like pickles in a jar, and as we walked through the air-sealed hatch, we walked right into a fight. When voices are elevated, tensions rise. When voices are elevated in a space where people are crammed elbow to elbow and hip to hip, it’s worse than tense. Already I was worried that this side of the window was going to end up equally bloody.
“With Maxwell dead, I am in charge,” Mutambi was shouting at Ian and Ch’ng.
They stood side by side with arms crossed over their chests and breath masks dangling.
“There’s twelve of us and only two of you!” Ch’ng responded.
“Numbers don’t count. We are the authorities here.”
“Shut up, the lot of you!” Shumner said, “This is our shuttle and Mister Driscoll will tell you what to do.”
“You are all prisoners of the Blackwatch Empire. As the ranking marine present I am officially taking you into custody and I will ensure your safe return to Major Reynolds at the colony,” Mutambi shouted over what was becoming a din of voices. His face was growing darker and his fists were clenched.
“We’re colonists of Baldric,” Ian said, “And Ch’ng and I represent the colonists.”
There were murmurs of agreement from our original contingent. I wondered how they had got to the point where Ian was the official leader of us all without ever discussing it. Maybe it was a case of any port in a storm.
“You do? You’re in charge here?” Driscoll asked, his normal tone cutting through the much louder shouting.
“Yes,” said Ian, taking a tiny step forward to make his point. Ch’ng moved in to cover his left shoulder, seeming fine with ceding the leadership to Ian.
I was impressed. The McIsaac blood was showing through. Ian had his father’s skills at inspiring a crowd. It was too bad that through Ead’s mistakes - and mine too, let’s not forget – he’d never be a planetary leader like he was born to be.
“Did you see those men in the cockpit?” Driscoll asked. “Go take a look.”
Ian raised an eyebrow in response, not moving.
“They thought they were in charge,” Driscoll said, his face grim.
“Do you see me looking worried?” Ian asked. He rolled one shoulder in a cocky motion that suggested he’d be happy to strike the first blow.
“No,” Driscoll said with a slight smile.
“Well, you should all be worried,” Mutambi broke in. “The Major has ordered us to wait the night here and then resume course for the colony, at which time he will deal out justice where needed.”
I wanted to look away; I was so embarrassed for Mutambi. He’d basically just shot himself in the foot with everyone here.
“The Major’s orders? How did he order you so quickly?” Driscoll hissed. Ian’s eyes narrowed, too, and both were looking at Mutambi with murderous eyes.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you!” Mutambi growled. I studied the ceiling. Man alive, how stupid was he? I guess that’s why he was the lowest rank possible.
Driscoll pulled a sidearm, pointing it at Mutambi’s forehead.
“Easy now,” I said quietly. Somehow it’s always a Matsumoto that has to work these things out.
I leaned a shoulder forward and squeezed my body between them – one tiny sixteen-year-old in between three dangerous men.
“He receives information from Command through his headpiece. This shuttle probably boosts his signal because his software can interface with it.”
Ch’ng’s eyes narrowed as I spoke, and I tried not to frown. Oops. Tipped my hand a bit there. I turned to Mutambi.
“Even with that link, all the rest of his unit and the colony we are heading to are a long way from here.”
My implant map was reading us at almost ninety miles out, but I was already giving too much away without revealing to the whole shuttle that I had an exact map of the planet and knowledge of everyone’s location.
“Besides which,” I turned to Ian, “We are losing numbers rapidly enough to shadows without turning on potential allies.”
The murmurs and voices had lowered – thankfully – but I’d drawn more attention than I would have liked.
“How do you know where Command is?” Private Mutambi asked.
“We were ninety miles out at our crash site. It’s not hard to do the math,” I said. “We’re all marooned here.”
Driscoll cursed.
“We still need to settle on who makes decisions. We won’t get very far with three leaders,” Ian said, with a challenge in his voice. Ch’ng’s eyes were approving. I wondered why he let a man as young as Ian talk for him. Did his background in crime show him things that I couldn’t see?
“No one is following you, colonist,” Mutambi said.
“You’re out-manned and out-gunned,” Driscoll said quietly, and Mutambi’s mouth formed a hard line.
“Then we’re still at an impasse, because none of us trusts you, old man,” Ian said to Driscoll.
Driscoll chuckled.
“This is what they used to call a ‘Mexican stand-off.’”
“What’s a Mexican?” Mutambi asked.
“It means we need another option,” Driscoll said.
Ian looked around.
“I’m only seeing three options here, mister.”
“Then look down,” Driscoll said.
Ian’s eyes found me somewhere at his chest level, still gripping my flesh-ripper.
He cursed.
“Lord, no. She’s already ruined my life once.”
“Mine, too,” said Driscoll, to my surprise. “All the Matsumotos have.”
“Then why her?”
Driscoll shrugged. “None of us trusts her. She’s the odd one out. She won’t be partisan. And if she screws up we’ll just kill her and move on.”
Boy, way to charm a girl. He must have them swooning in every port.
“I can live with that,” Ian said, “If…”
Driscoll cocked his head.
“If I get to be the one to shoot her if she tanks things.”
Driscoll grunted a laugh. “Private Mutambi?”
“I don’t condone the shooting of colonists,” Mutambi said, sticking to the script.
“And about the arrangement?”
“Fine. Just as long as she sticks to what Command orders.”
“Then we have an arrangement,” Driscoll declared.
I could hear people breathing out as if they were trying to cause a carbon dioxide overload in the shuttle filters.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. The burden of command. Just what I never wanted.
“We can’t go outside until light. Sleep if you can. Eat if you want to. We move out first light,” I said.
No one objected, but tension was still in the air. I disentangled myself from the middle of the s
huttle and took up a place near the door, curled around the flechette gun. It made me look weak, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want anyone snatching it. I needed a plan before light. Fortunately, we had a lot of time. There were at least 20 hours of dark left. They would be just super-awesome in a crowded transport shuttle. I wondered if there was a bathroom.
THE SPLITTING: 11
I REVIEWED THE MAP CAREFULLY for the first time since arriving on Baldric. Now that I was semi-responsible for choosing a route I’d need to think carefully. We were in a set of rocky hills. To the southeast was the canyon we crossed with the waterfall. The main group from our crash was to the northeast, separated from us by rough terrain and a wide river.
Actually, now that I looked at it, our splinter group had been just unlucky enough to find the only possible path that would have brought us to where we were currently. There was no other path down into the canyon that I saw, and north of the waterfall the river was fast flowing and deep. There seemed to be no place to cross safely. Lucky us.
The colony was north. A bridge, located a few kilometers south of the colony, was the only place where the others could cross the river. We could meet up with them there.
How big was the colony? There was nothing available in my general databases or the shuttle’s databanks, which I queried. It had a flight path and location, but I already knew the location. It also had detailed colonist files, but those were encoded and locked. It was possible my implant could unlock them, given enough time, but it would only have info on Driscoll, Sammy and Schumner, and I was fairly certain I could figure out those three on my own.
I was still too anxious and nervous to eat although those around me cracked open e-rations and dug in. They smelled extremely unappealing, and this was not my first long stint without food. It would weaken me eventually, but with my nervous personality I’d learned fairly early on that missing food for a few days wouldn’t hurt much.
With the only possible plan decided in my mind, I tried to sleep. Around me others were doing the same, and someone even found a way to dim the shuttle lights. Might as well sleep while we could, not that I was expecting much since it was only a short time since I’d slept last. Amazingly, I drifted off.
The Matsumoto Trilogy: Omnibus Edition Page 31