The Matsumoto Trilogy: Omnibus Edition

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  The position of the human victims painted the picture precisely. It looked like it had been a long fighting march for our counterparts. Worse, their numbers had dwindled to the point where both my original group and the rest of the humans from our ruined starship were the same number strong. There was just shy of two dozen humans left below me.

  Usually, I think for myself, but the timing seemed a bit urgent.

  Pick us a least-time, safe route to the inverted carets, I told my implant and then immediately steered Rhinric down the path my implant spat out.

  The path was rocky and steep, but the computer had calculated the angles based on the ability Rhinric had shown so far, and the path was attainable for him. I held on and didn’t look too closely at the height. Heights make me nervous.

  What happened next must have looked strange from the outside. To me, battling just one more obstacle in a series of impossible tasks it seemed like just another thing I survived, but I gathered from what I saw later that it looked rather different on the other end of things. Major Reynolds had his eyepiece set to record and when I found the recording later it looked something like this:

  They were battling impossible odds, losses piling in too rapidly to keep an accurate count. The reinforcements arrived, but brought little in the way of firepower or manpower.

  “This is it?” Reynolds asked Private Mutambi.

  “I’m sorry sir, but it is,” he said, the running battle still taking place behind them.

  They continued to fight, taking heavy losses, their visibility impaired by the fungus towers that kept popping up with every loss.

  Then, from far off they heard a bugling sound.

  “It sounds like those animals from the stampede,” Ch’ng said from nearby. He sounded strained. Even toughened criminals found Baldric upsetting.

  “Good. Maybe they’ll distract the shadows and we can make up some ground,” Fergus muttered.

  They fought on, but now the enemy gave ground. There seemed to be no reason for it. The human line had weakened, but the enemy was being drawn away from them, rather than pressing in.

  “It must be a trap! There’s nothing out here to weaken them but us, and we sure as hell aren’t pressing them!” Fergus said, desperation and confusion warring in his tone.

  “There’s nowhere else to go. Push towards their retreat!” Major Reynolds ordered, and push they did.

  The shadows fell back. Something behind their ranks was slaughtering them.

  “Could it be another stampede?” Ch’ng asked Ian.

  And then something emerged.

  A tiny woman, her long black hair flying like a flag every time she whipped her head back and forth rode on a massive beast built of shadow. He bugled as he ran, smashing into the shadow humans, and pawing them under his feet, a terrifying visage of death.

  The woman was worse. She fired her gun into one alien shadow after another, her fire so precise that each shadow only needed a tiny burst of fire to scatter and dissolve. Their numbers were so great that despite the Rhino-shadow’s aggression some still managed to launch themselves onto her beast. She fought them hand to hand while riding, taking them out with elegant martial arts moves, almost like she was programmed by a computer and not human at all.

  Her fight was over in seconds. Once she and her alien beast had slain almost a hundred shadows, the beast bugled once again and the shadows ran, retreating en masse at her coming.

  “Matsumoto!” someone from beside Reynolds breathed, reverence in his voice.

  “Unlikely,” Reynolds said, but he didn’t sound sure.

  “Did you know she could do that?” Ch’ng asked, his eyebrows battling to reach his hairline.

  “No. But it’s exactly the kind of thing she would do,” Ian replied, sounding proud for some reason.

  “Matsumoto. Matsumoto.”

  The name echoed on tongue after tongue.

  She rode up to the Major, flinging off her mask but holding her nettlegun pointed upwards in a practiced manner.

  The camera wavered, as if he had almost bowed to the woman with the wild hair and commanding eyes, but he restrained himself.

  But that was how the story played out in the recording.

  To me it was more of a flurry of fighting and letting the program direct my aim and my fighting motions. I was surprised and pleased that Rhinric decided to fight with me, feeling a surge of affection for the rhino, and I felt more than a little remorse for every nettle I fired and every being I hit.

  Could I comfort myself that they may not be living, having turned into shadows of what they were? Maybe, but it felt like no comfort to me. I may have broken the taboo against violence enough to commit it, but my heart mourned as I rode up to Major Reynolds and stripped off my mask, nettlegun in my hand.

  The shadows were routed for now, whether because of Rhinric’s defection or to reassess. I knew they would return once they had decided on a new course of action. I had bought my fellow humans a little time, and that was all.

  “Ms. Matsumoto,” Major Reynolds addressed me warily.

  “Major Reynolds.”

  “Are you for us or against us?” he asked.

  “I would hope what I did just now proved I care about the humans on this planet.”

  “That is not the same thing.”

  I shrugged. Was I for them? Not exactly. Was I against them? Not right now. It seemed like my allegiance was rather based on how things went from here.

  “I’d like to keep Rhinric with me,” I said, “He’s a formidable deterrent.”

  Reynolds smiled, but it didn’t look friendly. He aimed his nettlegun at my chest.

  “I know what that whirring means, Ms. Matsumoto. It means you are out of ammo.” I looked at the read-out on the gun. I hadn’t even noticed the whirring. “Get down off that shadow. Hand over the nettlegun and fall in line with the other prisoners.”

  I weighed my options. I really wouldn’t mind dying right now, but if I was reasonable maybe there would still be a time some day when I could resolve some of the things that were bothering me. I complied.

  Rhinric lowered his head and followed me as I placed my gun at Major Reynold’s feet.

  “He seems very attached to you,” Reynolds said, and I glanced behind me at Rhinric, with a slight smile. He was probably my favorite thing - or person for that matter – on this whole planet and I’d only known him an hour, give or take.

  Everything went black.

  THE SPLITTING: 17

  I WOKE WITH A SPLITTING headache in a room I hadn’t been in before. It looked like a command room, like the command deck on a starship or a large military planning room. There were screens with data readouts, maps, and what looked like footage from security cameras. Various data entry stations were located near the screens and five doors dotted the walls. At the center of the room was a large crescent-shaped table with slots for personal data readers. They all looked like they were functioning. After the last few days of schlepping through the jungle in a neo-barbarian state, it felt homey to see some usable technology everywhere.

  That’s where the homey feeling ended. I was behind a force field on a three meter by three meter raised platform. What it was originally for was uncertain, but it was effectively a jail cell for me. My backpack was gone. There was no sign of Rhinric or most of the other prisoners. At the table were marines, and the man I recognized as Dr. Daniels from back on the crashed ship.

  It was a strange place to locate a jail cell, particularly since I could hear everything they said from where I was. It must have been their only option.

  I suppose I could have yelled out, “Where am I?” or “Why did you do this to me?” or even the classic, “Do you really think you’ll get away with this?” but I was too world-weary for that. Besides, I already knew the answers to all those questions. We were at the colony, which was still somewhat intact. They did it because I am a Matsumoto and was acting like one. And yes, they would get away with it.

  I held my tong
ue, settling instead for watching and listening and lying still on the floor where I woke up.

  A small sound made me glance to my right. Patrick Driscoll was beside me, also contained in the “sensitive prisoner area” or whatever this was. His back was to the wall, and he looked fairly comfortable, but his things had also been taken.

  He winked at me, and I shrugged. I pulled myself to a sitting position.

  The marines were eating e-rations. Unlike me, they hadn’t done their research. My belly rumbled painfully and I tried to embrace the pain. It meant I wasn’t being slowly poisoned.

  “So you’re telling me we don’t have any communications to anything outside Baldric?” Reynolds asked a lieutenant beside him.

  She had her short black hair slicked back under her beret. I felt a moment of surprise at seeing another female face.

  “Not unless we make a return journey to the El Dorado and try to route a link manually through there.”

  “Impossible,” Reynolds said with a shake of his head and a sour expression. “Keep trying from here, Lieutenant Minami.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, but her expression betrayed her doubt.

  Establish link with any computers in the area, I ordered my implant.

  Establishing link…

  “Have we encountered anyone on the base yet?”

  “No one, sir.”

  “And no record of where they have gone?”

  “Nothing obvious,” Lieutenant Minami said, “We need time to go through the records thoroughly.”

  “Do it. Someone on this planet caused the crash of our ship. Someone had the ability and wherewithal to do that. I want that person found.”

  “Yes, sir,” Minami said.

  “What do we do about them?” Private Fergus said, motioning to Driscoll and I. I noted there was some respect in his eyes when he looked at me. I hadn’t seen a look like that since Ian swore fealty. It felt…good, I guess. It made me feel warm.

  “I will deal with prisoner interrogation personally,” Major Reynolds said.

  Doctor Daniels frowned.

  “And the others?” Private Fergus asked.

  “We can trust them to know what’s in their best interest, and our numbers are down. Until the situation is stabilized we’ll treat them like recruits and have them help guard the facility. There are a lot of ways in and not all can be permanently sealed.”

  Smart man. Practical. Could I do anything with practical? Maybe.

  “Private Mutambi is supervising the first shift,” Major Reynolds continued, “Private Fergus, you and Private Tsukino will take charge of the other two shifts. Watch our backs as we sort this out. Lieutenant, I need you combing those records for intel. Do it here in the control room so I can contact you if needed. Sergeant Spencer is amassing armaments. Most of the stuff here has been destroyed by the elements. There are some rounds our guns can use, but repair and cannibalization on the weapons is his top priority until we can figure out our exact situation here. We meet back here in three hours. Everyone be prepared to report. Dismissed.”

  They scattered in an orderly and efficient manner – everything you would expect from Blackwatch Marines. Major Reynolds turned his gaze to Dr. Daniels.

  “Any idea on what we’re dealing with out there, Doctor?”

  “Semi-transparent shadows? I don’t know. I need to research more. The Rhino will help. I also took samples from our fallen, and the fungi growing out of their remains. I’ll brief you as soon as I have something.”

  “Perfect.”

  The Doctor picked up the trash from his e-rats and left like the others. I noted that Patrick had eaten some as well, based on the empty wrappers in our little zone. They still smelled appealingly of food and I wondered if my hunger strike was wise. Soon I would start suffering the ill-effects of not eating. I was already feeling irritable from the loss of calories. Maybe I should consider eating the rations, laced or no. I’d think about it.

  Major Reynolds grabbed a pack of e-rats and some water and sauntered over to us. His movements seemed off, like he wasn’t used to walking so casually. My guard went up like a firework on Neal Matsumoto Day.

  He switched off the force field for a moment and placed the supplies in front of me before restarting the field.

  “That was a nice stunt you pulled out there, Ms. Matsumoto, but don’t think I bought it.”

  This time I was actually puzzled. Did he mean saving his command? Was that a ‘stunt?’ Or did he mean one of the other crazy things I’d done since coming here? I would have preferred that he specify.

  “You know why we have you locked up?”

  “Because I’m Vera Matsumoto.”

  “Yes,” he said, leaning in close, so he was almost touching the energy field between us. “But if you mean that I’m somehow respectful of that, then think again. You are a disgrace and a blemish on all I love. I would kill you myself, right now, were it not for the orders of my Emperor. I certainly won’t prevent anyone else from taking your miserable life.”

  “Good to know,” I said.

  “You and the terrorist will be kept here, where you can’t subvert the other prisoners.”

  Interesting.

  “I’ll be back later to question you. I advise you now to be ready to answer me in full.”

  There was nothing to say to that. A recruit would have said, “Yes, sir,” but I was not a recruit. A Matsumoto would have crushed him under her heel, but I was not… only maybe I still was.

  “You have higher priorities than me, Major. Why don’t you take a look at those rations you’ve been slurping down,” I said. It wasn’t crushing, but it was halfway there.

  He glared at me, but I saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes. Honorable Marine Major that he was, he would never give a disgraced Matsumoto any credit, but hopefully he would do his job. He walked away without speaking again.

  “What’s with the rations?” Driscoll asked, his long face wrinkling in thought.

  “Laced,” I replied.

  “With what? If both the soldiers and the prisoners eat them, then what would they be laced with?”

  “I don’t think they were meant for the soldiers, but they are laced with a program that rewrites the brain to try to enable communication with the natives.”

  He grabbed an empty wrapper and started to fiddle with it, like he could absorb the truth from the plastic.

  “It worries me that you’re not saying anything,” I said, focusing all of my attention on every detail of his face. His expression was betraying him even now as his lips firmed.

  “I’m not all that talkative.”

  “Most people would say, ‘No way! A pill can’t do that!’ but you aren’t,” I said.

  His mouth was even tighter.

  “Do your terrorists use these?”

  His forehead relaxed a hair.

  “Or something like these?”

  He tightened right back up, his jaw rigid.

  I was quiet for a moment, and then I said in a low voice, almost a whisper, “Oh, I don’t like the sound of that Mr. Driscoll.”

  I was feeling pretty edgy myself now.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Driscoll said, but tiny movements in his expression told me he wasn’t telling the truth. He had forgotten that we ambassadors are trained to read people – or maybe he never knew. Who knows what terrorists know?

  “It is extremely immoral to re-route people’s brains without their permission.”

  “Neal Matsumoto promised the people a world with a ruling family dedicated to peace,” Driscoll said.

  I blinked. What did that have to do with anything?

  “So, what? You re-route people’s brains to promote peace?”

  “No. I’m just pointing your hypocrisy out,” he said. “Matsumotos are fine with breaking the rules, as long as no one else does.”

  “Yes, we are,” I agreed.

  He had a look of…rapture? No, not quite… on his face.

  “I’ve waited all my life
to hear a Matsumoto admit that.”

  “You heard Reynolds. I’m not a Matsumoto anymore.”

  He waved a hand like that was of no consequence and then pierced me with an intense look. It made me think of Cousin Nigel.

  “Roger Matsumoto issued the death strikes on Taguzuni. 3,319 civilian deaths.

  “Eugenie Matsumoto had 43 civilians ‘rerouted’ to another location as a matter of ‘imperial security.’ They were never found.

  “Hiro Matsumoto wiped out the population of the planet Siro when they refused to submit to Blackwatch.

  “Those are just the ones I can prove. If I show you my records I have a dozen more unconfirmed incidents. Matsumotos have been killing innocents since the day Neal Matsumoto signed that worthless treaty.”

  I felt myself coloring. It’s one thing to accept your family has repudiated you and is made up of hypocrites. It’s another thing to have someone else drag their names through the mud.

  “Don’t even get me started on what they do to their own.” He stuck up a finger for each name as he listed them. “James Matsumoto. Quinton Matsumoto. Carter Matsumoto. Suzuki Matsumoto. Vanessa Matsumoto. Keira Matsumoto. Fletcher Matsumoto. Zeta Matsumoto (that was my mother). Vera Matsumoto.”

  He jabbed at me with his index finger as he said my name and I knocked it aside a little more roughly than I needed to. His eyes narrowed like he’d scored a point.

  “My mother died at the hands of terrorists. Terrorists like you. While defending the Treaty,” I said.

  “That’s what they want you to believe. They’ve told a lot of stories, Vera. Like what they say about you. I saw you die on the news channel. So did everyone else. If Reynolds here decides to torture you slowly over the next few years, no one will ever know, because they already think you are dead.”

  “Shut up,” I said. What it lacked in originality I made up for with passion.

  “Just think about it. You have a lot to pay for. And one way or another I plan to make all Masumotos pay.”