The Matsumoto Trilogy: Omnibus Edition

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  I bit down on my tongue as I thought about it and tasted blood. After all, who was I to judge? How could I know what had brought her here? Maybe her journey was little different than my own. After all, here I was about to face the leader of the Baldric Shadows and if I were to win, then what? What if there were no marines and my only option was to stay and to lead them? Could I honestly say I’d choose the alternative? I could not.

  I was staring at my past – yes – but also at one possible future. A future I had not realized, but suddenly knew was all too possible.

  I stepped forward.

  “Zeta Matsumoto?” I asked.

  I felt the reply inside my head, jumbled around their woven voices, but her meaning still was clear.

  Zeta...Matsumoto…LEADER…Matsumoto…respect…unity…death…unity…bow. Who is this who asks? Kill. Absorb. Kill.

  Heartwarming.

  “I love what you’ve done with the place,” I said, shrugging my pack off and laying my empty gun on top of it. It was cliché, but someone had to remind her that this battle was not one of my making or choosing.

  Mockery. You will pay. Mockery. Our hearts split. Our people split. Pain. The Splitting. You will die.

  Even as a shadow she was beautiful. She was frozen in time as a woman in her mid-twenties. My height exactly, with clear-cut Matsumoto features, long hair, waving in the wind like a flag, and eyes deep with the velvet black of the shadows. She was entrancing. She flickered in and out of reality, solid, then translucent, and wore a starship skinsuit similar to mine, but a few generations older. In her hand she bore a spear like the other shadows. It was short, and clearly ceremonial, with a bundle of feathers on the end before the spearhead. She set it carefully down on the ground beside her, imitating my movements, and then sank into a fighting stance. It looked like this would be hand-to-hand.

  “I’m not sure if you remember,” I said, sinking into an identical posture, “But before you became Queen of Shadowland you had a daughter. She was five when you left. That daughter was me. Vera Matsumoto.”

  Roman was trying to talk to me, but for once my head was so full of other voices that I couldn’t hear his.

  Daughter. Precious. No more. Bigger than all that. Bigger than family. Bigger than life. The Splitting. They split us. They rend us to shreds. Revenge. Death. We will be a powerful weapon. Absorb all those who can assist. Vera Matsumoto is found to be worthy. Take her soul.

  I couldn’t help but feel hurt, even knowing this was only a shell of what my mother had been. It wasn’t really her at all. That’s what I told myself. It couldn’t be. It was just the shadow that the others saw as their leader, and she was no more human than Rhinric was – maybe less.

  It didn’t help. It felt like I was experiencing the pain of my mother’s death all over again.

  The first blow came with no warning. Well, she might not be ‘mother’ any more, but she was still definitely ‘Matsumoto.’

  She landed a kick to my ankle, but I absorbed the pain of the blow and kicked up my fighting program into high gear. I slashed out with a roundhouse kick and settled back onto my heels as I completed it.

  She made a lunge for me with a quick flurry of punches: jab, uppercut, strike. I blocked her jab, dodged to the left to avoid the uppercut and then grabbed her striking fist and shoved her to the right.

  In the middle of the blow I felt something TUG at my mind. And then, suddenly, I was in the shadow’s mental flow. My body was still fighting because the program worked fine on automatic. Zeta and I flowed from one complex series of attacks to another, more like we were dancing than fighting, but we each were still landing the occasional blow. Except for the bursts of pain, I almost didn’t notice our violent elegance. My mind was preoccupied by a new battle.

  The rush of thoughts was intense and all-consuming. It was like a deftly woven rope of ten thousand tiny strands. They wrapped around and through one another, overlapping and twisting, losing one thread into the embrace of another.

  It was mindboggling and my head hurt from the pain of just deciphering what I was experiencing. Somehow I could ‘see’ the threads, the way I could ‘see’ Roman’s emotions in our channel. And somehow, it was trying to suck my very soul into the flow the way that my conciousness had traded places with Roman’s when Ead’s McIsaac had us prisoner.

  I felt a strong desire to immerse myself in the flow of their shared being, to explore the individual threads and soar in the vortex of their purpose, but I fought it. I understood intuitively the temptation Sammy had faced and how they had eventually absorbed him. Any loss of control now and I would be absorbed, too.

  But how to prevent it? Zeta was fighting my body so hard that I risked being knocked unconscious or debilitated by her actions. If that happened I was certain to be lost and that meant time was limited. By some horrible premonition I knew that once it had me it would not let go. And as I thought that, I realized that I could finally hear individual voices. They were clear, but still hard for me to pick out from the cacophony.

  No one has ever resisted…

  Not long…

  Almost have her…

  Worthy…

  …just submit already.

  …ours…

  I heard them all at once, absorbing layered meanings more quickly than I could think them. They knew I was already theirs. This had happened so many times before that they knew now that it was only a matter of time until they had absorbed me. And then what? Would I turn on Roman and suck him up, too, like vacuuming a beetle on a carpet?

  I shivered and felt a wave of nausea. They wanted me to leave all that I loved. And yet it was tempting to rest in that river of acceptance, because it was clear that they would accept me – that for the first time in a long time there was a whole group of people, if you could call them that, that actually wanted me around.

  They wanted me to abandon my body. What use was a body when you could live a life generations long – maybe even forever long- surrounded by all your friends all the time? They wanted me to leave Roman – and that’s where their siren’s call failed because I could never leave the one who had never voluntarily left me and would gladly give his own life for mine. We’ll absorb you both, they said. Together forever.

  It was tempting. And yet, it rang false. What is life? Is it an endless soul without purpose or responsibility? What ties us to life? Love, surely. But what is love except sacrifice? And the sacrifice I’d been born for was obvious – to lead a revolt to save the people I was responsible for. And through that redemption, to atone for all that had come before: the genocide on Baldric, the injustice done to Ian, the deaths of Roman’s parents, and the betrayal of the citizens of Blackwatch.

  This was my duty. I would not be shaken. All temptation for an existence of ease drifting comfortably on the waves of semi-consciousness evaporated.

  Without reasoning or thought, I followed my instincts. I SEIZED the rope of their collective unconscious. I could feel Zeta’s presence wrapped around it. I slid myself between her and the rope, loosening their bonds, and then I FLEXED. And somehow I twisted that rope inward, so no longer was it sucking me towards it, but I was sucking it towards me.

  Zeta’s shadow form let out a scream as she was physically SUCKED into my shadow. Around me, the nearest shadows stretched and were vacuumed up in a similar way, slowly but inexorably. It seemed to take an agonizingly long time, but one by one they submitted to my will.

  I was not absorbed by the shadows. I absorbed them. Thousands of them. All of them. An army of the dead living within me.

  It was getting crowded in here.

  Zeta was the first to vanish, and I felt her consciousness join mine.

  Vera?

  For a split second she sounded almost like my mother, and then other souls began to pour into my unconscious and her voice vanished in the tumult.

  Mother? Mother!

  It’s just me in the channel, Roman said, but he was wrong.

  The implant let me hear th
em, and they were already so loud I could hardly hear anything else. One by one, his captors faded to insubstantiality and were absorbed by my mind. They rocketed into me like rubber bands snapping. The further away they started, the more forcefully they were drawn to me. Roman shook off the last shadow as it was sucked away and he darted to me, the other marines hard on his heels.

  My head swam with so much sudden input, and my balance quavered. My eyesight was flickering in and out as my brain tried to process too many signals at once.

  Driscoll flew towards me from the other direction. Roman arrived first by a fraction of a second.

  “You?!” Roman exclaimed at the sight of Driscoll.

  Behind him the other marines came to attention, saluting Patrick Driscoll.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Roman demanded, anger and confusion warring in his eyes, as his head whipped back and forth between his fireteam and me.

  “Sorry, Sarge,” one of them said.

  Roman tore his gaze from them and turned to me. I reached for him, but stumbled. He caught me just as I started to fall to the ground. The corded strength of his arms wrapped around me and his breath was hot and close. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to hide in the warmth of his shelter forever.

  “Vera? Stay with me, Vera.” And then, so quiet that I thought I might not have heard it all. “I can’t bear to lose you, too.”

  THE SPLITTING: 34

  I MUST NOT HAVE BEEN passed out for very long because Roman was still gripping me like I was going to fade away like the shadows. He was curled over me, like his very form could protect me from danger. The others crowded around him.

  “She did it. I can’t believe she did it!” That was Kitsano.

  “Be glad she did. I thought we were gone there for a moment,” said Ch’ng.

  “What’s going on here?” Roman asked a marine.

  “We’re Driscoll’s Own,” he said. “Who is she?”

  “Vera Matsumoto. The Emperor’s cousin,” Roman said, almost reverentially.

  “She looks more like a jungle warlord. What’s with the scar?”

  “Have a little respect,” Ch’ng said, “Who cares what she looks like? She saved all our heads just now.”

  “But what’s a Matsumoto doing here?” the marine asked, clearly unable to see when he was beaten.

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?” Driscoll said. “You don’t seem to have many marines left, Mr. Guardian.”

  “Just my fireteam,” Roman said grimly, “But it seems they aren’t mine at all. I never suspected that they were secretly terrorists.”

  “We’re all terrorists, now,” Driscoll said. “You’re the only one here who isn’t sworn to Driscoll’s Own, and I’m guessing you’re sworn to her, which makes you one of us.”

  “I’m Vera Matsumoto’s guardian. I’m not a terrorist or a murderer,” Roman said, flinging a baleful look at his fireteam.

  “Let us explain, Aldrin…” one of them started to say.

  I was listening to it all, and following as I could, but my head was still pounding with the pain of absorbing the entire population of Baldric into my subconscious. I felt new souls drawn in one by one and added to our number. I was just one soul floating on the sea of them all, still living, but that was barely an afterthought.

  The masses of them felt very alive to me. The Javierian minds felt foreign and strange, leaving me ill at ease within my own self. They were nothing compared to my fellow humans. I felt assaulted by their emotions and desires, all raw and bare. I flinched as they whipped me with them, red hot with need for revenge, or an agony of icy despair. I struggled to stay afloat – drowning in my own mind.

  Something tugged from beyond me. Two somethings. I felt them resisting the pull of the collective. Suddenly one broke free and joined the rest.

  Driscoll gasped.

  “What the-” Ch’ng said, his face white and drawn.

  I couldn’t look to see what they were looking at. It was something on the ground.

  “The shadow part of him broke free. He ate too much of Compound VX-7,” Kitsano said, her voice grating, “We need to go-”

  Her voice broke off as she screamed. I felt the other something start to break loose. With a surge of will I pushed back, willing it to stay outside of our whole. I heard Kitsano coughing and gasping as I refused her soul entry. It seemed I had at least that much control over my own mind. Now, if I could just find a way to survive rather than just bob on this morass of minds.

  They were still quarrelling above me, and reacting to the loss of Ch’ng’s friend and what had happened to Kitsano, but I let my eyes fall closed again and I fought within myself for supremacy.

  Somehow my mother had achieved it. Now I must achieve it. I focused, rallying all of my wits and senses under my banner. If this was going to work it would take all of me. I WRAPPED myself around the surge of souls, the way my mother’s soul had been, and tightened like a python. Then I forced it all deeper into the recesses of my mind and jammed a mental wall in place. I forced myself not to notice them or pay them any attention – that was the wall. Gratefully, it was half-working, but I could tell it was weak. One slip. One moment of inattention, and it would be gone again. I’d ‘won’ today, but it seems what I’d won was an eternal battle for my own mind.

  So typical. Any time I won, I just kept losing.

  I opened my eyes with a sigh, and the first thing I saw was Roman’s face. He greeted me with such a look of relief and joy that I almost cried in sympathy. I felt so tired. So tired that it took all of my energy to push away from him and regain my own feet.

  I smiled up at him.

  “Thank you.”

  Always.

  His answering smile was tender and protective and all that I had ever hoped to see. He didn’t seem to notice how I looked like ‘a jungle warlord.’ Even better, I was not dead. I was enjoying this instead, but that state was temporary unless I did the right things now.

  I stood up as steadily as I could, channelling all my mental energy into keeping that wall strong. I needed to think without passing out for this next part.

  “We’ve done it. We’ve beat the odds,” I said, realizing as I spoke that I was gripping the short spear, that my mother had held. I looked down at it, gripping it harder, and ran a hand through the stubble that used to be my hair. Then I looked up at the gathered few that were my army.

  “We’re alive, and Baldric is ours, but it’s not enough. It can’t atone for our fallen, or for the deeds that brought us here.”

  “Are you saying that you want to overthrow Nigel Matsumoto and seize the Empire?” Driscoll asked carefully and formally.

  “I am,” I said. “Someone needs to fix what is broken in Blackwatch.”

  There was a gasp from Roman and a collective sigh from the rest.

  “In that case, I pledge you not only my service, but also the service of Driscoll’s Own,” Patrick said, and he stiffened to attention, like he was in the military. Behind Roman, his fireteam stiffened, too, and more reluctantly Kitsano joined them.

  My eyes widened. I hadn’t expected that. Roman’s face was a mix of emotions.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad they want to support your insane ambitions. I’m just feeling a touch betrayed by my fireteam. We are supposed to be brothers.

  Well, you still can be.

  And I’m not fond of terrorists. I thought if I ever saw Patrick Driscoll it would be through my scope.

  Tell me about it.

  I was very reluctant to trust Driscoll, or to team up with terrorists, but what were our options? If we chose not to work with them, they could betray our plans, or worse, kill us.

  Our plans? Roman asked.

  I didn’t have a chance to discuss it with you, I told him.

  I think maybe you need to take the time.

  Can it wait? I need rest.

  He made a mental sound like an irritated grunt.

  “Thank you for your support,” I told Driscoll and hi
s followers, who were now my followers I supposed. “You marines swore an oath to Blackwatch when you enlisted. You didn’t swear it to the Matsumotos. You didn’t swear it to the government. You swore it to the people of Blackwatch. You said you would defend and protect. I’m standing here telling you that the people of Blackwatch are under a threat so farsighted and insidious that it goes unseen. They are under a threat so pervasive that it will infect and change them all in the next six months if we don’t protect and defend them. You saw the shadows that fought us here. Blackwatch did that. We made them, and that’s the fate of our own people if we don’t do something to prevent that. I’m calling on you to live up to those vows and to help me fight. You might be Driscoll’s people. But if you follow me off this planet you are my people.”

  There were murmurs that sounded like a cautious agreement. It would take more than my words to win them. I turned to Roman.

  “I don’t have much time. The shadows are in my mind and I need to find a way to keep them in place without losing myself. I need somewhere to sleep for a few hours. Can you find me somewhere?”

  I was all business, and he nodded, turning to business himself.

  “Yamamoto, Nakamuri, set up camp on the shuttle side of the bridge. We’ll stop here and rest for a few hours. Brady, walk a perimeter. Make note of any threats and see if there’s a path down to the water to refill our canteens.”

  “I’ll look for the water,” Kitsano volunteered, holding out her arms. “Give over the canteens.”

  I left them to the details, struggling for consciousness, and slowly losing the battle. In the last second before I sunk bonelessly into Roman’s arms, I remembered his words and finally took the time to reply.

  I can’t bear to lose you, either.

  THE SPLITTING: 35