“Matsumoto! You’d better get in here,” Kitsano called from inside the shuttle.
I broke off my last look at the deadly totems of Baldric, and hustled into the shuttle. I was the last in, and I pulled the hatch closed behind me. Roman waved me off and secured the hatch while I squeezed into the cockpit. I felt warm inside at the glance he sent my way.
We’ll talk as soon as we get the chance, I promised him via our implants as I passed.
His half-smile assured me that he understood. Don’t forget, my shuttle, my rules.
Rules?
No spitting. No swearing. No ignoring your guardian’s requests.
Fair enough. I smirked, wondering what might fall under the category ‘requests.’
Driscoll was already at the controls flicking his fingers over the touch navigation pad. Kitsano had an arm elbow-deep into a holo-manipulator, and with singular concentration she was twiddling the projection at Driscoll’s instruction.
“What do you need?” I started, but then changed it to, “Does no one else know how to fly a shuttle?”
“No,” Driscoll replied, in a distracted tone. “I told you that in time you would need me, and this is only the beginning.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re sworn to me,” I reminded him.
He fiddled with the communications screen before looking up at me. “You’d better call your pet marine to the front. They’re wondering what we’re up to.”
“Call him a pet again and we’ll live without your expertise,” I lied.
If he calls me pet again he won’t live, period.
Driscoll grunted, but Roman was already behind me, his hands slid across my waist as he squeezed past and slipped into the dedicated com chair to call up the display. I saw him subvocalizing. His marine helmet must have linked up directly. I wished I could hear what he was saying, but he was right to keep it subvocalized. The last thing we wanted was for the ship to start picking up background chatter, and the cockpit was full of noise. A careless word and they might suspect that we weren’t exactly what we seemed.
The shuttle was pretty large for the few of us who had survived. Low and sleek, she was primarily a troop deployment bird, and the number of bare seats and harnesses in the main compartment suggested she would hold a squad plus equipment. The cockpit was much more compact, but there was seating for five; a pilot, co-pilot, com officer, gunner, and navigation specialist.
I was sitting in the navigation chair. My implant was trying to translate the screen for me with the Tactical Interface, but I wasn’t paying much attention to that. The irony of my seat was not lost on me. From here on in I was navigating all the way. It was a first step in a long journey to seize what wasn’t mine...yet.
Exactly how did a teenage girl go about stealing an empire? I was about to mentally say “sixteen-year-old girl” but I stuttered over my age, remembering that I had been in cryogenic sleep a lot longer than I thought.
I queried my implant for the date. I’d missed my seventeenth birthday… eleven and a half months ago. That made me angry. You hear people accuse others of stealing their lives. Almost a year of my life had actually been stolen – erased forever. Is that how it worked? Would I just live a year longer, since technically my body was still sixteen? Or was it? I mean, it had been in stasis, but it had still been alive and degenerating. I felt sick. Someone had stolen an entire year that was mine.
No, not someone. Nigel Matsumoto.
I looked up at the navigation screen with fire in my eyes.
“Vera?” Roman said, trying to catch my eye.
Forget second guessing. It was time to step up and take my year back…plus a tad bit more for pain and suffering.
“You called?” I asked, trying to keep the rage from my voice.
Roman’s eyebrows lifted, but he kept his tone mild and on task.
“Captain Sato wants to know our ETA to Cardinal’s Blood.”
I nodded to Driscoll.
“Launch in five minutes, rendezvous in twenty-seven-point-niner minutes,” Driscoll said, in a cool, professional tone that I’d never heard from him before.
Roman repeated it back to Captain Sato and then turned to me.
“He’s demanding a list of passengers.”
“Keep it vague. When we get there we want him to be surprised. Remember,” I said, turning to Driscoll and Ch’ng, who had slipped into the gunner’s chair, “I don’t want any killing. If we have to fight, we aim to injure, not kill. I don’t care how you terrorists usually do things, but I don’t want to kill Blackwatch citizens.”
Kitsano’s laugh was derisive.
“Good luck starting a civil war without casualties,” she said.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Zeta’s thoughts cut through mine.
We need to talk about Driscoll.
“Since you bring it up,” Driscoll said, dropping his hands from the touchscreens and turning to me, “I should perhaps mention that you have the wrong perspective about Driscoll’s Own.”
I thought there was really only one perspective on terrorists, Roman said through the channel.
Unless you are one, I suppose, I said.
“Yes?” I asked Driscoll.
“We didn’t call ourselves terrorists,” Driscoll said. “It was the Matsumotos that called us that.”
I sighed. Driscoll was an ally, and a sworn liege-man. I had to be careful how I did this.
“You killed my cousin Denise,” I said, allowing a smidgen of my sorrow into my tone.
“I didn’t kill your cousin,” Driscoll said, and he sounded sincere.
Driscoll’s Own did, Roman chimed in. His own distrust and anger ran thick through the channel. And not just her, but as many Matsumotos as they could get their hands on. We think they all are dead, except for you and the Emperor.
“In my mind, giving the order is the same thing,” I said, trying to keep my tone gentle. “I understand your animosity, but I want to be clear. That ends now.”
Some of them were children. Children. Roman’s emotions were laced red with rage and in an odd burst his actual thoughts came through again. How can she trust him, no matter what he swore? She shouldn’t. He deserves to stay on this planet. I shouldn’t have let her bring him. This is all wrong!
Easy, tiger. I said to Roman, reaching across to gently lay a hand on his knee. He double-blinked, realizing I could hear his thoughts. I’ll explain everything soon, okay?
He flashed a color coded assent and I breathed a quick sigh of relief. I needed everyone focused now that we were heading into the thick of it.
“Launch in two minutes,” Kitsano reminded from the co-pilot’s chair. I was uncomfortably aware that while she could count the launch down Driscoll was the only human we had who could fly the bird.
You need to listen to me…to us, Zeta broke in. The voices in my head were never patient. Regardless, I needed to sort Driscoll out first. It was hard to think amidst so many voices.
“You aren’t hearing me, Vera,” Driscoll said. His face flushed as he spoke and strong emotion burned behind his eyes. It was partly that blazing look I’d been seeing so often, but also partly something else. There was enough fury in this shuttle right now to replace her fusion reactor. “I didn’t kill your cousin. I didn’t order her killed.”
Oh really? They just magically died? Roman was quivering in his chair despite my reassuring touch. I guess he couldn’t wait for my explanation after all. I hoped he wasn’t accidentally subvocalizing, or Captain Sato’s com officer would be getting quite the earful.
You saw them, didn’t you? I asked. The children?
He turned so I could see his eyes. The unshed tears in them, glistening extra-large and bright reminded me that he was barely out of childhood himself. They were all the confirmation I needed.
“Thirty seconds to launch,” Kitsano said, in the tone of a parent to misbehaving children. She was looking more solid here in the shuttle than I’d ever seen her.
Driscoll eru
pted from his seat so suddenly that Ch’ng flinched out of the way. He filled the small cockpit. Roman lunged to his feet beside me, but he was too late.
Driscoll took a step, seized me by the collar, and lifted me to my feet, his face inches from mine. Adrenaline jabbed my heart into overdrive and I fought to control my breath and remain calm. I was no fool, though. I booted the Tactical Interface.
“I swore to you, Vera. I swore. And none of this is going to work if you don’t believe me,” he said, inches from my face. Roman looked like he was going to attack.
Don’t, I said to him, Not yet.
Driscoll’s tone turned to pleading. “Please, Vera. I need you to believe. We are not terrorists. Yes, we are freedom fighters, but not terrorists. I can’t explain right now, but you need to know. Think, Vera! If we didn’t kill the Matsumotos – and I’m telling you we didn’t! – then who did?”
My eyes narrowed in concentration and Driscoll began to nod.
“Exactly,” he said, though I hadn’t voiced my answer. He put me down, looking slightly chagrined. His fists flexing and unflexing for a moment and his eyes on the floor and then on my face, and then back on the floor like he wanted to apologize, but couldn’t. Then he shook himself and sat back down in his seat, clipping the five-point harness back together and nodding to Kitsano.
“Clear for takeoff?”
“All clear” she acknowledged.
“Then all passengers prepare for takeoff in five…”
Who killed them if it wasn’t Driscoll? We had solid evidence it was his organization, Roman said, fury still lacing his thoughts.
“…four…”
Evidence provided by who?
Imperial investigators.
“…three…”
The government, I confirmed. I knew what Driscoll was saying.
So what?
“…two…”
So, who would kill us if not Driscoll?
A foreign power?
“…one…”
Then why make it look like terrorists? I asked, only to answer my own question. Because it was him. Nigel Matsumoto.
“…launching now!”
The shuttle took off at a sharp angle, throwing us back in our seats, the in-atmosphere rotors whining as they grabbed the air to fling us towards the heavens. From the viewport beside me the wreck of The El Dorado shrank to a gnat and the horrible chartreuse pillars shrank with it until the planet became an amethyst jewel, heart-piercing in its glory, set against a velvet backdrop.
You really should listen, Vera Matsumoto, my mother chastised in my mind.
This is not the time. What could you possibly know about Patrick Driscoll? You’ve been out of circulation for twelve years, I snapped, frustrated and taking it out on one of the people who couldn’t get away from me any more than I could get away from her.
Patrick Driscoll is your father.
My gasp was loud enough that the whole cockpit heard it.
THE MATSUMOTO: 2
THIS JUST KEEPS GETTING BETTER and better. I used to think that the worst part of my life was that my parents were dead. Now I was starting to wonder if the worst thing had actually been that they didn’t die. Hi, I’m Vera Matsumoto. My mother is a shadow jungle warlord and my father is a terrorist. Don’t ask. It’s a long story.
Are you ok? Roman’s tone sounded like someone trying to negotiate with a suicidal teen.
Did you catch that?
I caught the freak out, but not the cause.
Exactly how much do you love me? I asked wryly.
A complicated tangle of emotions rushed from him into me and I clamped down hard on my own mind to keep it from damage. I’d never felt anything so strong in the channel. It threatened to slag the implant. Despite that, it was far from clear. Love and loyalty were uppermost, but bittersweet sadness, fear and discomfort swirled around them.
As much as I possibly can.
I drew in a deep breath, savoring the comfort of those thoughts while I breathed in the last scent of wild Baldric.
In that case I hope this doesn’t change things, I said, only half teasing. It turns out that Patrick Driscoll is my father.
How…?
The usual way, I assume.
Something was tugging at a memory. I rolled my head back and forth, stretching my neck and trying to remember what was triggering a feeling of déjà vu.
I hate that man, Roman said bitterly, rage boiled just under the surface of his thoughts. And I don’t like this plan.
It’s the only one I have.
I just got you back and now you want to waltz into danger. Plus, I just don’t trust Driscoll’s Own. Until a few hours ago they were killing everyone we considered friends. I don’t whipsaw like you do, giving people extra chances, or suddenly seeing things from a new perspective. When I make someone my enemy, they are my enemy forever.
I know.
His misgivings were valid. Was I wrong to be doing this? Would seizing the Empire really do any good? What was that quote about revolutions? Something about how they just keep coming around again. Here comes the new boss, just the same as the old boss. Was that it?
I forced those thoughts away. This was the only tenable path I could see. What was the alternative? Living in the jungles of Baldric, haunted by the ghosts in my head until the food turned me into one of them? Someone needed to turn the air conditioner on in here.
I could live in the jungle with you, Roman said. I read a story once about a man named Tarzan. You’d probably like him. He was like me. Strong. Capable. The ladies swooned over him…
I guess my motives weren’t as altruistic as I was pretending. Like every other decision in my life, what it came down to was responsibility. I needed to do this to meet my responsibilities. I needed Patrick Driscoll in order to succeed.
I’ll watch your back so that your so-called allies don’t decide to eat you.
I felt all warm inside at the mental image of Roman fending off a pack of hungry lions.
The memory that had eluded me, the one that had seemed to be important, surfaced inside my mind. It was of that glow in Patrick Driscoll’s eyes when he looked at me. Could it have been…pride? Absurd.
I shook my head hard to try to dislodge the questions that bubbled up as fast as thought.
“Time to rendezvous?” I asked. It felt strange to be travelling in a shuttle again. I thought I’d never live to travel in vacuum again.
“ETA is approximately twenty-four minutes,” Kitsano said promptly.
Why don’t you ever speak to me with your mind? I asked her.
Please don’t. I saw her shoulders tense in front of me. I don’t want to be reminded of what I am. I just want to…go.
One of her shoulders twitched as I paused, trying to think of what to say. In the end I decided to leave her alone. I would honor her request.
“Well then if you’ll all excuse me, I need to consult the spirits,” I said.
“They’re going to help, right?” Ch’ng asked, tugging at the lobe of one ear. “Because without them this whole thing blows up in our faces. You know that right?”
Great. Because I wasn’t on edge enough, now I have to deal with his abundance of nerves, too.
“She knows,” Roman said quietly from beside me.
He might not like what we were beginning, but he was with me. I sighed mentally, resting for half of an instant in that steady loyalty. It was like a wall in a storm. I tried not to think of how his loyalty had shifted last time, almost as soon as he thought I was dead. There were a lot of things that I was going to need to work through later.
I settled back into my seat and allowed my thoughts to turn inwards. I cringed as my focus cleared and I could see the hordes within queuing up for a piece of my attention.
“He’s your father,” Zeta said right off the bat, but the rest of them were all talking over her, angrily and insistently. Zeta crossed her arms, held her chin high, and glared at me.
I tried to force them into si
lence mentally, but I failed. I used to turn inward in the quiet moments of my life and meditate. There was no quiet in my core anymore, only this loud mass of souls desperate for their final end. I was supposed to bring that. Because when you’re just shy of eighteen and trying to topple an empire you can’t expect that to be enough for people. You need to add some extra credit work in there for good measure.
I drew a deep breath and spoke. No one could hear me. I tried again, this time forcing all my strength of will behind my voice. I felt like a child with these people – for more reasons than just that I was the child of one of them.
“You promised to come when I called. You promised to help me topple the Matsumotos. I’m asking you to help me in just a few minutes,” I tried to yell above the cacophony.
Dalinoro made calming gestures with his hands and the shouting faded low enough for me to hear his raised voice.
“You will release us to aid you?”
“For now. Some of you,” I agreed.
“Which ones?” Zeta asked,scowling. I knew she wanted one to be her.
“Whoever has experience running a starship. Engineers. Pilots. Navigators. Technicians. Anyone else who has served on one. And maybe a few others to lend aid in the capture of the ship we are headed towards.” I fingered the broken spearhead in my hand. It was a talisman of my authority.
“You have no experience controlling us in our shadow forms,” Yokiro said, “You will not be able to control our movements with the precision you will need.”
I could do that? Maybe I should have let them give me their lecture before leaving the planet.
“I’ll have to rely on your good will and understanding then,” I said, groaning internally as I said it. The Javierians were low on both.
“Freedom to go as we like?” Caradand asked, a little too eagerly.
“Not as you like. As I direct,” I said, a little more forcefully. “And remember how you said you would make me suffer if I didn’t agree to your little pact? Well, that must go both ways. I can make you suffer, too. Besides, it will be your first chance to work towards a real revenge against the people who did this to you.” Carrot and stick. I was turning their own strategies back on them.
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