The Matsumoto Trilogy: Omnibus Edition

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  My tension was rising. The shadows should have already been in place. If the ship’s officers returned to their duties it was going to make this a lot more difficult. I had hoped to negotiate with them while everyone was still here. I felt like my opportunity was slipping away, but without the shadows in place we had no fall back position. We needed them to seize the essential structures and systems of the ship if it came to a fight after all.

  I need an ETA, Zeta.

  Five minutes.

  That’s what you said two minutes ago.

  Five minutes.

  If this was how she ran things back on Baldric, then it was no wonder I’d beat her back on that bridge. I felt a growl through the channel and sighed. She wasn’t supposed to have heard that thought.

  THE MATSUMOTO: 4

  THE SHIP’S OFFICERS EXITED THROUGH a hatch and the major turned to us. He loomed over Roman, looking down his hooked nose.

  “Take the prisoners to the brig,” he ordered, nodding to a marine sergeant. “I think I need to remind this one where his loyalties lay, don’t I Sergeant Aldrin?”

  Remind me that when I become Emperor I need to completely overhaul the Blackwatch military, particularly the marine corps, I told Roman.

  I’ll do it for you. Starting with the lovely Major here, Roman agreed.

  The first blow took us both by surprise, but I noticed that Roman’s surprise lasted only a moment. Apparently he was used to being savagely and suddenly beaten. The major’s fists thudded into his torso, first the solar plexus, then a belly shot. Roman didn’t fight back. I didn’t know if that was because he was still acting to buy us time, or if the marine discipline had been drilled so deeply into him that he was incapable of striking a superior officer. His hands were clenched into fists and the muscles in his arms swelled as he held them rigid at his sides.

  In the glare of the boat bay lights it all felt unreal as the major leaned in to strike Roman’s head with blow after blow. Roman lurched and stumbled, blood spraying from smashed lips and splits in the skin of his face.

  It happened so suddenly and so quickly that I didn’t have time for thought. The second the first blow landed I felt something snap in my mind. Not Roman, was all I could think. No one was allowed to do this to him.

  By the second blow I had my Tactical Interface fully online, and this time not for communications. I could feel Roman’s pain through our link. At the third blow I spun around, crushing the marine closest to me with a roundhouse kick to the jaw. My spin carried me forward and into the reach of a second marine. He turned to look at me, but he wasn’t fast enough. My uppercut and jab fell in perfect time with the two Roman received from the major, and then my path was clear, and I snap-kicked the major’s knee, following it up with a vicious stomp to his instep.

  What are you… Roman began, but then like a bursting dam the rest of the marines shook off their shock and threw themselves into the fight. Roman pulled out of his own shock and spun, kicking out at an approaching enemy in an identical uniform.

  My attention was fixed on the major. I landed an elbow to his ribs and a second stomp to his instep. He cursed as he shoved me and I stumbled back, spinning and ducking under his quick follow-up blow.

  The small craft bay was a mass of bodies. Ch’ng and Driscoll responded to the surprise of the attack, flinging themselves into the fray. Roman’s fireteam moved to cover his back, their own fighting showing the coordination of those who have spent many hours drilling together. I had been worried they would turn on us if it came to fighting their own, but I was wrong. They formed up between Roman and Driscoll, proving their loyalty with every blow they delivered. They were pressed hard by their brother marines and Yamamoto fell as someone whipped out a nettlegun and fired.

  “Not in here, you fool, or you’ll kill us all!” someone yelled, but it was too late for Yamamoto lying prone and shaking. Brady stood over him, fending off attackers, and Kitsano stood with her back to Brady, but I couldn’t see Driscoll and Ch’ng had fallen to the deck beside the marines.

  The Tactical Interface converted me into a fighting savant. My reactions were quicker than I could have dreamed without it, and my body responded in part to my own will, but mostly to the urgent threat assessment of the program. I had wondered if fighting shadows was different than fighting humans. I had my answer now. With every landed blow, grunt of pain and splatter of blood I flinched inside. Since the program was doing most of the work that left me free to consider how this violence was staining my soul like red ink dropped into a bucket of water. It felt hideously wrong.

  My fist slammed into the Major’s nose with a crack. Blood burst from his nose, and as his body twisted back my spin kick connected with the side of his head. He slumped to the ground, motionless. I froze, staring at his fallen body, a wave of guilt rocking me so hard that I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t… It was like someone hit a pause button on me.

  Two other marines closed in, circling me. They were out of the reach of anyone else. My fighting had maneuvered me off to the side of our little group and I had been cut off, like the weak member of the herd. I looked up, the horror of what I felt splashed across my face. The big marine was in his thirties with a grizzly scar on his chin. He pounced lightning fast and the Interface moved my arms and legs even as my mind protested against the violence. Something inside me was screaming in denial, at the same moment that the Interface identified a weak point and struck. The edge of my hand hit him perfectly in the throat. He gasped, choking as he tried without success to draw air through his crushed windpipe. His eyes showed two things as the life left them - fear and regret.

  Fear overwhelmed me, but I didn’t know how to stop. I blinked.

  I was looking at myself from across the room. My hands and feet blurred as they fought. Had I just…? Yes. I was in Roman’s body. His opponent stretched out on the ground before him, stunned or dead. His breath was ragged in his chest and his face blossomed with pain from the beating he took before I broke my own promise and attacked.

  Oh shoot. He was going to be really mad now.

  Beside me Ch’ng was clutching a leg and cursing. I reached down and pulled him back up to his feet. I snapped back into my own body just as suddenly as I had snapped into Roman’s. Roman had dispatched my other opponent while I was distracted.

  Well…that was unpleasant, he said.

  Shame overwhelmed me. Could I ever look in a mirror again? I looked down at my hands. My knuckles were pulped. Tiny pieces of skin hung off them raggedly. I didn’t know if the blood was all mine. I scrubbed my battered hands through my hair.

  Where in the galactic hells are you, Zeta? I said, venting my roiling emotions on her. And bear in mind that if you say five minutes I will absorb you and never let you out again.

  Driscoll tried to pull himself up from a scrambling fight on the ground, only to be laid out by a fist. Kitsano dove after him, landing a half-dozen blows to the back of his opponent.

  We’re in place…now. Now. Activate? Zeta said.

  Yes, you should damn well activate!

  I was really rattled. I didn’t usually swear.

  “They’re activating,” I announced to the room, realizing that only our people were still standing. Yamamoto was down, but Brady was working on him. Kitsano hauled Driscoll back onto his feet and Ch’ng was limping but walking. “We need to catch up to Captain Sato.”

  “And tell him what? That we plan to take over his ship?” Driscoll asked. “The chance for negotiations ended when you decided to start killing people. Which, I might add, would have worked a lot better if you’d let us plan for it and allowed us to bring weapons.”

  “Granted,” I agreed, flexing my hand irritably. The smell of blood was in the air, and my stomach lurched with every breath of it I inhaled.

  “Well…alright then?” he said, confusion dominating his tone.

  “If you want flowery apologies or explanations would you mind if we covered them a little later? We have a starship
to hijack.” As usual, I covered my intense embarrassment and shame with abruptness. “Or have you decided to go back on your oath of fealty?”

  A dark look passed over Driscoll’s face, but he took an obvious breath and then said, “I gave the oath. It’s good for life. So let’s just get on with this.”

  He pushed past me into the lift, Ch’ng hard on his heels. Great, Vera, just great. You have two friends in the world, and you’ve managed to make both of them angry in the space of ten minutes.

  Roman spoke quietly to Nakamuri and Brady and then joined us inside the lift.

  “They’ll hold the boat bay and take care of Yamamoto,” he said aloud before Driscoll pushed the lift button.

  I’m not angry, he sent through the channel. Just worried.

  Because we shifted bodies again?

  In part. But right now I’m a touch more worried about what’s going on in your head, Vera. You need to pull yourself together.

  Tell me about it. As usual, there was no time for introspection or licking my wounds.

  We’ve got a problem, Zeta said through the link.

  THE MATSUMOTO: 5

  TALK TO ME, I SAID to Zeta. Dalinoro and Fretzler started talking at the same time, but I forestalled them. Let’s make this less confusing. Just you, Zeta. Or have you forgotten that you are the real leader here?

  That barb had stung more than I realized. I was well aware that I was not a natural leader. Ian had been that, but I was going to have to learn to be better at leading if I wanted to lead the entire Empire.

  “Are we going to admit that we are planning to fight this time?” Driscoll asked casually, checking the readout on the nettle gun he’d taken off a fallen marine. Ch’ng raised an eyebrow in agreement, carefully balancing a pair of stolen sidearms in his own grip. Everyone but me, even Roman, had gone ahead and armed themselves. I wondered why the marines in the boat bay hadn’t opened fire. Was it just shock, or did they know something we didn’t?

  “Yes,” I said, but the word was bitter on my tongue. “Why didn’t they use those on us?”

  “Standard ship protocol. Not everything responds well to nettles,” Roman said aloud, as he watched the control screen for the lift.

  We have Engineering suppressed. Navigation is in hand. Life support, check. The problem areas are the bridge and the morgue. Both have emergency lock outs. The morgue has been activated. They have a group of marines holed up in there. There was a miscommunication about the bridge. We have no one there.

  No one?! That’s quite the miscommunication.

  We’re working to rectify it.

  We’re headed there now. You can back us up. Leave the morgue for now. We’ll deal with that after.

  “The shadows have run into trouble,” I said, wishing now that I’d grabbed a gun. Roman handed me a small firearm wordlessly. I double blinked. Sometimes it still surprised me when he read my thoughts.. He smiled slightly.

  “Trouble?” Ch’ng asked.

  “They failed to take the bridge and Morgue. Emergency lockouts are in place.”

  “Morgue? Who cares about dead people?” Ch’ng asked.

  “On a starship the morgue is weapons storage,” Driscoll said with a frown.

  “Well, that’s not very welcoming of them,” Ch’ng said. His grin was anything but friendly.

  “Let’s try to limit casualties because we don’t know who has the lockout codes,” I said.

  “I seem to recall that it wasn’t us that started things back there. If you’re worried that someone might start attacking people then maybe you should remind yourself,” Driscoll said. He was still sour as wine vinegar.

  I didn’t respond. Responding when goaded had already put me in a jam.

  Why did you change your mind on the violence? Roman asked as the lift doors opened to the bridge.

  You’re a weakness of mine.

  The emotions I received back from him were too muddled to sort out. A mixture of pleasure and apprehension stood out most strongly.

  Weaknesses will get you killed.

  Didn’t you hear? I’ve already been killed, I said, pushing to the front of the lift and taking the first step out of the doors.

  Roman tsked aloud, jamming himself against my back as if that would protect me as I stepped out to the chaos beyond the doors.

  The standard coolness and low lighting of the bridge raised goosebumps on my arms. In the center of the bridge, the huge holo-tank lit the faces of the officers surrounding it in blues and greens. Displayed in the holo-image was The Cardinal’s Blood with Baldric in the background.

  “What do you mean Engineering is not responding?” Captain Sato barked at a hapless lieutenant in front of him.

  “They aren’t responding through primary or secondary channels. It must be a technical malfunction.” He looked young and frightened. Captain Sato must not be an easy man to serve under.

  “I’m getting a strange report from the morgue. They’re saying something about locking themselves in because of shadows?” a petty officer reported from the communications station.

  “What?” Sato started to ask, and then he noticed me. The blood from his face drained, but he had to ask the obligatory question. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ll be needing your ship, Captain,” I said calmly, keeping my face still. I hid my bloody knuckles behind my back instinctually.

  “Everyone just stay calm now,” Driscoll said to my right, his nettlegun aimed casually at the officers on the bridge. To my right Ch’ng held a sidearm to the head of a marine rating – likely the one assigned to guard the door. He hadn’t done his job very well. I was starting to think that Sato had been promoted past his level of competence.

  “And what? No one gets hurt?” Sato asked, “This is the real world, colonist, not some sort of entertainment drama.”

  “I didn’t say no one would get hurt,” Driscoll said in a dead tone. “Now if you’d all step nicely away from your stations, that would be the right move for your continued vitality.”

  He’s going to resist, Zeta advised.

  Likely true, I agreed.

  Release your hold only a little and any shadows you release I will guide to victory.

  I hesitated.

  “If you think any of you will live when I’ve finished with you, you have never heard of Captain Lewis Sato,” Sato said. “Or, for that matter, of the S.S. Guideway. There are legends about what I did to those people. I will make new legends with what I’ll do to you.”

  He was serious. I saw Ch’ng and Driscoll tighten their grips on their guns. Beside me I felt, more than saw, Roman tensing, too. There would be more death. Unless I could think of another way.

  Fine. But try not to kill, just incapacitate.

  “This is your last chance for surrender,” I said as calmly as I could with thousands of shadows vibrating within me.

  “Don’t think you can threaten me just because you wear a Matsumoto face,” Sato replied.

  “I wish you’d said, ‘You and what army,’” I said, coolly, “Because I really wanted to say ‘this one.’”

  I spread my hands to either side, arms and fingers flung wide, and the shadows spilled out of my mind and into my own shadow, popping free and bursting to life as quickly as soap bubbles forming in a kitchen sink. They formed so quickly and fully that the officers on the bridge barely had time to gasp before they were outnumbered by blank-faced humans and Javierians, standing stoically throughout the spaces between them.

  One officer lunged towards the shadows. They turned on him so suddenly that I didn’t have time to gasp. He was blocked from my view by a surging mass of dark, and then, like the raising of a flag, a yellow fungus shot up from his location hitting the ceiling and branching across it until it stopped growing with the same suddenness that it began. The shadows separated to show their ghastly work and a collective gasp broke from the mouths of the living.

  “We surrender,” Sato squeaked, his hands outspread. “Unconditionally.”

/>   I thought I said no killing, I sent to Zeta.

  You said to try not to kill. We tried.

  Remind me to make my orders more specific in the future.

  My head ached.

  As you request.

  THE MATSUMOTO: 6

  “TAKE CONTROL OF THE SHIP, Driscoll,” I ordered. He was going to do it anyways and I was sick of him making me look like a fool when he did.

  Driscoll appeared satisfied. Already his eyes were roving around the sleek lines of the bridge stations and holotanks. A look of hunger filled his eyes, and a small smile played across his lips.

  He waved a hand, “Ch’ng, take the prisoners to the boat bay. The Javierians will back you up.”

  I nodded to Zeta who started calling off names in our mental channel. A group of ten flanked Ch’ng, ready to help. He looked far more nervous about them than he did about the group he was escorting below decks.

  “Join up with the rest of Driscoll’s Own. We’ll assemble the ship’s company there,” he continued.

  “The shadows control the vital areas of the ship, but they will need human assistance to escort the prisoners to the boat bay,” I said.

  “Kitsano, take it deck by deck and handle the communications and prisoner escort. Can she have back up, too?” Driscoll asked.

  I nodded, and Zeta again pared off a group for escort duty. Kitsano’s arms were crossed, and her face was unreadable. I knew she could hear the shadows, although she acted as if she couldn’t. Maybe she’d thought that if she escaped Baldric she could escape them.

  “I’ll need a few moments here to settle things down and then I’ll need about a half hour on the shuttles,” Driscoll said, looking at me with a question in his eyes. He seemed reluctant to tear himself away from the main holo, one of his hands had already dipped in it and was swirling within like he just couldn’t keep from touching it.

  “Then be about it and we’ll meet in the boat bay when all the prisoners are rounded up and contained,” I agreed.

  “What about the morgue?” he asked. “They still have a group holed up in there.”