The Matsumoto Trilogy: Omnibus Edition

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  “Will you try it our way? Will you at least meet The Hand?” he asked, carefully. His expression was guarded. I could tell he was trying to act casually about something that mattered to him enormously.

  Don’t do it.

  I have to. It’s my best play. Or do you have a better plan?

  “I’ll meet them,” I agreed, and he let out a long breath. “You should get some sleep. Can I do whatever it is you are waiting to do?”

  “Sure,” he agreed, quickly explaining the inputs and what to watch for.

  I was surprised that he agreed to go to bed so easily, especially now that I’d revealed that I knew who he was. There were no touching speeches or awkward hugs. My parents were real gems in the affection department. Almost made me miss the other Matsumotos. Almost.

  He’s using you, was Roman’s explanation.

  Maybe he was right. He usually was, but I thought that this time there might be more to it.

  Vera, Vera, always willing to suspend judgement.

  Maybe, I agreed, But not forever. One day I will call in my debts.

  There was a wordless murmur of approval in the channel.

  The rest of the day was spent preparing to leave. We couldn’t spend too much time sleeping, but we all needed as much as we could get after our time on Baldric, and I needed food after my self-imposed fasting. Food was one thing that the shadows didn’t do, but the staples were all available in the galley, and most of the cooking was automated. Fortunately, Driscoll’s Own tossed coins and Brady lost, so he was cooking for the voyage. Everyone’s wounds had been tended to, and only Yamamoto was too injured to function. Nakamuri was assigned to attend him, but it wasn’t looking hopeful. Each one of us left had taken on a part of the ship that required human supervision.

  My job was to work as a translator and interface for the shadows. I spent most of my time beside the damage control console on the bridge, since it had the best access to in-ship communications.

  The shadows had been over everything on the ship and declared it ready to sail. They’d also double checked to be sure we hadn’t missed any crew. There was no one stowing away.

  I reviewed the sensor readings to be sure that the shuttle we sent our prisoners in had exploded, as it was meant to. Everything looked right. We were ready for the next leg of the journey.

  Roman was a quasi-hero to everyone, as he’d hacked into the clothing generator. He said it was a common trick the marines knew, but I thought that maybe he was just being modest. As a result we’d been able to order clothing in the designs we preferred. We had to utilize the cloth available in ship’s stores, so our options were the blacks, whites, greys and blues of Fleet and Marine uniforms, but it felt nice to be back in clothing that wasn’t one-size-fits-someone.

  Roman grinned ear to ear when he saw me step out of the first mate’s cabin. I’d chosen a fitted pair of slacks in charcoal and a filmy white shirt. I felt feminine for the first time since Capricornia. I guess he liked seeing me looking more like myself. It was nice to feel him back to his old self for a few minutes as he enjoyed the view.

  We were the only two up on the deck when Ch’ng wandered in. He’d been assigned Engineering to supervise, and he seemed to know his way around technical fields, which was a bit of a relief. Unfortunately I couldn’t forget the summary of his convictions. One had been for human trafficking. Roman got all huffy and agitated if they were in the same room together.

  Ch’ng looked all around the room, like he wanted to know if we were alone, and when he saw it was just Roman and I he wandered over to where we were and sat casually beside me.

  “Got something on your mind, Ch’ng?” I asked.

  Like maybe a need to confess to crimes you’ve committed? Roman chimed in.

  “I saw what you did on Baldric, and I respect it,” he began. “Plus there was that whole thing with Ian.”

  What whole thing with Ian?

  “You know,” Ch’ng continued, “How he died.”

  How did he die? Roman asked.

  I nodded, and Ch’ng and I both looked at our feet like someone had asked for a moment of silence.

  “I just want you to know that it wasn’t personal when I signed up with Driscoll’s Own,” Ch’ng said.

  How did he die?

  “And I’m behind you, and I want to help. It’s not easy to smuggle a ship this size through to another planet. There will be searches conducted, and paperwork, and inspections.”

  Vera?!

  Jumping in front of a nettlegun to save my life.

  Oh.

  “Anyways. I get that you never liked me because of, well, everything. But I’m offering you my contacts to get us through to Nightshade. Just ask if you want the help, okay?”

  “Thanks, Ch’ng,” I said. “I appreciate the offer. And I’ll let you know.”

  He nodded and left, looking embarrassed. Roman was still glued in place, a look of surprise on his face.

  “I didn’t know he had it in him to be a hero,” he said.

  “Neither of you ever understood the other,” I said with a sigh.

  “Well,” Roman said, coughing and blushing, “I respect that, and I’m grateful. I’ll lay off of Ian.”

  After all, he said in the link, there’s still Driscoll to despise.

  Despise all you want, but please let me handle him. He’s my problem.

  Roman waggled his eyebrows.

  He doesn’t have to be….

  I ignored him. It didn’t do to encourage him, or next thing I knew I’d be thinking threats and judgments with every second breath just like him. How could someone so compassionate also be so incredibly judgmental?

  I heard that, you know. I’m glad that you acknowledge my compassionate nature.

  I believe there was also something in there about judgment.

  I didn’t hear that.

  We sat in silence for a few minutes.

  Are you going to take him up on his offer?

  To use his backchannels to ensure our safety?

  Yes.

  I don’t know. I’m not exactly planning to follow the law, but you aren’t the only one with scruples. I don’t like the idea of rubbing elbows with people who really hurt others for their own gain.

  So we should avoid Matsumotos then.

  I punched his arm.

  But seriously, he acknowledged. I see the dilemma.

  What do you think?

  I say take him up on his offer, but keep track of what he does. When this is done and you rule Blackwatch, then we’ll weed out these kind of criminals using the information you are gathering right now.

  You make it sound simple. I’m so glad to have you back.

  He gathered me up into one of those all-encompassing hugs he was so good at.

  I’m sorry that you have Ian on your conscience, he said.

  So am I.

  We were emotionally close again, and I could hear his thoughts.

  Ashlyn. Ashlyn.

  I was surprised at the sharp dagger of jealousy that shot through me. Really? He was thinking of someone else while he held me? It didn’t make it any better that she was dead, but I tried to disguise my pain by feigning interest in my work.

  For the rest of the day I busied myself so I wouldn’t have to think about it. I held a conference to be sure everyone knew the plan. I gave Ch’ng the go ahead to use his contacts, although I felt a pang of conscience doing it. Then I gave Driscoll the green light. We were ready to sail.

  Are you ready, Zeta?

  My people are in place and are attending their duties. We Elders will ensure that all is done according to our orders.

  Like last time when you failed to meet our agreed upon schedule? I asked, a bit of bite in my tone.

  Last time was an anomaly.

  Let’s hope so.

  “What’s the big deal?” Ch’ng said, as he exited the lift.

  “The big deal,” Kitsano said, from her place at the large holo tank, “is that if Driscoll’s math is
off by a fraction of a fraction we’ll end up in uncharted space and we’ll be taking the long way home. Would you like to spend the rest of your life on this ship with just us?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Then pray he got it right.”

  Ch’ng looked worried.

  “Don’t stress, Ch’ng,” Driscoll said from the navigation holo. He was rechecking his numbers before he moved to the helm. “The computers double-checked everything. My numbers are good. I’ve done all of this before. Is Engineering ready with the engines?” he asked me.

  Zeta?

  Ready.

  “Ready,” I reported.

  Driscoll plunged his hand into the main holo, spinning it with a practiced touch to pull up his communications menu. With a flick of his forefinger, he activated the all-decks-communication.

  “Engineering. Fire engines.”

  I relayed the information from the shadows.

  “Engines fired.”

  “I’m showing Engines online at 70%,” Kitsano read off from the other side of the main holo. Her own hands were carefully manipulating the display, like a woman speaking in sign language.

  “Acknowledged. Keying in the navigation plot,” Driscoll said.

  “Navigation plot accepted and locked,” Kitsano said.

  I was impressed by her skill at the holotank. These things took years of practice. There was more to her than I knew about.

  “Moving to the helm,” Driscoll said.

  He strode across to the helm console and plunged his hands into the tank. They spiraled together, and settled into semi-closed fists.

  “Power to thrusters, 5%.”

  “Power to thrusters,” Kitsano acknowledged.

  “Engineering reports all clear,” I chimed in.

  My inner ear made me feel a touch queasy as we started to move. The steady reporting chants carried on as we moved out of orbit and into a course to pull away from the planet’s influence and towards free space. When, finally, we were locked into our course and able to turn the navigation and propulsion over to the computers, we were all sweat-soaked and tired.

  “Brady has a hot lunch ready,” Roman said to a round of smiles. “Why don’t you all go eat and I’ll call you if any red lights start flashing.”

  Driscoll chuckled and we followed him out of the lift. Brady had made sandwiches, and I took one for me and one for Roman. I brought it up to him on the bridge.

  Roman was peering intently into the holotank. He took the sandwich wordlessly and I refused to break the silence. I felt like there were miles of icebergs between us and they all had ‘Ashlyn’ carved on them.

  I sat at a console not far away and began to eat my sandwich. After a moment he came over to me and sat down at my feet. He put a hand on my knee and looked up at me.

  “We need to talk, I think.”

  THE MATSUMOTO: 10

  “THERE’S REALLY NOTHING TO SAY,” I said, shying away from his touch. It hurt, almost physically to feel him touch me, knowing he was thinking of her.

  He slid back from me, looking off at the main holotank, but I didn’t think he was seeing it.

  “She was a beautiful woman,” he started. It was not a good start. “I don’t mean pretty – although she was. It was her courage that I was drawn to. She was a conscript just like me. Plucked from an orphanage in Derivat on Nightshade.”

  He paused and looked up at me through his lashes, before resuming his far-away stare. “The fact that we are headed to her home planet only makes me think of her more. She didn’t want to be in the marines any more than I did. It took a long time before she trusted me enough to tell me that.” He fiddled with the mechanism on the side of the chair, not daring to touch me again. “It took even longer for her to tell me why. But that’s not my secret to tell.”

  His words hung in the air for a while. His emotions were sorrow, mixed with sweetness that would have brought tears to my eyes if I wasn’t so bitterly jealous. But why was I so jealous? Hadn’t I decided that I wanted him to have a happy life without me? Hadn’t I cried with him when he lost her?

  His eyes flicked to mine. I guess he hadn’t known that I’d seen that.

  Maybe jealousy is something that you have to deal with more than once. Maybe it’s something that you have to keep choosing to kill and choosing to kill, over and over. Loving Roman came so easily. I’d slipped into it, without conscious thought. I was beginning to see that nothing – even the best of things – is free. So far he wanted my understanding, which would require that I murder my jealousy daily, and he wanted me to embrace pacifism again, something that may cost me everything. It was like being given a sample of something, only to find out afterwards that the price was very high. Was it better to have never tasted the morsel? Or was it worth enough to sell everything you had for it?

  He waited patiently as I digested what he’d said so far. Had he gone through this same costing at one point when he thought of me? The glimmer in his eyes suggested that maybe he had. He’d picked me anyways. Or at least, he had before he’d picked Ashlyn.

  He began to speak again, perhaps prompted by my thoughts.

  “She was afraid in her core. Not so much of the challenge, but afraid of what lines she might have to cross. I felt the same. It cemented us together. Even if it hadn’t, I was mourning you and missing you, and she comforted me. She showed me that maybe there was another way for me – another future. We had plans. Plans to get out. Plans to leave Blackwatch. If she hadn’t died in my arms they might have worked.”

  “And so you can’t help but think of them and wish they were true.”

  He shrugged, and his cinnamon eyes melted me as he said, “Wouldn’t you?”

  It was like a knife cut to the chest. I gulped in a breath, struggling to keep emotion from crowding out thought. I wasn’t thinking of anyone else! It wasn’t me betraying him. But could I blame him for missing a friend who had died? Could I blame him for breaking my heart with it? I did blame him.

  His eyes, his deep dark eyes, full of understanding, full of bittersweet – they broke, and broke, and broke my heart.

  “And you’ll go on missing her forever,” I said, knowing it was true, “and forever she will be perfect in your memory. There’s no way to compete with that.”

  “It’s not a competition,” he said, simply.

  “Obviously not when I’ve lost so quickly,” I said, the bitterness seeping out. “You might be ok with having a heart divided, but I am not ok with being just one of two – or many.”

  He sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

  “What can I say? I can’t change it,” he said, and of course he couldn’t.

  I wanted to scream and to punch something. Maybe I should have. Maybe it would have let some of the pain out. Or I could cry. But I was done crying.

  “Yeah. Fine. Okay,” I said. Feeling the opposite of okay.

  “Well what? What do you want me to do, lie to you?” he said, bridling.

  “No,” I said.

  “Well, then there you go,” he said. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he kicked one of his feet out irritably.

  “I’m tired. I’ll see you around,” I said, and I went back to the cabin, locked the door and nestled down into the bed.

  I was preparing for a good cry and maybe a few hours of staring numbly at the wall, when a voice in my head pulled me out of it.

  Vera. We need to talk, Zeta said.

  I scowled, flipping up to a sitting position as petulantly as I could, even though no one could see me.

  Yes? I asked venting my irritation.

  That’s not a good way to treat your allies.

  A shadow slid through the air vent and slid upright to take Zeta’s shape. Immediately after she materialized the other elders formed up: Caradand, Elizandar, Dalinoro, Fretzler, Javazuri, and Ed Yokiro.

  Oh great. The whole posse was here. Now that I was getting to know Zeta adult-to-adult I was starting to think that maybe being raised with
out a mother hadn’t been all bad.

  Don’t forget, I can hear your thoughts sometimes. Insulting me is not good for our relationship.

  I gave her the formal half-bow of Blackwatch society. Maybe if I showed proper respect they would get to the point and I could go back to my frustrations and distress.

  You do no one any favors sulking in your room. You are a leader and you need to act like one.

  Is that what you want to talk about? I said respectfully, hoping it might prompt her to move on.

  In essence, yes, Fretzler said, seeming more focussed than she usually did. For her even speaking out was a rarity and I wondered why she chose to do so now.

  Think of it as a performance review, Yokiro suggested.

  One minute, you want to give me a performance review in my role of Baldric planetary warlord and shadow cookie jar?

  I’m sure that’s a funny joke with your generation, but comedy is not your strong suit, Zeta said. There wasn’t even a hint of humor in her words. You represent us out there in the world. It is in our best interest for you to be a strong leader. How else can you conquer the Matsumotos and free our souls?

  To be honest, I’m a touch uncertain on how that will work-

  I was cut off by Yokiro.

  We are upholding our end of the agreement. Our people work tirelessly to crew your ship. We demand that you take up your part of the bargain.

  Wasn’t my part of the bargain to overthrow Nigel Matsumoto and release your souls? I’m working on it. It takes time.

  Then stand up and make decisions instead of wavering. Stop worrying about petty childish jealousies, Zeta said, and even mentally her frustrations were apparent. Take Ch’ng’s offer. Refuse Roman’s demand to end your battles. It is absolutely important that you do not waver, but lead!

  Well, no mistaking what her priorities were. Matters of the heart? Forget them. Just like she forgot her lover and child.

  I didn’t forget, she said, I channelled everything I had into reaching my goals, and they are almost in sight. I will not let you fail.

  And there was the rub. She needed me to do what she could not. She was reaching past the grave to force me down the same path she took. And where did that path lead? To a shadow after-life? To forgetting anything that once made her human? Not for me.