“I’m already four hours into this shift,” Driscoll said to me. “Why don’t you go sleep and you can relieve me in eight hours?”
“Sure,” I agreed. It sounded reasonable, and it was nice to be able to use my newly downloaded skills for something helpful.
Don’t let him take charge like that. You are the leader here, Zeta chimed in.
Even a sulky Roman was more pleasant than my mother. I missed him.
If I’m the leader, then maybe you can let me lead my own way, I suggested.
Agreeing to the whims of your subordinates is not leading, Zeta objected.
I forced back a sigh. I had to do that a lot lately. Fortunately, Zeta either didn’t notice or didn’t think it mattered whether I agreed with her. I wondered if the shadows really believed that this would shape me into a mighty leader or if they just thought it was a great way to punish me for the sins of my people.
I headed to my quarters to get some sleep. The cabin made my belly swirl with bitterness every time I entered it. Thinking of Roman tenderly bandaging my hand and having lost all of that as quickly as I had gained it made me queasy every single time I looked at the seats by the holodesk or at the bed where we’d held each other in sweet safety.
I ordered up an outfit for tomorrow -something that would be appropriately me without drawing attention. I preferred well-fitting, tailored clothing with the room to move if needed. A girl can never look too good, provided she does so in a subtle, understated manner. I chose whites, blacks and greys, of course. There weren’t any other options and attention is a bad thing when you are a convicted criminal. I laid them out beside the bed, and ordered a basic set of fleet underthings to sleep in. Once they were tubed up to me I stripped down and got into the sonic shower, letting the vibrations remove the dirt and sweat of the day. For some reason it played a trickling soundtrack to try to fool your mind that there was water involved, but the only water was a fine mist at the end to rejuvenate the pores just before the dryer kicked in.
I stepped out and into my fleet issue skivvies and undershirt and crossed to the bed. I was almost there when I was startled by a voice.
“Vera?”
I leapt, barely suppressing a yelp. Roman was sitting at the holodesk. Had he seen me dress? My heart juddered and sped with a combination of fear and hope. I felt my belly flip yet again. He wasn’t good for my digestion.
He bit his lower lip, and looked at me with those deep cinnamon eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. So simple. So badly what I wanted to hear.
I gave him a half-smile and said, “It’s ok.”
I felt tears pricking my eyes. It really wasn’t ok. He’d hurt me bad, but for him I would be ok. For him I would make it ok. The tears spilled out. I wiped them away furiously, ashamed of my vulnerability.
He stood up and came over, taking one of my hands in his.
“I really am sorry,” he said, as he folded me into his arms. I grabbed him immediately, terrified that he might change his mind. “I used to hate Ian because he made you blush and worry. I wanted him to be gone forever.”
And now he is, I thought. Roman took my upper arms in his hands and stood me back so he could look in my eyes.
“You have to know, Vera. You have to know, that my loyalty and my heart have been yours from the moment I met you. Unwillingly at first, maybe, but then wholeheartedly. I thought I’d lost you and I gave away a piece of what was left of me. I can’t get that back. But the rest of me is still yours and it has been this whole time. That isn’t going to change. When I tell you that I love you, it’s not like that’s going to change.”
So he’d love me forever – and maybe a few others along the way. He’d whittle himself down for them until all I had was a tiny sliver of what was once mine.
He was shaking his head.
“No. I didn’t know that you were alive. I didn’t mean to. If this ever happens again I won’t give up on you, Vera. I’m yours forever, whether you are willing to take me back or not. Yours to the death.”
My tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and thick. I drew in a long breath, trying to still them, but he didn’t give me a chance. He kissed me just beneath one eye, kissing my tear away.
That tiny gesture was all I needed. I wanted unity again. I wanted my Roman back. I could say goodbye to the piece of his heart he gave away, but I couldn’t say goodbye to the rest. More than that – I was unwilling to relinquish the rest.
I wrapped my arms around him, drawing him close against me so I could feel his solid, real body. I wanted to know that this was real, and to remember it like this. I didn’t want to ever forget.
“I love you, Roman. I want you for as long as you want me,” I said.
“I want you forever,” he said.
I turned my face up and kissed him sweetly, with forgiveness. He drew me back in and kissed the crown of my head, which was at just the right height for kissing. I reached up and pulled his head down so I could kiss him more passionately.
“Come sit with me for a bit,” he offered.
Sleep could wait a bit longer.
THE MATSUMOTO: 13
THE WHOOP OF THE KLAXON woke me. I sat up, flinging my legs over the side of the bed and standing before I’d realized what was happening. Months of being on constant high alert had programmed me, and I was stuffing my legs into my skinsuit as I yelled at Zeta in my head.
Report. What is happening?
I sensed a feeling of satisfaction behind the tone of her words. She liked it when I sounded authoritative, for all the good it did me.
We’re in trouble.
“All hands, this is Driscoll,” the harsh words echoed over the loudspeakers throughout the ship. “We are being chased by an unidentified ship. Please report to battlestations immediately.”
Battlestations? We hadn’t even assigned battlestations.
“Correction. Please report to the bridge immediately,” Driscoll said.
That made more sense. I finished sealing my skinsuit and boots, checking to be sure that all the hookups were in order in case they were needed. These suits could pressurize into something in between a soft pre-diaspora Earth space suit and a hard maintenance suit if the ship lost pressure. All it needed was a helmet, but thankfully there were a few racked at every station around the ship.
Roman was shrugging on his own clothing. He arched an eyebrow at me. I’d let him stay the night, although not in the way that everyone probably thought. It made both of us less anxious to have the other one nearby. Honestly, I still had a lot of mental barriers to breaking the three rules, even if I was now the blood enemy of the man who was responsible to enforce them.
This is real trouble, I said.
Well, if trouble comes a lookin’ for me I’m gonna be mighty hard to find, he replied. It sounded like a quote.
Nice to see that someone has regained his sense of humor.
Don’t let it fool you. This marine is like a neo-tiger and a plasma saw reconstituted into one.
We ran to the bridge and joined the others. Driscoll was elbows deep in the main holotank with Kitsano at the tactical station.
“We’ve ID’d her as the Barnacle Goose. Ship’s records show that is the flag ship of Admiral Tagawa.”
Uh oh. Flaghship. There had never been a flagship in history that wasn’t accompanied by at least a task force. Hopefully it wasn’t a full fleet.
“Do you read any other ships in her formation?” I asked.
Kitsano nodded as if in agreement with the question, and scanned over her holo.
“Passive sensors read nothing. We could try active, but most Fleet ships consider active sensors to be tantamount to declaring intentions of aggression.”
I was aware of that, so I nodded.
“How far are we from the planet?” I asked.
“If you mean, ‘can we get a shuttle there,’ then the answer is yes. If you mean, ‘can we get a shuttle there undetected,’ then the answer is no,” Driscoll said, absently.<
br />
“Forget running away. Can we fight?” Ch’ng said.
“We don’t have the manpower,” I said.
“Don’t you have thousands of shadows you can pull up at a whim?” he challenged.
“Yes. And they can respond to the computers and run the ship like an amped up autopilot, but they can’t communicate directly with the humans on the ship, except for me and Kitsano, and that’s simply not good enough to maneuver and respond to orders in a timely manner in a battle.”
Ch’ng looked at Driscoll.
“We can’t make a fight in this ship,” Driscoll said,frowning. “You know Matsumoto. If she could fight for us, she would.”
Ch’ng nodded, convinced.
“So what, then?” he asked.
I crossed to the main holo and stuck my own hands in beside Driscoll’s, sifting data with precise finger flicks and swirls.
It looks like you’re finger painting in mud, Roman commented.
I can’t afford to be distracted right now.
His inappropriate thoughts were almost too much, and once again I wished that the filter that was supposed to exist between our minds had stayed in place.
No you don’t. This is so much more fun. If I knew I had this ability earlier…
“What do you think of this model?” I asked Driscoll, pulling up the numbers and trajectories I’d been working up.
“It might work. Maybe. If we’re lucky.”
“What might work?” Ch’ng asked. He hated that he wasn’t in charge.
Keep the attention on your plan. Inspire your people. Lead them to victory! Zeta urged.
Just survive, my own mind countered, all the rest is for fools.
And Matsumotos, Roman added.
Point taken.
“We’re being hailed,” Kitsano said.
“Put it on speaker,” I said, “but nix the feed on this end.”
“Cardinal’s Blood, Cardinal’s Blood, this is Blackwatch Imperial Fleet Ship Barnacle Goose. Please respond,” the speaker chirped.
“What now?” Kitsano asked.
“Put yourself on speaker. Tell them you are our comm officer and that we are on a routine flight to Nightshade,” I said. “Driscoll, key in that course I laid precisely. Everyone else get down to the shuttle bay and prep shuttle number one for launch. Follow the computer prompts until either Kitsano or Driscoll arrives to take over. We need to time this well with so few people. And someone grab Yamamoto.”
Kitsano surprised me with an, “Aye, Skipper,” that didn’t even sound ironic.
You’re stuck with me until you leave the bridge, Roman said. I didn’t bother arguing.
Zeta, how long will it take to retract the shadows into my mind? I don’t want to leave any of you here.
She was quiet for a few moments and then said, Five minutes.
“Driscoll, do you have the course laid?”
“Almost.”
“Can the ship’s computer do it on automatic?”
“For the most part.”
“Then once it’s keyed go to the shuttle to prep.”
He nodded once, but kept his eyes on his work.
Zeta, recall the shadows, I said.
“The officer over there’s not buying our story. She says to get the captain on the line,” Kitsano reported.
“Tell her to stand by,” I ordered. “Then leave the logo screen up and get down to the shuttle.”
“Should I leave their communications on speaker?”
“Please.”
“Aye, Skipper.”
What’s the plan? Roman asked.
Driscoll’s laying in an evasive maneuver course. It will bring us near the planet, but put us in the shadow of some other traffic. Hopefully we can launch the shuttle in the chaos and leave the ship to fly itself out of harm’s way. When they capture her they’ll know we left and they’ll know when according to the ship’s automatic logs, but hopefully we’ll be on planet then and able to hide out.
Yikes. I don’t give that much chance of succeeding.
Well then thanks for the vote of confidence, I said, frowning.
No problem.
Sometimes I’d prefer if he lied to me.
Your body looks fantastic in that skinsuit.
Or maybe not. It was too easy to tell when he was playing me.
“Cardinal’s Blood this is your last warning. Put Captain Sato on the comm in thirty seconds or we will open fire.”
“That’s not good,” I said aloud. Only Roman, Driscoll and I were left.
“There. Keyed,” Driscoll said.
The shadows were beginning to enter the bridge now, merging with my own shadow and pouring into my consciousness. I hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to absorb them. Each addition made my head whirl and required a force of concentration that blocked everything else out.
I took a step towards the lift with Driscoll and Roman to head down to the small craft bay.
Don’t move! We can’t be reabsorbed when you are moving and this is where I told them to rendezvous! Zeta ordered.
“Hurry Vera. There’s only three minutes until we need to launch our shuttle,” Driscoll called.
I was unable to speak. The intensity of focus required of me was too great. I stood there, mouth drooping like a stroke victim, as sentient consciousnesses poured into me like boiling water on ice.
Roman ran back towards me and scooped me up in his arms. I held up a hand.
Stop, was all I could say.
“Cardinal’s Blood, surrender now!” the speaker boomed.
A shrill alarm sounded from the tactical holo and a second later the ship rocked, gyrating like it was on ice instead of in vacuum. Roman’s knees buckled and we crashed to the floor. I was immobile, my face pressed to the deck plating, looking up at the two of them as the shadows swarmed towards me.
Driscoll glanced at the main holotank. “She’s hit. We need to get to the small craft bay. Come on!”
He ran to the other side of me, and he and Roman hauled me up and then each threw one of my arms over their shoulders and dragged me into the lift. Driscoll jammed the buttons.
Zeta was screaming angrily in my head. We were bound to lose shadows if I kept moving. They wouldn’t be able to catch up. What did she expect? My own thoughts were not responding clearly enough to communicate. I was overloaded with the sheer volume of the shadows streaming into me.
“Driscoll, are you there?” Kitsano yelled over the comm.
“I’m here, what’s on your mind?”
“The small craft bay has taken a hit. We are leaking atmosphere. You’d better be right about that course. We need to launch the second your feet hit this deck!”
“On our way,” he grunted, as the lift doors opened and the two men struggled out, running at a matched pace with me draped between them.
I was frozen within my own body and I could see shadows rocketing down the passages before us before they collided with my living brain. Being an alien warlord and General of a Shadow Army is not all it’s cracked up to be.
Loving one isn’t either, Roman grunted underneath me, although it offers excellent PT opportunities.
We came up to the small craft bay doors, and Driscoll jammed the release and then cursed.
“The doors are damaged. They can’t open.”
Roman studied the schematic on the wall.
“There’s another way here,” he said pointing to a route on the map, as the ship was rocked again by a blow.
Passages and decks on the schematic were suddenly outlined in red and Driscoll shook his head.
“Not anymore. We might be able to make it through the maintenance passage here, but I can’t tell if it’s open to vacuum.”
“There’s a helmet rack here,” Roman suggested, pointing again at the schematic. “We can helmet up and give it a try.”
“Best chance,” Driscoll agreed, and if I were able to form cognitive thought I would have marvelled at how smoothly they worked together.
“Did you pre-flight both assault shuttles, Kitsano?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Then you’d better take the first. We’ll take the second when we get there.”
There was a pause on the other end of the comm.
“What does Matsumoto say?”
I felt a surge of satisfaction. She wanted to know if Driscoll was following my orders.
“She’s out of commission at present. I’ve left instructions with Ch’ng in case we get separated. He’ll fill you in. See you on the other side.”
“Aye, sir,” Kitsano replied.
Roman jammed a helmet over my head, sealing it and then leaned me against the bulkhead as he and Driscoll sealed their own helmets and double checked the telltales. The shadow river continued to flood into my head, but even through the black mass I could see through the warped window on the small craft bay door. A bright glow filled the Plexiglas as Kitsano’s shuttle lit her engines and left us to die on our own.
THE MATSUMOTO: 14
“HAND HER TO ME,” DRISCOLL said, wiping the screen of his helmet with a gloved hand.
It must have been subconscious since he didn’t have the ability to actually wipe the sweat from his brow, but it made me feel hopeful. I’d noticed what he was doing. I was beginning to get a grip on my own mind again.
The last of the shadows had returned to me hours ago – or at least it felt like it had been hours ago, although that couldn’t possibly be the case. Our ship was still being rocked by missile fire, and she would have been smashed to slag if it really had been hours ago. I still couldn’t move on my own.
Roman passed me off to Driscoll with an exhausted grunt and then scrambled down the ventilation shaft ahead of us. This was the third route they’d tried. All the others had suffered damage and proven impassable.
“Cardinal’s Blood, you are damaged beyond recovery. Our boarding parties are on approach and will dock in your small craft bay in approximately 10 minutes. Any resistance will be met with deadly force. Prepare to surrender.”
Miraculously, the comm systems were still in working order.
“This better be it,” Roman muttered, fiddling with a panel beside the maintenance hatch.
The Matsumoto Trilogy: Omnibus Edition Page 54