The Matsumoto Trilogy: Omnibus Edition

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  “How do you know?” I asked. “That isn’t quite how it worked on Baldric.”

  “It’s been modified,” Choshi added. “We have very reliable sources for our information on this.”

  I frowned again, running my hand over Roman’s forehead as I thought.

  They overrode my implant and sucked me in somehow. If they’ve modified it further, who knows what it is capable of doing? Zeta chimed in.

  You’ve been oddly quiet.

  Believe it or not, I have interests outside of you.

  Shut down by a dead woman. Again.

  “So they are under his control and my behaviour is under his ever watching eye. Do you think my program tells him where I am when I violate the laws?”

  Driscoll made a moue with his mouth as he thought and I noticed Ch’ng and Kitsano share a confused glance. I would not be enlightening them.

  “Perhaps,” he said, and then changed it to, “likely.”

  “Then I should avoid breaking the rules. I don’t want to be discovered prematurely.”

  He nodded.

  “Regardless,” I said, “We won’t be tapping into your army of ‘combies.’ There must be a better way.”

  “And if there isn’t one?”

  “Then I will create one,” I said, settling back with my arms folded over my chest. I had been forging both my own luck and my own path for so long now that it would be amazing if I didn’t have to do the same in this.

  “When we get to Derivat we’ll split up,” Driscoll said. “For security purposes, so that we can blend in better. I’ve put a note in your documents with the place to go when you get to New Greenland. Vera and Roman, of course, Ebisawa and Shiga, Choshi and Ch’ng and I will travel with Kitsano.”

  He leaned back and closed his eyes, so he didn’t see Kitsano’s satisfied look. Choshi did the same, but I heard him muttering something that sounded like a prayer.

  “Where are Yamamoto and the others?” I asked Kitsano.

  “We left them at a hospital. Yamamoto was not doing well.”

  I closed my own eyes, and wondered if they had survived the bombarding of debris. I hoped so. There was no sleep for me, only fears, half-formed plans, and half-caught dreams from Roman.

  Are you sleeping? Zeta asked.

  Not now, I said irritably.

  Ch’ng and Kitsano began a quiet conversation, and under the mask of their distraction Driscoll leaned casually closer to me, still looking as if he were sleeping.

  “Are you sleeping?” he asked. Those two were too much alike.

  Not alike.

  Don’t kid yourself.

  “I’m not now,” I tried not to snap my whisper.

  “Can you still hear Zeta speaking in your head?” he asked.

  “Can I ever,” I said, dryly.

  You should be grateful for the privilege, Zeta said.

  “I thought she knew. I thought she knew that they would come for me…after. All these years, I thought she did it on purpose.”

  I told you he was a fool. I knew nothing.

  Sure, go ahead. Ignore me, the one whose ears and mind you are hijacking for this sentimental moment.

  I thought he’d used me for his pleasure and abandoned me. That if he had lived he’d be telling people how he had been with a Matsumoto.

  “I thought she’d trapped me. Used me. I was a social activist when we met. Idealistic. She shared all my values. We wanted the world to be better. You know, full of love instead of rules. I didn’t think that it would be a big deal if we got involved. She was only the niece of the Emperor, and not very important compared to the others in her family. Just a girl, so young and vibrant. She practically vibrated with passion about everything. It made me feel like I was setting off through space, rocketing to the stars without need for a ship.”

  “I’m feeling extremely uncomfortable with this conversation,” I whispered, but no one cared.

  “That morning, after we first made love, I woke up and I thought that the world was so beautiful it hardly even needed saving. That maybe we had saved it just by being together.”

  “If you could just go light on the details,” I groaned.

  “I stepped outside to check my hoverbike. We’d been in too much of a hurry that night before to park it correctly. I stepped out, and they grabbed me. Dragged me off to a cell. Stripped me. Tortured me. Sentenced me to death. I was rescued before they could kill me and smuggled away, but I always wondered why she slept with me that night. Had she wanted that to happen to me? Had she been setting me up from the moment we met? Did she hate me so much?”

  Tell him.

  “Zeta didn’t know. She thought you’d used her. Just a cheap one night stand. ”

  “I loved her.”

  “Good to know,” I said, shifting irritably.

  It changes things…

  He cracked an eye open and looked at me sheepishly.

  Eventually I took pity on him and spoke awkwardly. “She didn’t hate you. It was the world’s biggest misunderstanding. Do you have regrets now?”

  “No reserves, no retreats, no regrets,” he said, before closing his eyes and drifting into what looked like true sleep.

  I tried to sleep, too, but I kept coming back to my parents’ heartbreak. After so many years how did you fix something like that? Especially since none of this would ever have happened if the Matsumotos hadn’t torn them apart.

  THE MATSUMOTO: 23

  I WOKE TO THE SOUND of Choshi sobbing. His sobs were quiet and muffled by his hands, but they were loud enough to wake me. I glanced over to his seat and saw him huddled down in it, looking old and worn. He and Genda must have been very close. I thought about saying something, but what was there to say? His friend was gone. Like Ian, and Ashlyn, and Edward. And Zeta and Sammy for Driscoll. Like so many others.

  I felt my own tears rising up and I fought them down. There was no time for mourning anymore. There was no time for self-pity or for questioning why. I’d indulged in all those things before, but I knew now that it never stopped. All that was left was to take the reins myself so I could end all of this. The needless death. The agonizing pain. The haunting guilt that stood over you always, a spectre of what might have been. It was my responsibility to push forward and carry us all out of their depths and into what lay beyond.

  And what is that? Zeta asked.

  Peace. And a final end to pain.

  Death is the only end. And look how that’s worked out for us.

  I ignored her. I didn’t have the luxury anymore to indulge in melancholy philosophizing. I needed to stay focussed.

  Vera?

  Even through our link Roman’s voice sounded weak.

  Roman. I’m here, I said, moving to the side of his stretcher, and taking his hand in mine.

  Where are we?

  Hovercraft. Headed to the Capitol of Nightshade. The planet it under attack and the installation wasn’t safe anymore.

  He struggled to sit up and I reached to help him, feeling the brush of his anger and bitterness through the channel at the loss of his leg.

  …because of her…

  I wasn’t supposed to hear that, so I ignored it, although heat flooded my face.

  I’ll take that vow of pacifism, I said, trying to cheer him up.

  Why now?

  Because Nigel can tell when I break one of the three oaths and I think it tells him my location, too. I can’t kill anyone again without betraying us, I admitted.

  Cheat, he said, but his heart was not in it.

  I eased him into a seat, careful of his leg.

  It doesn’t hurt. The pain killers are working.

  I examined the stump where his leg used to be. The flesh is closed up. I guess the medbots have done their work.

  I collapsed the e-stretcher, taking the print book and the crutch that had been stowed there and laying them beside Roman before stowing the stretcher in a slot under the seats.

  How does feel? I asked.

  Like it should
still be there, he said bitterly.

  And wasn’t that the truth. That’s how I felt, too. Could he ever forgive me for the sacrifice of his leg? It felt like it had torn an incredible distance between us, as if I couldn’t reach him even if I tried.

  I accept your renewed vow of pacifism, he said, looking into my eyes with a guarded gaze. Miles apart.

  Good, I said with a forced smile.

  But, you’ll have to give me another vow in its place since you were forced into this one.

  He was heart-achingly beautiful. My wounded warrior. If only he knew. I would give him anything.

  What do you want me to vow, Roman? I asked, Surely you must know that you may have anything.

  Anything? Would you abandon this quest to take Blackwatch?

  Anything but that.

  If you ask me to, I answered, not sure if I was lying.

  I’ll let you know, he said, but the feeling of his emotions suggested that he was worried about what he wanted to request. Maybe the loss of his leg was too much for even my faithful warrior to bear. A pang of recrimination stabbed me, and an answering siren of loss came from him over our channel, proving that he was once again listening in on my thoughts.

  It’s not that.

  Then what is it? Anything you want, up to half my kingdom,I sent to him with a glimmer of humor, desperately trying to lighten the mood.

  He locked eyes with me, and I could not look away. The love I felt for him was overwhelming, making my stomach churn with its intensity, even while I tried to swallow the bile of fear that frothed at the surface. What if he could never see me the same again after everything that had happened? What if our love was doomed to fail before it had truly begun?

  Tears welled in my eyes, but I fought them down. I could not restore what had been taken, so the least I could do was be courageous in the face of it, and not share my own problems with him.

  Anything?

  I tried to project my assent through my eyes and hoped somehow that he would understand all the things I didn’t know how to say.

  Yes, I said.

  I’ll think about it, he said, looking away.

  My heart felt like it had sprung a leak, but what could possibly dam up a hole in your heart?

  Roman closed his eyes, and after a moment his breathing grew easier again and he drifted off to sleep. My agitation was worse than ever. I wanted so much for him to say that everything was ok between us. I wanted him to fix us, but shouldn’t I be the one to repair what was broken? He was the one injured after all. It felt so muddled and I hated feeling muddled.

  I reached for the print book and fumbled through it. It was a diary written in ink on paper. I had never seen one of these. The dates corresponded to the beginning of the Matsumoto Dynasty, but there was no name. Was it an early member of The Hand?

  I flipped through. Genda had only saved one thing, this diary and the teeth. Why these? I rummaged in my pocket and pulled out the teeth. After the launch of “Operation Overthrow” I was a touch nervous about what the rest might hold. I had always thought of my implant as a useful tool, but a knife is a useful tool and it can turn in the hand in an instant. My implant was beginning to feel more like that. Knowing that Nigel could use it to detect my rebellion, and that I could never remove it, only made things worse.

  Driscoll was up now too, and while I was distracted watching him digging in a storage compartment I didn’t notice Choshi slide in next to me.

  “Those are Neal Matsumoto’s molars,” he said, conversationally.

  “Why?” I asked, trying not to sound as disgusted as I was that they were holding on to my ancestor’s teeth.

  “We don’t know, but he asked that we bequeath them to his ‘true heir’. If you look closely they have QR codes engraved on them. We’ve scanned them with anything and everything we can find. All we pick up is weird old earth art with the words, ‘For the true heir only’ emblazoned over them.”

  I smiled despite myself, looking at the molars. My implant read the QR codes automatically and began to download files. They were extensive histories of the Matsumotos.

  “That does sound like Neal Matsumoto. He was well known for his odd sense of humor.”

  “That’s his diary you are holding,” Choshi said. “Can I assume Genda gave them to you?”

  “He did,” I said, allowing the sadness I felt to enter my eyes.

  “He was a good friend,” Choshi said. “You didn’t know him. It’s a pity really. We were sure he would have the time to tutor the true heir if he arrived during our lifetimes.”

  “Life never goes the way you expect,” I said, my eyes drifting bitterly to Roman’s leg.

  “Now don’t say that,” Choshi said consolingly. “Pessimism doesn’t suit the young.”

  I gave him a concerned look. Maybe he’d sustained a head injury when he fled the installation.

  “That’s how Genda used to look at me, too, when we first met,” he said with a tiny smile. “We served together.”

  “In the Military?” I asked, surprised.

  “Oh yes. I was a fleet astrogator. Genda, of course, was a marine. He always had the mind for those things, but war had no appeal for me. The stars on the other hand…” his words faded away and he lay back with his eyes fixed heavenward and although it was noon I almost thought I could see a glimmer of stars in the glaring sky,

  Driscoll interrupted by thrusting a stack of clothes at me.

  “Yours and Roman’s,” he said. “You’ll stick out wearing skinsuits. We need to look like refugees. Here are your documents.”

  He flung a pair of chips at me. I activated one and saw that the holo had my face and the name ‘Vera Driscoll’ on it.

  “I’m your daughter?” I asked, with a lifted eyebrow.

  “Why not?” he said lightly, but there was a flicker of emotion behind his blue eyes. “Now, hold still.”

  “Wha…”

  “I said, hold still,” he said, grabbing my chin between his thumb and finger and industriously rubbing something on my right cheek and up under my right eye. “We can’t have anyone seeing that Matsumoto face, so this is a fake burn. It will make your skin look horribly blistered and hopefully it will obscure your features. Scars are good for that.”

  “Good thing I already have one on the other side then,” I said wryly.

  “Mmmhmm,” he agreed, concentrating on my face.

  “These for me?” Roman asked huskily from beside me, taking his clothes from my hands.

  “Yes,” Driscoll said, “and Vera will need to hide the rest of her face in her hood and with a scarf. If she shows enough of that ‘burn’ no one will ask why she’s covering up. They’ll figure that either it hurts or that she’s embarrassed, and that means that you’ll need to do the talking.”

  “I’m a Driscoll, too?”

  Driscoll shrugged. “We already had the IDs in the systems, they just needed pictures. We were on a tight timeline. Still are. No complaints.”

  “I’m not complaining,” Roman said. “Thanks, Driscoll.”

  “No problem,” he said gruffly, and I felt a spike of jealousy at their normal conversation.

  My own world felt like it was in freefall with Roman so distant. He hadn’t even acknowledged my presence. A spike of anger from Roman made me feel guilty for thinking of myself and I blinked back a tear.

  “No need to cry,” Driscoll said. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so fussy after the terrible makeover you gave yourself.”

  He motioned to my hair, still playing with his handiwork on my face.

  “I should have had it fixed by now,” I agreed.

  “Yes. It draws attention,” he said, hauling out a hairtrimmer from his stack of things. “Hold still.”

  He ran it over my head.

  “Don’t take off too much,” I joked. “I only asked for a trim.”

  No laugh from Roman. It was like I no longer existed to him. But could I blame him? I’d cost him his leg and almost his life.
/>   Which was the fault of you shadows by the way, I griped bitterly to Zeta.

  Sure, pass the blame. Be a child. Ever heard of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden? Everyone passed the buck to someone else and then they all got cursed for it.

  I don’t remember that being the moral of the story.

  There was no moral. Just a story. And forget the man. Men only break your heart and leave you to do everything on your own.

  And people wonder why I’m so warm and fuzzy.

  “What do you think? Do I get a tip?” Driscoll asked, holding up a mirror. My hair was even and short. I wasn’t beautiful, but at least it didn’t look like I’d hacked it off in a makeshift kitchen.

  “Sure. Stay away from Matsumotos.”

  “I already know that one,” he said.

  “They’re still tracking us,” Shiga called to Driscoll from the front. “Should I try to lose them.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, looking irritated.

  “Who is following us?” I asked.

  “No one,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at me as he packed his gear up.

  I touched him on the shoulder and said, “I think I should know.”

  He sighed.

  “A team from the Fleet ship that discovered The Cardinal’s Blood has been tracking us since we came dirtside…or planet side, I guess,” he gestured at the water all around us. “We’ve been three steps ahead of them, and we still are.”

  “It sounds like they’re getting close,” I said, running my fingers through my new haircut.

  “These IDs are secure, and we are breaking up into smaller groups once we get to the checkpoint, so they likely won’t have the manpower to follow all of us.” He paused and shrugged, glancing at Roman’s prosthetic. “Keep your head down and they won’t find you. You aren’t what they are expecting.”

  I grunted, accepting his logic. Maybe I should work on my relationship with my father. It was the only one that was working out for me right now.