The Splitting (The Matsumoto Trilogy Book 2)

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  I felt a pang in my leg and my hand reached for it immediately as if by habit. A thick scar padded my thigh under my hand. It was fiery to the touch. As soon as I touched it, I knew whose body I was in. I looked to the side and caught my face reflected poorly in the glass of a sliding hatch door.

  Roman.

  I inhaled sharply, tears springing to my eyes as I saw the face of my dearest friend looking at me. It was a face I’d thought I’d never see again.

  I snapped like an elastic band snapping back into place after being stretched. Or at least that’s what it felt like.

  I was back in my own body, panting, my legs spread in a wide fighting stance and my hands up in front of me. The only red inverted carets left were flickering far in the distance and under my feet was a pool of shadows.

  Someone behind me uttered a profanity in what sounded like admiration. I felt like echoing him. Roman’s handiwork was effective, as always.

  Corporal Maxwell stared at me with the one eye not covered by the tac lens. He shook himself, clearly deciding I was a problem above his pay grade.

  “Fall out! We’re heading out before they come again. Fergus, rear! Mutambi, point. I have Morin’s place.”

  We ran.

  “Who in the black hells is she?” I heard, among other things. Roman had earned me a reputation.

  But, more pressing than my burgeoning reputation was the salient question: How had that happened to us? We had just sort of...split...and half of each of us was in the other person. I could hardly form even a single thought around it. It was like science fiction. If we were physically close, I might have thought it was our implants. They’d been strangely connected even before we swapped bodies under the stress of torture on Veritas IV, but this was even stranger and we were millions of light years apart. He’d told me that the next time we switched bodies I’d need his permission in writing. I definitely didn’t have that! He was going to kill me. It warmed me to think of him angry because it meant he was alive.

  I fought to find an explanation, as I ran, but nothing came of it. I just ended up sad that I hadn’t been able to say “thank you” to Roman. Even light years away he was my guardian still, in heart. I’d never again find his like. I missed him so much that he was like a phantom limb.

  Roman, Roman, Roman, my heart sang, but my head was racing to figure out what to do about the red inverted carets that kept ghosting at the edges of my vision.

  I couldn’t count on Roman taking over every time we were attacked. Especially, since it looked like that would be every hour or so until we were all yellow fungi towers. I needed to think of a way to fight them myself. They weren’t human, which was an advantage for me since I psychologically couldn’t kill humans. It was one of those fun little Matsumoto traits like my pretty eyes and thick black hair. It was my only advantage though. I had no knowledge of hand-to-hand combat, or anything-to-hand combat for that matter.

  We ran on, stopping occasionally for water breaks, but never more than for a few minutes. Eventually we reached the end of the canyon, where a waterfall tricked over the cliff face and transformed into the creek we’d been following.

  There was no way up its slick surface. We were boxed in. We’d need to climb the canyon wall. It was not so steep that we would need gear, but a climb would leave us vulnerable to attack. My Tactical Interface threw up the height and figures. It claimed a 78% chance we would be attacked on the climb. I loved having a pessimistic computer in my head; it dovetailed perfectly with my own pessimism.

  We all stood there huffing air though our masks and probably thinking along the same lines. I was wondering if all of this was worth it. I was out here fighting for a life I wasn’t sure I even wanted anymore. I lost everything that mattered to me before I was sent to Capricornia, except for my life and Roman. Now they’d taken Roman, too, and if neither of us died it still wasn’t likely we’d ever see each other again ... in the flesh at least.

  I thought about that as I watched the cliffs and saw the inverted carets dance. How badly did I want to live with nothing really to live for? Best case scenario, I’d survive and be a hard working colonist in ‘Native Relations’ here on Baldric. It was about as appealing as eating sand. Was that worth fighting for?

  I thought of Roman fighting off those shadows. He thought I was worth fighting for – even now. Even after I’d gotten him in so much of a mess. Did he know it was me?

  And what about the reverence I’d had for life up until now? I’d thought that life was so sacred I had no right to even defend myself if it meant taking the life of another. Nothing seemed as sacred as that right now. Nigel and the Empire weren’t. These marines who hated us weren’t. Those shadows weren’t. And us, the ‘colonists,’ the trash of Blackwatch? What about us? I didn’t see anything sacred here, either.

  Roman. His loyalty. His self sacrifice. If there was anything worth fighting for I guessed it would be him.

  I drove it from my mind. I’d likely never see him again. If I was going to decide that I wanted to live then I’d need to make that happen on my own. For the first time, no one was going to save me.

  I opened my pack and fiddled around inside finding a bit of twine, cut it with the handy survival knife – far too small to be a weapon, but just enough to do some basic tasks – and then I braided my hair over one shoulder and tied the end. My hair was long and beautiful and very much in the way right now. When I found scissors I would cut it off.

  Maxwell was the only one looking at the cliffs with a different expression than the rest of us. I realized he was trying to communicate with someone. I focused on my Tactical Interface, paying attention to the communications text on the side screen. After a few seconds of sorting through random chatter, I discovered how to key in to just him. His communications read:

  Command: ...there? Corporal Maxwell?...

  Maxwell: Corporal Maxwell reporting.

  Command:...there?...

  Maxwell: This is Maxwell.

  Command: ...Come in...

  Maxwell: I say again, this is Maxwell. Go ahead.

  As always with government or military they were screwing up perfectly. The military expression is ‘screwing up by the numbers.’

  I walked over to Maxwell. If you aren’t sure if you care whether you die it makes you care a bit less about appearances.

  “It might help if you spoke out loud instead of subvocalizing.”

  He glared at me, and I shrugged.

  “I’m serious.”

  The terrorists wouldn’t need to hijack Maxwell’s brain. It was already off on vacation most of the time.

  Maxwell sighed and gave in, flipping his helmet mike down and speaking aloud.

  “This is Corporal Maxwell, I say again, go ahead.”

  “Corporal Maxwell, this is Command,” It sounded like Reynolds, “Report on your status, over.”

  “Corporal Maxwell, reporting. I’ve lost one marine and two colonists. Three marines and eighteen colonists surviving. We are encountering light enemy contact, pressing forward on a direct route to the rendezvous, over.”

  This was ‘light’ contact? What exactly had gone on before I woke from cryosleep?

  “Corporal Maxwell, this is Command. Remain on course, but with rest stops. Local planetary days are 43 hours. Do not wait for night fall to rest, over.”

  “Understood, sir, over.”

  “Make best time with appropriate rests and we will meet you at the rendezvous, over and out.”

  “Understood, sir, over and out.”

  Well, that was all very nice and orderly, and at least he’d been ordered to give us rests. The sun hadn’t even reached its zenith. I probably wasn’t the only one who needed some food and a sleep.

  “We’ll climb the side of the canyon first,” Maxwell announced, knowing we’d all heard.

  The marines chorused their assent, but the colonists were exchanging looks. I think the thought had occurred to all of us that we outnumbered the marines, even though they were the
only ones armed. How long did we need to keep following orders? How many marines could we overpower? For me it was only speculation. I had no desire to ‘bushwhack’ my way through Baldric, but I could sense that for others this was more of a possibility. The desire for freedom is a powerful motivator.

  At Maxwell’s insistence we were each given a ‘buddy’ to help us up the cliff. He assigned me Ian, of course.

  “You get the panther girl,” Sentry hissed to Ian. I ignored them. I wasn’t sure who would kill me faster given half the chance, Sentry with his long list of murders, or Ian with his very personal hatred.

  Maxwell led the charge – or rather the scramble – up the side of the ravine. It was comprised mainly of loose rock, but the incline took a few jogs. Forty meters is high even if the incline is gradual enough that you don’t need ropes. Half the problem was getting traction on the skidding rocks. The other half was avoiding the dislodged rocks of the climbers above you. They rolled and bounced their way down the surface, barely missing heads or bodies. I heard curses start almost as soon as Maxwell’s ascent began, and they continued throughout.

  I looked at Ian just before we were about to take our turn. He was studiously ignoring me. I tried to forget how he used to make me feel warm and appreciated, and remember that none of that mattered now. It was my fault he was here. Not completely, but enough. His hatred of me was a given.

  He turned an icy glare on me. “What do you want?”

  I shook my head and looked away, but I wished it wasn’t like this. I wished I could fix the mess I had made. For Roman, if I could. For Ian. For anyone. I just wished I could fix it all. Actions have consequences. The day I saved my own life I set in motion events that put them all here. If it hadn’t been for my choice none of this would be the way it was. Ian would still rule his planet under his father... or would he? Nigel had suggested it was only a matter of time before he came and took it over anyway.

  We started our climb up the rocks, skidding side by side. Some pairs of colonists assisted one another, lending a grip where needed, or pointing out rocks. We remained silent and as physically distant as possible, each trying to do it on our own. I almost laughed. Wasn’t that so true of us? Even now? Especially now.

  My heart ached at that. I couldn’t help Ian, because we were both too stubborn. I dodged a bouncing rock and it nearly hit him instead.

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  “What was that?” he asked, a little too loudly.

  “Sorry,” I said, looking at him and trying to convey everything I was thinking in that single look.

  He held my gaze for a moment and I could tell he knew what I meant, but then his mouth twisted and he looked away.

  I went back to climbing. My hamstrings were aching so badly I could barely lift my legs, but we were almost there. Every step we took slid almost halfway back, so we had to work another fifty percent harder to gain every meter of ground, but we were slowly snaking our way up the incline.

  A shadow to the left looked a little too black. I stumbled, distracted by it, and Ian caught my arm, letting go almost immediately. His disdain at arresting my fall was apparent, but it was enough to right me. My Tactical Interface flicked up a red inverted caret as the shadow split and came towards us, rearing up in a perfect mockery of me.

  It was up to me. No Roman this time. Hopefully muscle memory was good for something. I sunk into a low stance, closed my eyes and tried to will my body to act. Dr. Wehr said that I didn’t have it in me to attack humans, but he’d never said anything about creepy shadows with a fungi fetish. I opened my eyes and lunged, slicing the shadow in half with the blade of my hand. Inky splotches puffed in the air where I struck it.

  Well, that was easy, I began to think, and then suddenly the remaining shadow wrapped around my arm and slid up around my throat. I fought it as it throttled me, losing my footing and sliding down the gravel slope on my bottom as I tried to pry it off.

  Around me the sounds of a battle were loud, but I had no time to focus on any of them. I was locked in a life or death battle with a deadly shadow.

  Roman!

  No. This was on me. It was time for me to do this. Did that mean I would die because I couldn’t fight? Pretty much.

  The shadow around my neck jerked, and I choked at the added pressure, drumming my heels against the gravel, arms flailing. Suddenly, the pressure was gone, and I felt something like a thick snake slide from around my neck. My skidding stopped and but I was sitting in a pool of shadow. I tried to touch it, but like a real shadow, there was nothing to feel. I looked up.

  I was sitting at the base of the canyon, having slid all the way down the ground we’d gained as I grappled for my life. Far above, the rest of our group was cresting the canyon’s edge. I remembered there were screams, but if the others had been fighting there were no signs of it now.

  Ian, in all his demi-god-like glory, huffed beside me, hands on his knees. Even fighting a snake-like shadow down a hill of loose stones wasn’t enough to dishevel him beyond attractiveness. It was something that went beyond his genetically modified perfection and reached into that command presence he’d inherited from his father.

  He gave me a quizzical look.

  “What happened to your amazing shadow-fighting skills?” he asked.

  “It came out of nowhere,” I said.

  “They all do,” he said, still looking at me with more intensity than was justified, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted me dead or wanted me for an ally. At least there was some indecision there now, even if it were only the result of my shadow-fighting skills. “Is it just me, or do they seem to be making strange choices in tactics?”

  “They’re making strange choices,” I admitted, massaging my neck.

  “It doesn’t take a tactical expert to wonder why they don’t just slaughter us all. There are way more of them out there than there are of us, and most of us aren’t armed.”

  His hands were on his hips and he was studying the tree line, like he was seeing something in his mind’s eye.

  “Maybe it’s a test of some kind,” I suggested, turning to re-braiding my disheveled hair.

  “We aren’t the first humans to come here,” he said, his blue eyes flashing in the white Baldric light.

  “Well, then maybe they are testing us specifically,” I said, absently.

  I was trying to decide what to do about him. Should I push him to trust me, or give him space to form his own conclusions? Despite his current hatred of me, he was my most likely potential ally. Provided I wanted to live at all.

  He gave me a pointed look, like I was being purposely obtuse.

  “You think they are testing me, specifically, because I am a Matsumoto,” I said. “Unlikely.”

  He sighed and ran a tanned hand through his perfect hair.

  “All I know, Vera, is that me and all my friends have done nothing but suffer or die since meeting you.”

  I felt a lump form in my throat because it was absolutely true. I hated that it was true.

  “Are you suggesting that I should leave you all and walk off into this alien forest as a kind of ...sacrifice?”

  He cleaned his teeth with his tongue. “Maybe. It might be our best bet.”

  It was cold. But I was used to cold. It was also accurate.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said, and I meant it.

  At heart I am an honourable person. If this really had to do with me, or if I thought it would do any good I’d go make myself into fungi art with the others. I wasn’t above self-sacrifice. That’s the part of being a Matsumoto that people forget.

  But you’re not a Matsumoto anymore, I reminded myself. Could I stop being one if that’s still how everyone saw me? Yes. No. Not really. I could stop being one in my mind, but I couldn’t stop being one to them. I could only redefine what that meant.

  “We should climb the hill,” I said, tired as much from the mental struggle as the physical one.

  We climbed the sliding rocks at half the speed o
f last time. It was more grinding having already done it once. Especially, since we were making the trek alone this time. No one called down to us, but every so often I saw a marine look over the edge to gauge our progress.

  “How much more air do you think is in these oxygen tanks?” Ian asked.

  Monitor oxygen tank use, I told my implant.

  Oxygen tank at 78%.

  “The rest of the day, maybe longer,” I said.

  “That’s not much time.”

  I nodded, changing my feet to try to use the flat edge of my foot as a wedge in the sliding rock rather than stepping straight on.

  “Look, Ian,” I started in a soft voice. I wasn’t much good at apologies, and this one seemed bigger than most.

  “Don’t...” he said.

  I guess we could talk about tactics, but not what really mattered

  When we finally crested the top of the canyon, the air between us was cold and tense again. I felt a pang of regret, of sadness, but only for a moment. We started to walk again.

  The forest here was less dense, and the landscape rolled in every direction. Stretches of striped monochrome grass dominated the view, and low purple bushes dotted the ridges. Above us a huge white moon filled half the sky, despite the white sunlight. Two others were small yellow dots in the distance. Three moons in the day – it would take some getting used to, but it was beautiful. The sky seemed a touch too purple, reminding me that the atmosphere here was not the same as the ones on most of the inhabited worlds. It could probably be changed with terraforming, and doubtless the colony was working on that, but for now the alien color reminded us that we were not home.

  “We’re headed that way,” Corporal Maxwell said, pointing to the chain of colonists in the distance, working their way in the direction of the colony. Their feet beat a chalky path in the pale dust.

  “Couldn’t have waited for us?” Ian grumbled.

  “There’s a human installation of some kind. If it’s one of ours we can stay there and sleep,” Maxwell said, slipping off his helmet and rubbing the sweat off his bald head. “So don’t gripe.”

  It was clear from his tone that he wished he wasn’t burdened with a bunch of people who were prisoners in all but name.