Pills were recalled almost as fast as they had been produced as our mental wards began to stack up with patients, but it was too late for many, many victims. The awful side effects didn’t tend to show up for months or even years and they were totally unpredictable – one person might be only mildly affected while others could be howling at one of the moons.
Looking back, it was one of the most devastating failures of modern technology. My parent’s generation still had huge holes in it where our best and brightest had been cut down by the promise of the pill. I was grateful that implant technology wasn’t the same way. It didn’t rewrite your brain, merely supplemented it with a computer. I didn’t run the risk of shorting out my own mind when I used that technology. I was also grateful that the pill had been removed from use before I was even born.
Idly, I pulled out a ration pack, thinking I might be able to eat after all. I glanced at the ingredients listed on the side, almost laughing at myself for my own paranoia. At the bottom of the list it was there in bold letters: Compound VX-7.
I felt my stomach drop, and my grip loosened at the same time. I dropped the e-rat pack on the floor. My hand flew up to cover my mouth, and the blood drained from my face. They were still lacing the rations of the colonists. What were they thinking? Or did they care? After all, we were nothing but prisoners and marines. All of us were expendable: walking ghosts before our time. I wanted to be sick.
The video was still playing on my vision and Sanderson was talking.
“The pills are having unexpected effects on our personnel...”
No kidding.
“We have made some gains in trying to communicate, but the aliens relentlessly continue to pursue any colonist that leaves the compounds. As crazy as it might sound, we wonder if it is...her... effecting them this way.”
Who could “her” be? A scientist? A colonist? Another alien? You’d think a scientist would be more precise. Unless, there was some reason that she couldn’t say the person’s name out loud. Maybe she didn’t know it? Or was it a political prisoner so sensitive that they couldn’t record the person’s name for fear that these records would someday confirm her presence here?
These videos left me with as many questions as I had answers. I ran a hand over my forehead, trying to wipe the nervous sweat forming. It didn’t help that Patrick Driscoll was quietly slipping over to where I was, careful not to wake the others sleeping all around him. He sat down beside me.
“So now we talk, Ms. Matsumoto.”
Chapter Twelve
“You’ve been killing my family,” I said. Sometimes the best diplomacy is truthfulness.
“That’s quite the accusation.”
“My cousin, Denise Matsumoto, was a young woman who just went through a terrible trauma.”
“Denise Matsumoto was one of the leaders of a system that systematically penalizes its citizens in order to keep them within its iron fist. Denise Matsumoto was breaking the laws her own family put into place. Denise Matsumoto was a representative of a family more interested in power than the needs of its people.”
Well, that was all true. We were definitely more interested in keeping power than protecting people. I learned that the hard way through my own experience with Roman. And the computer implant in my head was evidence that every one of us was breaking the law we made banning body modifications, so yes, we all broke the rules.
I still hated him for killing my friend.
“She was a young girl. She wasn’t culpable for the crimes you’ve listed.”
He cocked his head to the side.
“You are the same age she was. Are you culpable for your crimes?”
I didn’t answer.
“Because I notice that the Emperor has imprisoned you. And I watched the news report that showed your banishment to Capricornia before that. Both were punishments for crimes you committed, right?”
“Yes,” I said, through gritted teeth, and with my cheeks flaming.
“So, are you culpable?”
“Yes.” I have never denied that I deserved the punishments I’d been given.
“And therefore, Denise was also culpable, and I was right to hold her accountable.”
“No,” I said, fire in my eyes. “It’s not the same thing.”
“So your Emperor can dish out any punishments he pleases, but the people cannot?”
“I broke the law willingly and with knowledge of what I was doing. The crimes you accuse Denise of breaking are things she was born into.”
“So you are the result of the choices you make?” His eyes held a glint, like he was maneuvering me into something. The corner of his upper lip twitched.
“Yes.”
“What if those choices were never yours to begin with?”
I glared at him. He was suggesting I was a pawn being manipulated by my family and government.
“I am Vera Matsumoto. I am here because I chose to defy my family and our creed. I do not accept that I am a victim. I’m the one who made those choices.”
“Author of your fate? Pilot of your soul?” he asked, an ironic twist in his lips. “Don’t be so naïve.”
We sank into silence. I seethed with hatred for him. He looked at me with eyes of judgment and disgust. I wanted to hit him with my fists, for all the good that would do.
Download fighting program.
Sorry, there are no Matsumoto files for violence.
It was an extra-long shot. After all, we are prohibited from physical violence of any kind. It would never make sense to give us programs that would teach us those things when using them would mean immediate execution. Or, in my case, a long drawn out death of torture by a million tiny deaths.
“I hate you all. Even you, a tiny teenager. I hate you, too,” Patrick said, in a cold, distant voice.
“I am aware that you are a terrorist,” I said.
“I prefer the term patriot.” He stuck his chin out.
“So, to be clear, you’ll be happy when I die?”
“One more down. Only a few more to go.”
Only a few? How many of us had he killed already? I felt an icicle stab my spine. Things just kept getting brighter and cheerier around here.
“I thought you were already dead,” he said casually, but he darted a glance at me out the side of his eyes, and I realized that this was why he wanted to talk to me.
“I’m lucky, I guess.”
He laughed, and it sounded harsh.
“I meant that I thought you were dead because I saw it in the news. Complete with pictures. Your Emperor acted splendidly when he executed you in front of the cameras, walking the perfect line between a firm Emperor and a saddened cousin. It’s so hard to be the ultimate ruler and have to maintain the law even with your own blood. His fake concern made me want to throw up.” He flicked a hand, disparagingly. “Their special effects department must be superior to fool interplanetary news agencies. They check for that kind of doctoring.”
The blood drained from my face. Had Roman seen that? Did he believe it? What did he make of our body-mind-splitting? Did he think it was just a dream? A memory of a friend now dead?
I felt like I’d been kicked in the belly. A gasp escaped me. It was the little smile, dancing around the corners of Patrick’s mouth that made me pull myself together. He was enjoying my pain. I wanted to dish it back to him, but there were no Matsumoto files on violence. No Matsumoto files. Were there other files?
Are there other files in my implant not under the Matsumoto file headings?
There are the files downloaded from the Baldric facility.
I knew about those, obviously.
And the guardian files.
I couldn’t fully suppress the widening of my eyes. It had never occurred to me that the guardian files would be stored on my implant as well.
Access guardian files.
Access denied. Please input code.
I clenched my fist until my nails dug into my palm. They were password protected. But who would h
ave set the password? It would be impossible to guess it without knowing that.
“You understand, then, what your family does?” Patrick asked, and I wondered if this was a first step in trying to turn me to his ‘side,’ whatever that was. It felt like turning an asset. That had been discussed in my training. Did he think that eight years of diplomacy training wouldn’t have included asset management?
I looked him directly in the eyes and spoke with deliberation.
“I understand my family, and what they do, better than you ever will.”
Nigel had used me as a pawn. Perhaps all my relatives had. But I was not that child anymore, and if Patrick Driscoll thought I would dance to his tune, he could think again.
He grunted, and stood up, weighing me with his eyes, but he said nothing. Round one went to me. About time I won at something, even if it was just possession of my own choices. Right now those choices were limited to how I would die, but it was better than letting him choose that.
He sauntered back to the other wall and pretended to go to sleep. I did the same. I needed time to process everything. This time I slept soundly and awoke to my implant pinging. It was planetary dawn and time to move out.
“Everyone up. Gear on. Masks on. We head out,” I said, to a chorus of grumbles.
Well, they’d wanted a leader. I could ‘leader’ with the best of them.
Chapter Thirteen
The shuttle door opened up to another gorgeous Baldric morning. Light filtered through the purple leaves as the first rim of the sun peeked over the edge of the horizon, leaving a golden glow behind the plum-toned leaves and milky white tree trunks. The striped grass swayed in a delicate wind and the dew brought out scents of flowers and plants unlike any I had ever experienced before. They were alluring and inspiring all at once, in stark contrast to the inhabitants of this dreadful place. My heart began to swell with a tiny spark of hope at the beauty, and then I took a step out, turning to the left and I saw the first casualty of last night.
A grim spire rose into the air, glowing a sickly chartreuse in the golden dawn. At its base a man with dark skin and hair, like mine, and an identical skinsuit froze in the calcified rictus of his death. My hope turned to acid in my belly. I swallowed hard, glad I was avoiding the supplement-laced food.
“This way,” I murmured, leading the colonists around the totem of death. I clutched my flechette gun in both hands. It wasn’t the most inspiring thing a leader could say, but I wasn’t feeling very inspirational.
“Not so fast,” Driscoll said from behind me.
I raised my eyebrows in a question.
“Sammy goes up front, too,” he said, not even looking at the horror beside me.
I didn’t care where Sammy went. Guards posted in the front and rear had done nothing to help so far, so they could walk wherever they wanted for all I cared. Sammy hurried up to where I was, brandishing the other flechette, and I noted that Mutambi had his gun back, and Ch’ng had Fergus’. However that had been sorted out had been quiet enough that I’d missed it. At least no one had died over it.
Again, I wished I had access to that databank. I tried Edward’s name. He was my guardian when these systems were installed. If anyone had a code it was him. Roman hadn’t even known he had an implant before they set him loose to guard me, so he wouldn’t have access codes.
Code failure. Two more tries until complete system lock out.
Great. So I couldn’t guess randomly, I’d have to think it through carefully. Nothing was coming to me. Other than being a guardian, Edward cared about very little in this life.
Sammy and I led the way along a steep ridge, heading northwest. Ian and Ch’ng followed close on our heels. Driscoll and Mutambi were next and then the rest scattered themselves in a winding snake behind us. The space between my shoulder blades itched furiously with tension. I was worried with every step that someone was going to fire a few flechettes there.
What in the world could Edward’s code be?
We had hardly gone a kilometer before I heard the echo. By now, I was beginning to suspect that it was not my implant acting up – or at least, if it was, then it was acting up in direct response to shadows appearing. It echoed in my skull so loudly that it was all I could do to hold on to my flechette gun, rather than put my hands to my ears.
“Everyone keep an eye out for shadows,” I ordered.
“Shadows,” Sammy snorted, but I had noticed he wouldn’t look at that ghastly pillar back at the shuttle.
To try to distract from the echo I turned on the video play-back on my implant.
“They keep luring her to them, somehow, trying to trap her. It’s as if they know who she is, as if they are targeting her specifically, but why would they do that? We all have theories, but none of us will speak them out loud. Dr. Naro even asked her, but she refused to say what she thought. It is hard to complete our studies without all the information.”
No kidding. If only I had more information. Why hadn’t the aliens slaughtered us already? Why did they let us sleep in safety? What was the code to the implant databank?
We walked for two hours in silence, our eyes scanning the edges of the trees for shadows, as our feet found a path in the rocky terrain. Red inverted carets popped up and then disappeared from my sight. A part of me wished they would just get it over with although the rest of me was trying to strangle that part.
“They’re everywhere,” Sammy said eventually.
“Yes,” I agreed.
“Where?” Ch’ng asked from behind us, looking nervous.
“Don’t get jumpy, Ch’ng,” I warned. “No one wants to get shot in the back with that flesh-ripper.”
He ignored me.
“I still don’t see anything.”
“I think they’re trying to talk to me,” Sammy said in a strange way.
I looked at him piercingly. He seemed like the stereotypical marine, right down to the haircut, which was odd on a criminal. He held the gun like he planned to marry it later. Not a criminal, I reminded myself, a terrorist – and an effective one. Also a suspicious one.
“What are they saying?” I asked, humoring him.
“That they want me to fight them.”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about that. All we’ve been doing is fighting them.”
“Not everyone,” he said, his eyes looking a bit wild, “Just me. It’s an honor thing.”
“That’s stupid,” I said. “I mean, die if you want, but there are thousands of them.”
We trudged along, now in silence. I think everyone was as worried as I was that Sammy would go off the deep end at any moment. Only Driscoll seemed unconcerned.
It was four hours into our day that I ordered us to stop for a break. We drank, took care of business, they ate – I was still wary, and I took a break from my endless science recordings. I turned my thoughts to the password again,
Please input code, my implant said.
I was so distracted with racking my brain that I didn’t notice that Sammy had wandered off about sixty meters. He had left his pack behind, bringing only the flechette gun. I opened my mouth to call to him, but then I saw them. All around him was a ring of shadows. He stretched his muscles, rolling his shoulders, and they darkened, intensifying by the second.
“Sammy, you fool, get back here!” Driscoll cried from beside me.
Sammy ignored him, laying the flechette gun down. The rest of us were silent, fear of the shadows warring with fascination at a man committing suicide before our eyes.
“I need to prove myself, Mr. Driscoll,” Sammy said.
“Don’t be an idiot!” Driscoll yelled, but Sammy ignored him.
All at once the shadows closed in, and Sammy began to dance an intricate series of fighting stances, kicking, punching and whirling his way in and out of the shadows. They spurted their ink-like puffs of smoke at every hit, and widened as he fought hard, tightened when his intensity momentarily slipped. Together they were locked in a deadly dance.
&nb
sp; I wished I could fight like that. Edward’s words spoke clearly in my memory, ‘Don’t ever worry about fighting, Little Robin, I will always protect you.’
The memory was bittersweet. As much as I would love Edward’s protection right now, he would have been horrified at what I’d sunk to.
In a moment of inspiration I entered the code.
Little Robin.
His pet name for me. My heart lurched a little.
Access Granted.
I didn’t have time to celebrate. Sammy still danced his martial arts forms at impossible speeds, battling a large shadow in a ring of at least a dozen other shadows. Behind the ring hundreds more pressed in, waiting for their chance to duel him.
“Holy-” Ch’ng said. “He’s amazing. What did he do before he was sent here?”
“Revolutionary,” Driscoll grunted, his eyes never leaving his comrade. His voice broke at the end of the word and he cleared his throat and then spoke more gruffly. “And before than he was a high ranking Blackwatch marine.”
Mutambi whistled under his breath and I felt myself wanting to join him. Sammy was impressive. Why had he thrown so much talent away on a fool’s mission? As talented as he was, he was vastly outnumbered, and there was no way he could take them all. And then what? Would they turn on us? They had been shadowing us all this way, singing to Sammy, but leaving the rest of us alone. What would they do once he was a pillar of fungi? The thought made my palms sweat.
I surveyed the area. The ground before us climbed slowly to a shallow rise. If we had to stand our ground somewhere that would be the only place. It was open and rocky with only one large tree. The ground was covered in a swirling plant that looked like the inside of a purple cabbage, but it clung to the rocks and wouldn’t impede us.
What were our options? Should we assist Sammy? There were too many. Should we flee? Maybe. Turn to the rise and set up a defensive position? That was probably our best bet – for now at least.
“We’ll set up a defensive position on that rise,” I said, pointing.
The Splitting (The Matsumoto Trilogy Book 2) Page 8