The Splitting (The Matsumoto Trilogy Book 2)

by Sarah K. L. Wilson

  I raised an eyebrow, and I would have replied, except that my implant swept me into Roman’s world, leaving my own a faint ghost overlaid on my vision.

  In this world I was on the receiving end of a beating, rather than the giving end. I thrashed in Roman’s body, feeling the sting of a whiplash across my back. My wrists and feet were shackled in leather and strung taut to opposite walls. Blood dripped around my back, hugging the curve of my ribs and spattering to the floor.

  I was in a square, steel room, riveted along the seams. The door was a hatch. It screamed ‘starship’ to my experienced eyes. Before me a marine officer stood.

  “Your punishment is for failure to the Matsumotos. As you know, in the marines we do not use corporal punishment for failures. This is the one exception. You have failed our Dynasty. Your failure has caused the death of one of the blood. For your failure you shall receive forty lashes. Consider it a light punishment.”

  I reeled in pain as the next lash cut across my back. My head thundered with my blood racing so fast to the tune of my beating heart. My vision was blanking and returning with each lash stroke. The pain was intense – so intense I didn’t know why Roman wasn’t screaming. I was pretty sure I was, back in my body.

  The terrible things inflicted by my family, or in the name of my family, were more and greater than I had ever imagined. Despite the intense pain, I could still think clearly enough to contemplate this. I knew that somehow the Matsumotos had to end. But who can end a disease that ran this deep into our society? The only one who could put an end to them was someone on the inside and I wasn’t inside anymore. I wasn’t even a Matsumoto anymore.

  “When your punishment is over,” the officer continued, “You will continue on to the mission you were briefed on. You know as well as I do that no marine assigned there has ever returned. Don’t think of it as a death sentence. Think of it as a way to regain our confidence in you as a marine. Good Luck.”

  I wanted to spit at the marine’s sanctimonious speech. They were going to send Roman – my Roman! – to his death with the pathetic covering that it was a chance to prove himself loyal and capable after a devastating failure. It was as false as it was cruel, and I hated them for doing it to him.

  The officer left, but the whipping kept on coming. The pain, the pain, the pain was endless.

  Roman, I screamed through our connection. Please, please hold on. I’ll find a way to save you. I promise.

  My tears were hot on my cheeks back in Baldric, and my connection was fading to Roman.

  Please, hold on! I won’t abandon you. I’m here.

  The pain came back strongly one more time as I surged back into his world.

  Vera? Are you alive.

  Be strong. I’ll find a way.

  Behind me the man administering the whipping leaned in close and said, “It was an impossible task, but now the only Matsumoto alive is the Emperor, and that’s your fault.”

  Not true. I said.

  Not true? Roman echoed, and then the pain began again and I faded back to my own body.

  I was screaming in my own body with the pain still washing over my mind. Someone was sitting on my chest.

  The pain left suddenly with a wash of relief so strong I was almost giddy from it. Someone was cursing loudly. I looked up. It was Roberta sitting on me and cursing while the Lieutenant had her nettlegun centered on my forehead and the men each had one of my arms pinned down.

  This wasn’t what I’d hoped for when I turned the tables, but at least they clearly saw me as someone to worry about.

  My chest heaved as I sucked in cool ultra-rich Baldric oxygen. For the first time since leaving the installation I wondered if that was okay. Was I going to start suffering from oxygen toxicity now?

  Symptoms of oxygen toxicity?

  Disorientation, breathing problems, myopia, collapsed alveoli, retinal detachment, seizures...

  Well, so far so good, except maybe for the disorientation.

  “What was that, Matsumoto?” Driscoll asked.

  “What was what?” I asked.

  Kitsano jabbed the barrel of the gun into my forehead and I grunted.

  “I was trying to show you all that I can’t be maneuvered like a pawn and then I blacked out. All this ultra-rich oxygen isn’t good for me.”

  The Baldric Three exchanged glances while Driscoll said, “You grabbed your head, started screaming and then keeled over.”

  “Oxygen toxicity,” I said, sticking to my far-fetched story.

  “Maybe,” Michael said, answering an unspoken question from Kitsano. “Unlikely, but maybe. They don’t have our protection.”

  “What protection?” Driscoll asked.

  “The original scientists weren’t just tinkering with our ability to communicate. They gave us nano-bots that triggered mutations to adapt to the atmosphere after they terraformed the planet. Together the results are enough that we can live without supplemental air.”

  “But we’re going to go crazy?” Driscoll asked, pointing at me. “Like she just did?”

  “You’re going to have lung and eye troubles after prolonged exposure. Disorientation maybe, or worse symptoms later on, but I wouldn’t have expected this kind of outburst,” Michael said.

  “Either way, we can’t trust her now. Either she’s out of her mind or out to get us.” Roberta sure was a ray of sunshine.

  “Let her up for now. I have her covered,” Kitsano said, and I was eased up into a sitting position.

  I was grateful to have Roberta off my chest. I wasn’t feeling very fond of her at the present.

  But what did I do now that the tables were turned again? The combat programs could probably take them back down, but what if I dropped into Romans mind again? I was going to need allies to fulfill my promise to him. Maybe these renegades were my best option. They were certainly my most immediate option.

  Something had changed inside me as I felt Roman suffering, yet again, at the hands of my family - or at least at the hands of the people representing my family. This had to end. I was beginning to realize that I might be the only one who could end it. Roman had been right all along, and so had Driscoll. It was time to start thinking about claiming the Empire myself.

  I couldn’t help but laugh internally. Here I sat, one eye patched up, my hair a ruin, without allies or weapons and held prisoner on a planet of hostile aliens with no way to leave or to communicate with the outside world, and yet I had decided that I would be Emperor. Maybe I really was going crazy.

  I remember the day I lost my mind. It was a Tuesday on Baldric.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  So, you want to be Emperor, I thought, as they trussed me up like a pig they were going to roast. You want to right all wrongs and fix the world. I would have thought you were too cynical for that.

  I didn’t ask to be a crusader and rescuer of my people. I didn’t ask to overthrow my cousin, but I felt horribly responsible for Roman’s fate. His life was hanging by a thread because no Matsumoto has found and ended the poison flowing through our heritage. I was deeply marked by the devastation I saw here on Baldric. It was because of us that genocide was perpetrated here.

  I could leave it to terrorists like Driscoll, but while terrorists are great at destroying systems they don’t have a great track record for putting them back together. Neil Matsumoto was an exception, but a rare one.

  It seemed that like it or not, I was the last person left who could heal Blackwatch from within without spinning her into utter chaos.They bred us Matsumoto cousins for many things – non-violence, obedience, loyalty, yes, but also for responsibility and duty. It was my turn to step up to my duty, even if it meant my death.

  I would save Blackwatch.

  I would save Roman.

  I let out a deep breath, relieved at the certainty that came with purpose. I hardly noticed the argument between Kitsano and Driscoll in front of my face. I had just finished a difficult battle. It was the very first of what would hopefully be a long string of
victories, but there was no time to rest on my laurels.

  Search all downloaded databases for references to Matsumotos in relation to Baldric.

  Four hundred and thirty-two references found.

  Sort out the references in official signatures and stick with references in video logs and reports.

  Four references found.

  Play logs in sequence.

  The first showed a scientist in the video log. He was giving a report.

  “We have informed Ambassador Matsumoto of the possible consequences. Genocide and destruction of the fauna and ecosystem of Baldric are almost certain if this line of terraforming continues. Our orders are to continue by order of the Emperor and of Ambassador Matsumoto.”

  It cut off as the computer played the next snippet. A man in a marine’s uniform spoke.

  “The current batch of prisoners includes the prisoner we have been instructed to refer to only as a number. She is a personal prisoner of the Matsumoto Dynasty. I must stress that I cannot reasonably obey my orders while detaining her and I would ask that I be relieved of the command of this colony.”

  The next scientist appeared in a split screen with a starship officer. It seemed like a remote communication. Her eyes were wide with terror.

  “It’s her. She’s with them. Somehow they listen to her, but we don’t know why. She wasn’t a shadow before she joined them, but now she’s their leader and she’s out for revenge.”

  “Who is?”

  “Matsumoto,” she whispered, and her eyes whipsawed back and forth as if she could watch every direction at once.

  He hissed, “Don’t say that name. It’s classified.”

  The recordings faded out. I could go back and listen to them in context, but I’d gleaned what I’d hoped for. As I had suspected, we were responsible for what had happened to this planet, and as I already knew, I was not the first Matsumoto imprisoned here. It was time to make a plan and to do something about this.

  I let myself fade back into the world my body was in.

  “No, this just happens sometimes. She fades out for a few minutes,” Driscoll was saying to Kitsano. She still had her gun braced against my forehead.

  “It’s happened before?”

  “Yes, and then she goes off and does something crazy, like riding a shadow beast, or saving all our lives, or calling you guys. I don’t know how she does it, but she does. It’s something about her, but I’m telling you that if you want off this planet she’s your ticket out. Don’t kill her.”

  “I thought you hated me,” I said.

  He looked at me, relief flooding his face, “You’re back.”

  “I had work to do,” I said with a frown.

  “Well we kind of needed you here,” he said in a tight voice.

  “Looks like you had it covered,” I said.

  He’d said he hated me. Why did he fight so hard to save my life? Was it just to use me to get off-planet? My gut was roiling. It had all kinds of reservations about Driscoll.

  “Now that we’re done playing ‘happy reunion,’ why don’t you tell us why you should live?” Roberta said.

  “Because I didn’t kill you when I could have,” I said. She was really getting on my nerves.

  “Matsumotos don’t kill,” Kitsano said dismissively.

  “Then why do you have a gun to my head?” I asked.

  She lowered the barrel, as if to prove her point, but it was still pointed in my direction, and I was still trussed up.

  “Here’s a thought,” I said, “Why don’t you give me some details and I’ll tell you how I can help.”

  “Seems reasonable,” Michael said, from off to the side. He was the only reasonable one of all of us. “Here’s our problem: We left the colony in a hurry and we could only bring limited tech with us. Since then, every time we’ve tried to return to the colony the shadows have prevented us from getting in – until we came for the two of you. We don’t know why. Each time a new group of colonists arrives we try to communicate and join forces.”

  “But so far no one has taken us seriously before they were killed by the Javierians,” Roberta said. “And the ones who did take us seriously kept us too busy to allow us near their technology before it was too late.”

  “We want to leave Baldric,” Michael continued, “To do that, we need to communicate with a starship. Our technology here can’t communicate with them directly, but there is a satellite that can. However, we can’t seem to get access to the satellite’s systems.”

  “So what you need,” I said, “Is to communicate with the satellite to discover when a ship will arrive. You need to access the satellite’s communications, which can probably only be done at the colony, in order to talk to the starship. You then need to convince the Captain to rescue the three of you, and you need to do all of this without being killed by the shadows or stopped by the colony.”

  “Precisely,” said Michael.

  “And you think she can help,” Driscoll said, and it wasn’t a question.

  Roberta looked away and Michael looked at his feet, but Kitsano looked me in the eyes.

  “We know that you Matsumotos have a way with the Javierians,” she said, “We’ve seen it in action before. And we know that you have ...advantages...in communicating with technology. You’re also recognizable enough that maybe a starship Captain would speak to you.”

  I nodded. Driscoll’s eyes narrowed.

  “What do you say? Would you like to stop fighting us and lend a hand?” she asked, her mouth twisted in a wry expression.

  “Yes,” I said, and I saw their shoulders sag with relief. Too soon. “But, I won’t be your prisoner or your pawn. I’ll be your partner, or nothing.”

  “What does that mean?” Roberta asked, taking a step forward.

  “It means no more sticking guns in my face or pressing buttons on devices attached to my brain,” I answered, coolly.

  “And in exchange?” Lieutenant Kitsano asked.

  “In exchange I won’t knock you all on the ground when you untie me,” I said, frowning.

  I didn’t like threatening them. I’ve seen so much violence of so many kinds in the past few months that you’d think I’d be immune, but I’m not. I’m especially not immune to being the cause of it. I hope I never am, or I’ll have lost myself.

  Driscoll cleared his throat and looked at me meaningfully. My eyebrows knit together as I racked my brain to try to think of what he might be nudging me to do. Did I need to be more specific? He sounded awfully like an irritated tutor trying to remind a child of something.

  “And, well,” I said, feeling awkward, “I also should say ‘thank-you’ for rescuing me.”

  Driscoll looked smug. I must have guessed what he was getting at. I colored under his gaze, irritated at being treated like a child.

  “We don’t need her that badly,” Roberta said with a head toss.

  “We’ve been at this a long time,” Michael said with a sigh. “Our last plan was our last ditch effort, and you saw how that ended.”

  Roberta flinched.

  “How did it end?” Driscoll asked, his eyes narrowing. “I think I’d like to know what hasn’t worked.”

  Michael flushed, and no one looked like they were going to answer.

  “Patrick Driscoll is the head of a terrorist organization known as Driscoll’s Own.” I said. “He is personally responsible for the murder of innocents, among them many members of my family.”

  My eyes had grown rock hard as I spoke and Driscoll raised his chin at the threat in my words.

  “Is that true?” Kitsano asked.

  “It’s true that I lead Driscoll’s Own,” Driscoll said, almost like he was proud of it. “Whatever you’ve done, I’ve probably done worse.”

  “We didn’t plan on doing anything,” Roberta said sullenly.

  “It was our error, though,” Michael said, “We tried to hack the programming on the emergency shuttles of El Dorado. We’d tried communication and couldn’t get through and we tr
ied to call the emergency shuttles and couldn’t get our signal through, but we could read their communications, and we planted a hack.”

  “That’s pretty sophisticated stuff,” Driscoll said.

  “Well, I used to specialize in communications before...” Michael’s voice trailed off as he tried to convey the enormity of his position. “But it’s been a while, and I did something wrong and the hack deleted navigation code in El Dorado, not just the shuttles, and the next thing we knew...”

  He spread his hands like he was cradling a mushroom cloud.

  “Kablooie,” Roberta finished for him. “The idiot wrecked our only chance and killed thousands of sailors, colonists and marines. I assume you know that since you were aboard. What was it like to live through an emergency like that?”

  “I was in a detached shuttle,” Driscoll said.

  “Lucky.”

  “So that was your last ditch effort? Why don’t you just stroll into the colony and ask for help?”

  “We told you we tried that.”

  “And? It couldn’t have been so bad. After all, you’re still here.”

  “We are,” Roberta said bitterly, “But I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but we have a lot of stuff here and a pretty big set up. Did you think three people built this? There were originally twenty five of us deserters.”

  Kitsano shot her a warning look, but I’d heard the word loud and clear.

  “Deserters?” I asked quietly, looking Kitsano in the eye.

  She watched me for a long time, anger, failure and embarrassment all warring behind her eyes. Eventually she gave an abbreviated nod and stepped towards me with a sigh. I wasn’t sure what she was planning, but the last thing I expected was a knife slipping out from her uniform. She flicked it open, demons warring in her eyes. I didn’t bother going through the whole mental chorus of “am-I-really-going-to-die-like-this” again. It was getting old.

  Surprisingly, she didn’t stab me. Instead, she cut the bonds off my wrists and ankles. I relaxed, massaging my wrists where a thin purple line cut deep into my flesh.

  “So now you know our secrets,” Kitsano said, frowning.