“Launch in two minutes,” Kitsano reminded from the co-pilot’s chair. I was uncomfortably aware that while she could count the launch down Driscoll was the only human we had who could fly the bird.
You need to listen to me...to us, Zeta broke in. The voices in my head were never patient. Regardless, I needed to sort Driscoll out first. It was hard to think amidst so many voices.
“You aren’t hearing me, Vera,” Driscoll said. His face flushed as he spoke and strong emotion burned behind his eyes. It was partly that blazing look I’d been seeing so often, but also partly something else. There was enough fury in this shuttle right now to replace her fusion reactor. “I didn’t kill your cousin. I didn’t order her killed.”
Oh really? They just magically died? Roman was quivering in his chair despite my reassuring touch. I guess he couldn’t wait for my explanation after all. I hoped he wasn’t accidentally subvocalizing, or Captain Sato’s com officer would be getting quite the earful.
You saw them, didn’t you? I asked. The children?
He turned so I could see his eyes. The unshed tears in them, glistening extra-large and bright reminded me that he was barely out of childhood himself. They were all the confirmation I needed.
“Thirty seconds to launch,” Kitsano said, in the tone of a parent to misbehaving children. She was looking more solid here in the shuttle than I’d ever seen her.
Driscoll erupted from his seat so suddenly that Ch’ng flinched out of the way. He filled the small cockpit. Roman lunged to his feet beside me, but he was too late.
Driscoll took a step, seized me by the collar, and lifted me to my feet, his face inches from mine. Adrenaline jabbed my heart into overdrive and I fought to control my breath and remain calm. I was no fool, though. I booted the Tactical Interface.
“I swore to you, Vera. I swore. And none of this is going to work if you don’t believe me,” he said, inches from my face. Roman looked like he was going to attack.
Don’t, I said to him, Not yet.
Driscoll’s tone turned to pleading. “Please, Vera. I need you to believe. We are not terrorists. Yes, we are freedom fighters, but not terrorists. I can’t explain right now, but you need to know. Think, Vera! If we didn’t kill the Matsumotos – and I’m telling you we didn’t! – then who did?”
My eyes narrowed in concentration and Driscoll began to nod.
“Exactly,” he said, though I hadn’t voiced my answer. He put me down, looking slightly chagrined. His fists flexing and unflexing for a moment and his eyes on the floor and then on my face, and then back on the floor like he wanted to apologize, but couldn’t. Then he shook himself and sat back down in his seat, clipping the five-point harness back together and nodding to Kitsano.
“Clear for takeoff?”
“All clear” she acknowledged.
“Then all passengers prepare for takeoff in five...”
Who killed them if it wasn’t Driscoll? We had solid evidence it was his organization, Roman said, fury still lacing his thoughts.
“...four...”
Evidence provided by who?
Imperial investigators.
“...three...”
The government, I confirmed. I knew what Driscoll was saying.
So what?
“...two...”
So, who would kill us if not Driscoll?
A foreign power?
“...one...”
Then why make it look like terrorists? I asked, only to answer my own question. Because it was him. Nigel Matsumoto.
“...launching now!”
The shuttle took off at a sharp angle, throwing us back in our seats, the in-atmosphere rotors whining as they grabbed the air to fling us towards the heavens. From the viewport beside me the wreck of The El Dorado shrank to a gnat and the horrible chartreuse pillars shrank with it until the planet became an amethyst jewel, heart-piercing in its glory, set against a velvet backdrop.
You really should listen, Vera Matsumoto, my mother chastised in my mind.
This is not the time. What could you possibly know about Patrick Driscoll? You’ve been out of circulation for twelve years, I snapped, frustrated and taking it out on one of the people who couldn’t get away from me any more than I could get away from her.
Patrick Driscoll is your father.
My gasp was loud enough that the whole cockpit heard it.
Behind the Scenes:
USA Today bestselling author, Sarah K. L. Wilson, hails from the rocky Canadian Shield in Northern Ontario where she lives with her husband and two small boys. Her interests include the outdoors, history, and philosophy. Her books are always about fantastical adventures in other worlds.
Sarah would like to thank Curtis Crowe and Sarah Brown for their incredible work in beta reading and proofreading this book. Without their big hearts and passion for stories, this book would not be the same. She would also like to thank her patient and supportive husband Cale, without whom these stories would not be possible.
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The Splitting (The Matsumoto Trilogy Book 2) Page 23