The Splitting (The Matsumoto Trilogy Book 2) Read online

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  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE SPLITTING

  First edition. December 5, 2017.

  Copyright © 2017 Sarah K. L. Wilson.

  Written by Sarah K. L. Wilson.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The Matsumoto | Chapter One

  Behind the Scenes:

  Chapter One

  “Things are getting really bad over here!”

  The voice crept up in register as it reached the end of the sentence. A medical saw buzzed in the background and a loud banging and thumping sporadically drowned out everything else.

  “Put pressure on it, and I’ll get there as soon as I can!” That voice was baritone.

  My eyes flicked open. I hoped it wasn’t me they were talking about – or Roman.

  Roman?

  All at once, I remembered that our connection was lost. Now that the Empire had declared us mortal enemies, I’d probably never hear my bodyguard’s thoughts again. A horrible sick feeling filled my stomach.

  I still had my implant. They couldn’t remove it without rendering me catatonic. Otherwise, they would have stripped me of that little gem in a second.

  It wasn’t me they were talking about, thank God. It was a ruined man held down on a metal table. His leg was mostly severed and spurting blood. A wild-eyed woman held a cloth pad to the wound, applying pressure.

  “I can’t stop the bleeding. He needs you, right now!” she yelled.

  She grabbed for more cloth pads, but her movements were uncontrolled. They spilled out over the table and were quickly soaked crimson.

  “Keep pressure on it.” The baritone sounded distracted, but authoritative.

  I tried to turn my head to find him in the room, but my head wouldn’t move. My last clear memory was of being dragged away from Roman with the Emperor’s sentence still ringing in my ears. Where was I? I couldn’t quite remember.

  “He’s going to bleed out!”

  She wasn’t lying. The man looked half dead already, his thrashing had stopped and only one finger was still spasming. I tried to help, but my body was immobilized by something.

  “For the love of God, help him!” the woman said, her body rigid.

  “I can’t!” the baritone snapped, “I have four others in critical condition. I have to follow triage protocol.”

  Where was I? Why couldn’t I move? Was I dying, too? I tried to call out for help, but it came out as a faint moan.

  What time is it? I asked my implant.

  The time is 06:45 planetary time.

  The woman was shoving soaked pads into a garbage receptacle. She rubbed her drawn face with the back of her forearm and then locked her eyes on mine.

  “Another one’s waking up.”

  “Reinforcements,” the doctor muttered. “How far along is she?”

  “Just starting to wake up.”

  “Press her button.”

  She stripped a set of latex gloves off, pulled wisps of blonde hair off her forehead and then fiddled with something at my knee level. She left smears of blood behind her. She couldn’t have been proper medical personnel. They’re trained better than that.

  With the press of the button a female voice spoke with the calm of a recording. The message was eerie against the activity of the room.

  “Welcome to the planet of Baldric, Planet 70010563 of the Syver System. We are so pleased to have you, colonist. You may be experiencing temporary short term memory loss. This is normal, and you should not worry. Your memory will return as you wake up.”

  The bulkhead across from me crumpled inward with a boom. We must have been in the medical bay of a starship.

  “They’re at the doors!” the woman yelled – somewhat redundantly. “Where’s Captain Vincent?”

  “Busy. Hit all their buttons. We need them lively.”

  “You may also be experiencing temporary muscle stiffness. This is also normal. Try not to panic. You are safe and in a controlled medical environment. Our colonists are important to us.”

  “Oh my God, have you seen the monitor? They’ve got us surrounded!”

  “What about Sergeant Cross and the security team outside our door?”

  “Dead.”

  “So’s this one. Take him. I’m moving on.”

  “Forget them! We need to get out of here.”

  “I’m a doctor, Charlene.”

  “Your doctors are nearby and will soon aid you in your recovery from cryogenic sleep. Don’t worry, you are their top priority. Your muscle stiffness and fatigue will soon fade and you will begin to be able to move. Please remain calm and avoid stress or worry. You need time to transition slowly to your new home.”

  “How long until we can get them out of those medical cocoons?” Charlene asked.

  “Who knows. Some will be able to move sooner than others. You can’t rush the process. Damn.”

  “Another one?”

  The doctor didn’t bother answering.

  “As we have said, you are a valuable colonist. The planet Baldric is a challenging environment, but you will ease slowly into your new role here. You have been selected for the role of...” another voice, more harsh and bored than the first, cut into the recording “...Native Relations...” the voice cut back out and the canned script resumed. “Don’t worry, you will be fully briefed on your duties before you are asked to fulfill them. Now, let’s go over some basics.”

  Bypass recording and download essential information, I ordered my implant. I was sick of the smug voice already.

  Accessing system. Downloading...

  I had a hidden computer in my brain that no one knew about. It was convenient that it had access to all of my enemy’s computer systems, but not surprising. My enemy was the Empire where I once was considered royalty.

  I didn’t remember anything of my journey here – yet – but I did remember one thing. I didn’t want to be a Matsumoto anymore. I would no longer fight for their approval. From this moment on, I was an implacable enemy of the Empire of Blackwatch. They just didn’t know it yet.

  With a ear-splitting screech the bulkhead tore right across, a green fungus bubbled through the gash.

  “We can’t stay here! Look at the monito
r. There are thousands of them! They’ll tear us to pieces!” Charlene yelled.

  At least she worked while she panicked. She flew from one corpse - or almost corpse - to another, following prompts from their med patches.

  “Calm down. Don’t do anything rash! We have to wait for these other colonists to wake up. We need the reinforcements.”

  “Where’s Captain Vincent?”

  “He’s coming. Now, shut up.” The doctor sounded like he wouldn’t mind a hull breach if it would get rid of Charlene.

  My finger begin to twitch, finally responding to my wishes. Soon I’d be able to move again.

  Chapter Two

  Download complete, my implant chirped.

  Priority information?

  Arrival at Planet 70010563 occurred at 5:47, local planetary time. The ship is disabled and crashed at the current location. Current location is 90 km south of colony outpost. Crew survival percentage 95%. Current surviving crew is 35. Captain Vincent remains alive.

  The crashing outside the room grew louder. I struggled to free my hands. What would I do if I was still inside this pod when the door finally opened?

  “There. He’s stable. Put him on an e-stretcher.”

  “Why not in a pod?”

  “Who do you expect will be carrying a 1000 kilo pod?”

  You are a Native Relations Facilitator. Your role includes interfacing with local society...

  It looked like that might happen soon. Two more huge crashes left dents in the wall.

  ...gathering intelligence on Native weaponry and technology...

  A blast rocked the room, and I watched a hatch crumple in a scream of twisting metal. They had access to something deadly. It didn’t take much intelligence to see that.

  ...and facilitation of peaceful relations between the human colonists and the Native inhabitants.

  Nice. So I had already failed at my brand new job and I wasn’t even out of my cryopod.

  Interface with cryosleep pod and activate any stimulant injection available, I ordered.

  Stimulant injection this soon after reactivation is against protocol.

  Override protocols.

  Override successful.

  A needle injected something in my upper arm. My heart began to race.

  The crumpled door in my view burst open with a hellish scream. Humans in black marine skinsuits with insignia blazoned on their chests poured into the room, weapons at the ready.

  “Doc, we’ve got two more for you,” a marine said.

  “Charlene, run the triage unit over them and I’ll get to them as soon as I can,” the doctor said. “Where’s Captain Vincent?”

  “Right behind us.”

  Planetary environment? I queried.

  Planet 70010563 atmosphere is primarily an oxygen- nitrogen mix. The oxygen content is higher than Earth normal. Humans breathing Baldric atmosphere risk oxygen toxicity if exposed for prolonged periods. Plant life is edible, but contains heavy metals and lacks appropriate amino acids. Studies continue on the effects of ingesting large quantities. Colonists are advised to remain on e-rations until the studies are complete.

  So, priorities: Survive. Pack e-rats. Pack some sort of breathing filter or I’ll die a slow death of oxygen toxicity.

  For now, let’s start with survive. I surged forward, willing my body to move. With great difficulty, my muscles responded. I released the straps holding me to the pod, but I couldn’t find the catch to open the door. Where was a girl’s bodyguard when she needed him?

  Ian McIsaac has been assigned as your bodyguard going forward.

  I froze for a moment. I forgot Nigel had done that. It was needlessly cruel since he intended that I would die here – again! (this is getting old, by the way) – so why did I need a bodyguard? Or was he teaching poor Ian a lesson the way he’d tried to teach Roman Aldrin one? I suspected that Ian wouldn’t take it as well as Roman did. After Capricornia, he had every reason to hate me. Hopefully, they hadn’t given him an implant. That would complicate things.

  The door to my pod opened and a marine pulled me out by my skinsuit.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked, his voice obscured by a partial mask. A breathing apparatus, perhaps? All the marines had one, making them hard to distinguish.

  I didn’t answer. I was a prisoner, not a colonist, whatever fiction the chipper voice in that recording played at. I would only be going where I was allowed to go, and in this mayhem I had no idea what that might mean.

  “Keep an eye on her. The Captain’s ETA is two minutes,” another marine said. He had a set of raised, black stripes on his sleeve. It marked him as an enlisted officer.

  The first marine shifted his grip to my bicep, completely enclosing my tiny arm in his big hand. I didn’t object, choosing to get a look at my surroundings.

  We were in a large medical bay, lined with cryogenic pods, about sixty in total.

  A cryogenic facility, not an emergency one, I figured. Each pod along the row was lighted and inside were sleepy faces, some with eyes closed and some with them open to a small slit. I felt my own eyes trying to close, but I forced them open. Between my will and the stimulant, I managed to stay upright and awake, but the lethargy was still strong. The process must be lengthy, but they were rushing it with us.

  From the open, marine-lined door, the sounds of nettle guns and screams continued. Great. It was going to be another one of those planets.

  The original doctor worked on the marines who were brought in by their fellows. He had a washed-out look like he was more of a memory than a person, and he grimaced and frowned like he was experiencing internal conflict.He had neither the tools, nor the staff, that a proper emergency medical bay should have. Did they locate him here to guard the cryo-sleepers?

  I figured Charlene was the woman staring at the viewscreen beside the doctor. Everything about her spoke of surface and sparkle. People who make themselves look cheap, usually are cheap. I dismissed her internally.

  The marines inside the safety of the medical bay were filling rucksacks with emergency rations (or e-rats) and evenly dispersing the other gear. I noticed a contraption I felt sure was a water filter, along with basic tools, communication devices, firestarters, survival equipment and the other usual suspects in a long-term survival situation.

  My stomach flipped. I was not used to physical scarcity or having to survive in the wilds. Without Roman, I had no physical ability that could keep me alive if things got difficult. Thanks, Matsumotos. You bred me for a life of luxury and then threw me into the Amazon River. Beautifully done.

  I was wearing a skinsuit like the marines, except it was grey with a barcode stenciled in white paint on the front of it. At least skinsuits were practical. This one fitted well and moved easily. The durable fabric required little to keep it clean. Fittings worked into the fabric allowed for starship exo-gear hookups and loops for a techbelt or tool belt. The marines’ belts bore a variety of tools and weapons. Unfortunately I hadn’t been granted a similar arsenal.

  Everyone turned when a heavyset man entered in marine blacks. He stripped off the breathing mask, and donned a fleet cap with captain’s insignia on it. Captain Vincent.

  “Report,” he said.

  “Sergeant Spencer reporting,” a marine said, stripping off his mask to reveal a handsome, but tough face. “Major Reynolds is two minutes out. He says he has combed decks 1-20 looking for survivors and gathered up any who were found. He is currently engaged in a shooting battle to join up with us on the lower decks.”

  “Any cryo-sleepers awake?”

  “Just one,” he said, gesturing at me, “but we’ve started the Wake Protocol for all. We are currently packing supplies for the pris...colonists to carry with them.”

  “E-rats?”

  The sergeant nodded. “As many as we could find.”

  “Good.” The Captain looked at me for a long moment, barely containing the contempt in his eyes and then turned to the doctor.“How many patients need to be transported, Dr. Dani
els?”

  “Transported to where?”

  “The colony, of course.”

  The doctor looked up for the first time, his eyebrows climbing. “Ninety kilometers?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know. None of our casualties are walking. We’d need a stretcher squad. On top of that, at least half of those I’ve saved will never be able to make that journey. They can’t leave the ship’s medical support.”

  The captain frowned. He spun around and seized me by the front of my suit, just like the guard had.

  “Why did we crash? What was that thing that shot us down?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, with deliberate slowness, trying to keep him calm. “I’ve been in cryo-sleep.”

  He shook me, which wasn’t hard. I’ll be a petite woman when I’m fully grown and I’m only sixteen now. “Willowy” would be a generous way to describe my figure.

  “We all know who you are. You’re the only one on the ship anyone would want to kill. Who shot us down? Why did we crash here? Did they stir up the alien population? Tell me.”

  “I don’t know,” I repeated.The man must be close to a mental breakdown if he thought I could possibly answer these questions. I didn’t even remember being put in the cryopod. I was trembling in his grip, and I tried to take deep breaths. Fear was not the answer right now.

  “What was that thing that shot us down?” he asked again, shoving his face right in front of mine.

  “You tell me,” I said. “You’re the Captain, and you were there to see it.”

  I earned myself a full armed slap for stating the obvious.

  “Captain?” A voice said, curiosity and wariness in equal parts.

  The captain turned to the voice, and I risked a glance. Its owner was broad shouldered and huge. Judging by the textured insignia on his skinsuit, this must be the Major. His breathing apparatus hung loose from a loop on the skinsuit and his hard-lined face came from an Old-Earth South American strain.

  “Reynolds. Thank God. I was just trying to get some intelligence out of our prisoner.”

  “Colonist,” Reynolds corrected, his face and eyes unreadable.

  “Whatever,” the Captain said, shaking his head and then turning to the man just behind Reynolds. “Lieutenant Chavers, I’m glad to see you are ok.”