The Splitting (The Matsumoto Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  Chavers saluted. “The marines are showing me the ropes. I never expected to fight planetside, sir.”

  “None of us did,” Captain Vincent said, his mouth twisting with the sour words. “Please assist the other...colonists in their waking. We need to leave this wreck of a hull. Any objections, Reynolds?”

  “None, Captain Vincent. The sooner we move the better.”

  “Most of them are still sleeping,” Lieutenant Chavers said.

  “Give them a shot of stim,” Captain Vincent said.

  “Not recommended,” Dr. Daniels said from the far side of the room.

  I surreptitiously rubbed my aching cheek. There would be a bruise and I’d be lucky if it didn’t swell, but at least Captain Vincent had forgotten me in the business of sorting out his ruined ship. He was insane to think that I would have any information for him, but some Blackwatch citizens persist in seeing the Matsumotos as demi-gods. Maybe that was what was going on here. Or maybe we did something to him or his family in the past. After getting to know Roman, I would never again discount that possibility.

  I stood up with great care, hoping not to incite anyone to stomp me back down.

  “Forget recommendations,” Captain Vincent said. He must be very rattled. Fleet officers were joked about for their need to follow regulations by the letter.

  “You’ll lose half of them if you do,” Daniels said, as he sewed a man’s arm back together with an e-suture machine. The technology did most of the work, but it still required a skilled operator to do it well. His fingers moved rapidly as he spoke, and his tone had a far-away quality.

  “How much time do we have before we need to get out of here, Major Reynolds?” Captain Vincent asked.

  Reynolds spoke quietly into a headpiece, waited a moment and then answered.

  “We’ve routed the main force for now, but we think this was an opportunistic raid. If we give them time, they will amass greater numbers and then we’ll be trapped in the bottom decks of the ship. We need to leave as soon as we can, and head straight for the colony. If we keep moving they won’t have time to call reinforcements.”

  “My engineer is dead and the ship isn’t responding to Bridge control. I can’t launch her back into space. I’m afraid we’re stuck on the planet.”

  “If you’d seen her from the outside you’d already know that, sir.” Reynolds shifted on his feet. “I’d be happier if we were already gone. One hour might be too long. My men are ready to cover a running retreat.”

  “Use the stims,” Captain Vincent ordered, rubbing his chin. “Start putting any who can live without ship support onto e-stretchers, Daniels.”

  Daniels muttered something that might have been acknowledgement, but I thought it probably wasn’t. He knew, the same as I did, that the Captain would abandon anyone too injured to come with us. I tried to breathe quietly. Something told me that I wouldn’t want any more attention from Captain Vincent. He already had it out for me, and I had yet to do something stupid.

  The stims were administered and the pods opened. The marine beside me shoved my arms through a rucksack more than half as heavy as me, tightening the straps at my waist and chest and then roughly strapped the breathing apparatus around my face, cinched the straps, and yanked my skinsuit’s hood over my head.

  “Thank you,” I said through the filter.

  “Get your butt to the front of the line.”

  “Line?”

  He pointed to an actual line painted in red just inside the door. I shrugged and stood on it. Gee. Who would have thought I’d get a front row seat to the marathon of death. Exactly how far could a group engage in a running battle with aliens? On their home turf? With wounded and huge supply packs to burden us? My guess was: not far. My legs, already weak from cryosleep, were close to buckling under the weight of the pack. Well, at least I’d get to see Baldric. Ecotourism at its finest.

  I could hear other cryo-sleepers being fitted with equipment and lined up behind me. I turned to look, but a barked order of “eyes forward” was clearly directed at me. I went ahead and obeyed...for now. I felt like something was off...like I was waiting for someone.

  Roman. I miss you, I thought. Imagine how perfect you would have been in this environment. I felt a strange – well, almost an echo I guess – after I thought that. I’d never felt that in my implant before. Maybe it didn’t like me speaking to people it couldn’t connect to, even if I wasn’t trying to connect at the time.

  I didn’t try to stop the waves of sadness that washed over me at the mental image of him. If I was going to die, I wanted to die missing Roman. When you only have one friend in the universe you don’t want to forget him.

  “All formed up and ready to go, Captain,” Lieutenant Chavers reported.

  “Vera,” someone behind me hissed.

  I risked a look. It was Ian McIsaac. The pieces clicked into place. He was the one I’d been subconsciously waiting for. He was his usual self, looking at home and comfortable in a military-style skinsuit like he did this every day.

  “I’ve got your back,” he said, but the glint in his eye gave it a different meaning.

  Yep. Called that right. He wanted vengeance. There’s nothing like disappointed hopes to sour a man. Or his father’s murder, I supposed. Or being sentenced to a prison planet for no reason...

  Well, his reasons were valid enough, which didn’t make his hatred any less bitter of a taste on my tongue.

  “Take them to the front. Put one marine ahead to guide them, but I want them to shield the rest of our ranks. We don’t want to lose anyone important, and it might get rough out there,” Captain Vincent said to Major Reynolds.

  “Might?” the Major muttered under his breath, but I don’t think the Captain heard him. “Just wait till you see how bad it’s already been.

  Chapter Three

  Great. “Human Shield” wasn’t what I’d have bet on if asked to guess how I’d die. My knees shook like willow saplings in a breeze.

  A marine with ‘CONRAD’ emblazoned on his skinsuit studied us from his place at the head of the column. His expression turned to disbelief when he saw me.

  “What did they have you slated for on this planet, colonist?” he asked.

  “Native Relations,” I said, keeping my face straight.

  We shared a look.

  “Well, then I guess it’s time to do your job,” he said wryly.

  “Do we get weapons?” asked Ian, from behind me. I could hear the squeak of his shoes on the slick floor as he shuffled in place.

  Conrad’s laugh was as old as the ages.

  “Move ‘em out, Corporal,” said Major Reynolds, from behind us.

  I missed having a bodyguard. I wish they’d packed my implant full of the violent goodness they must fill theirs with. Of course, I’d never asked what I might have available. Maybe I should.

  Is there any sort of military or engagement software available? I queried my implant.

  Tactical Interface Loading ...

  Interesting. I wondered what this little goody contained. It was yet another thing in my head that I knew absolutely nothing about. Roman would probably have something snide to say about that.

  Corporal Conrad led us in a jog through the medical bay door into a wide ship’s corridor. The floor angled slightly, likely due to crashing on uneven terrain and marines lined the halls in ready positions with weapons drawn. Apparently, we would be their vanguard. Nice. What an honor. The tang of blood swirled in my nose and splashes of it pooled under the marine’s feet and stained the bulkheads. A shiver rippled through me.

  “What did they attack you guys with?” Ian asked, his voice sounding strangled.

  “This is mostly from the crash. Some from projectiles they hurled at us when we routed them.”

  Native Relations must be a hazard pay post.

  The hatch neared, and the four-marine team guarding it greeted Conrad. They bristled with weapons and adrenaline.

  “Secure, Corporal. Proceed,” a husky woma
n with Sergeant stripes said.

  My Tactical Interface software booted, throwing up a transparent image over my vision. At least my implant was pulling its weight. In the top right corner a tiny map appeared, showing our location and that of the colony, with some landscape drawn out in elevation lines if I focused on it. A green inverted caret hovered over Corporal Conrad’s head. I assumed that meant he was friendly – or at least not an overt enemy.

  On the left of my vision, a scrolling line showed marine communications. Somehow my system was linked with theirs, so I could see their sub-vocal communications. Flashy features notwithstanding, I didn’t have the expertise to follow it and run at the same time.

  I chose to run. Conrad’s brisk jog had turned to a run as we exited the crash. I followed in his shadow. I risked a look behind me at the ship.

  We emerged from what had been the lower half of the splintered ship. She was sheered across in a ragged line. The upper half wasn’t visible from my vantage point, but only something horrible could have severed it. The top of the lower half was charred and some flames still licked at flammable scraps. It had skidded across the floor of Baldric, digging a deep channel into dense foliage. Piles of uprooted trees, boulders, and other debris flanked the rut and formed a bank under the forward edge of the ship.

  My Tactical Interface threw up a red outline around the ship and the text, “Colony Ship ‘El Dorado’. Status: Destroyed, Threat level:0”

  I stumbled over my feet. Ian didn’t bother to bite back his curse at my carelessness. If that was my implant’s little joke, then I was sorry to miss Roman’s acerbic humor – it was downright sunny in comparison.

  I wanted to curse, myself, but then I saw ... them.

  The foliage on Baldric differed from what I was used to in nitrogen-rich environments. The chemical makeup of the soil and atmosphere produced color variations that were rare in planets that could support human life. There was little, if any, green.

  Around us, dense trees and long grasses grew like an ancient oak forest, but the leaves were dark purple and the grasses were striped in black and white. Smooth white tree trunks, with large spreading branches almost enclosed the ground beneath. The white sun was filtered into a somewhat purple glow by the leaves, giving the landscape an ethereal resonance like a fairytale fantasy.

  The colors preoccupied my mind so that at first all I knew was that something was wrong. Conrad ran close to a bright-yellow fungus that towered four meters from the ground. I almost ran into it, swerving at the last moment. My mind replayed the details, as if to scream at me that I should have noticed something very important.

  At the fungus’ base, splayed in a rictus of pain, was a dead man in a Fleet uniform, brandishing a nettlegun in one hand. My mind replayed the image again, as I ran, harassing me with the details, until I finally realized that the man hadn’t slumped in death at the base of the fungi – the fungi had grown through him. Two huge strands of it shot up right through his eyes as if they had been trapped inside him and were reaching for the light.

  How long did it take for a fungus to grow four meters tall? Had one really grown through that poor man? He couldn’t possibly be from our ship. Nothing living could grow that quickly.

  I fought to control my thoughts. Fear warred with horror, either one a ruthless master. The image of the dead man, violated by an alien fungus etched itself so firmly in my mind that it blocked out everything else. I looked ahead, and I saw him, at my feet, and there he was. I couldn’t close my eyes, but I knew that if I did I would see the grisly details perfectly on my red lids.

  Conrad’s pace was grueling, but measured. I had a worried intuition that he ran like this for PT every day. I threw myself into it, hoping that exhaustion would eat up the energy I directed towards my imagination. Fear lent me energy. A chill began in my belly, reaching up to freeze me to the crown of my head. What had been done to that poor man back there?

  There was another one over there. I saw it through the undergrowth. Surely not... No, there was one over to my left, too! How many? I could pick them out now that I knew what to look for. Fourteen in my line of sight and who knew how many more in this dense forest? I wanted to throw up.

  Roman! I screamed in my own head, Roman, where are you? I need you so much!

  The strange resonance occurred again. Wishful thinking, certainly. I hoped he could still hear me even if he couldn’t answer.

  If you can hear me, Roman. I love you.

  It was silly to project thoughts to someone who would never receive them. Silly to ache with worry for him when I had my own shadows closing in. Nigel said he was going to the marines, but what if he had lied about that, too? Not a shred of confidence remained in me where the Matsumoto Dynasty was concerned.

  I ran on, gasping for breath. Running hadn’t been a daily activity for me, even before I’d been put in a simulated sleep. Twice, Ian trod on the back of my foot. I didn’t think the second time was deliberate. I just wasn’t keeping very good time.

  We stumbled our way through tangled trees and vines in a path that was angled towards the colony site on my mini map. I saw two more fungus towers close to where I was running. They both grew out of hideous corpses. After that, I stopped looking at the totems of the dead.

  Behind me, the other colonists formed an arrow, and behind them were the surviving marines and ship’s crew, like a comet’s tail winding through the forest. I could see them clearly on the map of my Tactical Interface. The trees here were so tall they would have dwarfed multi-story dwellings on a more civilized world. It made judging our location by our surroundings nearly impossible. Without the Interface, I would already be lost.

  My legs were growing stiff, and my lungs burned from exertion. Was there anyone left to run from? Maybe the Major’s men had scared them all off. I hadn’t seen any sign of an enemy, except for the corpses.

  I heard a scream from behind me and to the left. I froze, and turned toward it, in time to see another colonist fall. She screamed, writhing on the ground, choking and retching. Her face turned to the sky and out of her open mouth a yellow stalk shot out, faster than a speeding grav-car, and blossomed into three curling nodules four meters from the ground.

  I turned to the side and retched. After so long in cryosleep nothing came up, but I couldn’t stop retching.

  I wouldn’t have been able to move if Ian hadn’t slammed into me, yelling, “Move it, or you’ll wish you were her!”

  I stumbled, but kept my feet under me, fueled now by terror and rising panic. I ran so quickly that I found my place in line again behind Corporal Conrad. The way he ran screamed efficiency and capability. I tried to focus on that. I needed something to distract me. Efficiency. Capability.

  Ian probably saved my life back there. It was probably the last thing he would want to do if he thought about it.

  There were no other screams at first, but a moment later I heard the distinctive ziiiiz, ziiiiz sound of nettlegun fire and then the screams began again. I couldn’t tell where the firing was coming from or who was screaming, but Corporal Conrad didn’t turn around or slack his pace, and this time I followed his lead, running with my eyes ahead.

  Did the enemy have nettleguns? They were an advanced technology most favored by Blackwatch Military. Most other military groups preferred flechette guns. Where would a bunch of backwater natives have gotten nettleguns? And who had attacked the woman I saw die? Was it a spontaneously growing plant?

  Conrad stopped so suddenly that I almost collided with him. My feet skidded on the soft leaves, and I reached out, grabbing Ian to maintain my balance.

  “Get off me!” Ian said, swatting at my hands as I dropped the hold I had on him. It had been enough to stop me in time. What caused the sudden stop?

  The ground below us dropped from tangled forest to cliff face without warning. I gasped at the deep drop below, skittering backwards to gain distance from it. Beside me, someone ran up from behind and didn’t stop in time. I felt the wind whistle beside me as h
e toppled over the edge, and the sound of his scream dwindled until it became nothing. My chest constricted and I gasped.

  “What the...” Ian said from behind me.

  Corporal Conrad fixed his gaze on Ian. “Run back to the Major for orders. Tell him-”

  An inky black arm reached up over the lip of the cliff and wrapped itself around his waist. He was cut off midsentence and dragged over the edge, his scream bubbled up and then it abruptly ceased.

  My eyes widened, but I didn’t freeze up.

  “Run!” I yelled, heading left along the cliff face.

  My map interface flashed yellow to tell me it was the wrong way, but I didn’t care. Left got me away from Conrad ... and whatever had pulled him over the cliff.

  Running along the edge of the cliff wasn’t easy. The edge was not uniform, and it crumbled and gave way if I stepped too close to the edge. Worse, who knew what waited just below, hoping to pull us over the side? We skidded and slid along the tree line, grasping saplings and striped grasses for purchase as we skittered to safety, or at least to something safer than that.

  I don’t know how long I ran, or who followed me, but eventually I thought to query my implant.

  Time?

  9:00 local planetary time

  Eventually the cliff gave way to a steep, rocky hillside, and I slid and tumbled my way down to the ground below. In the ravine was a creek, and in the center of the creek was a bare rock island. It looked like a good place to wait for further instructions, and I didn’t see any natives there – not that I knew what they looked like. So far they had been elusive. I gained the center of the rock and spun around to see how close the rest were.

  Behind me were twenty other “colonists” and four armed marines. They crowded on the rock with me. We waited for the rest. Minutes slipped by as everyone gasped and gathered their breath. A pack was opened. Water was found and passed around.

  “I wonder if we can drink this creek water?” someone said.