The Matsumoto (The Matsumoto Trilogy Book 3) Page 7

  Oh great. The whole posse was here. Now that I was getting to know Zeta adult-to-adult I was starting to think that maybe being raised without a mother hadn’t been all bad.

  Don’t forget, I can hear your thoughts sometimes. Insulting me is not good for our relationship.

  I gave her the formal half-bow of Blackwatch society. Maybe if I showed proper respect they would get to the point and I could go back to my frustrations and distress.

  You do no one any favors sulking in your room. You are a leader and you need to act like one.

  Is that what you want to talk about? I said respectfully, hoping it might prompt her to move on.

  In essence, yes, Fretzler said, seeming more focussed than she usually did. For her even speaking out was a rarity and I wondered why she chose to do so now.

  Think of it as a performance review, Yokiro suggested.

  One minute, you want to give me a performance review in my role of Baldric planetary warlord and shadow cookie jar?

  I’m sure that’s a funny joke with your generation, but comedy is not your strong suit, Zeta said. There wasn’t even a hint of humor in her words. You represent us out there in the world. It is in our best interest for you to be a strong leader. How else can you conquer the Matsumotos and free our souls?

  To be honest, I’m a touch uncertain on how that will work-

  I was cut off by Yokiro.

  We are upholding our end of the agreement. Our people work tirelessly to crew your ship. We demand that you take up your part of the bargain.

  Wasn’t my part of the bargain to overthrow Nigel Matsumoto and release your souls? I’m working on it. It takes time.

  Then stand up and make decisions instead of wavering. Stop worrying about petty childish jealousies, Zeta said, and even mentally her frustrations were apparent. Take Ch’ng’s offer. Refuse Roman’s demand to end your battles. It is absolutely important that you do not waver, but lead!

  Well, no mistaking what her priorities were. Matters of the heart? Forget them. Just like she forgot her lover and child.

  I didn’t forget, she said, I channelled everything I had into reaching my goals, and they are almost in sight. I will not let you fail.

  And there was the rub. She needed me to do what she could not. She was reaching past the grave to force me down the same path she took. And where did that path lead? To a shadow after-life? To forgetting anything that once made her human? Not for me.

  You made a bargain, Caradand reminded me.

  And I will keep it. But in my own way. I’m already more blood soaked than I ever wished to be.

  So you will embrace your abandoned pacifism? Dalinoro asked. He looked angry, but he always looked angry.

  Not yet, I said.

  He nodded. I wondered what he would have done if I had said yes. The shadows were not pacifists, whatever else they might be.

  In that case you should consider the tools at hand, Yokiro suggested.

  Pretty sure I’m using all the tools at hand already.

  You only use that marvelous implant of yours for the most basic of functions. You should see what other gems there might be hidden in there.

  I use all the functions they come with, and mine hasn’t been upgraded in a long time.

  Ah. But did you know about that Tactical Interface before you asked for it? Yokiro asked.

  It bothered me that they knew about that. Bothered me even more that he had seen potential where I had missed it. I’d been busy, though.

  Not that busy, Yokiro objected.

  He was starting to get irritating. How did the other Elders stand him? I noted a look of commiseration on Dalinoro’s face, and almost laughed. Dalinoro hated me. If he felt compassion for me over Yokiro, then the former scientist must really bother him. I wondered what it was like to live in the mind of someone you hated.

  Not all it’s cracked up to be, Zeta replied. Was that a joke?

  I’ll see if I can find any more goodies, I agreed.

  Excellent, Yokiro agreed. We are an invaluable resource to you. We can fight your physical battles, but unfortunately we cannot transform you instantly into a real leader. That will take time and patience. We will try, but you will need to work hard with the tight timeline we have.

  This was worse than any performance review I could have imagined. Action point: A group of judgmental elders will check your work for quality and lecture you from inside your own thoughts. No company had ever gone quite that far.

  For now, stop sulking about the boy and get to work. As frustrating as you are, you are our best chance of success, and we will do whatever we need to in the quest to achieve our goal. Including bucking you up and making you worth the trouble it took to bring you into this world, Zeta said. As always, she was just full of touching mother and daughter moments.

  As you wish, I agreed. Best to keep them happy. I was dead certain that they could make my life hell. It would be like a living migraine if they became angry with me. I was starting to think I got the very short end of the stick in this deal.

  Zeta will keep us informed of your progress, and remind you of your duty to us, Javazuri said.

  It was the first time I had ever heard him speak. With his words the others faded away, becoming shadows in truth, and leaving only Zeta and I alone in the room.

  Will the prisoners become shadows now that we’ve marooned them on Blackwatch? I asked her.

  Unlikely. The Javierians already communicated through the subconscious. The Splitting rocketed them into it – and the animals of Baldric, too- but the patch was already there.

  Did you bring the animals with you?

  What would be the point of that? she sniffed. Only people are needed to overthrow the Matsumotos.

  There are humans that you’ve absorbed, though, so I guess it wasn’t just mind-talkers...

  Humans are susceptible to mental shifts, too. You should know that by now, Zeta said in an indulgent tone like imparting this information was a special gift from her to me. I decided to push it one step further.

  Why were you absorbed? You have an implant like mine. Couldn’t you have done what you want me to do?

  Zeta frowned at me as if she could burn a hole through me with her expression, but eventually she spoke.

  My implant failed. I tried to suck them in against their wills, but it failed in the process and I was absorbed.

  It explained a lot.

  I am not one to give up easily, though. I rose to their leadership.

  She held her chin high, pride radiating from her face. At least she was pleased by her place in the universe. She gave me a long look, and then, as if she was struggling over whether or not to do it, she spoke.

  Life is transient. It fades before you even begin. People are more precious than that, but they, too, fade. Decide what you want.

  Cryptic. And vaguely parental. I wondered if this was her warm and fuzzy side.

  And remember, if you fail us, you will pay for all eternity.

  Or maybe not.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next few days were excruciating. I didn’t see Roman the entire time. It was a large ship and easy to avoid someone. Driscoll claimed Roman was working down in Engineering, but when I went looking for him he was nowhere to be found. The shadows wouldn’t tell me his location, because Zeta said it was “inconsequential” and “a distraction.” I thought about using the ship sensors to ferret him out, but decided against it. It seemed too immature, besides, it could be my ace up the sleeve in case he didn’t appear before we reached Nightshade.

  The members of Driscoll’s Own were delighted to be headed towards The Hand’s base of operations. Driscoll regaled them with tales of various Hand exploits. They might have been true. Whether they were or not, Kitsano and the marines ate it up like tri-colored ice pears. Ch’ng was happy to listen in, although by the look in his hooded eyes he held the same reservations I did.

  Yamamoto had taken a turn for the worse and required constant supervision now.
He was going to need proper medical care as soon as possible.

  Driscoll and I were still figuring each other out, but as the days wore on we settled into a working relationship. In fact, he was deferring to me in ship matters now that I had a secret weapon.

  The shadows had been correct when they said my implant had more hidden Easter eggs. One of them was a complete ship suite, including navigation programs, piloting programs, tactical programs and engineering programs. I was, in essence, a massive back up to the ship’s own computers, and I still marvelled at how my hands flicked through the holotanks as if I had years of experience. It was a grossly unfair advantage, but with Roman incommunicado, and not much else in my life, I threw myself into the new skillset with gusto.

  I’d picked up a little goodie that would solve one of Roman’s and my problems, too. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to tell him about it yet. He did not send me any thoughts over the channel, although I had caught two of his unconscious thoughts. They were both “Ashlyn” which had not endeared him to me.

  If he ever bothered to show up again, I’d be able to show him a neat trick, though. I’d found a fighting mirror program. Basically, if it was activated and slaved to his movements, the two of us would fight in tandem at his guidance, or vice versa. I thought it was amazing, and as always, I wondered what these things were even doing in my mind. After all, none of this was standard Matsumoto type stuff. We had a ton of processing power and memory in these tiny chips, and they fed somehow off of our own mental reserves, but this was topping anything I had ever estimated.

  I strode onto the bridge on the third day without Roman, trying desperately to retain my usual energy. His absence was draining my spirit. Driscoll was sorting through reports on the holotank with Ch’ng at his elbow.

  “Ah, Vera, just the person we were thinking of,” Driscoll said with a smile.

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “We are making excellent time, and I think we’ll arrive early, which means we need to make a decision.”

  “Whether to use Ch’ng’s contacts,” I said, surmising their drift.

  “I’ll need to get word to them as soon as we can contact Nightshade communications traffic,” Ch’ng said.

  “You can do that?” I asked.

  “Sure. I have pipelines for communications set up on Nightshade. I can hit the right transmitter with a filament laser and no one will detect it.”

  “And then?” I asked.

  “And then my contacts will....smooth the way. Reroute unnecessary bureaucracy. In essence, we will just vanish as far as authorities are concerned.”

  “Please, please tell me that this is not connected to human trafficking,” I said.

  Ch’ng and Driscoll shared a look and I blanched.

  “No, Vera,” Driscoll said, seeing my face. “It’s not that. But it is connected to Ch’ng’s...other dealings. Criminal dealings.”

  “As long as we aren’t talking slavery or murder,” I hedged.

  “We aren’t,” Ch’ng said, “although it won’t matter to the Imperial authorities if we get caught. I’ll lose my head this time around.”

  “So it’s risky. We could get caught. But without it we’re going to get caught anyways.”

  “Don’t kid yourself, Vera,” Driscoll said quietly. “All options that end with us discovered end with us dead. That’s been my life since before you were born, and it won’t change until you sit on the throne. We all know that.”

  “I know it, too,” I said, quietly. “But I won’t support human trafficking.”

  “It’s nothing to do with that, I swear,” Ch’ng said. “It’s supply chain, mostly.” He meant smuggling. “Some aggressive restructuring.” By that I assumed he meant murdering people who got in his way.

  “As your vassal, I must strongly recommend that our best bet is to utilize this approach,” Driscoll said.

  I wished I could ask Roman. Technically I could, but it pained me to try to act like everything was normal. I didn’t like the idea of supporting smuggling, and the ‘aggressive restructuring’ sounded even worse. When this was over would I be able to get the stink of crime out of my soul?

  “Ok. We’ll use Ch’ng’s contacts,” I agreed.

  Good Girl, Zeta said.

  I liked her approval even less than her judgment.

  We spent a few hours planning our approach to the planet. We needed to signal Ch’ng’s orbital before we were discovered by authorities, so a lot would depend on how the orbital looked when we arrived. Picking a best-chance plane of entry now would make things that much more likely to succeed when the time finally came.

  After we were done, Ch’ng hurried off to the perpetual card game that was burning up everyone’s extra time on the mess deck.

  “Give him time,” Driscoll said.

  My program was refining data in the holotank, and my hands were following the program’s prompts, busily whirling and swiping away, but my eyes were free. I glanced over at him, but his own eyes were glued to his tasks further down the tank.

  “Who do you mean?” I asked. I knew that he meant Roman.

  “Whatever he did, he’ll come around.”

  I snorted.

  “Chalk it up to irreconcilable differences,” I said.

  “Only death can make those,” Driscoll chided, and he looked up into my eyes, half-pleading. Suddenly we were talking about him instead of Roman.

  “Yes,” I agreed, but those words were for him. If he wanted to reconcile, then as weird as our relationship was, I was willing.

  It was funny to me, that even after all those years he and Zeta had not sought any sort of conversation with each other. And neither had sought one with me. I supposed that my parents were simply not like other people. They were both so focussed on their similar all-consuming causes that there was no time to waste on familial affection. Perhaps that was not entirely true. Perhaps Driscoll - I couldn’t hardly say “my father”, even to myself - was simply giving me time.

  “Death, battle. These things bring up loyalties and emotions. They intensify them. It makes things that are small seem big, and loves that are casual seem lifelong.”

  “He fell for me in the midst of death and battle,” I said, refusing to find solace in his words.

  He snorted. “Well that would be the only way, wouldn’t it? You always have conflict and blood swirling at your feet.”

  I was aghast. “I don’t choose this! It just keeps getting thrust on me!”

  “Don’t be naïve,” he laughed. “You are your mother’s daughter...and mine. Passivity does not come naturally. Maybe you didn’t seek violence, but you didn’t let things pass you by, did you? No, it’s that active engagement with life, combined with a sliver of conscience that fires your engines and drives you straight into trouble.”

  I felt surprise mixed with a dose of regret. He could be right that this had become my life. If anyone were to love me they would have to love me in the middle of the swirling chaos that had become my life. If I became Empress none of that would change. It bore thinking on.

  “Thanks,” I said, tossing him a half-smile which was about as cheerful as I could get right now.

  “The least I could do,” he said with hooded eyes, and we both went back to our tasks, trying to ignore the awkwardness between us at having an emotional conversation.

  Chapter Twelve

  We were six hours out from planetary communications with Nightshade when I finally found Roman. He was lurking in environmental, up to his elbows in a used water filter he was scrubbing. He looked up at me for a moment and then turned back to his work, rotating the fins on one of the mechanisms and carefully cleaning each one with a rag.

  I took it as a good sign that he hadn’t vanished before I arrived. He must have been tracking my movements to avoid me so thoroughly until now. I leaned against the wall and watched him work. He was in his element, completely absorbed in the task, and something about the algae smell of the filter seemed to fit with him. His sleev
es were rolled up and the round muscle near his elbow bulged and twitched with his movements. I wasn’t even sure I had that muscle.

  I kept playing out different ways to say what I needed to, but I just couldn’t seem to voice them. They sounded too dramatic, or too flippant, or had too many histrionics.

  Eventually I said, “Zeta’s people can do that.”

  He grunted, “They have no vested interest in our drinking water. Never trust someone who doesn’t have a vested interest.”

  “You’re my guardian,” I said awkwardly.

  He sighed. “I am that.”

  “That means I have a vested interest in you.”

  He looked up, raised a single eyebrow and then went back to work. Round One went to Roman. I tried a different angle.

  “So, we’ll hit Nightshade communications perimeter in six hours, and from there it should be another twenty four to orbit.”

  “Good to know.” He said it more aggressively than needed, like he wanted me to shut up.

  “I’ll be heading down to the planet immediately. We all will be, really. Driscoll and his posse. Ch’ng.”

  “Mmmmhmmm.”

  It felt weird to only be talking without talking in our heads at the same time. It was like he was giving me the mental silent treatment. I felt further away from him than I had felt when we were physically parted.

  “Your choice,” he said, meeting my eyes for a moment and then throwing the rag to the floor and shoving the cleaned filter under a sprayer to finish the job. Defiance and anger shone out of his eyes. Wow. I hadn’t realized that he was so angry.

  “Ok, well, I need to know if you’ll be coming,” I said, trying to be strong in the face of so much anger. I was trying not to break down and cry right in front of him. Wouldn’t that be humiliating? I couldn’t bear to let him see how much his words stung.

  “You just said that I’m your guardian,” he said.

  “You are that,” I agreed, my words taught with the frustration I couldn’t express.