Program preparing to initialize phase alpha.
Which program? I queried.
Operation Overthrow.
Nice. Succinct.
“Have you ever shown your little terrorist fish tank to any other Matsumotos?” I asked, trying to put the weight on ‘terrorist’ to take it away from my real question. Which was not to say that I wasn’t furious right now at dear old dad for lying to me about being a terrorist. I looked around me to further highlight the question.
“Of course not!” Choshi said. “The only Matsumoto that knew about The Hand was Neal Matsumoto, our founder. If anyone else knew it could be our ruin – including you. If you were asked by the sitting Emperor you couldn’t lie or he would know.”
“He is rather good at reading people,” I agreed.
Choshi laughed, “Well yes, but you would have broken rule three, to obey him as your own conscience, and his implant would have informed him that you broke one of the rules, like it always does.”
My jaw dropped. Our implants informed his implant and he knew? I guess that explained why no Matsumoto had ever been able to escape the consequences or hide their crimes from the Emperor. It had never occurred to me that this would be the case, but why not? My implant had shown a ridiculous level of flexibility. I closed my mouth with a snap and drew in a deep breath.
Driscoll’s eyes were locked on to me and narrowed.
“You didn’t know?” he asked.
“No,” I gasped.
“None of you know?!” he thundered, rising from his seat and lunging a step forward before drawing himself up.
“I ...don’t ...think...so,” I said slowly, racking my brain for any hint that I might have heard of it.
I didn’t know, Zeta said. Hiro caught me completely unawares, and his punishment was severe.
“Well that explains a lot,” Genda said, taking a sip from his glass.
“She didn’t know,” Driscoll breathed, resting his head into his hands. He looked so downcast that I took a step forward to comfort him before I caught myself, instead settling on a concerned gaze when he finally looked up. He shook his head hard, like he was trying to dispel his thoughts.
“So if I break any of the three rules, Nigel knows almost instantly?” I said, still feeling queasy at the thought.
“Of course,” Choshi said. “It was the only effective way to enforce the rules.”
I smiled wryly, “Well at least he’s had an earful since he dropped me on Baldric.”
Genda and Driscoll laughed, and Driscoll said, “I don’t think shadows count. I’ve noticed that you are more reticent with living humans.”
I take offense to the use of the word ‘living,’ Zeta said.
“I have a responsibility to the people of Blackwatch, whether they realize that or not. It’s not something I take lightly, and it’s not something that I can walk away from,” I said.
“Would you if you could?” Genda asked.
“Of course,” I said, and his eyebrows rose. “Who wants the weight of an Empire on their shoulders? But no Matsumoto can walk away. I tried, but there is no escape from what I was born. The only path now is to forge that into something useful – good, even, if that is possible.”
Genda nodded and Driscoll’s face looked drawn. I was starting to think that this had something to do with Zeta.
He was a fool for me, but more of a fool after, was her helpful comment.
“Why are you here?” Genda asked, and both other men fixed their gaze on me. They waited in silence and I let it draw out a beat before answering.
“To seek allies.”
It felt almost like the answers were in my subconscious and being fed up to my conscious mind.
“To what end?” Genda asked, and it sounded like it was by rote.
“In order to seize the Empire from my cousin, Nigel Matsumoto.”
“Why would you take his Empire from him?” he asked, and Choshi’s mouth had formed a tiny “o” and his eyes grew wider with each question.
“He squanders my people and I wish to shepherd them, he despoils and I wish to defend.” Where were these answers coming from? They boiled out of my mouth before my conscious brain kicked in.
“How far will you take this battle?” Genda asked and I saw that now Driscoll’s eyes were glowing, too.
“To the hilt of my sword, to the last of my breaths.”
“You coached her,” Genda said, turning on Driscoll in anger.
“I swear, brother, I did not,” Driscoll said, palms up and spread out as Genda’s eyes widened.
He turned back to me and said, “Do you so swear that you will be the Hand of the Matsumotos and will bring the revenge of your line upon your cousin, renewing our Empire with your blood or his?”
I felt an icy chill, but I said what I knew I must.
“I so swear.”
Genda, Driscoll and Choshi exchanged looks that were equal parts wonder and horror and then they dropped to their knees and Genda and Choshi spoke the vows of fealty. My own surprise was writ large on my face and when they were done and I had said my words Genda rose and clasped my hand.
Astonishment still clouded everything else on his face.
“How did you know the words of the exchange?”
“They were in me,” I said, equally uncertain.
“Neal Matsumoto wrote them himself,” Choshi added from behind him, “and every member of the Hand is required to memorize them in preparation for the Day. And now the Day is here.”
Had the answers been in the program from the QR Code?
Phase Alpha initialized. First barrier broken: Gain the support of the Hand. Second Barrier messages being sent. Stand by.
My implant had a mind of its own. How appropriate that everyone did these days except for me.
“Well, as First Fist of the Hand I give you our resources and support,” Genda said and my own eyebrows crept up when I realized he was their leader. He smirked as he saw my reaction. “Somewhere-”
He was cut off by a cleared throat from an adjoining hatch. It was Dr. Hoffstad.
“If I can borrow the young lady for a moment?” he asked.
At the same time I finally heard the voice I’d been waiting for.
Vera? Roman said, panic lacing the connection with flickers of red.
Chapter Twenty-One
I’m here. I’m coming, I sent frenetically, gesturing to Dr. Hoffstad to lead the way.
He started through the hatch and I was so close on his heels that he stumbled slightly and tossed me a wry expression.
“We won’t get there if you stand on my feet.”
Chastened, I settled back behind him. Our pace, quick as it was, seemed ponderous and I could feel Roman’s panic and terror in our link. The maze of bubbles was much bigger than I thought it was. Three narrow staircases and fifteen bubbles later, we were finally in what was clearly a medical ward, positioned so far below the original layer of bubbles that the ocean beyond was black except for the occasional flicker of a passing fish.
Hoffstad led me to a curtained-off area and I rushed through and stopped inches from Roman’s bed. He was awake, and propped up in bed. Terror and anger warred within him as he studied his stump of a leg with burning intensity. My own emotions echoed his, my pain for him increasing with his own pain and my anger increasing with his.
“Roman!” I said, reaching out to cup his face in my hands. “I was worried.”
He nodded and I could tell he was fighting off tears.
I’m so sorry, I said into the link. As if words would be enough.
They aren’t.
My eyes widened before I remembered how our thoughts leaked at times of intensity. Those ones were not likely meant for me. I colored at the thought.
I thought you were going to die, I said.
It’s ok, Vera, he said. It was worth it to get you out safely. And then, more faintly, were the words that he was trying not to say: She never should have delayed for those shadows. If she
hadn’t then I wouldn’t have lost my leg. My leg. Oh my god....
I was weeping openly, running a hand under my eyes and nose to stem the flow.
“He’ll be alright,” Dr. Hoffstad said from behind me, oblivious to the raging emotions between us. “I’ve pumped him full of nano-robots. They’ll repair the damage over the next few hours and I’ve fit a prosthetic, as you can see.”
The sleekly curved metal apparatus was already fit in place, looking alien jutting out from what used to be a living leg. I felt...horror...that this was my fault and Roman’s rage answered my horror with equal intensity. I tried to speak in the channel, but a color flash of rage cut me off, and I was left listening mutely as Hoffstad continued.
“In a few moments the pain killers will kick in fully and he’ll be out. While he’s unconscious the nano-robots will also run connections so he can use the prosthetic with very little physiotherapy. It is a ‘smart’ device and it will read his input and adapt to him within hours. That’s the good news. The bad news is twofold. As you know, opting for what in today’s medicine is a fast and dirty solution leaves him without recourse later. He will not be able to regenerate the leg. There will also be psychological complications to the loss of a limb that few people today are required to endure. It will take time.”
“Can we have a moment alone?” I asked, not even looking away from Roman.
“Of course,” Hoffstad said, and I heard him leave.
Roman turned a controlled expression up to me, but behind it bitterness seethed. I think I would have felt the same were our positions reversed.
“I can’t ever make it up to you, but I’ll be here with you as you recover,” I said.
“Can you really promise that?” he asked, and pain – both physical and mental- infused his words. “You have an empire to seize.”
I half-smiled ruefully. “You are more important. I am so sorry, Roman.”
“Worth it,” he grunted and a stab of love and loyalty towards me pierced the pain and anger so that they swirled together in his emotions and overpowered my own, dragging me into his raging whirlpool of feeling. The worst part about our link was that I couldn’t tell who his rage was directed at. Was it the situation...or me?
I leaned down and kissed him gently on the lips, bittersweet pain and love mingling in my tears and our kiss.
He kissed me back, bitterness and passion in equal measures and then they faded slowly and as I pulled back from our kiss I saw his eyelids droop and his consciousness slip away. All that remained was what was echoing in me.
I lingered by him for a few moments, holding his hand and smoothing his hair back, and then I stormed through the curtain, desperate to unleash some of the rage still seething within.
The moment I passed out of the curtain our installation rocked and I stumbled, clutching the curtain for support. Yells and echoing footsteps were all around us, and then Driscoll ran through the hatch towards me.
“What’s happening?” I asked, and then took an involuntary step backwards as Kitsano and Ch’ng stepped into the bubble behind him.
“Our friends have joined us,” he said, gesturing to a grinning Kitsano and a stony faced Ch’ng.
“You seem to have made quite the entrance,” I said, lifting an eyebrow as the installation continued to sway slightly.
“It wasn’t us,” Kitsano said, her eyes glued to Driscoll’s back, “but we are very happy to be back in your company.”
Based on the way she was looking at Patrick she meant ‘your’ in its singular form. Who would have thought?
Genda strode into the room, carrying an old fashioned print book under one arm.
“Something is amiss,” he said. “We are getting reports that the battle in the sky continues and now our enemies are threatening to send missiles towards the planet.”
My mouth fell open. No one in the civilized universe did that. Bombarding a planet always had catastrophic civilian and ecological consequences. There were one hundred and thirty five known sovereign human states. Most consisted of a single planet, but some consisted of many, like the Blackwatch Empire. One hundred and seventeen of us had signed the Caundor Convention agreeing not to bombard planetary populations. It was shocking that the People’s Freehold were threatening to violate that.
“Aren’t they already attacking us?” Ch’ng asked, spreading his arms to indicate the vibrations that were still continuing in the installation.
“No, these are merely fragments of the space battle colliding with Nightshade. Most of those fragments are shot down by planetary defense before they break atmosphere, but some still get by.
“Are you saying this is only...space shrapnel?” Ch’ng asked, his face paling.
“Exactly,” Genda said, his tone grave. “Our options are limited. We must leave this installation for a start. Nightshade is a torpid planet and she experiences almost no tectonic action. This place was not designed for these stresses.”
I felt a sudden wave of nausea at the realization of how much water was above us. I pushed through the curtains to Roman’s bed and readied an e-stretcher beside it. Once again he’d need to be moved in an unconscious state. I felt a wave of fear and anger at the proposition. It was Roman’s anger reverberating in me. No wonder he was furious at his situation. Who wouldn’t be? I was reflecting it outward as if that could somehow keep it from consuming me. I was very afraid that if he was conscious I would feel his blame through our link.
As I moved Roman to the stretcher Dr. Hoffstad joined me, hooking him up to the stretcher and programming its e-med panel to the right specifications as Genda spoke quickly, gripping me by one arm.
“We always assumed that there would be time to pass everything on, but now our hands are forced. I pulled together a few things that you might find useful, but I am at a loss. How does a young girl take over an Empire, even with our backing?”
He shook his head and handed me the print book and a handful of tiny items. They turned out to be more teeth. I put them in one of the pockets of the skinsuit and tucked the book into Roman’s stretcher.
“Make your way to our chapter on New Greenland. Driscoll knows the way. You need their help as well,” he said as the ground beneath us rocked again.
“I will,” I said, sincerely, looking for the first time into his eyes and seeing the man who had spent years – maybe his whole life – waiting to serve in this task.
He smiled slightly, “I was a Marine Colonel before I retired, and I am loyal to Blackwatch, but I have always known that those at the head need the most watching and the most insistent reminders of who they are. Be sure you don’t forget that, Vera Matsumoto.”
I nodded.
“We have transport to Derivat,” Driscoll said, “Choshi has arranged both that and false identities. They are only allowing refugees to leave. No private ships. No criminals. No military.”
Even with very good false identities it was going to be hard to pass for anything other than what I was – a Matsumoto.
“Sounds like a problem,” I said guardedly.
He shrugged and muttered, “Cross that bridge and all that.”
There didn’t seem to be an alternative, so I set Roman’s stretcher into transport mode and followed him through the maze of bubbles. This time we were a somber crowd, focussed on moving quickly and keeping to our feet as the ground shook. At one point a hatch slammed behind us immediately after we went through it.
“She’s breaking up,” Genda said, and even his military carefulness sounded melancholy at the thought.
“All things pass,” Driscoll muttered, but I chose to remain silent. I had too much left of value to risk flippant comments.
We found a lift that took us up to the main vestibule, which must have been how they brought Roman down in his stretcher. Everyone looked uneasy as we entered.
“Where are all the others?” I asked Genda.
“Heading topside, too,” he said tightly. “We passed the word.”
“Bit of a m
aze down there,” Ch’ng muttered, and I had to agree, although I kept my mouth shut. The thought of that slamming hatch had me worried. There had been no warning that it was going to close before it did.
We made it to the top of the lift and into the stone vestibule and again, the hatch behind me slammed shut, this time with a shriek. I looked back and saw a single hand, severed and lying in a pool of blood.
“Genda,” Driscoll said white-faced.
I glanced around and seeing the old man missing, I swung back, intent to rescue him.
“There’s no way to save him!” Driscoll called.
“That’s what you said last time,” I argued.
“The doors won’t open,” he objected as I set to pulling on the handle. This felt far too horribly like deja vu to me.
I was still pulling against the barrier when strong arms clamped around my biceps, picked me up and carried me away. After a few steps Driscoll released one of my arms, but was still shoving me forward with the other hand.
“Roman...” I gasped.
“...is being pushed by Kitsano. I swear, girl, your penchant for the heroic is going to get us all killed.”
“Genda...”
“...was a good man, and a better friend, and is likely dead,” he said harshly, flinging me into the hover craft so roughly that I tumbled to the floor and had to drag myself up in time to dodge the e-stretcher Kitsano shoved in front of her.
Choshi, Shiga and Ebisawa were already inside and the hovercraft sprang from her docking the moment Ch’ng’s feet hit her deck.
“Head to the capitol,” Driscoll shouted to Shiga.
Behind us, a torrent of water surged up from the mouth of the installation and poured over the dock, tumbling down the cliff side. I looked down and saw thousand of bubbles surging up from the depths in white foam.
“There she goes,” Driscoll said with a grimace.
“Everything we’d saved. Everything we’d collected,” Choshi said, angrily, “Everything we needed.”
“Not everything,” Driscoll said, glancing at me.
The Matsumoto (The Matsumoto Trilogy Book 3) Page 13
