Dragon Pearl

by Yoon Ha Lee

  Be nice to her, I reminded myself. She could probably smell my annoyance, just as I could smell hers. It was hard to lie to a fellow fox. I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, then stepped out of the bathroom.

  Bora wrinkled her nose. “Took you long enough to clean yourself up.”

  “We’re not all as talented as you are,” I said dryly.

  Bora scoffed. “You’re just jealous you can’t make your hair presentable without magicking it up.”

  Pointedly, I turned my back on her. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I asked. I headed to the laundry room to drop off my soiled clothes. If only I’d been born half a month earlier, I would be the older one and wouldn’t have to put up with her attitude.

  She followed me. “Too bad Jun messed things up for the rest of us.”

  “There has to be more to the story,” I shot back. “The investigator probably left out details to see if he could catch us in a lie.”

  She ignored my response, as usual. “And you’re just as bad as Jun! What were you thinking, attacking a guest?”

  “I thought he was going for his gun! You would have done the same thing.”

  Ordinarily Bora would have needled me further about my rashness, but she still had my brother on her mind. “All Jun’s big talk about rising through the ranks and finding allies who would help him make Jinju a better place, and what does he do? He runs off and disgraces the whole family.”

  Bora and I had never gotten along, but she and Jun had often spent time together. For the first time, I wondered if she missed him as much as I did, despite all the gibes.

  “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” I said.

  It had to be. Jun and I used to sneak outside late at night and stare up into the sky with its jewel-spill of stars and moons. As we lay there, he would talk about how much he wanted to serve on a Space Forces battle cruiser and visit every one of the Thousand Worlds. Also, unlike me, he was obedient—he always played by the rules.

  “The investigator seems convinced that Jun went after the Dragon Pearl,” I went on, thinking aloud. “But Jun is no renegade. He’d make a terrible smuggler or pirate.”

  The corners of Bora’s mouth turned up in a suddenly sly expression. “I’ll make you a bet.”

  Footsteps approached. By mutual silent agreement, we slipped into the next room and hid behind the door, waiting for them to pass us by.

  After they had gone, Bora whispered, “If Jun comes back within a year, I’ll do all your chores for the next six months.”

  Yeah, like that would ever happen. She’d weasel her way out of the agreement. Nevertheless, I couldn’t resist a bet, especially since I knew—knew—my brother was being falsely accused. The satisfaction of proving her wrong would be enough for me.

  “And if he doesn’t?” I asked, also whispering.

  “You’ll do mine.”

  I held my hand out. She laid hers atop it, palm to palm. “Done,” I said.

  She tossed her head. “Get ready to clean the toilet often, Min.” Then she glided out of the room, not bothering to shut the door behind her.

  Ha. Cleaning the toilet, while gross, wasn’t hard. Dealing with the hydroponics ecofilters, on the other hand, was a different matter. If they failed, we’d all starve. Or worse, we’d have to eat nasty outdated ration bars until a real ecotechnician could fix the system. The job always fell to me because I was the only one in the family who could coax the filters to behave. Mom said I’d picked up the knack from my technician father. When I was very small, he had encouraged me to work alongside him, and I’d enjoyed it. I was proud of my skill with machines, but on the occasions I caught Mom watching me use Dad’s tools, her expression was sad.

  Even if I won Bora’s bet, I’d still end up having to do all the maintenance work. I certainly couldn’t rely on her to keep the ecofilters running. She’d probably had that in mind when she proposed the bet.

  From down the hall, a snatch of conversation drifted to me, distracting me from my thoughts.

  “. . . send Min to Jaebi Village.” It was my oldest auntie, sounding very firm. “. . . still have some friends there. The authorities can’t arrest her if they can’t find her, and Jaebi is so remote, nobody goes there if they can help it.”

  No way was I going to let myself be shipped off to some family friends I’d never heard of! I shuddered just thinking about it. But it was clear I couldn’t stay home after what I’d done, either.

  That, plus Bora’s sniping about Jun, made up my mind: I would go after my brother. Someone had to track him down, and I was the best person for the job. I’d avoid being exiled to somewhere horrible and isolated. Best of all, once I disappeared, my family could blame me for assaulting the investigator and using fox magic, and they could escape punishment. I was sure my wily aunties would figure out a way to convince the local authorities to keep the family’s true identity a secret.

  I slipped over to the closet where we kids stored our personal items. As second oldest, I had the second-highest shelf to myself. It contained all my meager belongings: faded clothes, folded to my mom’s painstaking standards; my breathing masks, along with some extra filters; an outdated data-slate that I had to share whenever someone asked; and a patched-up backpack, which Auntie Areum had been about to throw out until I begged for it.

  And one more thing: a brush-and-ink portrait of Mom, Dad, Jun, and me as a baby, done on pale silk, which was marred only by a blotch in the lower left corner. I’d tried to remove the stain, but I couldn’t do much without risking damage to the work. If it weren’t for this portrait, which Jun had left with me, I wouldn’t remember Dad’s face at all.

  Jun and I had inherited Dad’s quizzical eyes and his narrow chin. I had Mom’s smile, which I seldom saw on her anymore. In the portrait, she was smiling faintly, as though trying not to laugh at something one of us had just said.

  All four of us were wearing festival clothes. I could imagine the bright colors and embroidery, the latter cunningly hinted at by stylized dabs of ink. I hadn’t owned any garments that fine since my father’s death.

  I rolled up the silk and tucked it into a scroll case made of battered green plastic. The portrait deserved better. I used to imagine purchasing a replacement case carved from imported mist-ivory or sable-wood, but our money had to be saved for more important things. The plastic case did the job.

  Then I retrieved the backpack and stuffed my possessions into it. While I could outfit myself with the help of shape-shifting magic, maintaining the illusion required effort and a good memory for details. I’d save that for times when I had no other choice. The masks and filters went into a pouch on the front, while I nestled the scroll case among some folded pants.

  I shouldered the backpack and crept toward the storage room. This would be the tricky part. The adults were still talking loudly enough for me to hear them, though it was hard to discern the words from here. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t hear me rummaging through the cabinet. I’d have to be quiet.

  “Min?” said a small voice from behind me.

  I’d been so focused on the adults, I hadn’t heard Manshik pad around the corner with a basket full of laundry. I decided to go on the offensive before he asked what I was doing with my backpack. I gestured for him to follow me into a side room. “Weren’t you supposed to do that earlier this morning?” I demanded in a hushed voice.

  That may or may not have been true. I knew Manshik, though, and he was young enough to get flustered easily.

  No such luck today. “You’re not going somewhere, are you?” he asked, frowning.

  “Of course not,” I lied. “Since you had the basket, I decided to use my backpack to take my dirty clothes to the laundry room.”

  He held the basket out helpfully. Heaven save me from cooperative younger cousins. I performed my best smile and emptied some of my clothes into the basket, deliberately rumpling them in the process.

  “Thanks,” I said, keeping the sarcasm out of my voice wi
th an effort. “I have to check the air filters, okay? If anyone asks, I’m going to be busy for a while.”

  Manshik pulled a face. “Your mom seems mad—”

  “She can come get me when she’s ready to yell at me. Just go ahead and deal with the laundry.” As he trotted off, I eyed my mostly emptied backpack and sighed.

  At least no one interrupted me when I went to the cabinet. I carefully slid open the false bottom and was amazed by the size of the cache inside. We could have been living a little less frugally all these years!

  But right then, I was thankful for my aunties’ thriftiness. As much as I hated to steal from them, I needed some jades. Fox magic wasn’t any good for conjuring money—fake currency and other valuables disappeared soon after they left our hands. And I had to be prepared for a long trip.

  Then I hesitated. If my family ended up having to bribe authorities in order to stay out of trouble, who knew how many chits they would need. I ended up only taking a couple of fistfuls.

  My backpack felt heavier and heavier with each tiptoe I took toward the back door. I’d never even flown before, and here I was preparing to journey to the stars. What other choice did I have? I had no intention of going to jail or being shuttled off to the boonies. More important, Jun needed me.

  Once I stepped outside, I didn’t look back.

  Like everyone over the age of ten, I knew how to drive a hover-scooter. Technically you couldn’t get a license until you were sixteen, but out where we lived, no one cared about such things. In the city of Hongok, where I was headed, I couldn’t count on the patrols being lax. I took a moment to shift into a slightly older version of myself. The extra two inches of height was nice, if dizzying, even though it meant my clothes no longer fit as well.

  That wasn’t going to be enough of a change to disguise me, though, if Mom decided to report me lost. I concentrated and summoned my magic to make small adjustments, not large ones: a flatter nose, glossier hair, smoother skin. I wanted to look prosperous enough to fit in with the other city dwellers, but not so wealthy that I’d attract thieves. The magic determined that I should be wearing emerald rings on one hand, sparkling brightly even in Jinju’s ruddy light.

  There was also additional weight at my hip: Charm had supplied me with a pouch. I opened it up and found a slightly shimmering but official-looking license corresponding to my new guise. Fox magic was handy that way, if sometimes unpredictable—once you envisioned what you needed, it covered all the details. I hadn’t practiced Charm enough to have complete control over it yet, and I was dismayed to see that my alias was Kim Bora, the name of my most annoying cousin. The rest of the ID looked good, though, so I decided not to mess with it.

  Once I reached the spaceport in Hongok, I hoped to book passage on a ship before any of the authorities caught up with me. After that, I’d have to get to a hub large enough that I could Charm information out of a sufficiently high-ranking Space Forces officer. Jun had never let any hints drop about the location of his battle cruiser, for security reasons. At least I knew the name of the ship he’d been assigned to: the Pale Lightning. Somehow I had to reach it so I could find out what had happened to him. All without being arrested and sent back home.

  The enormity of the task before me was overwhelming. But I refused to allow myself to get discouraged. I’d just have to take it one step at a time.

  First, get to the spaceport. The city was several hours away, and I should have worn better protective gear for the ride. I had on my mask, which always smelled faintly metallic no matter how fresh its filters were, and a helmet. The crisp air chilled me as I sped along the road. I wished I’d been able to grab a jacket on the way out of the house.

  It was still early, and Jinju’s reddish sun glared through the morning mist, tinting the low clouds the colors of fire. I passed domes of varying sizes, which protected their inhabitants from the dust and the fickle weather. Some glistened like jewels in the blossoming light, while others had cracks patched with ugly but functional globs of sealant. When I was younger, I’d helped a neighbor with that kind of repair job, because I’d earned a reputation for being handy. Of course, I’d almost fallen off the roof, but I’d done good work. The last time I’d checked it, the repair was holding up beautifully. With any luck, I wouldn’t have to do anything like that where I was going.

  For a moment I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to breathe clean, sweet air without having to wear a mask every time I went outside. In the holos, fully terraformed worlds were lush and verdant, with trees rustling in the wind and flowers that flourished without having to be coddled in the protected gardens of wealthy people. If the Dragon Pearl truly had resurfaced, it could make that dream a reality.

  I only passed a few other travelers. Most dome dwellers didn’t visit the city often—there were too many things to deal with at home. But as I drew closer to Hongok, other scooters and larger vehicles zoomed past me. Just the sight of the dust they kicked up made me want to cough, even though my mask filter was doing its job.

  In the outskirts of the city, the domes were larger, like overambitious mushroom caps. The largest buildings weren’t domes at all, but spires spearing up into the sky. They dated back to Jinju’s early days, before the terraforming project had faltered. The oldest families dwelled in the spires, even though not all of them had held on to their wealth over the years.

  The city’s name, Hongok, meant ruby. Maybe it had looked like a gem once—in the dreams of its founders, if nowhere else. I’d seen views of it from orbit on the news services: a glitter-mass of silver and gold rising from the darker ruddy plateau on which the city had been built, the needle-flash of starships arcing to and from the spaceport. Down here, though, I could see that the spires had discolored patches, and there were cracks and potholes in the streets. The scooter hovered a few centimeters above the surface, but it had a tendency to wobble when passing over the larger fissures. If Jinju had been terraformed properly, we’d be prosperous enough to afford better construction and maintenance.

  I wished I could skirt Hongok’s boundaries to approach the spaceport, but the city was so sprawling I was sure I’d get lost. I would just have to go straight through and pretend I had legitimate business.

  I slowed down as the West Gate loomed before me. It was flanked by two statues of four-legged, lion-maned haetae, or guardian spirits. Wish me luck, I thought in their direction. I knew security would be tight due to Thousand Worlds regulations over spaceport access. I could see why people from other areas had to protect themselves against raiders and pirates from the Jeweled Worlds, but in Jinju, which had so little of value, the additional precautions were just a nuisance. I’d have to rely on Charm to deal with the guards if they got suspicious.

  I spotted a pair of red-uniformed officers at the West Gate. They were busy chatting with a woman in the flashy robes I associated with traders. After they finished dealing with her, they looked me over.

  “You there!” called one of the guards, a squat man with a mustache that drooped like a plant that hadn’t been watered for a week.

  I braked too suddenly and lurched forward, catching myself against the scooter’s handlebars. I pulled off my helmet and cast my eyes down the way I’d seen Bora do when she was talking her way out of trouble. “Sir?” I asked.

  “Identification,” the officer said in a bored voice. “Come forward slowly, and no sudden moves.”

  “Here you go,” I said, drawing the license out from its pouch. I admired it surreptitiously. Even the holographic seal in the center, depicting Jinju’s pearl-and-carp symbol, looked convincing.

  “Kim Bora,” the guard read from the ID.

  I grimaced at the reminder of the bet I’d made with her, and what was at stake: Jun.

  The guard caught my expression and scowled at me. “You have some problem, miss?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I just remembered that I forgot to put some food back in the fridge. The entire kitchen is going to reek of rancid gimchi by
the time I get back.” I wrinkled my nose, which wasn’t an act. I could smell it just thinking about it. Was I never going to escape the stuff?

  “Oh, leave her alone,” the guard’s cohort said. I liked her immediately. “Remember the last time you had us over and there was a bowl covered with mold in the middle of your—?”

  “You’re fine,” the first officer muttered to me. “Go on through.”

  I smiled brightly at him and accelerated. As I passed, I heard the second guard saying, “You need to get a new robot to replace the one you broke. . . .”

  Funny, I’d never thought of guards as going home and having chores like the rest of us. Or having broken-down robots, too, for that matter.

  Would life be any easier off-world? I was looking forward to getting away from Jinju for the first time, though I wished I were leaving under better circumstances. Had my family realized by now that I had disappeared? I regretted making Mom worry, especially because Jun had gone missing, too. I probably should have left a note, but I didn’t really want her to know my plans—she might have tried to track me down. Anyway, it was too late now.

  After I’d left the West Gate behind, I stopped next to a directory. It resembled a thick rectangular column, each face with a screen you could use to search for shops or addresses. A pair of giggling kids, not much older than six or seven, were entertaining themselves by getting one side to project holographic images of various landmarks and making them virtually collide. At the moment, a temple had the city’s oldest spire protruding through its bell.

  I did my best to ignore the kids while I asked the directory the fastest route to the spaceport. Even from here I could spot the high spire and the gleaming flash of starships flitting in and out, but Hongok’s streets were a tangled mess, and I didn’t want to waste time going in circles. A map popped up with the route highlighted. It would take me through the Market District. I’d always loved its bright colors and mixture of smells and gossip, although Mom thought poorly of most merchants. (Then again, Mom disapproved of practically everything.) In any case, I’d have to take care not to attract the attention of the guards there. They had a reputation for demanding bribes from out-of-towners, and I couldn’t afford to waste my precious supply of jades before I got off-planet.