by K. Gorman
If the Ozark didn’t cooperate, if even one of them decided to hand them over…
Saints, this was a terrible idea.
She groaned. “Soo, if I ever try to pull something like this again, please slap me.”
Soo-jin, standing stiff and stoic beside her, gave an apoplectic grunt. “I told you so.”
“Why the ten hells did you let me do this?”
She shrugged.
“It could work, you know—and you’re right. This is an essential waypoint. They need their people.” Her eyes slanted to the side, catching Karin’s gaze. “I don’t think Christops will betray you.”
“No, it’ll be Charise.” She pitched her voice low, turning so the name wouldn’t be heard by anyone else. Her hands went to her hips, and she glanced in the direction Soo faced, eyeing the door. “Sol. Maybe we should have prayed.”
“There’s still time. They’re not here yet.”
“You think gods care if we’re near a shrine?”
Soo-jin uncrossed her arms, rolling her shoulders in a movement that was almost another shrug, but turned into a stretch. “Depends on which gods, I guess. I’m sure I wouldn’t know. Ask me about engine parts. And about netfiction with bionic, space-faring dolphins.”
A few seconds went by. Karin, eyebrows scrunched together, unglued her stunned jaw. “Bionic, space-faring dolphins?”
“Yes.”
A commotion started in the hall.
Soo-jin re-crossed her arms, returning to the stiff, stoic pose from earlier as she put the closest door in her narrow-eyed regard. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
Karin, too, fixed her gaze to the door.
This’ll work. Come on, Hopper, don’t be stupid.
But, from his point of view, wouldn’t stupidity lie in not trying to get her?
She swallowed hard. Around the room, people from the Ozark shifted positions. Marsa, by a table on the far wall, swayed as if to take a step, but then thought better of it. Two others, Cedar and Elliot, took a few steps closer to the door. Only Ronnie stayed put, leaning against the wall on the inside of the door with a seemingly-casual air, her gaze fixed on the hall outside.
A second later, as the sounds of moving people shuffled in the hallway, Hopper’s clear, sharp voice cut through the background.
“This place is an antiquated dump. We’re too far. We should move closer, be more efficient. Why can’t we do it in the hallway by the lock?”
Soo-jin lifted an eyebrow toward the door. “Well, at least he’s focused on the task.”
“And not on the betraying, you mean?”
“Precisely.”
The first few Lost came into the room, funneled into the Mess like lethargic, half-spooked sheep.
She took an unconscious step to move forward, but the Ozark crew stepped into play, leading them toward the tables. Ropes and tape lay around the room, along with slings and bandages from Med, straps from cargo, and several bedsheets they’d twisted into makeshift restraints.
Hopper walked in. His head jerked up with a scowl as he caught sight of her, then frowned down at the tables as he caught sight of the supplies they’d laid out, lip curling back.
“It’s necessary,” she called out before he could say anything. “The Shadows fight.”
He processed this with a grimace frozen on his face, watching as Marsa, who looked like the kind of hardened-but-kind older mother who’d volunteer at inner planet soup kitchens, tied one Lost down with practical, efficient motions.
“This better be fucking worth it,” he grumbled.
He stepped into the room as more of his crew—and more Lost—entered, giving them a distracted scowl.
Karin, too, turned to eye the rest. “Who else did you bring?”
He grunted. “No more than you allowed. It’s just me, the pilot, and one of my men.”
He tipped his head up as a large, beefy man shouldered his way through the door, dressed in Caishen’s blue and red security colors.
Karin narrowed her eyes. Though his hair had grown rough and unkempt, and a heavy smattering of stubble changed the look of his face, he felt familiar.
Soo-jin leaned in closer. “Isn’t that the guy who tried to break in last time?”
Ah. Yes. Now she recognized him. The last time they’d docked at Caishen, he had come back after the initial security crew and tried to get past the Nemina’s locked door. Fortunately, the ex-military vessel still kept its security protocols—most of which had explicit anti-Alliance intentions, considering Fallon’s current stance.
She eyed him for a few more seconds, then stepped forward. They only had so much time. She wouldn’t waste it by wondering.
“Which one’s the pilot?”
Hopper pointed with a nod. “Jim, there. With the bedsheets.”
As his gaze returned to her, his expression had softened, the wariness replaced by a reluctant curiosity. “Can you really do this? I mean, after all I’ve heard—”
“Yes,” she said. “I can.”
She turned away and rolled her shoulders, cutting off the rest of the explanation. “Let’s get started.”
Chapter 19
Her arms tingled. Hours had passed in a frenzied blur. Once the second and third pilots had recovered, the arrival of new Lost comingled with the departure of others. She’d long ago given up cleanliness in exchange for efficiency, and smears of light slicked her arms, marking her skin like glowing cracks from another universe. More flecked the air, shivering motes that pulsed and faded in the same way as midsummer fireflies.
She flexed her fingers and blinked hard. A dryness had come to her mind, along with a sense of pressure pushing in on all sides. By the system clock on the wall, she’d been on task for five hours now, and it was taking more effort to step from person to person and work her magic.
Hah. Magic.
Sol. I never thought I’d be doing this.
Hopper followed behind her, watching her work. She caught him eyeing the light on her arms every so often and, more than once, he’d followed some of the excess as it languished into the air. He helped out with some of the Shadows when they came out, but left most of them to Soo-jin, who worked on Karin’s other side.
She hadn’t stopped, either. And she hadn’t said anything. Not a single word in five hours.
That alone was enough to gauge her anxiety.
Hopper’s men replaced themselves every shift, and Karin had conceded to having a fourth along to help with loading and unloading—it had become too slow with only the one to guide on and off ship. If they wanted to make their four-day deadline, they had to move fast.
She hardly noticed when they changed anymore. The Alliance might be a diverse and multi-ethnic place, but the guards at Caishen station looked to be made in some kind of beefy, square-headed, white-skinned factory.
Her shoulders ached as she bent over the next one, and a tingle of pain shot through the upward curve of her back at the repetitive angle, but she ignored it. Her hands went to the sides of his head. She gritted her teeth. The skin of her hands heated, and light flashed between them.
Black flowed up in a silent rush, only to be slashed by Soo-jin’s blade.
She straightened and turned away as the man slumped in the chair, taking a moment to roll out the kinks in her back and shoulders and to stifle a yawn. He’d marked the last of her current group. She could take a quick break while the crew of the Ozark and the two Caishen guards exchanged this group for the next.
“You sure you don’t want to go back? Get some rest? Food?” she said to Hopper.
He grunted. “I’ve had water. I’ll have more. I’m not leaving until you’re finished.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
It took almost ten minutes for the former Lost to be carried out. By that time, others had tied down half of the next group. Looking at the Ozark’s crew, they all could use a rest. With only four hover-stretchers, they’d resorted to the compact aluminum ones stocked on Caishen—but tho
se required two people, and, even with their modified supports, it was slow going.
Nick intercepted her on her way back from the kitchen. Giving a quick glance to Hopper, and seemingly frowning down at the Lost they were lifting out of the room, he dipped his head close to her ear with a gesture. “Your boy Marc sent a message through the relay.”
She froze. “Is he okay?”
“Says he’s fine. Had a small tiff with a couple of fighters, but they managed. They’re on schedule.”
Her stomach dropped. Fighters. That had been one of her worries. Against a fighter, the Nemina was chicken meat, even with its gun. “No damage?”
“No. They got away. Didn’t say how.”
Her mind shut around the edges, whirling. Sick worry rolled through her guts like old, churning drudge. He’d said they’d deal. They had.
But how?
Maybe Cookie had done something. Or maybe Marc had another gun hidden up his ass. She hadn’t known about the first one until he’d made to use it—and she practically lived in the Nemina’s OS.
She’d definitely have to get the story out of him.
“Is there anything else?” she asked.
“No. Just thought you’d want to know, is all. Our message went through, too, but with the delay...”
“It'll be another few hours.” She nodded. “I know.”
“Yeah.” He gave a quick scan of the room, his gaze lingering on the Lost then locking on Hopper’s stiff, cross-armed form. “He giving you any trouble?”
She shook her head.
“Good. I hope it continues that way. You gonna rest anytime?”
She flashed the last half of the energy pack in her hand. “Not if I can help it.”
He hesitated, then clapped a hand on her shoulder.
“Okay. You take care of yourself. Don’t kill yourself healing them.” Once again, his gaze lifted to Hopper. “Especially with people who don’t appear appreciative of what you’re doing.”
A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I bet they’ll be appreciative when they wake up and find out what’s happened. Besides—” she swallowed hard, “—it’s the right thing to do.”
“Yes,” he said, switching his gaze back once more to the rest of the room. “I suppose it is.”
“Yep. I’m going to have awesome karma in my next life.”
Stifling another yawn, she tipped the rest of the energy pack into her mouth, swallowed it down, and squared her shoulders to the closest Lost.
Back to work.
*
Sunlight blasted across her face, turning the inside of her eyelids bright red. She squinted hard and winced. As she sat up, bits of coarse, stick-like grass brushed against her hand. Rough ground, mixed with pieces of rock that dug into her butt and thighs like truant toys left behind by a toddler. She wobbled as the earth tilted around her, pressing her palm hard into the dirt for stability.
What the…
It didn’t take her long to recognize the ruins. Craning her neck to the side to put her eyes in the shade, she turned her gaze up them with narrowed eyes. Inside the loose circle of stones, the hard-packed, yellow-tinted sparsity of the grass, along with the dryness of the ground, made it winter, but the sun still burned hot above her.
By the heat she could feel in her skin, she had been sleeping here a long time.
She rolled over and staggered to her feet, putting a hand against one of the large, ancient stones, then stopped as a wave of dizziness moved through her.
For a second, everything seemed to shift and move. Earth and sky slid together. Even the stones, solid as they felt beneath her hand, thrashed against one another—turning, twisting, segmenting into each other like pieces of a puzzle.
Then it stopped.
She shivered and lifted her head.
The field remained much as it had before the shift. Stubbly grass and stunted, wind-blown bushes in shades of brown with only a little dark, drought-hungered green down the slope. At the bottom, the mix of evergreens and deciduous hemmed in the field, more browns mixing with dark greens.
But, farther from the edge, visible from her vantage point up the slope, a shock of rust-colored branches burst into the cavity. A sickened pine, branches stripped of leaves, either dead or dying.
Once she saw one, she saw more. They crept up through the canopy like sores.
The forest is sick, she thought.
But there was something more, wasn’t there? Something that lurked just beyond the end of her tongue. She frowned, following it, walking around the edge of the stone with her hand trailing over its rough, familiar side.
When she stepped outside the circle, the dream ended.
Chapter 20
She woke with a start. Her bed had relocated again, this time against the wall of the Mess, and a new person—not Soo-jin—was shaking her awake. She blinked as Ronnie’s face came into focus. The room swayed around them, and a couple leftover motes of her power sparkled in the air. She hadn’t noticed them before she’d fallen asleep.
To be fair, there wasn’t much she had noticed. Her mind felt pulled, her skull like it had sat on the inside of a jet engine. Parts of it throbbed as she propped herself onto her elbows, unable to prevent the hiss that escaped her lips.
“Sorry,” Ronnie said. “I know you’re tired, but…” she drifted off, directing her gaze to the side.
More Lost shuffled through the door. When she glanced around, she saw even more already tied to the chairs, waiting.
She frowned. “Is this a double load?”
“Er—yes. Sorry. With you asleep, we thought…”
“No, no, that’s great.” She shook her head to clear it. Stifling a yawn, she moved to get up. “The faster we do this, the better.”
“Wait.” Ronnie’s hand went to her shoulder, preventing her from rising. “There’s something you need to know.”
For the first time, Karin noticed the strain on the woman’s face. She’d originally thought it a natural, normal kind of strain, given the situation—but then remembered Ronnie’s face when Hopper and his people had first come on board.
She hadn’t been scared, then. And the uneasy stiffness to her spine, plus the way her eyes drifted away to focus more on their surroundings than Karin—as if she were expecting something to happen—didn’t speak of fear now.
Anxiety, maybe. And a nervous kind of anticipation.
Karin’s stomach tightened. “What is it?”
“We think something’s up. Nick and I.” She hesitated, still not looking at her. “We’ve been helping move people in. There’s been more coming while you slept. We think he’s going to try something.”
A slow, acidic trail of anxiety worked its way through her gut and, for a second, the room blurred. Closing her eyes, she took a few quick, shallow breaths. She found it hard to think. Hopper had been there the entire time she’d worked, right up until she’d pulled out her mattress and settled down—sixteen hours, with only short breaks here and there. Well into the night cycle. She didn’t have to look to know that her eyes were beyond bloodshot now. A kind of raw, scratchy dryness had worked into them from the edges, making it hard to keep them open for very long. When she opened them again, every light in the Mess bled into her vision like halos. She squinted to read the numbers on the clock.
An hour’s sleep. Probably less. She hadn’t kept track of the time when she’d pulled the blanket over her head.
She cleared her throat. “Thanks for letting me know.”
But, now that she knew, she wasn’t sure what she could do about it. As she rose, her arms and legs shook with her. Ronnie helped her up, but Karin slid from her grip after a few steps, limping to the nearest table.
Across the room, Hopper glanced over when he saw her move. He began to thread his way back through the tables to her.
In the end, it happened very quickly.
A strangled cry made her head jerk up. Across the room, one of Hopper’s security crew—he had three now—caught
Soo-jin in a shoulder lock. Her eyes focused on the stunner at her neck, locking on the weapon.
He’s not supposed to have that.
By the time she recognized it, Hopper had drawn his blaster.
“Enough of this. Time to go.”
*
Caishen looked much as it had two weeks ago. Born of practicality, its strict top-to-bottom design had received little in regards to aesthetic appeal, and what it had received had worn out its style long ago. A smell tinged the station’s air as Hopper moved them toward the top floors, where station security made its home, and Karin felt her head tip and sway. She found herself stumbling on the smooth floor, and she had to blink hard to keep her eyes open.
Fortunately, Soo-jin picked up her slack.
“So, what now?” she asked, pinning Hopper’s with a casual stare. “You got anything planned before you send us off to the Alliance?”
Perhaps the fifth time she had voiced the question, and this time didn’t seem to get any different a response from him. He’d largely ignored them for the trip, instead putting his focus on the netlink, issuing what sounded like orders. Though his low tone and authoritative grumble made the words difficult to hear, she could tell he’d switched languages. French, it sounded like—or maybe a patois.
She’d studied French, once. The current state of her brain had no chance of understanding it, though.
Walking ahead of them now, and well within Caishen’s walls, he still grumbled, his head dipping to the netlink. Two other security personnel had joined them on this side, adding to the three that had come from the Ozark.
For several long seconds, she thought he’d ignore Soo-jin this time, too. The guards at their sides kept giving them side-glances, but otherwise said nothing. The corridor, silent except for the tap and shuffle of their shoes and boots and the rumble of Hopper’s voice, led straight on with no curves. A set of long, narrow windows provided a viewing of space to the right. Aschere, the closest star, made a bright smudge near the far corner, its glow not quite enough to overpower the interior lights of the hallway.
