by K. Gorman
The Shadow dissipated like scraps of black, burning cloth.
The pieces fell around her, vanishing from sight. She lay there for a few seconds, frozen to the spot. Her heart hammered in her chest. Everything shook. It felt like she’d just run a marathon. Light glimmered in the air.
She called it back to her, spiraling it in through her skin. Then she sat up.
With shaking hands, she dipped her chin to the mic on her collar.
“Yeah, sorry. There was a Shadow.” She took a heavy breath, pushing herself up and walking on shaky legs back to the junction. “Download’s almost finished. Give me a few to change the message, then we can head back.”
Chapter Ten
A heavy clunk sounded through the ship as they disengaged from the Ozark. Karin watched the air bridge retract on the outboard display, a sense of numbness pooling around the edges of her head as it finished with another clunk.
They drifted back.
No one said anything. Apart from the occasional beep, the Nemina’s bridge was dead silent. Even Soo-jin had a grim look on her face as they drew away, more and more of the Ozark’s massive body slowly becoming visible.
Karin tapped a few keys, engaging the auxiliary engines. The mains, still warm from their earlier flight, only needed another few minutes to get back up to speed.
Then she triple-checked the emergency broadcast.
It bounced back the same message she’d programmed in.
“It’s dead in space, relatively speaking,” she said to the silent bridge. “I made sure it’ll stick around the relay.”
A small hiccup of sound came from behind her, and she winced. ‘Dead in space’ was probably not the best descriptor she could have used for the ship, given present company. Ethan stood in front of Soo-jin, also watching the Ozark grow smaller on the display. A mix of emotions contorted his face. He hadn’t cried during the time Karin had escorted him from the ship, but must have broken down since. The skin around his eyes looked raw and splotchy, tinged with red.
Soo-jin had a hand on his shoulder. Her fingers curled into his shirt. After a minute, she pulled him away. “Come on. Let’s get you fed and cleaned.”
As she led him away, he didn’t look much more alive than the people on the ship had been.
“That guy we saw on the bridge was probably his dad,” Karin said after they left, keeping her voice low. “I feel like a piece of shit leaving them like this.”
“There’s nothing more we can do for them.”
“I know, but—” She turned to look at him. “They weren’t eating, Marc.”
She’d taken a closer look at the Mess room on her way back. Apart from a few dishes and other debris she’d found on the floor, it didn’t look like anything had been touched—so, unless the black-eyed zombie people were tremendously good at cleaning up for themselves…
“Yeah, I gleaned that, as well—but they don’t shit, either. Maybe something about their… condition suppresses digestion?”
“Like a stasis? Let’s hope so,” she said. “We’re still more than two days out from Caishen station, and I don’t think they’re going to send anyone.”
“There may be relatives there that’ll go help,” he said. “It’s happened before.”
She gave him a sidelong look. By the set to his jaw, he knew just how unlikely that was.
But, as he had said, there was nothing more they could do. Not unless they wanted to risk the Shadows and pack twenty people into the cargo bay—and even then, they’d probably be quarantined from entering the station.
“Sol’s child,” he said, staring at the screen. “How are you doing, by the way? That cut need seeing to?”
There’d been no hiding her fight with the Shadow. It had knocked her around pretty well. The bruises had yet to show color, but she could definitely feel the tenderness around her body—and parts of her were already swelling. The cut skin at the side of her eye was the most noticeable, but by the way her knee was seizing up, she had a feeling the next few days were going to be spent mincing around.
“I’ll self-administer from Med when Soo-jin’s done,” she said. “Probably just need some ice and painkillers.”
“I stocked up with CoolSkin at the last port.”
“Sounds good.”
She flexed her wrist. Part of it was starting to stiffen, too—though she suspected it came more from strain and overuse than from hitting it on something. Of course, she hadn’t exactly kept track of what parts of her had gotten whacked while scrambling to fight the Shadow…
“So, how far do you think this thing’s spread? And how?” Marc frowned. “We were well outside comms reach when our Shadows hit, and well away from the Ozark. Do you think it’s hit the station, too?”
She shivered. She did not want to deal with an entire, active station full of Shadows and black-eyed people. “These things are repeatedly breaking known scientific laws. At this point, I think assuming yes would be the way to go.”
“I agree. Assume the worst.” He glanced to her, then at the screen. “How are we doing for fuel? Is there enough to reach Enlil if we can’t get through the station?”
“Yes, though that shouldn’t be necessary. Caishen has a UMI dock. Provided they aren’t dry, we can still fill up.”
A light flashed on the dash as the engines finished warming—quicker than last time, since they hadn’t been entirely cold—and she flicked it off. The controls clunked back into the desk as the auto-pilot took over. Even though she hadn’t been using them, instead relying on the system auto-glide function to back them out, they’d been sitting above her lap, ready.
The metal around them thrummed as the main engine caught, and she felt a slight tug as the ship adjusted course, swerving back onto the route she had set.
“Unless they actively deny us. Good thing we’re on an old scout.” He patted the back of the seat, then leaned in to look at her map. “I think we should switch course after, head for Enlil. I want to check up on Cookie. You have people there, too, right?”
“Yes. My sister.”
“Soo-jin, too. I think it’d be a good idea to check in. Face to face.”
“Yes, face to face is best.”
Not that it would stop her from calling the second she got in range of the planet, but she had a feeling that, if others had been attacked like they had, the comms lines might be metaphorically tangled. Transmission rigs could only handle so much quantity. Although, if they had the Nemina’s old wartime communications back online…
Well, that wouldn’t work well for calling Enlil. It was Alliance, not Fallon, and they did not like hostile comms on their surface.
A shuffle by the door made them glance over. Soo-jin reappeared, the corridor’s light making her skin sallow before she stepped into the stronger glare of the bridge.
She glanced between them. “I heard something about Enlil?”
“We’re going there after Caishen. Check on our peeps.”
“Good.” A hand went to her hip, though Karin thought it was more an act of habit than one of attitude. Soo-jin tilted her shoulder and gestured back the way she’d come. “Ethan’s eating. He insists on sleeping with Karin.”
Marc raised his eyebrows. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Wouldn’t say. Probably doesn’t want to be alone, and she did save him. In his eyes.”
“I don’t mind.” Like the cabins in the Ozark, there were secondary beds hidden in the Nemina’s cabins. They’d be opposite each other.
Besides, she had a feeling she knew exactly why he had chosen her.
At least he hadn’t gone blabbing about her magical light ability. She had been worried about that. There was only so much that could be played off on hysteria.
“Any new theories on the Shadows?” Soo-jin asked. “According to Ethan, they attacked them about the same time as they did us.”
“Did he have the dream?” Karin asked.
“I didn’t ask. He was kind of… well, it wasn’t really the time t
o ask.” A grimace spread across her features as she glanced back toward the hallway, then lowered her voice. “Might be good to get that out of him, though. I’m starting to think you’re right about that dream shit.”
“As much good as it does us.” Marc straightened, then stretched. “Suppose I better go download anything the relay has on ‘dreaming.’ They used to experiment on that stuff, didn’t they? I think I heard that somewhere.”
“Yeah, they did. Cracked-up government scientists tocking with people. I’ve read that shit. All isolation tanks and some really messed up drugs.” She gave him a half-smile. “Would not recommend reading it before bed.”
Karin hid her wince. Though it was tweaker slang, tocking was a fairly accurate word for what the scientists had done to her and the others in the compound. Years and years and years of drugs, experiments, and brainwashing, all behind smiling, pleasant faces. She got a sudden flash of green-lit labs, hospital beds, injections.
He gave a half-hearted wave as he left. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Soo-jin watched him go. Then she turned to Karin. “You look like shit.”
She managed a smile. “Thanks.”
“You find what you were looking for in there?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Well, if you ever need me to sit on my ass again while you dive into unknown peril and get beat up…” Soo-jin trailed off. “You gonna tell me what you went in for?”
She opened her mouth, then paused. “I—I wanted to see the Shadows again. See if something worked against them.”
Soo-jin’s eyes shot up. “See if what worked against them?”
“Er—well, you know how they stepped out of the light when we turned it on?”
“Yeah?”
“I wanted to see if that was repeatable.”
“And you didn’t tell either of us about it?”
“Marc and I didn’t see any Shadows when we were together,” she said.
Soo-jin chewed her cheek, her eyes narrowing. The bridge was quiet around them. A slight correction made them lean as the ship adjusted. The engines picked up another notch after, and Karin felt her stomach do a half-hearted flip as the artificial gravity hiccuped.
“You know you can’t bullshit a bullshitter, right?” Soo-jin asked. “And I’ve bullshitted with some of the best in the system.”
Karin kept her stare. She had to admit, of all the lies she’d made in her lifetime, this one was one of the weakest. But she was dug in now.
They studied each other for another few seconds.
Then Soo-jin shrugged. “Whatever. Kid’s yours now, by the way. My shift ended when he was clean and fed. I’ve got first cycle.”
She turned, grabbed her netlink from the navigation station, and left.
Chapter Eleven
Ethan was in the hall when Karin left the bridge, standing outside of her cabin door with a hesitant look. His eyes widened when she came into view, and he took a step back, hands curling to his chest.
“Sorry—I didn’t mean—Ms. Soo-jin said—”
She lifted her hands in a calming gesture. “It’s okay. I know. She told me.”
Relief flooded his face—well, part of it, anyway. The fear and caution remained in his eyes.
After all he’d been through, she doubted it’d go away anytime soon.
Soo-jin had done a good job on him. He was scrubbed clean, his skin glowing from the reflection of the hallway’s under lighting, and she’d managed to cobble together a set of clothes for him. An oversize shirt—one of Marc’s, by the look of it—drooped from his shoulders, hanging almost down to his knees. Underneath, a pair of Soo-jin’s old leggings made a loose set of pants. He probably had to keep pulling them up.
Better than nothing. And better than the soiled crap he’d been wearing before.
He flinched when she stepped forward, gaze darting between her and the open door beside her where Marc sat.
She caught Marc’s eye when he glanced up. “You’ll be all right for a bit alone?”
“I think so.” He lifted the glowing netlink. “I’ve got a bit of reading to catch up on.”
She nodded, then stepped forward. Ethan drew back another step as she hit the door sensor to her cabin, but she put a foot in the doorway and gestured for him to go in. “Come on. Let’s get you set up.”
He skittered by, ducking his head as he passed her. She turned back across the hall, exchanged one last look with Marc, and followed him in.
The door hissed closed behind them.
Ethan had stopped. She almost ran into him as he looked around, his eyes wide, and she had a brief moment where she looked directly down from over him. His hair, a mid-length shortness, stuck out from the back of his head like a series of cowlicks.
She touched his shoulder, and he stumbled around, angling his body to the door to make himself narrower. The smell of rubbing alcohol came to her as she eased past him, probably from one of the cuts Soo-jin had treated.
He didn’t speak as she piled a few things on her bed, then pulled her trunk away from the wall to make way. She unfolded the other bed from the wall and locked it into place, then pulled the sheets out from inside their packaging and gave them a sniff.
They weren’t fresh, but they didn’t smell damp or musty. The kid could deal with them until they got a chance to put them through the laundry. She pulled them over the inlaid mattress, sniff-tested the pillow, and then rummaged through her locker for the spare blanket she kept.
All the while, she felt Ethan’s stare on her. He didn’t say a word.
When she was finished, she sat back on her bed and gestured for him to try out his.
He moved forward, his step hesitant. One hand pressed down on the mattress as if testing it. Then he turned and sat, the height of the bed bringing his feet a couple of inches off the floor.
They stared at each other. Neither moved.
“So,” Karin began. “I—”
“I didn’t tell,” he said, loud at first, but then he gave a frightened look to the closed door and cut his volume. “Really. I didn’t.”
She frowned, not quite sure what to make of it. “I know. If you had, they’d be all over me by now, demanding answers.”
He was shaking, she realized. He tried to hide it, but she could see it in his arms—and his head. The more she looked, the more she saw. She tried to remember if he’d been shaking in the hall, or when she’d bumped into him just inside the door.
She’d thought it had been normal—a trauma response from the last three days of hiding in terror—but, as his shaking grew, she realized that it was still happening.
“Are you afraid of me?”
He made a small noise—half-sob, half-gasp—in his throat. “What are you?”
She sat very still on her bed. He was shaking even harder now. He didn’t seem to be able to control it. Fresh tears wet his cheeks, glinting in the light.
“I’m human,” she said.
“Really? B-but—”
“Really. I’ve had enough tests to prove that, at least.” She shuffled herself back, crossing her legs in front of her and leaning back against the wall. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she added.
He hiccuped. “I know. I—it’s just—”
“I know,” she said. “It’s scary, isn’t it? There’s all these scary monsters trying to get you, and then I do something unnatural. It’s okay. I’m not offended.”
His lower lip trembled. He’d dropped his stare when he had started crying, but now, he looked up, studying her from across the small divide between their beds.
“Why did you pick me?” she asked, though she suspected that she already knew the answer. “Why sleep here?”
This time, he raised his eyebrows, as if the answer were obvious. “You can keep the Shadows away.”
“So can they,” she said, gesturing to the door. “Marc’s got a blaster.”
“My dad had a blaster, too,” Ethan said. “He still got… taken.”
Taken. She shuddered, images of the black-eyed people surfacing in her mind. God, what a word for it.
“Can you show me again?” he asked, then seeing her expression, added, “The light. Can I see it again?”
Automatically, she glanced to the door. It was closed, sealed, the hallway outside quiet, and there were no security cameras inside the ship cabins. Marc was out there, but he was reading his books. And her light didn’t make any noise.
Ethan leaned forward as she lifted her hand, rubbing her thumb and index finger together. The skin tingled as she focused.
A droplet of light formed, glowing brighter than any other lights in the room. It reflected in Ethan’s eyes as it rose up, hovering in the air.
“How did you—were you born with it?” he asked.
“I don’t know. It’s not something I remember.”
“Yeah, but how can you do it? What does it feel like?”
She chewed her tongue, her frown deepening as she thought. “How do you speak?”
“What?”
“How do you know to speak? You learned the language, right? But you already knew how to move your throat, lips, and tongue, right? You already knew how to use your vocal chords to make noise, right?”
“I… guess? My dad taught me words, I think. I don’t really remember.”
“It’s like that,” she said. “You were too young to remember, right? I was young, too. I don’t really remember.”
He frowned. “So… someone taught you how to make light?”
“Yes,” she said. “I think so. But I don’t really remember. My sister and I… we ran away.”
He sat up straighter. “You have a sister? Can she do it, too?”
Karin winced. The things Nomiki could do were not the best addition to the conversation. She sought out high-risk mercenary jobs based on vocation, not pay.
“No,” she said simply. “She can’t.”
The conversation was starting to make her uncomfortable—talking, even thinking about her past made her feel paranoid. As if by bringing it up and letting it out, she was calling it back.
