by K. Gorman
She glanced to the gauge at the side of the screen. “Seven hundred. They’ve probably filled inner orbit already.”
“Only three hundred have comms up,” Soo-jin said, then, fingers twitching for something to do, she slipped behind the group and headed for navigation. “I’ll see what’s up.”
“Wait a sec,” Karin said as their dashboard beeped. “Auto-message from Alliance control.”
It was text-based, formal, and to the point.
As of Sol 2, day 23, 15:36 system standard time, a planet-wide blockade is in effect. Open comm ALI-0728 to arrange an inspection tour, take an e-ticket, and wait. Have your ship’s registration and license available and ready. Priority 823 in effect.
Any ships seen approaching planet surface without a completed inspection ticket will be destroyed.
Messages following, including all emergency databases and relevant contacts, will be dispatched shortly.
Regards,
Alliance Carrier Ship EN-001.
“What does that mean?” Senton’s voice quailed as he spoke. “We can’t get in?”
“It means that Alliance is manually inspecting all ships,” Marc said. “We’ll get in, but it might be a while. Karin?”
She sent a comm request to the number. About a minute later, their ticket registered with the Nemina’s dashboard, along with several other text-based messages.
“Twelve hour wait time, it looks like,” she said.
Marc skimmed the rest over her shoulder, then gave a long study of the other screen, where the count of orbiting ships had increased to 850 and was still rising. “Not too bad, considering. They must have already gone through most of them.”
“At least we have the feeds,” Soo-jin said from the nav-desk.
“And no sick on board.” He jabbed a finger to one of the other messages. “See the quarantine?”
“They’re looking a bit draconian on the treatment side,” Soo-jin said.
“Let’s not panic yet.” He glanced around. “We’ve got plenty of time and five netlinks. Comms aren’t down, and neither are the feeds.” He turned his attention downward. “Ethan?”
Startled, Ethan met his eyes.
“Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know, and don’t panic at the headlines. People like to blow things out of proportion.”
Beside her, she felt him bristle.
“I know. I’m not a stupid kid.”
Marc patted him. “Just checking. Anyone need sleep? Karin, I think we were next up? I’m not planning to, but…”
She gestured toward the screen. “I think I’ll stay and see if anyone’s talking. You?”
“I’m feeling much the same.” He glanced around, then stepped back. “I think I’ll bring that old cot up in here, set it up if anyone needs. That’ll keep us all together.” He paused. “You wanna take us in?”
“Mhmm.” She snapped up the navigation menu and registered the new course, aiming for a wide orbit around the planet.
It wasn’t long before the first few communication requests came in, popping up like flies in summer. She settled into her chair, opening one window into the feeds as she kept an eye on their course in the other.
With this many people talking, and—she checked—this many open ship-chats up, it was going to be a short twelve hours.
A half-cycle later, and the bridge had turned into a LAN party. Marc had spread out in the co-pilot’s chair in a deep-seated slouch that pulled him halfway down, thumbing through the netlink in his hand, and Soo-jin had pulled up several chats onto the navigator’s screen. Ethan slumped on the cot behind her, draped in a couple blankets he’d pulled from one of the rooms.
Even Senton was there, having pulled one of the Mess chairs into the space of wall just inside the doorway.
Karin blinked away from her screens, stifling a yawn, and took a moment to stretch. Something popped midway down her back.
“There’s some speculation that this all started in the Reinbar Belt,” Senton said. “You guys seeing this?”
“What—about that supposed secret lab?” Soo-jin snorted. “Doubt it.”
She agreed. Reinbar was one of the system’s go-to spook spots—an old mining area full of the husks of dead buildings and aged equipment. Every so often, an explorer group went in and took artistic space-decay photos of the relics. The Nemina had skimmed past part of it on the first leg of their trip, when they’d been on their way to the Amosi scrounge site, and hadn’t even given it an appraising glance.
Every scrounger in the system knew it had been picked clean.
The hype also meant that it was well-visited enough that any secret lab wouldn’t be much of a secret for very long.
“It’s possible there’s a lab there,” Marc said. “But you’re right. It’s a pretty baseless rumor, despite the… fervor behind it.”
“People will believe anything these days.” Soo-jin shrugged, then gestured toward them with her hand. “You remember that whole Radio Ghost thing?”
Marc lifted his head. “That thing with the echo?”
“Yeah. That was a net group’s doing. Decided they’d just make up an urban legend, see where it went.”
Karin frowned. “I thought someone had recordings of one?”
She remembered it well. It had been all across the net during her first year of school, only a couple years after she and Nomiki had come through the gate. Back then, she’d still been pawing through records for every hint of paranormal, mythological thing she could get her hands on—anything to explain what she was.
“Faked,” Soo-jin said, leaning back against her folded arms. “I knew a guy from one of the groups. Told me all about it.” Her gaze twitched to the main screen, checking the clock. Then she blew out the rest of her breath and swung herself out of the seat. “I’ll go check our contraband. Make sure it’s tied down legally.”
Karin glanced up at her as she passed. They didn’t have contraband. Even the vintage guns and booze were well within legal scriptures. Twelve hours had been enough for her to cross-check everything.
Not that it mattered. Considering the backlog of ships awaiting inspection, she doubted the Alliance was going to do much more than flash lights in their eyes.
An old freighter moved through orbit to their right. Despite the scratches and notches on its exterior, its silver hull gleamed in the sun as the nose pushed upward in the view screen like a breaching whale. A stylized paint job on its side depicted an old electric guitar, part of the periodic table (lead, iron, and gold), and the name Heavy Metal Queen Anne’s Revenge II.
Karin snorted. Then, lazily, she keyed a command into the dashboard and tracked its route.
Marc watched her. “Queen Anne’s Revenge? Wasn’t that an Old Earth pirate ship?”
“Well, they just came from the surface, so either they’re not pirates or Soo-jin really has nothing to worry about in the back.”
“Pirates?” Cloth rustled behind her. A second later, Ethan’s hand appeared near the back of her armrest. “My dad used to tell me about them. Are they really dangerous?”
She glanced over. The light from the screens lit his face in a dulled mix of color and reflected in his eyes like squares. He’d wrapped the blanket from the cot around his thin shoulders, and it hung down behind him like a cape.
Her blanket, she remembered with a pang. She’d used it at university.
“Yes,” Marc said. “Very.”
“Really? What do they do? Are there many?”
“Relative to system population?” Marc asked. “No. But there don’t need to be—and, contrary to any popular movies you may have seen, they are very, very dangerous and very, very smart.”
“They’d have to be,” she said. “The Alliance would tear them apart, otherwise.”
“I heard most liaise with the mob orgs.” Senton lifted his head in the corner. “Get their protection that way.”
“I’ve heard similar, though I’m unsure of the exact arrangements,” Marc said.
&nbs
p; Ethan took a small step forward, his eyes full of curiosity. The blanket brushed against Karin’s elbow. “What do they do that’s so scary?”
Marc raised an eyebrow. “Why? Is robbing, raping, and pillaging not enough for you?”
Ethan shrank back. “Sorry, I just—”
“Actually, it’s the way they do it that’s so scary.” Senton leaned forward. “A mugger in the city? They’ll just take your wallet and go, maybe punch you a few times. Pirates?” He quirked a brow. “I hear they don’t even bother with warnings anymore. Leaves too many witnesses. They just shoot first and pick the bones clean after. Scuttle it, you know?” He leaned back with a small shrug. “That way, they can pose as scroungers if any of the Three authorities happen to catch wind.” He caught Karin and Marc’s stares and raised one hand in a placating gesture, his smile easy. “No offense, of course.”
“None taken,” Marc said. “Of course, some might just—”
A yell interrupted him—from the back of the ship.
They all sat bolt upright. Karin’s neck turned so fast, she felt it crack.
A series of thumps and bangs sounded up the hall, along with another yell, this one strangled and cut off.
Marc’s chair slammed hard into the dash, and he sprinted past. Karin almost bowled into Ethan as she leapt up.
“Get the crowbar,” she ordered, then followed Marc’s broad back into the hall. Doors flashed by on either side as she ran. She caught a whiff of cooked apple ration as she passed Mess. Adrenaline pounded into her head.
Thumps sounded ahead of them. One of the boxes crashed down. Soo-jin yelled again, the sound muffled.
Marc jerked his course to Cargo Two.
When they got there, they got a quick glimpse inside—Soo-jin up against the crates, a Shadow with its fingers around her throat, its darkness smothering up her neck.
Then the door shut in their face.
Marc smacked against it, bounced back, and lunged for the sensor.
It beeped at him, flashing red.
He growled, smacked it again, and input the security override.
It opened.
They stopped short. Karin’s breath caught.
Soo-jin stood alone in the center of the aisle, looking down at the floor. Red marks crowded her face and neck from where the Shadow had held her, recovering from the pressure. A couple of loose dreads fell over her face, hanging over her eyes.
The Shadow was nowhere to be seen.
Karin made a small sound in her throat. She froze to the spot, eyes wide.
No. No, no, no, no, no.
“Soo?” Marc took a few steps toward her, his arms lifting. “Soo-jin?”
Soo-jin looked up as he approached, her hair falling back from her face. Her expression was neutral, and she reacted to Marc only in a slight backward sway of her body. Her eyes registered dimly in the light of the hallway.
They were jet-black.
Chapter Twenty
It felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the ship. Karin’s insides numbed. Nobody moved. She stuttered, hands shaking, and fumbled into the wall. The whole vessel was so quiet that she could hear the pulse of the engine.
“Soo-jin?” Marc said again. He took another step forward, an arm reaching out to her shoulder, tentative. “Soo?”
Soo-jin tracked his approach. Her black eyes watched him, unblinking.
A sob gasped behind her. Ethan’s arm brushed against her hip.
“Fuck,” said Senton, farther back. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck!”
A shoe scuffed over the floor’s metal. He stalked back up the hallway, to his room, or maybe the bridge.
Ethan shrank away, then crept back up next to her. He had a flashlight in one hand and the crowbar in another. His eyes fixated on Soo-jin, never breaking his stare.
“She—did she—” He choked on the words, unable to finish. The crowbar shook in his grasp.
Ahead, Marc had straightened. He turned, flicked on the lights—it took a few tries, by the sound of it—and disappeared into the room.
Karin stepped forward and put a foot in the door to keep it from closing.
Soo-jin did nothing, only stood there, impassive. Blood trickled from a small cut high on her cheek. It was already swelling, changing color, as if it had been hit hard. Red marks flared up on her neck from where the Shadow’s fingers had been.
Karin’s mouth opened, then closed. She stared at her, her breaths shallow and quick.
Soo-jin was… gone.
Marc returned after a quick minute. “It’s clear.”
She hadn’t even realized that he’d been doing a sweep. Hadn’t even thought—Clio, Soo, she was, was—
A tear pricked, hot and wet, at her eyes. Her chest constricted, as if her ribs had turned to wood. She fought past it, sucked in a shallow breath. “We have a camera in here, right? We can see how—”
“Yes,” Marc said, tense. “Yes, but—” He turned to Soo-jin, bowing his head and shoulders to peer into her black eyes. “Soo, come on. Come over here.”
Hesitant, he laid an arm around her shoulders and, when she didn’t resist, led her forward.
Karin stepped aside as they came through the door and watched them go.
It felt like her brain had disconnected—like she was somewhere else, watching everything through a separate net screen. Her jaw opened, then closed, working on the words.
Shock. She was going into shock.
“Let’s get her somewhere—” Marc glanced up the hallway. “—Mess?”
“Yes.” She gave herself a shake and stepped ahead of them, forcing herself to focus. The lights were bright in the Mess, and there were chairs. They could sit her down and discuss what needed to be done.
But then, footsteps sounded up the hall. Senton came back around the corner, his eyes wide, movements fast and erratic.
“We aren’t going to get down there now, are we? They aren’t going to let us through—not with one of them. What are we going to do? What’s your plan? We have to get rid of her, you know, we have to—”
“Move.” Marc pushed him aside, dragging Soo-jin behind him. His hand held her wrist. “Ethan, hand me that light, will you?”
The space beside her emptied as Ethan jogged up to him. Marc grabbed it without a backward glance, only twisting to navigate Soo-jin around the turn and then leading her through the door to Mess.
Senton stood in the hall, his mouth shut. Panic shone bright in his wide eyes.
“You have to get rid of her,” he said. “I know she’s your friend, but she’s gone. You need to realize—”
His words cut off as Karin shoved him back, much harder than she meant to. “Shut up.”
When she followed Marc into the Mess, he’d sat Soo-jin down in a chair and was flashing the light across them, the way a doctor might.
“Come on, Soo. Come on.” He tipped her head back, shining the light into one of her eyes. “I know you’re in there. Please be in there.”
She didn’t react at all. Her face was devoid of emotion.
Karin felt her mind begin to spin again. Numbness began to spread, to separate.
Ethan shrank back against her, staring hard, gripping the crowbar tight with both hands. She reached down automatically, a hand going to his shoulder, and the touch grounded her. His body trembled against her hip.
She stared, too. As Marc leaned forward, bringing the light closer, Soo-jin’s eyes reflected it like a pool of black oil.
Except—part of it did give, as if it had a slight matte quality.
Maybe they needed something a little stronger.
She clenched her jaw tight. For a second, her whole body went tense. She didn’t breathe.
Ethan’s right, I need to try. I need to use it.
She tapped his shoulder. “Go keep an eye on our guest. Yell if he decides to make any stupid calls.”
Ethan flinched at the tap. Then his head jerked up, wide eyes staring at her face.
A look passed between them.<
br />
His eyebrows shot up, realizing what she was saying.
He gave her a quick nod and scampered.
Senton, who had been close enough to hear the last part, stepped forward as Ethan scrambled out, a hand rising. “Hey, you can’t keep—”
She shut the door in his face.
Marc, too, had caught the exchange. His face frowned at her, confusion muddling its edges. “What’s wrong?”
She took a breath and straightened her back. Then she lifted her hands and stepped forward.
“Hold her down,” she ordered. “I don’t know if this is going to work.”
For a second, he looked like he was going to argue. But then, he stepped around the back of the chair. Soo-jin protested as his arms went around her chest and arms—one hand tried to get away, like a baby animal in a bath—but she kept to the chair.
Black eyes looked up as Karin paused in front of her, as soulless and apathetic as the depths of space. Her expression barely shifted.
She drew in a breath, and closed her eyes as she let it go. The lights hummed down around them, a tinny sound that overlaid the deeper, baseline revolution of the engines that rumbled, subsonic, through the walls and floor. She’d left them on standby in orbit, keeping warm.
Part of her wished she were alone for this. Marc kept his silence, but his stare bored into her. It had an air of inevitability to it. As if, no matter how hard she’d tried to run and hide, no matter how hard she’d tried to build a life away from her powers, she would just cycle straight back to her origin—as if the universe wouldn’t let her get away quite so simply.
She almost laughed at that thought, and then the one that followed: If the universe had sent Shadow people after her, then what had it sent after Nomiki, whose abilities ran far darker and deadlier?
Her next breath came slower, deeper. She dragged on her energy, called her light, used every inch of her inhale to pull it up—and was surprised by its fervent response.
