by Gorman, K.
“I want to go to the bridge.” She held up her netlink. “I can download the logs, see if there’s anything off. See what happened.” She paused. “Someone had to have sent that signal.”
“That someone might be the same one we saw up there before.”
“Might be,” she agreed. “Even if he is, I still want to go. We can get data and change the distress call.”
Marc’s jaw worked for a few seconds. “That risks us getting hit by the Shadows. We saw five up there, but there could be more.”
“There could be Shadows in any part of this ship.”
“All the more reason to get off it.”
“If we don’t change the distress, we could be putting people at risk.”
“That’s assuming people are as nice as us—and assuming some of those people will come before we hit Caishen station. That’s, what, four days out now? We can report the ship to them. Or we can leave a ping in the relay.”
“You think Caishen will send anyone?” She lifted both her eyebrows. “You’re even more optimistic than I am.”
Their radios crackled.
“You’re both idiots,” Soo-jin said. “Stop working from conjecture. Rescue the kid, see what he says, then argue.”
They exchanged a look. Then he leaned out of the door and gestured down the hall. “Do those doors lock?”
“Yes. Both panel and key.”
“Good. I’ve got a bad idea.”
*
The door felt cool and solid against her head. Pressing an ear against it, she held her breath as she listened hard, the darkness of the locked cabin quiet and still around her. The pad of her thumb felt along the saw-toothed edge of the key she'd found as she strained to hear through the door.
Marc had been right. This was a terrible idea.
It was a common strategy in netlink games. One player, usually the strongest or the fastest, lured an enemy to aggro on themselves and relied on their teammates to kill it—particularly effective in areas with allies that could hit them with area spells and attacks.
The real-life version wasn't quite so smart.
For one, she didn’t have area spells. None that he knew about, anyway, and she was not about to see exactly what her light did to these people. If the Shadows were this widespread, then there was guaranteed to be a witch hunt for anything weird once they got back to civilization.
That was human nature.
Marc’s idea hadn’t involved spells—or attacks, as it happened. He’d simply wanted to attract the mob into following him, which would theoretically clear the space for her to dip in, grab the kid, and get out. Provided all of them left.
She stepped back from the door and pulled her head away, turning her radio down and moving to the back of the room so the sound wouldn’t carry.
“How’s it going, Pied Piper?”
“I think I got most of them.” He sounded breathless. Metal clanged around him. Was he climbing the stairs? “Some dropped off, but if you’re quick—”
“Got it.” She turned back to the door. The key fumbled through her shaky hands, and she cursed as it stuck in the door before disengaging.
Then she hit the sensor, stepped out into the corridor, and flattened herself against the wall. It was easy to see where Marc had gone. A trail of people lingered in the hall, shuffling toward an open door at the end. One of them paused at its threshold, looked down, then stepped over the lip.
The closest stood about seven meters away.
As the door hissed closed behind her, some of them looked back.
Karin swore inwardly, cut her gaze downward, and pretended to be invisible.
Quiet, not moving a muscle, she watched them out of the corner of her eye.
After a few seconds, they turned away.
She waited a beat longer, then started inching her way along the wall, toward the bend in the hall. Then she was running as quietly as she could.
The hall had clear signs of people. There were dark spots on the floor—the scuffs of shoes, pressed-in dirt from the bare feet she’d seen, a few lost, scattered socks. She crinkled her nose at a couple of dark, reddish-brown splotches that marked the surface. One of the women must have been on her cycle.
Surprisingly, she could find no signs of other bodily functions. Whatever the Shadows had done to the people, they must still have had the wherewithal to find a toilet. Either that, or they didn’t need to go.
She frowned.
Somehow, the latter didn’t seem likely. But then again, these were potentially magical beings they were dealing with.
The door sensor glowed red. Ignoring the grease splotches on the keypad—the black-eyed people must have tried to open it at some point—she pressed her palm against it.
A low-pitched bloop sounded. The screen flashed a brief message.
Denied—External Code Required.
An external code? Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. Did that mean the kid hadn’t locked himself in?
Was there still another coherent person on this ship?
She tapped against the door’s metal. “Hey, can you hear me?”
Her back felt exposed. She kept throwing nervous glances over her shoulder. Now that she was around the bend, she couldn’t see the rest of the hallway, and had no idea whether the stragglers had decided to turn around or not.
They had seemed intent on this door before.
She knocked harder. “Hey—you in there?”
Something shifted on the other side of the door. A muffled noise, like someone crinkling paper.
A second later, the sensor flashed green.
The door hissed open. A boy, lean and twiggy, wide-eyed, and no older than ten, stared up at her. He clutched a stunner hard in his right hand.
They stared at each other, frozen. Then, he moved.
“You’re not one of them?” he asked, peeking out of the door. “Did you see them?”
“I saw them. My… partner led them away.” As the air mixed, the smell of sweat, urine, and feces made her sway back. Whoever this kid was, he must have been holed up in there for days. Maybe even since the attack.
“Can you tell me what happened?” she asked, glancing past him into another bedroom like the others, but with half-occupancy. Only one bed had been folded out from the wall, and the bedding on it looked more like a nest than anything. The only light came from a dim bulb on the wall above the bunk. She spotted food and leftover wrappers, mostly candy, in neat piles on the desk.
Probably the only thing he’d had on hand to eat. Her jaw clenched. That would explain the smell. His stomach must not have been happy.
His face worked, mouth opening and closing. He looked like he was about to cry.
“I know about the Shadows,” she added.
“Then you know what happened.” He threw a skittish look down the corridor. “We should go. They’ll be back.”
She frowned. “Why? Why would they come back?”
“Because they want me. Can we go? Please? You have a ship, right?” He took a hesitant step out, again throwing a fearful look down the corridor.
“Do you need to get anything?” she asked.
“No. I’ve got everything.” He pulled an ID chip pack from his pocket and showed it to her. “Oh—wait.”
He stepped back inside the room. Karin put a foot in the door to keep it from closing, frowning as he vanished around the wall.
When he came back, he held a large flashlight in his hands.
Emotion pulled at her throat. Again, her jaw clenched.
She held out her hand. “Let’s go.”
*
“Marc? What’s your status? Are the stairs clear?” She leaned around the corner, scanning the hallway. One person milled at the far end. The door she’d seen open earlier lay closed. Everything was quiet.
She dipped her chin down to her mic again. “Marc? I’ve got the kid. What’s happening with you?”
Behind her, the kid—Ethan, she’d since learned—shivered in her grasp.
He kept looking behind them, eyes wide and fearful
Good, she thought. No one will sneak up on me.
“Soo-jin? You there?” she asked.
“Always. I don’t know about Marc. You say you got the kid?”
“Yes.”
“See if you can get to the air bridge. I’ll let him through. If we haven’t heard back from Marc, then—”
“I’m here, I’m here—Sorry.” Heavy breaths came from his side of the comms. “Playing a bit of hide and go seek.”
“You all right?” she asked.
“Had a door that almost trapped me, but otherwise okay. You? How’s the kid?”
“His name’s Ethaniel. Ethan for short.” She glanced back. “He’s shaken, probably in need of some food.”
At the sound of ‘food,’ Ethan looked up. With the threat of Shadows and black-eyed people, he probably hadn’t even thought about a proper meal yet.
“Good thing we pack heavy,” Marc said. “There’s enough rations to make us obese by the time we hit Caishen.”
“Are the stairs clear?” she asked, turning back down the hall again. “I’d like to make a run for the air bridge.”
“About ten people shuffled by me a minute ago,” he said. “And I’m in a closet on the other side of the ship. I’d say go for it.”
“All right, thanks.”
“Just be careful.”
“Always.” She adjusted her grip on Ethan’s hand, feeling him do the same. “Ready?”
He swallowed hard. Then nodded.
They broke cover, striding as quick as they could for the door.
His steps made quiet pitter-patter sounds on the metal. He had to half-jog to keep up with her, but, by the way he pressed close to her side, she doubted he minded. The person at the end of the hall looked up as they moved, and a jolt of fear shot through her nerves. Her heart hammered, blood roaring in her ears.
She had no idea what would happen if one of the black-eyed people caught them, and she really did not want to find out. Back ramrod straight, she turned her walk into a half-run as they closed in on the stairs, her legs sweeping across the ground.
The door sensor flashed green before she got there.
She faltered, frowning. Marc?
No—Marc was on the other side of the ship.
Cold flooded her body. She slammed to a stop, pulling Ethan close to her as the door hissed open.
A long, thin leg of shadow stepped through.
Chapter 9
Karin’s hands shook as she pushed Ethan behind her, keeping a side profile. The Shadow was taller than any person she’d ever seen—so tall that it had to stoop to get through the door. The top of its head wavered mere inches from the ceiling.
Behind her, Ethan was dissolving.
“No, no, no, no, no, no—you can’t outrun those.” He squirmed in her grip, pulling away.
She held tight. “Shh. I know.”
It hadn’t moved. It seemed to be regarding her, much like the other one had, its head tilted to the side. She found it impossible to look away. All of her senses screamed at her—everything about it was wrong—and yet a part of her, something baseline that acted below her instincts, rooted her to the spot.
Slowly, without taking her attention from it, she turned off her comms mic. Then, she slid the crowbar out of her belt and passed it behind her, tapping Ethan’s side to get his attention.
“Hold this,” she said. “Don’t run yet.”
She wasn’t sure, but she thought the yet might have made the difference. He stilled, going quiet, and his stare raked across her shoulders as he looked up.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
I’m going to do what I came here to find out, she thought, pushing up her sleeves to show more of her skin.
Instead, she said, “Something weird. Please don’t run. I promise I’m not a bad guy.”
She took a steadying breath. Then she raised her hands, palms backwards, and stepped ahead.
The Shadow rippled at the movement. Its quiet regard of her deepened. She thought it might have grown, as if its motion had gained it an inch or two.
Maybe they were fluid. Maybe, if it turned sideways, she would see that it was paper thin.
She bared her teeth. Images slid through her mind—Nomiki, the field, the ruins, the sunset. And above it all, ever present, the stars. Even without seeing them, their light called to her.
Her skin tingled as she pulled on that call. Light seeped through her skin like liquid. Droplets pulsed on the underside of her forearms, their energy humming against the tiny hairs there like thin, glowing milk. It reflected off her face, off the underside of her chin, off her neck. It reached her eyes, tentative, growing. Even her irises adjusted.
The Shadow attacked.
Karin didn’t have time to think, only react. Light smashed from her hands, driving it back. She chased, ducking as it twisted and flailed, a hand sweeping over her head, and she pushed her light into it.
Light and shadow flashed, crackling together.
Then it twisted away—an impossible morph of its body—and flew back several steps, out of immediate reach.
She straightened. Light shone from her hands like swords, its beams a part-way physical presence.
Part-way physical, just like the Shadow monsters.
That was what she had wanted to see.
The Shadow regarded her for a few seconds. It seemed smaller than before. It also listed, as if hurt.
Good. Let it fear me.
Just as the thought rolled through her head, she realized how stupid it was. She was not a soldier. Except for the light, and the occasional lucky swing with a helmet, she had zero fight skills.
She had to end this before the Shadow figured that part out.
“Ethan, you keeping an eye on the back?” she asked. “I don’t want another of these creeping up.”
When he didn’t reply right away, her heart spiked in her chest—then clothes rustled behind her.
“All clear.”
The kid was probably a little overwhelmed at this point. She really didn’t blame him for that.
She straightened and took a step forward. Light flared under her hands, making the dim shadows on the walls jump like strobes.
The real Shadow didn’t jump. Instead, it seemed to have regained some of its earlier height. She had to look up to see its face. Its edges rippled and blurred, like a meniscus of water.
Then it raised an impossibly-long arm. Long, slender fingers, bending and moving more like fog than anything solid, reached out to her, shifting in and out of visibility. They reminded her of a ragged cloak, blowing in the wind.
She shot a beam of light into its head.
The Shadow recoiled. Then it froze, mid-frame.
The light dissolved it from the inside out like white embers. The Shadow tattered apart, black ribbons of it dissolving before it hit the floor.
Slowly, the rest of her light dissipated from her fingers. When she recovered from her shock, she pulled the remainder back to her, re-absorbing its energy like balls of quicksilver.
She turned around.
Ethan stood farther up the hallway where she had left him, wide-eyed and awkward. He didn’t move as she made her way back.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He nodded. His eyes never left hers.
She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
“Okay, then.” She turned back to the door. “Let’s—”
A tug on her shirt brought her up short. She twisted, glancing back at him.
To her surprise, he put his hand back into hers.
“Can I stay with you?” he asked.
She almost laughed. “Okay, but you have to promise me something.”
“What?” His eyes, wide, never far from fear, searched her face.
She squeezed his hand.
“Don’t ever tell anyone about what I can do.”
*
“Marc, I’ve locked the sta
irwell. You’ll have to use an override to get through it.”
Karin glanced down the hallway. She’d dropped Ethan off at the air bridge—Soo-jin would take care of him there—and was heading back down into the ship. Except for the Shadow, their trip had been uneventful.
“Got it,” he said. “You still here?”
“Yep. Where you at?”
“Close to the bridge. You wanted to go there, right? Change the broadcast?”
She sighed. Maybe he was right, and they should just put a ping on the relay. It’s not like the ship was going anywhere. Anyone with a decent shipboard comms system should get both warnings.
“How’s it look?”
“Dark and spooky. Not sure I’d want to hide out in a closet over here.”
“I wouldn’t. Those Shadows move pretty fast. And they aren’t stupid.”
“You got that right.” He swore. “Still gives me the heebies just thinking about them.”
“Yo, guys,” Soo-jin cut in. “Kid says you can patch into the bridge from an auxiliary port down by engineering. It might be safer.”
“Is it a full override or partial?” Marc asked.
“Don’t know. Might be worth a go, though?”
“How does he know this?” Karin asked.
“Says his dad was second officer. Showed him a few things.”
An image of the lone figure on the bridge floated through her mind, and a sudden pang of sadness pulled at her heart. This was a story that, she feared, did not end happily for him.
“Let’s try that,” she said into the radio. “I’d like to avoid Shadows if at all possible.”
That was the truth, at least. Her last encounter had just reminded her of how vulnerable she was. Even if she had come out on top, it could have ended very differently.
And if one snuck up behind her…
Well, she was only human.
As she brought up the map, skimming through the schematics to engineering, Marc groaned into the radio.
“Shit,” he said. “That’s close to where I dropped all those people.”
“You think they’re still moving?”
“Hell if I know. I didn’t exactly stick around to watch.”
“Maybe you’ll get to play Pied Piper again. Can you two get closer? I’ll put a marker on your maps. Green is Marc, red Karin.”
