by Gorman, K.
“Red’s unlucky,” Marc said. “Use blue.”
“Red is super lucky. It stays.”
The markers appeared on her visor a second later. Karin sorted through the map to find a route.
“All right. Moving now.”
Without anyone with her, the walk proved both faster and twice as unnerving. She kept her steps light and quick, hugging walls like she’d seen people do in movies and checking around corners with probably more caution than warranted.
She only saw another person once—a man, wandering through the fused, pre-fabricated tables of an otherwise empty Mess hall—and he didn’t see her.
No shadows moved.
She reached the red dot on the map in ten minutes.
“Here,” she said. “Marc?”
“Almost. Needed a detour.”
They were on opposite sides of a long corridor that, by the map, linked into the auxiliary port control. Karin fingered the netlink in her hand. She’d already prepped it for the job—both the download network and the new emergency signal ready. She’d had to guess at the ship’s programming, but she was pretty sure it’d hold. If it didn’t, it’d only take her another couple of minutes to re-hash the message into its system.
“If anyone’s interested, the zombie people are attracted to light,” Marc commented a minute later.
She frowned. “What?”
“I found some flares on my detour. They’re all gathered around one, staring at it.”
“How long’s the flare last?”
“A half-hour, I’d guess. I have a couple more with me.”
“Good. Let me take a look.”
She took a breath, straightened her spine, and hit the door panel.
It hissed open.
Three people looked up at her, pausing in their meander of the hall. As she did a quick scan of the route—no Shadows—a fourth one poked his head around the corner that led to the port.
The door hissed shut again.
“At least four,” she said. “Can’t see down the rest.”
“I’ll get them,” Marc said. “Hold tight.”
A muffled noise caught her attention through the panel—she thought she heard a scrape, and some kind of metal-on-metal rattle. Then, clearly, Marc thwacked his crowbar hard against the wall.
“Yoohoo!” he yelled. “Come on, party people!”
Karin raised an eyebrow.
At least one of them was having fun.
The metallic rapping sound kept on for some time. The entire ship probably heard it.
Hopefully not. She didn’t want the entire hoard—and Shadows—headed their way.
A few minutes later, her radio crackled.
“All right, it should be clear. I think I got them all,” he said. “There were six, by the way.”
“Six?” Soo-jin said. “I thought you led about fifteen around earlier. Geez, these people get around. You think they can unlock doors?”
“It looked like they could,” Karin said. “I’ll be locking both once I’m through.”
She patted the sensor, stiffening as the door opened and the corridor came back into view.
Like Marc had said, it was empty. But she did not like taking chances.
She stepped inside, put her back briefly to the space to lock it, then turned around once the panel flashed red, surveying the space again.
A light flickered further up the hall, close to the junction that led to the port. The walls here were different than in other parts of the ship—they still bore the same drab, gray paint as the rest of the place, but their shape wasn’t as streamlined and straight as the halls outside. They were molded, as if making room for pipes and vents at their tops and bottoms.
She stepped down the couple of stairs to the floor and veered left, keeping her view of the adjoining hall as broad as possible. Muggy air blew into her face as she drew closer, and she squinted as the smell of stale body odor came to her. She hadn’t gotten much more than a glimpse of the people who had been down here, but she’d assumed they were like the others—dark-eyed, slow-moving, despondent… and, the miraculous lack of urine and feces aside, either uninterested or incapable of basic cleanliness and grooming.
At least these people appeared to have kept all their clothes during the attack.
She felt immediately bad for having the thought. If not for her light, she would be in the same boat as them. And it’s not like she wore pants to bed every single night. Who did?
After making sure the second hall was clear, she darted up to the other door, keeping her steps as quick and silent as she could, and locked it.
She was safe. For now.
The netlink clicked open as she ducked around the corridor of the junction and found the auxiliary port, exactly where Ethan had said it’d be.
The display rippled to life under her touch. Not much different from the Nemina’s—a little older, perhaps, with some changes to the interface that weren’t hard to navigate. It only took her a minute or so to find the logs, along with the rest of the ship’s info. The netlink beeped when she pushed it into the terminal. A countdown timer appeared as it downloaded the data.
She skimmed it, checking its rate, then switched back to finding the broadcast sessions. If the ship followed basic protocol, as it had so far, then she should find the emergency broadcast under the—
A line of cold touched her neck, seeping through her spine. Every single hair on her body lifted up.
She whirled.
The Shadow stood less than a meter from her, blocking the hallway. Its arm was outstretched, the tips of its ragged fingers inches from her face. She ducked. Light flared in her palms.
Too late. The Shadow lunged.
It caught her in the throat and slammed her into the console.
Alarms sounded from behind her as she slumped down, struggling against its grip. Pain knocked the breath from her. She gasped, kicked out, wrestled with its arm. Her fingers sank into its darkness where she dug them in.
Its grip stayed around her throat, closing off her windpipe. Another hand touched her head. Her hair shifted as four long fingers slid around the back, following the curve of her skull into the base of her neck.
Tears blurred her vision. She grasped harder, struggled to pull the light back into her palms.
A glimmer appeared like a thin, faint line of star shine.
The effect was immediate.
The Shadow snatched itself back, letting her go.
She dropped to the floor.
A second later, she had the crowbar in her hands.
The first swing hit empty air, falling far short of its target—but it kept the Shadow back long enough for her to regain her feet. She sucked in a breath, called the light to her, and blinked her vision clear.
The second swing was much more effective.
Even though she knew the Shadow had a physical presence, she was still surprised when the bar actually hit.
The impact jerked up her arm. She staggered.
The Shadow retracted from the hit. Then it lunged again, arms going for her head.
She dropped to the floor as it crashed toward her, shoving the crowbar up between them. The Shadow made no sound as it hit the wall. She twisted around, kicked out, saw an opening and squirmed through it, hands and knees scrabbling to crawl away. The crowbar clunked and scraped against the floor as he struggled.
Soo-jin’s voice crackled over the radio as she scrambled to her feet, runners finding purchase on the floor.
“Karin? How’s it going with the download?”
A prickle of cold washed up her back as she ran for the junction and then for the left-hand door. She swung the bar out behind her. It got jerked from her hand.
A gasp sobbed through her throat. She pushed more speed in. The end was fast approaching, the sensor glowing red from her lock. Numb fingers reached up, ready to punch in the code, ready to burst through the door—
For what? So the Shadow could catch up to her in the next hall?
So she could get impeded by all the zombie-people that the Shadows had already gotten? So she could lead it to Marc?
Karin faltered. Her mouth trembled.
No. She couldn’t do that.
She had to end this. Now.
Blinking past the emotion, she drew a ragged breath—half moan, half-yell—and spun. Light bubbled through her skin as she stumbled sideways, flooding the corridor like a strobe of lightning. A scream snarled from her throat as she pushed her will into the light.
The Shadow bowled her over. They both went down, tangled in strobes of black and white.
“Karin? You okay in there?”
Her vision blacked out. She felt its hands on her, sliding through her skin like a living ghost. The blur at its edges pressed into her head, pushing through her mind. A sob wracked through her as she squirmed. Tears pricked her eyes, streaking wet and cold down the sides of her eyes. Her arms shook, energy pulsing through them, shining milky white, burning like a star.
After a few seconds, she realized she could still see them.
The Shadow felt lighter, not as smothering.
She blinked.
Then she snarled.
A second scream tore through her mouth as she stabbed the light into its gut. She kept screaming as the Shadow began to burn, collapsing from the inside out like an old sun—except all of the light was hers and, instead of imploding and exploding, it drifted back into the air, shimmering like sunlight off the ocean.
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 10
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. Ethan stood in front of Soo-jin, also watching 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?”
“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 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 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 to 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 them 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.
