by Gorman, K.
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. 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 11
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 underlighting, 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.
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. 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 kne
w 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.
And they’d run away for very good reasons.
“Hey,” she said, leaning forward on her bunk. “You remember the night it first started?”
The guarded expression snapped back into place. He nodded. “Why?”
“Did you have a dream? About stone ruins?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Yes—how did—”
“We all had dreams. Mostly the same.” She paused, searching his face. “Was there anyone else in your dream?”
“No. Wait—was there in yours?”
“Yeah.” She rocked back. “My sister. Still trying to find out what she was doing there.”
“What does it mean, that we all had the same dream?” he asked. “Do you know?”
She shook her head. “We’re trying to find out. Marc’s downloaded a bunch of dream science journals. I’m going to help him read through them in a few minutes.” She paused, giving him a critical look. The kid hid it well, but she could tell he was exhausted. She leaned over, reaching for the netlink she’d propped against the pillow. “Actually, I think I’ll do that now.”
Ethan sat straighter as she stood up. “What? You’re leaving?”
She hesitated, then touched the tips of her fingers against his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll be just over there.” She gestured to the door. “I’ll keep it open.”
“But—I—”
“We can talk more later, after you sleep,” she said. “Think of more questions. Maybe I’ll answer them.”
Chapter 12
The sky was clear and cold, and the wind raised gooseflesh on her skin. She shivered, wrapping her arms around her. She was in a dress—a very old, sunny-day dress she hadn’t worn in a very long time—and she was alone.
The ruins stood in front of her, larger and closer than they’d been before. Close enough that she could see the slight shape of their etchings under the light of the stars. The scratched white looked thin and stretched against the rough gray—nearly invisible, actually.
But it called to her deep within her bones.
She shivered again, this time not because of the cold. Then, she glanced around, taking in the surroundings.
Nomiki wasn’t around this time. The field lay empty, dark. Pockets of shadow filled the dips in the grass, shifting as the wind blew. A dark fringe of trees lined the edge. Like the stones, they appeared closer than they had been last time. If she went downhill, then veered to the left, she’d see the edge of the compound’s walls.
The wind blew again, rustling through the dry grasses. Her hair flipped over her face, and she raised a hand, pushing it back.
She took a careful step, testing the ground, then walked over to the closest stone.
It towered over her, twice as tall and more than four times as thick, and its rough surface scratched at her fingertips as she traced one of its faint etchings. Like the rest, its designs were well-worn, impossible to guess at. They looked like a mix of Nazca desert drawings and something she’d once found in old Scandinavian stone carvings—she’d researched them both, along with many others, back when she had still been looking for answers.
But the old stone was too worn to tell, and anyone who could have explained it was long, long gone.
She splayed her hand against its surface. The stone felt cold, but not as cold as the wind that blew across the field. And, in an entire world that seemed to be moving, it stood still.
That mattered somehow.
Karin glanced up. The stars were out. Unlike last time, this dream had started in night. Not a trace of the sunset lingered in the sky. A dark wisp of cloud pulled across the sky.
Slowly, the stars seemed to grow brighter, to move, like one of those long-exposure pictures from a planet.
Except instead of spinning, they were falling.
Their light pulled at her. She could feel herself lifting up, rising…
*
The blaster went off in her ear. Karin snapped her eyes open just in time to see the Shadow vanish.
Marc crouched at her bedside, braced against her trunk and locker, a grim, determined expression set on his face, the gun barely a foot from her head. The heat from its plasma pack radiated onto her cheeks.
Slowly, her heart rate returned to normal. She took a deep, steadying breath, then pushed herself into a sitting position.
There hadn’t been a struggle this time. Her blankets were just as she’d left them, and she’d managed not to leak any light out. That was something she’d worried about, with Marc watching. It was also the reason she’d pulled out her other spare blanket and wrapped herself so thoroughly before going to sleep. Ethan had watched her do that, a knowing look in his eyes.
She glanced over. He was still there, bolt upright on the other bed, his back ramrod straight against the far wall.
“I told you he was better,” she said. “That blaster comes in handy.”
“Actually, I had to get around to this side,” he said, lowering the weapon and tucking it into its holster. “Didn’t want to risk the hull.”
Ah. “Is that why it was so close?”
“No. It started out that way. Didn’t even see me, I think.”
Movement by the door caught her eye. Soo-jin appeared, did a quick scan of the room, then put a hand to her hip. “I go to sani for one minute and I miss out on the action.”
“Yeah, well—there wasn’t much to see. Right, Ethan?” Marc turned his head, an inquiring eyebrow lifted.
Ethan didn’t say a word.
Marc shrugged. Then he pushed himself up from the cramped position. “There’ll be more to see soon, anyway. We’re almost within spitting range of Caishen.”
Karin glanced at the clock, then started to pull the covers off. “All right, I’ll change. Meet you on the bridge.”
Twenty minutes later, they all crowded around the main screen, listening to the ship’s tone as they hailed the station command. After a few seconds, she brought up a second window and zoomed in on the station with the Nemina’s outboard cameras.
“There are ships docked there,” Marc said. “Six, seven?”
“I count nine on the sensors,” Soo-jin said.
Ethan slipped into the co-pilot’s seat, gripping the edge as he leaned forward to squint at the screen.
The Nemina’s call tone continued.
“We definitely have fuel enough for Enlil, right?” Marc asked after a minute. “If we need to—”
The screen flashed as the call connected. Suddenly, they were looking up at the grainy image of a greasy-looking man, his face lit up by the glow of his own screen. He didn’t look happy to see them.
“Caishen station.”
Karin sat up. “Hi, we were looking to dock for a time. I’ve got our license right here, ready to ping.”
“Of course you do, sweetheart,” he said. “But I don’t care about that.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“We have money,” Marc said bluntly. “We aim to spend it.”
“Wonderful. What color are your eyes?”
“Not black.”
“Everyone�
��s?” He squinted closer to the screen, then jabbed a finger. “What about the other chick? Hers look dark.”
“Suns,” Soo-jin said. “I’m Asian. Of course they look dark.”
“Get closer to the camera. Prove it.”
Soo-jin rolled her eyes, then stood and bumped her way past Marc. She pulled her eyelids down, made a Halloween face at the dashboard cam, then flipped it off with her hand as she walked away.
The man chuckled as he left. “Perfect! All I needed to see.”
“Great,” Marc said. “Where can we park?”
“I’m authorizing Dock Nine for you.” He tapped a few keys, then looked back up at the camera. “I assume you know what’s been happening? With the Shadows?”
“We’ve been attacked, too. Killed ’em.”
“You’re one of the lucky ones. We lost half our staff the first night. It just went downhill from there.”
“Any word from the Core? Alliance?”
“Not yet. They don’t look our way much. Now, you’ll have to submit for an inspection once you’re locked. That all right?”
“We just got back from a job,” Marc said. “Got some unidentified firearms that might flag an inspection scan.”
“So long as they don’t have black eyes, I don’t care what you’re carrying. Hopper will meet you at the lock, show you what’s going on. See you soon.”
The transmission cut.
Karin, Marc, and Soo-jin all exchanged looks.
Soo-jin closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “Well, this sounds like fun.”
“I told you it’d be exciting.” Marc straightened, stretching out his back. “I’ll go make sure those guns are secure. Karin, take us in?”
“You got it.” She leaned forward and summoned the navigator, typing in a new command. Stations liked this preferred to do the docking procedure themselves rather than trust pilots. All she had to do was monitor its progress.
Only Ethan stayed on the bridge with her. He kept silent as she worked, watching.
Then, after a few minutes, he spoke. “They aren’t going to send anyone for the Ozark, are they?”
“They aren’t a rescue station, but they will pass on the emergency.” She glanced over, meeting his eyes. “Protocol dictates they do.”
