by Gorman, K.
Soo-jin let her.
Behind them, Marc’s breath caught in his throat.
But Hopper was right. Nothing happened.
After a few seconds, Soo-jin jerked her hand out of reach.
“She went last night,” Hopper said. “A loose Shade found her around the Mess. No one else was around… we were… Well, it doesn’t matter now.”
“You say they can open doors?” Marc indicated the sensor next to the threshold.
“Not locked ones.” Hopper tapped it, bringing up the display. “So I hope, anyway.”
“Netahl said they were attracted to light and children,” Karin said. “Why isn’t she moving?”
“She doesn’t need to. You’re within her trigger point. If you move back, she’ll come forward.” Hopper stepped back, beckoning with a hand. “Come on, try it. She could use the exercise, anyway. I don’t think she moves much while in here.”
Ethan went stiff under her hand for a second, but then relaxed. Perhaps knowing she was looking at him, he gave a subtle nod, then nudged her to step back.
The movement attracted Sharon’s attention. Her head turned, black eyes tracking to Ethan. She watched as they moved back, eyes unblinking.
As soon as they stepped over the threshold, she swayed, leaning forward.
She took her first step.
“Like clockwork,” Hopper said as his wife walked out of the room, her focus on only Ethan. “Don’t worry, she won’t do anything. It’s just an attraction.”
Still, Karin pushed Ethan behind her as they stopped. She stared as Sharon approached, her bare feet quiet on the metal floor. Sharon had several inches on her, and she came close enough that Karin put an arm between them, pressing on Sharon’s shoulder to stop her.
The black eyes, which had been focused on Ethan until now, moved up to meet hers.
There was nothing in them. No pupil, no iris. Not even a trace of a sclera. As if someone had dipped a brush into black ink, painted the entire surface, and left it wet. When she tilted her head, taking a side-step to get a better angle on it, she saw there was still a surface of clear liquid—the cornea?—over on top of the black.
“We call them ‘Dark Ones,’” Hopper said. “The shadow-men are Shades.”
“Someone likes their D&D,” Marc commented.
“That would be Hazel. She’s in with the rest of them in the big room.”
Karin barely heard the rest. Sharon had met her eyes again, and the black fascinated her. Ethan tugged on her arm again, and she squeezed back.
Her light could hurt the Shadows.
What could it do to the ones they’d taken?
*
They left shortly after, off to the station’s supply deck. The second they were out of range, Soo-jin rounded on the group.
“That was creepy as shit,” she said. “Let’s have it not happen to us.”
“We have a small ship. If we don’t sleep at the same time, coming to each other’s help is not a problem.”
Ethan tugged Karin’s arm again. “Are you guys going to leave me here?”
“Hell no.” Soo-jin’s face twisted. “I don’t trust these mothers.”
By the way his eyes widened, Karin had a feeling he knew exactly what word Soo-jin had edited out. She patted his shoulder. “I agree. I don’t think it’s safe for him.”
“It’s too spread of an area to secure properly. Easy to get caught up by strays.” Marc narrowed his eyes, scanning the area. They were back in one of the station’s large, vacuous hallways, the path a slow curve in front of them. Everywhere around them was empty. “I think we need a new rule while we’re out.”
“Buddy system?” Soo-jin suggested.
“Yeah, and when we get back to the Nemina, we do a full sweep—and I mean full.” He frowned. “I don’t care how silly it is to look under beds.”
“Oh, I do not mind looking silly.” Soo-jin flipped her dreads back over her shoulder. She’d let them down at some point, but a quick snap with one of the elastic bands on her wrist pulled the ones in her face back into an updo. “Whatever lets me sleep at night.”
Despite herself, and the situation, Karin let out a breathless chuckle. Soo-jin flashed her a toothy grin, then broadened it when she turned back to Marc. “So, we gonna arm up while we’re here?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “But rations first.”
“And clothes.” Soo-jin looked down at Ethan. “Little boy clothes.”
Chapter 15
The light from the automated vendor slid a pattern across Soo-jin’s face and hair. She screwed up her expression, nose crinkling as she considered the shirt Ethan had jabbed his finger at. “I dunno, kid. I’m not sure it’s really your style. The purple kind of clashes with your skin.”
“It is my style,” Ethan said, emphatic. “I like clash.”
Soo-jin threw up her arms. “Fine. Pick it, then. Don’t take the advice of only the best fashionista on this hunk of floating—”
A button slap, and the soft beep of the machine’s computer, interrupted her. Ethan dropped to his knees at the receiver as the machine whirred to life.
The package plopped right into his outstretched hands.
He straightened, a wild grin on his face as he dusted off the plastic wrapping. “It’s perfect. Do you know how long I’ve wanted a Starcats shirt?”
Soo-jin rolled her eyes. “No, but I’m guessing it was a very long time.”
Karin smiled from up the hall, then turned back to the hovercrate she was packing. The vendor sat, opportunely, right next to the station’s rations store and, although they weren’t scheduled to leave until 8:00 system time, every minute she spent off the ship made her antsy. Probably just a psychological effect from the Caishen’s design. The halls, to her mind, were way too big, far too empty, and definitely too open. Some little part of her lizard brain preferred the small, cramped space of the Nemina.
Or at least, it did now when they were under attack.
She reached over and dragged a second crate over, glancing up at Marc as she did so. On unspoken agreement, they’d decided to load up well beyond what they needed. Who knew what state the rest of the system was in?
She was also glad that ship restocking fell on his credit card, not hers.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen him happy,” he said, looking up from his own crates for a long moment to watch the two. “Good.”
‘Yeah,” she agreed. “Definitely good.”
“Has he mentioned any family to you? Anywhere?”
She shook her head. “I’m getting the feeling his only other relative is like the rest on the Ozark. A stepfather. He talks about him sometimes.”
“That… doesn’t sound promising.”
“Nope.”
“Songbird might take him. I’ve talked to Soo about it.”
Songbird Sanctuary was a retreat on the outskirts of Bau, Enlil’s largest city. Partway up one of the mountains, it operated as a shelter and refuge for those in need.
It was also, she had learned, one of the more personal pictures on Soo-jin’s wall. Karin hadn’t talked to her much about it, but she got the impression that she had family—maybe not blood family, but family, nonetheless—there.
“Lots of time to think about it,” she said. “Probably good to see how things play out first.”
Marc snorted. “More like ‘see how the rest of civilization is dealing with this black-eyed bullshit and decide whether to stay and deal or hightail it to the brightest planet on the map.’”
She smiled. “Well, I wasn’t going to say it, but—” She frowned, pawing through the packets she’d been sorting. “Hey, did you get the beans in yours?”
“Uhh—hang on.” They both bent over their crates. “They’re on the receipt, right?”
She flicked out the screen of her netlink. “Yeah, but I don’t remem—”
A shriek cut her off. She whirled and saw Soo-jin sprinting for her.
“Behind you!”
Karin reacted—too late.
Fingers pressed down on her head, as thick and black as tarantula legs.
A second later, she was flying.
She smashed into the ration store shelving, knocking it back. Packets and bars fell over her as the metal groaned. Her arm went numb.
Crashing sounded around her as things fell. She gasped, floundered, tried to get back up.
The Shadow didn’t give her a chance.
Fingers wrapped around her throat. Pain shot through her back as the Shadow ground her into the metal shelf behind her, then dragged her across the store.
She flailed against it, kicked out. Tears pricked her vision. The ceiling passed over her, lights and tiles moving in a slow turn.
Her own light pulsed under her skin, ready to burst through.
She pulled it back.
I can’t. Not now. Not here.
Another shelf came into sight. She lunged for it.
The Shadow jerked her away. Pressure tightened on her throat. Its fingers dug into cartilage and bumped against the vertebrae at the back of her neck. Black spots dotted her vision as she wheezed.
A blaster shot pulsed once, flashing red-orange light across the front of the store, but she barely heard it. A gray noise filled her ears, like deep water, or cotton fluff.
Then a streak of red-orange slammed into the Shadow’s back.
It let go.
She gasped, sucking in a huge breath. Without looking behind her, she kicked her way onto her side and half-crawled, half-dragged herself around the closest set of shelves.
Two more bolts jolted through the store.
Then came silence.
She pushed herself onto her knees and kept quiet, waiting.
After a few seconds, footsteps tapped the floor on the opposite side of the shelf. “Karin?”
Soo-jin. She breathed a sigh of relief, then peeked around the corner. “Is it gone?”
“Yeah. You okay?”
“I think my arm’s broken.” Most of it was still numb. The parts that weren’t prickled with pain. Her head was a fog of thoughts. Shock, she thought, fighting to connect them. I’m in shock.
When she moved her wrist for a better look, a spike of pain screamed up her nerves.
She hissed. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”
“Good thing we have nano-tech.” Soo-jin popped her head around the corner and gave a low whistle. “You hit that shelf pretty hard.”
“What can I say?” Karin said through gritted teeth. “I just really like those ration cookies. Where’s Ethan?”
“Safe. Marc’s got him. Can you stand?” She offered a hand.
Karin took it. “Standing’s not the problem. It’s more writing and flying that I’m worried about.”
“If you program the route, I’ll take the ship out. Deal?”
“Deal. Now, what—”
A blur of motion cut her off. Ethan, fresh tears in his eyes, almost bowled them over when they got to the main aisle. When he stopped short, Karin realized it was anger, not fear, that rang through him.
“You could have used it,” he shouted, jabbing a finger. “No one had to get hurt.”
Karin swallowed hard and fought to put a mask—any mask—on her face.
It wasn’t hard. The arm was really starting to hurt.
“Use what?” Soo-jin frowned, then glanced over at Karin. “She doesn’t have any weapons.”
Ethan’s mouth twisted into an unhappy downturn. Fortunately, he kept it shut.
A throat cleared as Marc followed Ethan into the store. He was wiping at his face with both hands. When he reached for a set of tissues that had, somehow, managed to stay on the shelf, she saw fresh blood shining on his skin.
“Let’s change that,” he said. “We’ll hit a sani room to clean up, swing past the gun store, and go directly back to the ship. Karin, can you hold off on nano until we get back? We’ll be quick.”
“Yeah,” she said, grimacing. “Give me some of those painkillers and I’ll be good.”
“There’s an aid kit along the way,” he said. “We’ll get you a sling and shots. You won’t feel a thing.”
Chapter 16
Marc was right. She didn’t feel a thing. At all.
If it weren’t for the pressure of the sling around her neck and the bump of her arm against her side and front as she moved, she would have forgotten that it even existed.
By the time they got back to the Nemina, five hovercrates full of supplies dogging along behind them, there was no sign of anyone outside, though a dashboard notification and a quick check of the logs showed that someone had tried to enter. Marc brought up the feed after they did their Shadow sweep, stopping the picture on the time stamp.
One from the inspection teams had returned, alone. His face had a blank, neutral expression as he squinted into the sensor-camera, his thick fingers poking at the interface.
“What’s that all about?” Soo-jin lifted an eyebrow. “Attempted petty larceny?”
“Maybe.”
Her nose crinkled. “I had a guy go through my underwear box on another ship once. Have I ever told you how happy I am that your ship has decent security?”
“Feel free to keep telling me.” He frowned, then entered a command to send the screen capture to his netlink. “I think we’ll share this with Hopper once we’re off station. I don’t like complications.”
“How good is your security?” Karin asked. “I know you’ve warned us about it before…”
“If the door code fails more than ten times, it’ll take my retinal scan to open and operate the ship,” he said.
“We’d best keep your eyes unblacked, then,” Soo-jin remarked.
“You’d best, yes.”
A small tone echoed through the ship. Marc switched feeds, glanced at the live camera feed, and frowned. “Someone else, this time.”
Karin craned her neck to see the screen, ignoring a twinge as the sling adjusted. The man on the camera was slender, with a skin tone that put him on the darker side of Caucasian, his features sharp and distinct. He frowned as she watched, then looked down at the ground and back up the hallway.
“Is that a suitcase?” Soo-jin asked.
Karin squinted. There did seem to be suitcase-shaped box behind him.
“Let’s find out.” Marc pushed back from the chair, then paused. His hand went to his blaster with a frown. After a second’s thought, he pulled it out of its holster and handed it to her. “Here. Just in case.”
Karin jerked as he dropped it in her hand, automatically grabbing it. Its metal felt cold, and its weight, surprisingly heavy, pushed down in her hand.
Soo-jin eyed her as she turned it over, examining its buttons, then rolled her eyes.
“Here.” She held out her hand. “You take care of the kid.”
Ethan blinked up at them as they passed him in the hallway, then made to follow. She stopped him with a silent hand and a finger pressed to her lips.
As she and Soo-jin got to the junction of the airlock, Marc glanced back. After making sure they were in place, he opened the door.
The man outside flinched at the sudden movement, but recovered smoothly.
“Thank Sol,” he said, turning back to them. “I thought I’d imagined you coming back.”
“Who are you?” Marc asked.
“Senton Armalan, at your service.” He held out a hand, but his expression hesitated. “Well, I was actually hoping you could be at my service?”
Karin didn’t even need to see Marc’s face to know that he had lifted an eyebrow.
“How do you mean?”
“I heard you were headed to Enlil. Is that true?”
“Word travels fast.”
“I’d like to go there, too. I have money. I can pay.” His gaze darted around, perhaps noticing Karin and Soo-jin on either side of the junction for the first time. “If room is an issue, I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”
Marc was silent. After a long moment, he shifted.
“As it happens, we do have one cabin available.” He turned his head up the hall, gaze moving first to Soo-jin and then to Karin. “Ladies?”
“I don’t mind,” Soo-jin said.
After a moment, and another glance at Senton, Karin gave a small nod. Ethan came up close behind her, and she reached back, finding his shoulder and bringing him forward. He peeked around the corner.
“You’ll have to adhere to our new sleep schedule, of course,” Marc said. “You understand.”
Relief flooded Senton’s face. He sagged, deflating. “Happily. May I?”
He gestured backward into the hallway—and yes, that was a suitcase he’d brought—and raised his eyebrows in a question.
“Put it in Mess for now,” Marc said. “We have to clear out your cabin first. Might take a few minutes.”
“Just so long as I’m not out here anymore, I’m happy. In fact—” Senton rummaged through one of his pockets and pulled out a netlink. “—give me your ID and I’ll transfer right away. How much?”
Across the junction, Soo-jin caught Karin’s eyes. They exchanged a look.
He had to be either very rich, or very desperate, to agree to a blind price. Anyone else would have asked before now. Or, when cold-calling a ship, would have brought out a price for negotiation.
Marc was silent for a moment.
Then, “Ten thou.”
Soo-jin rolled her eyes, and, out of sight from where Marc and Senton bent over their netlinks, mimed smacking her head.
As far as ship rates went, ten thousand to Enlil was fairly standard—if a bit on the cheap side.
Karin hid a smile, then patted Ethan as she turned. “Come on. Go help clean out this room.”
*
“You wouldn’t happen to know this guy, would you?” Marc leaned over the table, holding the screen of his netlink out for Senton to see. The picture of their attempted intruder wavered in the air.
Senton swallowed a bite of oat-mix and nodded. “Yeah, that’s one of Hopper’s station guys. Doesn’t speak much.”
“So few of them do,” Soo-jin commented, leaning against one of the counters.
Karin sat back at the foot of the table, relaxing and resisting the urge to scratch as the feeling came back into her arm. She’d had the nanos in for about forty minutes and it felt as though they were midway through. It was warm to touch—a degree or two above the rest of her body due to all the activity—and, although the nanos had cut off the pain, pins and prickles itched just beneath her skin.
