by Yoon Ha Lee
“Stay steady,” Byung-Ho said. “All that matters now is taking them out and hoping that friends arrive soon.”
He didn’t have to tell me that the situation looked dire. On the other hand, I wasn’t going to let my quest end here, not if I could help it. My palms started to sweat, and I shifted my grip on the blaster.
The mercs were eerily quiet. In the holo shows, boarding parties always yelled threats or fired randomly ahead of themselves. I hadn’t expected this total silence.
That didn’t last long. The smell of ash and sparks and scorched metal caused me to wrinkle my nose, and I peeked out from behind my seat. I heard a thump, then stared in fascinated horror as the mercs started torching their way through the hatch. A cutout panel fell forward with a clang, showering white-hot sparks.
I spotted a flicker, a shadow edging into the Red Azalea’s kitchen. Without thinking, I brought up the muzzle of the blaster and squeezed the trigger. The blast shot out, a straight line of fiery red. Someone with a deep voice snapped orders in jargon I didn’t understand.
The shadow pulled back. Byung-Ho grabbed my arm and dragged me down behind the copilot’s seat. Great timing: A bolt sizzled over me, where my head had been just a second earlier. My heart jumped up into my mouth as I realized how close I’d come to being barbecued.
While I could shape-shift into an inanimate object to fool the mercenaries into thinking Byung-Ho was alone, I didn’t want to abandon him mid-combat. It would only delay the inevitable anyway. Being stuck in the shape of a crate or wrench wouldn’t get me where I needed to go.
Two more bolts flew over my head. I peeked around the side of the seat and fired once at the first shadowy figure I saw. I heard a yelp. Five more people joined the first. Hastily, I withdrew behind cover again before the hostiles could roast me.
Byung-Ho’s rifle bolts crackled down the length of the Red Azalea, throwing up sparks whenever they hit home. He was trying to force the intruders back. There were more of them than there were of us, though, and we were pinned in the cockpit.
Still quiet, the mercs advanced. I wished they would yell curses or threats, mock us, anything. In their sleek jointed suits, they scarcely looked human. One of them darted out and flung a small spiky canister at us: a stun grenade.
Byung-Ho yelled, “Duck!” He shoved me to the side. I hit a wall and yelped as all the breath was knocked out of my lungs.
Seconds later, the grenade went off. The flash blinded me, but I remained standing. I fired wildly, again and again, as I heard Byung-Ho’s bubbling scream.
This is it, I thought. I’m going to die in the middle of nowhere and Mom will never find out what happened to me.
I heard a noise. I aimed at the source of the sound and fired, only to hear the blaster give a discouraging whine. It had run out of power.
Still, I’d hit someone. I heard a curse followed by a dark chuckle. I’m done for, I thought, and then I slid out of consciousness.
I woke in an unfamiliar, well-lit room. I smelled antiseptic and herbs: a medical bay. Someone had transferred me off the Red Azalea and placed me on a cot. I shoved off the blanket and sat up, then winced as all my muscles protested. My skin itched as though I’d gotten sunburned all over. And then I remembered the grenade. Oh no, what had happened to Byung-Ho?
“You’re not dead,” a hollow voice remarked.
I almost leaped out of my skin. I hadn’t realized there was someone standing next to my bed. It was a boy, maybe fifteen years old, in the dark blue uniform of a Space Forces cadet. His name tag said bae jang. Three things about him were off, though. He had no smell, for one. Also, his face flickered as though it were a kaleidoscope of shadows. Finally—the real clue—his hair hung in long, disheveled strands around his face.
My injuries might have affected my sense of smell. The shadows might have been a trick of the light. The hair, though—no one in the Space Forces would have hair that long.
Not unless they were a ghost. In the tales, they always had hair like that.
I scooted back on the pallet, heart thumping in my chest. I remembered the stories my aunties had told me. Ghosts weren’t necessarily unfriendly, but many of them became vengeful over time, especially if the unfinished business that bound them to the world of the living went unresolved for a long period.
“What do you want?” I asked in a low voice, wary. Curtains shielded the rest of the medical bay from my view, but I could hear doctors and nurses speaking authoritatively.
“It was such a stupid way to die . . .” Jang said, almost as if he hadn’t heard me. “I got winged by a merc just as my personal shield failed. No one had seen him hiding.” He smiled sardonically. “Faulty equipment, just my luck.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, still cautious. Would fox magic work on a ghost? Shamans exorcised ghosts as part of their job, but I didn’t have their powers. And I wasn’t sure if trying to Charm Jang would only make him mad. On the other hand, since he had appeared to me, I assumed he wanted to make a bargain. I remembered that much from my aunties’ lore. “Do you need something from me?”
His smile twisted. “We were saving you and your friend when I got injured. The physician tried his best, but I died just half an hour ago.”
My heart fluttered. “We didn’t mean to get you killed.” But we wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for me, I thought guiltily.
“You owe me,” Jang said. “The mercenaries are all dead, but my training cruise is over.”
I thought fast. “What ship are we on?”
“The Pale Lightning,” he said.
The Pale Lightning! What were the odds that I would end up on Jun’s ship?
But how had I gotten here? Jang and the rest of his team had boarded the Red Azalea after the mercs, I guessed. I didn’t remember that at all. I had passed out by then.
I had to take advantage of this stroke of luck. “We can help each other. I need a reason to stay on this ship”—no need to go into detail, as I doubted a ghost would care—“and I can do that if I pose as you. I can continue your training cruise for you.”
Jang’s eyebrows shot up. “How are you going to manage that?”
I cast my eyes down. “I’m a fox.” It felt odd admitting it to a stranger.
“Huh,” he said after a moment, looking thoughtful. “Never heard of a fox in the Space Forces, but why not?”
Interesting reaction. Maybe ghosts were more open-minded than the living.
“There are a few supernaturals on this ship,” Jang added. “The captain tolerates them. But most of the crew is human.”
If Jang had never heard of a fox cadet, then Jun must have kept his true nature hidden from everyone. That figured—he’d always been the more obedient of the two of us. While the captain was open to some kinds of supernatural cadets, I bet that he, like most folks, didn’t trust fox spirits.
“It is true that your kind can shape-shift?” Jang asked.
I demonstrated by growing my hair, then returning it to its original length. He grinned appreciatively.
“I really am sorry about what happened to you,” I added, biting my lip. I’d never dreamed that by hitching a ride on the Red Azalea I would cause someone’s death.
“It was over quickly,” he said without emotion. “The mercs are really the ones to blame.” Then: “I accept your proposal. You can be me. And while you’re at it, you can find out more about the mercenaries who killed me.”
“It’s a deal,” I said, wondering if I was being reckless.
“Swear it on the bones of your ancestors,” Jang said.
I gulped. That wasn’t an oath I could wriggle my way out of. Also, I worried that taking on this detective work would distract me from my real quest of finding Jun. But I needed Jang’s help. “I swear on the bones of my ancestors,” I said, and shivered.
“All right,” Jang said, apparently satisfied.
“By the way,” I started, “did you know a cadet named—?”
“Someone is approa
ching,” Jang said, cutting me off. “You’d better be convincing.” With that, he faded out, leaving a wintry chill in the air.
I heard footsteps. Focusing on my memory of how Jang looked, I shifted into his shape. The face involved some guesswork, because the shadows had obscured some of the angles, but at least I had a pretty good idea of what a regulation haircut looked like from news clips of Space Forces soldiers in parades.
Before I had time to lie back down on the pallet, a curtain drew aside to reveal a tall woman in a slightly more elaborate version of the uniform Jang had worn, carrying a battered slate and stylus. She had short-cropped hair streaked with white and the demeanor of a bemused crane. From her round gold lapel pin with the symbol for longevity, I guessed she was the ship’s physician. I hit her with a dose of Charm to muddle her wits so I could convince her that Jang had survived and “Bora” hadn’t.
“Water?” I croaked, figuring that was safe. My new lower voice sounded odd in my ears, but I would just have to get used to it.
“Not until I’ve checked you over, Cadet,” the woman said. Her brow furrowed as she looked at my face, and I threw more Charm at her. She shook her head and pushed me down onto the cot. Her fingers traced lines in the air above me. I didn’t know much beyond first aid, but my late grandmother used to talk about the meridians, the body’s lines of energy, from which you could diagnose injuries and illnesses. Just as veins and arteries carried blood throughout the body, the meridians carried life force. Any damage to the mind or body would be reflected in its flow.
I stared up at her, trying not to show how intimidated I felt. As a doctor, she knew the human body inside and out, and there I was, a fox impersonating a human of the opposite sex.
“Good thing my shield took the worst of the hit,” I said so the physician had a plausible story for my survival. “By the way, what happened to the pilot of that freighter?” I asked, recalling Byung-Ho’s last scream.
“Him? He’s still in one of the healing pods,” she said, “but he’ll make it.”
I breathed easier and pushed with Charm again. “Too bad the girl didn’t.” I’d never used this much magic on a single person before. I’d expected it to be harder. My body ached, but that was from the grenade blast.
How much pain was Byung-Ho in? I wondered. He’d taken that grenade for me.
“Can I see the pilot?” I asked the physician before I’d thought the matter through. There was no reason Jang would have made such a request.
The doctor clucked. “You won’t do him any good. He’s in a medi-coma.” She traced another meridian. “But you’re in satisfactory condition. As soon as I fill out the forms, you can return to duty.”
While she input some information on the slate, I wondered how I could get a map of the ship. I had no idea where I was supposed to go. Too bad Jang had faded away before giving me tips about how life on a battle cruiser worked. Maybe I’d get a chance to quiz him once I had some privacy. And at some point I wanted to get a real uniform to replace my magical one, especially if I was going to be stuck here for any length of time.
The physician was frowning over something on the slate. “I could have sworn . . .”
I looked innocently at her even as I began to sweat. “Yes, Doctor?”
“There’s an error in the database,” she muttered. “It lists the girl on that freighter as having survived.”
I definitely didn’t want that info getting around. I closed my eyes and directed my Charm at her again.
“Poor thing,” she said. “Still, that’s easy enough to fix.” Without any more hesitation, she edited the database.
Whew! Close call.
“All right, Cadet Jang,” the physician said, “off you go.” She strolled over to her next patient.
“Thanks, Doctor,” I said, getting to my feet.
What I didn’t say was Go where, exactly?
It took me a couple of tries to locate the medical bay’s exit. I emerged into a passageway wide enough for four people side by side. Unlike the Red Azalea, this ship’s deck had a slight concave curve to it, so it felt like I was moving along the inner surface of a cylinder. There were hand- and footholds not only on the sides, but also on the floor and the ceiling—in case the artificial gravity went out and magnetic boots weren’t enough, I guessed. The ship could probably be spun all the way around its long axis to simulate gravity.
I picked a direction—there were only two to choose from—and started walking in as military a fashion as I could manage. The ship was full of strange smells. Some I recognized from my brief time aboard the Red Azalea—metal and rust and smoke. Some scents were human. And some had a distinctly supernatural flavor.
The Space Forces accepted the “more respectable” supernatural creatures, such as dragons and celestial maidens—and even tigers, if they could control their violent tempers—as long as they confined themselves to human form. Dragons, in particular, were enormous in their true manifestations. It was easier to design starships for human shapes and sizes and have everyone else adapt.
I had just enough time to wonder how to trace Jun’s trail, when a nearby door whooshed open. Another cadet barreled out of it and crashed into me. I emitted a strangled yell when the person’s knee accidentally connected with my crotch. I was going to have to be more careful about guarding that part of my body! Assuming the shape of a boy might not be any weirder than turning into a table or a teacup, but I had to remember that it didn’t make me immune to pain.
The other cadet’s eyes went wide. “Jang!” The person’s name tag told me they were called Sujin and that I should address them as gender-neutral. I recognized them immediately as a dokkaebi, one of the goblin folk. While I’d never met one before, the small horn protruding from the middle of their forehead was a dead giveaway. Otherwise they had a smooth tawny human face, with black hair and brown eyes, like those of most citizens. Goblins were known for their strength, magical wands, and invisibility caps. I couldn’t help peeking around Sujin for a glimpse of their hat, but I didn’t spot it. Which made sense.
“Wait, what?” A second cadet emerged from the same doorway. She was taller than the dokkaebi, and she, too, was a supernatural. The name on her badge was haneul, which would be easy to remember. It meant sky. Even if it hadn’t been for her blue-tinted hair, which was pinned up severely, I would have smelled the sea on her. She had to be a dragon. They had an affinity for air and water. “Jang, I didn’t think you’d be up and about so soon!”
When I’d hastily adopted my disguise, I hadn’t taken the other cadets into account. At least some of them would know Jang—they were all training together to be officers, after all. Yikes! What if they asked me questions only he could answer? I’d talked with his ghost for just a few minutes, so impersonating him convincingly would be difficult. But it was too late to back out. For now, I’d have to rely on magic to get me through. Later I could try to find Jang and grill him. In the meantime, maybe these cadets knew something about Jun. . . .
“It’s me all right,” I said. “I have a headache, but otherwise I’m fine.” The headache might help excuse any gaffes I made. Cautiously, I nudged both of them with Charm. If they detected that I was a fox and ratted me out, I’d be toast. My powers should keep them from realizing I was another supernatural, but I would have to be careful. I’d never had the opportunity to test Charm on a goblin or dragon before.
My stomach chose that moment to growl. I hadn’t eaten in a long time, and using Charm so much was making me hungrier than usual.
“I’m so glad you’re not as badly hurt as we thought,” Sujin said.
“Yeah, I was knocked out for a while there,” I said. “I only just woke up. You’re the first people I’ve spoken to.”
“Where were you going?” Haneul asked with a frown. “Shouldn’t you report in to Lieutenant Ju-Won?”
Of course. I couldn’t just wander anywhere I liked, not if I was supposed to be a cadet. Perhaps talking to the lieutenant would give me a bet
ter idea of how to fit in while I figured out how to continue my investigations.
“Sorry,” I said, feeling stupid—as well as a little faint. While the doctor had declared me fit for duty, I could tell I wasn’t at full health. “I forgot.”
Sujin looked alarmed at that. “You must really be out of it! Haneul, let’s take him to the lieutenant.”
Haneul studied my face, and her stern expression softened. “Yes,” she said. “You don’t need any more bad luck after what you went through on the Red Azalea. Everyone said it was going to be a routine rescue mission, safe enough even for cadets.”
“Come on,” said Sujin, turning me around. “If we keep the lieutenant waiting, she’ll put us all on report.”
I followed them, trying not to gape at the surroundings. One of the passageways featured a grand engraving of a white tiger with a lightning bolt in its mouth. Along the right-hand side, fine calligraphy declared the ship to be the Space Forces battle cruiser Pale Lightning.
Jun must have passed this way many times. Had he, too, stared in wonder at the engraving? Did he stop noticing it once he’d grown used to being on the ship? The thought made me miss him even more. I had to find his trail—and soon, before my ruse was uncovered.
We passed officers in dark blue uniforms bright with gold braid. I’d have to study the insignia so I’d be able to identify people’s rank on sight. I only knew the cadet emblem that Haneul, Sujin, and I were wearing. For now, I saluted smartly whenever the two of them did.
“There she is,” Sujin whispered as we approached a broad, worried-looking woman.
The lieutenant might have heard that Jang was badly injured. Time for more Charm. I was desperate to get away and scrounge for food—surely even military food couldn’t be worse than what I’d grown up eating—but I had to take care of this first.
Lieutenant Ju-Won was overseeing a group of enlisted spacers pulling bundles of wires from behind a large, dented panel. From time to time she consulted a slate and barked orders. I itched to join them, because I could already tell that one of them was damaging the internals with rough handling, but I bit my tongue just in time.