by Yoon Ha Lee
“None of them survived, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Haneul said. Her eyes softened as she regarded me. “This has been bothering you for a while, hasn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said, which was close enough to the truth. At the least, it was bothering Jang—the real Jang. “These pirates looking for the Dragon Pearl . . . are they all working together?”
“Oh, there’s no chance of that,” Sujin said. “If the pirates joined forces, they’d be a real threat. But it’s impossible for individual merc captains to trust each other. They’d rather sell each other out for a quick profit. That’s what our officers always say, anyway.”
“Why were they foolish enough to attack that freighter,” I asked, “when they knew we were in the area?”
Haneul stirred her gruel, thinking. “They might have thought its captain was another pirate with new information about the Pearl.”
Byung-Ho, a pirate? Just in time, I stopped myself from saying that out loud. I didn’t think he had it in him.
But then I remembered something: All those crates that had been stacked in the hold. Were those smuggled items? Could one of them have contained the Pearl? He hadn’t wanted me to see them. . . .
Sujin and Haneul were staring at me, because I’d been quiet for too long. “Yeah. They must be desperate for leads,” I offered.
“I’ll say.” Haneul glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Hey, we’d better clean up if we’re going to make it to class on time.”
That day’s lessons were on engineering. Afterward, Hyosu took me aside. My friends shot me worried glances as they left me behind.
The lieutenant peered down at me over her glasses. I tensed, thinking I was about to get lectured, but instead she said, “You’ve been studying hard, haven’t you?”
“Y-yes, ma’am,” I stammered. What was I going to say, no?
Hyosu beamed at me. “Well, keep it up. You’re doing much better than the last time we discussed the subject.”
So engineering hadn’t been Jang’s strong suit. I wondered what he had been good at. It really didn’t matter anymore, though. I had to get by with my own strengths and weaknesses now.
I thanked her and made my way toward the mess hall, where I had KP duty. I took one of the less frequented corridors. “Jang,” I called softly. “You around?”
He appeared, his hair even longer and more disheveled than the last time I’d seen it. Maybe it was my imagination, but the unnatural breeze that usually accompanied him didn’t feel as cold as usual.
“I overheard your conversation with Haneul and Sujin,” he said.
I blinked. “You were there? I didn’t notice.”
“It’s easy for me to hide my presence around Haneul, especially when she’s upset,” Jang said, sounding wistful. “No one notices a ghost-wind when she’s accidentally summoning a miniature storm in the same room.”
“So you heard that the people who killed you are dead,” I said, hoping that would satisfy him.
“Yes, that was a very interesting detail.”
Wasn’t that enough? I wondered. His eyes still looked . . . well, haunted.
I had an idea. “Would you prefer to speak to Sujin and Haneul yourself?” I asked gently. “We could explain the situation—that I’m pretending to be you. Hopefully they’d understand.” Truthfully, I didn’t want to do it. I felt I had to make the offer, though, because of his pitiful expression.
Jang was already shaking his head. “No,” he said, “it’s better not to complicate things.” He looked away for a moment. “If they found out I’m dead, they’d be obliged to report you. And they might try to exorcise me so I don’t bring bad luck to the ship. Then I’d really be gone. I’m not ready for that quite yet.”
“I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine,” I said.
Jang smiled thinly. “Fair enough.”
“Sorry I’m not living up to your reputation as a slacker,” I teased gently, thinking back to Lieutenant Hyosu’s compliment.
“That’s the one nice thing about this arrangement,” Jang said. “Not having to study anymore.”
I stuck out my tongue—his tongue, which must have been weird for him to see.
Jang started to fade away. “You have KP duty next, don’t you? You should get going.”
I wondered when I would see him again. It was unnerving to know he could eavesdrop on me without my knowledge.
After the first week, I was starting to take to life as a cadet. It felt almost like I wasn’t pretending anymore. I was getting better at following the complicated military regulations. Saluting whenever an officer showed up had become second nature. My posture was the best it had been in my entire life, which would have made Mom proud. It even impressed me. Considering how much of my life I’d spent scrubbing things, I’d thought I would always be hunched over.
It took me by surprise the first time I was excused from toilet-cleaning duty. One night Lieutenant Ju-Won regarded me sourly and said, “Your comportment is adequate, Cadet. See that it stays that way.”
I didn’t expect my good luck to last, though. As much as I was enjoying my taste of life in the Space Forces, training to be a soldier wasn’t my true purpose. I was there to find my brother.
The next morning, I woke early by force of habit. Truth is, I hadn’t exactly gotten many opportunities to sleep in when I lived at home, either.
I padded quietly past the other bunks. Haneul was snoring the loudest, as usual. Good thing I could sleep through anything after growing up with my cousin Bora’s snorting and snuffling. Sujin lay curled up on their side, their horned brow slightly creased. I wondered what kinds of dreams they were having. In mine I sometimes saw Nari and my mom sitting side by side, eating sesame cookies and chatting. They looked almost like real sisters, Nari with her sly eyes, and my mother smiling more easily than I’d ever seen before.
I’d left all that behind on Jinju, though. Until I found Jun, I couldn’t go back.
My feet took me to Bunk 2. The door opened for me readily enough. The first thing I heard was several people snoring, one of them even louder than Haneul at her worst. They didn’t smell like a dragon, though.
I looked around, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. Then I walked softly around the room. My nose picked up the smells of soap, sweat, synthetic fabrics, plastic, and metal. I couldn’t detect any trace of Jun, and my heart sank, even though I’d anticipated that would be the case.
They wouldn’t have left Jun’s personal effects here. My best guess was that they were locked up somewhere as part of the investigation into his desertion. How could I get access to them?
I hadn’t learned anything useful by sneaking in there. I retreated back into the corridor . . . and almost collided with a sergeant.
I bit down on a yelp. Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough presence of mind to nudge her with Charm to dampen her suspicion.
“You’re up awfully early, Cadet,” the sergeant said, eyeing me with distrust.
I scrambled for an excuse that wouldn’t stick in her head. “I was having trouble meditating because of all the snoring,” I said. “So I went for a walk.”
The sergeant harrumphed. “Well, you shouldn’t be wandering around like this. I’m going to have to put you on report.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” I said, swallowing a groan.
“In the meantime, you should catch up on sleep,” the sergeant said. “Go.”
I hurried off, wondering what my punishment would be. So much for avoiding toilet scrubbing.
My punishment turned out to be something else. After breakfast mess, Lieutenant Ju-Won informed me that I was to report to Hydroponics with Haneul and Sujin. “You can help with inspection,” she said.
“Inspection?” I asked before I could stop myself.
The lieutenant shook her head. “What’s the matter? You don’t remember how to perform that duty? Well, the other cadets can remind you.”
I wasn’t sure what inspection meant. Hopefully it would b
e like gardening in our dome back home. At least it doesn’t involve toilets, I thought, but I kept that to myself.
By pretending I was prepping her for a quiz, I got Haneul to explain the setup to me. The ship’s hydroponics facility grew food to supplement our rations. Hydroponics on a ship the size of the Pale Lightning was something of a misnomer. Not only did it include vast, brightly lit gardens where vegetables were fed nutrient-rich water, it also contained gruesome vats where slabs of cultured meat grew. A separate section contained saltwater tanks, in which unshelled abalone meat clung to the walls.
My task, once Haneul had oriented me, was to go through the gardens’ rows and check for signs of mold or rotted roots. The computers were supposed to monitor the plants, but they weren’t foolproof, and no one wanted to take chances when it came to our food supply.
Another ensign entered my row and started working alongside me. I smiled cautiously at him. He was broadly built, and I recognized him as one of the sleeping cadets from Bunk 2. Once upon a time, he had bunked with my brother.
“Sorry this is taking me so long,” I said. “I haven’t done this in a while.”
“Not a problem,” he said. “I thought you could use a hand.”
My spirits lifted. “I’m Jang,” I said. If this charade went on much longer, I wouldn’t remember my real name.
He bowed formally. “I’m Woo-Jin,” he said. Then he let out a laugh. “You thought I wouldn’t remember you? We humans have to stick together.” His smile took the sting out of the words, and I reminded myself that I had to act like I was, in fact, human. “We may outnumber the supernaturals,” he said, “but I’ve always suspected that the captain treats them better, because he’s one, too.”
Woo-Jin double-checked some of my work and turned up a couple rows where I’d missed some rot. I flushed at the mistakes. Even though I was an imposter, I was determined to do well.
I glanced around. Haneul had her hands pressed up against one of the saltwater tanks and was frowning in intense concentration, blessing the water so the abalone would stay healthy. Sujin was busy checking the ratios of chemicals in the nutrient mix.
Woo-Jin caught my look. “Do you ever wish you could do things like that?”
“What, chemistry?” I said. “That’s Sujin’s specialty.” I didn’t have any crushing desire to spend my free time reading chem textbooks.
“Yes, goblins have a better intuition for that stuff,” Woo-Jin said.
“Humans make better shamans and scholars,” I said, repeating what I’d heard from the holonet.
He grinned at me. “Yeah, except here we are, being neither shamans nor scholars.”
That wasn’t entirely true. We may not have been surrounded by books and scrolls on the Pale Lightning, but all the cadets—humans and supernaturals alike—did have to study hard. We needed to understand the basics of the geomantic arts—the flow of gi and the cosmic balance of the universe—and engineering to keep the ship running. I couldn’t help feeling a little proud that even though I was a “lowly fox” and two years younger than everyone else, I was keeping up. For the most part.
With Woo-Jin’s help, I finished early. I looked around again. Haneul had moved on to the next water tank, and Sujin was preoccupied with some adjustments to the nutrient mix. No one was paying attention to us.
“Hey,” I said to Woo-Jin, leaning on Charm, “was it weird in Bunk Two after that boy deserted with the rest of the team?”
Woo-Jin frowned. “I wish I knew what really happened. I already told the captain everything I know.”
So Hwan had done the questioning personally. That wasn’t surprising. It was inconvenient, though. I already knew that I needed to ask the captain some questions. But how was I going to do that?
“Everyone was on edge for a while,” Woo-Jin was saying. “I thought things were settling down, but . . .” He bit his lip. “I could almost swear that the captain’s covering for—”
“You two done over there?” the warrant officer yelled at us.
I bit off a curse. “Yes, Officer.” Was Woo-Jin suggesting that the captain was involved in the team’s disappearance? Why would he—?
“Well,” the warrant officer said, interrupting my musing, “see if you can help Cadet Haneul.”
The dragon was tugging a stray lock of hair in frustration. “This isn’t working the way it’s supposed to,” she muttered when I reached her.
“What isn’t working?” I asked.
“The ship’s gi is concentrated at this point to help the plants grow,” Haneul said, “just like there is a focal point at Medical to encourage people to heal more quickly. I’ve heard some engineers say that the energy flows have been shaky ever since we rescued the Red Azalea.”
Oh no. That couldn’t be because Jang was still lurking on the ship, could it? For all I knew, he was watching us now, maybe out of longing to be near the friends he’d had in life.
“Do they have any idea what’s causing it?” I asked. That ought to be a safe question.
“They’ve been working on rebalancing the flow,” Haneul said, “but Engineering told me that someone hacked one of the key meridians. The ship’s been cranky ever since.”
“Which meridian?”
“The one that runs through Deck Three.” Haneul frowned at the water tank as if she could fix everything by staring the hapless abalone into submission. “We’re hoping the bad luck doesn’t spread to Medical—it’s on the same level.”
I was starting to hatch an idea. When I needed to leave this ship—and it would be when, not if—a little careful sabotage might buy me some time to escape. Guilt washed over me, because I’d gotten to like the rest of the crew, and it would cause them trouble. But once I figured out who was behind the mercenaries who had killed Jang, and where Jun had gone, I wouldn’t have any reason to linger.
At the end of our shift, the warrant officer hemmed and hawed before declaring that we’d have to return during the next day-cycle. “You’re getting faster, Cadet Jang,” he said to me. “But you need to be more careful in your inspections.”
I swallowed. “Yes, Officer.”
After mess that day, I claimed to have a stomachache and begged off watching a fencing match. Sujin looked disappointed, but only said, “I hope you feel better soon. Are you sure it’s not because you’re still hungry?”
“Leave him be,” Haneul said. “And don’t give him shrimp crackers—they never help stomachaches. He’s probably suffering from one of the ‘experiments’ you conducted while on KP duty.”
While they argued over that, I slipped away.
I headed toward Deck 3. I wanted to examine the damaged meridian for myself. I didn’t have much experience with energy flows, and I was curious to feel one up close.
According to the old lore, energy flows could bring whole civilizations to ruin or grant good fortune. Just like you could have flows of good or bad luck in a room, depending on how furniture and ornaments were arranged, there could be flows of good or bad luck across star systems and beyond. The Thousand Worlds hadn’t yet gotten to the point where we could rearrange the stars for our own benefit, but I’d heard that some of the more ambitious dragon masters dreamed of making that happen.
I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I took a wrong turn and had to retrace my steps. Don’t walk too quickly, I reminded myself. Act like you belong here.
I passed several soldiers and technicians on the way. By now, I had perfected the worried, borderline sullen look of someone trying to get his job done before having three more assigned to him. I no longer minded getting extra chores, though. When people gave you work to do, you stopped being a person and became a part of the scenery. Sometimes that was convenient.
A guard stood watch at either end of the corridor that contained the damaged meridian. The nearest sentry started to frown at me. I pushed some Charm in his direction to convince him I belonged here. He blinked watery eyes, then muttered to himself and looked away. I let out a breath
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and hurried past. I threw Charm at the guard on the far end, too, to make him too drowsy to notice me.
In class, Lieutenant Hyosu had shown us a diagram depicting meridians as glowing lines flowing through the ship. In reality, meridians didn’t glow. But as soon as I entered the corridor, I felt a prickling on my skin, and I saw a flickering in the air, like the shimmer of a heat haze. That much was normal. What wasn’t normal was the way my eyes stung, or the way the air chilled my skin. A healthy meridian shouldn’t cause pain, or feel like a ghost-wind.
One of the floor tiles was warped. I tripped on it and went sprawling. Despite all the drilling exercises I’d done with the other cadets over these past few weeks, I still hadn’t gotten used to my higher center of mass, or my heavier body. I yelped as I rolled to soften my fall. I ended up bruising my elbows and hip anyway.
Oh. Of course. The fall wasn’t due only to my newfound clumsiness. The flow of bad luck had affected me. I started to appreciate why fixing meridians was so important, and why the repairs required a delicate touch.
Unfortunately, this also meant the bad luck would persist as long as Jang’s ghost did. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Would our luck worsen over time if his ghost wasn’t laid to rest? How would it impact the ship’s mission, or my own?
Helpfully, the repair crew wasn’t around; they must have been on break. The restricted area had been marked off with red tape—red for good fortune, even though the color looked like the bright splash of new blood. I approached slowly, being careful of how I placed my feet. Despite my best efforts, my ankle twisted and I fell across the tape.
I shut my eyes, panting. This close to the broken meridian, I could feel the energy flow like a knot in the pit of my stomach. Now I really did have a bellyache.
I heard footsteps approaching from behind. Getting caught here wouldn’t do me any favors. Wincing in pain, I levered myself up, then glanced around. I saw a supply closet door and didn’t have to think twice. I palmed it open and found emergency suits hanging inside. I shoved myself in among them, trying not to gag at the overwhelming stench of metal and chemicals. Besides the footsteps, I now detected voices, one male and one female. Frantically, I yanked the door shut, grimacing at the noise it made. Had they noticed?