by Yoon Ha Lee
“Are we splitting up or staying together?” I asked. As much as I wanted to be involved in the decision-making, I had to defer to their judgment. I didn’t know their ship’s layout, so they’d have a better idea of how to defend it. Plus, they were mercenaries. They’d had more experience with boarding actions.
Chul, at least, took me seriously. “Ordinarily I’d say we should stick together and prepare to ambush boarders,” he said. “I could be used as bait.”
The engineer rolled her eyes at this.
“But this time we have the advantage of a fox on our side,” he said, raising his eyebrows at me.
“If you’re thinking I can trick them with magic, forget it. They’ll be expecting as much. I revealed my heritage the moment I impersonated Hwan.”
“Do you have any other suggestions?” Chul asked.
I did have one. “Do we have time to set traps for them? Or at least make it look like we did? If they’re led to believe that any random crate or seat could be hiding a vicious attack fox”—the pilot snorted at this—“that might slow them down. . . .”
“Not a bad idea,” the engineer said grudgingly. “Let’s get started, because we don’t know how much time we have before they show up.”
We all put on our helmets. Now we would all communicate via headsets that we could switch on or off. I didn’t like the way it deadened my fox hearing.
“You still willing to help me?” I whispered to Jang with my headset turned off. “I know the Pale Lightning is your former ship, but something’s clearly rotten with the captain. And if my mission ends here, so do your hopes of getting more answers.”
“I know.” Jang sounded torn. “I’ll do what I can as long as no one gets killed.”
I was about to retort that I didn’t want to hurt anyone, either, but then the engineer gestured for me to follow her, so I shut up.
Rearranging crates in the ghastly green light gave me the creeps. I kept expecting ghosts to jump out of the shadows. Which was ridiculous, because I was already accompanied by one. Every time I saw a flicker out of the corner of my eye, I wondered if Jang was about to say something to me.
“Can ghosts see in the dark?” I whispered to him.
“Yes,” he answered softly. With cold air he nudged my left shoulder, then my right. “I can warn you which direction they’re coming from.”
“Thanks,” I said. “That might come in handy.”
We constructed makeshift forts to hide behind, leaving narrow gaps between the crates through which we could spot any hostiles. The thought of my comrades firing on people I’d served alongside made my gut clench.
A jangling sense of wrongness pricked at my nerves. And no wonder. Not only was our ship badly damaged, not only was Jang’s presence bringing us ill fortune, but we were making matters worse by rearranging the crates haphazardly. The gi flows throughout the ship had to be going completely haywire. But it couldn’t be helped. I just hoped we wouldn’t be stung by disaster at the worst moment.
The ship’s clocks were down, but the helmet’s air gauges gave me a way to estimate how much time had passed. Scarcely an hour, though it seemed like much longer. The combination of shadows and weightlessness and the unwavering green glow of the chemical light made me feel as though I’d become unanchored from the outside world. I couldn’t give in to that sensation, though. I had to stay alert.
I felt a faint vibration. I took off my helmet and listened. There was a slight hum in the air. I replaced my helmet, then motioned to Chul to get his attention. “I think they’re coming,” I said in a low voice.
The others didn’t question my sharp hearing. The engineer gave us just enough time to take up our positions behind the floating walls of crates, then snuffed out the chemical lights. Violet afterimages danced and flickered in my vision. I heard myself breathing too fast. My attempts at meditation didn’t help, not when the vibrations were getting stronger.
Finally there came the sound of metal screeching, and a clank that I was sure even the others could hear. Captain Hwan and his crew must have breached our hull.
Sweat dampened my palms and trickled down my back. Part of me wished the boarding party would hurry up already. But I knew from drills on the Pale Lightning that they’d be trained to proceed carefully, checking for ambushes and traps as they went.
Clomp, clomp, clomp. Not just one set of footsteps, but several. I held my breath, trying to figure out how many people were coming. The pilot had crouched down and pressed his helmet to the deck in a vain attempt to hear better, which I only discovered when I bumped into him by mistake. Like all fox spirits, I had good vision in low light, but this was no light. In total darkness I had to rely on other senses. And Jang presumably was saving his warnings for real threats so I wouldn’t accidentally blast one of the mercs.
At last the hatch to the hold opened, and a piercing, blue-tinted beam sliced through the darkness. I squinted so it wouldn’t blind me. The pilot and engineer raised their blasters to the shooting holes we’d made.
I waited for shadows to fall across the threshold, for Jang’s warning touch. If we were really lucky, maybe the boarding party would make the mistake of silhouetting themselves against the blue light, making themselves easy targets. It didn’t look like they were going to commit such a basic error, however.
A familiar voice hissed from the corridor: Captain Hwan’s. I’d been expecting him to shout, or roar, but he spoke so quietly that I had to strain to hear him. The effect caused my skin to prickle.
“Scholar Chul,” Captain Hwan said in his deep voice. “And Gumiho.” I couldn’t help biting my lip when he said that. “In a moment I am going to send in a couple of people to accept your surrender.”
My glance went to the engineer, who was shaking her head dubiously, then to the pilot, whose brow was furrowed in concern. None of us trusted the captain. There had to be some kind of trick involved.
Two figures marched through the entrance, their shadows cutting across the floor. A faint, wavering glow in the air told me that they had personal shields. I didn’t know how much blaster fire it would take to overwhelm the armor. We might have to find out the hard way.
It took me a moment to identify the soldiers. They were backlit, and the light reflecting off the crates’ surfaces didn’t do a very good job of revealing their faces, especially through their helmets. But once I got used to the alien-looking combat suits, I knew exactly who they were. The one on the left was Sujin. The one on the right, Haneul.
“No!” Jang cried in anguish, loudly enough to be heard by everyone.
The mercs glanced about wildly, but I had no attention to spare for them.
Neither Sujin nor Haneul was armed. That didn’t make sense. Unless . . .
“I have learned,” Captain Hwan went on, his voice still soft, “that Cadets Sujin and Haneul failed to recognize the intruder in our midst.”
I couldn’t help it. I sucked in my breath and stared wide-eyed at my friends. Former friends, I assumed, since they now knew that I wasn’t Jang. Was Hwan holding them hostage? He wouldn’t. . . .
He would. “Gumiho, if you and your comrades surrender to the cadets,” Captain Hwan said, “you will be treated fairly. As long as you cooperate with our operations.”
Bile rose in my throat. I had a pretty good idea of what Hwan meant by “cooperation,” at least from me. Surely he’d figured out that I was, if not related to Jun, connected to him somehow.
Chul squared his shoulders. I could tell he was tempted by Hwan’s offer. I couldn’t blame him, to be honest. At the same time, I couldn’t imagine this ending well for any of us.
Instead of capitulating, though, Chul signaled to his two comrades, and they raised their blasters. My heart almost plunged to the deck. But they didn’t fire, not yet.
“If you don’t come with me,” Captain Hwan said, “the cadets will be court-martialed for treason. Right here. Possibly even executed.”
What? This was insane! “You can’t do that!” I shouted.
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Sujin’s expression was stubbornly impassive. Haneul looked stricken, and lightning crackled around her.
Chul squeezed his eyes shut.
“In deep space, a captain’s word is law,” Hwan returned. His voice never wavered from its eerie calm. “I have to be able to rely on my crew. Any real cadet knows that.”
I flinched.
The engineer mouthed, Should we? at Chul.
Chul shook his head and mouthed back, They’re unarmed. It made me think better of him.
“All right,” I said in defeat. I couldn’t let Captain Hwan kill Sujin and Haneul, who had done nothing wrong.
I heard Jang’s sigh of relief.
Chul reached for my shoulder to hold me back, but I slipped past him. “I’m coming out. Don’t shoot.”
I started to speak to Haneul and Sujin, but the dragon only stared stonily at me. Sujin wouldn’t meet my eyes. Hwan didn’t bother putting restraints on me, which made sense. Given my shape-shifting abilities, handcuffs wouldn’t slow me down. Regardless, I didn’t want to get the cadets into even more trouble by slipping out of his grasp.
The march to the breach in the ship’s hull and into one of the Pale Lightning’s sealed airlocks took only minutes, but it felt much longer. I had to put the helmet back on, which frustrated me, because it dulled my senses. I had a little difficulty walking in the magnetic boots, which had a stronger pull than the ones I’d worn on the Pale Lightning, but I wasn’t about to admit that.
“All right,” Jang’s voice said inside my helmet. Although he spoke in a whisper, I jumped. “This is where we part ways. Thank you for leading me to these mercs. I’ll have fun haunting them.”
“Wait—” I started, but I couldn’t feel his cold presence around me anymore. Desolation overcame me. We’d been coconspirators, in a sense, and now he was gone. Since I was no longer borrowing his form, Jang had no reason to stick close to me. While he’d originally been interested in finding out about the specific pirates who’d caused his death, it now appeared that he’d become more generally vengeful toward the whole category. I didn’t envy Chul and his comrades.
Behind me, soldiers were escorting Chul and the other two prisoners. Sorry for siccing a ghost on you, I thought in their direction.
I craned my head but didn’t catch sight of Captain Hwan. I couldn’t use my sense of smell to track him, either. At a guess, he was with the other soldiers, too. My shoulder blades tingled unpleasantly.
The Pale Lightning’s airlock was vaster than the other ship’s. I fought a surge of panic at being surrounded by soldiers. They could easily gun me down. One of the lieutenants gestured sharply at Haneul and Sujin, and they stepped back, leaving me alone in the center.
Captain Hwan strode forward to loom over me. I’d already been sweating, and this didn’t help. It took all my courage not to shrink from his ruthless predator’s glare. I wished for claws and sharp teeth—but I knew that even if my friends’ lives weren’t at stake, there was no way I could best Hwan in a physical fight. If I was going to escape this situation, I’d have to do it another way.
“Captain Hwan,” I said, bowing courteously. I was glad that my voice didn’t quaver—much.
“Your name,” Hwan said. I hated the way his voice sounded even more threatening through his helmet.
“Kim Min,” I said. I didn’t want to be a liar, not right now. Besides, he already knew the most dangerous thing about me—that I was a fox. Best to keep things straightforward.
“Ah,” he said. “The lost cadet’s sister.”
So Jun had mentioned me. For a moment I felt a mixture of outrage, fear, and pride. What had Jun said about me? I doubted the captain would reveal that, though.
“What did you do to my brother?” I said.
“You appear to be misinformed,” Hwan said coolly. Once again I wished I could take off my helmet and find out if he smelled of deception.
“I gave myself up like you told me to,” I said. “You’ll let Haneul and Sujin go?”
“The cadets still have a lot of explaining to do,” he said, “but yes. You have my word.”
Strangely, I believed him.
“Take Min to solitary confinement,” Hwan ordered some soldiers. “Return the mercenaries to their cells in the brig.”
Every one of my nerves screamed at me to flee, change into a spiky metal ball, anything to avoid being locked up like an ordinary animal. Hwan had complete power over me, though. I thought of Sujin refusing to meet my eyes, of Haneul’s stiff back. We might not be friends anymore—if we’d ever been friends to begin with, considering how I’d deceived them—but that didn’t mean they deserved to suffer.
I didn’t think I deserved to be imprisoned, either, but I’d have to deal with that myself.
Four soldiers fell in, two in front of me and two behind. I bowed my head and walked with them. Despite their size, the Pale Lightning’s passageways, which I’d started to think of as a second home, felt like they were about to collapse on me.
I recognized the brig’s cells, but we walked beyond them to a section I hadn’t visited before. We reached a bleak, empty room with a shimmering force shield for a door. That spelled trouble. I could get through bars, but a force shield? No way.
One of my guards punched a code into the keypad. Unfortunately, she shielded her right hand with the other so I couldn’t see the numbers. It figured that they’d stick to security protocol now.
The force shield flickered out. “Take off your suit,” the guard said, “and go in. Don’t try anything funny or we’ll vent air out of this entire section. If you shape-shift, we’ll blast anyone—or anything—that looks suspicious.”
“I won’t,” I said. At least, I wouldn’t right then. Not when they were alert. Later, though . . . later was another story, especially if I could get Sujin and Haneul to come with me. While deserting was a serious crime, I couldn’t imagine that they had much loyalty left for a captain who had threatened to execute them for something they couldn’t have known. Or so I told myself.
As much as I hadn’t enjoyed suiting up, I discovered that peeling it off made me feel even worse. The suit only provided limited protection from blaster fire, and it wouldn’t have been much good against regular bullets, but it was better than nothing. Now, if the guards decided to get rid of me, I wouldn’t have any armor at all.
I held my breath for a second. But no one raised a blaster and roasted me. Good to know. The guard cleared her throat, and I obediently trudged into the cell.
The force shield thrummed back into existence, trapping me inside. “I don’t recommend ramming into it,” the guard said. “It’ll knock you out, and we’ll be happy to leave you that way.”
I almost retorted that she didn’t scare me, then thought better of it. I wanted her to think I was defeated, get her to let down her defenses. I’d take any advantage I could scrounge up. So I only responded with a shaky nod.
My act was in vain. She’d already turned her back, leaving me alone in the cell with a harsh light blazing from the ceiling. I curled up on the combination bench/bunk and settled in for a nap. Maybe ideas for how to escape would come to me after I’d gotten some rest.
Dreams plagued my sleep. In one, Jun and I were standing at the edge of a cliff beneath a sky strewn with white stars. Jun was about to plunge over the edge, and even worse, he wasn’t looking where he was going. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder, gesturing for me to follow. I grabbed for him and—
“Min,” said a voice I had grown to hate. Captain Hwan’s.
I jolted awake and sat up, resisting the urge to rub the grit out of my eyes. Then I clambered to my feet. My knees felt rubbery, and it was difficult not to sway. But Hwan, standing just beyond the force-field door, was already a lot taller than I was. I didn’t like having him tower over me.
His shadow fell before him, as sharp as a sword. I had to resist the temptation to tuck in my feet so they wouldn’t be cut by its edge. There was something of the tiger in that s
hadow, and I could smell his confidence.
“Min,” he said, “let’s talk.”
I was suddenly glad I’d never heard any lore about tiger folk using people’s names against them. But I eyed the blaster holstered at his belt and shivered. “Talk about what?”
“Show me your true form,” Hwan said.
I held my hands out before me and said, “This is my true form.”
He frowned slightly. “That’s the shape you wear when you go among humans, yes,” he said. “But you are a fox, not a human.”
Well, if he was going to be that way about it . . . “Fine,” I said. A shiver went down my back. I hadn’t taken on fox shape for years, because Mom disapproved of it so much. But I wasn’t ashamed of it.
I closed my eyes, telling myself that if Hwan wanted to shoot me, he would have done it by now. Besides, he’d have to turn off the force shield before he could zap me, and he hadn’t, because that might give me a chance to escape.
Magic swirled around me as my bones changed and my flesh condensed into a fur-covered shape I immediately felt at home in, even if I rarely used it. Smells became sharper, the cold of the deck beneath my paws more acute. I sat back on my haunches and twitched my whiskers as I looked up at the captain.
As odd as it was being a fox on a starship, it couldn’t be any odder than being a dragon or a dokkaebi or, well, a tiger. I refused to grovel on my belly. He might be a predator among predators, but I came from a long line of foxes. He hadn’t defeated me yet.
I paced in a circle to show off my fine red pelt and white-tipped tail, then reared up and returned to my human shape. “All right,” I said, “now you have proof that I’m a gumiho. What are you going to do about it?”
“I could use your assistance,” he said quietly, even though no one else was in sight. “I know where the Dragon Pearl is hidden, but the ghosts of the Fourth Colony guard their treasure ferociously.”
Either he didn’t realize I’d broken into his quarters, or he was hoping to trick me into thinking he didn’t know. I knew better than to give myself away, however. “What does that have to do with me?” I asked, playing along.