by K. Gorman
She registered movement above her. Her gaze snapped up.
Black eyes, the color as dark and encompassing as if the doctor had dipped them in ink, looked down at her. Their stares locked.
Then, before she could do anything else, the lights above them flickered. Then went out.
*
A Shadow crouched over her. Its body curled in an exaggeration of human form, it watched her without moving. Only its edges wavered, undulating between the space where it existed and that where it did not.
The rest of the room slid in and out of focus as she blinked, only a small part of her awake and registering the Shadow. The light on the far wall blurred and shivered, as if it were underwater. A low fear burst in her chest as other small parts of her began to waken. Her body felt stiff, her muscles leaden. She wanted to scream, but didn't. Couldn't. She stared up at the Shadow. It stared back.
Then it stood, walked across the room, and slid through the door as if the metal were nothing more than cotton gauze.
Karin woke up again, this time with a jerk. Her left heel hit the metal wall with a thump. Soo-jin, sitting on the other bunk, looked over with a raised eyebrow. “Bad dream?”
Her gaze snapped to the door. It looked the same as it had only a few seconds ago—but there couldn't have been a Shadow here. Soo-jin would have noticed, and she would not still be sitting on her bed, braiding some of her dreads together.
Besides, Shadows couldn't walk through solid metal.
Actually, they didn't know that. There was still that time she'd been attacked on the Ozark. The other ones had opened doors, not walked through them.
That didn't mean they couldn't.
She shook her head and pushed the thoughts back. “Any news?”
“No one's been back. We got another couple hours, by my count. Might as well make use of them, eh?” Soo-jin tipped her head toward her, indicating the bed.
Blinking the bleariness from her eyes, it took her a few seconds to realize what she was saying.
Sleep. She wants me to go back to sleep.
“What about you?” She frowned. “You haven't slept yet, have you?”
“Not since the Ozark.”
“That's... not good.”
“Yeah, but I still think you need it more.” Her expression softened. When she spoke next, her tone lowered, more serious. “Have you looked at yourself lately?”
She swallowed. No, she hadn't. And she didn't want to start now. She could well imagine what she looked like. Even the all-night study benders she'd done in flight school and uni didn't hold up to the way she felt now. Similarities existed, of course—her eyes had a dry, saw feeling that she recognized, and her head still retained a dizzying lightness to it that sleep hadn't alleviated—but the strained hollowness that carved through her head, throat, and arms was a new unpleasantness. The headache had also returned, pinching a part deeper inside her head than it had before.
“Fuck me,” she said. “I must look like shit.”
“Like a plague victim,” Soo-jin agreed. Then, as an afterthought, a small, sardonic smile tugged across her mouth and she echoed the sentiment. “Fuck us.”
“You think the Alliance will be any better? They got more laws about this sort of thing, don't they?”
“They do. Hopper's probably just keeping you like this 'cause he's worried they might take you away before you're finished here. Like he said, he's got a station to run, and he isn't stupid. Sol knows they need you more on Enlil than Caishen, and you know they'll have to take good care of you if they want you to, you know, stay alive and healthy and keep healing people.” She gave her an appraising look, her eyes flashing an impressed look. “Child, sixteen hours? Seventeen? Nobody can keep going like you were. Even if you're some magical lab baby.”
“I don't think the lab made me much different from the rest of humanity, mystical powers aside.”
“Still have all the normal body parts, then?”
“And no new ones.” She pushed herself into a sitting position and grimaced as the room spun around her. “Shit.”
“Here.” Soo-jin leaned over and tossed a water packet to her. “We've had more room service.”
Her fingers shook as she flipped it over and detached the straw, pushing it through the packaging and then taking a sip. “Thanks.”
It somehow managed to taste like dust. She swallowed it in slow steps, easing it down her throat. Her muscles wouldn't stop shaking. Even the pressure of holding the package seemed to set them off.
“You're a wreck,” Soo-jin observed.
“Is that a professional opinion?”
“A friendly one. You gonna be okay?”
“Well, Hopper's kind of hooped if I'm not, so let's say yes.”
Stifling a yawn, she swallowed down another thimbleful of water and swung her legs out of the covers and over the edge of the bed. The rough plastic floor brushed against her toes.
But, before she had so much as eyed the toilet panel and considered how personal she and Soo-jin were about to get, something banged in the hallway outside. It sounded like a door slamming, except the space station didn't have those kinds of doors. Footsteps stomped up the hallway, almost muted by the sound of Hopper's raised voice cussing someone out.
Soo-jin leaned back on her bunk and raised an eyebrow at the door. “Now what?”
They both jerked at the thump that hit the other side of their door. The door panel flashed green.
A half-second later, Hopper stormed into the room, his face a grimace of wide-eyed anger. “What the fuck do you know about this Fallon ship on my radar?”
“Uhh...” Karin stuttered, frowning. “Is it Marc?”
“Do I look fucking stupid?”
Although she was tempted to answer that, she had a feeling it would be a bad idea.
“We have no idea about Fallon ships,” she said.
“You fly a Fallon scout, and you have no idea about Fallon ships? I find that hard to believe.”
“The Nemina was decommissioned before Marc bought it,” Soo-jin cut in. “The only person who'd know about Fallon ships would be him.”
“Where's it coming from?” Karin asked.
He would have backtracked that the second the ship came on radar. Caishen had that ability.
“None of your fucking business.” His face twisted again, then he leaned over and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up. “Come on. Break's over.”
Soo-jin made to stand. “Hey—she's only had four hours!”
“And she clearly doesn't need more if she's awake.”
Mind whirling, Karin stumbled as he shoved her outside, nearly running into one of his security team. She blinked at the sudden change in lighting, trying to get the rush of static that filled her head to clear from her vision and adjust to the corridor, but he didn't give her time to adjust. His hand found her elbow again, and he dragged her forward.
“Hey! What the fuck? You can't—” The door closed on whatever she had been about to say. As they led her away, she heard the locking mechanism click in place.
It sounded off.
Maybe Hopper had damaged it. That thump had sounded pretty loud before.
Among the crew quarters at the top of the station, the cabin sat next to the recreation and security sectors which housed all the Lost. Her eyes adjusted as they wound down the hallways, recognizing bits and pieces from her last visit to the station. Then, the Lost had been gathered into the station's gravball court, with more than enough to spill them into the surrounding Rec areas, but when Hopper tugged her through a door to the right of one hallway, she found herself in a kind of meeting room. Tables and chairs, fused to the floor in case of zero grav, lined four stepped levels that faced an inactive, wall-length holoscreen at the front of the room.
Lost sat in every chair, already strapped down and waiting.
Her stomach gave a small flip at the sight. How long had they been waiting?
When she didn't move, Hopper gave her a push toward th
e closest one. “Get to work.”
A pinprick of nausea appeared in her gut as she moved forward. She gritted her teeth as the room began to spin again and a dizziness shivered into the front of her brain.
Gods. Soo-jin was right. She was a wreck.
Shaking, she bent down to the first Lost, a man in his early thirties, Caishen security by the worn uniform and square, cookie-cutter build, her hands going to the sides of his head. Another wave of dizziness rolled through her as her light sifted through her skin. It felt like pulling water from a potato. She forced her mind to work through the dizziness. The light coalesced into a pool in her hands, moving with a reluctance and lethargy she hadn't experienced before.
Sol. The next few hours are going to suck.
Squaring her jaw and holding back a queasy breath, she forced the light to sink into the man's eyes and push the Shadow out.
It tripped and skittered, flickered like static, then strengthened.
The Shadow burst out. She reared back. One of Hopper's men knifed it, but not before its scattering darkness fell through her skin. Nausea roared up through her. The hairs on her back lifted in a wave.
Hopper frowned down at her as she stumbled back, sucking in gulps of air.
“Geez, what's wrong with you?”
She didn't answer. Slowly, shaking, she held up her hand and stared at it. The skin looked blotched and veiny, bruised. No flecks of light smeared its surface. They felt like shards of glass in her veins.
Gods.
She moved to the next person. The light shivered out of her fingertips like dust rather than liquid, sparse and faded. As she rested her hands on either side of the Lost's head, her stomach knotted. Heat burned at the back of her throat. She gagged.
Next thing she knew, she'd lurched to the side and thrown up on the floor.
“Sol, what the hell?” Hopper's knees came into view. She sucked in some air and coughed. Holding onto the back of a chair, she tried to lever herself up, but the room spun.
Then, outside in the hall, someone yelled.
Blasters cracked.
Both Hopper and the guard next to her looked up. As the room quieted around her, and she managed to settle the nausea back into her stomach, she heard Hopper speak into a radio.
“Cedar, what's happening?”
A loud, humming crackle came from outside. Someone screamed, only to be cut off as more blasters fired. She looked up just in time to see a ball of electricity rush into the two guards at the door, taking them down.
Her eyes went wide.
Had the spheres followed her?
A ludicrous thought. She'd left them behind on Enlil, and they'd shown no capacity for spaceflight. Even if they could float their way through the atmosphere and over to the next planet, the distance was huge—and they'd managed to outrun them at a light jog.
Someone must have brought them.
“Cedar! Answer me!”
Silence.
Hopper and the guard exchanged a long, quiet look. Without a word, they both withdrew their blasters and started for the door.
She propped herself up on the chair. Taking slow, calming breaths, she stared at the door, attention fixed on the outside.
A shadow moved across the threshold. A second later, two metal balls floated inside and paused, turning to survey the room.
Oh, Clio. The breath left her. She went rigid.
“What the fuck is that?” Hopper frowned toward the ball.
A crackle of electricity sounded as the ball turned toward the first of the Lost, the man she'd just healed. Her eyes went wide as the charge built at its front.
Hopper and his guard must have realized something, because they both jumped forward. “Hey!”
The charge shot forward. The man, who had been unconscious, screamed and jerked, twitching in his chair.
Hopper's frown vanished. “Holy fuck.”
Blasters cracked, but, as she'd seen before, the shots winged off the ball's metal surface. The second one hummed with energy. Her eyes widened as both balls turned toward Hopper and his man.
She ducked under the table, slid between the chairs and the legs of the Lost, and squirmed down toward the next level. A savage string of swears cut off with a bright flash. Above her, the tabletop shuddered. Two sets of legs landed on the other side as Hopper and his man finished their jump.
Holding her breath, she watched their legs. Listening for sound above the blaster shots, and trying to ignore the staccato flashes of light around her, she strained to hear the balls.
It turned out she didn't need to. The second the balls began to build a charge again, Hopper and his man leapt over the next desk. Their legs reappeared on the next level, visible under the desks.
Both balls floated into sight, making for the two men.
She stared at them, to Hopper, and then, at last, to the lights shining from the ceiling above them. Her own light ached within her, but she could feel theirs. Weak and transient, it would be easy to take.
A bad idea began to form in her mind.
Hopper dove as the next shot roared past him. It smashed into the empty holoscreen wall and burned a wide blast mark into it. A blaster shot skipped off the second ball's metal exterior and cracked into the wall behind her. Sparks showered down on the floor.
Gathering her legs beneath her in a crouch, she focused on the light around her.
With little more than a thought, and a small jerk of her hand, she called it to her.
The room went dark. For a second, her skin glowed in the after effect, like a compact-fluorescent bulb that had just switched off. Squirming out from between the two Lost, she stood up and made a break for the door.
“Karin, no!”
Hopper made a strangled noise, but a crackle of electricity cut him off. She heard the thump of him diving to the floor just as a burst of electricity flashed through the room, followed by a blaster shot from the other man.
Then she was out the door and down the hall.
Chapter 22
She staggered into a run, breath rasping in her throat. The dizziness hadn't abated, but absorbing the light seemed to have helped. Just the fact she remained upright attested to that. Hopper's shouts came from behind her, along with blasts of electricity and blaster-fire, and she redoubled her efforts to get away, throwing herself toward the end of the hall.
Clio's bounty, what the fuck am I doing? I'm on a space station. We can't fucking leave.
Gulping down another breath, she overshot the corner and stumbled. She barely had time to register the hallway tip around her. Pain flashed up her nerves as she hit the floor, bones ringing from the impact. For a second, she fought against the rough, cool pre-fab beneath her, choking with the breath knocked out of her.
Behind her, someone screamed.
She pushed herself up and forced herself to run.
Are you a pilot, or aren't you?
She took the lights from the next hallway, and the one after that, too. Slowly, the spinning in her head began to slow. Her breath rose in her ears. As she held a hand in front of her, the light she cast followed the turn of her mind, illuminating the parts she wanted to see. When she changed her sprint into a kind of running, limping shuffle, a familiarity threaded its way back into her muscles. Her back straightened, breaths taking on an old rhythm.
She'd done this before, back in her childhood. Escaping the compound for midnight runs through the surrounding forest and woodland. Sometimes, even the compound security would join them.
Before the end, when their protocols had tightened.
The runs had probably saved her life.
Several bodies waited in the next hallway. She jogged up to them, bent down, and felt for a pulse. Then, satisfied they were alive—she had no idea what she'd have done if they’d been dead—she continued on.
Normal people might have lingered with them. But normal people didn't have a sister like Nomiki.
Nomiki didn't, in general, leave them alive.
When she dropped down a level, a sign on the wall pointed her to the cabins. She took the hall's light, let out a breath as it absorbed back into her skin, and continued on.
She paused as she got to the next hallway.
Cabins didn't change much from vessel to vessel. Maybe they did on luxury ships, but she'd never set her baby toe inside one of those. The crew quarters didn't differ much from the rest of the ship—the doors pushed together more, cramped in like an industrial, long-term version of the pod hotels she'd seen on Nova Earth—but she didn't have to recognize their shape to know she'd found the place.
The guard outside their cabin had crumpled to the floor.
Her jaw stiffened as she drew closer. A smell like burnt, microwaved plastic permeated the air, and several scorch marks blackened the wall next to him. His netlink and blaster lay on the floor, a meter away.
She tucked two fingers against his neck.
Alive. Good.
Extra good, since he remained unconscious. She frowned, giving the hall an anxious survey. If the balls had come to her cabin first, then had they actually managed to track her? Instead of wandering into the space station and getting lucky?
Something to keep in mind.
She slapped her hand against the door. “Soo-jin?”
No one answered. As she strained to hear, her eyes widened.
Gods, the balls hadn't gone inside, had they?
She hammered against the metal. “Soo!”
A rustling sound made her relax. “Karin? Is that you?”
Muffled by the walls and door, Soo-jin's voice sounded groggy but alive.
Karin relaxed. “Yeah, someone's attacking the station. You know anything?”
“No. Just heard some crazy shit. Decided to lay low. What happened to the guard?”
“He's down. Our friends with the balls.”
There was a pause. Then, “Yeah, I was afraid of that.”
She must have heard what happened.
“Well, maybe it's good for us.” Karin turned her attention to the keypad. It lit up when she put her hand against it, bright red. “Any idea on how to get this door open? Codes?”