by K. Gorman
She shook her head. She was trying to put logic to something neither rational nor, as far as they were aware, strictly real. What did it matter when the Shadows attacked? From all reports, the first attack had been staged across a single cycle.
But then, if they did figure out when they had attacked, and if they figured out where the first one had appeared…
Maybe they could find the origin. Find out where it had all started.
No. No way. Others existed for that kind of thing. Someone in the tri-planet Alliance had to be working on it. They had all those military resources floating around, after all.
Although, by the looks of things, Enlil’s military seemed a little busy dealing with the Lost.
Marc reached over and grabbed a small duffel off the shelf, emptied the contents on the bed, and started pulling clothes out of a set of drawers that had been stuffed under another shelf. “Mind getting that computer over there? Maybe a netlink? He’ll need them on the ship.”
She raised an eyebrow, but did as she was told. A few laptops cluttered across the shelves. She picked the newest one, looped its charging cables around her forearm, then found a small carrying bag to wrap it in. Several netlinks also inhabited the room, but the one on a counter near the tiny pull-out kitchen had the least amount of dust on it. Its screen rolled out as she grabbed it, asking for a passcode.
It flicked off as she tossed it into the bag with the laptop.
When she turned around, Marc had finished packing. He stood still, arms collected in front of him as he studied her.
“You up for this trip?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“You sure? It’s a military operation.”
“I’ve been around military before.”
“Yeah, but…”
She quirked an eyebrow. “You planning on telling them what I can do?”
He shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. You’re right about that—we’d never get you out. It’s just—well, Cookie is Lost.”
“So?”
“He may be considered a threat. They may not let us take him. If—”
“Look, let’s just play it by ear. They may be happy to be rid of him.” She made a gesture. “You saw how many they had on Caishen? And that was just a station’s worth.”
His jaw tensed at her words, and she almost regretted the reminder. “If nothing else, we can at least see what it’s like,” she said. “If we can’t get him out now, then—”
“No. We need to get him out as soon as we can get in. If we wait too long, they may close the bases down to outsiders, and we’ll have missed our chance.”
“All right.” She raised her hands. “Now you’re starting to worry me. What do you have in mind?”
“I dunno. I thought maybe if we could get him into a closet or something, somewhere out of view, and you did your thing… Then we get him out quick.” His shoulder drew up as he sighed. “I dunno. I just think—”
The quick beep of an incoming call on his netlink made them both jump. He frowned as he pulled it out of his pocket, checking the information on the screen. Then, flashing her a quick look, he brought it to his ear. “Soo?”
In the quiet, Soo-jin’s voice proved rather easy to hear.
“Marc? You guys need to get over here right now. Songbird’s been taken. We got people trapped. You guys anywhere near the Bird?”
Songbird Sanctuary. The image of a temple building flashed through her mind as she remembered where Soo-jin had been going. She’d only seen pictures of the place, and a brief description on the ident that had registered on the ship’s map, but, by the few times Soo-jin had spoken of it, there were a number of people who lived at its mountain residence, and they were definitely important to her.
And if they were important to Soo-jin, they were important to the rest of them.
Already, she felt Marc’s plan changing.
“We’re at Cookie’s.” Marc pulled the netlink away to check the time. “If we find a cab, we can have her up in thirty minutes.”
“Good. Do it. And bring guns. And lots of lights.” Soo-jin paused. “And definitely bring Karin.”
Across the room, he met her eyes. She nodded, returning his grim expression.
“Got it. We’ll be there.”
“Good. Get going.”
The call cut off.
He sighed. His jaw tensed as he looked around the room, a muscle in his cheek working as he took one last, long sweep over Cookie’s place. Then he picked up the duffel, pushing its strap over his shoulder.
“Guess Cookie will have to wait a little longer.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The last glimmer of sunset cut from view as Karin piloted the Nemina down. Thick darkness covered the forested mountain below, allowing only the occasional glimmer of streetlights from where the highway intersected with the mountain at its base. The access road ribboned through the trees below her. It cut through the canopy in a brief and sudden manner, like finding a slice of bare scalp in a parting of thick hair.
She flicked on the forward lights as she drew close to the surface. Leaves and branches, their color washed out from the yellow-white tint, shook from the thrusters’ air push.
Then the dusty-gray of a gravel lot flashed onto the viewscreen. She pushed on the hover mode, eased the craft around for a better look, and spotted Soo-jin and Ethan leaning against an older-model Senschel farther up the lot.
The two watched them land, the wind from the thrusters blowing a haze of dust into the air. Soo-jin lifted a hand up against the Nemina’s lights.
Then she connected to the ship’s network. Marc’s netlink went off in his hand.
He set it on an empty part of the dashboard. “What’s the word?”
“Shadows. Lots of them.” Through the viewscreen, they saw Soo-jin turn her face toward the sanctuary. “Did you bring the guns?”
“Yeah. You get any visual?”
“I saw at least two, and then I high-tailed it. Didn’t want to risk Ethan. Or, you know, myself.” She paused. “I’ve been talking to the others on the local network. Grandpa Chris, Leina, and Nona are all holed up in the back.”
“And you want to do this alone?”
“Absolutely. Alone and before the military gets here. I thought that—” Her breath choked. She hunched where she leaned against the side of the land-vehicle, looking small and thin as she bowed her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.
For a moment, only a slight static crackled across the connection.
“Sorry, I—” A ragged breath went through the microphone. She straightened. “This is my home, pretty much. You know?”
“It’s okay. What were you thinking?”
“Well, I thought that it would be better if we got this place cleared before the military got in. That way, Karin could do her thing. Sorry, Karin, it’s just—”
“No.” She sat up and leaned forward. “I don’t mind.”
Although, even as she said it, a hot flash of panic snapped through her chest. More people would know about her.
“Thanks. I… really appreciate it.”
She swallowed a hard thought and sat back, contemplating the building. From the Nemina’s view—she’d parked it terribly, on a bad angle—only the right-most corner infringed at the very top-left of the screen. The rest was just Soo-jin, Ethan, the dented land-vehicle, and the thick, black forest that rose up at the edge of the lot.
“Anyway.” Soo-jin took a breath. “I pinged the feeds, and it looks like they started rural sweeps a couple days ago. We haven’t actually seen or heard anything, but…”
“But we should get moving,” Marc finished for her.
“Yes. Songbird’s been sending out a distress call for seven days now. I can’t disable it from outside.”
“Right. Let’s move, then.” He reached for the netlink to cut the call. “See you soon.”
A few minutes later, they were standing in the parking lot, looking up at the low, silent build
ing.
The sanctuary wasn’t big. Not even by planet standards. It sat on a single level, taking up a large footprint of land. Built in part to resemble an old religious institution, the low walls were made of white concrete and stretched on either side of the centered entrance to fill all but a narrow gap between it and the thick trees. Six windows made uniform dark squares in its front.
The entrance itself jutted out several meters from the building, forming a covered pathway into the building. Several stairs led up from the parking lot, along with a ramp on one side. Asiatic dragons encircled the walkway’s timber supports, winding up to a clay tile roof that curled up at the corners. Ghost-like carvings danced and fought in a crowded, intricate parade along the roof line.
They were supposed to scare off demons. Supposed to protect. She had read that once, back when she’d been researching.
Two door guardian stencils flashed on the glass as they approached. Beyond them, more glass refracted the light inside. The hall looked dark and deserted.
“Are there lights in this place?” Marc asked. “Or is the power out?”
“It’s on a solar grid,” Soo-jin said. “Don’t see why it’d be down—only if someone pulled a battery or something.” She lifted a hand and pointed through the wall to their left. “There’s a switch up the hall a little ways.”
“Good. ‘Cause I really don’t care about stealth right now.”
He brought his blaster up and reached for the door. The glass pane caught Karin’s flashlight as it opened. Faint scratches glistened like the lines of a spider’s web in the sun.
With one last glance back at the Nemina, which glowed on standby like some enormous, underlit insect in the lot, she followed them inside.
Warm, close air settled around her head. As soon as the door closed behind them, a hush of quiet fell over them. She had a brief memory of her childhood, the way everything seemed to become dead still during a winter snowfall. These last few years, she’d grown accustomed to her urban life. There was always something moving—either on and working or on standby. Nothing was ever still. And nothing had been still since she and Nomiki had so violently made their exit.
A click sounded up the hall. Marc, one hand on the switch-plate he’d found, turned a questioning stare back at Soo-jin.
“Office,” she said, jerking her head toward the counter built into the wall in front of them. “We can check the computer.”
A half-wall separated the office and reception from their hallway, with a door farther down for access. It creaked when Soo-jin tried to pry it open. She hesitated, then pushed it all the way, letting it bump against its stop as she covered the office with her blaster.
After a few seconds, and one long look at the door to the inner office—whose panes were black and marked with partially-opened blinds—Soo-jin put the weapon down and bent over the computer.
A screen lit up in front of her. Below, they heard a slight whir as the machine booted up.
“Give it a minute,” she said. “It’s a bit antique.”
Marc moved back toward them, keeping his gun covering the end of the hallway. “Check the files. I want to know how many people are in here.”
“There are thirty-four,” Soo-jin said without looking up. “All Lost except the five in the pantry. Nona told me.” She glanced up. “They’ve got a couple of kids with them. Ran out of water earlier today.”
“Sol.”
The light reflecting off Soo-jin’s face changed, and she leaned closer to the screen. The desk thumped as she typed a command into the holo-keys.
“The grid’s fine. Batteries are at full, only a bit discharging.” She glanced over to Marc. “Maybe someone tripped the circuits.”
“It’s the Shadows,” Ethan said. “They mess with lights.”
Karin started. He hadn’t spoken at all since they’d arrived. He stood next to her, less than a foot from her hip, clutching a flashlight in his hands as tight as he could. Its beam illuminated the worn, scuffed baseboards in front of them in a trembling light.
She put a hand on his shoulder. “What do you mean? They turn the power off?”
He shrugged, the action half a shiver. “I dunno. The lights just go wonky when they’re around sometimes.” He glanced up at her. “Not always, though.”
Her jaw tightened. She hadn’t realized he’d had quite so much experience with them. She’d assumed his dad had locked him away for safety and then arranged the emergency beacon.
On the other side of the wall, Soo-jin narrowed her eyes. “He’s right. You remember the first one? Karin’s? It totally fu—mucked up the storage lighting. Marc, you remember how the switch didn’t work?”
“Yeah. The other storage was black when you were taken, too. And then, when Karin got it out of you—well…” He turned a glance to catch Karin’s eyes. “Assuming the flicking lights weren’t a side-effect of your power?”
She shook her head. “Wasn’t me.”
“Great. They can magically turn off lights.” Soo-jin leaned her head back. The whites of her eyes flashed as she rolled them toward the ceiling. “These things are straight outta a video game, aren’t they?”
“Too bad we only get one life.”
“Yeah. Too bad.” Soo-jin picked up the blaster and stepped away from the computer. “Come on. Let’s keep moving.”
They passed the switch Marc had tried before. Like most of the building, it was old. A simple mechanical button rather than anything digitized with a screen.
Easier to fix, if things went wrong.
The glow of the Nemina’s lights fell at an angle through the windows, creating scalene patches of light on the walls and ceiling. The gold-tinted frame of the nearest painting gleamed in the corner of one. A nouveau-traditional ink wash depicting several deities, it had an even mix of East and West representation. They floated around the hard-edged circle and panels of the ERL Gate against a flat white background and a vermilion matte backing. Several cherry-red couches and chairs lined the hallway beyond.
At the end, the hallway turned right. Their flashlights swept down the next hallway, seeming inadequate, washed out, and insufficient for the black.
Karin’s fingers twitched. “You want me to light it up?”
“Absolutely,” Soo-jin said. “This place is freaky—”
“Wait.” Marc threw out an arm. “Your light hurts the Shadows, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s save it. I’d rather not give them any warning in case they can defend against it.” He paused again. “How much of it do you have, anyway?”
“Er.” She stopped, frowning down. “I have no idea.”
“Do you get tired when you use it?”
“Yeah. Sometimes. It’s been a while, though.” Seven years, in fact. Ever since she and Nomiki had broken through the gate, she’d kept her light powers on the down low. “And the tiredness might have been from something else. It wasn’t the most... relaxing of times.”
A few seconds passed as her two companions read between the lines.
“Okay, well, I’d rather you didn’t find your limit tonight. Let’s use it sparingly.”
“Shit.” Soo-jin crinkled her nose. “That would suck. Better keep it in your pants, Rin.”
Karin glanced sharply up at the shortening of her name, but Soo-jin had already turned away. Her jaw tightened. For a second, she had almost sounded like Nomiki.
“Left side, as we discussed?” Soo-jin said to Marc, nodding toward the door ahead.
“Yep.”
“All right. Karin, Ethan, keep an eye on our backs.”
Karin raised her flashlight—and her empty hand. “You guys are going to have to teach me how to shoot when we have time.”
Beside her, Ethan clutched his flashlight hard, sweeping its beam across the hall as fast as he could.
The door gave a slight creak as Soo-jin pulled it open. Then there was an explosion of footsteps and rustling clothes.
The skin on her spine
prickled as they left, and her heart sped up. She forced herself to keep her breath steady, her eyes on the empty hallway.
A few seconds later, Marc’s voice drifted back through the open door. “Clear.”
She ushered Ethan inside.
The room was spacious and long. Patches of light filtered across the wide floor, picking up more broad ink wash paintings in thin metal frames on the walls and a long table with a dark, faux-wood surface. Folding chairs spread out in a half circle facing the corner of the room. A faint scent of incense tinged the air with a dry, woody smell.
“Community room. Part of the religious services.” Soo-jin swept a hand toward a small shrine in the corner. Another painting, this one a little different from the ink wash on the walls, lay mounted in the middle of the dark shrine. She nodded toward a door in the wall, a bit breathless when she spoke. “Next?”
Marc studied it. “Does that have a door to the hallway?”
“Yes.”
He considered it for a few more seconds. “All right. We’ll take this one. Tape the one behind us.”
Karin pulled a thick roll of red packing tape from her jacket and put a couple pieces across the gap between door and jamb, then again between the bottom and the floor. If anyone came through after them, they’d have at least some warning.
The next room had only a single window at its end. Soo-jin and Marc cleared it, then wound their way through a series of folding tables. The one near the window carried a stack of plates and cups. They taped the door and kept going.
They found their first Lost in the next room. She was short, about even with Soo-jin’s five-foot-three, with faded, dirty-blonde hair that fell around her neck and shoulders in a fraying muss that caught the light. Dirt smudged across the bottoms of her faded pink pajamas, with two prominent spots that had rubbed into the areas below her knees. One of her sleeves had hitched up, revealing a snarl of dried blood and dirt around her right palm and wrist. Her head turned toward them. Black eyes watched, impassive, as Marc and Soo-jin swept the room.
“Clear,” Marc said. He strode across and shut the other door, then turned his attention to the woman.