by K. Gorman
When she turned her head, it felt stiff and heavy. Over-powered by gravity. As if the synovial fluid in her vertebrae at the base of her neck had rusted.
So this is how it feels, she thought, exchanging a long look with Soo-jin. This is how it feels as it all unravels.
This is how it feels to be so finally, utterly caught.
She’d known this would happen someday. After all the running—after all the careful hiding, all the avoiding-the-spotlight—she’d always known it would come to an end.
“I’ve checked the others,” he said when they didn’t speak. “The only reason I haven’t shot either of you yet is that, as far as I can tell, they’re all still alive and healthy, apart from being unconscious.” A muscle twitched in his jaw.
“Did you check their eyes?” Karin fought the tremor in her voice as she spoke. For all her heart had stopped before, it was making up for its previous lack now. Blood roared in her ears.
Soo-jin’s stare burned a hole into the side of her head as she straightened.
The man appeared to frown. “Yes. Of course. That’s standard response measurement. I—”
Karin knew the exact moment he realized what he’d missed. His eyes didn’t go wide, nor did his expression change dramatically. It was more of a falter, a momentary questioning, confusion and disbelief. The muzzle of his gun wavered.
For a second, he leaned away, an almost instinctual reaction—as if he wanted to run back and check.
But he schooled his features and shut down. “What about them?”
Soo-jin gave an exasperated sigh. “Does she need to spell it out for you? They’re not Lost anymore.”
“Bullshit. You can’t cure the Lost. We’ve tried.” He shook his head as if to push the thought away, but she saw the doubt cross his face immediately after. He shifted again, gaze following one of the Lost that had tracked toward him, their footsteps shuffling quietly on the floor. “How could you have?”
She tensed.
Gods. This was it. She was going to have to come clean.
But just how much of her story would he buy? It was incredulous, even to her.
Karin opened her mouth, but Soo-jin cut her off.
“Would you believe in faith healing?”
“What?” His gaze snapped up. “What do you mean?”
“You know, faith-based healing.” Soo-jin made a gesture to the three Lost who still sat in front of the room’s altar. “This is a religious community.”
The soldier’s face twisted as he realized what she meant, and he cast a look of mixed disgust and disdain toward the altar.
But, before he could speak, a clamor came from the hallway.
“Hey—hey, mister! Come quick! They’re—they’re waking up!”
Ethan, Karin thought with a pang. His voice sounded so young and vulnerable. At risk.
The soldier took a half-step back, then froze. His eyes darted between them, hesitating, and Karin could see the dilemma play out in his expression.
His conscience won.
“Stay here,” he said, then ran out the door.
His footsteps thumped down the hall as he ran back to the dining hall.
After a few seconds, the two of them exchanged a long look.
Then Soo-jin rose to her feet. Almost immediately, she turned and began to jimmy the closest window open.
“Oh, we aren’t staying.”
Chapter Thirty
“Faith healing?” Karin whispered, pushing around another low-hanging tree bough. “Really?”
Ahead of her, only visible by the flash of her skin and a bright streak through a few of her dreads, Soo-jin gave a quiet snort. “What? You were going to blab the whole thing. I had to stop you.”
“I—but—”
“No buts. Are you really that dumb? What happened to I’ve got to keep this secret or they’ll lock me in a scary lab and experiment on me? ‘Cause I can guarantee you they will lock you up.”
Okay, she had a point.
“I know, I know. I just…” They hadn’t discussed it directly, but it wasn’t that hard to imagine. Given the current state of the planet, and the current military control it appeared to be under, if they knew what she could do…
Yeah, they would definitely lock her up. And then not let her out until every last person had been healed and every last Shadow destroyed.
“Well, I just I didn’t think there was another choice,” she said finally.
Hell, it still felt surreal to her, looking back at the building they’d just escaped. A numb kind of shock had taken over her mind—as if her body wasn’t sure if she should be panicking or not. Half of her was dissociated, piled into a helium balloon of pressurized, leaden dissonance. A tinny, ringing pressure pushed into her ears from that side.
But the other half was strangely calm, as if she were coming down from the panic. As she pushed through another layer of vegetation, branches and undergrowth pressing against her pants and crackling underfoot, her heart slowed down to its normal rhythm.
There was a different kind of quiet here. Where the room had been dead and still—enclosed—the woods were open. The silence here was alive, moving.
“There’s always another choice. To be fair, I’m pretty sure my ‘faith healing’ thing would have also landed us both in a holding cell, but I’m betting they’d think us more crazy than legit, you know. I mean—suns, watch this branch—no offense, but your power is incredible in all senses of the word, both awe-inspiring and hard to believe.”
“Er…” Karin wasn’t sure how to react to that. “Thanks?”
“No, thank you. Hells, really. If you hadn’t done what you had, I’d still be rocking permanent demon dye.”
Karin arched a brow. “Demon dye?”
“Yeah. At some clubs, people put this dye in their eyes. Turns them all black, kind of like the Lost. Wears off after a few days. Really freaky to look at.” Soo-jin, her head just visible in her pale skin and the glints of light that occasional came off the beads on her dreads, gave herself a shake. “Suns, you did heal them.”
“Not all of them,” Karin reminded her.
“Yeah, well, don’t beat yourself up over that. You took a big risk.” Karin almost ran into her as she paused and turned back. “I’m not sure you know how much I appreciate that.”
Karin leaned back at her sudden closeness. Her hand scraped the bark of a smaller tree as she steadied her balance.
“I’m sure if anyone else had my power, they would have—”
“No, they wouldn’t have. You’re good people. I hope you stick around.”
A pang pulled at the inside of her chest. For a second, she couldn’t breathe.
She forced herself past the emotion, tried to play it off with a shrug and a grunt. “Where else is there to go?”
“Yeah, no kidding, huh? If the whole system’s like this…” She sighed. “Maybe Marc wasn’t wrong about the whole ‘settle on a far-distant, sunlit moon’ thing.” She shook her head. “Sol, I never thought I’d become a colonizer.”
“I did, at one point,” Karin said. “Me and Nomiki.”
Soo-jin looked at her. In the dark, Karin wasn’t sure exactly what she could see, but the weight of the other woman’s stare bored into her.
“One of these days, I’m going to have to get that story out of you,” she said. “Because it sounds amazing.”
“Let’s see if we can get back on our ship first,” Karin said. “I’m sure someone will come looking for us soon.”
“Yeah, I see that. Path’s just ahead.” Soo-jin’s hand caught her wrist gently and guided her through. “Also, I basically grew up in these woods. Summers, anyway. Outsmarting the military on your home turf? This is like a kid’s wet dream. I got this.”
A few minutes later, they sat in the trees adjacent to the gravel lot, studying the two ships and the front of the building. Soo-jin’s path—little more than a game or, as Karin suspected, a kid, trail—had taken them relatively parallel to the lot, an
d they’d broken from it to creep forward.
No sirens, shouts, or floodlights had sprung up in the last few minutes, so Karin guessed that the soldiers weren’t looking for them yet.
Now might be a good time to make for the ship.
As she’d thought by the angle of its lights, the Alliance ship stood more than double the size of the Nemina. It had a bulbous design, with smooth curves and rounded edges that put it at least twenty years younger. Several layers of dust and grime coated its shiny, jet-black exterior, reminding her that it and its men, like the Alliance carrier in orbit, had probably not seen a lot of rest lately.
Though the two ships were both military, the Alliance vessel looked much more capable than the Nemina.
In fact, with its twig-thin landing gear, angular nose, and tipped-back wings, the Nemina looked little more than an insect.
“There’s a joke about penis size in here somewhere,” Soo-jin said beside her. “But I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to make it since I’m friends with Marc.”
Karin felt her eyebrow give a slight twitch. “I think, since you wouldn’t be insulting his penis, it’d be appropriate in that respect. I’m less sure if the situation is appropriate for it.”
“Every situation is appropriate for a penis joke,” Soo-jin replied. “You just need to be determined enough.”
“Not to change the topic or anything, but we should probably think this through.” She gave her companion a sidelong glance. “Outsmarting the military on home turf aside, we eventually need to get back on the ship.”
“Clearly, you should have parked it closer.” Soo-jin jabbed a finger forward. “Their outboard cameras are going to laugh at us if we make a run for it.”
“I could actually block them,” she said. “You know, with my light.”
“Yeah? Like, fuck with their sensors?” Soo-jin tilted her head, considering it. “You’d have to do all-around, then. Make it so it’s not obviously blocking. And then there’s the small matter of avoiding detection if they decide to search the ship.” In the light, Karin saw her chew her bottom lip. “Can’t you, I dunno, remote-pilot it over or something?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Even if she did have that capability, don’t you think they’d notice?”
“Touché. Are her engines still warm?” Soo-jin cast a glance toward the building. “I mean, we weren’t in there very long.”
“They probably are, actually. Taking off won’t be the problem. I—”
“Shh.” Soo-jin grabbed her arm. “Something’s happening.”
They sank down into the underbrush as the door to the sanctuary burst open. Three soldiers spilled out, fanning across the lot with their guns aloft, the lights on their scopes like dots of white as they mingled with the lights of their ship. Their shadows bent and jumped on the white sanctuary walls as they diverted away from their ship.
One of the soldiers swung his light toward them, and Karin instinctively ducked.
Maybe it was just her fear-fueled imagination, but the twenty-feet of forest directly in front of them didn’t actually look that thick. It was winter, after all, even if this area did have a sub-tropical classification. From her perspective, it felt like her pale skin practically glowed against the shadowy undergrowth.
It didn’t, though. She’d made sure of that, at least.
“Looks like our window of opportunity just got a bit more… complex,” Soo-jin said quietly.
“Yes. Guessing our absence was noticed.” She nodded toward the sanctuary. “I can see lights out the back, too. You think they’re checking the dorms for us?”
“I imagine they’ll check the forest, first. And, unfortunately, we’re sitting in the most logical hiding place we’d go. I mean, it’s not like we backtracked or anything. And I wouldn’t try doing anything like that now.” Soo-jin narrowed her eyes, her gaze on the path to their ship. “Your abilities don’t extend to bending light, do they? You know, like with the stealth camo some ships have?”
Karin paused. “Actually, I haven’t tried that.”
“I suppose now’s probably not the best time to experiment with that, hey?”
“No. I’d probably make us glow first.”
“Well, what can you do? Other than heal people and kill Shadows?”
“I can make shapes?” she said. “Light places up? Used to do that with my sister…”
“Yeah, I bet you make a mean flashlight. What’s your range?” Soo-jin sat up straighter, viewing the downslope of the sanctuary’s lot. “You think you could reach the road?”
She craned her neck. “Probably.”
“Can you make it look like a flashlight beam? Move it so it gets their attention? Nothing too obviously ‘come follow me’ but—shit!” Soo-jin’s voice suddenly quieted, and she pulled Karin down with her. “He got close.”
Cold flushed across the front of her chest when the soldier stepped into their frame of sight. Heart hammering, they sank down behind the branches. Not that they hadn’t been aware of his approach—they had, and, as far as Karin could tell, they were appropriately far back enough as to be hidden—but he’d moved much faster, and much more quietly, than either of them had anticipated.
And now that he was here, the reality of their situation struck fast.
Suddenly, every sound became amplified. She strained to observe everything she could—then, remembering something Nomiki had said about people being able to feel other’s attention, she jerked her wide-eyed stare down to his feet.
Pretend to be a rock. Or a tree. A leaf. Some piece of dead, over-wintered wild growth left over from fall. Faint traces of the ship’s lighting shone on some of the stick-thin branches. The soldier’s own light flashed over their heads. Soo-jin had gone absolutely still, a solid, unmoving, silent presence pressing into her elbow.
Briefly, her mind flashed back to the Ozark, when she’d done similar with the Lost.
She held her breath.
The soldier’s light flashed over their heads again. Gravel crunched under his boot, sounding like it was right beside them.
Then, after a few seconds, he passed, inspecting the next segment of forest.
Karin let out a slow breath, then brought her head up to watch his slowly-retreating back.
Soo-jin grabbed her shoulder. “Now,” she hissed into her ear. “Do it now.”
Karin swallowed hard. Then, as the soldier moved farther and farther away, she rose up on her knees. Light flared across her hands, but she hid them inside her shirt, palms smooth and tingling against her abdomen.
Like a flashlight, she thought. Don’t bother with anything fancy, just a simple flash.
She shifted her right hand, then swiveled it across her stomach, the same way she might a computer mouse.
An answering flare of light snapped up from the end of the driveway, some fifty meters down the slope. She quickly tamped it down, spreading its light like a cone. The top of its beam darted across the bases of a few trees that lined the road, and then she made it jump and skitter to the side, as if they were running.
The soldiers in the lot didn’t say anything—no shouts of discovery or alarm—but they had all stopped to watch.
A second later, with a few hand signals that Karin couldn’t comprehend, they had all started a kind of stealthy half-jog down the drive. One crossed from the opposite side to join their guy on the treeline.
Soo-jin let out a breath. “I can’t believe that worked.”
“I can do their ship, too.” She squinted. “Not sure if I could find all the cameras, though.”
“Yeah, and I bet they’ll be looking in our direction,” Soo-jin said, considering the angles. “You think you could grope yourself some more and cover their entire ship, just to be safe?”
“Give me a sec.” She squinted at the military vessel. “I did a couple electives in ship design.”
But, before she’d done more than spy out the obvious cameras—above and below where the ship’s aft guns were mounted—movement ca
ught her eye back to the sanctuary. Marc stepped down from the entrance door, squinting against the light of the ship.
“Shit.” Soo-jin sat up. “Can you—hell, I dunno. What should we do? Stop him?”
“He could open the door for us,” she said. “That way, we can just run in.”
“Yeah, yeah—well, he had his netlink on him, but I think if they see him talking to someone on it...” Soo-jin nodded toward the bigger ship. “Well, they’ll be a lot more suspicious of him.”
Karin cocked an eyebrow. “And they’re not suspicious of him now?”
“Good point.” Soo-jin raised a finger. “But they can look at messages on a netlink.” She glanced at her sideways. “Can you do something with the light?”
Just then, the door to the sanctuary burst open again. Two more soldiers came out, guns lifted.
Marc, then roughly ten feet from the front step of the entranceway, about half-way between there and the closest ship, whirled around.
The soldiers descended, guns leveled on Marc.
Karin’s heart went cold as the soldiers barked an order, its exact command lost between the distance and the diction.
Marc’s hands rose from his side, palms splayed forward. His whole body had tensed.
“Uhh…” Soo-jin said. “What’s going on?”
“Maybe they found out he wasn’t Alliance,” Karin said softly.
Whatever it was, the lead soldier appeared to be angry. He stepped forward, face twisted into a snarl that even she could see, then made an exaggerated motion as he spat on the concrete in Marc’s direction.
Yep. Probably found out his Fallon service history.
When the soldier spoke again, it was in a low, angry tone.