by K. Gorman
Shit. It’s in a tank. It can’t do anything. She forced a slow, deep breath. And even if it could, the doctors wouldn’t have left it out in the open like this.
Her eyes narrowed, gaze going from the gap in the sheet that showed the base to the vague blur that she thought might be a head. A new kind of excitement shivered through her.
Is it human?
She hesitated. Then, leaning forward, she reached for the edge of the sheet.
“Karin?” Dr. Sasha’s voice came from the hall—along with her footsteps, runners squeaking on the linoleum. “You down here?”
She snatched her hand back and stepped away from the tank just as Dr. Sasha poked her head into the door.
As a girl, she’d thought the doctor tall, but the last semester had changed her viewpoint. A middle-sized woman, she had thick legs and wide hips that flared on either side of her black pants. She had a big chest, too, but she had packaged it away inside a loose-fitting, deep purple blouse. Although she wore no lab coat today, a stethoscope hung from her neck.
It seemed a cliché, almost. Like a doctor who’d just walked off a medical drama set.
She must have just checked up on one of the other kids.
Her dark eyes caught Karin’s, and an eyebrow lifted as she glanced to the large, covered tank beside her. “This door was supposed to be locked.”
Karin ducked her head, hands rising up in a tentative manner. “It wasn’t. Sorry. I thought maybe you were in here, but then I saw…”
She flashed Dr. Sasha a guilty smile and made a small gesture, directing her gaze half up the covered tank and then back to the doctor again. “Sorry.”
“You did nothing wrong. Your sister, however…” Dr. Sasha shook her head, one hand picking a splinter that Karin hadn’t noticed off the door’s locking mechanism. The doctor seemed more amused than surprised. “It’s all right, I suppose. It’s just—he’s not quite ready yet.”
Karin frowned, not sure if she’d heard right. “He?”
“Yes. I think you know by now what we do here? At least some of it?”
Dr. Sasha put her hands into her pockets and wandered into the room, stopping just short of the tank. Light fell over her features as she turned her gaze upward. The yellowed fluorescents did little to promote the deep richness in her brown skin, but they put a hard, detailed sheen on its surface.
“You made us in a lab. We’re helping you fix things. Diseases and stuff.”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“You were made here, too, weren’t you?” She glanced down to where the doctor’s tattoo was just visible on her wrist. The single-digit numbers were a far cry from Karin and Nomiki’s triple-digits.
“No, not here. Different facility. We were in Brazil, then.”
Her eyes rocketed up. “Brazil? In South America? But I thought—”
“No, you’re right. It’s gone, now.” A trace of sadness tinged Dr. Sasha’s smile, as if she were remembering something. “Which is why we aren’t there anymore.”
“Oh. Yes.” She closed her mouth, unsure what to say.
There’d been a war, she remembered, but that had been more than twenty years ago—before she’d been born. To her, it seemed like ancient history, but she’d never known that Dr. Sasha had been born there. She’d thought the compound had always been here, built on the ruins of what had once been the Roman Empire.
Well, part of the empire, anyway. Closer to home than the English or Egyptian fronts. Nomiki had placed them somewhere in Greece, probably near the Swiss border, but they couldn’t be sure. The landscape had changed too much from their textbooks, but they’d whittled through the documentaries in the computers, and they’d exhausted every compound resource trying to match a civilization to the ruins on the hillside.
Her attention wandered back to the sheet. Several lights had become visible, reflecting off the back of the fabric. The one closest to her, glowing a bright green, flickered rapidly. Above, part of the tank showed in the lip of the sheet. A floral green color tinged the water, different from what she’d seen in normal life-tanks.
As she realized she was staring, she snapped her attention back to Dr. Sasha.
But the doctor only smiled. “Do you want to see him?”
Karin stiffened as she reached for the edge of the sheet, pulling it back and looping it over the tank with a practised hand. A foot appeared, similar brown skin to the doctor’s, though the effect of the water tinted it closer to tan. A series of tubes coiled around underneath it, and, as Dr. Sasha pulled at the next sheet—they must have been attached at the top, because they didn’t fall completely away—the rest of the leg appeared, showcasing a set of electrodes that suctioned to the boy’s calf, knee, and thigh.
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, raw 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 the 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.