Dragon Pearl: Chapters 14–22

“You’re right,” I conceded. “That was stupid of me.”

Despite its shiny metal exterior, the robot refused to move or respond to any of the test commands. Instead, a single red light blinked wanly from its forehead area.

“When an engineer interfaces with the ship’s energies, we call that Engineer’s Trance. If the meridians are compromised, engineers can get injured because their gi is synced with that of the ship.”

“We have external shields to protect us from regular attacks—missiles and lasers and so on. Most of the meridians are inside the ship, but sabotage is still a possibility—from hackers overloading the systems or subverting the maintenance robots. Mercenaries are getting more and more clever.”

“They serve a convenient role for the Thousand Worlds’ major factions. Individual worlds and space stations aren’t allowed to have private armies—that would threaten the peace. But planets and factions get into feuds anyway. Since they can’t declare war outright, they raid each other instead, and the mercenaries are the ones paid to do the dirty work.”

“Space Forces Command believes that the Dragon Pearl has surfaced in the Ghost Sector. That’s why we’re breaking the status quo. The mercenaries are all looking for it. We have to get to it first.”

She closed her eyes and recited a chant under her breath until the energy in the air dissipated.

“It’s easy for me to hide my presence around Haneul, especially when she’s upset,” Jang said, sounding wistful. “No one notices a ghost-wind when she’s accidentally summoning a miniature storm in the same room.”

One night Lieutenant Ju-Won regarded me sourly and said, “Your comportment is adequate, Cadet. See that it stays that way.”

I bit down on a yelp. Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough presence of mind to nudge her with Charm to dampen her suspicion.

Hydroponics on a ship the size of the Pale Lightning was something of a misnomer. Not only did it include vast, brightly lit gardens where vegetables were fed nutrient-rich water, it also contained gruesome vats where slabs of cultured meat grew.

Another ensign entered my row and started working alongside me.

“Well,” the warrant officer said, interrupting my musing, “see if you can help Cadet Haneul.”

Haneul frowned at the water tank as if she could fix everything by staring the hapless abalone into submission.

A guard stood watch at either end of the corridor that contained the damaged meridian. The nearest sentry started to frown at me.

The most severe penalty for a military infraction was execution.

The two lapsed into silence for a while.

“As you wish, sir,” the XO said in a subdued voice.

The captain looked even taller and more imposing than before as he loomed over me.

I didn’t have to fake the quaver in my voice, although it was caused less by the memory of the attack than by the thought of getting munched by the captain if he caught me lying.

I shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. “It’s no big deal. We’re just observing, right?”

The executive officer sat on a raised dais in the middle of the room. The other crew members were arranged at various stations in a semicircle around her.

I stared in wonder at the navigational display. Far bigger and more complex than the one we’d had in the sim module, it showed a holographic map of the region and the Gates we were passing through.

“If there’s a hull breach,” Sujin continued, “the ship is at risk of getting stuck in the Gate and never coming out again. That’s why we have to be absolutely certain the hull is in good shape before we Gate.”

The status indicators in their station flashed a garish red. “Cadet Sujin needs help!” I cried.

Something had damaged Meridian 3, and the resulting backlash had burned Sujin along the corresponding meridian of their own body.

I kept flinching from the task, remembering the livid burns inflicted on my friend.

“You feel the connection, don’t you?” the warrant officer said in a low, relentless voice. “That’s good. Give yourself over to it.”

My muscles and joints ached as though I’d been sprinting pell-mell and making sudden starts and stops.

I knew where the local star and its planets were, and I could detect the pulsing gravitational knot of the nearby Gate, the grand sweeping paths that connected star systems to each other like a skein of ever-shifting constellations.

But I’d only be gone a little while, long enough to see if the captain had secreted away any information about who was behind the mercenaries or where the deserters had gone.

The film had done its job. Several overlapping fingerprints showed up on it in sharp lines of red. I squinted at the whorls and ridges and concentrated on changing the tip of my index finger to match.

The other drawers contained various personal effects. A faded, fraying handkerchief embroidered with a magpie for good luck. A stained calligraphy brush with splayed bristles, although there were no inkstones.

The other drawers contained various personal effects. A faded, fraying handkerchief embroidered with a magpie for good luck. A stained calligraphy brush with splayed bristles, although there were no inkstones.

Myung was only able to tell me so much before her untimely demise.

For a second I thought I had missed the morning reveille and was going to get lectured for sleeping through an exciting session of scrubbing floors, or possibly helping out in the galley.

I faked swallowing, and, as soon as she turned away to make a notation, I spat the tablets into my hand.

“We have prevailed against the hostiles,” the captain went on.

“Jang,” I whispered into the air, “can you come with me and keep a lookout? We might learn something from the prisoners in the brig.”

He didn’t materialize or speak, but a cold breeze touched my cheek, as if in agreement. Emboldened, I walked quickly toward the brig.