Dragon Pearl(39)

The lieutenant shook her head. “What’s the matter? You don’t remember how to perform that duty? Well, the other cadets can remind you.”

I wasn’t sure what inspection meant. Hopefully it would be like gardening in our dome back home. At least it doesn’t involve toilets, I thought, but I kept that to myself.

By pretending I was prepping her for a quiz, I got Haneul to explain the setup to me. The ship’s hydroponics facility grew food to supplement our rations. 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. A separate section contained saltwater tanks, in which unshelled abalone meat clung to the walls.

My task, once Haneul had oriented me, was to go through the gardens’ rows and check for signs of mold or rotted roots. The computers were supposed to monitor the plants, but they weren’t foolproof, and no one wanted to take chances when it came to our food supply.

Another ensign entered my row and started working alongside me. I smiled cautiously at him. He was broadly built, and I recognized him as one of the sleeping cadets from Bunk 2. Once upon a time, he had bunked with my brother.

“Sorry this is taking me so long,” I said. “I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Not a problem,” he said. “I thought you could use a hand.”

My spirits lifted. “I’m Jang,” I said. If this charade went on much longer, I wouldn’t remember my real name.

He bowed formally. “I’m Woo-Jin,” he said. Then he let out a laugh. “You thought I wouldn’t remember you? We humans have to stick together.” His smile took the sting out of the words, and I reminded myself that I had to act like I was, in fact, human. “We may outnumber the supernaturals,” he said, “but I’ve always suspected that the captain treats them better, because he’s one, too.”

Woo-Jin double-checked some of my work and turned up a couple rows where I’d missed some rot. I flushed at the mistakes. Even though I was an imposter, I was determined to do well.

I glanced around. Haneul had her hands pressed up against one of the saltwater tanks and was frowning in intense concentration, blessing the water so the abalone would stay healthy. Sujin was busy checking the ratios of chemicals in the nutrient mix.

Woo-Jin caught my look. “Do you ever wish you could do things like that?”

“What, chemistry?” I said. “That’s Sujin’s specialty.” I didn’t have any crushing desire to spend my free time reading chem textbooks.

“Yes, goblins have a better intuition for that stuff,” Woo-Jin said.

“Humans make better shamans and scholars,” I said, repeating what I’d heard from the holonet.

He grinned at me. “Yeah, except here we are, being neither shamans nor scholars.”

That wasn’t entirely true. We may not have been surrounded by books and scrolls on the Pale Lightning, but all the cadets—humans and supernaturals alike—did have to study hard. We needed to understand the basics of the geomantic arts—the flow of gi and the cosmic balance of the universe—and engineering to keep the ship running. I couldn’t help feeling a little proud that even though I was a “lowly fox” and two years younger than everyone else, I was keeping up. For the most part.

With Woo-Jin’s help, I finished early. I looked around again. Haneul had moved on to the next water tank, and Sujin was preoccupied with some adjustments to the nutrient mix. No one was paying attention to us.

“Hey,” I said to Woo-Jin, leaning on Charm, “was it weird in Bunk Two after that boy deserted with the rest of the team?”

Woo-Jin frowned. “I wish I knew what really happened. I already told the captain everything I know.”

So Hwan had done the questioning personally. That wasn’t surprising. It was inconvenient, though. I already knew that I needed to ask the captain some questions. But how was I going to do that?

“Everyone was on edge for a while,” Woo-Jin was saying. “I thought things were settling down, but . . .” He bit his lip. “I could almost swear that the captain’s covering for—”

“You two done over there?” the warrant officer yelled at us.

I bit off a curse. “Yes, Officer.” Was Woo-Jin suggesting that the captain was involved in the team’s disappearance? Why would he—?

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

The dragon was tugging a stray lock of hair in frustration. “This isn’t working the way it’s supposed to,” she muttered when I reached her.

“What isn’t working?” I asked.

“The ship’s gi is concentrated at this point to help the plants grow,” Haneul said, “just like there is a focal point at Medical to encourage people to heal more quickly. I’ve heard some engineers say that the energy flows have been shaky ever since we rescued the Red Azalea.”

Oh no. That couldn’t be because Jang was still lurking on the ship, could it? For all I knew, he was watching us now, maybe out of longing to be near the friends he’d had in life.

“Do they have any idea what’s causing it?” I asked. That ought to be a safe question.