Dragon Pearl(40)
“They’ve been working on rebalancing the flow,” Haneul said, “but Engineering told me that someone hacked one of the key meridians. The ship’s been cranky ever since.”
“Which meridian?”
“The one that runs through Deck Three.” Haneul frowned at the water tank as if she could fix everything by staring the hapless abalone into submission. “We’re hoping the bad luck doesn’t spread to Medical—it’s on the same level.”
I was starting to hatch an idea. When I needed to leave this ship—and it would be when, not if—a little careful sabotage might buy me some time to escape. Guilt washed over me, because I’d gotten to like the rest of the crew, and it would cause them trouble. But once I figured out who was behind the mercenaries who had killed Jang, and where Jun had gone, I wouldn’t have any reason to linger.
At the end of our shift, the warrant officer hemmed and hawed before declaring that we’d have to return during the next day-cycle. “You’re getting faster, Cadet Jang,” he said to me. “But you need to be more careful in your inspections.”
I swallowed. “Yes, Officer.”
After mess that day, I claimed to have a stomachache and begged off watching a fencing match. Sujin looked disappointed, but only said, “I hope you feel better soon. Are you sure it’s not because you’re still hungry?”
“Leave him be,” Haneul said. “And don’t give him shrimp crackers—they never help stomachaches. He’s probably suffering from one of the ‘experiments’ you conducted while on KP duty.”
While they argued over that, I slipped away.
I headed toward Deck 3. I wanted to examine the damaged meridian for myself. I didn’t have much experience with energy flows, and I was curious to feel one up close.
According to the old lore, energy flows could bring whole civilizations to ruin or grant good fortune. Just like you could have flows of good or bad luck in a room, depending on how furniture and ornaments were arranged, there could be flows of good or bad luck across star systems and beyond. The Thousand Worlds hadn’t yet gotten to the point where we could rearrange the stars for our own benefit, but I’d heard that some of the more ambitious dragon masters dreamed of making that happen.
I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I took a wrong turn and had to retrace my steps. Don’t walk too quickly, I reminded myself. Act like you belong here.
I passed several soldiers and technicians on the way. By now, I had perfected the worried, borderline sullen look of someone trying to get his job done before having three more assigned to him. I no longer minded getting extra chores, though. When people gave you work to do, you stopped being a person and became a part of the scenery. Sometimes that was convenient.
A guard stood watch at either end of the corridor that contained the damaged meridian. The nearest sentry started to frown at me. I pushed some Charm in his direction to convince him I belonged here. He blinked watery eyes, then muttered to himself and looked away. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and hurried past. I threw Charm at the guard on the far end, too, to make him too drowsy to notice me.
In class, Lieutenant Hyosu had shown us a diagram depicting meridians as glowing lines flowing through the ship. In reality, meridians didn’t glow. But as soon as I entered the corridor, I felt a prickling on my skin, and I saw a flickering in the air, like the shimmer of a heat haze. That much was normal. What wasn’t normal was the way my eyes stung, or the way the air chilled my skin. A healthy meridian shouldn’t cause pain, or feel like a ghost-wind.
One of the floor tiles was warped. I tripped on it and went sprawling. Despite all the drilling exercises I’d done with the other cadets over these past few weeks, I still hadn’t gotten used to my higher center of mass, or my heavier body. I yelped as I rolled to soften my fall. I ended up bruising my elbows and hip anyway.
Oh. Of course. The fall wasn’t due only to my newfound clumsiness. The flow of bad luck had affected me. I started to appreciate why fixing meridians was so important, and why the repairs required a delicate touch.
Unfortunately, this also meant the bad luck would persist as long as Jang’s ghost did. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Would our luck worsen over time if his ghost wasn’t laid to rest? How would it impact the ship’s mission, or my own?
Helpfully, the repair crew wasn’t around; they must have been on break. The restricted area had been marked off with red tape—red for good fortune, even though the color looked like the bright splash of new blood. I approached slowly, being careful of how I placed my feet. Despite my best efforts, my ankle twisted and I fell across the tape.
I shut my eyes, panting. This close to the broken meridian, I could feel the energy flow like a knot in the pit of my stomach. Now I really did have a bellyache.
I heard footsteps approaching from behind. Getting caught here wouldn’t do me any favors. Wincing in pain, I levered myself up, then glanced around. I saw a supply closet door and didn’t have to think twice. I palmed it open and found emergency suits hanging inside. I shoved myself in among them, trying not to gag at the overwhelming stench of metal and chemicals. Besides the footsteps, I now detected voices, one male and one female. Frantically, I yanked the door shut, grimacing at the noise it made. Had they noticed?
No one burst in on me, and the conversation continued.