Dragon Pearl(42)

He was asking me to rat out pranksters. Fortunately, I didn’t know of any. “It’s just me, sir.” I kept my eyes downcast.

“Look at me, Cadet.”

I didn’t want to do it, but I couldn’t ignore a direct order from the captain. Looking him square in the eyes would have been too bold, so I settled for staring awkwardly at his chin.

“Do you think sneaking around is the best use of your training cruise?”

“No, sir.”

The captain was still peering down at me. What did he want?

Inspired, I burst out, “I—I also did it because . . . because I needed to be alone. I don’t want anyone to know how afraid I am.” I could feel my cheeks heating with the admission, which, again, was true. “I almost died on that freighter. . . .”

I hadn’t allowed myself to really think about it until now. I had gotten hurt on the Red Azalea. The grenade had knocked me out, left me helpless. Like Jang, I, too, could have died.

Hwan’s face changed. The expression in his eyes wasn’t sympathy, exactly—I doubted that a tiger felt sympathy often, if ever. It was more like a grim understanding. “The first time is always like that,” he said. “We can send you to all the classes in the world, but none of them will prepare you sufficiently for real battle.”

I took advantage of his change in mood, for Jang’s sake. “I still see the pirates in my dreams,” I said. 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 know the Dragon Pearl is valuable, but they shot me down like I didn’t even matter.”

“The stakes are higher than ever,” Hwan acknowledged. “Everyone thinks the Pearl is within their reach, and they will do anything to get it. Those pirates might have been working for the Dragon Society, which will pay a high price to maintain their monopoly on terraforming.”

“I could have died over that,” I said quietly.

“Yes. But you have to gain experience in the Space Forces sooner or later. The initial brush with death is always hard,” he said. “I wasn’t much older than you when someone first died in front of me.”

I kept silent, sensing that he wanted to tell me more.

“I’ll never forget it,” Hwan said. “It was my comrade, back in the early 1480s. If she’d lived, she would’ve made captain before I did. But the blaster burned her life short, and that was all there was to it.” He grimaced. “It was a completely unnecessary sacrifice on her part, too. By the time we fought that battle, the peace had already been negotiated. It was a secret mission, so we didn’t hear about the treaty until afterward.”

I shivered inside at the shadow of anguish in his eyes. But I remained wary. Was he trying to manipulate me the way I’d just tried to play him? If so, that meant he might know about me and Jang. I couldn’t let my guard down, no matter how authentic his story sounded.

“You’ll understand as you grow in your years of service,” Hwan said, sensing my discomfort. He nodded at me. “Go back to your bunk, Cadet.”

“Yes, sir.” I saluted and turned, suppressing my desire to run. The spot between my shoulder blades itched again as I walked away. I didn’t dare glance back to see if he was watching me or if he had returned his attention to the broken meridian.

My instincts told me that his story had been true. I’d never thought of the captain, or any officer for that matter, as someone who’d suffered their own losses. What did it feel like to hold command of a military ship? Did the captain grieve over every crew member who died?

Once the captain was safely out of sight and I’d ducked past the guards, I felt that familiar winter swirl of cold air around me.

“Not bad,” Jang’s voice said in my ear. I couldn’t see him. “He practically admitted that he knowingly sent me to my death.”

I looked around before replying. No one was there to hear me. “He knew the mission wasn’t safe at least,” I said. “And he mentioned the possible connection to the Dragon Society—did you hear that part?”

Jang’s ghostly form started to materialize, his long locks swaying as he nodded thoughtfully.

Seeing him reminded me to ask, “Are there other ghosts on this ship?” I had to get that out of the way.

His wispy face registered surprise. “Not that I know of. And especially not pirates. The ship’s shamans would have laid their spirits to rest to prevent them from cursing the Pale Lightning.”

So the XO had been right. Then something else occurred to me. “You wouldn’t do anything like that, would you? Curse the ship?”

“Of course not.” But the answer came after a pause.

By the time I thought to ask about his hesitation, Jang had vanished again.





Later that day, I shared a shift on the bridge with Sujin. Miraculously, the captain hadn’t reported me to Lieutenant Ju-Won. If he had, I would have been stuck with something much less appetizing, like scrubbing toilets again.

Lieutenant Hyosu had explained that we needed to be on our best behavior when we were on the bridge. “We hope this will never be necessary,” she had said, “but everyone needs to be familiar with how the bridge operates in case there’s an emergency and the rest of us go down. Of course”—she had grimaced—“if, as a cadet, you’re the last person standing on the ship, good luck. . . .”