Dragon Pearl(58)

Our ship’s internal comm channel crackled to life. “Ready,” the engineer said tersely.

The pilot stabbed the channel to the Pale Lightning closed in the middle of Captain Hwan’s answering tirade. I felt a vengeful glow of satisfaction, like when I had slammed the door on my mom’s lectures when I was a kid, except better, because this time I was going to get away with it. I hoped.

“Go,” the scholar breathed.

The pilot didn’t have to be told twice. He pushed the joystick again. I bit my tongue as the ship suddenly rocketed away from the Pale Lightning.

The battle cruiser opened fire on us. Our ship swerved, and the pilot grinned fiercely as his fingers danced over the controls. “Thank all the heavens for advanced electronic countermeasures,” he said.

He was jamming the missiles’ tracking mechanisms. I watched in tense fascination as the missiles swerved away from us, fanned out, then doubled back on the Pale Lightning. I caught my breath, not wanting the projectiles to hit the battle cruiser and hurt my friends.

My heart clenched. I wished there had been another way for me to find out what had happened to Jun. Could I have gotten help from Haneul and Sujin without lying to them about who I was and why I cared about him?

Too late now.

As we plunged through the silent cacophony of missiles exploding off our starboard bow, the Gate bloomed open before us, a hole of whirling pearly blue-violet light in the black depths of space. The colors captivated me despite the danger we were in. My breathing slowed in rhythm with the pulsing of the light.

The pilot whispered what I recognized as a spacer’s prayer that heaven would see us safely through the Gate. The scholar repeated it a heartbeat later. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the Gate’s swirls still appeared behind my eyelids. I was dazzled briefly by visions of dragons and tigers chasing each other across a sky in which lightning flickered and crackled.

With effort, I shook myself free of the Gate-visions. For a moment I wondered why my body felt so heavy and unfamiliar; then I remembered that I was still impersonating Captain Hwan.

Since I certainly wasn’t fooling anyone in the ship we’d escaped in (whose name I still didn’t know), I shifted back into my own human form for the first time in weeks. A sense of pressure I hadn’t even been conscious of eased from my bones. I couldn’t relax, exactly, but I felt more comfortable.

I’d forgotten I had an audience. The scholar, Chul, was watching me with intent, curiously bright eyes. “I’d heard the old tales,” he said, “but I never would have thought that a fox would care about terraforming.”

He was referring to the powers of the Dragon Pearl. Once, I would have snapped a retort, thinking of the way plants struggled to grow on Jinju, with its unrelenting dust and its infrequent rain. I didn’t trust Chul enough, though, to reveal anything to him about my past. I merely said, “Maybe foxes are more complicated than you think.”

The pilot cleared his throat, then called the engine room. “How soon before we can make another Gate, Sh—?” His eyes flickered to me; then he clamped his mouth shut.

Foxes didn’t have the ability to use people’s names against them, at least not that I had heard of, but I couldn’t blame the others for taking precautions. Chul hadn’t shown any concern over the fact that I knew his name, so I guessed I didn’t possess any magic in that area.

At first all I heard from the engineer was a clattering followed by a string of curses. Then she laughed breathlessly. I wondered if she was quite right in the head.

I peeked over at the pilot’s displays, silently thanking Lieutenant Hyosu for her lessons. I might not have the full training of a genuine Space Forces cadet under my belt, but I’d picked up the basics.

We had emerged not far from a star ringed by a massive planet, likely a gas giant where even dragons wouldn’t be able to survive without magical protection. Jun had taught me about such things when we were children, spinning stories of all the worlds we’d explore together. While I couldn’t see more than a faint ruddy disc in the scan display, I longed for Jun to be sitting in the cockpit, looking at the planet with me.

A station orbited the planet, and readouts indicated that ships were docking and taking off from there. A light flashed: The station was hailing us, waiting for a response. I glanced at the pilot, but he shook his head.

“All right,” the engineer said through a burst of static. The laughter had drained from her voice. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

“All the news,” Chul said.

She snorted. “The good news is that we can manage two more jumps.”

“And the bad?”

“That we can manage two more jumps.”

I thought furiously. “One jump to get us to the Fourth Colony,” I guessed, “and one to get us away. Then we’re stuck until we can recharge the Gate drive, and that’s when they can attack us.”

The pilot arched an eyebrow at me. “Not bad,” he said grudgingly.

“We have to try it anyway,” Chul said, rubbing his eyes. “As much as I’d prefer to make a run for it, we made a bargain”—he eyed me—“and we’re out of money. If we succeed in retrieving the Pearl, we’ll at least be able to scare up a loan at whichever station we escape to.”

I fought back a spasm of disgust, not just because of his interest in the money, but because of my own. While it was easy for me to judge him, was I really much better? Chul sought wealth on behalf of the people depending on him. I was doing the same thing, just on a different scale. Sure, I could talk about bringing prosperity to Jinju, but I longed for some of that prosperity for my own family. My mind flashed back to Nari’s luxuriously appointed office in the gambling parlor, and how I had thirsted to have something like that for myself.