Dragon Pearl(83)

Ji-Eun paled when she learned what had become of the captain. “I suppose there’s no helping it,” she said slowly. Her voice sounded strained, and I sensed that she mourned his loss. I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her, even if I didn’t miss him. “I’ll have to assume his duties until we’re assigned a new captain.” Her expression softened slightly when she said, “And I’ll see to it that Cadet Jang gets his military funeral.”

“What will happen to me?” I asked. “And the Pearl?” I gulped hard.

“From what I’ve been told,” the XO said, “the Pearl has declared you its new guardian.”

The orb pulsed and glowed a little brighter.

“That appears to be true,” she added.

I couldn’t help grinning. I stroked the Pearl affectionately.

“Given this awesome responsibility,” Ji-Eun went on, “and the fact that you are not a member of the Space Forces, we need to get you back home. Where is that again?”

“Jinju,” I replied. “But I can just catch a ride from the next station. I don’t want to be any trouble. . . .”

Ji-Eun burst into laughter. “No, not you, a stowaway who impersonated a cadet, sabotaged the ship, stole an escape pod, and cleared the Fourth Colony of all of its ghosts. You’re no trouble at all.”

I laughed then, too, more out of exhaustion and relief than anything else.

The XO pulled herself together and said, “Once we’re fully shipshape again, we’ll take you to Black Locust Station. We’ll arrange transportation for you from there.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander.”

She raised her eyebrow at that. “While I’m at it, it would no longer be appropriate for you to bunk with the other cadets.”

“I understand,” I said, though I was a little disappointed. “I’m not a member of the Space Forces, after all.” I’d completely blown any chance of getting in for real, something I’d been trying not to think about.

Ji-Eun nodded. “We do have guest cabins. I’ll have someone bring you meals. That will be the easiest way to keep the Pearl safe.”

Ji-Eun herself escorted me to the cabin and gave me the security code. I suspected she wanted to limit my movement around the ship as much as she wanted to restrict others’ access to the Pearl. I thanked her, then fled inside, expecting to be miserable for the rest of the ride to wherever we were going.

I set the Pearl gently in the bed and tucked the blanket around it. After I’d finished taking a shower and changing into a clean set of clothes that had been left for me, Jun reappeared in a corner of the room, shedding ghost-light.

“It’ll be okay,” he said.

I clamped down on the desire to throw something at him, partly because it wouldn’t do any good, partly because I wasn’t sure how I really felt anymore. How could you go and get yourself killed like that? I wanted to ask.

“Nothing turned out as we expected, did it?”

I wished he hadn’t come right out and said it like that. It was going to be impossible to keep secrets from him now that he was haunting me.

“I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to Mom,” I said, blinking away a prickling sensation behind my eyes. “And I’m going to lose that bet with Bora.”

“What bet?”

“I said you’d be home within the year. She said no way.”

“Well, we can’t have you losing a bet to Bora,” Jun said, with a hint of the old humor I remembered. “You didn’t say I’d come back alive, did you?”

I choked down completely inappropriate laughter.

“Let me tell Mom,” Jun said. His smile was wry. “I got myself into trouble. The least I can do is break the news.”

“We’ll do it together,” I said.

He didn’t argue with that.

We spent the next few hours talking. Some of it wasn’t very important. Jun laughed as I recounted the number of hours I had spent scrubbing toilets because I’d used the wrong salute when an officer showed up. He told me about his first weeks on the training cruise, and the buddies he’d made in the Space Academy. He described the pranks he pulled, like changing up the seasonings with Sujin in the galley. His stories made me even more sorry we’d both lost the goblin as a friend.

We discussed the endless chores we’d had to do back on Jinju, and how we’d taken turns putting the younger cousins to bed—and trying to make them stay there. We recalled the festival days in Hongok, when we’d bought taffy from the street vendors who clacked their scissors to advertise their candy. We reminisced about staying up late at night to tell each other about the constellations and the legends they represented.

None of it had changed, and everything had changed. It wasn’t just that Jun had died. We had traveled into a world of stars and magic and were bringing some of both back with us, just not in the way we’d hoped.

Toward dinnertime, a chime sounded. “Let them in,” I told the ship’s computer.

The door swished open. Haneul and Sujin stood there, their expressions anxious. Sujin held a tray with a cup of green tea, a bowl of rice, and some dismal-looking vegetables.

“The captain thought you’d like to see some familiar faces,” Haneul said as she slipped in. I had to remind myself that she meant the acting captain—Ji-Eun, not Hwan.