Everyone sat up straighter. It seemed that this was everyone’s first time, which was a good thing—my lack of experience wouldn’t be as obvious. Besides, I was dying to see how well I would do, even if it was “just” a sim.
Hyosu briefly explained how the simulator worked. It tested how a pilot and a gunner would cooperate in a battle situation. The targeting system sounded similar to the Red Azalea’s: The gunner designated target priorities, and the computer did the rest. Put that way, it sounded deceptively easy. But after my battle experience on the freighter, I knew better than to take the job for granted.
“It’s almost as good as the real thing,” the lieutenant said, “except you don’t die if you mess up.” Then her tone became serious. “Remember, I’m recording everything you do so I can help you improve.”
A door from the wardroom opened into the sim chamber. Hyosu had shown us holos of the Pale Lightning’s bridge, and the room resembled the area where the pilot and gunner sat, except this was grimier. I wrinkled my nose at the reek of nervous sweat that emanated from it, coupled with the harsh smell of disinfectant, which, for a fox, never canceled out scents—it just served to further irritate the nose.
Hyosu paired me with one of the gossipy girls from lunch. Her name was Gyeong-Ja. She didn’t look happy about being separated from her friend.
“Hello,” I said. “What’s your preference, pilot or gunner?” I figured that was a safe topic.
She laughed. “Pilot, of course! I want to be a navigator, and I’m good at the math.”
That suited me fine. I would much rather try my hand as a gunner.
Gyeong-Ja sneaked a nervous glance toward Haneul and Sujin, who’d been assigned to each other, then lowered her voice. “Do you find them easy to work with?”
“They’re pretty nice,” I said. “Haneul snores, though.”
Gyeong-Ja grinned. “Dragons! I guess they can’t help themselves.”
We were up next. We climbed into our seats while Hyosu scolded the exiting pair about their inability to work together. I resolved not to make the same mistake, even if I wasn’t thrilled about being partnered with someone who didn’t like supernaturals.
Gyeong-Ja and I strapped ourselves in and adjusted the seats so we could reach the control panels. I wondered if the real panels on the bridge were all scratched up like these.
The overhead illumination dimmed as Gyeong-Ja’s fingers flew over a series of buttons. All the lights turned blue, and the chamber hummed in a way that reminded me of the Red Azalea’s engines. “Preflight check looks good,” she reported.
Hastily, I inventoried the weapons, which ranged from lasers to missiles and mass drivers that used electromagnetism to fling metal projectiles. I had blue lights across the board—blue lights for heaven, as Byung-Ho would say—and I hoped Hyosu wasn’t about to hit us with inventive equipment failures.
An alarm screamed. “Incoming!” Gyeong-Ja cried, and she began listing coordinates as her hands triggered evasive maneuvers.
I could see the enemy on my own displays. “Got ’em,” I said, before realizing that was too informal. “I mean, acknowledged.” I remembered that the session was being recorded for Hyosu to review, and I winced.
The targeting system showed two hostile fighters. I checked the tactical scanner, which told me the ships had identical capabilities. I marked the closer one as the priority—it would be best to concentrate my lasers and take it out of the fight first. If I shot at both of them haphazardly, both would be able to return fire and do more damage in the long run.
The fighters, fast-moving red blips on the display, swooped and soared. The blips formed green afterimages behind my eyelids. I was almost hypnotized by the complex patterns my chosen target was tracing. As it accelerated away and its partner darted in to attack us, I realized just in time what was happening: The first ship had been a decoy, distracting me with its fancy maneuvers! I called a warning to Gyeong-Ja, who rolled us out of the path of some missiles. I overrode the priority system and let loose a salvo of antimissile fire, then engaged the lasers. They connected, and the second fighter tumbled away. The original target fled, and I couldn’t help feeling disappointed that my prey had escaped.
A chime sounded and the lights came back up to tell us that the scenario was over. I found myself soaked in sweat. Gyeong-Ja didn’t look much better.
We emerged from the seats, blinking at the bright lights. Hyosu beamed at us. “You two work well together,” she said. “Jang, your reaction time is the best it’s ever been. Good job!”
I hadn’t stopped to consider that Jang would have slower reflexes than me, but it made sense—he was a human, and I was a fox. Fortunately, Hyosu hadn’t leaped to the conclusion that I was an impostor. So far, so good.
Gyeong-Ja and I stood to the side of the chamber while the next group of cadets underwent the exercise.
“Not bad, eh?” I whispered, still glowing from Hyosu’s praise.
“Nice to see you actually try for a change,” she said with a sniff.
I felt insulted on Jang’s behalf. I nudged her with Charm and took a gamble. “I bet Cadet Jun would have been great at sim.” After all, he had good reflexes, just like me.
“That dirty deserter?” Gyeong-Ja said. “I can’t believe he ran off with the others like that.”
The others? I thought Jun was the only one missing. I knew that investigator wasn’t telling the truth!
Who were the rest? If only Jun had named the “friends” in his message . . . Perhaps that was a clue in itself. Had “the others” threatened him so he’d had no choice but to go along?
I started to ask Gyeong-Ja for specifics, but then I caught Hyosu frowning at me. I’d mistakenly assumed she was busy giving feedback to another pair of cadets.
“If you pay attention, instead of distracting classmates with your gossip, you might learn a thing or two, Cadet,” Hyosu said.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said contritely. So much for that opportunity.
Disgusted, Gyeong-Ja edged away from me. I wouldn’t be getting any more information from her.
While I was confident my brother had no reason to go AWOL, I couldn’t say the same for whomever he had fallen in with. If I learned more about them and their motives, that might lead me to Jun. Unfortunately, I wasn’t having any luck wheedling information out of the other cadets, not yet. It was time to talk to Jang.
After lessons, I was assigned to scrub a bulkhead next to a maintenance shaft. As soon as no one was in sight, I whispered, “Jang! Where are you?”
No answer. Where did ghosts go when they weren’t haunting, anyway? That was one thing my aunties’ lore hadn’t covered.
But after a few moments, a cold breeze swirled nearby, unnatural in the controlled environment of the starship, and I shivered. Jang materialized next to me, his long, unkempt hair at odds with his neatly pressed uniform. He looked at the sponge in my hand and smiled ironically. “Having more trouble than you expected?”
“There’s so much to learn,” I whined. “Where do I even start?”
“You can always access the cadet handbook from any of the workstations in the barracks,” Jang said.
“That’s good to know, thank you,” I said sincerely.
“But don’t waste too much time studying,” said Jang. “You’re supposed to be looking into what happened to me, remember?”
His eyes glowed. Was I imagining it, or had the temperature dropped further?
“Yes, yes, of course,” I assured him. “I’m on it.” Then I thought of a way to get what I needed. “Maybe your mission had something to do with the disappearance of that cadet, Jun . . . ?”
“I don’t think—” Without finishing his sentence, he vanished.
I looked around frantically. “Wait! What were you going to say?”
An officer was looming above me. She cleared her throat. She did not look impressed.
I snapped to and saluted, but it was too late.
“Lost in a daydream, Cadet?” the officer asked, scowling. “Weren’t you the one who was cleaning the bathroom earlier? Perhaps you need to stick to that until you figure things out.”
I suppressed a sigh just in time and instead said, “Yes, ma’am.”
Each time I cleaned the toilets, I got a little faster. I had to, as a defensive measure. As soon as I finished, I headed back to the barracks and straight for an unoccupied workstation. One of the other cadets was lying in his bunk reading an old-fashioned book made out of real paper. I was dying to know what it was about, but I didn’t want to draw his attention. In any case, he didn’t look up as I passed him.
A holographic data screen appeared in front of me as soon as I sat down. Just when I was starting to worry about how to gain access to the system, the handbook popped up. I guessed they wanted it to be easily accessible to the cadets so they wouldn’t forget the rules. I skimmed it as quickly I could, hoping some of the information would stick. One part of the code of conduct leaped out at me: Anyone caught impersonating a Space Forces cadet or officer will face court-martial and, if found guilty, imprisonment or capital punishment.