Sujin winced at the thought.
“Go on,” the ensign said. “It’s a possibility we have to be prepared for.”
“If there’s a hull breach,” Sujin continued, “the ship is at risk of getting stuck in the Gate and never coming out again. That’s why we have to be absolutely certain the hull is in good shape before we Gate.”
“Correct,” the ensign said. “But sometimes you don’t have much choice.” His mouth twisted. “As long as the shields stay up, most battle cruisers are tough beasts. But if there is a shield malfunction and the ship is compromised by enemy fire, even minor hull damage can prevent a ship from Gating to another location for safety. And once it’s trapped, predators can move in.”
The ensign turned to me. “Cadet Jang, tell me another problem with being stuck in a Gate.”
“We can’t depart the ship,” I said. I’d been thinking about this ever since I’d heard of the deserters. “No extravehicular activity—no leaving on shuttles or in escape pods, nothing.”
“That’s right.”
Something didn’t add up. Jun and his comrades couldn’t have left while the battle cruiser was in a Gate. They would’ve had to plan their escape for sometime when the Pale Lightning was on patrol in normal space. But if the crew hadn’t been preoccupied with Gating, how did no one notice a departing shuttle? Was security that lax? And why did the captain leave the area instead of trying to retrieve and punish the deserters? Especially deserters who might have had information about the location of the Dragon Pearl . . .
What was going on?
I tried to concentrate on what the ensign was telling us about other navigational maneuvers, but it was almost impossible.
I needed different information—information he couldn’t provide—and I knew what I had to do to get it.
I had to get into the captain’s quarters. For the next several days, I planned my approach. I glided by his door a couple times whenever I found an excuse to be on the senior officers’ deck. The door had a lock, of course. Could I pick it without tripping an alarm? While locks weren’t my specialty, they couldn’t be much more difficult than any other electronic system.
The cadets’ barracks only had simple locks that opened in response to passcodes. Many of the cadets didn’t bother covering their hands when they punched in their numbers, and most of the crew was similarly trusting. By simple observation I had learned a scattering of passcodes all around the ship, even to areas where a mere cadet shouldn’t have access.
The senior officers’ deck was another matter. Their locks didn’t just have passcodes—they also required fingerprint identification. Ironically, the fingerprint was going to be the easiest part for me to get around. I didn’t have a lot of practice making tiny, subtle changes to my body, but I thought I could manage it.
“What do you want with that litmus film?” Haneul asked me when she caught me with a small roll of the stuff in Hydroponics. Watching Sujin use it to check the acidity of a nutrient solution had given me the idea. I bet the film would take impressions of fingerprints just fine.
I grinned at her and stretched a piece of it back and forth, like thin taffy. “I like playing with it.”
Haneul rolled her eyes. “Do you ever take anything seriously? And don’t try eating that. Technically, it’s edible, but it’ll taste awful.”
I mimed putting it in my mouth, and she made a face and walked away. Once she’d turned her back, I pocketed the roll, smoothing my jacket over it so it wouldn’t stick out too obviously. One obstacle down.
I didn’t get much time to celebrate, however. A little while later, just as I’d stashed the roll with my—Jang’s—personal belongings, an alarm went off. The blaring siren made it almost impossible to think. For a heart-stopping moment I thought that someone had unmasked me, and I jumped.
Then my brain caught up with the rest of me. Stealing litmus film would look weird but not suspicious. Not in the way I was worried about, anyway.
I tore off a couple strips of film and stuffed them in my pocket, then shoved the rest of the roll back with my stash.
Just then, Sujin ran in. “Come on!” they cried. “We have to get to our assigned stations.”
It was a good thing Sujin had come to get me, because I’d blanked on where my assigned station was. It didn’t take long for me to figure out we were headed toward Engineering, along with a cluster of other crew members.
“What’s going on?” I asked breathlessly as we hurried toward the elevator.
“Shh!” Sujin hissed.
The alarms quieted for a moment. I relaxed, but only for a second, because an announcement followed over the loudspeakers. “This is Captain Hwan.” I couldn’t tell whether the growl in his voice came from a fault in the speakers or his emotional state. Maybe both. “We un-Gated at Sycamore Station per our orders to survey the area. Unfortunately, it turns out that an unauthorized force of approximately ten ships has gathered here. All hands to battle stations.”
My stomach dropped. I wasn’t ready for this. I was just a stowaway!
“Ten ships?” I whispered to Sujin as we waited for the elevator to reach our deck. “That’s bad news, isn’t it?”
“It depends,” Sujin said, also in a hushed voice, even if no one was around to overhear us. The goblin smelled rank with dread. “Are they big ships? Little ships? Ships tricked out with upgrades from some rogue station?”
I was sorry I’d asked.
We made it to Engineering in record time. The moment we showed up, one of the warrant officers took us in hand. She told Sujin to help monitor the state of the engine. I didn’t envy that work, which was both tedious and important.
As for me, I was assigned to an engineer who was busy trying to put a hotfix on an unstable meridian before it became an issue.
I frowned. “I thought the broken meridian was on Deck Three,” I said.
“It is, but all the ship’s meridians are connected, and the damage has impacted other areas.” The engineer sighed. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” he grumbled. “Well, here’s your chance. Can’t say it’s not likely that you’ll make it worse.”
I bristled a bit but tried not to take his attitude personally. After all, there was a lot at stake. Everyone’s life depended on the ship staying in one piece.
“How bad is it?” I asked, thinking of all the warnings I’d heard in class, and the possibility that Jang might be the cause of the problem.
The engineer was silent for a moment. “I was hoping we’d have a good long spell to fix it before we had to gallop around the sector some more,” he said. “I was against Gating as much as we already have. If we have to Gate again in a hurry, it won’t be pretty. But the captain wants what the captain wants.” He shook his head.
“What do you need me to do?” I asked.
The engineer didn’t trust me with the master flows, of course. Some meridians were bigger and more important than others. He set me to work with the smaller, less crucial ones. “Don’t think it isn’t important,” he said when he saw my dismay. “It’s good practice, and luck in small matters builds luck in large matters.”
I took the seat he indicated. At first I had difficulty concentrating. I itched to be on the bridge so I could see what was going on outside the ship. Then I glanced over my shoulder at Sujin, whose station was across from mine. They were hard at work, and I felt ashamed. If they could do this, so could I.
In its way, redirecting flows was like sewing—gathering up the lines of gi and guiding them to their proper channels. When I’d mended clothes at home, my mother had often criticized the crookedness of my stitches, much to my annoyance. Here, I sweated to make the flows as even as possible.
In my imagination, the ten ships crowded closer to us. I listened for explosions, waited for the deck to shake beneath my feet. But no alarms went off; the ship sounded remarkably normal. I almost wished there were some evidence of the attack. It was hard to take it seriously when I was walled up in Engineering with no view.
Then I heard shouting and a string of curses. Sujin jumped back from their workstation, clutching their side. An enormous burning line of light had seared the goblin from the neck all the way to their waist, as though someone had slashed them with a whip of fire, severing their safety harness in the process. Sujin struggled to remain upright, then slumped to the deck, unconscious.
Without thinking, I rushed over to my friend. The status indicators in their station flashed a garish red. “Cadet Sujin needs help!” I cried.
“Take over Sujin’s work for now,” the engineering chief said tersely.