Tiger Honor, page 20
Then a smell intruded on my dream. Normally this wouldn’t have bothered me, except it didn’t match my agreeable surroundings. It wasn’t the sweetness of sun-warmed grass, or the nearby water, or pollen drifting upon the wind. (I was lucky I didn’t have allergies like Aunt Sooni.) It smelled like…fear? And not in the appetizing manner of prey, either.
My eyelids cracked open. The light was wrong, too, the sterile, carefully balanced white of artificial light, rather than the warmer glow of the yellow sun I’d grown up beneath. “Where’s my sunbeam?” was the only thing I could think to mumble.
A face came into focus. Two faces. It took me a moment to identify them—Jee and Min.
“You’re awake!” Jee cried, and then crushed me in a painful hug.
My entire body ached, as though I had pulled all my muscles. I squawked in protest. “Sunbeam?” I asked wistfully. And why did my voice sound so weak?
Min’s eyes widened. The alarm wafting from her intensified. “Oh no,” she groaned. “Where did that medic go?”
“I was dreaming about a sunbeam,” I said, realizing that she thought I was befuddled or worse, had a brain injury.
Then memories of what had happened before I lost consciousness swept over me. I struggled to sit up and had to be restrained by Jee and Min. “Hwan!”
“It’s all right,” Min said rapidly. “He brought you to sick bay himself, then turned himself in. Captain Chaewon had just about recovered by then, so she and her security detail locked him up in the brig. And there he’ll stay until the Haetae can hand him over to the authorities for his court-martial.”
Hwan had taken down his own coconspirators to save me. Or, perhaps more accurately, in revenge for them attacking me. Only he knew the truth of it. It wouldn’t redeem him in the eyes of the court. But at least I knew that the uncle I had grown up loving and admiring wasn’t entirely dead, even if I never saw him again. That would have to suffice.
“Is he…” I swallowed, gathered myself. “Is he physically all right?”
Jin looked at me strangely. “Sebin, he attacked you. More than once.”
“He’s still my uncle,” I said. And he hadn’t been able to kill me after all.
To my surprise, Min nodded, and I felt an icy breeze brush my face as her ghost brother manifested for a moment, like a shape unfolding out of shadow. “I know what that’s like,” she said. In the harsh light her face was sober. “Even—even people like Hwan have families. I never stopped to think about that before.”
She’d been about to say something other than people. Maybe monsters, or villains. Not so long ago, I would have described Min as one of those myself. It was funny how experience turned things inside out, and not always in comfortable ways.
“I’m glad you still have yours,” I said, looking at Jun.
He smiled and ducked his head.
“Thanks to your help,” Min agreed. “As well as Shield’s greediness. When we found him locked in that bathroom, he had licked that ration tray clean.”
I laughed a little, and it hurt. “What about the ship?” That should have been my first question. I imagined it was the primary thing Captain Chaewon had inquired about after she came to, although I doubted I’d ever get to ask her about it.
“Jee messed up the Gate drive so thoroughly we’re undergoing repairs,” Min said wryly.
“It’s what you told me to do, Sebin!” Jee protested. “The captain said I have a future in sabotage. It…I’m not sure it was a compliment.” His mouth pulled to the side in a rueful half smile.
“You did the right thing,” I said. “It was a desperate situation.” Another thought occurred to me. “What happened to the shaman and her dog?”
Min’s expression turned sly. “For some reason she’s obsessed with reciting bad limericks over and over. At least it keeps her out of trouble. And everyone’s taking turns feeding Shield. He practically has a fan club.”
“The Haetae’s not in danger now, is it?” I asked.
A shadow fell over me. I turned my head to see its source and my eyes widened—Captain Chaewon, her arm in a sling. Jee saluted, somewhat sloppily. I’d never gotten a chance to show him how to do it properly. Min bowed deeply, which still bothered me even though she wasn’t a member of the crew. I struggled once more to sit upright.
“At ease,” the captain said dryly. “You’re injured. You look like they’ve started digging your grave and they’re just waiting for you to roll into it.”
Her bluntness took me aback. Did I really look that awful? “Yes, sir,” I said.
“Tell me in your own words what happened,” Captain Chaewon said. “From the beginning, for the record.”
Of course. The captain would want my statement not just to evaluate my conduct—I winced just envisioning the consequences to come—but to aid in the court-martial of my uncle. I doubted any of the mercs would cooperate, assuming they’d survived, and the shaman didn’t fall under their jurisdiction. Besides, other than Hwan and the mercs, I’d been the only eyewitness to that final confrontation.
My mouth had gone dry. I gulped. Before I had a chance to ask for a glass of water, Captain Chaewon gestured to someone standing to the side, and they brought me one. I murmured my gratitude and drank deeply, using the time to gather my thoughts, then began recounting everything from the beginning.
Partway through the account, my stomach growled loudly. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten anything but that purloined chocolate-marshmallow pie. How much time had elapsed since I was last conscious? It seemed like a bad time to ask, though. Heat rushed to my face as my belly continued rumbling. I ignored it as best I could, knowing that I had a duty to give the captain my full report no matter how ravenous I was.
At last, Chaewon asked, “Do you avow that this is your full and accurate report of your service aboard the Haetae and your actions regarding the traitor Hwan?”
“I do,” I said, as firmly as I could. I fought down a surge of nausea. You’ve just ended your career.
Even if I hadn’t sworn the oath to the Space Forces, though, I had a duty. And I was going to complete it. I could find another future. I didn’t know what that would look like—I’d always assumed that I would follow in my uncle’s footsteps—but I’d have a lot of time to figure that out.
Captain Chaewon looked me up and down, her face unreadable. Then she nodded. “Get some rest,” she said, as if I hadn’t already been doing just that. She turned on her heel and left.
I stared at her retreating back, numb. Was that it? What was to become of me during the rest of my time aboard the Haetae? Granted, it didn’t sound like I’d disgraced myself so badly that she was going to drop-kick me out of an airlock. I suspected I’d be offloaded as a witness when she handed over Hwan to the authorities.
Jee’s voice interrupted my glum musings. “Hey, Sebin,” he said, waving a hand in front of my face until he had my attention. “Everyone in sick bay can hear your stomach growling. You want me to get you something to eat?”
I was too hungry to turn him down. “Yes, please.”
He hurried off.
Min patted my shoulder. “You should have told him to get you real food, not the rice gruel that they feed invalids.”
“I don’t care what it is as long as it’s edible,” I said fervently, then wondered if I was going to live to regret my words.
“As long as you don’t eat me, I don’t care.” She winked.
“How are the others?” I asked.
“Euna had some blisters from standing in the way of too much stunner fire,” Min said, “but the medic applied synthetic skin and gave her painkillers. She’s already been discharged. Jee you know about. He was smart enough to barricade himself in the engine room—he got the hatch working again—and not come out until Captain Chaewon personally ordered him to stand down.”
“Namkyu?”
Just as I spoke the other cadet’s name, they swept into view, bearing a tray that smelled tantalizingly of seaweed soup and rice and gimchi. Jee accompanied Namkyu, smiling broadly. I restrained myself from lunging for the tray.
“I hear someone’s hungry?” Namkyu asked. They placed the tray easily within reach. “I’ve been kept busy assisting the medics. It’s the best hands-on training I could get, really. Even if they told me I couldn’t keep Guts where the patients could see it.” They chuckled.
I had already shoveled some rice into my mouth. I chewed hastily, swallowed, then asked, “How long have I been out?”
“No one told you?” Namkyu asked, fixing Min and Jee with a disapproving stare. “You were out for three days. We were starting to worry. Those stunners are nasty business if they hit you at close range. You got lucky.”
Come to that, my fingers and toes did feel stiffer than usual.
Namkyu saw me struggling to hold the spoon, and their mouth curled into a sympathetic smile. “You’ll need some physical therapy,” they added. “The good news is that, if you’re disciplined about it, you should recover in time.”
It could have been worse. I could be dead if Hwan hadn’t changed his mind, or if he hadn’t intervened against his own mercs. Besides, I’d spent all my life doing exercises of one sort or another. Physical therapy wouldn’t be much different.
“Thank you,” I said to Namkyu, and meant it. “What about Rokuro?”
Namkyu looked puzzled, but Jee knew who I meant. “Rokuro surrendered,” he said. “I vouched for them, so Rokuro’s under arrest in one of the guest cabins. They swore on their honor not to try to escape. When Captain Chaewon learned that Rokuro had helped us against Hwan, she agreed that they didn’t need to be tossed in the brig. She said that if they turn evidence against Hwan and renounce their clan, they might be able to claim asylum in the Thousand Worlds.”
I nodded my understanding, relieved that our ally didn’t have to suffer too much. I remembered my own stint in the brig, however brief, all too vividly. It hadn’t been so much the discomfort as the shame. If I was honest, it pricked at me still.
I was busy stuffing my belly, but Min, Jee, and Namkyu lingered, keeping me company. For a time I was content to relax in their company, and let my worries about the future fall away for later consideration.
Euna showed up not long afterward to check on me as well. I couldn’t tell she’d been injured at all. She passed me a hand-drawn card featuring a ridiculous cartoon tiger with a blaster in each of its four paws. I recognized her art style. “This is for you,” she said.
I opened the card. Inside it said, Get well soon. Okay, it may not have been the most original of messages, but still, it warmed me. All the cadets had signed it. “Thank you,” I said.
Euna studied me with a small frown. “You look worried.”
By then I had finished everything on the tray. I wouldn’t have minded another one. “Shouldn’t I be?” I blurted out. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.”
Everyone fell silent. I regretted my outburst. I’d thought I had better self-control than that, but the last few days had been difficult. I was more tired, more worn down, than I’d realized.
“Captain Chaewon is strict but fair,” Euna said. “You haven’t gotten to know her yet, but she’ll give you a chance.” She patted my shoulder. “You did a great job leading us, Sebin. She’s got to recognize that.” The others nodded their agreement.
I wasn’t so sure, but I tried to look optimistic for their sakes.
I heard frustratingly little about Captain Chaewon’s decisions for the rest of the voyage once the ship was repaired enough to continue onward. Then again, that would have been the case anyway. It wasn’t as though captains ordinarily confided in cadets.
If nothing else, I wasn’t under arrest the way Rokuro was. The captain allowed me to return to the cadets’ bunkroom. I started classes on the ship’s functions, which were so ordinary they almost made me long for the adrenaline rush that had come with fighting for my existence.
Is that how it began for my uncle? I worried. Did I share whatever flaw had corrupted him? I wanted to believe that the honorable man I’d thought I’d known hadn’t been a mirage. That he’d existed once upon a time. But Hwan himself was the only one who knew for sure.
I ran into Special Investigator Yi once in the mess hall. We’d dropped out of a Gate a day ago and were recharging the crystals. Yi had recovered from the drubbing they’d taken at the hands of my Charmed friends, to my relief. The investigator signaled for me to come over, so I did.
“I owe you an apology, Cadet Sebin,” Yi said.
I shook my head. “I didn’t always make the best decisions.” All the same, I wouldn’t have had to endure the hijacking of the ship, and what came after, if it hadn’t been for Yi’s distrust.
“You did when it counted,” they said. “That’s what mattered. You stood up to your uncle, and you helped put his partner out of commission.”
“What’s going to happen to Shaman Sena?” I asked. “I understand that the Space Forces don’t have jurisdiction, but she has to pay for her part in this, doesn’t she?”
“You can set your mind at rest on that score,” Yi replied. “Shamans regulate themselves, and I will be bringing charges against her on behalf of Domestic Security as well. It’s likely that she’ll have her shaman status revoked by her peers just in time to stand trial.”
I nodded, relieved that Sena wouldn’t be running around causing more trouble. Especially for Jun.
Finally, I decided to ask the question that had been eating at me all this time. “Special Investigator, why do you wear those yellow utility boots?”
Yi lifted a foot and waggled the toe of their boot, grinning. “Undignified, aren’t they? I wore them on my very first assignment for Domestic Security, a hair-raising affair involving a curse, and it netted me a promotion. I figure the boots bring me good luck.”
“Of course,” I said. I smiled, but I was reminded of how I’d lost the knife that Aunt Sooni had given me. Had that been an omen?
I ran into Min several times as well. “How can you tell when something’s right and when it’s wrong?” I asked her once. “When you do what you do?”
We were alone in the ship’s recreation room, placing black and white baduk stones on a board without making much pretense of paying attention to the game. Jun kept us company, amusing himself by putting his hand through the board. The chilly wind that accompanied him almost felt restful, like a reminder of winter’s repose.
She didn’t pretend not to understand that I was asking about Charm. “Believe it or not,” Min said, picking her words with care, “I never used to think about that. If I saw a way to get out of trouble, I used it. Sometimes it’s creative problem-solving, and sometimes it just makes the trouble worse.”
I considered that. “I guess it’s no different than being good at hacking, like Jee, or being stronger than humans, like goblins or us tigers, or having a medic’s skills, like Namkyu,” I said. “It’s all in how you use it.”
“I guess,” Min echoed. She fidgeted. “I’m not used to trusting people, but maybe everything would have gone better if I had. You…You’re not like your uncle.” Her mouth turned down at the corners, and she cast me an uncertain glance. “That last time, when you asked me to Charm you…That was really different.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I remembered that glow of inner certainty and how it had helped me face down Hwan. In a way, I wished I could have it back. But it wouldn’t have been right to ask her for it, not for selfish reasons.
“There’s nothing about it,” Min said, “in the lore of—of my people.” Her eyes darkened with thought. “It gives me hope that maybe I can help others…and I won’t always have to hide what I am.”
Three crew members entered the rec room then, and it was no longer safe to speak. I smiled at Min. I’d never considered what it was like for a gumiho, even a well-intentioned one, to live in secrecy at all times. I had hated the stigma against my family because of my connection to Uncle Hwan. It must be a hundred times worse to have to conceal something so fundamental about yourself. I’d have to remember that, even if I might never again be in a position to do something about it.
The days blurred into each other. I showed up for my physical therapy sessions on time every day. The medic who worked with me declared that she’d never seen anyone so diligent about it. I didn’t mind the exercises, which involved relearning fine motor control in my fingers and doing weird stuff like writing out characters with my toes. But I didn’t exactly want more of them, either, so I smiled and said I appreciated the help.
I went to my classes and studied with a single-mindedness that surprised even me. I’d always had good focus, but every time I looked out a viewport or walked through the starship’s corridors, I was reminded that this might be the last time I spent aboard a battle cruiser. I had to make the most of it while I was here.
Sometimes, when I was washing vegetables from hydroponics for the ship’s cook or scrubbing a bulkhead—tasks that the medic had approved—I thought about what I could do instead with my future. I didn’t want to give up entirely on my dream of serving on a ship. There were independent traders and miners. It wouldn’t be the same as being in the Space Forces, but I tried to convince myself that I could be content with life aboard a ship, any ship.
At the same time, I tried to avoid thinking about my family. Despite my efforts, my thoughts went to them anyway. Would I ever see them again? Even Uncle Hwan, though I knew what fate awaited him? And would Captain Chaewon allow me to say good-bye to him?
Worse, even if I did return to my family, would they want me anymore?
It came almost as a shock when I received a summons from Captain Chaewon. I’d known intellectually that we were approaching the main starport of Madang, fabled for its gardens, but it hadn’t quite sunk in that my time aboard the Haetae was nearing an end. I stared at the notice on my slate, then left the other cadets without a word and headed toward the captain’s office.
I saluted the captain and waited, silent, for her to address me.
“We’ll be docking in twelve hours,” Captain Chaewon said, regarding me with that imperturbable face. “I will be sending you to the base with an escort”—she must have seen me flinch, though I tried to cover the reaction—“for your own safety. After everything that’s happened, it’s necessary to take precautions.”
