That first day aboard the Pale Lightning seemed to stretch on forever. While on my way to the restroom after inventory duty, I got an officer’s rank wrong and he assigned me toilet-scrubbing duty to “help” me remember. At least toilets, while smelly, didn’t care how I addressed them.

The battle cruiser had unisex bathrooms. Another cadet came in while I was busy working and did her business. With Charm I confused her enough that I could ask some quick questions about the Pale Lightning’s layout. She answered, all right, by using a grease pencil to draw diagrams on the floor I had just scrubbed clean. While she explained the elevators and their codes, I kept straining to hear if anyone else was about to come in. Luckily for me, no one did. After she left, I had to memorize everything before getting down on my hands and knees to erase it. By the time I was done, my back ached terribly.

From the outside, the Pale Lightning resembled a tube with a ring around its middle, which the ship spun when it had to generate artificial gravity the hard way. The ship’s levels were concentric cylindrical shells around that ring, which explained the curved passageways. A series of elevators connected the different levels, and there were backup maintenance shafts in case of power failure.

It was useful information. Unfortunately, learning it all meant that I reported back to the barracks late. I was thankful Haneul had let it slip that Jang slept in Bunk 12 in Barracks 5, like she and Sujin did, or I would have been even later.

The senior cadet in charge of Bunk 12 didn’t seem to care that I’d wandered in past lights-out; he waved me listlessly to the only empty bed. Sujin and Haneul were both asleep. If I hadn’t already figured out that Haneul was a dragon, her snoring would have given her away.

When Lieutenant Ju-Won swung by to check on us, I found out that the senior cadet had reported me for being late.

“You’re going to have to do better, even if you’re not feeling back to normal yet,” Ju-Won said to me as I slid under my sheets. And she assigned me more toilet scrubbing, starting two hours before mess the next morning.

Despite the fact that I could have used the extra hours of sleep, I did a better job of cleaning the bathroom the second time. I suspected I wouldn’t be sleeping in anytime soon, not while I was on this ship. But Jun had served on it, too, once. If he had survived the experience, so could I. Had he ever been unfortunate enough to be stuck with latrine duty? I wondered.

I kept hoping Jang would pop up so I could consult with him, but no such luck. Maybe he was discouraged by the fact that people kept coming in to use the restroom. He hadn’t seemed eager to reveal his presence to his former comrades.

Once I was finished with the cleaning, I washed myself up, then ran to the mess hall for our level, slowing down only when I heard others approaching. I thanked the ancestors for my fox senses, because the others were officers. Cadets were at the bottom of the pecking order, and anything I did wrong in the officers’ eyes might mean more demerits—and chores.

A wide door opened into the mess hall, which was filled with tables and benches bolted to the deck. I spotted Haneul first, thanks to her distinctive bluish hair, and hurried to take a seat across from her. Sujin was there, too, idly toying with their spork.

“Put that thing away,” Haneul told Sujin. The air around her felt staticky, like a thunderstorm was about to break out inside the ship. I made a note never to anger her. I didn’t want to get zapped by any lightning bolt she might summon by accident.

Sujin grumbled. “The food here’s terrible.”

“You didn’t sign on to be a restaurant reviewer,” Haneul said. “And you can’t magic up enough candy to make everyone happy, so it’s best you keep that opinion to yourself.”

The mess officer called us up by tables to collect our food. I got in line behind Sujin and Haneul, picking up a tray, chopsticks, and a spoon, all made of plain gray metal. The spoon handles were engraved with the Space Forces’ flower-and-spear emblem. The chopsticks featured an elongated version of the same thing.

A pair of girl cadets behind me whispered to each other as they cast sly glances at Sujin and Haneul. With my fox ears, I could hear them quite distinctly. “Don’t you think it’s weird how he’s hanging out with the supernaturals?” one of them was saying. “He’s just as human as we are.”

I realized with a shock that she was referring to me. I kept my expression neutral while continuing to eavesdrop, curious.

“Maybe he’s practicing his sucking up,” the other girl said snidely, “so he’ll be ready for the captain.”

The exchange left a sour taste in my mouth. What was their problem with supernaturals? Sujin glanced back at me when I fell behind, and I made myself smile reassuringly. Haneul and Sujin had been kind to me, and those girl cadets had no idea that I was really the lowest of the low, a distrusted fox.

I wondered if Jun had run into this kind of prejudice. Was that what had made him run away?

No, that couldn’t be it. I couldn’t imagine him ever revealing his true heritage, and Jang had been shocked to see me, a fox, on the ship. Besides, my brother wasn’t the sort to be discouraged by a few nasty remarks.

It was a relief to make my way back to our table. I was glad the two mean girls sat far from us. I was famished from all my exertion coupled with not eating much the day before. But Sujin was right—the food was dismal. Rice gruel with a few small pieces of abalone, underspiced gimchi, and oversalted fiddleheads. I did savor the abalone, which tasted like the real thing, not vat-grown protein. I’d had it once at a festival, as a treat, and I’d never forgotten the chewy texture and mild meatiness.

“What comes next?” I whispered to Sujin. “I know I should remember, but my head is still a little foggy. . . .”

Lieutenant Ju-Won hadn’t told me what to do after I finished with the toilets. I doubted that meant I could spend my time doing whatever I wanted. Until I saw a good opening to ask people questions about Jun, it would be best for me to keep trying to fit in.

“You’re in luck,” Sujin said brightly. “We have class with Lieutenant Hyosu. She said we’d learn about the weapons systems today.”

Considering how miserably I’d held up against the mercenaries on the Red Azalea, that sounded useful. Granted, a battle cruiser as large as this one would normally keep pirates at bay, but the fact that Jang had been critically wounded on his rescue mission told me we weren’t entirely safe, either. The more I knew about our defenses, the better. Besides, I had to stay in the mix. I’d promised Jang’s ghost I’d find out more about what had happened to him. And while I was at it, I could also listen for any gossip about people going AWOL, including a certain cadet.

The mess officer dismissed us by tables. In spite of myself, I felt a pang of homesickness. Sure, I’d had chores and lessons there, too, but I’d also had more freedom. Life on this ship was so strict, with rules for every little thing. I even missed squabbling with Bora over the best food scraps.

Stop complaining and do your best, I could almost hear my brother say. Jun had chosen this path, hoping to rise in the ranks and use his influence to help Jinju someday. I had always wanted to follow him into the Space Forces, and now I had, two years sooner than I was supposed to. But it was hard to care about that when I didn’t know where Jun was.

Twenty of us marched to the wardroom, where Lieutenant Hyosu, a woman with a round, friendly face and black-framed glasses, was waiting. She smiled at us, and I couldn’t help smiling back. “Hello!” she practically sang out when the last cadet had entered. “Go on, take your seats. Today’s the fun stuff.”

“You think everything’s the fun stuff,” Sujin said under their breath, although they were smiling, too.

Haneul rolled her eyes at Sujin.

Lieutenant Hyosu made us follow the rules, but she wasn’t too exacting about them, and she was a pretty good teacher. She introduced us to the Pale Lightning’s armaments, from its point defense system to its missiles and laser cannons. By the end of the lesson, my head ached from all the figures I had memorized. Not surprisingly, everyone else in the class was far ahead of me. As long as I was here, I’d have to study hard. The mercenaries had caught me unprepared on the Red Azalea. I didn’t want that to happen again.

“Here’s the part you’ve all been waiting for,” Hyosu said. “Simulator time!”

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.