Fever [Sunsinger Chronicles Book 5]

by Michelle Levigne

  “They're not going to a laboratory to be tested, you idiot! They're going to a hospital ship to be healed. That's all! None of the doctors or healers have the time to run tests.” Another growling sigh escaped her. “At least let me talk to Bain, make sure he's all right."

  “He's fine. He's just sleeping off the drug."

  “In a puddle,” Bain said. His voice chose that moment to crack and creak and waver through three octaves.

  “Did you hear that, Captain Fieran?” the man said. He turned around to face Bain and smiled at him. He gestured for the boy to take a seat, as casually as if they were good friends and not kidnapper and captive.

  “I heard. Bain, they took your collar link when they took you. Ganfer has no way of knowing how you are,” Lin said.

  “I'm sick to my stomach and dizzy and my eyes don't want to focus.” Bain settled into the chair. It felt good to sit down.

  “That will pass,” the man said.

  “He could have an allergy to your home-made drugs,” Lin retorted.

  “Then you'd better take that first load of my people to their new home and get back here quickly, Captain, so you can check on him. Snowder signing off.” He reached for the controls for the communications pack.

  “Snowder, don't—” Lin's voice stopped with a short, sharp click.

  For a long moment, Bain held perfectly still. He didn't look at Snowder, didn't even blink or breathe.

  “Now that the water is safe to drink again, how would you like a big, cold one?” Snowder said. Bain just stared at him, and the man let out a sharp bark of laughter. “You need food and liquid in your system to purge the last of the drug, son. You'll feel better in no time."

  He got up from his chair and beckoned for Bain to follow him. Bain knew he wouldn't be in any more danger if he complied, but he might find new trouble if he made his captor angry. He pushed himself slowly out of the chair and stumbled down the rough passageway after the man.

  “Uncle!” A little girl's voice echoed down the passageway, bouncing off the uneven walls and seeming to come from all directions. “Uncle!” Her cry turned into a shriek.

  “This way, Dacia.” Snowder's easy stride turned into a fast, long-legged jog.

  Bain didn't even try to keep up. He leaned against the wall and watched the man run away from him. Then a little blonde girl in a faded red jumpsuit hurried around the corner and nearly ran into the man. He went to his knees and caught her before she fell and set her upright on her feet.

  “What is it?” He grasped her shoulders and looked directly into her face.

  “Gorgi threw up,” the child whimpered. She stuck her fingers in her mouth and chewed on them and did a little dance of impatience on the uneven stone floor. The man just stared at her for a few seconds.

  “I thought they were safe down here,” he said, loudly enough for Bain to hear. Snowder glanced over his shoulder at the boy. “That plague of yours is even down here. How do you like that?"

  “It's not my plague,” Bain felt compelled to say. “It's the Mashrami's plague and I don't like it at all."

  His words earned a ragged, brief chuckle from Snowder. He picked up the little girl and cuddled her close, then came back down the hall to meet Bain.

  “Come on,” he said, taking hold of the boy's arm. “It's time for you to meet the rest of the kids."

  Bain bit back a longing to say that he wasn't a kid—he was a Spacer and crew, the best crew Lin Fieran ever had. He didn't, though. As long as his captor was inclined to be kind, Bain didn't want to ruin the situation by arguing.

  Snowder led him around the corner. Ten steps later, the passageway opened into a cavern carved by nature from the rock. Bain saw places where the rock was smooth and rounded, where erosion had eaten away at the stone; other places were rough, where cataclysm had shattered the rock. Sharp chunks of stone and hunks of rubble lay in depressions and crevices where they had either fallen or been shoved to make room for the living quarters.

  Bunks lined the walls, with makeshift dividers of crates and curtains between every three or four bunks. A huge tank sat in a wide crevice, with five taps along the rounded end. Bain saw clear liquid dripping from one tap into the shallow basin set underneath and guessed the tank held water. Tables and chairs and ragged rugs were scattered over the rough stone floor of the cavern. Children played in groups or worked at the tables or slept on the bunks.

  “Where is he?” Snowder asked Dacia. The little girl shook her head and hid her face in the man's shoulder. “Morna?” he shouted. His voice echoed off the jagged ceiling and startled some of the children into silence. They sat back from their games and studies and watched.

  Bain stood up straight and clenched his fists as he felt their gazes move over him, studying him. He had never felt like a stranger, an intruder before as badly as he did right now, in front of people his own age.

  “Over here,” a woman called. A hand stuck out from behind a screen and waved, beckoning them over.

  Snowder didn't let go of Bain's arm and nearly dragged the boy over to the bunks behind the screen.

  A boy a few years older than Bain lay on his back on the bottom bunk. His face was flushed with fever, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth open as he took short, ragged, gasping breaths. The woman, Morna settled back onto her knees next to the bunk and wiped at his face again with a damp cloth. The boy pushed it aside, mumbling something Bain couldn't hear clearly.

  Both boy and woman had long faces and wide shoulders, blue eyes and platinum, thick, curly hair cropped short. Bain supposed they were mother and son, or at least very close kin. He remembered times when he had fevers and threw up, and his mother had stayed by his bed and wiped his face with cool cloths, just like this.

  “I can help,” he said.

  “You?” Morna turned around and looked him up and down. “What can a boy like you do to help? I hear this is a gift from the Mashrami."

  “It is.” Bain looked at Snowder. The man met his gaze for five long heartbeats, then nodded and released his arm. “The Fleet's scientists have been working on vaccines.” He opened his jacket and dug inside for the hidden pocket.

  Bain froze, terrified for a moment that he had been searched and the vaccine capsules taken just like his collar link. Then he felt the spray injector and the protective plastic box holding the capsules. He bit his lip against a relieved grin, and opened the pocket.

  “I thought you said taking the boy was a spur-of-the-moment decision,” the woman said, glaring at Snowder.

  “It was.” Snowder didn't look at all surprised at the sight of the injector or the clear red gel capsule Bain slid into the prep chamber.

  “Then why is he prepared?"

  “When you're fighting the Mashrami, you have to be ready for everything,” Bain said. He glanced at the man, then the woman. Neither one moved or gestured to give him permission. Swallowing hard, he stepped over to the bed.

  “Wha's ‘at?” the boy, Gorgi mumbled.

  “Medicine.” Bain tried to smile. The truth was, this was the first time he had actually done this to a person. He gently tipped Gorgi's head to the side, exposing his neck, and pressed the injector's tip against the big vein coming down behind the jaw. It hissed and the other boy flinched.

  “Cold!” He tried to twist away. Bain held him flat in the bunk.

  “It'll probably take a while to work,” he said, turning to look at Snowder again. “I mean, he's already sick. It's not bad yet. Throwing up is ... mild,” Bain said after a moment's hesitation. He tried to remember all the things Dena had told him about the different stages of the sickness, during all their quiet hours traveling to colonies from the Mercy.

  “Mild.” Morna snorted. “What's harsh, then?"

  “Bad fevers and sweating so bad you make puddles in the blankets in half an hour, and you hallucinate and all your muscles cramp up and everything hurts. It's really bad when you go unconscious.” He decided not to tell them that when a patient lost consciousness, it was nearly
always too late.

  “You have a lot of experience with these Mashrami plagues, huh?” Snowder looked at him with narrowed eyes. Bain didn't like the feeling that the man hadn't really considered him a person until then—he was just a tool, a pawn to make Lin agree to his demands.

  “Not a lot.” Bain couldn't guess what the man wanted, but he knew he would avoid trouble later if he was completely honest now. “I talked with the medics and I helped in the hold when we were transporting sick people to the hospital ship."

  “You've been vaccinated, then?” Morna asked. She reached for the spray injector. Bain hesitated a moment before giving it to her.

  “They'd be stupid not to take precautions, if they're going to insist on taking sick people off-planet,” Snowder said with a snort.

  “Gonna get sick?” little Dacia asked, breaking her silence since the man picked her up.

  “Well, will she?” Morna asked Bain.

  “How should I know?” Bain's voice cracked and skidded through a whole octave.

  Now, he was scared. He had a sudden mental image of Snowder and Morna putting him in charge of all the sick children in this cavern. Or worse yet, they would put him in charge of making sure no other children got sick.

  “How many doses of vaccine do you have?” Snowder asked. He didn't wait for Bain to reply, but snatched the box out of his hand and counted the gel capsules. “Not enough for all of us."

  “You should vaccinate anybody who's had contact with him in the last fifteen hours,” Bain said, pointing at Gorgi. He knew that much, at least. “It takes about five hours for the virus to incubate and become infectious, and show visible signs. That's if it's a bad variety,” he added.

  “What if it's not a bad variety?"

  “Keep everybody as far apart as you can and wash everything with boiled water and disinfectant and make sure there's lots of fresh air and fresh food.” Bain swallowed hard and braced himself. “You should call my captain and ask her for vaccine for everybody."

  “Right.” Snowder snorted and shook his head. “Just tell her where to bring it. Give her our address so the Rangers can swoop in and shoot us to pieces."

  “Rangers don't shoot anybody."

  “We're the misfits, boy. Nobody wanted our parents and grandparents, and nobody will want us now."

  “I don't see any mutations.” Bain gestured around the room at the children.

  “It's the chance of mutation that makes people want to destroy us and take away our futures.” He put Dacia down. “Morna, put him to work. Check everybody for sickness if you have to. I have things to do.” He stalked away.

  * * * *

  Morna set up an examination room in one of the sleeping alcoves. She had Bain show her how to use the spray injector. She vaccinated herself, first, then had the children come in one by one for a thorough physical exam. Anyone showing aches or fever or complaining of headache or nausea went into one holding area. The children who showed complete health went into another.

  Three children were flushed with fever when they walked into the room. Their feet dragged on the floor and they sweated so their hair clung to their heads and their shoulders slumped. Morna injected them immediately and didn't bother examining them.

  By the time one of the older, healthy girls brought a lunch tray for them, every child had been examined and eight ended up in quarantine with Gorgi. Bain was told to stay with them.

  “You might as well be useful while you're here,” Morna said. She smirked when she said it.

  “If they get more sick, they won't be any good as guards,” Bain said.

  All eight children were already curled up under their covers on the rearranged bunks. Bain didn't really mind being told to watch over the sick children, unless they started throwing up or hallucinating or tried to run away. What he minded was that six of the eight were girls, and Gorgi was the only one anywhere near his age. No one to talk to, nothing to study, no projects to work on.

  Lin had always told him, when he was in trouble he had to keep busy so his mind wouldn't dwell on the problem until he turned crazy. Being kidnapped was trouble, definitely. Bain knew Lin would find a way to get him free, but he also knew it could be a long wait. He didn't like waiting, even when he was safe.

  “We'll see how good that vaccine really is,” she said, nodding. Her eyes sparkled like Toly Gaber's when the bully was about to play a nasty trick on defenseless smaller children. “Don't even think about trying to run away. Our tunnels aren't connected to the colony. You have to go above ground and cross the river before you get anywhere near the colony."

  “Oh.” He tried not to feel any more afraid than he already was. It was hard. His stomach tried to twist into a knot.

  “Go sit down and eat your lunch.” She gave him a nudge in the small of his back, aiming him for the table in the alcove. “You have to keep up your strength until your captain comes back for you."

  Bain chose not to say anything. It bothered him that adults could be nasty bullies worse than Toly Gaber. He sat down and reached for the tray and tugged it closer to himself. The soup was mostly beans with a vegetable broth, gone cold, and a gritty, spicy bread that was dry at the edges. Bain ate everything. He had to keep up his strength, after all.

  * * *

  Chapter Eight

  Bain jerked awake and nearly fell off the bench where he had been sitting. How long had he been asleep?

  The last thing he remembered.... He couldn't remember what he had been doing, besides sitting at the table and wishing he had something to read.

  His head hurt, in the middle of his forehead and his temples and at the base of his neck. Bain pressed both hands to his temples to rub, as Lin had taught him for pain relief. He stopped short when he felt the heat radiating from his forehead.

  Terror choked him and made his heart race. Bain closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths to calm down. He wasn't allowed to get sick. How could he escape whenever he got the chance, if he was sick? He couldn't take deep, slow breaths. His lungs kept trying to suck in short, fast breaths.

  Concentrate. Lin had always told him he could accomplish anything if he concentrated and tried his best and thought about what to do before he tried it.

  His breathing slowed down. Gradually. Bain grinned and kept his eyes closed and concentrated on listening to his heart and his breathing.

  Bain felt a chill creep over his body, made worse by the sweat pouring down his back under his shirt. He shivered and wrapped his arms hard around himself. When that didn't help, he opened his eyes and got up and stumbled across the little room to yank a blanket off an empty bunk.

  The other children were all asleep. Bain envied them. He wanted to lie down on the bunk and sleep, too, but the bunks were too close together. Those children had the Mashrami plague. He didn't. Not a plague. Something else. Maybe he was just achy from lying on that damp cave floor for hours before he woke up.

  That was it. Bain smiled and imagined his headache had begun to fade already. He wrapped the blanket around himself and curled up on the bench, leaning against the table.

  Bain blinked and looked up to see Snowder towering over him. When had he come in?

  “What's wrong with him?” the man asked, talking over Bain's head to someone.

  Bain tried to turn. His whole body ached, his joints frozen and his muscles stiff and hot.

  “Looks like he caught something,” Morna said. She got up from checking on Gorgi and the other sick children. “They're doing a little better, I think.” She stepped over and brushed the back of her hand against Bain's forehead. “Low-grade fever. Whatever he's got, it isn't what they've got."

  “Could have told you that,” Bain grumbled. He winced. Even his throat hurt.

  “If he's sick, he won't be running away any time soon,” she added. “Here. You might as well get into bed with the rest of them.” A snort of laughter escaped her when she nudged Bain to get up and he resisted. “What's the matter, Spacer boy? Afraid of catching something? W
hat about your vaccine? Don't you trust it?"

  “I trust it.” He scooted forward on the bench, out of her reach, and stood up.

  Bain turned to look at the sick children. The girls were all grouped together in one line of bunks. There was an empty bunk, both beds, between the girls and the boys, and an empty bunk on the outside of the row, next to Gorgi. Bain chose that bunk. If he was going to be sick, he might as well be by somebody his own age. Maybe when they were both feeling better, they could talk.

  Through the rest of the day and the long night, Bain slept fitfully. He would close his eyes, sleep a few minutes, then a new ache in his muscles woke him. He opened his crusty, aching eyes and roll over and look around the room. Nothing had changed. Then he would tug the blankets back up under his chin and try to fluff up his ragged pillow, and fall back asleep. Bain lost count of how many times that happened. The lights dimmed after a while, so he assumed it was night. How else could they tell day from night underground? Then the lights were turned up again.

  The sixth time Bain woke up, he realized he didn't feel quite so achy and his face didn't feel quite so hot.

  “Told you so,” he whispered, though there were no adults nearby to hear him. He knew he hadn't caught any of the plagues. It was something else. Something stupid and simple.

  “Told what?” a scratchy, low voice asked. Blankets rustled in the bunk next to him. “Who're you?"

  “Hmm?” Bain pushed down the blankets and sat up and rubbed at his eyes.

  Gorgi sat up, frowning at him, blinking and rubbing at his eyes. He looked at Bain, then around the sleeping room at the other children. Nobody else moved.

  “How do you feel?” Bain asked.

  “Hungry.” He rubbed at his face. “I've been sick, huh?"

  “For a while.” He debated telling the other boy that he had the plague. Bain wasn't sure how much longer it would last in Gorgi. Another few days, at least, if he had been injected early enough.

  “How'd you get down here? Nobody is supposed to know about this place. The Rangers could come down and drag us all away and throw us in jail if we're not careful."