Sunsinger

by Michelle Levigne

  He checked his clothes—no spots, nothing hanging out where it didn't belong. What were they laughing at? He checked his angle, pushed and flew to the hatch. Bain didn't look back as he hurried after Lin. He felt jealous stares from a few boys and girls. It felt good.

  Learning to be a Spacer was not easy. Bain had to learn the basics of navigation and how to read all the screens and all the flashing lights on the control board all at the same time. Lin showed him some games her father had used to teach her, handed down from the first parents who trained their children to take over their ship homes.

  First, Lin divided the board into sectors and taught him which lights and buttons and read-out panels had priority. Before he started, Bain thought any flashing red light had priority. Lin corrected that idea quickly.

  She told him about another ship, where someone ignored a yellow caution light on the fuel mix gauge to fix a flashing red on a cargo door control. The engine froze and the ship couldn't break orbit until the problem was fixed. Cargo doors, Lin explained, could be locked manually, the problem left alone until the ship had landed. Red lights did not always outweigh yellow cautions.

  After three days, no one teased Bain about his duties. Shari and her friends and the littles were the only children who still talked to him. Anyon and the Valgos talked to him, of course, but they were grown-ups. Bain played with the littles during free time after supper. No boys his age asked him to join their games.

  Someone invented a game where they took turns pushing off the bunk frame, to see who flew fastest and straightest and bounced back the hardest when they reached the end of their tethers. It looked like fun, but no one asked Bain to play. He kept busy telling stories to the littles so no one would see him watching.

  Bain refused to feel sorry for himself. He was training to be a Spacer, after all. No one sat around moping because he went to the bridge, did they? Still, the racing game looked like fun. Sometimes, it didn't matter that he had lessons on the bridge and wore a link collar so he could talk to Ganfer, and that he was better at navigating free-fall than anyone. Sometimes, Bain wanted to be just like the other children in the hold.

  He was so busy during the day, so much to do and see and learn that he usually didn't have time to feel lonely. Bain did feel lonely though, late at night, when friends whispered to each other in the dark hold. His bunk felt too big, and cold.

  Then Kisa got nightmares. She was a little, just out of diapers. Bain liked her the best. She had big blue eyes and curls so pale blond that her hair looked white. She listened when someone told her to stay in her bunk and be quiet, and she obeyed. She didn't throw her ball out of her bunk net thirty times a day, and then scream when someone couldn't get it back for her right away. She had a laugh like bells ringing on a bright, cool summer morning. She was Bain's favorite—during the day.

  At night, Kisa screamed louder and cried harder than three girls combined. Most of the children had nightmares the first night out, but then they weren't afraid of the dark hold after that. By the third night, Kisa still woke up crying, then screamed if no one came right away. One night, Mistress Valgo let Kisa sleep with her. The next night, she got up and held Kisa until the little girl fell asleep.

  The third night, Mistress Valgo only sat on the edge of Kisa's bunk and held the little girl's hand until she slept again. She got up and held Kisa's hand four times. The fifth time Kisa started crying, Mistress Valgo didn't wake.

  Bain woke up, though, and lay there with his blanket over his head, wishing Kisa would shut her mouth and go back to sleep. The little girl's bunk was one row below Bain's, and one stack over. Her voice was loud. Bain pressed his hands over his ears and he still heard her.

  “Make her shut up!” a boy yelled from the far end of the stacks.

  “Why don't you shut up?” Shari called back. “She's just a little, and she's scared.”

  Mistress Valgo woke, then. She turned on a little hand-held light and climbed up. Kisa's screams turned into hiccups. Mistress Valgo opened the netting and pulled Kisa out to sit on her lap. The woman looked tired; dark smears under her eyes, her shoulders sagging, her hair a tangle from her blankets.

  “Is she going to be sick?” Bain whispered. He leaned over the edge of his bunk and hung upside down to see. Kisa started sucking her thumb.

  “No. If she gets some sleep, we'll both be fine. I hope,” Mistress Valgo added, her voice turning into a sigh.

  “It can't be just bad dreams. When I have a bad dream, I don't have it again.” He shrugged and the movement pushed him a little out of his bunk. “At last, not right away.”

  “Well, I haven't thought it out that far.” She smiled a little. It made her look more tired. “What scares you, sweetheart?” She jostled the little girl a bit. Kisa rubbed more tears from her eyes.

  “Maybe she's scared of the dark?” Bain suggested. He remembered his first nights at the orphanage. Everything looked dangerous when the shadows and darkness changed their outlines.

  “Maybe,” Mistress Valgo said, nodding. “She's still little more than a baby, after all.”

  “Not baby,” Kisa grumbled. Her lower lip stuck out and trembled a little. Then she put her thumb back into her mouth and sucked on it, making more noise than before.

  “Do you need to take a walk?” The woman sighed and closed her eyes when the little girl nodded. The dark smears of weariness under her eyes seemed to get darker.

  “Want Bain walk me,” the little girl said. She held out her arms to him and smiled. Her curls were a mess and her face was wet. Bain didn't think she was cute anymore.

  He wanted to lock her in a cabinet and never look at her again. Thinking about leaving his warm cocoon of blankets made him ache. He wished he'd stayed under them with his hands over his ears. What if other boys woke up and saw him?

  He would look like a prize idiot, stumbling around the dark hold, trying to help Kisa walk in the exercise wheel. If he said no, Kisa would cry again. Probably louder.

  “Okay.” Bain slid out of bed and climbed down to Kisa's level. He held on with one hand and reached for her tether.

  Mistress Valgo pulled the rest of the tether out of the pocket inside the net and clipped it around Kisa's waist. The little girl squealed and pulled away. Mistress Valgo snatched at her and missed. Kisa kicked and squirmed and slid out into the open air.

  “No, no, no, no!” Kisa whimpered, as she sailed out of their reach, into the darkness of the hold. “Crawlies!”

  “Huh?” Bain grabbed the tether and started pulling her in. He could barely see the little girl, hovering in the air, still wiggling.

  “Crawlies,” Dr. Anyon said. He floated over from his bunk in the bottom row and stopped with a hand on a support bar. “Whatever that means.” He yawned and settled on the bar, so he could use both hands to help Bain pull Kisa back.

  “I think I know.” Mistress Valgo looked more awake now. She caught the coils of tether and tucked them under her leg, out of sight. “Kisa's parents had a farm overrun by crimson slithers. What if some got into the cabin and scared her?”

  “She wakes up in the dark, in an unfamiliar place, and feels the tether.” Anyon nodded. His mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. “The tether is rather cold and slick. It'd give me nightmares, too.”

  Bain tried not to stare. Adults had nightmares?

  “Crawlies gone?” Kisa asked, when she reached the pool of light.

  “All gone,” Mistress Valgo soothed. She gathered Kisa into her lap and hugged her. “Ready to go back to bed?”

  “Bain walk me.” She held out her arms to the boy.

  Mistress Valgo hid her face. Anyon snorted. Bain saw him grin before the man turned his face away. At least they didn't laugh at him. Bain felt his face get warm. He looked at Kisa for a few seconds, then sighed and held out his hand to catch her.

  “We don't dare use the tether,” Mistress Valgo whispered. Bain knew she did that to keep from laughing.

  “It's okay.” Bain held onto Kisa's arm whi
le Mistress Valgo unclipped the tether. He held the little girl close against his chest, her legs around his waist. Anyon helped him turn so he could fly straight to the exercise wheel.

  Bain heard a few snickers in the darkness while he walked with Kisa, but not many. The little light on the exercise wheel didn't reveal much, fortunately. He kept his back to the bunks and held tight to her hand. He didn't need Kisa floating away and screaming until everybody woke up.

  They barely made three circuits of the wheel before Kisa sat down, hard. Bain thought she could have ripped his arm off. In partial gravity, she was heavy. He sat next to her. The wheel kept moving. He got dizzy when he looked out of the wheel and the hold seemed to move around him.

  “Tired,” Kisa whimpered. She started to put her thumb back in her mouth, then stopped and stared at Bain for a few seconds. Then Kisa gave him one of her beautiful, bright, wide smiles and held out her arms to be picked up.

  Bain picked her up and half-crawled, half-walked to the edge of the wheel. He held out his hand and waited until the wheel brought him around to slap the switch that shut down the motor and stopped the spinning.

  “Don't need rope,” Kisa said.

  “Nope. I can climb and fly.” Bain pushed off the wheel and aimed at Kisa's bunk. He caught the bar before he slammed into the wall and bounced.

  “Don't like rope.” She smiled and gave him a wet kiss on the cheek before Bain put her back into her netting.

  He waited until he was in his own blankets before he wiped his face.

  * * * *

  Every time Bain turned around, Kisa wanted him to carry her or teach her to climb. He tried to ignore her, but she started to cry. He knew it was better to teach her and keep her quiet, than get everybody mad when she screamed again.

  He taught Kisa to climb the bunk frame, pulling herself along with her hands, her legs floating out behind her. If it kept the little girl quiet during the day and when he wanted to sleep, he didn't mind the extra work.

  Kisa did cry a little when he went to the bridge for lessons. She snatched at Bain, but Shari helped, catching the little girl and pulling her off Bain's back. She tickled Kisa and turned her around, facing away from Bain.

  “Go on!” Shari whispered loudly, over Kisa's screams of laughter.

  Bain wanted to hug her, he was so grateful. He didn't, though. The other girls would tease them. He scrambled up the access tube, trying to think of something to give Shari, to thank her. Maybe Lin would let him bring Shari up to look around the bridge.

  “So, you have a girlfriend now?” Lin said, when Bain emerged through the hatch.

  “Huh?” He pushed off the wall without watching what he did. Bain bounced off the ceiling, hit a wall, and nearly crashed into the control panel. He caught the back of the chair and held on so hard his fingers hurt.

  “That little one has you pretty flustered.” She reached over and helped him slide into the chair. “Ganfer says no one's getting much sleep, thanks to her.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Kisa's scared of her tether. She thinks it's a crimson slither, and it gives her nightmares.” Bain took a deep breath to calm down. He couldn't let her know that he thought she was talking about Shari.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lin sent Bain back to the hold early that afternoon, because he had learned his lessons so quickly. She promised they would start studying the ship's design the next day, and gave him a hand-held reading screen and some book chips so he could get a head start. Bain thanked her with shining eyes and hugged the screen close. He tucked it inside his shirt for safekeeping when he flew down the tube to the hold.

  Bain was so excited he did a somersault and flew across the hold without looking ahead. Fortunately, no one was in his way. Bain caught hold of the bar to his bunk with room to spare. He used his speed to turn upwards with a sharp twist and flung himself into his hammock net.

  The net straps snapped off the bars. Bain hit the wall with a loud thud and a yelp. He bounced back, spinning. The net wrapped around his legs and one arm. He couldn't move. Bain flew out past the frames, over the tables, heading for the other wall.

  He bounced hard against the top edge of the sanitary cabinet. A sharp pain went through his back where he hit. His arm jerked loose, hitting the cabinet at elbow and shoulder. Bain tried to grab onto anything to stop himself. His fingers slid off one sharp corner, then caught on a ledge that folded under. He held on tight, afraid to even breathe.

  Then he heard the laughter. It sounded like everyone in the hold laughed. At him.

  “Bain? Are you all right?”

  Bain took a few seconds to recognize Ganfer's voice, coming from the collar. He hesitated, unsure what to say, or even if he should say anything.

  “Lin is coming down. It'll be all right.”

  “No! Don't let her.” Bain almost let go. He struggled against the net. He didn't want Lin to see him look stupid.

  His legs came free with a kick and a twist. Bain held tight to the ledge and pushed off with one foot, to turn around to face the hold. The laughter stopped. Bain hoped his angry expression gave everyone nightmares.

  Anyon and Master Valgo were in the exercise wheel and they had to stop its spin before they could get out and help him. Bain wished they would reach him before Lin got there.

  He freed his other arm when Lin appeared in the hatch. Bain climbed down the sanitary cabinet wall and hovered just above the floor. He felt awful as he watched Lin's face. He couldn't read her expression. Her eyes looked hard. Her face held a quiet, watchful waiting. If she was angry or sad or about to burst out laughing (at him), he couldn't tell.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. Lin was on the other side of the hold, her voice quiet, but it filled the room. Bain suddenly felt safe and warm.

  “I'm okay.” He grabbed at the net floating next to him and tried to jam it into his pocket.

  “Bring that over here, Bain,” Anyon said. He hung in front of Bain's empty bunk space. Blankets and bag floated behind him, slowly spinning but staying exactly where the man had pushed them.

  “Find something?” Lin flew up to join Anyon. Her mouth twitched, making her look angry for a second. The doctor pointed at something attached to the bunk frame. “Ganfer, scan.” Lin's voice turned sharp, hard.

  Bain decided to cross the hold in short leaps. Sanitary cabinet to table to table to bunks. Nobody else moved. The children at lessons with Mistress Valgo stayed in their places. Bain climbed up next to Lin. Anyon held out his free hand. Bain handed over his bunk net. Anyon unfolded it and examined the edges and straps.

  “Are you sure you're all right?” Lin asked, her voice softer.

  “Yeah.” Bain decided it would be better to tell her everything. “I hit my back, but I think I'll just get a bruise.” He groaned when he thought of something bad.

  “What?” Fear made her face pale. She grabbed Bain's shoulder hard. He gasped in surprise, not pain. “Sorry,” she muttered.

  Bain pulled the reading screen from inside his shirt. It didn't look broken. He handed it to Lin. “I was scared I dropped it.”

  “Broken screens can be fixed—broken heads can't.” She grinned and gave the screen a short exam, then handed it right back to him. Bain noticed her lips trembled a little bit. Lin was scared he had been hurt!

  “Scan complete,” Ganfer said. His voice sounded small and soft. Then Bain realized the ship-brain spoke only through the collars he and Lin wore. What didn't he want the others to hear?

  “The straps were cut, weren't they?” Anyon asked.

  “Yes. Metal residue on the straps.” Ganfer paused. “It occurred while security cameras were otherwise occupied.”

  “Security cameras?” Bain yelped.

  “You don't think I'd leave a bunch of crazy children in my hold with only three adults to keep them out of trouble?” Lin grinned, despite the growl in her voice. “I thought only periodic scans were necessary. I guess I was wrong.”

  “I can guess who was responsible,” Anyon said. H
e snagged Bain's blankets and bag out of the air. “You can sleep in my place, Bain, and I'll fix this one.”

  “No.” Lin took the blankets and bag and gave them to Bain. “He's staying on the bridge.”

  “Lin—” the man began. Surprise made his voice rise and his eyes widen.

  “I have four cubicles up there that haven't been used since I was a little. Bain is practically crew, anyway.” Lin turned so she could see everyone else in the hold. “From now on, Bain is crew. He doesn't belong down here with the passengers.” Her voice got sharp, so Bain thought it was suddenly embarrassing to be a passenger. “Whoever cut his bunk straps had better confess right away. The longer you take, the more time I have to think of punishments.”

  The hold was quiet. Too quiet. Bain felt a vibration for a few seconds, like a silent echo of Lin's tight, cold voice. He was afraid to look at her, but it was worse looking at the children. Some were frightened; some startled; some angry. A few looked at Toly and smirked at him. Toly stuck his tongue out.

  “Did you want to say something?” Lin asked, her voice twice as loud. Toly shook his head and went pale. “No one sticks their tongues out at anyone on my ship. The next one who does can lick the floor clean.”

  She waited a few seconds longer. No one said anything. Anyon touched her shoulder, turning her to look at him. When their eyes met, the hard look on her face softened. She nodded. Lin flew to the hatch. She didn't look back. Bain didn't know what to do or say, so he followed.

  Lin had a cubicle curtain pulled back when he reached the bridge. Bain stayed in the hatch, watching her, not really sure what to do.

  “Needs to be cleaned.” Lin turned and sat on the cushioned platform a meter above the floor. It served as a bed, with a net spread over it to hold the sleeper down on the mattress. “My aunt stayed here until she married a farmer on Lenga.” She gave Bain a lopsided smile. “Come and see if it'll suit you.”

  The bed was wide enough to sleep three. Deep drawers filled the space under the bed. Shelves filled the wall left of the bed, with nets over them to keep the contents in place. The right end had closet doors. The back of the bed had a viewing screen built into the wall and all sorts of hooks and knobs and clips for hanging and storing things.