Bain paused a moment longer to search her face. He didn't see any hesitation, just that sadness that made her eyes dark and deep and older than he had ever seen anyone's eyes before. Bain nodded and gathered up the chain in his fist, so it wouldn't fall out and no one would see it. He turned and hurried across the room, careful to keep the other men between him and the scholar working at the information desk.
The halls he hurried down now were richly paneled in dark, golden wood, with thick green carpeting on the floor and paintings of outdoor scenes hanging on the gold-tinged walls. Bain followed every right turn as Marnya instructed, until he came to a room with a clear, reinforced plastic ceiling and a huge desk of black wood in the exact center of the square room.
The man who sat at the desk could have been Marnya's brother, with golden red hair and gray-green eyes and a pointed chin. His shoulders were wider and his hands were rough and calloused and wide, made for heavy work with machines or farm work. He wore a black scholar's robe with a thick collar that folded back nearly to the edges of his shoulders. His mouth curved down in a frown of concentration. He studied the computer screen tilted up from the surface of his desk for a few moments before he noticed Bain standing in the doorway.
“Well, who might you be?” he said. His frown softened into a gentle smile.
“Are you Head Scholar Brother Paigosh?” Bain asked.
“Yes, I am. What do—” Brother Paigosh stopped short when Bain held out the chain. The infinity symbol, sign of the Order, spun slowly on the end of the chain. “Where is she?"
“I don't know right now,” he answered truthfully. Bain knew Sister Marnya had to have left the Scholastica by now. “She sent me to ask what happened to Scholar Daylor."
“Ah. That's a frightening question, boy. I wish I had better news. Tell her this, first: When the sun shines the brightest, even at high noon there is still darkness. Can you remember that part?"
“Yes, sir.” Bain nodded and thought a moment. “You think the Shadows killed him?"
“Blessed Kilvordi,” the man muttered. He shook his head and rubbed a few drops of instant sweat from his forehead. “How much has she—well, of course she would tell you. She would never let anyone come near danger without warning them. That's just the way she is.” He shook his head again. “Very well, this is what we know.” Brother Paigosh beckoned for Bain to come closer, and lowered his voice as he continued.
On the way back to the ship, Bain stopped three times to wrap his arms around himself and just shiver. Sister Marnya had warned him, had told him what the Shadows could do, but it hadn't been real to Bain until now. He almost wished Sister Marnya had asked for the information in writing, but Bain knew he would have been curious and read the paper and found out anyway. He would still feel this way; strangely cold and feeling like every stranger he passed was staring at him.
Back on Sunsinger, Sister Marnya had already washed off her makeup and changed her clothes. She sat in the galley with Lin and Jax, drinking tea and talking when Bain reached the bridge. She looked so young and helpless, with her hair hanging free, wearing a pale blue, shapeless tunic and loose pants, and barefoot. Bain almost hated telling her.
“That bad?” Jax asked in a soft, rumbling voice. “You control your expression well, Bain, but your eyes still give it away."
“Oh.” Bain slid into the seat next to Lin. He fought the urge to wrap his arms around himself again and shiver once more.
“What did he say?” Sister Marnya nearly whispered. She stared into her cup of tea, hunched her shoulders a little as if bracing herself for something to fall on her back, and waited.
Bain told them all, but he focused on Marnya as he spoke and wished he could help her feel better.
Brother Daylor had been poisoned. He had suffered four days, conscious and coherent until the end, despite the pain. Brother Paigosh said there were no suspects, no clues, no notes or messages to help them place the blame. He said she would know whom he suspected the most.
“The Shadows, isn't it?” Bain whispered when he finished reciting back what the Head Scholar had told him.
“Of course.” Sister Marnya nodded, still staring into her cup.
“We'll be launching soon, now that Bain is back,” Lin said. She nudged him to slide off the bench so she could get up. “The observation dome is a good place to be alone, once we're out of the atmosphere."
“Thank you,” Marnya whispered.
* * * *
She was still in the dome in the middle of the night, when Bain flew up to get his first dose of space music for that portion of their journey. He didn't even see her until he had settled into his usual acceleration couch and stretched out on his back with one leg tucked under the strap so he wouldn't fly away.
“It's lovely, isn't it?” Sister Marnya whispered.
“Oh—I'm sorry. I thought you were in bed by now.” Bain started struggling to untangle his leg.
“Don't go.” She sat up, bringing the blanket up around her shoulders with her. “I'm not hallucinating, am I? There really is music floating through the dome?"
“Mostly people who aren't Spacers don't hear it,” Bain said, nodding. He blushed a moment later when he realized how ungracious he sounded.
“Yes, well, we in the Order aren't exactly like most people.” She smiled and knuckled a tear out of the corner of her eye. “Do you come up here often to listen?” She gestured at the thin wedge of stars showing through across the upper arch of the dome, where the shielding plates had been folded back.
“Only when things are really busy or I can't think real clear down below. Lin says when our hearts are right and our minds are clear, we can hear the music anywhere."
“She's right."
“Can I ask you something?"
“About Daylor?” Sister Marnya smiled a little more when Bain nodded. “You want to know why I'm so upset over someone I never met?"
“Kind of like that."
“I never met him, but I knew about him. He was very young and very idealistic. He knew all the dangers he would face, the enemies who would surround him when he started asking the questions I needed to have answered. He did it anyway. That poison, when you think about it, was meant for me."
“But the Order can't lose you—you're too important to them,” Bain protested. He sat up hard enough to loosen his grip on the safety strap. He had to scramble for two seconds to regain his hold before he floated out of reach.
“Maybe. But perhaps not. What I do know is that if I had been poisoned, I would have survived."
“Huh?"
“I told you before, Bain, we of the Order aren't like most people."
“But—I don't understand. Do you take medicine to keep you safe?"
“Not quite. I suppose ... I suppose you could say I was born safe."
“Huh?” Bain felt rather stupid, saying the same thing again. He couldn't think of any other response, though.
“You deserve some explanation, after what happened today. Fi'in knows, I'd like to talk to someone new who really understands.” Sister Marnya wrapped the blanket a little closer around herself. “This goes back to long before the Downfall. Did you know that genetic engineering contributed to it?"
“I know there were big wars because people wanted to make too many changes in Human genes."
“Exactly. Imagine if someone in power decided that from now on, all Humans had to be born with blond hair and blue eyes. That meant people with dark hair and eyes wouldn't be allowed to have children. Or the people in power decided only one color of skin was permitted. Can you imagine the stupidity of fighting, of killing other people, over something like the color of skin or hair or eyes? Fi'in made us all different for a reason."
Bain nodded that he understood, and waited. He and Lin had talked about such things before, so the idea wasn't new or shocking to him.
“More important,” Sister Marnya continued after a few moments, “the scientists were trying to change Human genetics to create special
talents. Super intelligence and telepathy. The ability to heal with a touch, or to kill with that same touch. Permanent immunity to all diseases. They tried to stop aging. They tried to create bigger, stronger Humans. They focused on creating a superior Human being, instead of wiping out the diseases and genetic problems that should have been the focus of their work. And, as always, planets began to battle over who would have the final word on what made up a superior Human."
“That's when we lost all the colonies and Vidan destroyed its technology and everything fell apart. Lin says that's what regressing is—being stupid and breaking everything that's supposed to help you, so you're worse off in the end than when you started."
“Exactly. Vidan returned to the dark centuries before medicine and electricity and books. People fought with swords and spears.” Sister Marnya's eyes lost their focus, as if she saw into a place Bain couldn't see. “Despite all the sickness and death and fighting, some of the genetically engineered gifts survived. People were born who were smarter and faster and stronger, people who could be hurt and heal in moments, instead of days."
“People who can be poisoned and not die?” Bain guessed. He felt another shiver this time; but it was a good kind of shiver, all excitement and discovery, not fear.
“Exactly. Those of us who understand what happened, and want to prevent it happening again, look for others who are like us. We work together, using our genetically engineered gifts for the good of the Commonwealth.” She rubbed at her eyes again. “We have to make up for the evil, arrogant plans of our ancestors. We have to help all Humans, because our ancestors wanted to rule the Human race."
“But that's not fair!"
“Neither was the Downfall. Imagine all those colonies that suffered from crimes they didn't commit. Worlds that depended on First Civ to bring them food and weapons and machines to survive—and the supply ships never came. Imagine the children who starved and died, or who grew ill and were never given the medicine they needed. Imagine the colony worlds that were established specifically as genetic laboratories, and were abandoned when the wars began.
“Just think, Bain. Somewhere out there, on dozens of forgotten worlds, there are people who might not qualify as Human beings anymore, the way we think of Humans. They might have wings, they might go on all fours, they might be able to breathe water. They might be able to see in the dark. They might have to live underground because their skin is too sensitive to light, because of cruel things done to their ancestors. They might have to live in thin air at high altitude, because of the changes created in their genetics. We have to find them and help them. We owe them that. Those of us with gifts and special abilities we never earned owe help to those who suffer in our place."
“Why do you feel guilty?” Bain asked. He almost couldn't believe the words leaving his lips, but he kept talking. “It's not your fault."
“No. But if those of us who can help don't, just because we didn't cause the problem, are we really any better than the people who committed the crime? If we see a need and we can fill it, and we don't, we're just as guilty. If we are not part of the solution, we are therefore part of the problem. There is no neutral ground, and no one is innocent. You are either victim or criminal or savior. There is no fourth choice."
“What can I do? I'm just a kid."
“What?"
For a long moment, Marnya stared at Bain. Her mouth trembled and her eyes grew bright with unshed tears. Then she put her head down in her hands and her shoulders shook—and she started laughing. A few sobs broke through the laughter, but Bain was sure she was laughing.
“Oh ... I'm sorry, Bain.” She raised her head again and wiped away her tears, mixed with her hair. “Sometimes I get carried away, and you're such a good listener and ... you seem to understand so much more than people twice your age. I didn't mean to laugh at you."
“Lin helps everywhere she can, and I'm trying to learn to be like her, but we're just one ship."
“I know. You've felt loss and pain, haven't you? You've seen people hurting and afraid, and that makes you want to help, doesn't it?” She smiled a little more when Bain nodded. “I was married once—I told you that, didn't I? He was a soldier, and even with all the stories he told me, I didn't really understand all the evil in the world. I was a scholar, living in the proverbial ivory tower. Then he died and pain opened my eyes. I realized how little I was doing to help the world."
“There has to be more we can do to help,” Bain whispered.
“I know. If you think of something, tell me. The Order will help you find the way. I promise.” She held out her hand to him and Bain clasped it. He shivered a little, but it was a good kind of shiver, full of excitement and anticipation.
* * *
Chapter Ten
Sister Marnya's tenth colony visit was on the planet KayGeeFor. According to colonization plans, the planet wasn't due to be colonized for another twenty years, but the pressures of the war had changed that schedule. The only technology installed on the planet was a tiny landing field with all the spaceport equipment housed in one underground bunker. There were no power conduits for light, heat, computers or communication; no sanitary system; no water. At this time in KayGeeFor's history, it was still supposed to be an emergency landing spot only, a refueling point for Rangers. The spaceport was meant to be nothing but a jumping off point for explorers. ‘KayGeeFor’ was not a name, but its designation code. The planet wouldn't have an official name until it was an official colony.
What it was the day Sunsinger landed was a makeshift refugee dumping terminal. The other Spacer ships and Ranger crews were supposed to take people from the planets closer to the Mashrami line of advance, bring them to KayGeeFor where they could be processed, and then sent on to semi-permanent housing on other, better prepared colonies.
Somewhere along the way, the bureaucracy had fallen apart. The people were staying on KayGeeFor to make the best of their miserable situation.
Sister Marnya didn't come to KayGeeFor to meet anyone, but to see the truth of the rumors she had heard.
Bain and Lin walked with Sister Marnya and Jax. There was no attempt to disguise themselves, or to stay separated in the crowd so people wouldn't know they were together. They walked in a tight group, with Sister Marnya between Lin and Bain, and Jax behind them. He had joked when they left Sunsinger that he would play point rear guard. Only a few dozen meters into the refugee camp's ‘streets,’ Bain knew Jax wasn't smiling at his little joke anymore. He didn't even have to look at the man's face to know that; he could see Sister Marnya's misery and knew Jax would mirror it.
The people lived in huts built of multicolored packing crates, plastic and fiber board and metal, or woven branches plastered with decaying leaves and mud, or thermal blankets held in place with metal pins, stretched over branches or metal rods.
Ditches ran between the huts. Bain gagged at the thick odors of excrement mixed with mud and rotten food. Holding his breath, he stepped away from Sister Marnya long enough to look down into the meter-deep ditch. Green and blue scum floated on top of the water. A half-burned carcass of some small, brown-furred animal lay just under the surface.
“Be thankful it's fall,” Lin murmured when Bain scurried to rejoin their slowly moving little group.
“Why?” He choked and pressed his sleeve over his mouth, trying to block the smell just for a little while. Bain imagined something was trying to crawl around inside his sinuses and drop into his stomach.
“The weather is getting cooler,” Jax said. “The garbage won't ferment as quickly, the smells won't be so bad, and the diseases running through the camp won't spread as quickly. Lower temperatures make for healthier living in places like this."
“I had forgotten what it was like,” Sister Marnya murmured. She wrapped her arms around herself under her usual green cloak and shivered a little.
“You've been here before?” Bain felt a little embarrassed at his own discomfort.
“No, not here. But every refugee camp
looks and feels something like this, I suppose.” She shook her head and made an effort to take her gaze off a knot of children playing in the mud and weeds to the right of them.
The children were all barefoot, despite the chill in the morning air. Three had running noses. Another had red sores spotting her arms and legs. Another wore a filthy, green and brown spattered bandage wrapped around her left leg from knee to hip. Their clothes, what could be seen through green and blue stains and the tears and smears of mud, were on the fine line between threadbare and rags.
Yet the children laughed and tumbled and didn't seem to notice or care about the dirt or the cold or their ragged clothes. For a few seconds, Bain looked at them and grinned and wished he could join in the fun.
There was enough food—the Commonwealth was able to supply that, if nothing else. The people wouldn't starve before they were moved to better housing or reunited with relatives on other planets.
Bain figured out the largest problem for himself after nearly three hours of walking through the camp and seeing the sick, ragged, suffering people. The problem was the lack of medicine and shelter and sanitation. Children suffered from dehydration because there wasn't enough clean water for drinking, much less cooking or washing. If they couldn't get clean and stay clean, the little bit of medicine they had wouldn't help them for long. The open ditches where the people relieved themselves, and threw their garbage, were breeding grounds for every disease the Human race had thought to leave behind when they gained the technology to reach to the stars. Without shelter and proper clothes, the people would become weak and ill from exposure and the changing weather.
The four finished their tour of the refugee camp, which circled the tiny spaceport landing field, and returned in silence to Sunsinger. Not until they were safely inside the ship did Bain realize something odd. The realization made him shiver, cold and somewhat sick to his stomach.
The Lady And the Order [Sunsinger Chronicles Book 4] Page 11