Sunsinger

by Michelle Levigne

  “Sunsinger couldn't take it,” Bain muttered. He grinned, thinking of Toly and his nasty friends bouncing off the walls and ceiling. Lin snorted. He looked over his shoulder in time to see her wipe a grin off her face. Her eyes sparkled brighter than fire.

  “The blue bundles have six tethers each, connected with pinch snaps. As we take the children out of stasis, I want you to unhook a tether, attach one end to the child's belt and the other end to the hammock. Got it?”

  Lin pushed out of her chair, bounced off the ceiling and down to the floor. She scooped up four bundles into her arms. Bain barely got his leg out in time. She changed her angle and flew to the hatch opening.

  “Coming?” she called without glancing over her shoulder. “Be careful. Added mass affects momentum.” Then she vanished down the tube to the cargo hold.

  Bain gauged the distance to the hold door. He didn't want to hit so hard he bounced all over. If he didn't push hard enough, he might hang in mid-air until Lin came back for him. He couldn't stand it if she got mad or laughed at him.

  He launched toward the sensor dome in the ceiling, grabbed hard, and twisted to spin himself toward the open hatch leading to the cargo hold. His aim wasn't good, but Bain managed to grab hold of the edge of the hatch frame and keep from bouncing off. He dropped a coil but it stayed close, caught between his body and the wall. Bain took a deep breath and tried to plan ahead before he tackled the access tube.

  When he reached the cargo hold, Lin and Anyon were helping the Valgos out of their chairs. Thin streamers of green-yellow stasis light came only from the ceiling. Some children stretched and rubbed their eyes, partially free of stasis. A few curled up in their chairs and went to sleep.

  Bain settled himself against the wall and walked to the bunk frames, then pushed off so he floated to the first table in the middle of the floor. Then the second, then the third.

  “Good timing,” Lin said, when he set his tethers next to hers, floating above the floor. “You have to squeeze the clips and pull the two sides apart to separate them.”

  “Space-walking already?” Anyon gave Bain a smile before turning back to his control board. He pressed three keys and a streamer of light faded out. A baby girl came free of the stasis field. She opened her mouth and started to cry.

  Mistress Valgo snatched up the baby and cuddled her. She pushed off from the stasis chair and flew over to the bunks. In moments, the baby girl was safely floating in the net bag of her hammock. She giggled as she slowly rolled over and over, and played with her toes.

  Bain watched the adults release the babies and settle them first. He worked on unhooking and untangling the tethers, to have them ready for the older children.

  What would happen if he put Toly on a loose tether? How much force would make the bully bounce around the hold? How long would he bounce before someone caught him?

  Bain sighed and knew he couldn't pull a trick like that. Toly would know he had done it. If the bully got hurt, Bain would be in trouble with the adults. Worse, Lin would be disappointed in him.

  Anyon and Lin worked from youngest to oldest as they freed the children. Bain finished untangling the tethers, then practiced shuttling from the stasis chairs to the bunks. He only took two tries to figure how much of a push he needed to get from the chairs to a table to the bunks, and back again. Bain enjoyed the feeling of flying—and the awe on the faces of the littles who watched him.

  Lin and Anyon checked each child as the stasis field went down; a quick test of eyes, ears, knee reflex and pulse. The Valgos gave each child a quick wash with a wet cloth and dry towel, face and hands, and a breakfast of a ration bar and drink tube. Then Bain took over, shuttling the children to their hammocks.

  He usually got halfway there before he reached the end of the tether and inertia slowed him. Bain grabbed the closest frame and pulled himself along, dragging the tethered child behind him like he used to pull in fish. As each child got larger and heavier, Bain had to give a little more effort when he pushed off. At the bunk, he looped his end of the tether through the net and fastened it with the other end of the clip. The younger children, he pulled in and settled in their nets; the older ones he let take care of themselves.

  Toly got sick-dizzy at his first taste of free-fall. He moaned and snatched at the table he passed. He dropped his ration bar and tried to grab at Master Valgo to stop moving. His hand slipped and he missed and started spinning around in mid-air. Bain felt the tether slip from his hand. He caught hold of a bunk bar and turned himself around. Four boys and two girls burst out laughing. All four boys were Toly's friends—the only ones who could laugh at Toly without getting beat up.

  “Make it stop!” Toly wailed. He kicked his feet and waved his arms, but couldn't move closer to something solid.

  Master Valgo caught hold of Toly's tether and dragged the boy down to the table without saying a word. His mouth twitched, fighting not to smile at the white-faced bully.

  “This one is going to need extra lessons,” Lin said. She pushed off the row of stasis chairs and zipped over Toly's head. Her feet hit the bunks and Lin bounced off to land next to the bully. “In free-fall, you make your moves slow and gentle, unless you know what you're doing.” She snagged Toly's dropped ration bar from where it spun in mid-air, and gave it back to him. He shook his head. “Eat. Free-fall isn't kind to an empty stomach.”

  Bain thought free-fall couldn't be very kind to a full stomach, either, but he knew better than to say that aloud. Toly would think he was making fun of him, and Lin might not appreciate him making jokes when she was teaching.

  “Here—get him settled.” Lin pushed the end of the tether to Bain. “When everyone has had breakfast, you can help teach them to move in free-fall.” She didn't wait for Bain to respond, but turned back to her work.

  Bain nodded and started pulling Toly over to his bunk. He didn't want to look at the other boy. Toly was probably frowning at him, his face getting red and nasty, his hands clenching into fists. Bain knew he was in trouble.

  “All your fault,” Toly grumbled, when Bain finished attaching the tether to his bunk.

  Bain ignored him. He watched Toly's hands and feet, if the bully tried to hit him or push him away. Bain wished he had a tether, too. He didn't like the idea of bouncing around until someone caught and stopped him.

  “You tried to get me sick,” Toly said, louder. “You made me spin.”

  “He did not,” Shari called from the other end of the row of bunks. Her three girlfriends turned to watch Bain and Toly. “Everybody saw you, Toly Gaber. You got sick and you got scared and you made yourself spin. Even dummies know you have to be careful in free-fall.”

  Her friends giggled. A few boys lower in the bunks laughed, too. Bain climbed away from Toly along the bunks toward the middle. He tried to figure out how hard a push he would need to get from the bunks to the hatch, if Toly chased him.

  “Yeah, run away!” Toly yelled. He leaped at Bain, bounced off a support bar and flew out over the tables.

  “Stop that right now!” Anyon roared. He ducked as Toly reached the end of his tether and snapped back, hurtling toward the frames. The doctor reached up and snagged the boy's leg. He caught hold of the table with his other hand and stopped them both.

  “They should have included tranquilizers in the supplies,” Mistress Valgo said. “Toly, I hear you teased Ronny until he got sick.”

  “He's just a stupid, scared, little kid,” the bully yelled. He gasped as Anyon unclipped his tether and pushed him into a stasis seat.

  “Yes, he's little, and he's scared,” Mistress Valgo said. “But he gets better grades than you do.” Her angry look faded when some children behind her giggled. “Toly, you made Ronny sick, so you can clean up the mess he made.”

  Toly opened his mouth to yell, but Anyon glared and towered over him. The boy went pale and hunched his shoulders and looked away. Bain saw a few boys grin and give each other a thumbs-up signal. He hoped they didn't tease Toly later for getting punished.
It would only make the trip worse for everyone if Toly stayed angry.

  * * * *

  Anyon and Bain taught the children how to navigate free-fall. Bain taught the littles how to climb up and down the bunk frames with their legs flying in the air, how to unhook their tethers from their bunks and clip them to the guide ropes strung around the hold. They were to stay on their tethers at all times, and only leave their bunks to eat, to have lessons and exercise, and use the sanitary.

  Anyon taught the older children, showing them how to keep their elbows and knees bent to absorb impact when they landed, how to angle their push so they didn't fly past their target. Bain nearly cheered when Toly and his friends collided in mid-air and scattered all over the hold. They hid in their hammocks after Anyon and Master Valgo retrieved them and grumbled to each other.

  “You make it look so easy,” Shari said when Bain helped some girls get back to their bunks after lunch.

  “I do?” He paused with one hand on the bar under her bunk, his legs bent to push off.

  “Guess it's because you're a Spacer.”

  “Yeah,” Mona said from the bunk underneath. “You really are a Spacer.” She leaned out, to look up at Bain and Shari. “We used to think you were stupid, when you said your grandparents were Spacers. Like you wanted to make everybody think you were better than us.”

  “We were wrong, I guess.” Shari held out her hand. “We're really glad you're a Spacer, Bain,” she said, as they shook hands. “We're sorry we made fun of you.”

  “I didn't mean to make anybody mad at me,” he mumbled. Bain let go of Shari's hand and felt his face start to get warm. He hated how he looked when he blushed.

  “We know that now.” Mona giggled and leaned out backwards, hanging over the floor with her hair floating around her. “Boys are just icky, so we thought you were dumb like Toly. You're not.”

  “Thanks.” He pushed off from the bunk and flew across the hold to the sanitary cabinet. Bain was afraid to look back. What if the girls watched him? He washed his face and hands until his face didn't feel so hot.

  He didn't have time to think about what the girls said. The littles kept trying to jump out of their bunks and fly. They must have thought Toly's leap was fun, because they tried to imitate him. Bain had more than enough to do, watching over the littles. He grabbed at tethers and fastened nets closed until his hands felt raw.

  “Wanna play!” one little boy whined after Bain stuffed him back into his net for the tenth time in an hour.

  “You can't play in free-fall,” Bain said. His throat hurt from yelling at littles and trying to be heard over whining and complaining and laughing and crying.

  “Why not?”

  “Because your ball won't come back. It'd bounce all over and hit everybody and maybe even go up to the bridge. What would happen if your ball hit a control panel?” Bain discovered all the littles listened to him. His brain froze up, refusing to give him any more words to say.

  “It'd break something?” a little girl in the next bunk asked.

  “Maybe.” Bain saw a few trembling lips, and tears starting to sparkle in a few pairs of eyes. “We could come out in the wrong solar system. What if it hit the wrong button when the captain tried to take us through a Knaught Point? We could go to a galaxy no one ever saw before.”

  “Yeah!” another little boy said. Bain laughed at the eagerness in his voice. He saw the fear leave most of the faces watching him.

  “What's it like in other galaxies?” another girl asked. She leaned out of the bunk over Bain's head.

  If they had been on a planet, she would have fallen. She hung there, watching Bain, her eyes wide and her mouth bright with a smile and her long hair waving in the air instead of falling into her face. He climbed up and gave her a nudge to get her back into her net.

  “I don't know. We'd have to ask...” Bain stopped with the net fasteners in his hand. Ideas raced around in his mind. He needed something to keep the littles in one place. “You stay here. I'll ask Ganfer if he can tell you.”

  “Who's Ganfer?” she asked.

  “He's the ship-brain.”

  “It has a name?” an older girl said, her voice squeaking.

  Bain just nodded. He pushed off from the bunk and aimed for the hatch. Then he realized the older children had been listening to him talk with the littles. Bain hoped he hadn't said anything stupid, something the older children could tease him about later.

  Chapter Ten

  “So, do you have any stories I can tell, to keep them in their bunks?” Bain said. He finished telling Lin and Anyon about the littles’ questions.

  “Ganfer?” Lin said. She leaned back and stretched out on the bench. She and Anyon had been in the galley, talking over cups of coffee when Bain got to the bridge.

  “I don't know which question you ask,” Ganfer said.

  “Yes, you do.” She rolled her eyes in exaggerated frustration. Anyon smothered a chuckle. “Do you still have those fairy tales and adventures in your memory?”

  “Oh. That question.” There was a pause, as if Ganfer had to check his memory files. “Yes, I have all those old stories. Shall I print them for Bain to read, or shall I just tell them directly to the children?”

  “They'd listen better if you told them,” Bain said. His face started to get warm when Lin and Anyon grinned at him.

  “Well, they would,” Anyon admitted.

  “Ganfer doesn't have that much to do right now.” Lin nodded, her smile softer. “That would free you from babysitting to work on your lessons.”

  “Lessons?” Anyon asked.

  “I promised Bain I would help him find a ship to train on, if he did a good job and learned everything he could on this trip.” Lin raised her cup in a toast to the boy. “He's an apt and eager pupil. I predict he'll be able to ship anywhere he wants, once he's trained.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Shall I begin the stories?” Ganfer asked. He sounded eager.

  “By all means, O Bucket of Bolts.” Lin grinned and took a sip from her cup. “Good idea, Bain. Ganfer has been dying to tell those stories to someone again.”

  “What kind of stories?” Bain said. He decided he had done something very good. He liked pleasing Lin.

  “I can't really remember, it's been so long since I was little and he told them to me. What's that look for?” she said with a chuckle.

  “Oh ... nothing.” Bain backed away from the table. He wished his face wouldn't get so hot when he felt embarrassed. It had never occurred to him Lin was a little girl, once.

  “Don't leave yet.” She vaulted from the booth and flew across the bridge. “I just finished this.” She reached in a drawer and pulled out a copper collar like hers. “Catch.” She tossed it across the bridge. “It's your link, so Ganfer can talk to you, and I can call you to the bridge without disturbing everybody.” She grinned at Bain when he just stood there, his mouth hanging open, the collar in his hand.

  “Put it on,” Anyon said with a chuckle. When Bain still didn't move, he stood, took the collar, and slipped it around the boy's neck. “We'll make you a full-fledged Spacer by the end of this trip.”

  “Thank you,” Bain managed to stammer.

  “Better get back to the hold if you want to hear Ganfer's stories,” Lin said. She waited until he reached the hatch to the access tube before she crossed the bridge again.

  “I'm waiting for you to arrive,” Ganfer said. His voice startled Bain, coming from the collar around his neck.

  “Ganfer, where did you get the stories?” Bain asked, whispering although he knew no one else could hear.

  “Here and there. Some are very old. Some are true adventures. Some, I made up.”

  “You did?”

  “I am very old, Bain. I have learned to do many things most ship-brains can't.” Ganfer chuckled. “In space, with nothing to do for hours at a time, stories are precious cargo. You make stories or music, or study, to fill the time.”

  “Ganfer, will you help
me learn to be a Spacer?” Bain asked.

  “Of course.”

  Chapter Eleven

  After three days, the passengers on Sunsinger settled into a routine.

  The Valgos and their four helpers passed out food bars and drink tubes for breakfast as everyone else woke up. They ate in their bunks. Then the six took turns shuttling everyone across the hold to the sanitary cabinet to wash and dress for the day.

  Dr. Anyon rigged an exercise wheel at the far end of the hold to provide a little gravity for exercising. Even if the trip wouldn't last more than two weeks, lack of exercise was not good for the children. Anyon took groups of three at a time for morning runs, and examined anyone who looked ill or complained of any symptoms of free-fall sickness: dizzy, light-headed, unable to balance, weak stomach.

  While Anyon supervised exercises, the Valgos supervised chores and lessons. Then they had lunch.

  After lunch, the littles took naps and the older children read, exercised, talked, or played quiet games in the confines of their bunks. The ones who did badly in their lessons had tutoring sessions.

  Bain, Shari and the other two girls had to keep track of the littles when their naps ended. Bain was delighted and relieved when Lin called him to the bridge to watch her work, and do small shipboard chores—what she called ‘Spacer lessons.’ He liked littles, and they liked him, but he didn't like the teasing from the older boys.

  “The only way to learn a Spacer's duties is to work. Can't run a control board unless you touch it,” Lin said. She looked around at the children who stopped their games and studies to listen. She looked longest at Toly. The bully turned away after only a few seconds. “You proved you can be trusted, Bain. You know right from wrong, and you don't pick on people smaller and weaker than you. That's very important in a Spacer.”

  Lin turned to go back to the bridge, then glanced over her shoulder and frowned. “Well?” she said. Her eyes sparkled. “Are you coming, or aren't you?”

  “Coming!” Bain bent his legs to push out of his bunk. Giggles from some girls two levels above stopped him.