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eBook Category: Science Fiction/Young Adult
eBook Description: Sunsinger's crew joins the Rangers on a mission of mercy where time is the enemy--along with a plague created by the alien Mashrami. Bain and Lin help to deliver medicine to hopefully prevent and cure the plague. When they come to a planet where the colonists are uncooperative, they start to unearth secrets better left buried.

eBook Publisher: Writers Exchange E-Publishing, Published: Writers Exchange E-Publishing, 2004
Fictionwise Release Date: July 2004

This eBook is part of the following series:

• Michelle Levigne's Sunsinger Chronicles

73 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [886 KB], eReader (PDB) [130 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [113 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [101 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [121 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [160 KB], hiebook (KML) [519 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [184 KB], iSilo (PDB) [93 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [117 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [166 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [154 KB]
Words: 34757
Reading time: 99-139 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
ISBN: 1920741135

Refuge. Bain hadn't been back to this planet since he was twelve. He was fifteen now.

At the beginning, when Lin hadn't been allowed to tell him they were relatives, Bain had feared the authorities would separate them the next time they landed on Refuge.

Now, he watched the screen as they approached the planet and he grinned. He was a Spacer, born and bred, trained and proven. The only thing that could get him to leave Sunsinger was if someone offered him a ship of his own. Nothing else that Bain could imagine could ever get him to leave Lin or Ganfer or the ship. Sunsinger was home, and Lin and Ganfer were his family. To Spacers, home and family were as sacred as the Order and obeying Fi'in's laws.

Refuge grew bigger on the computer screens, filling them with the blue-white clouds of the upper atmosphere, then changing to blue and brown and green as the ship penetrated that layer and headed down through thickening air for the landing field.

Sunsinger's hold was filled with medical supplies for the scientists stationed on Refuge. Bain only knew the Mashrami had hit more planets with plague bombs in the last five months than they had attacked in the last six years. Lin speculated it was a desperation move; a spoilsport mentality that drove the dying race to destroy worlds they would never own. It was only speculation, because the military wasn't telling anyone anything.

Lin reasoned that either the military didn't know or they didn't want to panic anyone. She understood their reasoning for what they did. That didn't mean she or Bain had to like the silence, though.

Like everyone involved in aiding the military, the crew of Sunsinger had to get by on guesswork. They guessed what was happening in the war based on the cargo in their holds, snippets of conversations overheard in military offices or activity glimpsed on Fleet-occupied planets.

"Refuge spaceport, this is Sunsinger," Lin said. On the viewscreens, the scorched expanse of the landing field had just become visible. "Requesting landing coordinates and decontamination protocol. We have priority level three medical supplies to unload."

"Acknowledged, Sunsinger," a metallic-toned voice responded. Bain couldn't tell if the speaker was male or female. "Sending now."

"Receiving," Lin said a moment later, as numbers scrolled down the screen by her left elbow. She pressed the buttons that cut off voice communication. "Their communication system needs an overhaul. I doubt they'll get it until the whole wretched mechanism breaks down." She sighed and stretched her arms to the ceiling. Her long, black, silver-streaked braid slid over her shoulder and swung across the back of the chair. "Exigencies of the war."

"I thought it would be over by now," Bain said. He winced when his voice cracked.

Lin grinned at his embarrassment. Bain's voice had been cracking, rising to unnatural squeaks or dropping to subterranean levels, for nearly three months now. Lin kept telling him it wouldn't last much longer, that it was part of his body's maturing process. Somehow, Bain doubted something so painful and embarrassing could be explained away that easily.

"It takes a long time for an entire race to die away," Ganfer said, joining the conversation for the first time since coming out of the last Knaught Point five hours ago. The ship-brain had been running diagnostics to make sure Sunsinger hadn't been damaged by the too-close succession of Knaught Point transitions. "Although the planet we surveyed was poisoned by radiation and other life-threatening environmental changes, there is no guarantee that wasn't the only planet where Mashrami lived. Perhaps they have finally found a world friendly to their physical needs. That could be an explanation for the increase in plague bombs."

"Maybe they're trying to wipe us out to protect their new home, instead of trying to take over our worlds?" Lin asked. She frowned; her thinking frown, not the angry or frustrated one.

"It could be."

"I think I prefer the bombs as a desperation move," Bain muttered.

"Me, too." Lin reached over and squeezed his shoulder and gave him a grin. "If it's desperation, then there's hope it'll end before the Human race does."

"Landing," the ship-brain announced. Lights across the board flickered as the computer took over the landing procedure. Landing braces flexed in preparation for touching down.

Refuge was one of the few planets where Lin let the automatic system handle the landing. Everything else on the hub planet might be allowed to fall into disrepair for lack of supplies and replacements, but the landing field was always kept in top condition, second only to the sensor and defense systems. With a perfectly smooth, maintained landing field, Lin and Bain didn't have to monitor sudden changes in the surface and jump in to compensate. The computer running the automatic systems could handle that, but Lin believed in the hands-on, fly-by-instinct method of handling Sunsinger in most other situations. Bain had seen her avoid too many tiny mistakes that computers let pass because they weren't dangerous. He wasn't about to question her beliefs and practices even when he didn't understand them. He hoped someday his own flying instincts would be as sharp.

"Will you look at this?" Lin muttered a few minutes later, as Sunsinger's engines started to shut down. She tapped the screen at the top of the control panel between her and Bain. That particular screen held a list of all the other ships currently grounded on Refuge; their loading and unloading status; and their schedule for launching again.

"That's a lot of Ranger ships," Bain said. He ran his finger down the long list of identification numbers and names.

All Ranger ships had the same three-digit prefix. It made for easier identification and priority handling when there was the uncommon backlog of ships waiting to launch. Bain calculated that three-quarters of the ships were Rangers. They varied from nearly a dozen short-range scouting craft to two long-range search-and-rescue 'flying fortresses' that could evacuate a colony. All their codes indicated no set departure time.

"That's odd," he said, and pointed out the code to Lin. She frowned a little more, deepening that crease between her eyes.

"Odd indeed." She stopped and ran her finger along one line of information. A lopsided grin brightened her face. "That's Gil's ship. Do you think it's just a coincidence they're here at the same time we arrive with medical supplies ?"

"Or they arranged for us to be here?" Bain finished for her.

He leaned back in his seat and ran his fingers through his dark curls. It was time for a haircut, with his hair trailing over his collar and covering his ears. Long hair was a nuisance in free-fall, unless it was braided like Lin's. Bain didn't want to let it grow that long.

"We can ask for immediate launch," she said softly. "We need a break."

"Captain Gil wouldn't ask us to do anything unless he thought we were the only ones who could handle the job."

"True." Lin shook her head. Her smile brightened. "Fi'in bless me--I've taught you too well. Someone would think you'd been raised on nothing but heroic stories and altruistic philosophy."

"I wasn't?" He managed to keep his expression neutral for five long seconds. Then it hurt to fight the teasing grin and the laughter and he let it out.

"We're being hailed by Captain Gilmore of Ranger ship Cutlass," Ganfer announced.

That just earned more laughter from Bain. Lin joined in, slapping him lightly on the shoulder.

"Just tell me one thing," Lin said as she and Bain entered Captain Gilmore's quarters on board the Cutlass. "Are the Mashrami desperate, or do they have a new homeworld to defend?"

"I told you we'd regret it if we didn't include them in this," Dr. Anyon said. He sat in a chair in the corner of the dimly lit office, a brown man--hair, eyes and tanned skin--dressed in the olive and black Ranger uniform with medical insignia. He tipped a salute to Lin and Bain, a touch of two fingers to the edge of his eyebrow.

"That'll be all, Corporal," Captain Gilmore said. He nodded to the young woman who waited at the door of his quarters.

"Recruiting them awful young, aren't you?" Lin said when the door slid closed. She slid down into the nearest chair facing Gil's desk.

"The Mashrami have made more orphans than half the wars Vidan endured during the Downfall," Gil said. "They have nowhere to go other than the school farms on their colonies, or military service."

"You're a fine one to talk about recruiting too young," Dr. Anyon added, nodding at Bain.

Bain felt his face heat up, despite the man's grin. He hoped the light was dim enough in the office no one noticed his face getting red. He knew Dr. Anyon was only teasing, and he had approved Lin's application to become Bain's guardian and teacher from the beginning. That still didn't help.

"Spacers don't waste talent." Lin shook her head. "You need us for something, Gil. Just how reluctant were you to ask us this time?"

"We're recruiting all the Spacers we can this time. We have a drug that should cure most of the plagues the Mashrami are throwing at us, not just a vaccine to hopefully prevent it from catching. We need everyone who is willing to take the risk, to ferry the ill to centrally placed hospital ships. You'll have a doctor and two medics assigned to your ship--if you agree--and your hold will be a dormitory again." Captain Gilmore sat back in his chair, as if saying those words had released a load of tension from his body. The movement revealed new strands of silver in his hair. Bain thought he saw new tension lines around his mouth and eyes, dark streaks in the cinnamon-colored skin.

"Full of the sick and dying, instead of the frightened or arrogant." Lin nodded. "Just the sick?"

"We can't spare the time or resources to evacuate planets that aren't in the line of invasion. We just don't have the facilities. You'll leave medicine, and equipment to contain and destroy the plague bombs that remain, and we'll send troops to take care of future problems, but that's all we can do. Getting the infected away from the healthy is half the battle."

Bain realized in that moment, listening to the heavy ache in Gil's voice, the Ranger didn't like the orders he was giving. He didn't want to leave those people on a planet where more plague bombs could appear. Leaving equipment, medicine, instructions and the promise of future help wasn't enough.

We need more people and faster ships and more scientists to help everyone, he decided. Bain thought of his cracking voice and other 'growing pains' and wished he could finish growing up so he could do something to help.

"What's the other half of the battle?" Lin asked.

"Finding a way to keep those plague bombs from hitting the planets at all," Dr. Anyon said. "Right now, our medicine cures the Mashrami plagues. What very few know is that the plagues are starting to mutate. The vaccines we developed two years ago don't have half the effectiveness."

"Anyone who goes in to help, who gets even a minimal exposure, could be completely unprotected," Gil said.

"But that's only if the plague has mutated, right?" Bain said. He waited, feeling a cold spot of fear deep inside, until the captain nodded. "Even half effective is better than no vaccine at all, right?"

"He's too much like you, Lin," Dr. Anyon said.

Bain grinned. He wanted to laugh, but he couldn't. He stayed quiet and he listened as Lin and Captain Gilmore made arrangements. Sunsinger's hold would once again be transformed into a dormitory. There would be twice as many bunk racks with net beds because this time, there would be no exercise wheel or tables and chairs. Dr. Anyon had requested assignment to Sunsinger, and he and his two medics would stay on the bridge. A decontamination airlock would be installed in the access tube between the bridge and the cargo hold, and another just inside the airlock leading from the cargo hold out of the ship. The vaccines, decontamination protocols and airlocks would cut the chance of spreading the infection as much as possible.

Bain suspected he should be afraid, worried by all the caution. Right now, he could only feel that tightening inside his body, the excitement of a new challenge and certain danger facing them.

By late afternoon, Sunsinger's hold had become a dormitory again. Not the dormitory Bain had known when he first stepped aboard the ship. That had felt comforting, almost homey, with places for study and exercise, filled with other children. This dormitory had a cramped, silent feeling. The bunk frames put less space between the net beds. Everything was silver-coated alloy, to prevent retention of bacteria and fight transmission of the new, mutating plagues. The nets weren't made of the slightly stretchy rope Bain had slept in, but hard, unyielding plastic that prevented disease settling into fibers to grow. The entire hold smelled hot with disinfectant and antiseptic.

A tall refrigeration unit filled the space where the food-processing center had sat. It wouldn't hold meal packs, but the massive quantities of medicine Sunsinger would carry. Next to it, where the sanitary had been, the Ranger technicians installed a huge, black and silver box twice the size. It had more dials and flashing lights than Bain's half of the control panel on the bridge. This mechanism would process soiled clothes and bedding, disinfecting it and analyzing the secretions from the sick people.

He was almost relieved when a second, smaller refrigeration unit was brought in and the head technician asked him to help them load it. This unit would hold the liquid food packs for the ill. When the plagues had progressed enough to be visible, the victim had already reached the point of being unable to eat. Still, they needed nutrition and liquids to replenish what the fevers burned off. Until the sick fell unconscious, they could suck nutrition from the bubble packs. It was designed to absorb quickly into their systems and give them the strength and moisture needed to heal before their stomachs decided to reject it. Bain was curious about the contents of the silver, slightly sloshing packets, but not curious enough to taste it when a friendly technician offered to open one for him. He hoped the plague victims would be too sick to notice what they were eating.

Lin and Bain went to the Cutlass to have supper with Captain Gil. Dr. Anyon and his two medics joined them. Both were young, with short, glossy black curls, coffee-and-cream skin and startling, dark blue eyes. Brother and sister, twins, Devon and Dena Hayn.

Dena sat next to Captain Gil when they settled down at the table. Bain choked on his first sip of chocolate when the captain took hold of her hand. They held hands in full view of everyone, their arms resting on the table between them.

"Bain?" Lin handed him a napkin to wipe the dark brown spots off the front of his new, pearly blue vest. He gestured across the table at the captain and medic. "Oh." Her mouth twisted into a crooked, half-grin. "You have some good news for us, Gil?"

"Very good news." Gil chuckled. "Did you know, medics are considered separate from any branch of the military, even if they do hold rank and can take over command functions?"

"Here we go again," Devon muttered. His sister, sitting next to him, gave him a sharp nudge in the side with her elbow.

"Told you to be careful," Dr. Anyon said. He sat on Gil's other side, next to Lin.

"What does that have to do with this?" Lin said, gesturing at their clasped hands.

"It means he can court a fellow officer of lower rank and not run the risk of a firing squad," Dena said with a hint of chiming laughter at the back of her voice.

"They're still holding to that archaic rule?" She shook her head, pretending disgust. "So, he really did court you? Properly? With presents and private dinners and speaking nicely to your blood relatives?"

"Properly," the young medic confirmed. She tugged back the cuff of her uniform jacket to reveal the braided band of blue, silver and green metal threads around her wrist.

"Congratulations." Lin lifted her cup of chocolate in a salute. "I'm proud of you, Gil."

"I'm a little proud of myself too," the captain said, his grin only growing wider. He tugged back his sleeve cuff to reveal a matching band on his wrist.

Bain understood now; those were betrothal bands, in lieu of rings. The military couldn't indulge in jewelry; rings, earrings, necklaces, anything that might attract energy or reflect light in a dangerous situation.

"When this particular mission is over," Gil continued, "we're taking some leave time for the ceremony. You will stand with me, won't you? You're the closest I have to real family."

"Gil." She grinned and wiped her eyes. "I'd be honored."

In moments the conversation shifted to learning about the twins' training and how they had managed to be assigned to the same ship together. Devon made the common error of assuming Lin was Bain's mother, and Dr. Anyon jumped in to explain the distant kinship and how the two had found each other and joined forces on Lenga.

How they all managed to avoid talking about the war and the Mashrami and the plagues, Bain couldn't quite decide. It was nice to spend an evening with old and new friends and not talk at least once about the war. Dena brought out a game she had learned as a child, played with stones on lines marked in the dust. She substituted tiny thermal-dots from her medical supplies, and marked lines with strips of paper on the tablecloth. Bain never could figure out the object of the game beyond getting his stones from one side of the grid to the other without being landed on and taken by the other players. The fact that he couldn't keep track of his pieces made it harder. He didn't care, though. It was fun to laugh and scheme and try to form temporary alliances with the other players.

By the end of the evening, they were comfortable with each other. They could talk. Bain thought that had been the purpose; to get over the strangeness and uncomfortable politeness so Dena and Devon and Dr. Anyon could travel on Sunsinger. They might be living together in close quarters for months, until the plagues were brought under control.

Sunsinger launched early the next morning, before the first tentative rays of sunrise peeked through the mists. Bain opened the hatch from the bridge and unrolled the ladder so Dr. Anyon and the twins could climb straight in, instead of going through the decontamination airlocks at either end of the cargo hold. He was still yawning, combing his hair with his fingers and trying to see with only one eye open as he climbed down the ladder to meet them. Bain was dressed, but his soft ship-shoes weren't buckled and his pants kept slipping down his hips because he forgot his belt.

The three medics carried duffel bags over their shoulders and Devon dragged a wheeled cart holding boxes and crates and four precious, padded bags full of diagnostic equipment that couldn't be left in the converted cargo hold. Bain looked at everything that had to be loaded up that ladder into the bridge, and he silently groaned. Lin was at the port master's office, taking care of some last-minute work, along with posting letters to friends, like Branda and Chryssa.

He consoled himself that because of the darkness of the early morning hour, no one could really see his face.

Lin returned to the ship before they had finished. Captain Gil followed a few minutes later. He clutched the last box under his arm and climbed up the ladder to the bridge.

Dena had been assigned to the cubicle next to Lin. Devon and Dr. Anyon would share a cubicle. When the hold was full of sick, the three medics would take duty shifts of two on-duty and one off at all times, so the crowded sleeping arrangements didn't really matter. The fifth cubicle on the bridge became the equipment storage area and makeshift laboratory. Dr. Anyon would spend what little free time he had in there, studying plague samples inside their isolation cases, trying to stay ahead of the mutations.

Most Rangers would patrol between the planets hit with the plague bombs, trying to backtrack their flight path and predict where the next ones would land. Their job, even more important than the medical personnel trying to cure the ill, was to keep the plague bombs from entering the atmosphere of any planet.

It took far less time than Bain thought, to settle everyone in their cubicles and strap down the equipment and gear and be ready for launch.

Captain Gil made formal farewells with Dr. Anyon and Devon. The two men then headed down into the transformed hold to the stasis chairs that had been installed for the medical team. Dena and Gil crawled back down the ladder and said their good-byes outside. Bain didn't miss the slightly teary look in her eyes. Curiosity fought with good manners and the certain knowledge their good-bye would be full of romantic sentiment. Bain kept himself busy checking the control panel while Lin was down in the hold, checking the connections for the stasis chairs one last time. He didn't hear a thing either one said.

"All set," Dena said, as she climbed back through the hatch onto the bridge. She fussed with her uniform, straightening jacket and shirt and pants.

"You're sure?" Bain paused with his hand on the control to shut the hatch.

"Please. If it doesn't shut soon, he'll probably climb back up and change his mind." She smiled and rubbed at her eyes. A glint of moisture on her hand gave away the tears she had been fighting not to shed.

"Why didn't Captain Gil keep you on the Cutlass?" he asked. "Wouldn't it be safer?"

"Maybe. I wouldn't let him pamper me." Dena shrugged and headed across the bridge for the access tube to the hold. "Is everybody else set to go?"

"Lin's probably waiting for you to come down and strap in, then we can launch." He pressed the switch to close the hatch and watched the door swing shut.

"Good."

"Why would he be pampering you if you stayed on his ship?" Bain hoped he wasn't rude, asking questions like that.

"All the other medics are taking risks. We don't really have any assurance the new vaccines will work, or the plagues won't mutate beyond our abilities to counteract them. He has a lot of confidence in Sunsinger and you and Captain Lin, if he'll let me travel with you."

"Oh." He turned to watch her. She paused in the doorway, wearing a little smile.

"It's not easy, having so much responsibility for people. Wanting to protect people but knowing you can't." Dena shook her head. A few strands of hair came loose from her clips. "We both hope that if we have children, they all take after me and go into the Medic Corps, and not Command Corps."

"But we need people like Captain Gil."

"We need healers more. It's easy to fight; it's harder to put the pieces back together after the battle is over."

Bain nodded that he understood. He turned back to the control panel and studied the flashing lights.

Healers were needed more than warriors. He could understand that. Healers and scientists and explorers and builders. People to sneak in and rescue those who were in trouble, and find out what was wrong. People to fix things instead of people who only knew how to fight. Defenders, rather than warriors.

"Someday, we'll have people like that," Bain whispered. A green light flashed, signaling all three stasis chairs were functioning. He pressed the series of switches that would take the ship's engines from warm idle to active status.

"Healers?" Ganfer asked.

"Yeah, healers. And people who know how to get into dangerous places without anybody knowing they're there. They can explore and know why plants and animals react like they do, and keep colonists from getting into trouble when they land on a new planet. Little groups, not whole squadrons." Bain sighed, knowing he was making a mangled mess of his dream. Someday, he would know exactly what was needed and how to express his dreams so others would work with him. "All the ships would have Spacers for pilots, so they could go anywhere they had to be, fast. They'd be ready for anything."

"That sounds very useful. How will you bring these people together and train them?" the ship-brain asked after a few moments of silence.

"I don't know." He sighed again; louder. "When I'm old enough, I'll know how."

"Don't be in a hurry to grow up too fast," Lin said. She stepped onto the bridge and hurried to her seat at the control panel. "Oh, good, everything's set." She winked at Bain. "I don't know how I ever got along without you as my crew."

"You told me to do it," Ganfer answered.

"Nothing I say is going to be a good enough reply, so I'm not even going to try." She tightened her safety strap and played her hands over the controls. "Let's go."

The first colony world where Sunsinger landed was solid green-blue forest cut by the muddy brown lines of rivers. Only one village, twelve Standard years old, made up the colony. It was so new, the planet still went by its identification numbers, not a name. Sunsinger landed between two overflowing rivers and the medical team went to work.

Bain and Lin weren't allowed to step foot on the planet. It was spring here, and the humidity and heat contributed to the spread of the plague. The decontamination airlock between cargo hold and bridge was kept closed. The medical team wore protective suits and carried heavy canisters of compressed air in harnesses on their backs. Until Dr. Anyon ran his tests, they had no guarantee the regular breather filters and antiseptics would work.

Dr. Anyon vaccinated and examined all the healthy members of the colony and taught their resident healer how to administer more medicine if they needed it. He left medical texts for identifying the plague variations that had appeared on other worlds. The last piece of equipment was an emergency signal code that would break through all the other communications chatter wandering through the galaxy. The Rangers would pick up the signal and know what planet it came from, and that would save time in sending help. Timely diagnosis and treatment could turn out to be the greatest weapon the Rangers and Medic Corps had.

Four hours after Sunsinger landed, it launched again. Twenty-four net bunks were filled with plague victims in various stages of suffering. There were no colony worlds close enough for another stop before they rendezvoused with the Ranger hospital ship Mercy. Lin programmed in the course for the nearest Knaught Point and settled down to wring as much speed from Sunsinger as she could without damaging the engines.

Dr. Anyon came up to the bridge after Sunsinger had cleared orbit, leaving the twins to take care of their patients. He spent nearly ten minutes in the decontamination cycle of the airlock, scrubbing and cleansing his suit and then testing the air to make sure no bacteria or other dangerous microbes were alive. The air reeked bitterly of antiseptics when the airlock door swung open, letting the doctor out onto the bridge.

"Thank you," Dr. Anyon gasped, as Bain hurried to help him remove his helmet.

He hunched his shoulders and released the buckles for the air canister harness. The metal cylinders clanged loudly as they hit the wall, then bounced off and started floating up toward the ceiling. Bain hurried to grab the air tanks and hook them into place in the compression bay. By the time Dr. Anyon headed down into the cargo hold again, the tanks would be full of clean, compressed air.

"Bad down there?" Lin said. She glanced away from the controls once and gave the doctor a once-over look.

"Not too bad. The worst case hasn't reached the delirium stage yet. Fevers, chills, nausea, and a tendency to fall asleep in the middle of conversations." He shrugged his way out of his protective suit and hung it up on one of the hooks next to the airlock.

"What do you think it is?" Bain asked.

"You mean, something new or an old enemy?" He dug through the pockets of the suit until he withdrew a sample tube. "We'll find out in a few minutes." Dr. Anyon paused before pushing off to fly over to the makeshift lab. He grinned and flexed his shoulders. "You don't realize how heavy those air tanks are until they're off your back. Even in free-fall, they feel like fifty kilos."

"Doctor ?" Lin began.

"All the symptoms make me think it's one of the first strains we encountered."

"Is that good?" Bain asked. He wrapped an absorbent sheet around the still-wet suit and pushed off from the wall to follow the doctor to the work cubicle.

"The fewer mutated diseases we encounter, the easier our jobs will be and the less suffering our patients will endure. It also means less trouble for the healthy people left behind. If they get vaccinated and take their boosters, they won't get sick."

"Oh. Good." Bain wondered if he should spend more time on his medical studies unit.

Questions were fine, and Dr. Anyon was like Lin in encouraging questions as a way of learning; but if he asked too many questions, Bain knew he would only be getting in the way. He could even slow down the progress of treatment. He didn't want to do that.

He perched on the edge of the bench that used to be a bed and watched as Dr. Anyon slid the sample tube into the diagnostic unit, sealed it, and used the mechanical hands to open the tube and manipulate the samples of blood and skin, hair and excrement.

"No mutation," Dr. Anyon said less than twenty minutes later. He stepped back from the diagnostic unit and grinned at Bain. "We don't need those wretched suits for protection and you just might get drafted to help in the hold if we get desperate."

"That's a hint for you to say more prayers on behalf of the sick," Lin said. She got up from her place at the control panel and flew over to the galley. "Anyone for tea?"

"Please." He grinned and rubbed at his bloodshot eyes. "Bain, could you call down to the hold and tell Dena and Devon they can take off their suits?"

"Sure." Bain floated over to the control panel and punched in the commands to open communications between the bridge and the radios in the protective suits.

Devon took the news with a whoop of relief. Dena sighed and thanked him. Dr. Anyon took cups of tea down to them when he left a few minutes later. There were the ill to attend to, after all, and no respite until they had reached the Mercy and unloaded their patients.

An hour later, Bain took meal packs down to the medics. He was hungry for his own dinner until he smelled the peculiar aroma of sickness, composed of bitter sweat and the acid smell of vomit, the sickly sweetness of infection in open sores and the metallic taint of pain. He felt like a coward afterwards, but Bain hurried to put down the hot meal packs on the counter where the three medics could reach them, and flew back up to the bridge. He felt queasy until the airlock closed and locked the smell of the hold behind its thick doors. Even then, Bain thought he could smell that particular odor seeping through the ventilation system, despite the special filters and disinfectants. When he went to bed that night, he thought he heard the moans and whimpers of the sick through his dreams.

The pattern repeated through four trips. Sunsinger landed on a small, isolated colony that hadn't grown beyond the first village site. The medical team disembarked in protective suits, carrying the vaccine. They examined the sick and brought them on board, then left medicine and instructions and equipment for the healthy being left behind. Isolation protocol went into effect until Dr. Anyon diagnosed the plague variant afflicting the ill. If Bain and Lin had been inoculated for that particular strain, then the medics could go without their protective suits and Bain or Lin could come down into the hold to help.

If they weren't inoculated, or the strain had shown any signs of mutation, no matter how small, the protective suits came on, the airlocks stayed locked, and the medical team lived in the hold except for four-hour sleep shifts. They spent a minimum of fifteen minutes at a time in the decontamination cycle of the airlock.

On the fifth trip, two people died during the launch. Dr. Anyon reported the deaths to Lin over the communication link. He didn't come onto the bridge until eight hours later. By that time, five more people had died. He was silent and pale and confined himself to the makeshift lab. He worked over the diagnostic unit long through the night shift. Bain didn't dare ask the doctor any questions.

The plague hadn't mutated in any form that Dr. Anyon could identify. His theory, reluctantly formed, was that the people had been so weakened by the plague and had gone so long without food or water, they hadn't been able to take the stress of launching and breaking orbit.

Even then, Lin wouldn't let Bain go down into the hold to help. He would have argued with her, but Bain was frightened by Lin's utter quietness, the dark shadows haunting her eyes, and the whiteness of strain around her mouth. He was curious about the dead bodies, even though they frightened him. What would plague-killed people look like? Bain kept quiet after the first time Lin refused to let him go down to the hold. Dr. Anyon had asked for him to bring food down, and the man didn't argue when Lin refused. They compromised by putting hot food packs in the airlock, and Devon came up the access tube to retrieve the food.

That night, Bain woke from a sound sleep to hear Lin crying at her station on the bridge. She leaned over the control panel, head resting in her hands, the tears slowly puddling in the air around her face. Free-fall and crying, Bain realized, didn't work well together.

The next day, Bain didn't ask again about going down into the hold. Lin never cried. This had to be far worse than he imagined, if the death of strangers could make her cry in the night.

It was a relief to unload these patients, dead and alive, and get as far away from the Mercy and this particular sector of space as possible.