Dead World [Sunsinger Chronicles Book 3] Read online

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  Dead World [Sunsinger Chronicles Book 3]

  by Michelle Levigne

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  Science Fiction

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  Writers Exchange E-Publishing

  www.writers-exchange.com/epublishing

  Copyright ©

  First published in Writers Exchange E-Publishing, 2002

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

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  Chapter One

  “Almost done with that?” Lin stood up straight, and wiped her sweating face with her green and blue-flowered sleeve.

  “Almost.” Bain stayed kneeling, and wiped his face as well.

  Though it was only early spring on Kesley, the heat made Bain think of his years on Lenga. The humidity made a difference, as Lin had promised him when they landed. Every breath he took tasted and felt like steam. Bain would have dressed in shorts and nothing else, but he needed long sleeves and pants and heavy shoes to protect him while he worked in Sunsinger's hold. Working during the day was miserable, heavy, slow and draining. The only saving grace was that at night, Bain and Lin retreated to the bridge, where they kept the air cool and dry.

  He and Lin altered the cargo hold from passenger quarters to cargo-carrying capability again. The humid, thick air gushed into the hold through the open hatch. It had to stay open to let the spaceport's technicians carry out the bunks and chairs and cabinets. With the war still raging against the Mashrami, and refugees moving further away from the battle lines, those pieces of furniture were needed.

  “Last trip, I promise,” Lin said. She walked over to where Bain knelt, removing the last locking bolts that had held the bunk frames to the deck.

  “It had better be.” Bain gestured around the empty hold. The place practically echoed. “The only thing left to remove is the insulation!”

  It was almost ten Standard months since he had first come on board Sunsinger, and helped transform the cargo hold into a dormitory for the orphans on Lenga. Bain could hardly remember what the cargo hold looked like without the bunk frames and net beds and the rows of stasis chairs. He didn't know if he liked the change or not.

  “Not that. At least, I hope not.” Lin tucked a few strands of her dark hair back into her braid. They had worked loose in the humidity and the strain of bending and lifting and working on the deck plates. “I think I'm looking forward to a few dull cargo runs. It'll be a nice change. Don't you think so, Ganfer?”

  “My sensors will appreciate the reduction in duties during space flight,” the ship-brain said, his voice coming through both their collar links.

  “The last batch of passengers wasn't so bad,” Bain commented. He had actually liked the hold full of scientists they had brought here to Kesley. The men and women had stayed in the hold, discussing their research. They hadn't bothered Lin or Bain with ridiculous demands or screams of fear every time the ship changed speed. It had been a nice change from the five previous shiploads of refugees, who kept trying to come up the access tube to the bridge. Either they were afraid of the cargo hold, or they didn't like sharing living space with so many other people, or they were snobs who thought they deserved better. Several people had tried buying space in the bridge cubicles. When Lin turned them down, they had threatened lawsuits. Nothing had happened yet, despite all their threats and boasts of knowing important, powerful people. Bain didn't know if it was because Sunsinger's busy schedule kept Lin ahead of the messages and subpoenas, or because the war kept nasty, arrogant people like their former passengers from pestering busy starship captains. Maybe, he thought, the fact that Lin worked for the military—and that they liked her—kept people from bothering Sunsinger's captain.

  None of that mattered now. There were no refugees to be taken to safe planets. The military and the Colonization Authority wanted equipment taken from Kesley to Banner; from Banner to Amply; from Amply to Batterfield. That schedule would keep them busy and paid and safely away from the fighting lines for the next six months. Bain almost couldn't imagine six months of nothing but learning the finer points of piloting Sunsinger and taking care of the ship. He could concentrate on some of his lessons, too.

  “Caught up on your studies?” Lin said. She laughed when Bain just stared at her. “Let me guess, you were thinking about all that free time we'll have when we're between planets, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Every Spacer loves the freedom from petty, planetbound, arrogant people, Bain. It's natural that I'd be thinking in the same direction as you.” She offered him a hand, and tugged, helping him to his feet.

  Bain groaned and straightened up slowly. His back muscles ached from bending over for hours at a time. His knees felt like they had frozen into their bent position. The bones creaked and threatened to snap—just for a moment—as he finished standing straight.

  “Branda is going to faint when she sees you,” Lin said with another chuckle. “I swear you gain at least a centimeter every day.” She stepped back and tilted her head back, pretending to shade her eyes to look up at him.

  Bain's face got hot. It felt strange that he was nearly looking Lin in the eye now, instead of looking up at her. He couldn't really remember when he had started growing so quickly. He only knew that one day his favorite pants felt tight in the waist, and a few days later, his boots were too tight. Then, only a few days after that, his shirt wouldn't button down the front when he put it on. Lin had laughed and taken him shopping. She told him to buy clothes that were a little too big, because he would grow into them. Bain wondered how long he would continue growing into his clothes.

  “It's nice we can meet Branda for dinner.”

  “Nice? It's a major miracle she's here on Kesley at all! This humidity isn't good for her instruments. I shudder thinking of all that thin, beautiful wood warping from the moisture and heat.” She wiped at her face again. “I don't know how she even found out we were here.”

  “Dr. Hoon and the others probably went to the market as soon as they moved into their new houses,” Bain offered. “Maybe she heard them talking about riding on Sunsinger.”

  “That's probably it. Well, we're going to have a nice family reunion tonight. Make sure your harp is tuned, because I know Branda is going to demand a few songs from you.” She looked around the hold. “I'll go get the technicians to bring their cart in, while you get that last bolt. The sooner we get the hold closed up, the better.” She hurried down the ramp from the hatch, and disappeared.

  Bain nodded and went back to his knees. He swallowed hard to keep from groaning. His back and knees had stiffened while he had stood talking with Lin. Still, he didn't mind. This was the last bolt to be removed. In ten minutes, he would be free to run—or maybe crawl—up the tube to the bridge. In the cool, dry air, he could peel off his sweaty, sticky, dirty clothes, and wash.


  If he ever went back to Lenga, Bain decided, he would never complain about the dry heat again.

  “Oh, almost forgot,” Lin said, as she strode back up the ramp. “I checked, and you can take your next level tests at the Scholastica here, or on Banner. If you're ready, it would be better if you took them here.”

  “Might as well take them here.” Bain slid the wrench into place over the bolt and jerked hard on the handle. The bolt head creaked and groaned in protest, but it did come loose with the first try.

  “You don't sound too sure of yourself.” She knelt next to him, and helped him turn the wrench so he didn't have to keep taking it off and placing it again.

  “I figure, if I don't know this math level and my second century history by now, I never will.”

  “You're doing fine, Bain. You're a smart boy—even if I am a little prejudiced.” Lin reached over and tousled his hair. She gave a disgusted little sigh and wiped her damp hand on her shirttails. In another moment, she and Bain were both laughing.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

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  Chapter Two

  Branda had rented a house on the edge of the spaceport's market zone. She entertained her distant relatives there with a multi-course, home-cooked meal. They sat on the floor at a round table only half a meter high, and leaned back against pillows between courses.

  Everything was bright with color and clashing geometric patterns. The tabletop was inlaid with blue, gold and red tiles. There was no picture that Bain could see, but he liked the swirling pattern that led his eyes in to the center of the table. The thick rug they sat on displayed overlapping circles and squares in purple, green and gold. The pillows were every color imaginable, every shade of green and scarlet, purple and yellow; solid colors, stripes and checks. Bain, Lin and Branda each had five pillows to lean against. As they ate, Bain wondered if there were that many pillows in case they fell asleep from eating so much food at one sitting.

  Bain couldn't remember the last time he had seen so much food. Six bowls of hot and cold fruits swimming in bland, spicy, sweet and creamy sauces. Spicy rice and nutty grain dishes. Three platters of different meats; plain, drowning in a dark brown broth, and covered in a thick, creamy yellow sauce. Five different colors of beans, plus six bowls of vegetables Bain had never seen before. Tiny loaves of bread were served steaming hot with a little revolving tray of different fruit jellies, and even a rare pot of honey. And pitchers of chocolate to drink.

  The best part, though, was Branda's ability to close up all the doors and windows, and turn on the climate control. The room was dry and cool and comfortable. Bain didn't feel like he worked up a sweat every time he stood up or turned around.

  Branda hadn't changed at all since the last time they saw her, still with silver streaks in her hair and smiling. She wore a loose, long blue dress of many layers. Bain wondered how she could feel comfortable in the heat and damp of Kesley, in all those layers of cloth.

  “I can't get over how much you've grown,” Branda murmured.

  Bain laughed. He couldn't help it. He had been waiting all evening for Branda to say how tall he had grown since they saw each other last. Lin had warned him the woman would make a fuss over his ‘growth spurt,’ as she called it. They had eaten dinner and finished dessert, and Branda hadn't said anything until now. Bain had hoped she wouldn't say anything, just so he could tease Lin about it. As usual, though, Lin had been right.

  “What's so funny?” the woman asked, looking back and forth between Bain and Lin. His face was red, and he sputtered as he tried to stop his giggles. Lin just grinned, and her shoulders shook with silent laughter.

  Lin finally explained.

  “You don't expect me to stay silent about it, do you?” Branda asked, with a few chuckles of her own. “You and I are two old hens with one chick between us. Of course I'm going to notice everything that changes in our boy.”

  Bain stopped laughing. He hadn't considered that point before. He, Lin and Branda were very distantly related, but they were the closest relatives each had. He remembered how alone and helpless he had felt when he was living in the orphanage on Lenga, and thought he had no one who really cared about him. He knew Fi'in cared, but Bain needed someone physical, to talk to and touch, to laugh with and scold him.

  “He's doing very well with his lessons,” Lin said. She poured herself another cup of chocolate. It had grown cold since they sat down to dinner, but Bain thought the cold tasted just as good as the hot. “He's supposed to take his quarterly tests to see how well he's progressing, but I'm not worried at all.”

  “I am,” Bain muttered.

  “Bain, you were ahead of your year-mates at your last test,” Branda said. “Why should you be worried this time?”

  “Because it's all new lessons. It's all things they never would have taught us in the orphanage.” He shrugged and slouched back a little more into the cushions behind him. “I like learning all these new things, but I'm scared that I'm not learning them the right way.”

  “If you enjoy your studies, that's half the battle,” Lin said.

  “It feels like a battle.”

  “Sometimes it is.” Branda shook her head, still smiling. “Speaking of lessons, how are you doing with that harp?”

  “We thought you would never ask,” Lin said. She reached over to the table against the wall in the corner, where the cases for Bain's harp and her flute sat. “Bain's been trying to recreate the music he's been hearing when we're in flight.”

  “We all do,” the woman said, with a sigh that turned into a chuckle. “Frustrated?”

  “No,” Bain said.

  “He's turning into quite a composer. It's a good thing Ganfer tapes everything when Bain is experimenting, or we would have lost quite a few nice little pieces.” Lin opened the harp case, and handed the small, lap-held instrument over to Bain. “He'd better perform the one that sounds like the Knaught Point leading to Boothby,” she said, with a teasing, warning growl in her voice. Bain just grinned at her.

  “He's captured that sound?” Branda sounded as eager as Bain felt when someone offered him a new book disk.

  “I've tried.” Bain felt his face start to warm. That particular piece was his favorite, and he was proud of it.

  Still, he felt rather odd about performing it for anyone. As Lin had said, if Ganfer hadn't recorded the songs Bain had been experimenting with, it would have been lost forever. Maybe Lin was right, and he should add music composition to his lesson schedule, just so he could make the right musical notations—and understand them—to keep the songs forever.

  He tested the strings of his harp, to make sure they were in tune. Lin took her flute out of its case and put the pieces together. She did a few test runs up and down the scale, matching the notes to the strings as Bain plucked.

  Branda scooted back into her nest of pillows and wriggled a few times until she found the right position for listening in comfort.

  Four rapid, hard thuds on the door in the next room made all three flinch and sit up straight. Bain grinned at the way his heart skipped a beat and raced for a few seconds. Lin closed her eyes and put down her flute.

  “Who could that be at this time of the night?” Branda muttered. She scooted out of her nest of pillows and scrambled to her feet.

  “Sensible people should be in bed,” Lin said.

  “On Kesley, sensible people wait until the cool of the night to travel or conduct business,” she responded and stepped into the next room to answer the door.

  Bain set his harp down on the carpet next to him, and scooted up onto his knees, to try to look around the corner into the front room of the house. He heard men's voices, but they spoke softly.

  “Eavesdropping isn't nice,” Lin said, with a grin. She picked up a candy stick that looked like a miniature tree and bit off the top fronds. The aroma of spearmint filled the air.

  “I'm not eavesdropping,” Bain protested. His face got warm when Lin just shook her head and chuckled.
“I can't hear anything, so how can I—” He froze as two men in black-on-olive Ranger uniforms followed Branda back into the room.

  Lin turned to look. She blinked a few times, then grinned and held her hand out to the man with captain stripes and stars on his shoulders and cuffs.

  “What are you doing here, Gil?”

  Captain Gilmore of the Rangers didn't smile, but he took hold of Lin's hand and squeezed. His cinnamon-colored face looked thinner than when Bain had seen him ten months ago. There were a few strands of silver in his coal-black, thick hair.

  “You know—? Well, of course you know him.” Branda sighed. “Captain, can I offer you and your lieutenant anything?”

  “No thank you, Mistress. Unfortunately, we're here on business. War business,” Gil added. He released Lin's hand. “I didn't want to interrupt your evening, but I couldn't be sure how long you'd be in port, Lin.”

  “Trouble?” Lin scrambled to her feet. She tugged her long tunic straight, and glanced back and forth between the two men. “Good news or bad?”

  “We'd prefer to talk about this in your ship. Maybe Ganfer should have some input.”

  “Oh, that's a danger sign if I ever heard one.”

  Bain knew there was trouble coming. Lin only wore that thin-lipped smile when she braced herself for something dangerous or painful. Her eyes didn't sparkle, but looked dark and deep, like the starless patches of space.

  “Do you want Ganfer to talk her into something?” Bain asked. He stood, too, and stepped around the curve of the table to stand by Lin's side.

  “To be honest, I hope he gives us information that will keep you from helping us,” Captain Gilmore said. He glanced at his lieutenant and nodded sharply. The young, blond officer saluted and turned to go into the front room.

  “Whatever you have to say, Gil, you can say here and now. Branda is Spacer blood, and kin to both Bain and me.” Lin crossed her arms. “What is it?”

  “We need your help.”