Gemar [Sunsinger Chronicles Book 9] Read online

  “We have to make sure they don't leave, or do anything to Rhiann."

  Trinia didn't ask how they would do that, without weapons or sensors or any kind of mechanical help. She didn't have to ask; her face was clearly easy to read.

  Staying to the shadows, Bain and Trinia crept up to the house. They saw no one moving on the street or in any of the houses. No animals moved among the rubble and shadows. If the entire street was abandoned, Bain wouldn't have been surprised.

  They reached the door without incident. Bain wished he could just open the door and walk in, but he knew that was ridiculous. He had to find some other way in, that wouldn't let the kidnappers know they were coming; a way to sneak up on them.

  “Climb?” Trinia whispered, her breath warm on Bain's ear. She jerked her thumb around the side of the house and grinned. Bain followed her.

  A gridwork of metal bars interlaced with dead vines climbed all the way up to a deep ledge and a recessed window on the second floor of the house. Some time in the past, when this neighborhood had been pleasant and families lived here, someone had a garden with climbing vines.

  “I'll go first,” Bain whispered.

  “Shouldn't I? I'm lighter than you.” Trinia reached for the bar at shoulder height.

  “Maybe.” He tilted his head back and looked up. “What kind of self-defense training do you have?"

  “I can kick and scream really loud.” She touched her own collar link. “Usually, we just keep track of each other. People know we're Spacers and they don't bother us."

  “Yeah, well, Rhiann is wearing her Leaper uniform and someone took her anyway.” He shook his head and looked up at that ledge again. “I should go first, and make sure the way is safe for you."

  Trinia didn't answer. She looked up at the ledge, swallowed hard, and nodded as she stepped back from the grid. She sketched a salute and gave Bain a thin-lipped smile as he reached for the first bar.

  The bar was caked with dirt and dry vines that splintered under his hands. Bain gritted his teeth when several sharp splinters dug into his palms. He couldn't afford to stop and dig them out. He didn't know if he could dig them out. He tried to think about what he would do when he reached that ledge, to ignore the itching, sharp feeling of the splinters pressing deeper into his flesh with every new grip on the next bar.

  When he reached the top, he paused and looked down at Trinia. She waved and stepped back into the shadows. Bain realized then he had forgotten something important, like deciding what signal he would use to tell her it was safe to come up, and what signal would mean she had to run and get help.

  The ledge turned out to be an alcove a little more than a meter deep. The window was broken. Decades of grime coated the walls and the floor of the alcove. Bain saw holes where bars had formed a railing, to keep someone from falling out of the alcove. He supposed this had been a little balcony at one time, and the owner of the house could come up here to enjoy the fresh air and the flowers that had climbed all the way to the top of the grid.

  Getting from the grid into the alcove was the tricky part. There were no hand-holds. The grid stopped at the lip of the alcove. The grit and grime made for a slippery surface. He couldn't dig his hands into anything to pull himself up.

  “Please, Fi'in, help me,” Bain whispered. He held onto the very top bar of the grid and pulled his feet up to the bar immediately underneath it. Gritting his teeth, he tried to lean forward, so if he started to fall he would slide into the alcove instead of down to the ground.

  For five long seconds, Bain perched there, bent nearly double, staring at the grimy, gritty surface ahead of him. His fingers cramped and didn't want to let go. His back ached from bending so far. A few tears started to well up in his eyes.

  Now! Bain tore his hands free and threw himself forward. His boots caught on the bar—but he landed facedown, from his hips up on the floor of the alcove and his nose almost touching the shards of the broken plastic pane of the window. Bain grinned at his success and took a deep breath.

  He immediately choked, coughing and gagging on the dust his fall had raised. Bain turned over, clamping both filthy hands over his mouth to muffle the sound.

  It took forever to stop coughing, his whole body jerking with the effort. Bain tasted dirt on his hands.

  There has to be an easier way to do this.

  Then, for some reason, he started to laugh. He held his hands over his mouth to muffle that sound, and turned over so he was on his knees.

  A few jerks freed the last broken bits of pane from the window. Bain peered into the room. It was littered with wind-blown debris. The walls and floor were warped with rain and snow blown in over the decades. The door hung open on a broken hinge. Well, he thought, at least it wasn't locked.

  He leaned back to the edge and peered down into the shadows. He didn't see Trinia anywhere. Bain hissed, twice, before she stepped out of the shadows. She was good at hiding when she wanted to be invisible. Bain waved at her. She nodded and waved back and reached for the shoulder-height bar. Bain hissed again, getting her attention. He shook his head, and for good measure drew his finger across his throat. Trinia stared at him for a few seconds, then waved and stepped back and into the shadows.

  At least she understood. It had been hard enough for him to get up there. Bain didn't know if he could help her get onto the edge of the alcove and climb in. Now that he didn't have Trinia to worry about, he could go inside.

  The floor of the room creaked when he stepped down onto it, but not loudly enough to muffle the sound of voices directly under his feet. The kidnappers and Rhiann were still in the house. Now, Bain realized, the problem was getting down to the next floor. Did this house have stairs, or did it have a lift-tube when the neighborhood was still nice? The only way was to find out. Bain braced himself and reached for the door. It creaked, low and whining like a sick child on the one remaining hinge. The voices in the room below didn't pause.

  Out in the hall now, Bain debated whether he should close the door or leave it open. He didn't want to think about having to make his escape back down that grid. Then he looked down at his feet. His boots left deep tracks in the gray-brown dust and grime coating the floor. There was nothing he could do to hide his presence now, if someone came upstairs.

  He found the stairs a moment later. They were narrow, switching back three times as they descended to the floor below, constructed to use as little space as possible. The stair treads were coated with a thick, unbroken layer of dirt that all but obliterated the blue and yellow diamonds in the floor covering. However long Rhiann's kidnappers had been using the house, they had never climbed upstairs. If they didn't go upstairs, then they might not consider trouble coming from upstairs.

  Bain climbed down, staying on the edge of the treads against the wall, where the supports had to be the strongest. He paused at every creak, every snap, every thud that moved through the house. He paused twice as long every time the kidnappers stopped talking.

  When he paused at the second landing, ready to turn and take the third short flight of steps to reach the ground floor, when he realized he heard something else. The soft, nearly subliminal humming was familiar. It sent a chill up his back as he wracked his brains trying to remember. Then three short, high-pitched beeps interrupted the sound.

  “She's in good health, at least,” the older man said. “Can you give her another dose to keep her out while we're working?"

  They were using a medical scanner on her, Bain realized. Why would they do that? What did they want with Rhiann? Had those men been trying to grab Rhiann in the first place, using the attack on the administration building as a diversion? He knew Rhiann would be ill, then furious if that were true. He knew his friend would blame herself for her mother's death.

  Bain peered around the corner. He saw a long streamer of blue-white light spilling out through a doorway into the front hallway of the house. He crept down the last four steps, hugging the wall for support. It didn't matter to him that his clothes rubbed a
long, torso-deep swath of grime from the walls. Blue paint appeared from under the decades-old coating of gray-brown crud.

  “It shouldn't affect what we want,” the younger man said after a long pause. “Do we want to leave her alive? She could identify us."

  “Only if she wakes up while we're working. Besides, I don't like hearing them scream when we take the tissue samples."

  Bain clenched his fists and swallowed hard against an acid churning rising up in his throat. Fury made his heart thud hard and loud in his ears.

  They were going to hurt Rhiann. They treated her like a lab sample and didn't care if they hurt her. What could he do? He had to do something.

  “We should leave her alive, though, if we want more samples later. Besides, she's young enough for breeding,” the younger man said.

  “Why don't we just harvest one of her ovaries while we're at it?” the older man said with a chuckle.

  “They'll know it was definitely us if we do that.” He sighed. “Nobody knows we're here and I'd like to keep it that way."

  “Correction,” his companion broke in with a snarl. “Nobody has any proof we're here, but they've heard plenty of rumors."

  “Then we don't take any samples—or organs—that could verify the Gen'gineers are at work on Gemar, correct?"

  Silence from the older man. Bain peered around the final corner, into the room.

  It was a laboratory, pristine silver and white, sterile and clean, with a cleanser field generator framing the only door into the room. Rhiann lay on an examination table, strapped down at her wrists and ankles. A long light bar on a pivot arm hung over her. Three tall, meter-wide, portable data processing units stood in a row, with trays of equipment lying on top of them.

  The two men had changed into clean-suits; crinkly silver material that covered them from the neck to their fingertips and toes. They wore hoods of the same material, and breather masks. In the silence, they worked on recording the medical scanner data, and looked up to glare at each other from time to time.

  “All right,” the older one said. He ran a vibra-knife up the front of Rhiann's jacket, completely ignoring the slide closure, and peeled it away to reveal her silver-gray body suit. “Dead bodies would probably tip them off. We leave her naked and drugged out of her mind down near the Dregs. When those scum are finished playing with her, there won't be any evidence to link it to us."

  “That sounds reasonable.” The younger man put down his vibra-knife on the end of the table by Rhiann's feet. “Help me with the sub-dermal probe."

  The two men stepped over to a rack of equipment and unstrapped a meter-long arrangement of tubes and wires and crystal lenses.

  Rhiann was alone, just for a moment. Bain ran on his toes, ducking down below the height of the table. He snatched up the vibra-knife and slashed at Rhiann's ankle restraints. He kept the table between him and the two men, and cut the first wrist restraint. Now for the other one. He ducked under the table and paused, watching the two men.

  “Be careful, you moron!” the older one snapped. Something clanged, metal against metal. The two men scrambled to catch something Bain couldn't see, with their bodies between him and it.

  Whatever it was, they were too busy to notice him. Standing, he slashed at the last restraint.

  Now what?

  He ducked back down and put the table and unconscious Rhiann between himself and the men. He tucked the vibra-knife into his belt. He had a weapon now, at least. Bain tried not to think of how close he would have to get to an attacker to use it.

  Rhiann was still unconscious. She looked so small and helpless. Bain decided he could carry her. He would have to carry her to get out of there.

  Holding his breath, Bain stood and slid an arm under Rhiann's neck and another under her knees. He glanced over his shoulder, checking his path. Nothing behind him.

  Two more steps got him out of the maze of wires and equipment. Bain turned, putting his back to the kidnappers, who were still struggling with the recalcitrant piece of equipment. One more step took him through the sterile field generator.

  Rhiann moaned. Her muscles went from limp to tense in half a second. She twisted and moaned again.

  Bain tried to shift Rhiann to his shoulder as he crossed the short entry hallway to the door. He dropped her at the same moment a shout rang out.

  “Get him!” the older man snarled.

  Bain bent and snatched at Rhiann and tried to haul her over his shoulder one-handed. He reached for the vibra-knife in his belt with the other hand.

  The door exploded inward. A flood of scarlet and gray uniforms knocked Bain off his feet. He tumbled aside, dragging Rhiann with him. The only thought in his mind was keeping her from being stepped on.

  Hands grabbed him, yanking him to his feet. Other hands tried to tear Rhiann from his arms. Bain held onto her, one arm around her waist, and swung the vibra-knife. Somewhere far away, he heard shouts and the distinctive pop-hiss of multi-darts being fired.

  “Bain, it's all right!” Trinia shouted through the din. “That's Bain Kern. He's the one who went in after her."

  The hands let go and Bain nearly fell to the floor again. Someone reached out and supported him. The scarlet and gray bodies resolved into peace forcer uniforms streaming into the makeshift laboratory. Two peace forcers watched him, their frowns turning into grins. Then Trinia appeared in the doorway.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Fine. They drugged Rhiann,” Bain said. “Is anybody here a medic?"

  “Stop them!” someone shouted.

  “It's going up!” someone else shouted.

  “Out,” the stern-faced man standing next to Bain ordered. He grabbed Rhiann and slung her over his shoulder, grabbed Bain's jacket and had them both out the door in less than five seconds.

  They fell. All the peace forcers boiling out through the doorway fell to the rubble-strewn ground. Bain felt the explosion through the ground, with the peace forcer on top of him, muffling the sound.

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  “What are Gen'gineers?” Bain asked.

  Every person in the peace forcer infirmary stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at him.

  “Gen'gineers?” Rhiann echoed. She rubbed at her eyes and sank back down into the pillow of the inclined examination table. “I heard ... something like that."

  “Don't try to think,” Herin soothed, and patted her younger sister's hand. “You've been drugged and that'll make your head hurt and your thoughts pretty dizzy for a while yet."

  “Where did you hear that word?” Peace Forcer Captain Klapman stepped into the room. He was the one who had pulled Rhiann and Bain out of the house just seconds before the suicide bomb went off.

  “I heard them say it. They were talking about taking samples from Rhiann and arguing if they should leave her dead or alive, and if they should harvest her ovaries. Sorry,” he said, when Rhiann and Herin both winced. “They seemed to be worried that whatever they did would let people know Gen'gineers were on Gemar. They said there were already rumors, but they didn't want the rumors confirmed."

  “Yes, there are rumors.” Captain Klapman turned to his two aides who had followed him into the room. “You heard that?” Both women nodded. “Ringner, go to the governor and inform her personally. Folli, you go to the Council office and demand a message go out with the fastest Spacer courier available."

  “Bad?” Trinia asked from her chair in the corner. She had been allowed to stay with Bain and Rhiann.

  “Gen'gineers, quite simply, are trying to breed a better Human race. Part of their methods include destroying what they consider ‘inferior stock’ and taking genetic samples and material, including ovaries, from racial lines that have traits they consider useful."

  “And Leapers, being an unknown new variant with fascinating talents no one will explain fully, are just what they've been looking for?” Herin asked. She left her sister's side and walked up to the peace forcer captain. She was
just tall enough to look the man in the eye as she spoke.

  “Unfortunately, yes."

  “So they took my sister since she was the most available Leaper in the city, is that it?"

  “My apologies, Captain Herin.” Captain Klapman shifted back a step. “If we had thought there was any truth to the rumor, we would have warned you. We would have given you and your sister—your whole crew—bodyguards."

  “What about Spacers?” she shot back. “They have talents, too."

  “Ah, Captain Herin, maybe you should—"

  “No, Captain. I know what you're going to say. You're going to ask me to wait until we've all recovered from this shock before I make any decisions. This isn't something to recover from. Don't you people know the history of this universe? Don't you know what contributed to the Downfall of First Civ?"

  “People were playing with genetics,” Bain said, breaking the fragile, sharp-edged silence in the infirmary.

  “Exactly.” Herin gave him a nod. “These Gen'gineers are trying to repeat the mistakes of our ancestors. Everyone is in danger from them. Both the people they want to use as breeding stock and the people they consider damaged material, unfit and unworthy to reproduce. What kind of universe have we come back to, Rhi?"

  “Usually we're able to keep track of their whereabouts,” Captain Klapman began.

  “Usually. When they leave telltale tracks. Doctor, is my sister fit to move?” She turned to the medic who had been running a scanner over Rhiann.

  “She's fine,” the man said. He winked at Rhiann and smoothed a few strands of hair back from her forehead. “All she needs is to sleep off the rest of the drug they used on her. If she gets a headache, try to use a natural remedy, no chemicals in the cytamin category. It has a bad reaction to whatever remnants of the drug are still in her system."

  “Thank you.” Herin's voice softened a little. “Our father is also a doctor. He can take care of that precaution. Captain Klapman, we're leaving."

  “Captain Herin, we'll provide you with bodyguards for the rest of your stay,” the man began.