7
THE WORD WAS out about the damage the Magdalene had done to the infirmary’s medicator. A man who had been posted at the infirmary laughed about the incident to a group of friends at the Rec Fac, in Jin-Li’s hearing.
Paolo Adetti was not a popular man. The longshoremen and technicians, the clerks and secretaries of Port Force, had heard the rumors from Virimund. A secretary in purchasing had talked to her brother on Virimund via r-wave, and the word spread. The secretary’s brother told her that two people had died on the ocean planet after an altercation on one of the hundreds of small islands. Everyone at the Multiplex, it seemed, knew now that one of the dead had been a native child.
Gossip boiled through the ranks. Matty Phipps had been reassigned to the Multiplex, a reward for serving a long voyage. Jin-Li sought her out in the Rec Fac. Phipps was a broad-shouldered woman with a strong jaw and wispy red hair. She was watching a program on the big screen in the lounge, her boots off, her long legs propped on a table.
Jin-Li waited till the program ended to settle into a chair near her. “Are you Phipps?”
The woman looked up. “That’s me.”
Jin-Li put out a hand to shake. “Jin-Li Chung.”
“Jin—what did you say your name is?”
Jin-Li smiled. “Everyone calls me Johnnie.”
“I get that! Johnnie it is, then.” Phipps grinned, her freckled cheeks creasing, and put out her hand. “Matty.”
“Just thought I’d say welcome,” Jin-Li said. “I teach some classes here in the Rec Fac, so if you have any questions . . .”
“Thanks. I might take a class. For now, I’m still resting up.”
“Right. You were on the Virimund transport, weren’t you? Interesting.”
Matty Phipps sighed and stretched long arms over her head. “More like boring. Long, long trip, that. Everybody in twilight sleep.”
“I guess that’s what it’s like for crew. I went to Irustan, a few years ago,” Jin-Li said.
“Irustan,” Phipps said, shaking her head. “That’s a two-year trip.”
“But I was in twilight sleep the whole time,” Jin-Li said. “Woke up enough to eat meals, do the circulation exercises. That was it.”
“Best that way, believe me. Nothing to look at, not a lot to do.”
Phipps waved a broad, freckled hand. “I did two voyages, back to back. Nuova Italia and then Virimund. Thought I’d go nuts, frankly. Great if you’re antisocial. I’ve had enough.”
“What kind of work did you do onboard?”
“Maintenance and supply. There was plenty of work, just got lonely. Only three crew and the officers to talk to.” She laughed. “And not a one of ’em played a decent game of Go. You play Go, Johnnie?”
“No, sorry. I could learn, I guess.” Jin-Li leaned back in the chair.
“Ever see the girl? The one ESC brought from Virimund?”
Phipps’s grin faded. “Yeah.” Her voice grew hard. “That damned doctor kept me running with his lab supply requests, I can tell you. And the poor kid! Fourteen months in space, and he kept her awake the whole damned time.”
Jin-Li straightened. “Awake?”
“You got it. Shut up in quarantine the whole voyage, wide awake, with only Doctor fucking Adetti for company. ” She winked at Jin-Li. “Well, and me, once in a while. Through the glass, anyway. I couldn’t stand the thought of this little girl all alone. She didn’t speak much English, but I slipped her a reader and a few disks to pass the time. She figured ’em out right quick, too!” Phipps shook her head, her eyes clouding. “Hope she’s doing all right. I haven’t heard a word about her since we got here.”
Jin-Li stood up. “She has somebody with her now. It’s a Magdalene priest.”
“Well, I hope she gets her out of there,” Phipps said. “Rotten business, keeping her locked up in quarantine all those months. She sure didn’t look sick to me.”
*
“DR. EDWARDS, THE people at Earth Multiplex assure me the child is being well cared for.”
Simon leaned back in his chair and frowned at ExtraSolar’s liaison to World Health. He had been asking hard questions, and getting very few answers. He had finally demanded a face-to-face, and Hilda Kronin had come to his office.
“Why is she being kept under wraps?”
“I’m told Dr. Adetti is examining her.” Kronin shifted nervously in her seat.
“Look,” Simon said. He leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. “ESC is going to have to explain why they brought this girl away from her own world. Otherwise, I’m going to recommend official censure, and that’s a very public event.”
She put up an anxious hand. “No, no. Dr. Edwards, that isn’t necessary. Cole Markham called me this morning from Seattle. He assures me ExtraSolar has satisfied the requirements of the charters. They acquired an extraordinary empowerment provision from the regents, and they brought in a medical anthropologist to sort out the child’s situation.”
“What does that mean, sort out the situation?”
Kronin shook her head. “I’m so sorry. Dr. Edwards. I’m not a scientist, so I can’t explain it well. But, you know—” She waved the same hand in an apologetic gesture.
Simon let his eyes stray to the view of Geneva beyond the window. Lowering gray clouds promised more snow by evening. The bitter weather suited his mood.
The liaison said hesitantly, “I suppose they mean, you know, understand the child’s background. What happened on Virimund. And why.”
Simon watched the light change from pale gray to a deeper ash as the layers of cloud shifted over the city. It was almost evening, when he would go home to Anna, and they would spend the long empty hours carefully not talking of anything that mattered. “Why don’t you try to make me understand what happened, Hilda,” he said. He felt his temper rising. It was good, somehow, to feel an emotion that was not sadness. He steepled his fingers, and focused his gaze on them. “Tell me about Virimund.”
“Well, it was complicated . . .”
“Of course.”
“The hydros took a flyer out over the islands and saw movement, what looked like people on a beach. They decided to check it out. Only one island. No one knew, you understand . . .”
“Virimund was supposed to be uninhabited.”
“Right, right. And even after weeks, no one had any idea. There were no lights, no radio communication, nothing. It was a complete surprise to our people.”
“But they saw someone . . .” Simon prompted.
“They were just curious,” she said defensively. “And after the—the incident—our people have stayed strictly away.”
“Okay,” Simon said. He flexed his fingers. “Now tell me why the physician assigned to the hydrogen installation—” He glanced at the reader inset into his desk. “Adetti,” he said. “Paolo Adetti. What made him decide to bring this little girl back with him? And why was it allowed?”
The woman breathed a wilting sigh. “I can only tell you what they’ve told me. I’m supposed to forestall censure, and a World Health investigation. I’m doing my best, believe me.”
“I know you’re trying, Hilda.”
“They told me the children attacked the hydros when they landed. Two children and one of the workers were injured. One child and one man died, but this girl survived. Dr. Adetti discovered, I guess, that she had some communicable illness, so he put her in quarantine.”
“But why bring her to Earth?”
She spread her hands. “I’m afraid they didn’t think I needed that information. I’m sorry.”
“And what’s her status now?”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I just don’t know.”
“Well, it can’t go on much longer. Not without an accounting.”
She nodded. “I know. But that’s why the anthropologist is there. She’s a Magdalene priest,” she offered, with a hopeful raising of the eyebrows.
Simon pushed away from his desk and went to stand at the window, looking out over the peaked roofs of the city to the lake. The old fountain had shut down, but he knew where it was. Anna was working near the lakeshore, teaching in a school for refugees. He felt a spasm of sorrow for her. Her steadiness, her persistence, the same qualities that now drove a wedge between them, were taken as great virtues by her colleagues in the school.
He forced himself to turn his eyes back to Hilda Kronin. “Make it clear to your people,” he said, “that we understand perfectly why they called in a Magdelene.” He avoided saying Isabel’s name. Surely even this minor diplomat, this nervous woman, would hear something in his voice, some hint of his feelings. He cleared his throat. “This was a public relations move, Hilda, a transparent ploy to garner public approval. Unless some solid information comes out of it, it won’t be enough.”
She stood, eager to leave. “Right, Dr. Edwards. I understand.”
“I’d like to make it easy for you,” he said. “But we have to be clear on this.”
“Thanks. I’ll try to explain it to them.”
“It’s best to be straight out with it. Diplomacy is all well and good, but we have a child to consider, and apparently an islandful of them out on Virimund.”
“I know it. Thank you.” She made a hasty exit, and Simon turned back to the austere winter scenery.
His secretary looked in the open door. “Dr. Edwards? Do you want anything?”
“No. Not now,” he said. What he wanted, he could not ask for.
*
JAY APPLETON TOLD Jin-Li that the priest had asked for coffee.
“We could just get it from the cafeteria,” he said, waving at the big institutional pots at the end of the line of hot tables.
“But she’s from Italy, Jay. Bet she likes her coffee strong and fresh. Think it would be all right if I could find her a small machine and some good coffee?”
Appleton grinned. “Figured you’d say that. But you don’t fool me, Johnnie. You just wanta see what’s happening.”
Jin-Li laughed, but showed up on Jay’s next shift at the infirmary, carrying a small espresso maker, wheedled from a friend in the cafeteria, and a pound of freshly ground coffee.
Jin-Li spoke into the comm mike. “Mother Burke? It’s Jin-Li Chung here. May I clear the window?”
The priest’s light voice answered almost immediately. “Of course, Jin-Li.”
The silver deliquesced to show Isabel Burke standing beside the window, dressed as before in black. Her white collar glistened in the harsh light. She nodded to Jin-Li. “Hello.”
The girl from Virimund came out of the side room, peering shyly past her curtain of kinky hair. She wore an oversize black sweater and loose fleece trousers.
Jin-Li held up the espresso maker and the foil bag of coffee. “I heard you like coffee.”
Isabel Burke laughed, a warm sound even through the little comm system. “I love it! It’s my weakness. But how did you know?”
Jin-Li shrugged. “Oh—we talk, you know. In the cafeteria. In the Rec Fac.”
“What a kindness! I’ve really missed my little vice. I hope you didn’t go to any trouble.”
“Not at all. I’ll send these in with your dinner trays.”
“Thank you for being so thoughtful.” She hesitated, and then said. softly, “Jin-Li—I don’t mean to take advantage of you when you’ve already been so helpful—”
“Yes?” Jin-Li encouraged.
The priest glanced to her right, to the closed door of the infirmary. Jin-Li gave a slight nod. Jay was on the other side of the sterile bubble.
“I’m quite cut off here,” the priest murmured. “This is my fourth day, and I haven’t been able to speak to anyone. I could really use a wavephone.”
Jin-Li glanced at the wavephone mounted on the wall.
The priest made a wry face. “It’s not working,” she said. “Disabled, actually.”
Jin-Li eyed the spare furnishings of the infirmary, the guarded bubble. It was a risk. But the infirmary had been turned into a virtual prison. It was worth taking the chance. “See what I can do,” Jin-Li said. “I’ll be back soon. Mother Burke.”
“Thank you,” the priest said again, and she smiled in farewell. She had a wonderful smile, which made her eyes seem to light from within. People probably did favors for Isabel Burke often, just to see her smile. Jin-Li smiled back, touched the control to restore the mirror, and went off in search of a wavephone.