If only I’d known when he was a baby that some of my blood could have helped him. Then again, I didn’t actually know if type A1 blood could fight intense asthma the way it fought diseases and infections.
I did know now that it could have saved my mother. But for what? For more unhappy years under the Overseer’s watchful gaze, in his oppressive home, under his terrifying bootheel? His fists hadn’t flown often, but when they had, they’d hit hard. To be honest, I’d been more scared of being dragged around, poked with needles, and shoved into stark rooms with the lock thrown behind me and no clue when I’d be let out again. Mom and I had both gotten away from him. Death had been our escape, although mine hadn’t been a real one. Maybe my escape wasn’t real, either.
Nathaniel Bridgebane had stripped me of my identity, abandoned me halfway across the galaxy from the only home I’d ever known, and scared the crap out of me in the process. He’d saved my life eighteen years ago. I’d hated him for his choices, for not being my Uncle Nate anymore, for choosing the Overseer’s dark cave of tyranny and intolerance over staying the fun guy who’d let me ride on his shoulders and whose biggest smiles were always for me and my mother.
But the man who’d once been a rebel hadn’t bought into autocratic evil when he’d followed his stepsister to Sector 12, had he? He’d been trying to control it.
There wasn’t a message from Starway 8 waiting for me, so I wrote to Mareeka with a quick update and asked for news from the orphanage. After sending off my note, I curled up with Bonk and flipped through the pages of the book Susan had given me on the Mornavail from her bookshop on Albion 5, looking for clues as to who might have A1 blood like I did, and where in the galaxy they might be hiding.
Just as with the first time I’d read the fairly recent but archaically presented book, I didn’t get much out of it. It could have been myth, history, or just some nutcase’s handwritten ramblings. “They” were in the Fold. “They” were a light in the darkness. “They” were “Incorruptible”—which I now understood wasn’t referring to morals or integrity but rather to the fact that their health couldn’t be corrupted by the usual illnesses that plagued others. All in all, I still had more questions than answers after revisiting the flowery, long-winded text, which unfortunately hadn’t magically become more fun to read since the last time I’d slogged through it.
Before we’d gone to Korabon, I’d asked Fiona why she thought a large increase in white blood cells would benefit my health rather than causing problems. Any internal imbalance was bad news, as far as I knew, but she’d insisted that I wasn’t out of balance. I was simply built that way from the start.
“If someone were to experience a sudden increase in abnormal white blood cells,” she’d explained, “that would cause problems. Potentially severe ones, even fatal. Your cells are healthy and normal. There’s no bad crowding out the good. There’s just more good, and it’s always been that way. That’s your internal design. That’s the engine that keeps you running.”
Whoever the Mornavail were—and I was starting to believe they were really out there—they were like me, with the same slightly different composition from everyone else. But where were they? Not in the Fold. I would know, wouldn’t I?
My tablet dinged softly. I closed the book and shoved it under my bed, its frustrating obliqueness making me give it a hard push out of sight. I grabbed the tablet and checked my incoming messages, seeing Surral’s name and a Starway 8 address.
Dearest Tess,
Mareeka and I are so relieved to hear from you and know that you’re all right. With your recent losses, I know that “all right” isn’t really what you are, but I’m glad to hear that you and your remaining crew are safe. Please know that we took care of Miko for you. She’s a beautiful bright color in the Rafini Nebula now and will always help watch over the children for us.
Tears burst to my eyes, hot and sudden. My breath shuddered. I sniffed the tears down, blinking rapidly. My grip tightened on the tablet.
Mareeka needs to deal with some new deliveries, which is why I’m writing you back in her place. I’m finally able to breathe after clearing the last of the children from sick bay only yesterday. We suffered no more losses after you brought us your new cure-all. We’re so grateful. We’re so sorry, though, for what it cost you. I know that Miko and Shiori were your family as much as we are.
My eyes watered. I sniffed again, the top of my nose burning. Surral was staying vague and discreet in written correspondence, but I’d seen before leaving Starway 8 that she’d figured out that my blood was in those cure-alls. She’d understood that I was somehow connected to the Mornavail, whom she’d heard of but believed were legendary.
Supplies are coming in with a vengeance now that cargo ships aren’t afraid of the virus anymore. Mareeka is being run off her feet, but the older children are helping out, as they do, and as they should. This leaves the middle children to help more with the little ones, which is always interesting. It keeps them out of the usual trouble they are wont to stumble into, but creates new…shall I say…challenges?
I smiled through a lingering blur of tears, imagining the fierce bickering, the dressing-up, the games, and the messes that would probably make even my hair curl. Coltin was a middle child. I hoped he was well enough already to be leading pirate raids and inventing magic spells.
I got a new supply of scrubs in for my nurses. They’re electric orange and lemon yellow and light up our hallways fabulously. You’d love them.
My smile widened. Surral and her scrubs. I thought she got them from people she still knew in her native New India Conglomerate, although she’d never told me specifically. Electric orange wouldn’t be my best color, but bright, bold tones went perfectly with Surral’s bronze-hued skin, black hair, and deep-brown eyes. I’d never seen a color that didn’t work on her. Mareeka wasn’t so lucky. With her white-blonde hair, milk-toned complexion, and ice-blue eyes, plain dark clothing looked best on her. The differences between the two women always interested the children. Babies were especially fascinated, their early vision delighting in contrasts.
Mareeka and Surral had both worn wedding rings for as long as I’d known them, although they’d never technically married. The Overseer had banned gay marriage about thirty years ago, around the time he’d coerced my mother into tying herself to him in exchange for stopping a genocide.
My face scrunched up, the unholy stench of the Overseer reaching me even here. I continued reading.
And now for the news you’ve been waiting for. Coltin is fine. He’s been quite heroic, helping out in the infirmary. He recovered much faster than the others, perhaps due to that double dose you gave him. (Yes! I saw that!)
I bit my lip. Mareeka had insisted we vaccinate ourselves against the highly contagious virus. I hadn’t wanted to waste a shot on myself, so I secretly gave it to Coltin.