Doctor Who_ Beyond the Sun - Matthew Jones [52]
Emile stared at Scott in silence, not really sure what to say. He wanted to defend Bernice, say that Scott was wrong. But he didn’t really understand what Scott was actually criticizing Bernice for. In the end he said, ‘I’m not like the Sunless.’
Emile’s quiet words had a profound effect on Scott. He stopped pacing and sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his fine emerald hair. He looked away, and chewed an already heavily bitten fingernail. ‘I know you’re not, Emile,’ he said after a moment. ‘I know you’re not like them.’ Scott reached over and squeezed Emile’s thigh through the bedclothes. ‘I’m just angry, that’s all. When I first met Bernice it was so clear to me that I wanted to assist you. I wanted to be the good Ursulan helping the profiteers who had fallen out of the sky. I think I wanted to prove to you that even with the threat of the Sunless hanging over us, Ursu is special.
That what we have here is better than what you have with your wealth and technology.’ He sighed. ‘Margaret’s right, I am an egoizing idiot.’
Emile stared down at Scott’s hand, at the long square-tipped fingers which gripped his leg. His mind was completely frozen. He couldn’t take in what Scott was saying; he couldn’t think at all.
He could just stare at that hand and feel the warmth of Scott’s palm through the thin white sheet.
Scott was still talking and Emile had to wrench his attention away from the hand in order to listen.
The scale-covered boy was staring at Emile intensely, his strange metal eyes full of curiosity.
‘But if you’re not like the Sunless, what are you like, Emile? You’re so quiet. Sometimes it’s like you’re not even here. What do you believe in? What matters to you?’
‘Well, I . . .’ Emile wasn’t sure. What did he believe in? He didn’t know really. He’d never thought about it.
He felt uncomfortable, as if he were being tested by Scott, scrutinized by him. He knew that he didn’t want to fail the test somehow or seem stupid, but he didn’t really have an answer. Politics had always seemed very boring and remote from his life. He’d always switch the news off, unless it was about a serial killer or the latest audacious crime by the Cat’s Paw or something exciting like that. There were so many political factions and interests vying for control in his sector that he knew he would never be able to keep up with it all even if he tried. It seemed that every day a war broke out on some backwater planet that he’d never heard of. He used to spend his days watching holos of pop concerts he could only dream of attending. Pop concerts and old movies.
He looked up to see that Scott was still staring at him with his shiny mercury eyes. ‘I’m not really sure I can say what I believe in just like that. I mean, what do you believe in?’
Scott pulled a thin chain from around his neck and handed it to Emile. A small, dull, metal ring hung from it. The ring was warm from being around the young man’s neck. Etched into the band were words. Emile peered at them closely.
Any rule is tyranny.
My one duty is to accept no rule.
‘That’s it? That’s what you believe in? No rules?’ It didn’t make any sense to Emile.
Scott nodded. ‘That’s it. Everyone has their own code. Almost everyone that is. Some people choose not to. The idea is that it is based on your learning from being in your Eight. But our codes change as our lives change.’
‘Eight?’
‘My family. Leon and Michael. Eight brothers and sisters. Representing the different species who came to Ursu to get away from the profiteers.’
‘What? Don’t you have mothers or fathers?’
‘You can’t be free if you’re someone’s son or someone’s father. Or if you’re carrying a baby inside of you. All Ursulan children are born from the Blooms. We are all born as half-grown children. We bring ourselves up together. For a reason that no one understands – not even Kitzinger, and no one knew more about the Blooms than her – there were ten children born in