Voices of Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 5)

by David Feintuch

  “Wait, Arlene.”

  We waited endless, agonizing minutes.

  At last he looked up, his eyes bleak. “I won’t destroy a people. Not even for Philip.”

  “I will.” Arlene. She grabbed the caller.

  “Arlene, we came here to look for him. Give me time.”

  “How long? A day? Two? What hope for P.T. then?” She knelt by his side. “We didn’t know Philip was in trannietown. He’s twelve, Nick. He has no time. We’re calling Kahn.”

  Seafort’s eyes met his wife’s. “I can’t stop you?”

  “No. Rob, make the call. I’ll talk to Kahn myself.”

  The Captain sighed. “So be it.” He stripped off his tie. Then his jacket. I thought he was changing to more comfortable clothes until he went to a planter, wrenched out the shrub, plunged his hands into the pot. He rubbed dank earth on his face and shirt.

  “What in God’s name—”

  “I don’t want to look Uppie when I go out. I’ll stay the night. Tell your Unie troops I’ll be with the transpops.”

  “Nicky!”

  “I’ll try to find Philip.” He looked to Adam. “Jared too, as I promised.”

  She said, “Adam, talk sense into him. Once it’s dark they’ll knife him as sure as—”

  Adam cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m going with him.” He blushed at her mute reproach. “Arlene, a search will be hard enough without adding riot and war. The sooner we’re started—we’ll bring our pocket callers, of course. If we find the boys ...”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Arlene’s face twisted.

  Seafort regarded his wife gravely. “Possibly. If you want to help—”

  “Oh, Nick.” She flew across the room, buried herself in his arms.

  “—drop this talk of Unies. Give us a few hours, then rent a heli, join us below. We’ll stay in touch. Don’t try to ring us; I don’t want the caller beeping at the wrong moment.”

  “I can’t risk losing you too. You win. We’ll go together.”

  “No, an Uppie woman will be too distracting for them. Anyway, I can’t sleep in a soft bed tonight while he’s ... Lord God knows where.” He turned to Tenere. “You’re still licensed?”

  “Yes, sir. And I brought my pistol.” Adam sounded grim.

  A laser pistol would offer protection against the menace of the night. Few civilians had license to carry one, and fewer risked the mandatory death penalty for illicit possession.

  “I’ll be ready in a moment, sir. Rob, outside.” Adam’s tone brooked no argument. Reluctantly, I followed him into the corridor. The door shut on the Captain and Arlene in heated conversation.

  Adam backed me against the wall, eyed me with disdain. “I never imagined how low a politician could stoop.”

  I blushed. “I don’t know what you—”

  “I thought I knew you, Robbie.”

  I took refuge in silence. His eyes bored deeper.

  What he said about my maneuver was ... searing. I felt the most devious, unscrupulous cadet in Academy. Twice, I tried to interrupt, and each time he silenced me with a word.

  When he was done I felt more humbled than ever I had as an adult. Perhaps as a boy, too. I tried to kindle my anger, but the suspicion he was right doused my ire before it could ignite. Had it been anyone but Adam, the words wouldn’t have mattered.

  But I loved him still.

  Humiliated, chastened, I wanted only to escape to my room. Instead, gritting my teeth, I offered to go along, to make amends however I could.

  Adam refused.

  I insisted on helping find a heli; perhaps my connections would save time. A call to the manager brought an immediate offer of one of the skytel’s craft. My task completed, I waited in awkward silence with Adam outside the Seaforts’ suite.

  After a time Nick Seafort emerged, rubbing his eyes. Under his arm was a valise. “She demands we take her with us, but I insisted she wait until tomorrow. At night, the streets are ...” He sighed. “And we need someone to stand by, in case ...” He left the rest unfinished.

  Adam said, “Sir, is it necessary to spend the night outside?”

  Seafort’s voice dropped. “The truth is, I can’t be sure Arlene won’t ask Kahn for troops unless I’m on the street. She thinks it’s the best chance to save Philip, and she’s one determined joeygirl.” He shrugged. “We’d better go. Rob, what are your plans?”

  “I’ll wait with the heli for your call. In the morning, I’ll bring Arlene to meet you.”

  “We’ve imposed far more than we could ask. Haven’t you work to do?”

  I tried not to look at Adam. “Van will clear my schedule. In a few days I’ll join U.N.S. Galactic for the blue-ribbon Jovian cruise, but until then, my time is yours.”

  For answer, the Captain pressed my arm. “We’d best go.” As we headed to the elevator he shot a glance back to their suite. “I’m not sure she’ll come home when this is over.” His face held something beyond sadness.

  From the helipad we flew to a rooftop Blue and White. The convenience store, named for its summoning nightly beacon, was open twenty-four hours. Nick opened his bag on the checkout counter and strode the aisles, tossing in foodstuffs, pocket lights, medkits, and baubles as fast as the autoclerk could scan them. Even a small Valdez perma. He tossed a handful of Unibucks at the receiving arm. “Let’s go.”

  I asked, “Where shall I set down, sir?”

  “A block or two south of the Sheraton.”

  “Do you know P.T. went south?”

  “No, but we want to go that way.” He consulted a wafer-thin electrimap, punched in a query. “Our skytel’s on Forty-seventh. Thirteen blocks ...”

  “To where, sir?”

  “An old friend I snubbed.”

  “What for?”

  No answer.

  Before we set down, Adam and I went over our arrangements. I was hesitant at first, smarting from his reprimand, but I needn’t have fretted. As at Academy, once he’d delivered a rebuke, the issue was closed, his manner infused with his usual warmth. My hands on the collective, I swallowed a lump. How had I lost the eager boy I’d been?

  I focused on the street below, checked the infrared sensors. “Captain, they’re all around us. In doorways, on the roofs ...”

  “I know. Lift off the moment we’re out the hatch.”

  I had no intention of becoming prey to whatever creatures lurked. “Aye aye, sir.” We dropped.

  Seafort grinned without mirth. “So it’s back to that, Middy?”

  “For now.” As we settled to the broken asphalt I groped for words. “Sir, about the Unies, I’m sorry if—”

  “No time. Adam, the pistol is a last resort. Stay with me.” Shouldering his valise he slid back the door, jumped. Adam followed. They sprinted south into the crumbling city.

  Chapter 25

  PEDRO

  AGAIN SUB JOEY BOYS perched me in chair, carried me along dimly lit tunnels to far stair. Then, up to day. I blinked in unexpect light. Hang on, Pedro Telamon. Home soon.

  At shop, I unlocked steel door, tottered in, fussed while they loaded carts fulla Valdez permas for return to Sub. After, I lay on cot in back of store, surprise I was alive. I’d used all the pills I’d brung, and medkits were stored upstair, but no way could I have nosy trannies carry me to third floor, where I kept my stock. Crawl, first. An’ I woulda had to, ’xcept at last min I remembered medkit I brought down for Pook’s cut. Was still near bed. I rummaged through box, tore open sealed pills.

  Angina, I had. I knew from books, and the way it hurt. Pills worked before. If I were Uppie, I’d go for heart transplant or plastic boomer implant, solve problem. But for trannie, alla coin I had, or could raise resta my life, wouldn’t be enough.

  I sighed. You gone old, Pedro, an’ wearin’ out. Gonna die soon, alone in shop. Then tribes come, knock for trayfo, an’ wonder why ya don’ open door, ’til ’ventual they break in and scavenge all what was yours.

  I lay musing, sippin’ tea, while ache
faded. Time passed. I woke to rapping at door.

  Felt well enough to get up, but not in mood for trayfo. Still, might be Pookboy rappin’. I padded to door. “Chang close. Comeback morra.”

  “Mr. Chang?” Strange voice. Like Uppie, but too polite.

  “Why ya botha ol’ man, hah? Back to tower!”

  “Let us in, please.”

  My knees suddenly weak. Couldn’t be him; not here. I pawed at bolt. “Lemme hear ya ’gain.” I hadda be sure.

  “A crowd’s gathering. You’d better hurry.”

  “Lor’ God.” I clawed at lock with fingers useless from haste. At last, got it open. “You came!”

  Fisherman stood framed against last of sunset. Pistol dangled from one hand; other supported a dazed-eyed joey with blood-caked face. “Can we get him inside?” He crossed to my favorite chair, eased down his frien’ with care.

  Frien’ stirred. “I’m all right.”

  “You lost blood, Adam.” To me, “He needs a drink, and a place to sit. Someone hit him with a rock. I was afraid if he went down ...”

  “Water. Tea.” In own shop, I felt helpless. I prodded mind goin’, found medkit, handed to him.

  Fisherman took it from my hand. His eyes met mine.

  Moment without words.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “For not coming.”

  “That why you’re here?”

  He didn’t flinch. “No.” My heart plunged to toes.

  I poured water, dampened cloth from medkit.

  He busied himself with gash in friend’s scalp. Joey stirred, reached in pocket for holo. Fisherman snapped, “Keep still.”

  Friend’s voice was rusty. “Have you seen this boy?”

  I hissed, like stiff-back cat. “Fisherman, I know. Twenny year back he knock on Chang’s door with Eddie Maceboy. You, joey, be jus’ some bigmouth Uppie. Think ya come ta Chang’s shop, ask questions widout innifo, hah?”

  Uppie looked perplexed to Fisherman, who shrugged as if to suggest, cool jets.

  I grumbled, put pot on warmer, went in back room for best tea I hoard. When I came out, I still mutterin’. “Frazzin’ Uppies think they own the worl’.”

  “I’m sorry.” Uppie pointed to joeykit in holo. “I’m his father. He’s missing.”

  “Fah.” I set down cups. Too bad ’bout joeykit, but principle be involve. What kinda traytaman Chang be, without demand innifo?

  Uppie Adam went to pocket, came out with wallet. Handed it to me.

  I looked in. Unibucks, plenny. “So?”

  “Take what you want.” Sounded tired.

  “All?”

  He shrugged. “The Commandant—Mr. Seafort said to trust you.”

  Clever, but I learned that trick as a kit. “Try to swind Pedro Telamon Chang, hah?” I helped myself to mosta wad. Teach him to play games wid Neut. I tossed wallet in his lap, took holopic.

  “Would you help find him?”

  I debated self, sat with sigh. “Where he went?”

  “On the street.”

  “Why did joeykit run off?”

  Adam Uppie’s tone bleak. “He needed a father, and didn’t have one.”

  I shrugged. “On street overnight, he dead.”

  “Possibly.” A grimace. “But I have to know.”

  Won’ ever know, if some tribes caught him. Cryps eatim. Subs, maybe skin, even nowdays.

  I said, cautious, “C’n ask. May need innifo, fo’ tribes.”

  His eyes closed, tired. “Whatever you want.”

  Fah. Too easy. I turned to Fisherman, careful to make my talk Uppie. “Why’d you come too?”

  His face grim. “To find my son Philip.”

  I squinted, to remember. “Joeykit, ’bout this tall?” I showed. “Brown hair, thin?”

  He straighten. In his eyes, fierce joy. “You saw him?”

  I nodded. “Week ago.”

  Light faded from face. “Couldn’t be. He wasn’t here then.”

  “Not here. Compound.”

  He searched my face. “You? My home?”

  I shrugged. “Hadda try, but you gone.” He looked so forlorn, I had to help him past moment. “Why Philip here?”

  Fisherman’s shoulders drooped. “He followed Jared to bring him home.”

  Pity. Joeykit his size had no chance at all. I poured hot water.

  Fisherman would pay whatever innifo I ask. Any thin’. So I hadda be careful, not to even suggest. Fisherman’s help with water pipes was worth more ’n I could name. But according to Eddie Maceboy, his help wasn’t thing I could trayfo.

  I asked, “Got holos of your kit?”

  Fisherman reached into his pack. “The hotel ran copies.”

  Small lithe body, hopeful face.

  “Can you show his picture to the—your friends?”

  I shook my head. “Righ’ now, everything be unsettle.” And would be even more unsettle tomorra, if Halber Boss Sub had his way. I hadda start now. I took coupla deep breaths, testin’ chest. Seemed okay. I carefully opened door, peered out. Still day. Few inquisitive Mids hung aroun’ across street. No matta. I put on long coat, slipped Philip’s holo in pocket, took a few cansa fo’ innifo.

  “I’d like to go with you, Mr. Chang.” Fisherman’s voice was quiet.

  Shook my head. “Better without ya.” But my chest swelled with foolish pride. “Mista Chang,” from him? I lived long time, neva heard from any otha Uppie. He jus’ strokin, of course. “Ya come with me, too many questions. Trannies be interest’ in you, steada joeykit.”

  He considered it. Treated me serious, like colleague. Maybe wasn’t strokin’. “Are you sure?”

  “How much help did they give, ’fore ya came to shop?” His face told me answer. “Wait here, take care of Adam Uppie. Plenny a—” I hated to say it, but had pocket fulla his innifo. “—Plenny a tea in jar. Take what you wan’.”

  “Thank you.”

  Outside, I went direct to waitin’ Mids. “Whassamatta, nevah seen Uppie come shoppin’?” I took out holo Fisherman gave. “Lookin’ for dis joeykit. Plenny innifo if ya know where ta fin’. Or lotsa trayfo for give him me. But no swind.” I pass around holo. “An’ only if he safe.”

  I could see from faces, not much chance anyone seen him. But they look, some debatin’ if could swind Pedro Telamon Chang, despite what I say. I frowned, to discourage.

  Afta the growed Mids looked, joeykits wanted ta see too. Could brush ’em away, but why bother? Easier to let ’em.

  One young joey’s face was puff, like in rumb. He stood on toes to see over ’nother’s shoulder. Eyes went wide; maybe he never seen holo before. He turned away like din’t wan’ me to know his interest.

  “No one? Okay, okay, how ’bout this joey?” I took out other holo.

  “Innifo?” Voice in back.

  Hadda be careful. Too much, an’ they wouldn’ believe. “Twenny cansa. More if ya bring him.” Was enough to get their attention. All of them crowded round to look again at holo, even joeykits. ’Xcept kit with puffy face. He was gone.

  I walked to second corner, edge of Broad turf. Showed holos to Broads, same message. Hadda pay innifo to get to Mid Four Two. Same again with Easters. I spread word far as I could without clutchin’ heart and pawin’ for meds. Then I went home.

  Was dark when I got there. Longer walk than I realized.

  Door barely closed before Fisherman was at my side. “Well?”

  I shrugged off coat; he took from my shoulders as if to hang. I snatched it back. “Think Chang too old ta take care a self, hah?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I grimaced, ashamed of self. Afta all, it was Fisherman hisself in Chang’s shop, and I talkin’ to him like Pookboy. Gruff, I said, “Uppie frien’ seein’ straight now?”

  Adam stirred. “I’m fine.”

  I sat, tapped teapot to see if was warm. “Trannies watchin’ for ’em now. But nobody seen—saw joey kits.” I set pot back on heater, fussed with cup.

  Fisherman asked, “Is that possible?”
/>
  “Lotsa streets, lotsa trannies. All we c’n do is spread word.” I gestured to door. “Dark now. You go out, won’t see mornin’. Gotta stay.”

  Adam said, “We’re armed.” He touched his pistol.

  I snorted. “Ya weren’ armed when they bashed ya with rock?”

  “I’ll be ready this time.” His eyes were cold.

  “Ready to diss trannies? Easy thing, for Uppie!”

  Fisherman patted his friend’s knee, to quiet. “Mr. Chang, Philip’s been on the street two days, and Jared longer. We must go. There’s no time left.” He fished in a pocket. “Before we leave, I need to call Arlene. Excuse me a moment.” He tapped a code into his caller, waited.

  I felt eyes boring, looked down to meet Adam Uppie’s. “Yes?”

  He asked, “You’re a—a transpop yourself?”

  “What else?” It came out a challenge.

  He looked about. “You’ve lived here ... long?”

  Fisherman said into caller, “Of course I’m all right. We’re at Pedro Chang’s. Remember I told you ...” He turned to corner, stood facing wall as if private.

  Chang’s story too complicate to tell Uppie. Besides, I wanted to hear Fisherman. “Yah. Long.”

  Adam touched sore spot on head, winced. “How do you survive?”

  I shrugged. “Trayfo.”

  “... we’re leaving now. If he’s out there, I can’t—”

  “Where do you get your goods?”

  What was I, some kinda cyclopedia? If Uppie curious, why don’ he ask his terminal? “Here ’n there.”

  Too late, though. Fisherman lowered voice, and I couldn’ hear rest. I glowered at Adam Uppie. “Don’ go burnin’ my trannies wid laser. Unnerstan’, in nighttime, no rules on streets. Any Uppie stupe enough to go out, okay to diss. Same everywhere.”

  Fisherman’s friend pointed to door. “My boy Jared is out there. Would you let some trannie’s life stand between you and your son?”

  Couldn’t know for sure. Never had son, ’xcept maybe Eddie. Wife, once, but she died too young.

  “Warn ’em first,” I said gruff, fussin’ with tea. “Show ’em laser, they prolly scatter.”

  Adam’s voice surprisingly gentle. “I won’t kill for pleasure, Mr. Chang. But I’ll protect the Commandant with my life. Certainly with theirs.”