With Pook was a big joey in a ragged jumpsuit streaked with garish colors. He shot me a dubious glance. “This him?”
“Ya.”
“Don’ look like Dosman. Jus’ a joeykit. Ya know puters, Uppie?”
“What?”
Pook said, “Tolya, Halber, he c’n do anythin’ ya wan’. Bring down towah. Anythin’.”
Halber pushed me toward the stairs. When I refused, he beat me.
I found myself on the street, barefoot, my chest aching. My face stung miserably where the big trannie had slapped me. I stepped on a stone and yelped. The trannie’s answer was to plant his palms in the small of my back and shove me onward.
At least I’d managed to convince them I needed water. Pook ran back upstairs to get it, but Halber wouldn’t wait. Three trannies marched me down the center of the street.
I hoped Pook would be back soon.
In a few blocks I was hopping from foot to foot, trying to ease the pain in my soles. If only they’d give me back my boots.
The trannies all wore shoes or sandals. It did no good to explain I was barefoot; all Halber did was push me forward. “Move, Uppie! Gotta be unner ’fore dark.”
We stopped twice at corners, while one of Halber’s men negotiated with other trannies. Before I could rest, we moved on.
I peered backward. Pook was nowhere in sight.
The avenue opened onto a wide square. The jagged remains of a building dominated the center. An open stairway descended into a tunnel. Halber steered me to the steps.
Below, all was dark.
I balked. “Let’s wait for Pook.”
“Down.”
“No!” A wave of fear added emphasis to my words.
A growl. He caught my arm, jammed my wrist up between my shoulder blades.
I squealed.
The trannie bent my fingers, all the while heaving my arm upward.
“STOP!” It hurt beyond bearing.
“Down frazzin’ stair, Uppie!” He trotted me, wailing and protesting, into the cavern.
Halber bellowed, “Chaco!”
“Yo!”
“Ligh’.”
Abruptly, a light switched on. As it swung, shadows danced along the walls.
A dozen trannies in gaudy dress, all with clubs or knives. One joey held a Valdez permalight.
Halber shoved me down a corridor that reeked of sweat and Lord God knew what else. It opened into a smoky chamber strewn with mattresses and broken furniture. In the center, a fire flickered. Above it bubbled a stewpot. Despite myself, I licked my lips.
Halber beckoned a tribesman. “Five Nines be ready?”
“Waitin’ at unnercar.”
“Lexunners?”
“Whole clan onna track, near stair.”
“Allie! Krand!” Halber waited, hands on hips.
A girl darted forward. “Krandboy went piss. I tellim afta.”
Halber jerked a thumb in my direction. “Watch Uppie kit. Take couple otha joeys for safe. If he run, ya be diss. Unnerstan’?”
“Awri, Halb.” As he turned away, she tugged at my arm. C’mon.
I tried to pry her fingers loose. “Let go.”
She dug her nails into the flesh of my upper arm. “C’mon, Uppiekit. Yo! Krand!” Excitedly she beckoned to an approaching teen. “Halber says ta watch Uppie from run.”
Krand’s tone was jeering. “Uppie? He be Mid.”
“I am not!”
“Yeah.” He jabbed at the mark on my chest. Frightened he might open my cuts, I lashed out, straight-armed him into the wall.
“Chaco, help wid Uppie!” In a moment I was surrounded by jabbering trannies. I was taller than any of them, and heavier. But against them all, I hadn’t a chance. A melee would open my scabs, and worse, I couldn’t run on my bruised bare feet.
Krand grimaced, rubbing his elbow. “Frazzin’ Uppie!”
Allie giggled.
At her scorn, the boy bristled. “Barth, Chaco, holdim!” They seized my arms. Krand’s foot swung back, slammed into my crotch.
I convulsed. Curled into a ball, I thrashed on the floor.
“Now look whatcha done!” Allie was frantic. “Halber said ta keep safe. He see, he skin ya! Gettim outa!” Unknown hands dragged me to an alcove.
“OhGodohGod!” My knees were drawn up to my chest, my hands cupped around the dreadful pain in my groin.
Allie knelt. “Shhh. Sorry ’bout Krand. He stupe.” Her fingers flitted across my brow.
“Fucking trannie bitch! Oh, God!” I rolled from side to side.
“Shush, ya wan’ Halber hearya?” She shook me. “Lie onya back, Uppie, bring legs up.”
Despite my agony I managed, “What would you know about it?”
She grinned. “Think I ain’ never kneed a joeykit? Even Krand, one time.” The boy reddened, looked away.
After a while my torment eased to misery, then to a persistent ache. Surreptitiously, I wiped my face.
“It all righ’, Uppie.” Again her fingers touched my forehead.
I gritted my teeth. “My name’s Jared.”
“Cool meet.” She held out a hand, palm and fingers raised.
I groaned, sat cautiously.
“You bad as Pook.” Her tone dripped scorn. She grabbed my hand, pressed it to hers. “Say cool, Jared!”
“I don’t—” I gave up. “Cool meet.”
She rounded on Krand. “G’wan.”
“Wid Uppie? Naw.”
“’Kay. I tell Halber watcha done.” Without another look she started off.
“Wait, Allie!” Krand’s hand shot out.
I slapped away his hand. “Prong yourself.”
“See? He don’ wanna—”
“Say again, Krand,” she growled. I didn’t like the look in her eye.
“Cool meet.” A mumble.
I swallowed my pride. “Cool.”
“’Kay.” She squatted between us. “Why Halber brung ya, Uppie?”
“How in hell would I know?” And where was Pook, when I needed him?
“Why ya got Mid mark?” She pointed to my chest.
“Pook did it. Is he here? He was supposed to—”
Her eyes widened. “Pook be growed enough ta give upbringin’?” She turned to Krand. “Tolya he wasn’ no joeykit.”
“Hah, don’ mean nothin’. Watch me give him Easter mark!” He pulled out a knife.
She punched him, not that hard, the way I poked P.T. sometimes, as a warning. “Ya be Mid now, Jared?”
What was the safest answer? “Yes.” Maybe it would impress them.
She nodded. “Chaco, when Halber ain’ talkin’, ask him where he wan’ Uppie kept in rumb wid Parkas.”
“Noway. He too pissoff today.”
“’Kay. I ask. Leavimalone, bothayas.” She disappeared into the main corridor.
In no shape for a confrontation, I sat quietly. After a moment Allie was back, her eyes dancing. “We ride in unnercar wid Halber! He say bringalong Uppie.”
“Awrigh!” The boys slapped hands.
“C’mon. We wait unner.” Chaco and Barth hauled me to my feet as she trotted away.
I hobbled as fast as I could without boots. The corridor gave way to another, dimly lit, even danker than the last. Stairs, down, to a crumbling station.
On a track, a bright-lit car, the size of a bus. Around it was a crowd of trannies.
Allie said with dignity, “Halber tol’ us come widya.” We found a place near the wall. I huddled between Allie and Chaco, yearning for my stolen shirt. The tunnel was cold, and Allie kept glancing at my bare chest. I wished I had hair, like Dad. It wouldn’t be long now.
Halber shouted, “C’mon! All in!” I jerked awake.
With whoops and boisterous yells the streeters swarmed into the car. I wrinkled my nose at the reek of their bodies. From the opposite seat Krand giggled. “Uppie too good fo’ us!” He hawked, and a gob of spittle landed on my bare foot.
With a scream of rage I launched myself, but a hand
shot out, tightened on a shock of my hair, hauled me unceremoniously back to my seat.
I swung, protesting to Allie, “Did you see what he—”
Not Allie, but Halber. A growl. “Put ya ass on bench, Uppie.”
“Yessir.” Part of me marveled that I’d said it. Even at his most furious, Dad hadn’t elicited such quick obedience, or so meek a tone.
“All on? Lesgo!” Halber shouldered his way to a compartment in the front of the car. A lurch, a painful squeal, and the car was in motion. Its lights dimmed.
The trannie jabber fell to near silence, as joeys looked about with awe at the crumbling concrete walls that slid past.
Allie leaned close, said loudly into my ear, “Uppies got unnercars?”
“Huh?”
“Unnercars, like dis? You ride in?”
“Are you glitched? Think I’d be caught dead—” It was the wrong tack. “Buses,” I told her. “Helis, sometimes. Or a Hitrans, if time doesn’t matter.”
She looked smug. “Even Uppies ain’t got Sub car. Hah.”
I looked around. “Did the city restart the transport grid? I thought it was abandoned.”
She snorted. “No powah unner since Halber’s mama was joeykit. Maybe ’fore dat, even.” She leaned close, as if imparting a secret. “Valdez permas.”
“It would take a carload to ...” I tried to calculate, but I was too weary. “Where’d he get them?”
“Trayfo wid Changman.”
With that gibberish she lapsed silent.
A few moments later the din eased. The car ground to a halt, and exuberant, trannies crowded at the doors.
Halber emerged from his cubicle. “Lissen, allyas!” He clapped his hands, sharply. “Don’ want no stupe pokin’ head outa stair, or makin’ noise ta wake Parkas. Any fuckaroun’, I dissimfast. Cool?”
“Gotcha, Halber.” A general murmur of assent.
He opened the doors. “Wait in tunnel ’til signal. I be up innamin. Krand, you ain’ goin’ up. Get back wid Uppie!”
The boy scuttled to obey. I smirked, knowing it would irritate him.
Halber slid onto my bench. I cringed, awaiting the inevitable blow. Instead, he scrutinized my face. “Pook say you smart wid puters. Wyorenn?”
“Excuse me?”
In an instant Halber had me up against the side wall, fingers wrapped around my throat. His other hand drew back.
With great daring, Allie tapped his forearm. “’Xcuse, Halber. Uppie don’ unnerstan’ ya.”
“Why? He glitch?”
“Naw. But if dey gave ’im Mid mark, he mus’ be stupe like resta Mids. Gotta talk slow.”
Halber put his bristly face in front of mine. His eyes were bloodshot, and held a mean look that chilled me to the bone. “Pook say—” He spoke with exaggerated care. “—ya talk good wid puters. Wyorenn?”
I shot a helpless glance at Allie. She blurted, “Yes or no, Uppie?”
“Oh! Y! I mean, yessir!”
From a trannie perspective, I was an absolute genius. And with my friends, and their hackcode ...I had a hunch my status was about to shoot upward.
“Ya unnerstan’ towah puters?”
“Of course.” I tried to sound just short of contemptuous; that ought to impress him.
“C’n ya bring down a towah?”
Again I gaped. He frowned, and I said quickly, “Bring it down how, sir?”
His brow furrowed. “Stop elec. Turn off powah. Stop banks an’ chips ’n all.”
“God Almighty. You mean—”
“C’n ya crash it, so they ain’ no better ’n us?” His voice was savage.
“Destroy my whole world?” Despite myself, my lip curled. “Do you think for a minute I’d—”
“No, Halb!” Allie’s voice was shrill, but too late.
Halber’s fist slammed into my eye, smashed my head into the window behind. I ricocheted into his arms. “Oh, God! Christ Jesus!” Blood dripped down my split cheek. I stamped on the cold floor, trying to hold on to consciousness. I probed my eye, wondering if he’d knocked it out of my head.
“Canya, Uppie? No more frazzin’ shit!”
“Yes! No! I don’t know!” I lapsed into sobs.
“Hang onta him, Allie; I goin’ up. Nex’ time, Uppie, I wan’ ansa!” He stomped out.
Chapter 28
POOK
NEVER IN MILLION YEARS Pook so pissoff. Frazzin’ Uppie put my own shiv ta my throat ’n make me cry.
Afta, I didn’ care what he do; I so mad I grab a bucket an smash it ’gainst wall ’gain an ’gain till handle come loose an’ bucket fly back an’ hit me in face. I don’ ’member what happen next, ’xcept coupla minutes later I crouch inna corna, Uppieboy pattin’ my shoulda sayin’ easy Pook, don’ rev, don’ rev.
Can’ figga out how it all happen. Everythin’ seemed ta go so good: Pook fin’ Uppie Jared, make him capture, trayfo his boots ’n shirt for buncha cansa. But Peetee come an’ ruin everythin’. He throw poor Pook down on roof wid Jag an’ Swee watchin’. How Midboys respec’ Pook afta? Okay okay, Pookboy pick hisself up, get Halber agree ta borrow Jared fo’ while steada buy; means when he finish Pook c’n sell Jared back ta Uppies fo’ even more ’n Halber gonna pay.
But Peetee back, like itch in hot summa. Can’ he find someone else ta beat on ’sides Pookboy? Ain’ Pook’s fault Halber say ta fetch water fo’ Jared. Go up, hear noise. Maybe could ignore, but what if Mids find Pook lair an his cansa?
Ain’ righ’ dat Uppiekit smalla ’n Pook know magic rumb tricks. Pook figh’ like tiga. But jus’ as I go ta pick up shiv, Swee smash me, an’ Uppie grab it firs’.
Now, in upstair hall, Peetee askin’ where Subs take Jared. If I don’ tell him, dunno what he do. But if I say, Halber be royal pissoff.
Worse, I migh’ lose Jared, ’cause Peetee say he take his Uppie fren’ back ta towah.
I stall, thinkin’ a Changman. He c’n handle any tribe, even Uppies. Meantime, wheneva Peetee look away, I glance Swee sayin’ don’ botha askin’ forgive; ya gonna pay.
Peetee sigh. He hold shiv, wid look like his dinna don’ taste good. I tense, but he got me in corna, no place ta run.
“Look, Pook; I’ve really got to find Jar. So I’ll ask you where they took him. Each time you don’t answer, I’ll cut you. I’ll try not to hurt you too much, especially at first. But I’m going to keep doing it, until you tell me, or—” He swallow, an’ his voice go hard, “—until you can’t. I’m sorry. Really.”
Sometimes a joey hate himself fo’ what he can’ help. Pook wanna be brave, but noway wid Uppiekit wavin’ shiv pas’ face. I start ta sniffle. Before I c’n stoppit, turn inta wail. I sound jus’ like Jared in elevate.
Peetee mumble, “Lord God, I’ll do penance after, I swear. This is for Jared. Please understand.” His eyes meet mine.
As shiv come up I squeal, “Don’, Peetee. Pookboy show ya! Swear!”
He shout, “Where’s Jared?”
“Changman know! Gotta ask!” My mind marvel I come up wid great idea, jus’ as Uppie shiv ready ta slice. Changman’ll fix Peetee.
“Who? Where is he?”
“Changman ol’ trayta Neut. Cross block, up one!” I point, tryin’ not ta whimper.
Peetee frown. “Swee, is he zarking me?”
Midboy know he gotta take Uppie’s side, ’cause I dissim soon as I getta chance. “Dunno. Pook couldn’ tray Jared ta Subs by hisself widout help. Maybe Changman involve.”
I go indignant. ’Notha reason ta diss Swee.
I sigh. Not all his fault. If Peetee didn’ whomp on me two separate time in fronta, Swee unnerstand Pook all growed now. I wipe eyes on sleeve. “Changman tellya ’bout it in shop.”
So, das how Pook fin’ himself walkin’ casual down street, Swee on left, Uppie wid shiv on righ’. But before he lemme down stair, Peetee give so many warnin’s he soun’ like Chang. Don’ do dis, don’ do dat, you hear me Pook?
Could run, but two prollems. One, he got shiv, and migh’ catch me. Two, if M
ids see I ’fraid a scrawny Uppie joeykit, dey laugh me outa Mid turf.
Minute lata, we knockin’ at Chang door. Peetee stand close, point a shiv makin’ Pook’s back squirm.
Chang do his usual grumble. “Who dere? Watcha wan’?”
“It be me. Pook.”
Pause. His voice change. “I dunno any Pook. Usetabe joeykit dat name, but he wen’ off by hisself.”
I grit my teeth, say real nice, “Please, Mista Chang. Lemme in.”
“Can’ be same Pook I knew. That joeykit called Chang stupid ol’ man. Wouldn’ come ta shop for tea or visit.”
Peetee stir, restless. “I thought you said—”
I try again, “Mista Chang—”
’Notha pause. Then, “Go ’way. We close.”
Peetee’s eyes go fire. “I warned you, didn’t I?” Shiv poke me tight ta door.
I squeal, “Mista Chang, help me! Ohgod no, Peetee!” I tryta push away his shiv hand widout getting cut.
Inside, chains rattle. Sudden, door fall open. Chang loom ova, fierce. “Leggo my Pook! Now!”
Peetee lick his lips, uncertain. “Sir, I’m Philip Seaf—”
I see chance, an’ dart unner Chang’s arm, safe in shop. Wid howl, Peetee plunge pas’ Changman ta follow.
Uppie get between me an stair; we dance round Chang’s table. I try fo’ door, but he too fast, an’ I end up in corna, my han’s tryin’ ta protec’ alla me at once.
“What the fuck did you pull, you little trannie fraz—”
From door, Chang’s voice surprising quiet, considerin’ his shop invade. “What Fisherman gonna say, his joeykit talk like dat?”
Peetee almos’ past listenin’.
“Philip ... Tyre ... Seafort!” Chang use name like magic.
Maybe it a real hex. Uppieboy straighten, but hold tigh’ ta shiv. “I don’t mean trouble, sir, but this joey—”
Chang relock door. “‘Little trannie fraz?’ Dat what he taught ya ’bout us?”
Peetee shake his head, his rage fadin’. “How do you know my name?”
“He tol’ me.”
“Who?”
“Fisherman. Your father.”
Peetee stamp flo’. “Can’t any of you tell the truth? You’re as bad as this—”
“He sat right there, las’ nigh’, in chair you knock ova.” Chang point. “Where you gonna sit, while tell me what goin’ on.”
Voices of Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 5) Page 25
