Voices of Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 5)

by David Feintuch

Halber cupped hand to my ear. “You ain’ so glitch afta all, Chang.”

  “Ya approve?”

  “Yo!” He clapped hands sharp, ’til got ’em listenin’. “Well, joeys?”

  An Efdear, his voice drippin’ scorn. “Who wanna negotiate like pussy Easters!”

  In instant, half a dozen Easters clawed toward him.

  Halber put stop to it. He stuck fingers in mouth, whistled shrill. “Allayas be in Sub turf,” he bellowed. “Knockitoff!” I held breath, but in a min, riot was quell.

  A China said, “Pussy way or no, I don’ care. Fine wid us if it stop Unies. ’Notha couple days we be complete pushout!”

  From those aroun’ him, unease. It ran against grain of trannie culture to admit weakness. Even faced with pushout, tribe way was to bristle.

  A Rock said soft, “Us too. Down ta two lair.”

  “An’ us.” Slowly, the admission of disaster ran aroun’ the room.

  “Well, then.” Halber. “Seem ta me, we rumb an’ negotiate, same time. Prollem is, who c’n we get ta negotiate?”

  I watch him careful, realizin’ he my match as traytaman. Not a hint of smile on his face.

  I rode in undercar with dozen Mids and Broads to Three Four staysh. Subs on guard at stairs warned that Unies crawlin’ all ova place. No way could I scuttle cross street under Unie fire, but didn’ have to. Mid joeys conferred with each otha, ’cause was their turf.

  Two joeys ran out side stair, dived into build.

  Twenny min, they back, exultant.

  “No Unies near wes’ stair. From there, alleys an’ through builds ta shop.”

  “Shop bust?” I couldn’ keep anxiety out.

  “Naw. Cross corna, they brung down ol’ build, but yo’ block safe still.”

  We all went in anxious group.

  It cost me months of life, but finally we huddled round door while I unlocked shop. We all crowded inside.

  More ’n any thin’ I hated to lettem see upstair, but no choice. I couldn’ lug down Valdez by self. Anyway, my best trayfo hid under tarps, case of wet.

  While up, I rummaged through medkits. Reason to stay alive, now.

  Much harder to flee back to Sub, with everyone ’xcept me loaded with heavy permas. Somehow, we managed.

  Undercar waited.

  Back to Four Two.

  Tribe meet was long over, only few speakfos left. Rest had started home to tell tribes ’bout new world.

  Halber busy takin’ trannie refugees inta Sub, organizing attack on Unie base at Fourteen.

  Before we left for shop, he’d told meet it was for me to decide how to arrange negotiate. He assigned twenty Sub joeys to help. They eager, like some kinda game.

  “Now ...” Wished I could fuss with tea. Easier to think. “Bes’ if govermen don’ know Four Two Sub be our command. Gotta sneak me up to some build so I get to them from there. ’Kay?”

  “No prollem.” One joey punched ’nother in arm.

  “Stoppit! Upside, joeys dyin’ ever min.” I tried to make voice less sharp.

  “Cool jets, Changman.” But they subside.

  I said, “Need someone ’special brave.” I looked around. If was buncha Uppies, I’d prolly have dozen volunteers. But trannies fear swind.

  “Need white cloth on stick, to make flag. And brave Sub out on street, to wave.”

  “Me!” Four hands, all at once.

  Stupid Subboys thought it some kinda adventure. Inside, I sighed. “Wave at Unies. Army rule is, don’ shoot no one wid flag. Hope, anyway. When they take ya, show ’em note I wrote, an’ say, hol’ ya fire, tribes sendin’ out speakfo negotiator. When they agree, ya come to build to get me. But mustn’ tell ’em where I at ’til they agree.”

  I hoped it wasn’ too much for them to understan’.

  I swallowed pill from medkit, let them help me up side stair half cover with rubble, an’ scoot into bashed shop. From there, out back door to other build half a block south. I woulda preferred further from Sub, but too far for old legs, this long day.

  Hid safe in my build, I sent out Sub flagman Barth, hopin’ they wouldn’ burn him down. Too much glee in eyes, this almos’ grown joeykit.

  I waited hour at leas’. Hear shootin’, rumble of tanks. ’Nother hour.

  I grew agitate, massaged achin’ chest with stiff fingers.

  ’Nother hour still.

  Sounds of govermen army quietin’ down.

  “Chang?” Barth poked in head, still wavin’ flag like glitch-boy. “Dey wantcha ta meet Genral.”

  “Who?”

  “Genral. Tol’ me ta say, dey’ll lissen.”

  “Sure they won’ shoot?”

  “Dunno. Din’ shoot me.”

  Despite feel warm, I button coat, take deep breath. “Les’ go.”

  Proudly wavin’ grimy white flag, Barth led me down Broad, back into Four Two square.

  My mouth dry. Didn’ know what I faced.

  Filmatleven.

  Part II

  September 2, in the Year of our Lord 2229

  Chapter 41

  PHILIP

  I PRAYED ALL THE way down in the elevator. Please Lord, don’t let the doors open to a blast of fire, don’t let me watch my skin blister while I gasped one last breath of superheated toxic steam that roasted my lungs and ... a hundred thirty-two divided by five expressed to four decimals in base twelve and concentrate on that until—

  The doors slid open.

  I was so paralyzed with relief I almost waited too long. I dived out just before they shut.

  The hallway carpet was sopping wet. A small stream of water trickled through an open door.

  I was on the floor above street level. I’d chosen it intentionally, hoping not to blunder into a hallway full of frenzied transpops. From what I’d heard on the roof, the lowest fires were above me, and anyway if they had any sense, the Subs would-have left themselves an exit.

  Though if they had any sense, why would they burn a tower?

  I followed the stream to the same stairwell we’d helped Mr. Boland climb, so many flights above. The steps were slippery; I carefully gripped the rail, stopping every so often to listen for voices, but there were none.

  Cautiously, I descended to street level.

  The stairs opened on a long corridor. Emergency lights flickered, giving the passage an eerie glow that died in the distance. I prepared equations to solve, just in case.

  Someday, I’d tell Mr. Skeer how they helped. I might also tell him how it felt to crush the facial bones of a dying Sub in the Park. How it felt to defy Fath and to witness Mom’s anguish as the elevator doors slowly closed.

  They might never understand, but Jared came first, before them, before even me. It was I who’d provoked him into leaving. I’d aroused the misery that so unhinged him he’d urged the Subs to rampage. I’d read in my downloaded psych texts that acute pain engenders rage. I could guess what Jared felt.

  Luckily my own thoughts were clearer than his. I hoped someday I’d feel remorse for what I’d done, so as not to become a sociopath. If Fath punished me, it might help me deal with it.

  But for now, all I felt was resolve.

  Chaco would have to wait.

  Ahead in the corridor, the glow of day. I hoped it indicated an open door to the street, else I’d have to backtrack.

  Two sacks lay on the floor. I stepped over one, recoiled. It was a tribesman, his dead eyes staring. Near him, a guard.

  I gulped, practiced equations, steeled myself not to rev.

  Did something move behind me, in the dark? I walked at first, then raced to the open doorway and shot out to the street.

  The light was blinding.

  I rubbed my eyes. A handful of bloody dead lay about. Their clothes suggested they were hotel guests. Were the transpops killing everyone they caught?

  At the far corner, a massive fire-fighting heli hovered, its vast water tanks almost too great for the rotors to lift. Below it, slow-moving vehicles of U.N.A.F. soldiers.

  A
cross the street loomed another massive tower, and a block south, a third. I searched the facades for clues as to which building Jared’s captors had attacked.

  No smoke, no shattered doors. In the windows a block south, office lights flickered.

  I doubted it was safe to run the length of the block; I’d try the tower across the street first. Taking a deep breath, I dashed across.

  A faint cry. “There’s one!”

  Though I’d come out to search for Subs, I didn’t care to meet them on the open street. Halber’s people didn’t seem to listen to reason.

  To my right, a chunk of pavement smoked and cracked. Instantly I veered left, to the south.

  Another bolt. Sparks flicked into my legs. I yelped, veered again. Zagging and dodging, I reached the far side of the street and pressed myself into a recessed shop doorway.

  The shop was long abandoned, of course. No help there. With infinite caution, I peered out. Two troopers were approaching with weapons ready. On the road, an abandoned electricar. If I used it as a shield ...I leaped out of the doorway, raced down the street, glancing back. I couldn’t see the soldiers past the car. That meant they couldn’t see me. Could a rifle fire through a ruined car and pick me off? I ran harder. My shoulders itched.

  I reached the corner, glanced both ways.

  West half a block was a platoon of Unies. They strode down the center of the road, rifles across their chests.

  I raced past the side street before any of them took aim. My lungs were about to burst.

  No choice now. I veered right, toward the looming tower.

  Like the Sheraton, the building was a fortress. Heavy steel emergency doors, no windows. I ran to the nearest door, clawed at the knob. Locked shut.

  In a moment the Unie platoon would reach the corner. Following the building, I dashed around the side, found another door. Also locked.

  I sucked air into my heaving chest.

  At the far corner was another door. Wheezing, I no longer cared if the troopers got me. I walked.

  The doorknob was missing. I put my hand into the hole, yanked hard.

  Nothing. Disgusted, I turned to go.

  “Yo!” Voices, inside.

  I froze. Then I turned. I rapped on the door and said hoarsely, “Gotta see Jared.”

  “Who go?”

  Unable to think of another name, I said, “Chaco.”

  The door swung open.

  Three Subs gaped at me, and I stared back. One of them was old and toothless, and carried a cutting assembly.

  “He ain’ Sub.”

  “A frazzin’ Uppie!”

  “Mr. Chang sent me. Where’s Jared?”

  “Wha?” A suspicious look, first at me, then to each other.

  “Take me to Jared!” I used Mom’s tone that meant, right now, young man. I added, “I’m supposed to help.” With what, I wasn’t sure.

  The leader said, “Closa frazzin’ door, Poul.” Suddenly we were all inside in the close confines of the corridor.

  “Seen Unies, Chaco?” Poul.

  “Yes, sir, I just missed a platoon coming around the corner. And there’s soldiers at a command post on the avenue a block north. They shot at me.”

  It was the best thing I could have said. Their suspicions dissolved. “Frazzin’ Unies pushout every tribe in trannietown,” Poul growled.

  “Mr. Chang wanted me to see Jared right away,” I said hopefully.

  “I ask Raulie. Sollie, get the frazzin’ door weld shut.”

  The old man bobbed his head. “Long as some Uppiekit don’ comealong an’ pop it open while I work.”

  “C’mon, Chaco.” Poul tramped down the corridor. He took me to a door. “Elevate. It go upandown.” He stabbed the button.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Nineflo’.”

  “Why?”

  He giggled. “You see.” Then, a frown. “Thought ya was sent ta help.”

  At that moment the caller in my pocket buzzed. Until now, I’d forgotten I had it.

  “Whazzat?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  It rang again.

  I didn’t know what to do. Tentatively, I drew it from my pocket, keyed it on. “Hello?” I found it hard to speak.

  Mom’s voice cracked like a whip. “Philip, where are you?”

  I said nothing.

  “Tell me this instant!”

  With a dazzling burst of clarity I knew I was at a threshold that could never be recrossed. I said, “No, ma’am.”

  Her tone reeled with hurt. “Why, P.T.? What are you doing?” Almost, it made me relent.

  “I’ve got to find Jared.”

  Poul stared, openmouthed.

  “If he’s burning towers with the trannies, he’s made his own bed. You’ve done all you could.”

  I cried, “No I haven’t!” Why couldn’t she see? “He ran away because of what I said. I’m responsible.”

  “No, you’re—”

  “I almost had him in Pook’s lair, but the Subs took him. Then I got in the middle of ...Mom, there’s dead joeys and blood and I can’t begin to sleep and I’ve got to find him and talk to him so somehow this will end!” My voice cracked.

  A long silence. “I’ll let you speak to your father.”

  “NO! He’s already too hurt, and he’s fragile.”

  She was silent.

  I said, “I think Jared’s upstairs. I’ll try to bring him home.”

  “Which building are you in?”

  “Ma’am, I won’t tell you.” I gripped the caller, wishing it would shatter in my hand. “Stop trying to find me. I’ll call when I’m ready.”

  “PT!”

  “I’m taking out the battery, so I can’t be traced. I’m sorry.” I keyed off the caller, pulled the power unit, wiped my eyes.

  Poul growled; “Ya said Changman sentcha, Chaco.”

  The elevator bell chimed.

  “He sort of did. I—”

  The doors slid open, and I was face to face with Raulie.

  His mouth fell open. “Peetee!” His hand whipped to the knife in his belt.

  I skidded backward into Poul, inadvertently shoving him into the wall.

  “Wait!” Raulie lunged.

  I bolted.

  I headed for the outer door; Raulie was between me and the elevator and left me no choice.

  A bright light, like the sun. Sparks flew.

  Raulie yelled, “Diss ’im! Halber sayta!”

  The toothless old man looked up from his work. “Whazzis?”

  The handle of the door glowed red, as did the steel frame.

  I launched into a dropkick, hurtled feetfirst into the knob. The door crashed open. The old man cursed. I rolled to my feet, raced into the street.

  The Unie patrol was nowhere to be seen, but I knew their command post was a block north. As I ran I glanced back. Raulie pounded after me.

  I dashed around the corner, heading west. Across the street, a building burned.

  Somehow I had to evade Raulie and try again to get into Jared’s tower. I reached the avenue, veered north. I needed to get far enough ahead to find a hiding place.

  Raulie wasn’t a fast runner. I did my best, ignoring the ache in my calves.

  I looked back again, didn’t see him. I’d go another block, no more. I didn’t want to end up too far from the tower.

  Again I glanced over my shoulder. No sight of him, but ...

  I cannoned into an unseen figure. The wind was knocked out of me. I lay on the ground, gasping.

  A Sub. He carried a pole from which a filthy sheet hung.

  “Watchit, grode!” His eyes narrowed. “An uppiekit, onna street?” Automatically his hand went to his knife. “Why?”

  I couldn’t move, even to save my life. My head reeled. I couldn’t tell him Raulie was after me, or ask help getting home. I could barely speak. I made a sound, half laugh, half sob, and desperately invented an errand. “I was looking for Mr. Chang,” I said.

  “Why?” He
leaned close, knife in hand.

  I had to keep him off-balance. “Halber sent me. I have news.”

  A moment’s pause. “Okay,” he said, and helped me up. “He wid Unies. Our negotiate.”

  I gaped.

  “I be Barth. C’mon.” Proudly, he waved the sheet, and started north.

  I had to get off the street before Raulie found me, and in my befuddlement I let Barth lead me to a Unie outpost. Several soldiers stood guard, their expressions tense. I edged behind the Sub, hoping if they were going to shoot, Barth would be hit first.

  This wasn’t working out well. In the hotel, Fath told me he’d given my holo to the jerries. When the troopers recognized me, they’d have me in Mom’s hands in no time, and the consequences would be grim. But it was too late to run. Casually, I rubbed my face to spread the grime.

  “Message fo’ Mista Chang,” Barth said. “Where he be?”

  A soldier’s rifle swung. “Who’s this?” His look was one of loathing.

  I said quickly, “Chaco. I got word for Mr. Chang.”

  “Sit there.” Then, to Barth, “Get the fuck out of here.”

  “Flagga truce,” the Sub said in an injured voice. “It’s a rule.”

  The soldier clicked off his rifle’s safety. “Disappear!”

  Barth scuttled off.

  I swallowed, afraid to say a word. Surreptitiously, I reached down, gathered more dirt, ran my hand across my shirt.

  The trooper keyed his caller. “Lieutenant? This is Affens, on Forty-first. Some trannie joey, with a message for the negotiator.” He listened. “God only knows, sir. He’s too young to be more than a messenger.” Again he listened. “Right, sir. Will do.”

  Minutes passed. A four-seater landed, its rotors twirling to a stop.

  “In, trannie!”

  I tried to get the accent right. “Where ya takin’ me?”

  With a curse, he threw me into the heli.

  We lifted off.

  Minutes later, we landed on a tower pad. I cringed. If Mom or Fath were here, I’d be tempted to throw myself from the parapet. I’d disobeyed them outright; only my finding Jared might justify the price.

  Two troopers came for me, led me into the tower. They led me down a long corridor, opened a door, thrust me in.

  Pedro Chang sat in a heavy coat with many pockets, alone, massaging his chest.