Voices of Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 5)

by David Feintuch

  Halber had ferried undercars full of trannies past them all, to Fourteen Square. Bypassin’ Sub stair, they’d sneaked out of ventholes, infiltrated buildings, attacked the Unie camp. Govermen were better armed, but tribes fought with savage abandon ’cause little left to lose. Halber sent his precious few lasers, and that caught Unies total surprise. Soon, tribes had more lasers. Then more yet. Trannies quick showed each other how to use.

  Our raiding party burned troop trucks. Took rations, med-kits, and, in major coup, supply boxes fulla laser recharge packs. Disappeared back into Sub as first counterattack helis appeared overhead. Too late for Unies on street, though. None left alive.

  I asked, “When?”

  “Finish three hours back.”

  “Ahh. It figure.” General Ruben poked head in, soon after.

  Halber said, “Natch, alla tribes wanted lasers firs’ thing. I warned ’em, gotta hold for rumb. So buncha joeys volunteer ta rumb wid us.” He grinned. “Maybe trouble gettin lasers back, afta. But fo’ now, plenny of trannie sojers.”

  “Good.” I smiled to encourage, but inside I knew it wasn’ enough. A few untrain trannies couldn’ dislodge Unie army, even on own turf.

  “I sen’ our laser joeys ta help Mids on Three Four. Broads and Rocks joined ’em.” Halber shook head. “Your idea workin’, Chang. Think we be one trannie tribe when it’s ova?”

  “Dunno,” I said, cross. “Filmatleven. What else ya plan?”

  “Sheraton still burnin’; Raulie did good job. Lotsa tribes saw scorch an’ it made ’em jealous. So I sendin’ ten bands, each wid coupla laser, try ta hit more towahs.”

  “They be ready this time,” I warned. “Lotsa Unies waitin’ inside, ready ta rumb.”

  “Sure.” He shrug. “But we’ll hit ’em all at once. An Sollie, he say give him few hour, he c’n make pipebombs. Ya know what dey be?”

  “Dunno.” In shop, I read ’bout Napoleon, Hitler, Gettysburg. Nothin’ ’bout pipebombs.

  “He say they bus’ through door by self.”

  “Still, if Unies inside waitin—”

  “Go back ta ya negotiate, ol’ man; I already work it out wid Raulie. Start seven clock tonigh’. We’ll bomb one door in towah, but burn in through ’notha, so Unies confuse. Sure, some of us diss. But some won’ be.”

  “I thought Raulie was sent with Jared.”

  “Yeah, but he left.” Face brightened. “Look!” He crossed cavern, led me to box of callers. “Fo’ communicate, jus’ like Uppies,” he said proud. “Thas how Raulie’s joeys know ta blow towahs, all same time. Hey!” He thrust one into my hands. “Take wid ya. Ya won’ have ta come back ta Sub fo’ negotiate.”

  I said, “Okay to use sometime, but Uppies’ll lissen.”

  “Don’ matta if we careful.”

  I put it in coat pocket. “Gotta go. Govermen wan’ me to prove I be speakfo, so we agree, no shootin ’tween Forty One an’ Forty Three whole eve.”

  He glowered. “Ya helpin’ ’em push us out?”

  I bristled. “Ya wan’ ’notha negotiate? I go home ta shop, make cuppa tea.”

  “Okay okay, cool jets. But tell ya Uppie frien’: sojers move in durin’ no-shoot, we diss ’em.”

  “Runnin’ outa time.” I started to stair.

  “Dunno ’bout Jared.” Halber walk ’longside. “Is he glitch, or jus’ Uppie? He say don’ burn Holoworl’ tower cause he need it. But when I talked ta Pook onna caller, Pook say Uppie jus’ playin’ wid putah.”

  “Pook’s still with him?”

  “Like adhese, he say. Prolly cause I put scare in him ’fore I lettim go.” He sighed. “Jared called ta complain Pook jus’ a trannie stupe, don’ know importance a what he doin’. Buncha bombs goin’ off inna markets every coupla hour. Why can’t I hear ’em, Chang? Worms inna system, he tell me. Gonna start hittin’ tonight. Watch London ’xchange, he say. An N’Yawk.”

  Halber shook his caller. “Prollem wid callers is ya can’ whomp joey on otha end when he talkin’ glitch. Fah. Hate ’em.” He spat. “Got any idea what he talkinabout?”

  “Maybe,” I say, weight in chest feelin’ lighter. “Maybe.”

  Chapter 46

  PHILIP

  I DOZED, MY HEAD on the table, until a trooper opened the door, carrying a hot and savory tray.

  My mouth watered.

  “Need to use the bathroom, joey?” His face was almost as young as Jared’s, but I knew he had to be older. U.N.A.F. didn’t allow enlistment until seventeen. And then there’d be training.

  “Yes, please.”

  “Out here.” He took my arm, led me to a cubicle. “You know how?” He indicated the flush mechanism.

  I remembered just in time I was supposed to be a transpop, and stuck out my chest as Pook had done. “Mr. Chang show me.” My dialect wouldn’t fool a real tribesman, but I suspected this soldier wouldn’t know the difference.

  When I was done, I washed some of the grime off my hands—not too much; I didn’t want to ruin my disguise—and hurried back to my tray. Objectively speaking, I was rather hungry.

  Another soldier wandered in. They watched me eat. I used my fingers, in a manner that would have scandalized Mom.

  “Better hope the old man comes back,” said the older. “Or we toss you off the roof.”

  “He didn’t mean it,” the younger said quickly. To his mate, “Look at his eyes, for Chrissake. Don’t do that.”

  “Fuckin’ trannie scum.”

  “He’s a joeykit. About my brother’s age.”

  “You Dan’s brother?” The older jabbed at my arm. “Are you?”

  I shook my head, not trusting my accent.

  “Where you live on the street?”

  “Lair.” I stared at my dinner.

  “Why they using you for a go-between?”

  I shrugged, but it didn’t seem to satisfy them. “Dunno. Ask Halber.”

  “Who’s he?”

  The door opened, and Mr. Chang shuffled in. Never had I been so glad to see an adult.

  His eyes flitted from me to the soldiers, and back. “Whas’ up?”

  “Feeding him.”

  “Takes two? Why Chaco look so scare?” Again he looked back and forth. “Been interrogatin’, hah?”

  “Nonsense. Come on, Dan.”

  “Bring the tray. Don’t leave them with metal silverware.”

  Mr. Chang snorted. “Yah, an’ take bootlaces too, so I can’ strangle ya in sleep. This whatcha call negotiatin’? Fell!”

  The two stalked to the door.

  A few moments later the major looked in. “General Ruben wants to know if you brought surrender terms.”

  Chang swelled with pride. “Absolute. We ready to ’cept your surrender righ’ now.”

  “Don’t give me that—” With an effort, he restrained himself. “Did you bring terms?”

  “Uppies gotta learn ta trayfo. Neva survive onna street for a min.” He waved the soldier away. “Hey!”

  In the doorway, the major turned.

  “Message for ya redhair general. Tellim I don’ need lotsa sleep. Tellim when price o’ war get high, I be waitin’.”

  The moment we were alone I bent close. “Did you find out about Jared?”

  He hesitated, as if making up his mind. “Yes.”

  “Where is he?” I couldn’t keep the eagerness out of my tone. All Mr. Chang had to do was tell me where Jared hid and invent an errand to get me out of the building. Finally, I’d take my battered friend home.

  “Cancha forget ’bout him, Peetee? I mean, Chaco. I gotta call ya that, else I make mistake in fronta.”

  “Forget Jared?” I didn’t hide my indignation. “Mr. Chang, look how far I’ve come to rescue him.”

  The old transpop brooded. He sighed, patted my hand. “Ya ever wonder, joeykit, maybe he don’t want rescuin’?”

  I’d curled up in my chair, too angry to speak to Mr. Chang. They’d cut Jared’s chest, beaten him, tied him helpless in a dank elevator, taken his clothes. Of course
he wanted rescue.

  After a long while, I dozed.

  A commotion in the hall. The door swung open. Blearily, I checked my watch. It was two in the morning. Mr. Chang sat at the table, looking as if he hadn’t moved. In front of him were papers, pens, even a small holovid.

  The major strode in, his expression grim. Behind him, in the hall where the old man couldn’t see, was red-haired General Ruben.

  Mr. Chang stirred. “Yah. Whatcha wan’?”

  “You ready to arrange terms?” The major planted his hands on his hips.

  “Always have been.”

  “We want the riot ended, and that means now. No more attacks on towers.”

  In the corner, I sat up cautiously, hoping not to be seen but anxious to hear.

  “An’ we get what?”

  “I’m not done. U.N.A.F. patrols aren’t to be harmed, and we want our weapons back. All of them.”

  Mr. Chang sighed. “You woke me for that? Think I didn’ know?”

  “Well? Do you agree?”

  “Wha’s innifo?”

  “You’ll end the killing. Do you know how many of your trannie friends are dead, thanks to your rebellion?”

  Mr. Chang’s eyes grew cold. “Yes, do you?”

  “Few enough, compared with what’s to come.”

  “You come in wid bluster an’ hate, wakin’ me fo’ nothin’, to tell me ya wan’ us to lie down an’ die quiet. Fo’ years we been dyin’ an’ you didn’ notice. No more. Streets be ours, an’ towahs fallin’!”

  “I’m warning you.”

  Mr. Chang snarled, “And I warnin’ you, Genral’s errand boy! How long ya think it be only N’Yawk, hah? Think you can stop word gettin’ out?”

  “Newark’s the only other—” He bit it off. “Old man, rebellion is treason against the Government of Lord God. We’re under martial law; if I hear so much as one more threat, I’ll have you hanged!”

  Mr. Chang rose unsteadily. “I’ll save you trouble! All it takes is I jump up ’n down few times and I fall dead with stop heart, ’fore you c’n call medic. Then who you gonna negotiate with, dumbass?” His face grew red. “I only one they lissen to!”

  “Go ahead. If you think I give Lord God’s damn whether you live—”

  Mr. Chang flapped his arms, making short but energetic hops.

  I lunged to my feet. “STOP, BOTH OF YOU!” I ran to the old man, tugged desperately at his coat.

  The major folded his arms.

  Mr. Chang thrust me aside, continued his erratic dance.

  “That’s enough!” From the doorway, Ernst Ruben’s voice sliced through the tumult. “Mr. Chang, sit down.”

  The old trader glared.

  “Please. I ask as a personal favor.”

  Panting, Mr. Chang regarded him a moment, tottered to his seat.

  “That’s all, Major.”

  “Sir, you shouldn’t be alone with—”

  “Dismissed.”

  “Yes, sir.” The major stalked out, his mouth grim.

  Mr. Chang’s face was an unhealthy hue. I poured a cup of water. He rumbled in one of his many pockets, emerged with a pill box. He swallowed two pills, took a gulp of the water, clutched my arm.

  General Ruben waited stolidly. “Let me know when you’re well enough to continue.”

  “Few mins.” Mr. Chang gasped for air. His lips moved, perhaps in prayer. After a moment he muttered under his breath. It sounded like a curse.

  After a time his grip on my arm eased.

  “I apologize for Major Groves,” Ruben said. “A close friend was stationed at Fourteenth Street.” His tone was quiet, almost companionable. “But he was wrong to provoke you.”

  Mr. Chang let out a sigh, gestured for me to pour more water. “Too old for this nonsense,” he muttered.

  “Are you recovered now, Mr. Chang? Time is short.”

  The trader nodded.

  “Your trannies are behind the Hacker attack?”

  Mr. Chang’s expression went bland. “Attack?”

  “What else would you call it?”

  “Wha’s happenin’?”

  “The international markets have gone berserk, and the disruption is puter-driven. We’ll have a trace soon, but do you realize the harm you’re causing? The markets are so complex, if they crash they can’t be rebuilt in weeks, even months. When depression hits, your people will starve.”

  Mr. Chang snorted. “Already do.”

  “Not like they will.” He leaned forward. “Are you a reasonable man, Mr. Chang? Help me find a solution.”

  The old trader peered into his eyes. “Water pipes goin’ dry all over city. Fix.”

  Ruben looked puzzled. “That’s a municipal matter. I know nothing about it.”

  “For us it’s life matter! Tribes be pushout all ova, an ya don’ even know why they dyin’?” He grimaced. “Betcha could fin’ out inna hurry if you wan’.”

  General Ruben nodded. “Wait here.” He left.

  In the stillness of the room Mr. Chang sighed, and struggled out of his heavy coat.

  “Sir?” My voice was hesitant. “Why?”

  “I try ta die?”

  I nodded.

  “Hadda, Chaco. Was all I had lef.” He saw my confusion, and added, “Either they wanted to negotiate, or not. If so, hadda force ’em; more Unie troops on street each hour. Time runnin’ out fo’ Halber.” A pause. “And if not, no point in ol’ Chang stayin’ to watch.”

  “Please, sir. There’s been enough death.” My eyes stung.

  “What you know ’bout death, joeykit?”

  I tried to speak, but my voice failed. I shook my head.

  He patted my arm. “Okay okay, Chaco. ’Nother time, you tell. Don’ flare jets.”

  Disguised as a transpop, sitting at a Unie conference table high in a tower, I thought of the Sub who’d lain dying in the park, and tried not to rev. Instead I focused on the transpop war, on Mr. Chang’s confrontation with General Ruben, on the city’s slide into bedlam. I wondered why the General was concerned with hacking, at a time like this.

  Some joeys couldn’t get puters out of their mind. Like Jar.

  Patterns.

  After a time I said, “Mr. Chang, where’s Jared?”

  “Huh?” He jerked awake. “Why allasudden you—”

  “It’s Jar, isn’t it? He’s been hack—”

  Mr. Chang’s hand shot out to cover my mouth. “Some things, don’ say in watched room, Chaco.”

  “He is the one!” I jumped to my feet. “Tell me where to find him!”

  “Can’. Anyway, if you—”

  “Don’t you know?”

  He pursed his lips. “Not ’xactly.”

  “I need to tell him—”

  The door swung open. “All right,” said General Ruben.

  I sat quickly.

  “It’s called the Hudson Freshwater Project.” The General took a seat across from Mr. Chang. “The city’s grown. The towers need water, and they built a new system to supply it.”

  “By takin’ water from street pipes!”

  “Only temporarily, until more desalinization plants—”

  “Hah!”

  “Look, Mr., uh, Chang, our urban economy is centered in the towers. Their needs must be met. In the city of New York not a single ratepayer was cut off. Not one. It’s only the abandoned areas that—”

  “We didn’ abandon ’em!” Chang’s eyes glowed like coals. “You talkin thousands of lives, hunnerts of thousands!”

  “Sir, this isn’t my province. If we restore peace, I’ll submit your objections to the authorities. I’m sure they’ll ...”

  Mr. Chang folded his arms, swung his chair to the wall.

  Ruben’s voice sharpened. “Damn it, we’re out of time. Talk to me!”

  Mr. Chang swiveled. “What you wan’ me to say? What you give me, take back to my trannies?”

  “The Administration will hear your protests. The SecGen would consider leniency for the ringleaders. The U.N.A.F. i
s ready to move in force; you’ll save countless lives if you end resistance. Isn’t that enough?”

  Mr. Chang looked like he was searching for someplace to spit. “Not even a promise. Nothin’.”

  Ruben’s fingers tapped the table. “If ... we gave you a new purification plant?”

  “How much water? When?”

  “I don’t know. As soon as possible, obviously.”

  “Turn pipes back on, meantime?”

  “I doubt they’d do that, now the Phase One towers are occupied. You’d have to conserve as best you could. As to construction schedules, I’ll check with the political committee they’ve assigned us.” Ruben waited, but no answer came. “And we want your Hackers off-line this hour, as a demonstration of good faith.”

  The old man said coolly, “Annoyin’ ya, are they?”

  Ruben snapped, “It’s no joking matter.” Again he waited. “Mr. Chang, we’re two hours from dawn. By first light it will be too late; I won’t be able to recall the troops.”

  From Mr. Chang, a long silence. Then, “Gotta talk to my people.”

  “You have a caller. Make contact.” The general stood, strode to the door, and left.

  I said, “Mr. Chang, it’s time I—”

  “Not now, Chaco.”

  I leaned close, spoke softly into his ear. “Yes, now, sir. I’ve been through hell to find Jared, and you know the way. I’m going to him.”

  “Negotiate is more important than your spoiled Uppiekit Men’.” Mr. Chang fingered his caller.

  “Jar’s part of the negotiations, if he’s the Hacker.” My knuckles were white against the table. “Do you know how I got to you? I ran from my father and mother. You understand? I tore loose from Father’s hand and ran!”

  I paused, to force my voice under control. “He’ll never forgive me. I’ve lost my family, ruined my future, killed a man I wanted to save! You can’t tell me it was all for nothing. I’ll talk to Jared and try to make sense of this ... this madness.” My eyes stung. “Let me save him before hell breaks loose. Perhaps I can’t, but I have to try. Tell me where he is or ...” I found it hard to finish.

  “G’wan, joey.” Mr. Chang’s tone was soft. His fingers no longer stroked the caller.

  “If you leave me with nothing else, I’ll tell them who I am, and have them call Father. I won’t betray you or your Sub friends, but I’ll tell them it’s Jared behind the hacking, and that he’s somewhere near.”