He shrugged. “You may be right, but P.T.’s on the street. This is my last chance; I had to bribe a helicab to get me here. Arlene and the Tamarovs are holed up in the apartment. She’s ... distraught.”
“I’m sorry.”
He paced impatiently while the soldiers worked at the chained door. “I don’t know what will come of us, after.” He sounded glum. “We’re barely speaking.”
“I’m surprised she isn’t with you.”
“I forbade it; if P.T. lives through this, he’ll need one of us alive. But she may well be on the street anyway.”
“Jesus.”
“Don’t blaspheme. You men stand back, I’ll laser the bloody chain.” He drew his pistol.
“The lock’s frozen; it’s been years since—there, sir.” The soldier stood aside, his task done. “We’ll relock it the moment you’re outside. The major’s ordered a squad posted here until you return, or ...”
“Yes, or.” With a curt nod, the Captain pushed open the door, peered in both directions, and was gone.
On the screen, Rex Fizer grimaced. “There’ll be heat from the bleeding hearts.”
Fifteen seconds later Admiral Thorne said, “So be it.” The damned delays from Lunapolis were inevitable, but driving me to distraction.
“Up to a point.” Marion Leeson, SecGen Kahn’s political advisor, sat in for him while he pretended to be busy in London. At least she was actually in the room, and not just another electronic image. She added, “So long as we show we did everything possible to achieve a peaceful solution.”
General Ruben looked about to tear his hair. “For God’s sake, Marion, the troops are in motion. We’ve gone over this so many times—”
Leeson’s voice sharpened. “And we may not be done. What about the trannie representative? Shouldn’t we talk to him ourselves?”
“I’ve deliberately kept the old man isolated from us. He’s in contact with his people, and is able to arrange a surrender. In the meantime, we don’t want to seem overly interested in his notions.”
I said, “Even if it’s a farce, I think we ought to interview him formally. And if the mediamen upstairs got a few shots, all the better.” I couldn’t imagine the trannies producing a representative who could grasp the complexities involved. But if his people were starving and desperate, a small gift to the negotiator might work wonders. I wondered if he knew the value of cash.
Jeff Thorne rumbled, “Is that necessary, General? You told us you’d eliminate the opposition within two days.”
“‘Organized resistance,’ was what I said.” Ruben glared. “There’ll be snipers a long while after. That can’t be helped.” He shined a pointer on the city map projected on the screen. “The enemy stole some comm units when they overran Fourteenth. We’ve been monitoring all possible channels.”
“That’s well and good, but—”
“And civilian caller channels as well.” A brief smile that didn’t light his eyes. “Obviously we can’t monitor all calls in a city this size. Instead, we looked for unusual patterns, and this is what we found.” His light pulsed. “Calls here and here, where there’s never been traffic. It involves a large number of personal callers. We’ve ID’d the carrier beams. It seems the callers were taken from two towers, one here, and one on Thirty-sixth.”
In his Washington office, Fizer leaned forward. “Why are the trannies using callers?”
“They’re coordinating a defense. In some cases, offense. Early this morning they probed our dispositions around U.N. Headquarters, but we mauled them badly before they fled.” Ruben paused, flashed his beam. “These two spots are the communication nexus. There, on a Hundred Tenth, and here, at Forty-second.”
We stared at the map.
Thorne asked, “That’s practically at your feet. Can’t you see them or take them out?”
“Yes, we can take them out, and we’re doing so. No, we can’t see them. They’re using the old abandoned subway tunnels.”
I gaped. “The Sub tribe is running this revolt?”
“So it seems. I authorized an attack on their northern comm center. Colonel Wirtz reported complete success with little resistance.”
Marion Leeson doodled. “If we persuade their delegate, can he still make contact to arrange surrender?”
“His previous calls were to their southern HQ. We’ve left it untouched for the moment.”
I said again, “Let’s have at the negotiator. We need this wrapped up with as few U.N. casualties as possible.”
“He’ll want to bargain. He raised the issue of water purif—”
Ms. Leeson snapped, “It’s been beyond that since the troops moved.”
“We never decided—”
“I speak for the SecGen.” Her voice was cold. “Bring in the trannie if you wish, but there’ll be no haggling. Especially after the Hacker attack on our finances.”
I said mildly, “The Supranationalists would prefer to negotiate. Any further damage to the city ...”
Rex Fizer looked as if he’d bitten into a bad apple. “Negotiations take time. Let’s get it over with before public reaction gets out of hand. The trannies are hurting us.”
I knew when a cause was lost. “Very well.”
Major Groves was sent to warn the trannie negotiator he wouldn’t be allowed to speak to the media. We waited with varying degrees of impatience while the mediamen filed in. They shouted urgent questions, which we did our best to field. While their holocamera lights flashed we all looked appropriately solemn.
General Ruben summoned the trannie delegate.
A pause. A groundswell of murmurs from the mediamen, then a barrage of shouted queries and demands. An old man shuffled past their holos, his ragged coat buttoned tight as if for protection. When his eyes crossed mine he nodded shortly—
I gaped. It was the old joey who’d flown to’ the Square with the Captain. The one who’d escorted us below to the Sub. Mr ... I searched, and like a good politician, came up with the name. Chang.
After the media left, the session was brutal.
We attacked the old man with scorn, with wheedling, with passionate argument, with the cold facts of the trannies’ inescapable defeat.
He sat like a stone.
Finally Marion Leeson raised a hand. She spoke slowly, with exaggerated diction. “Are we getting through? Do you understand a word of what we said?”
Chang stirred. “Yah, I unnerstan’. Ya figga ya won, so no need to talk ’bout my people dyin’ from lack a water. No need to offer trayfo, like ol’ red-hair suggest.”
Ruben bristled. “It was your idea. I only—”
“Why bother, since ya already own the worl’?” The old streeter leaned over, spat deliberately on the floor. Marion Leeson wrinkled her nose.
On the screen Rex Fizer rapped for attention. “That’s beside the point. Will you surrender now and save lives?”
“In return, water plant? Yes or no?”
All eyes turned to Marion. “The government,” she said, “will consider it. After.”
Chang regarded her with something like puzzlement. “Sleep at night, do ya? Feel good ’bout whatcha doin’?”
A muted buzz. I looked to the console, but the sound had come from Chang’s coat. He reached in, fished out a caller, keyed it on. “Can’ talk now,” he told it. “Meetin’.”
General Ruben held up a hand. “No, we’ll give you privacy. Tell them you’ll be a minute.” He whispered to an aide, who escorted Chang to another room.
The moment the door closed Ruben leaped for the console. “Now!”
I asked, “What’s going on?”
“We’ve been tracking his caller since last night. The joey he talked to used some kind of code our people couldn’t break. Listen.”
He keyed the console, and static filled the speakers.
A military voice, from outside the room. “The sender’s underground, that’s why the static, sir. We’re triangulating for a fix. You’ve got audio, but they can’t hear y
ou.”
“All right. Quiet.”
Heavy breathing, then Chang’s rheumy voice. “Yah?”
“Mr. Chang, this is Philip.” The boy’s tone was dull.
My jaw dropped. Quickly I glanced around, to see if the others realized who was speaking.
“Chaco, ya shouldn’—”
“They’re probably listening, so this is for their ears too. They gassed the sub tunnels from Ninety-sixth north. The trannies inside are dead. Thousands.”
“Oh God.” Chang panted for breath.
“Tell the authorities they killed Mr. Tenere. He ran downstairs trying to warn them. I saw his body.”
“Chaco—”
“My name’s Philip. I don’t care anymore. I’m on my way to see, uh, my friend. I don’t know if I’ll tell him. Mr. Tenere’s face was purple. I only noticed him because his clothing was so different from the tribesmen. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth and obscured his face.” The boy’s voice caught. “Objectively speaking, I’d say he died in agony.”
In our room, utter silence.
“Halb—your leader said to tell them, no surrender. Not ’til they kill every last Sub. And to tell them we aren’t done. That you’ll pay. All of you.”
A click. The connection was broken.
I sat staring at the console.
Devon was five hours away by suborbital. Perhaps I could excuse myself from this business, catch a heli to the shuttle-port. I had an inexplicable craving to visit Academy, to stroll once more its quiet tree-lined walks.
I made a sound.
Only when Marion glanced at me with alarm did I realize that tears were streaming down my cheeks.
Chapter 50
PEDRO
DUNNO HOW I ENDURED endless walk back to hateful conference room. Heart pounded fierce. For once in life, wished I wasn’t Neut full of words, jus’ reg trannie with shiv.
Wearily, I took chair again, looked around at faces. Uppie Boland was gone, but others same as before. Outside, in the distance, an ominous boom. Prolly more trannies dyin’.
On long trek after Peetee hung caller, I concluded there was nothin’ more I could do but play out game of death. Maybe, somehow, I’d earn us time.
Time was all we had left. An’ not much a that. I tried not to see accusin’ dead.
In conference room I grin at Uppie bitch, showin’ bad teeth. “You was sayin’?”
She said sweet, “I trust all is well?”
Ruben slammed palm on table, with crack that startled all. “We’ll have none of that.”
She didn’ blink. “You can be replaced, if you find your job distasteful.”
“As can you,” he snapped. “You think Mr. Kahn will sack me on your advice? Shall we see?”
Eyes met, and was hers that dropped. Holdin’ back ache, I waited, lissenin’ an’ learnin’.
Ruben turned to me. “Is there any point in talking further?”
I said only, “You heard?”
At least he didn’ try dissemble. A nod.
“Who do it?”
“A colonel at a Hundred Tenth came up with—no.” Slow, he squared his shoulders. “Wirtz asked my approval, and I gave it. I’m responsible. Your fighters were ... we thought they ...”
Woman Marion rapped table, a sharp sound. “That’s beside the point. What are you going to do with this old—this person?”
On screens, Fizer and Thorne watched with unwavering eyes.
Ya don’t have shiv, Pedro, or ya’d plunge it in arrogant General’s heart. Don’t have strength ta wrap fingers round his neck ’til he look like trannies lyin’ in Sub.
Don’ got nothin’ but words.
Think, Pedro. Anyone with buncha cansa c’n make good trayfo, but it takes a Neut ta tray with none. An’ not jus’ any Neut. Best traytaman that eva was, a foolish ol’ man who incited trannies to fight what can’t be fought.
I cleared throat. “I wonder how many towers ya gonna lose. Two already be past repairin’.”
“I beg your pardon?” Woman’s eyes were cold.
I took off coat, like prepared ta stay long while. “Good view here.” I gestured to window. “C’n watch alla smoke driftin’ past.” I lean forward. “Think trannie nations gonna lie down an’ do their dyin’ jus’ cause ya snap finger? Hundreds a thousands left, all ova city.” I hoped it was true. “An’ now they royal pissoff.”
“Don’t try to threaten—”
“Facts ain’ threats.” I glower. “Think they didn’ tell me with code words onna caller? Better be prepare, cause ya gonna lose—” I paused, mos’ly for drama, but also to think of somethin’, anythin’, they might believe.
Door burst open, and scornful Major rushed in. “Sir, the trannie bastards bombed the seawall!”
“They what?” Ruben was on his feet.
“A few minutes ago. That boom we heard ... they took out the seawall at Wall Street. The tide’s rising, and water’s pouring in!” He glared at me with unconcealed hate. “Two huge breaches, about fifty yards apart.”
I laced fingers together, offered smug smile.
“Look at that trannie son of a bitch—”
“Groves, full report!”
The major tore his eyes from mine. “All we have is a flash from Lower Broadway. Water’s gushing in, and they’re evacuating north.”
“Trannie soldiers in the area?”
“None seen.”
On screen, Admiral asked, “What damage?”
“Water’s rising, but not so fast people can’t get to high ground. The Fulton Towers basements are already flooding. God knows how we’ll plug the—”
Ernst Ruben snapped, “I want video from a heli, stat. No, by God, I’ll go for a look. Blanket the area with gunships; the trannies are somewhere near. Shoot on sight. And get me data. Meeting adjourned for an hour. Move!”
“Yes, sir!” Groves strode out, the General close behind.
I put on smile, for benefit of Uppie woman. To the men waitin’ on screen I said, “Tolya trannies were pissoff. Whatcha ’xpect?”
Fizer, the one they said was politician, shook head as if tired. “And to think I urged them to go easy.”
“Hah, think ya c’n swind Pedro Telamon Chang? Feh.” I restrained urge to spit. In trannie trayfo, would be good time for it, but now ...Make peace while ya can, Uppie. Our nex’ move be worse.” I forced rancor from tone. “All we want is water, fo’ Lor’ Chris’ sake. C’n ya imagine what it’s like not to know where drink comin’ from, forget ’bout bathe, no clean water for cook—”
Distant Admiral in screen stirred angrily. “We’ve been over that. There’s nothing we can do. And the seawall was the last straw. You people made your bed; now you’ll lie in it.”
I shrugged, wonderin’ what he talkin’ about.
Caller lights were flashin’ on consoles. Uppie Marion frowned.
While time passed, I argued for water, jus’ to keep some-thin’ going. Was desperate for them to make offer, any offer, that would allow end to rumb.
I didn’ get nowhere, of course. Wouldn’t, ’til General came back to advise.
Caller buzzed urgent. With a sigh woman answered. Joey’s face appeared on screen. Plump, harried, he held caller to mouth.
She listened. A hiss of breath. “My God, when? How bad? Just a second, let me key in Rex Fizer.” She searched console, stabbed at unfamiliar keys.
Man’s voice gabbled in speaker. “Hello? Marion, are you there?”
Hands fluttering, she gave up search. “Rex and Admiral Thorne are standing by. Repeat for them.”
“Word from London; the U.N. Treasury’s been hacked. They’re down and scrambled; indications are it’ll be a long while before they’re back on-line.”
“Those Goddamn trannies.” Fizer, his mouth tight.
“This morning the Treasury began selling gold at a fraction of what it’s worth; but as no reports reached their screens, the keepers just learned of it. As you know, trading is automated. By the time they p
ut a lid on, they’d already lost hundreds of millions.”
Marion asked, “Can you undo—”
“Christ, let me finish. Remember reading about the Hacker raid of ‘Thirty Two? Almost a hundred years of added safeguards, but they did it again. Millions of tax files are corrupted with false data.”
Door opened, and General strode in. The glance he threw me wasn’t friendly. “The lower city’s a mess. I’ve called in the Corps of Engineers but—”
Marion waved him silent. “Listen.”
Onscreen, pasty-face man wiped at gleaming forehead. “Do you know how to spell disaster? ‘Treasury’. Lord God knows how the Hackers got through security; the OS joeys swore there was no way anyone—” His caller rang, and he held up finger for woman to wait. He listened, and shoulders sagged.
When he keyed back to us, his voice held panic, like trannie trapped in doorway on hostile turf. “New York stocks are down fifteen hundred points. Sell orders outnumber buys five to one. The SecGen ordered the market closed.”
Who woulda thought silly Uppiekit have such power? Somethin’ glitch with how world is organize.
No time to reflect; my moment come. I rapped table, said loud, ‘Wow maybe ya lissen? How much more damage we gotta do? Negotiate. We reasonable.”
Door opened. My favorite major. “Sir, a call from the Rotunda.”
Ruben glanced my way, muttered a curse. “I’ll take it outside.”
Uppie Marion was jugglin’ three lines, speaking urgent into caller. Fizer spoke to someone offscreen. Only Thorne, Navy Admiral, sat stolid, waitin’ like me.
A coupla min later Ruben returned, three soldiers behind. They in full battle gear, guns ready. Behind them, a host of officers crowded in the doorway.
General snapped, “That was the SecGen.” To Marion, “You’re to call him, stat.” To me, “No more negotiations. No compromise.”
Sent chill down spine.
“Casualties on both sides are to be, ah, disregarded. The SecGen wants the solution to the problem.”
I swallowed. “Final solution, hah?”
“We believe the hacking originated here in New York. All fiber optics, all satnet connections to the city will be shut down for the duration. Groves, get on it.”
Voices of Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 5) Page 42
