“And damn you, I’m sorry that’s so. What was he doing there?”
Her sharp speech was a comfort; it meant she knew I spoke from stress, that I was forgiven. With Mother, bluntness was itself a code.
“He was trying to warn the trannies. They—we—used poison gas to flush them out.”
“I feel for you, Robbie. Come home today, help me with these detestable roses. We’ll talk.”
I swallowed a lump. “I don’t think so. Thanks.”
“Weren’t you godfather to Adam’s son?”
“An unofficial uncle.”
“Really, the trannie tunnels weren’t his concern. The man should have known better.”
I stifled an urge to shatter the caller on the bedside stand. “Mother, did you hear? We pumped in poison gas. There’s hundreds dead, maybe more.” My tone was curious. “Don’t you care?”
“About your friend, yes.” She paused. “They’re censoring news of the insurrection, but I’m old enough to read between the lines. Besides, at your hospital I had a perfectly good view of the burning buildings.” Her tone sharpened. “A trannie rebellion is insufferable. You and Richard should have dealt with those joeys during Seafort’s administration, when you had the SecGen’s ear. Now Mr. Kahn’s taking care of it. He’s saving your father the trouble after the election.”
“Mother, we killed innocents. Women, joeykids ...”
“Regrettable, but not surprising. Except possibly to the trannies. That’s what happens in war, Robbie. It’s why we have world government, and why we’ve done a fairly good job of banning combat.”
“You approve of the gas, then?”
“I’ll ask Dr. Wilkes if I can handle liftoff. If so, I can arrange to bring you home in a few hours.”
“Do you?” It was almost a shout.
“Yes. Overall, I do. It’s bizarre to approve of some ways of killing your enemy, and deplore others.”
“Your enemy ...” I closed my eyes, pictured Adam sprawled in a filthy tunnel.
“Robbie, were you consulted?”
“Not about that.”
“Well, then. To the extent there’s blame, you’re absolved. You can’t bear another’s guilt.”
I whispered, “The Captain did.”
“Who? Seafort? He revels in contrition. He’s obsolete, a relic from when belief in the Reunification was dogma. Think of yourself, and Richard.”
I roused myself. “You still care about him?”
“I believe we had this conversation at your bedside. Remember, I’m planning on an invitation to formal tea. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mother.” I keyed off the caller, set it in its cradle.
“Mr. Assemblyman, the Admiral will see you now.” A lieutenant, his uniform starched and stiff, as befit a shoreside post. I followed him through bright-lit Earthport corridors to the installation I’d visited with Dad a few weeks past.
As if I were still a lieutenant reporting to a superior, I flicked my tie, adjusted my jacket. I smiled; Naval habits die hard. But now Jeff Thorne and Admiralty came hat in hand to our committees for their appropriations; I was perforce welcome whenever I chose to visit.
Nonetheless, I hoped the breath rinse I’d used was successful. I didn’t want Thorne thinking I’d retreated into a bottle, even if he wasn’t one to carry tales.
The Admiral grunted, his attention on the overhead screen. “Hello, Rob.” He squinted at a satellite recon holo of New York. His voice rose a trifle. “Let’s see the other.”
A new picture flashed.
“Very good.” To me, “See? You’re getting your money’s worth.” He flicked a laser pointer at the screen. “Those blocks, from Twenty-third through Thirtieth, already cleared. Urban renewal, courtesy of your Navy.”
I had a sudden suspicion, and moved close. “You’re drinking.”
“Nah. Martinis with lunch.” He waved it away. “To settle my stomach for the grind ahead. Ernst Ruben confirms coordinates, I set them up, he confirms fire results, we proceed. In a couple of days, it’ll be done.”
I hesitated, drew a deep breath. “Why do you need your stomach settled?”
“What business is it of yours?”
“None, really.” I took the plunge. “Except that I feel the same.”
“Do you, now.” An appraising glance. “How interesting.” He keyed a mike. “Continuous laser fire, throughout the marked grid.”
I glanced at the screen, but nothing changed. The view wasn’t real-time, though it could well have been. Technically, it was no problem. I wondered if using a still photograph was Thorne’s attempt to distance himself from his operations.
Morose, I took a chair. “I wish there was another way.”
“Please. I’ve had my fling with idealism.”
“When?”
“Long ago, and it almost cost me my career.” I recalled that he’d been assigned to Academy when the alien armada attacked. Though I’d been a cadet, I’d had no encounters with him, and he’d requested transfer soon after Captain Seafort resigned.
The speaker came to life. “Sir, General Ruben again.”
“Put him through.”
“Jeff, I confirm fire on Thirty-first at East River, moving west and north on both sides of the street.” Ruben sounded tired.
“Understood.”
“Is there any reason to keep confirming? They haven’t interfered since—”
“I won’t fire without personal confirmation.” Thorne’s tone was sharp. “They got us once, but, by God, they won’t do it again. What’s next?”
“The fools are still resisting. We’re about to go for their command. Nearly all caller traffic emanates from the Forty-second Street tunnels. Can you penetrate concrete that thick?”
Thorne’s fingers tightened on the edge of the console. “Yes.”
Ruben sighed. “Let’s get it done. Forty-first through Forty-third, from Eighth through Broadway. Bypass Seventh and Forty-first, of course; Franjee Tower is just south and would block your shot. And run a line of fire down the center of Forty-Second all the way to Lexington; the crosstown tunnel runs under the road. Coordinates follow.” He read off a long string of numbers.
Painstakingly, Thorne copied each, read it back, waited for verification. “Very well, Ernst.”
“Confirmed. Lord, I need sleep. One more thing. Be prepared for a visitor.”
“Who?”
“Believe it or not, former SecGen Seafort.”
“Christ.”
Ruben added, “Seafort’s been wandering midtown in a hopeless search for his son. A few hours ago he came back, hopping mad. God knows how he made it through the streets. He stormed through the building, made reservations on the fly, lifted off in a taxi for the shuttleport.”
I blurted, “What about Arlene?”
Thorne said, “Ernst, Rob Boland’s here. He asks what you know of Ms. Seafort.”
“She’s on her way to see me. She heard the trannies sent a negotiator, and wants to speak with him. I have the old man in isolation, but I’ll probably allow it. She won’t give up hope.”
I shook my head. P. T. was alive; or had been when he called Chang. But he was beyond the reach of his parents and in mortal peril. The sheer folly of running back into the streets ...I wondered what demon possessed the boy. I’d always seen Jared Tenere as the foolish one, Philip as more stable. Perhaps I’d been mistaken.
In the outer corridors, raised voices. A shout of frustration, the clatter of feet. Then, silence.
After his call from Ruben, Thorne sat musing. “Rob, I can’t refuse to see him. Not a former SecGen. But I want you here for support.”
“Are you out of your mind? Absolutely not.” I got to my feet. “He’s your problem, not mine.”
“Together we can—”
“No!” I made for the hatch.
“Let me make it clear.” Thorne’s tone had a bite. “If you care about your father’s campaign, you’ll be here when the SecGen shows. Else I’ll go
over to the Territorials, and tell Richard that you’re three sheets to the wind even now.”
“The hell I am!” I paused. “Jeff, there are reasons I don’t want to see him.”
“You think I’ve none myself?” He laughed bitterly. “He knew me as a boy, for God’s sake. And brought me back to Academy for those final days. You expect me to stand up to him unaided?”
It occurred to me that we both knew exactly what the Captain wanted of us, though neither had voiced it.
“What if you don’t see him ’til it’s over?”
“Then I’m a heel. It’s already hard enough to look at myself in the mirror.” A sour smile. “Even in politics, there are civilities. You simply don’t refuse to see a SecGen, past or present.”
“I know.” It was the sort of affront that left one vulnerable, ever after. Even the deadly game of politics had its rules. I sighed. “Ring me; I’ll be here.” I left to clean up and swig another mouthful of breath freshener.
In the anteroom I asked a duty lieutenant, “What was the commotion?”
“Bloody civilians.” He shook his head crossly. “There’s a dozen demonstrators in the corridor. One silly joeykid tried to push past to see the Admiral. ‘It’s terribly important,’ he shouted, as if I’d let him through. I had a middy haul him out to the main concourse; let him yell at joeys in the ticket lines. By the way, there’s a side passage, if you want to bypass the picketers.”
“No, that’s all right.” I smoothed my hair, put on a somber expression.
Chapter 55
PEDRO
A HAND ON SHOULDER shook me out of sleep I needed. “Let’s go, old man. They’re waiting.”
I sat up in bed, groggy. “Who?”
“Move.” Unie soldier, young an’ arrogant.
I made face. “Wan’ me to piss on floor, or in pants?”
With elaborate sigh of disgus’ he led me to gleaming Uppie cubicle, all tile an’ white light. When I done, I washed face to come alert, slipped on my coat. Dunno where they was takin’ me; didn’ want to risk losing. Only one I had, ’xcept for tray-fo stock.
After General had turned his back, they’d locked me in room on next flo’ lower. Had no windows. If I listened har’, could hear constant drone of helis, so I knew rumb wasn’t done. Now, I let them escort me back to elevate. I shuffled extra slow, for annoy.
Even with sometime dramatic stop for breath I didn’ really need, wasn’t long before I back to conference room I’d been in before, where P.T. called hisself Chaco. This time, two people waitin’.
One was my favorite U.N.A.F. officer. I quizzed self to recall name: Groves. “Ah,” I said. “Major Groans.”
“Groves.” His tone icy. He turned to Uppie woman. “Are you sure—”
“That’s the negotiator? Him?” Her body was tense, face haggard. I grinned inside. She in bad condition fo’ trayfo.
“Unfortunately.”
“I had no idea.” She studied my face. “Mr. Chang?”
I too mad for polite. “Mizz Fisherman.” Let her think I just a trannie stupe. Prolly true. ’Cause I worried about frazzin’ water lines, I started rumb that gonna ’xterminate all my trannies. If that ain’ stupe, what was?
She said to Groves, “If you don’t mind?” Gesture to door.
“Alone? Impossible; I’m responsible for your safety.”
Fisherman wife Arlene regarded him like roach in stewpot. “I beg your pardon? I’m responsible for my safety.”
“Mrs. Seafort, if you object to me I’ll call a trooper, but all trannies are regarded as armed and dangerous until—”
Her hand slammed on table. “Out, you bloody ass!” She stalked to door, held it open. “You think I’m in danger here? Shall I tell Ruben you countermanded his order?”
“Very well.” His tone stiff, he tried to retreat dignified. “I’ll post someone outside. Call if—”
“Good-bye.”
I said quick, before he disappear, “Have nice day, Lieutenan’ Groan.”
She shut door, faced me. “They say you’ll be charged with treason. Possibly, if you help me, I could testify—”
I spat big glob on table. It sat between us.
It stopped her, as I wanted.
Her fingers drummed table, her eyes bored into mine. Then, “Mr. Chang, I’m desperate for your help.” Abrupt, she jumped up, paced length of room. “And I’m not sure ...” She stopped, put hands on back of chair, leaned on it as if exhaust. Final, she faced me with resolve. “I don’t think I deserve it.”
Think she gonna swind Pedro Telamon Chang, appeal to his sympathy? Hah. My sympathy with my trannies, with Halber Sub, with resta tribes who die in streets.
“But P.T. deserves it.” Her eyes sought mine. “Nick’s gone to try to stop this horrid war, and he sounded ...” Allasudden, her eyes filled with tears.
I sat stony.
“Like he didn’t expect to come back. Nick’s abandoned Philip. I’m all our son has left. Please, help me find him.”
In trayfo, admission of weak was usually bad idea. Once in a while, clever move. Apparent, she thought so.
I said only, “Innifo?”
“What’s in it for you? What should I give?”
Aha. She lay hand on problem. What point in making trayfo, no goal left?
I say harsh, “Bring back trannie dead.”
“If only I could. And Adam. I’ll miss him so.” Weary, she pulled chair next to me, rested arms in lap, leaned forward, head near mine. “I need confession. Would you hear me?”
Reluctant, I muttered, “I ain’ no Uppie pries’.” For first’ time, felt afraid. Woman had unsettlin’ way about her, like Fisherman.
“All else has failed. Even if I damn my son, it’s time for truth.” Eyes shot up, found mine. “You see, I started it. I called SecGen Kahn, asked his help finding Philip. My son is so young, so trusting. When Jared ran off, P.T. decided it was his fault. He followed Jared to the hotel, searched the streets ... if he’d called, or explained ... we were frantic, Nick and I. Adam and Robbie Boland joined us when we traced the boys to the city.”
She paused, stared at table, at my glob of spit. “We were getting nowhere, and with each passing hour ... when I wanted to ask Kahn for help, Nick had a fit. But he went out again and half a day passed. Robbie and I talked it over ... it seemed a good idea.”
Hand flitted to her hair, back to her lap where it held other tight, as if prisoner. “I admit at the time I didn’t care what happened to your joeys. But I had no idea it would go so far.” Again her eyes came to mine. “Evil people never do, do they?”
I shrugged.
“And it’s gotten worse. How much have they told you?”
“Been locked in room. Blowin’ seawall was last I heard.” I cursed myself for stupe. Never tell what you don’ know. You glitch with old, Pedro.
“Your trann—your Hackers played hell with the markets, and broke enough codes to make the Navy fire on U.N.A.F. troops. SecGen Kahn decided he’d had enough. This morning the Naval base on Earthport Station began targeting laser cannon on the old city. They’re taking it down block by block.”
“Ahhh!” Sob escaped me. Furious with self, I put up hands.
“Mr. Chang, they want to clear the streets. I can’t get through to Kahn to stop it. I can’t undo the harm I’ve done. Neither can Nick.”
Silence, that went on long.
“You see? I’m honest with you.” She sounded drained. “But my son is a twelve-year-old child. Could you find compassion, after all we’ve done to you? At least for him?”
I said cruel, “Innifo?”
“I won’t insult you with money. There’s only one thing I can think of.”
I waited, hope mix with unease.
“Me.” Her mouth grim, but determine. “I caused your ruin. Do your people want revenge? If they have Philip, or can find him, tell me where to go. I’ll be there, unarmed, and give myself to your joeys. I only ask that I know Philip’s safe first. It can be by
caller; that part can be arranged.”
“Subs kill you.”
“I know.”
I forced self to think of lasers devourin’ city, an’ made voice hard. “Ya think Fisherman won’ come back. Who gonna raise joeykit without ya?”
Her eyes teared. “I hoped I would. He’ll need ...He’ll have a hard time. But at least he’ll be alive.”
“Not just kill ya. Skin ya live.”
“I’ve heard that.” In her eyes, fear, but still resolve. “Can you help us? Will you? Let me send for a caller.”
I fiddled in pocket, came out with pill, reached across for old water jug. Not fair. Uppiebitch shouldn’ strain ol’ man’s heart so.
I said, “P.T. was with Sub leader when he called here.”
“You’ll trade, then? Me for him?” Her tone pathetic eager.
“Can’t. He ain’t there no more. Went to look for Jared.”
She cried, “Jared isn’t worth it! Why can’t P.T. understand?”
I said gentle, “Cause he your son. Too much good in him.”
“Oh, Philip ...” She rocked, huggin’ self. “I need you so.”
“He hadda go through streets to find Jared, that much I certain. If he ain’t called ’gain, maybe too late.” Hated to say, but it time of truth.
Slowly, her composure dissolve. With a cry of despair, she threw herself on my shoulder.
After min, my hand stole out like got mind of its own. I stroked her hair, thinkin’ of trannie woman Neut made wife, long years past.
When she calmer I said, “Prollem is, even if you get me caller, Halber won’t tell me where Jared hid. Not now, when I been so many hours without callin’. He’ll figga I’m capture. Which true, more or less.”
She wiped eyes. “Why would Halber care? Jared’s a surly joeykid who thinks he’s too smart to work. Why bother hiding him?”
I cursed self for fool, an’ maybe traitor. “’Cause trannie Hacker who givin’ ya fits, joey who broke system, that be Jared.”
She searched my eyes for confirm, found it. “Lord in heaven.” For min she sit in silence. Then, “How can I find Jar?”
“He in a tower, but dunno which one. Halber never said, and I didn’ ask.”
“But if you call ...”
Voices of Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 5) Page 46
