I shook head. “Jared be secret weapon, best they have. If I ask, Halber hang up. No way in worl’ he’d tell me.”
“Is there anything you can do—anything—that will help me find P.T.? My offer still stands.”
I said gruff, “I don’ wan’ your skin. Beside, if he alive, Peetee’s prolly with Jared. Even for venge, Halber won’ tell me where that is.”
For long while she regarded me. “I’ll do my best to have you freed. You came as a negotiator; they owe you that much. And if they try you, I’ll be your witness. I’ll hire lawyers, do what I can to save you.”
I smiled, wan. “Save ya coin. I gone soon anyhow.” Tap chest. “Too much excite nowadays. Can’ last.”
“I’ll help you get a transplant.”
“Don’ wan’ one.” How c’n I explain? Without trannies, why live? With who I gonna trayfo? “Don’ want one,” I repeated.
Chapter 56
PHILIP
I’D BEEN TO EARTHPORT TWICE, once with Fath, once with Mom too. The first trip aloft I barely remembered; I’d have been about three. The second time was four years ago, to attend Captain Edgar Tolliver’s retirement ceremony, in the Naval wing. He and Fath had shaken hands stiffly, as if there was something between them they didn’t care to speak of. Mr. Tolliver’s remarks had an acid tone, but they didn’t seem to bother Fath. Occasionally he smiled at hearing them.
Now, on the crowded shuttle, willing myself to relax at liftoff, I tried to deal with not seeing Fath again. It brought me too close to tears, so I let it be. I was near the end of my emotional rope, but I had only one more chore, and then nothing would matter.
Somehow, I’d have to get in to see Admiral Thorne, tell him it was all a mistake, that I’d made Jared crazy and brought the troops onto the streets by running away. Perhaps if I explained how upset I’d made Father ...I knew Fath liked Mr. Thorne, even though he told Mom the Admiral hadn’t lived up to his promise despite his career advancement.
I waited impatiently for the shuttle to dock.
In the Station’s huge concourse I found a clothing shop and spent almost the last of my money on a fresh outfit. I doubted I’d get in to see the Admiral looking like a tribesman; nobody would believe I was an Uppie. After washing and changing, I looked much more presentable.
The Naval wing wasn’t wholly isolated; reception areas were open to the public. To my surprise I found a small but loud demonstration in progress. The protesters didn’t look much like Uppies, but they certainly weren’t transpops. I doubted they’d paid their way to Earthport solely to carry pickets; they must be travelers with a conscience. Heartened, I presented myself at the desk, asked to see Admiral Thorne.
The lieutenant refused.
I demanded.
The officer raised an eyebrow, told me to lose myself. It was most likely a euphemism for what he really meant.
I’d been so sure I could make the Admiral listen, I hadn’t planned how to reach him. I was intensely frustrated. Time was wasting; my transpop friends were dying.
I knew Fath had called the authorities and circulated my name. If I identified myself properly, they’d arrest me instead of letting me see the Admiral.
If during the past last week I’d had sleep, enough food, less worry, I might have thought it through. Instead, I lost my temper. Watching me, Fath would have shaken his head sadly, Mom probably promised me a licking.
It got me ejected, kicking and biting, all the way back to the main concourse.
For a time I was frantic, then I settled into lethargy. Yet if I could do nothing to help, there was still expiation. Rousing myself, I began to make plans. A quick snack in a nearby restaurant, and I emerged with a serrated table knife. I wasn’t particularly brave, but it would do. A toilet cubicle would provide seclusion. I doubted they’d spot the blood until too late.
Tranquil now, I waited on a ticket line, borrowed paper and pen, thought about a note. Though contrition was between me and Lord God, He might be pleased if I made public confession. It might even ease Father’s mind to know I died in a state of grace.
I sat unnoticed, composing my letter. My writing grew more agitated. Despite my resolve, I was beginning to rev. I couldn’t understand why; I’d accepted responsibility for what I’d done and was ready to pay the price. It wasn’t fair that my body betray me. My fingers scratched at my knee. I began to rock.
Six point five times seventeen hundred ninety-three is ... I don’t know. Well, in base thirteen it would be—
And then I saw Fath.
He strode across the concourse toward the Naval wing.
It wasn’t I who lurched to his feet, legs unsteady. It was a stranger whose note fluttered to the deck. It was someone else who gave a sharp lonely cry, like a bird of despair.
I stumbled across the hallway, past vendors and stairwells, past weary travelers awaiting their shuttles. I moved slowly at first, then with desperate haste.
“Father!”
He turned. His face showed incredulity. Wonder. Joy.
I flew into his arms.
“Oh, dear God.” He hugged me as if to squeeze the very life from me.
I clung to him as to a life raft, leagues from haven. “I’m so sorry, it’s my fault, I can’t think what to do and they’re all dying, I tried so hard ...”
He rocked me slowly, arms enfolding me in the security and protection I craved. “Steady, son. It’s all right.” It was as a benediction from Lord God.
But he had to know the truth. “Father, I started a war!”
“No, son.” Slowly he released me, held me at arm’s length. “That burden isn’t yours. But you ran from me.”
“Yes, sir, I—”
He slapped me, very hard. I stood blinking, and began to cry.
A firm grip on my wrist, he strode to the Naval corridor. Numb, sobbing, I trotted behind.
In the reception area, a lieutenant gaped at Father, came to his feet. “You’re ...”
“Nicholas Seafort, the former Secretary-General. Take me to Admiral Thorne.” His tone brooked no refusal.
The officer’s eyes flicked to my wet cheeks, runny nose. “I’ll have to ask if ... just a moment, sir.”
Father planted me in a chair, his grip still locked around my wrist. “Make it fast.”
The caller had a privacy hood; I couldn’t hear what was said. It seemed to take a long time, and Father gave an exasperated sigh.
I squirmed. “Fath, I need to go to the toilet.”
“Hold it or go in your pants.” Father’s tone was curt. It brought on a new spate of tears, which he ignored. “I won’t let you loose.”
My wrist chafed, and I yearned to ask him to ease his grip, but didn’t dare. This was a Father I’d never known.
“Lieutenant, in two minutes I’m going in, with or without your permission.”
“Mr. SecGen, you can’t just—”
“Then call your guards. But I warn you, they’ll need to use force.”
“Please, sir.” The lieutenant grabbed the caller. I could imagine his quandary. Father was world famous, and still had a following. To have him arrested ...
A hatch slid open, and a sailor saluted. “This way, Mr. SecGen.”
Father pulled me from the chair.
“Sir, it’s a restricted area. Sorry, but the boy can’t ...”
“He goes where I go.” Father strode through the hatch, trailing me like a sagging balloon.
The sailor eyed me dubiously, then shrugged. He led us through a maze of corridors to a sealed hatch. He knocked. “Roylaff, sir, with Mr. SecGen Seafort.”
The hatch slid open. Father pulled me through, into a large console room lit with simulscreens. One showed docking bays, another a large map. Only two men were present. Admiral Thorne sat at a console. I recognized him from the holoscreen in Jared’s tower.
At his side was someone I never expected: Rob Boland. What was he doing here? I’d last seen him on the roof of the burning hotel with Mom and Father.
> Mr. Boland looked startled. “You found Philip. Thank heaven!”
Ignoring him, Fath eyed the Admiral. “Hello, Jeff.”
“Sir.” Mr. Thorne looked uncomfortable. “It’s really stretching a point to allow ... they’re retargeting lasers at the moment, but we’re rather busy ...”
“I can imagine.” Father’s tone was cold. “You don’t seem surprised. General Ruben warned you I was coming?”
“Yes, sir. But not why.”
“Ah.” Fath turned to Mr. Boland. “But you know.”
“I’m afraid so.” Mr. Boland seemed to have trouble meeting Father’s eye.
“I gather,” said Admiral Thorne, “you have a moral objection to what we’re doing. Unfortunately, our orders come directly from SecGen Kahn—”
“Fuck Kahn’s orders,” said Father. I gasped.
Silence.
Trying unobtrusively to slacken the pressure on my wrist, I marveled how I might live with someone so long, and not know him at all. Father was supposed to be fragile and moody; our role was to protect him. But he dominated the meeting in a manner I couldn’t have imagined, using language I couldn’t believe came from his mouth. Perhaps, if I downloaded more psychology texts ... No. When this was done, I faced a penal colony, if not worse.
The Admiral said smoothly, “That’s not possible, Mr. SecGen.”
“Jeff, using the lasers is absolutely, unequivocally wrong, and somewhere inside, you know it. Remember the joey you were, who wouldn’t pimp for the captains? Who urged me to aim for one more level in the Arcvid of life?”
Mr. Thorne flushed. “Yes, I followed you. We all did in those days, and it damn near destroyed my career. It’s taken years of hard work to recoup, to get where I am.”
“Hard work.” Father’s voice dripped contempt. “You wouldn’t want to waste it.”
“No, I would not.” Thorne, though red of face, met his gaze.
Mr. Boland cleared his throat. “Captain, I’d be the first to say the situation got out of hand. In fact I’ll say so, as will Dad when the investigations are held. But—”
“There are no buts. Civilians are dying, and the Navy’s killing them.”
“Rebels, who’re defying—”
“God damn it, Robbie!” Father’s eyes blazed. “You know better!”
Assemblyman Boland gulped, like a small child.
Fath spun a chair, sat me in it, planted himself behind, his hands on the shoulder-rest. “The streeters live like animals, but not by choice. I met them first when I had Challenger. Given a chance, they’ll learn, many of them. Eddie Boss. My wife, Annie ...”
Rubbing my wrist, I peered up. His eyes were distant.
“Annie tried so hard, came so far, before they hurt her ... He shook himself. “That’s neither here nor there. Robbie, you’ve been in the sub; tell him. Ragged joeys of all ages, women, children, desperate for food and water.”
“The worst stench you can imagine. Hatred. And everywhere, the dirt.” Boland’s voice was bleak. “The government’s policy is harsh but fundamentally sound. It’s a deadend culture, hopeless lives, rotting buildings collapsing into the street ...”
Father spoke as if he hadn’t heard. “Pedro Chang, with his treasure of books, his fierce dignity.”
Boland’s tone was placating. “Of course there are exceptions. But overall, they’re not worth saving.”
“That’s not your decision!”
The Admiral cleared his throat. “Mr. Seafort, I’m afraid it is.”
Father’s hands beat a tattoo on the chair. His voice was strained. “I know you’re moral people. You can’t carry out cold-blooded murder.”
Mr. Boland fidgeted, licked his lips.
“Robbie?”
“I’m not in charge, sir.”
“And if you were?”
“That’s not—I’d stop ... perhaps more negotiation ... I don’t know.” He took a deep breath. “Thank Lord God it’s not mine to say.”
“Jeff, I appeal to you.”
Mr. Thorne looked obstinate. “I’m sorry.”
“I beseech you.”
“Sir, please!” The cry seemed drawn from him. “Of course I know it’s wrong! But I’ve served the Navy thirty years, and I’ll obey orders. It’s not my place to usurp the authority of my lawful superiors.”
“Whose place is it?” Father’s gesture encompassed the console, the maps, the unseen lasers. “It’s you who’s making the killing possible. Stop. Give me time to save my friends.”
“Friends?” Mr. Boland sounded shocked. “They kidnapped Jared Tenere, tried to kill P.T.—”
“They did not!” I surged to my feet. “I went to look for—”
Father spun me around, slapped my face, rammed me back into the chair. I cradled my cheek, willed away the sting, tried not to snuffle.
“Yes, Halber of the Subs is a friend. As they all should have been, had I not closed my eyes so many years.” Fath raised his hands in a futile gesture. “At first I was ignorant, and that might be excused. But twenty years ago I searched the streets for Annie; then my eyes were opened. I still did nothing. At least I won’t repeat that folly now.”
Thorne sat, heavily. “Damn you.”
“Jeff, act. Take responsibility.”
When at last he spoke, Thorne could barely be heard. “I can’t.”
“Very well. Come along, son.” Father prodded me from my chair.
“Yes, sir.” Astounded, filled with pride, I did as bidden.
“Where will you go?” Admiral Thorne sounded reluctant.
“To find a ship.”
“Homeward?”
“Something like that.”
“Damn it, Nick!” Slowly, the Admiral got to his feet. “You can’t fool me; this is Jeff Thorne. Midshipman Thorne.”
“Yes, sir.” But Father’s smile was bleak. “My cadet days are long past.”
“Yes, we’ve aged.” Thorne came close, as Father waited. “I can’t face the grief, Nick. They’d crucify me.”
“I understand.” Fath sounded sad.
“But you never flinched. Tell me.”
Father paused at the door. “I don’t think so.”
“I could lock you in.”
“But you won’t.”
“No,” the Admiral said heavily. “I won’t.”
Mr. Boland stirred. “Jeff ...”
The Admiral said, “What, Rob? You’ll intervene? Take the responsibility?”
“I can’t. Dad would have a ... no, that’s not the reason.” Mr. Boland sounded forlorn. “I’m sorry I let you down, Mr. Seafort.”
Somehow, I knew he spoke of more than the laser cannon.
Father moved to the door, but the Admiral’s arm barred the way. “Tell me, Nick. I must hear it.”
“Will you interfere?”
A long pause. “No.”
“Swear it on your soul.”
“Before Lord God in his majesty, I do.”
“All I need is a shuttle, really. I’ll talk my way into the cockpit. They’ll be glad to show me around.”
“I assumed as much. It’s a capital crime.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t let that happen.”
I looked from one to the other, mystified.
“You gave your oath, Jeff.”
The speaker crackled. “Sir, General Ruben, with more coordinates.”
The Admiral said, “In a moment. Nick, take time to think it over.”
“I have no time.”
“A day or so, no more. You could stay in the hotel, walk a while ... or why don’t you take a cruise?”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“U.N.S. Galactic is leaving in an hour for the Jovian satellites. She’ll Fuse back to disembark sightseers before she sails to Vega. She’s a small ship, but quite comfortable, and it’s only three days. They’re booked up, but Captain Flores would be glad to have you.”
“Good-bye, Jeff.” Father pulled me to the door.
; “Nick!” Mr. Thorne gripped his arm. “Forget who I am now. Once, as a boy, you needed me. If I ever meant anything to you, get away from this madness and go on Captain Flores’s cruise. I beg you!”
Fath studied him a long while. He said quietly, “Are you sure?”
“More than I’ve ever been in my life!”
While Father thought, his hand tightened unbearably on my shoulder. At last, he said, “Very well.”
I couldn’t have so misread what I heard, but it seemed Father was serious about a Jovian cruise. Without luggage, with no money but his Terrex card and bare moments to make the gate, he hustled me toward the far bay where awaited the huge Naval starship.
Until now, Fath seemed so sure of purpose, I was reluctant to prod, but I was stunned that he’d abandoned the transpops so easily at Mr. Thorne’s urging. “Fath, what about Halber and Pook? The lasers are still burning—”
“That’s no longer your concern.”
I stopped short. “I’m sorry, sir, but it is. I know you’re about to hit me, but I’ve got to make you listen. Did you know Mr. Tenere is dead? And what about Chaco, all those people on the tracks—”
“I love you so.”
It stopped me short.
His eyes glistened. “Hurry, or we’ll miss the ship.”
“But, Fath—”
“I will hit you if you don’t start moving. Now!”
I let him guide me down the corridor. “It’s so important, but you’re ignoring me. Worse, you’re letting them down. Objectively speak—”
“I’m not ignoring you.” His voice was quiet. “I intended to ship you home. But now I won’t.”
All I could think to say was, “Why?”
“You’ve earned the right to see it through, wherever it leads us. May your mother forgive my soul.”
His hand moved to my shoulder, and it seemed more a gesture of love than guidance as he steered me to the waiting lock.
I peered out the porthole as Earthport Station slowly receded. “What happens now, Fath?”
Our welcome aboard Galactic had been perfunctory; the ship was due to cast off within minutes. Captain Flores sent his respects, and a promise to invite us to the bridge after breakaway. The purser told us cabin assignments would be rearranged to accommodate the former SecGen—the cruise had been filled for months—and settled us in the lounge with drinks and hors d’oeuvres. At last I had a chance to visit the head; it enabled me to sit more quietly.
Voices of Hope (The Seafort Saga Book 5) Page 47
