Children of Hope (7 page)

Shit.

I sighed, knowing what I had to do. I tried my door; it was locked. “Please let me out.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home, to face the Bishop.” To ruin my life.

“Stay a moment.” His penetrating blue eyes regarded me with new wariness. “Very well, joey, you have my word. I don’t wish to harm your nephew.” After a moment, he pursed his fingers, like a spider on a mirror. “Why are you so suspicious?”

“You have some goal. Some—” I struggled for the word Anthony would use. “—agenda. Political games, I think. I hate the way Anth treats me, but we’re family. I won’t drag him into your games.”

“But you already have.” In his face, sympathy. “The Right Reverend Scanlen is furious, and demands your return. You embarrassed him in front of everyone who matters. He named you wayward today, in a rather stiff note to the authorities.”

Bile rose, and burned my throat. I swallowed convulsively. “Then I’ll turn myself in.”

“Ah, but the Stadholder doesn’t want you in Scanlen’s hands. He can’t say it aloud, but we know. If the Bishop gets you, he has Anthony.”

“Once the Church has me to punish, I’m no issue.”

“Except to your nephew.”

“Why, sir?”

“He values you. Once the Church has you on their training farm, he’ll agree to anything they demand. Because every day you’d face the strap, a solitary penitence cell, even a fatal accident in the night.”

“Why do
you
care?” I was unbearably rude.

“About you? You’re my son’s friend, but that doesn’t signify so much. Look at me, joey.” He waited. “Now, please. Into my eyes.”

“Yes, sir.” His tone was something like Dad’s when I’d irked him.

His gaze wasn’t unkind. “I’ll speak frankly, as you demand. We all wish you hadn’t provoked a cris—no, a situation. Anthony Carr has been in a delicate dance with the Church, as was your father, Derek. My friends and I prefer that he emerge independent. If you go home, you’ll destroy any chance of that.” A pause, and he plunged on. “You asked for honesty? Very well: our interests and his don’t coincide in all things. In some matters we will oppose the Stadholder with all means at our disposal. But this isn’t one of those matters; in that, you have my promise. So the doctor’s home is your refuge, if you wish. As is mine.”

I couldn’t help myself. A lump in my throat, I reached across and took the comfort of his hand.

“A
NOTHER SOFTIE?” KEVIN LOUNGED
on his bed. We’d walked home from Dakko & Son; when his father came home, we’d tell the kitchen micro to heat dinner.

“Nah.” I reddened. “Er, no thanks.” We might be friends, but I was his guest, sort of. Dad and Anth both had strong ideas on courtesy between guests and hosts, and I agreed. Even a narf like Bishop Scanlen deserved … for a moment I squirmed. Well, he’d insulted me first, and deserved what he got, even if it made more trouble than I’d intended.

But living in Kevin’s house, I couldn’t be rude. It wouldn’t be long, though, before I’d have to go to Dr Zayre. I sighed. No doubt she’d be kind, but Kev was near my age, and we’d become as close as we’d ever been.

“I better get my work done.” He swung to his puter, climbed onto the net, schussed into a series of his trig problems.

I watched, half interested. Then, “Ever look me up?” I tried to sound casual. If I’d been netted, his look-up would reveal it.

“What’s to see? Are you famous?” A derisive snort.

“No, but …” I grabbed at deception. “Dad put our family bios up, years ago. See if they’re still there.”

“I’m busy.” He was calculating a sine function. I’d have to read the problem to understand it, and I didn’t want to bother. His glance flickered my way. “Unless there’s some reason …?”

I tried not to betray my tension. I could tell Kev my worry, and of course he’d check me out on the nets. I needed, really needed to know.

On the other hand, it was in strictest confidence that Anth had told me he’d reinstated tracing. It was a sign of his trust. Explaining why I needed Kevin to schuss for me would betray Anth.

I sighed. “Nah, forget it.” I leaned back. Perhaps I could call Judy Winthrop. If her mother let her near a caller. I couldn’t escape another sigh. I’d gotten Judy in hot water with her family, and put Kev at risk just being around him. As for Anth, I didn’t even want to think of the difficulty I’d caused.

Perhaps I should spend my time with our enemies, and cause them the trouble I made for our friends.

Darkness had fallen, dinner was done. Kevin schussed the byte-bit slopes, his homework finished. Across the room, Mr Dakko browsed his holovid, his feet propped on a hassock.

Perhaps it was kindness, perhaps Mr Dakko had had a quiet word with his son. Whatever the cause, Kev had dropped what he was doing and explored the nets, with me as target. Without saying anything, he’d shown me the results.

I sat, chin in hands, brooding on what we’d found. Rather, what we hadn’t found.

There was no warning pasted across my net profile, no cross-ref to a missing child alert. Nothing.

It had me puzzled. At the very least, Anthony ought to have posted a please-notify. It would be only a nominal effort to find me, one I could easily avoid by not schussing in my regular tracks. But it would show token compliance with Church demands, and avoid trouble with the Bishop.

On the other hand, what would Anthony’s refusal to seek me out signify? He wasn’t obligated, either as Stadholder or parent-by-proxy, to stop me from visiting the city. On the other hand, if I was truly a wayward youth, then as a parent he was responsible for my depredations, and had the obligation to bring me under control.

On the other hand—we were running out of hands—my mother, Sandra, was my actual guardian. Ultimately, unless Anth asserted real control over me, he had no legal obligation either to make me behave or to hand me to the Church for spiritual correction. Yet, I doubted he’d resort to such a mealy-mouthed defense; he was raising me, and proud of it.

If only I could ask Anthony what he’d have me do. But I didn’t dare use the caller or post a netnote. Not only might he trace me and, worse, force me home, but his answer would close off options he might want preserved.

Kevin caught his breath. “Holy shit, look!”

I swung round, a chill lancing my spine. If Anth had—

“Kevin!”

“Dad, they’ve—”

“Kevin!”
Mr Dakko’s holovid tumbled to the floor.

“What did—oops. Sorry, sir.”

“Turn that off.”

“I didn’t mean to talk—”

He was out of his chair. “Switch it off. To your room.”

“Yessir.” Kev’s holovid went dark. To me, a helpless shrug. He padded toward his room.

“Just a moment.” His father’s tone was firm. “Do you recall the last time you used foul language?”

“Yes, sir.” Kev’s voice was small.

“What did I do?”

A glance of dismay. “Dad, Randy’s here.”

“What did I do?”

“You washed out my mouth.” Kevin’s face was crimson.

“Shall we do it again?”

“No, sir, I’ll watch myself. Honest.”

“Very well.”

Kevin disappeared.

The atmosphere was like ice. My closest friend had been humiliated before me, and I doubted I’d forgive.

After a time, Mr Dakko cleared his throat. “Believe me, I heard worse in the Navy.”

Politely, I smiled, hoping I wasn’t betraying Kev.

“And I used worse.” He bent to retrieve his holovid. “I told you I was on
Challenger
and
Hibernia
?”

“You didn’t mention the ships.” What had Kevin found that excited him so? I’d slip into his room and ask, before bed. Mr Dakko hadn’t forbidden it. And if it concerned me, I needed to know.

“With my father. I thought I was grown, and tried to act it.” A pause. “Like Kevin.”

I stared at the fabric of my chair.

“Walter—my father—didn’t do much to take me in hand, though Lord God knew I needed it. Slowly, in the derelict ship, civilization collapsed around us. Then Walter showed a steel I didn’t know was in him.”

What was he trying to tell me?

“I won’t make Kev wait that long. So I’m strict. Not unduly so.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.” I couldn’t help myself.

“Yours differs?” His tone was dry.

“It’s not like he meant to be rude. He was excited.”

“About what?”

“Who knows? You wouldn’t let him tell you.”

“Language counts, you know.”

“Yes, but …” I sighed. “It’s kinda dumb, my having an opinion. Look what my language started.”

A chuckle.

After a long silence, “Ask him to rejoin us, Randy. Tell him you successfully pleaded his case.”

Moments later, Kev cautiously seated himself near his father. It was the elder Dakko who got up, enveloped his son in a fierce embrace.

“So, then.” Mr Dakko rearranged himself on his sofa. “What was it you found?”

“A ship’s coming in!” Kevin’s eyes sparkled.

“Whoa.” Mr Dakko’s face relaxed into a grin. “When?”

“It’ll dock late tonight. Pa, can we go up and watch?”

“I doubt there’ll be room on the shuttle.” Of course there’d be one lifting off, crowded with customs and immigration officials, Naval brass and curious dignitaries anxious for a first look.

“You always say that. If you called Thurmon Branstead …”

“No, sorry.” A pause. “I have valuable connections, Kev. I don’t like using them for personal favors. When you run the business you’ll understand.”

“Yes, sir.” Kevin’s disappointment was evident. So was mine. Ships came in so seldom—rarely more than two a year. The ore and grain barges didn’t count.

“Its likely I can arrange a tour, though. After all, we’re chandlers to the Navy. Would you like that?”

“Megazark!”

“Did you notice what ship?”

“The new one.
Olympiad.
”

“Ahh.” Mr Dakko’s fingers drummed. “Good business there. She’s colossal. Three thousand passengers, eight hundred crew.”

I shook my head, trying to imagine a vessel that vast. “Could we go to the port for the zoo?” I really oughtn’t to be seen in public, but in an excited crowd …

“Yeah!” Kevin’s face lit.

After a moment Mr Dakko said, “Why not? People rarely make such fools of themselves.”

Years ago, when he was Stadholder, Dad had growled that disembarkation day was a zoo, and the term had stuck. Eager colonists and green sailors hit Centraltown for their first and probably only visit, and citizens came out to welcome them in force. The zoo made quite a show.

“And Dr Zayre will be expecting Randy, afterward. Just past dinner.”

My face fell. “Yes, sir.” Mr Dakko was strict, sometimes even harsh. Why had I come to view his abode as home?

Later, before bed, Kevin and I lounged in his room. Our conversation turned to the newly arrived ship, and his father’s stint in the Navy.

I asked, “Ever think of joining up?”

“Not for a minute.” Kev lay back on his bed, arms over his head.

I glanced away. Not so much older than I, he seemed much more grown. Not just his manner; even his physique was almost a man’s. “Why not? It’d get you out of here.”

“I don’t
want out.”
He thought a while. “Ships are for making money off, not for sailing.”

“Dad thought otherwise.” My dad, I meant.

“So does mine, even if he was never an officer.”

“Why not?”

Kevin shrugged. “Dad says he was too immature at the time. Then why does he look back on his service with such nostalgia? An awful life, being ordered around, packed like sardines, a year between shore leaves. Know what my life will be?” He rolled over. “I’ve got it figured out. University, then banking, then when Dad’s ready, I’ll take over the business.”

“What’s so exciting about that?”

“It’s the banking that’s exciting. Control enough money, and we’ll build our own ships.”

“That takes specialized yards, the fabricating plants for the fusion—”

“Exactly, and it’s how Earth holds us over a barrel. They deny us technology that would make us independent. You know, those Naval bastards even ripped the fusion drive out of that obsolete warship they sent to replace Orbit Station after Seafort nuked it? Just to make sure we couldn’t recommission it and have a working starship.”

I shrugged. It had been Dad’s dream for years to break Earth’s monopoly on shipping. “Someday, the government—”

“Not the government. Us!” His eyes sparkled. “Imagine a company so strong, it builds and runs its own starships!”

“Hope Nation doesn’t have the shipyards to build—”

“Not just us, Randy, all the senior colonies, working together. We’ll carry ores from Kall’s Planet, grain from Hope Nation, fabrics and fashions from Earth … all at prices we set. We’ll appoint our own Captains, set our own schedules. When we’re wealthy enough, they won’t be able to stop us.”

“We?”

“Dakko & Son. Dad’s dream turned a victualling house into the Nation’s leading merchants. Mine is to haul cargo to the stars!”

Bulging out of Kev’s nondescript old clothes, my shock of wavy hair thrust under a velcap, I was just another joeykid. Few would pay me heed.

The spaceport was teeming. Perhaps not by Terran standards, but certainly by ours. All the shops were open, immigration officials were checking inoculations, shuttles were landing every thirty minutes, and for once, the terminal restaurant had a long, restless line.

Kevin followed me, somewhat glumly. He burned with desire to see the new ship. No doubt his father could arrange it, but Kevin had been hoping somehow to see it on his own.

I peered about the terminal, but the real fun was outside. I thrust through knots of disoriented passengers, made my way into the bright sunshine, Kevin at my heels.

All around us, eager entrepreneurs had thrown up impromptu stalls of every description. Ship-pale tourists and colonists pored over colorful shirts hauled fresh from Centraltown warehouses. One caught my eye:
Hope Nation, Where Fish Were Found.
You’d have to be glitched to wear that. Apparently many of these joeys were.

Nearby, a shadeless stall offered hastily potted local weeds of no particular distinction. At the next table flourished a bizarre collection of so-called native handicrafts. Most were machine-carved softwoods, from trees cut from our plantations when new fields were cleared.