Children of Hope (5 page)

“Kevin, sort through the closet in the green bedroom where I packed away your old things. They might fit.”

“Yes, sir.” Kev tugged me toward the door. “Thanks, Dad.”

“And show Randy where the shower is. We should all be clean for dinner.”

I blushed to the tips of my ears. “Thank you.” It was no more than a mumble.

On the way home, Kev took it easy on my tired feet. “That’s where the reservoir used to be, and the hospital. Back when the fish bombed us …”

I barely listened. It was ancient history, and I already knew. “Jeez, your dad is strict.”

“Yeah, well …” Kev strode a few more paces. “He claims he was a real heller when he was a joeykid, and he’s determined I won’t be.” He kicked a pebble. “He’s nice enough, I guess. But he embarrassed me, the way he was looking you over.”

“Hell, he had to decide. It’s his home.”

“Mine too,” Kev said.

“What did he mean about taking you in?”

“Last spring, before he put me in the farm program, we didn’t get along too good.” He reddened.

“What’s your grandfather think about it?”

“Huh?”

“Dakko & Son. If your dad’s the son …”

“Oh, Grandpa. He died last winter. The T.”

My breath hissed. “Melanoma T?”

“Yeah. Grandpa loved to travel, and he started interstellar late. The odds finally caught up with him. He was ninety.”

It was one of the drawbacks of sailing among the colonies. Fusion drives generated the N-waves that enabled our ships to bypass the speed of light. But the waves could be deadly. Every so often they mutated simple melanoma, which was curable, into melanoma T, which generally was not. That’s why the U.N. Navy recruited joeykids as young as thirteen to cadet Academy; if you were exposed within five years of puberty, the risk was much reduced. It was in a bunch of physics stuff I was supposed to take next year. Who cared? Only an idiot would want to be cooped in a ship a year at a time.

I said so.

Kev’s face tightened. “Don’t call Grandpa an idiot.”

Oops. “I didn’t mean that.”

“He was really cool.” We walked a while. Presently, the heel of his hand flicked past his eye, as if wiping away an itch.

I wished I hadn’t unsettled him. “Kev …” I stopped short. “If my being here stirs up trouble between you and your—”

“No, once Dad agreed, it’s all right. He’s just got this attitude …” A vague wave of the hand. “I do what I want most of the time, and don’t even have to let him know. But when he tells me to do something …” A glum shake of the head. “He says I’ll be raised better than he, and I have no choice in the matter. Grandpa thought it was funny.”

“What’s your mom like?”

“Who knows? She’s lived on Constantine for thirteen years.”

“How come you didn’t go?”

“She has my sister.”

It made no sense, but I kept quiet. Family arrangements weren’t to be pried into. It was gauche, whatever that meant. Or so Anthony warned me.

Kevin sighed. “Dad doesn’t believe in cloning. Says it plays hell with the gene pool.”

He’d opened the subject, so I was free to inquire. “You had a host mother?”

“No, they each wanted a joeykid, so they married. When they had two, they split.”

“Christ, that’s a breeding farm!”

Kevin said nothing. His pace increased, until I had to run to keep up. I grabbed his arm, but he threw me off. “Don’t hold me!”

I’d had a miserable day, after a worse night. “Yell at me, or hit me, or whatever you want. Just talk to me!”

“Cool jets.” Reluctantly, he slowed. “Joey, why do you say whatever comes to your mind, no matter who it hurts?”

“Because I’m stupid!” I spun away, fists clenched. He mustn’t see me on the ragged edge. He’d despise me.

“No, you’re not.” His mood had turned, and he was the gentle Kev I craved. For an instant, his hand flitted to my shoulder. “I bet you’re starved. Let’s get dinner ready.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“A shed isn’t a great place to sleep.” His tone made it an offering.

I essayed a smile. “Ever try it?”

“I camped out at Grandpa’s a couple of times, when Dad and I weren’t speaking.” At long last, we turned onto his block. “That ever happen to you?”

“No.” Dad and I always spoke. Derek Carr was the finest man who’d ever lived. I’d kill anyone who said otherwise.

Later, in the shower, for some reason a tear or two swirled down the drain along with the cool, refreshing soapy water.

In the morning, Kevin poked his head into my bedroom. “Dad’s gonna put you to work today.”

I blinked away sleep. “What about you?”

“School.”

“Can’t you do that later?”

“Not virtual, dummy. I gotta be there.”

I made a face. At my school, physical presence wasn’t always required; three days a week we just netted.

“Hey.” Kev’s tone was elaborately offhand. “Here.” He tossed a ten-Unie note on the bed.

“What’s that for?”

“Just because.” He shrugged. “Case you need lunch or something.”

“Kev, I can’t take your—”

“Then it’s a loan, ’til you’re settled.”

I said with wonder, realizing it was true, “You’re my best friend.”

In the doorway he hesitated, as if reluctant to leave. “You don’t mind helping Dad?”

“Course not.” Did he think I expected a free ride? I was no trannie; the Carrs paid their way. I’d see Kev was repaid too. Sooner than he thought. “Does your father want me now?”

“He’ll be leaving in a half hour.”

“I’ll be ready.” I bounded out of bed, grimaced at the clothing I had to don. The only pants of Kevins that fit me were shorts that emphasized my gangly legs. And the shirt was something only a really young joeykid would pick. I sighed. Next time you leave home, Randy, pack a suitcase.

“Ah, there you are.” Mr Dakko greeted me from the breakfast table.

“Good morning,” I said cheerfully.

His lips tightened.

Inwardly, I sighed. “Good morning,
sir.
” It was his house; if I wanted to live in it … Was I better off with Anthony? Odd, that I was willing to tender this stranger more courtesy than I’d show my own—

His steely eyes locked on mine. “Last night, what you most needed was a good meal and bed. Now we ought to talk.”

I nodded, apprehensive. He passed me oatmeal, cold boiled eggs, bread. I dug in.

“Kevin really likes you, joey. I’ve always felt…” A frown. “Walter didn’t always approve of my friends, but—”

“Walter?”

“My father. We settled here together, with my mother, Galena. She’s gone now. Walter didn’t care for Greg Attani, or some of the others …” For a moment, he bobbed in a sea of memories. “But he never interfered with my friendships.”

Is that all I was—his son’s friend he disapproved of?

Again, he read my mind. “Of course, I’d rather see Kev with you than some of the … well. You know. My point is, his friends are for him to select. So if he wants to help one of them, naturally I’m inclined. But you’re a special case.”

“Because my nephew is the Stadholder.” My tone was bitter.

“Of course.” His blue eyes seemed to penetrate my soul. “Why else? Now, we’re a small community and provincial, but firmly settled in the rule of law. Anthony Carr can’t seize my property or arrest me. However, I won’t make the head of government my enemy; he’d have too many small means to hurt me.”

“You’re sending me back.” I braced myself for the inevitable.

“Of course not!” He threw down his napkin, and his voice sharpened. “You think your precious planters are the only ones with honor? Didn’t I say you could stay?”

I found myself nodding hurriedly, wanting to do anything to seem agreeable. I was beginning to suspect that Mr Dakko didn’t suffer fools gladly, though I wasn’t sure what that meant. It was a phrase Dad had used, now and again.

“So, joeyboy. Tell me what’s going on between you two, and why.”

I wiped oatmeal from my lip. “Anth bullies me.”

“How?”

Haltingly, I explained. It wasn’t chores—we all had our work to do, and Dad and I had talked that out years ago. A Carr earned his keep. It was some of his other requirements, his insistence that—

Mr Dakko waved it away. “He talks to you about matters of state?”

“Sometimes.” It was all I intended to say. Kev’s father had no right to pry into—

“Why’d he have you provoke the Bishop?”

“What?” My voice shot into the upper registers. Blushing, I brought it down.

“That pantomime at his reception everyone’s talking about. What was the purpose?”

“Scanlen called me a—”

“What was the Stadholder’s strategy in arranging a public discourtesy? Either tell me, or leave my house.”

“I—he didn’t—but—” I stopped, drew deep breath. Then another, from sheer wonder. “You think Anthony put me up to it!”

“Of course. No joeykid would take it on himself to skirt excommunication, endure a training farm, risk his family’s properties over—” He took in my expression, and his jaw dropped. “Good Lord.” He leaned across the table, raised my chin. “Look me in the eye. Right now!”

I did, as long as I could manage.

At long last, a chuckle. “I’ll have to tell Benny and Dr Zayre we were wrong. We simply assumed …” He stood, thrust hands in pockets, strolled to the window. “Unbelievable.”

Mother would be home, in a chaise longue, curled in a warm sweater and reveries. Perhaps, if I woke her, she’d be in one of her gentler moods. “Mr Dakko?”

Nothing.

“Sir!”

Something in my tone caught his attention. He raised an eyebrow.

“What have I done? What’s the mess I made worse? Should I leave, so you and Kev won’t get hurt?”

He held up a placating palm. “No need to go.” His tone was kind. “Not yet.”

A strangled sound. To my horror, I realized I’d sobbed aloud. “I don’t know what I … I don’t understand. Tell me what’s going on.”

Again, a chuckle. “I’d intended to question
you.
” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Dry your eyes. It’s time to be off.”

I looked about. “I thought you were giving me work.”

A note of surprise. “Not here.” He ushered me to the door.

It was a crisp day, and he seemed in no hurry to drive to his office. We detoured through the spacious park, where a few young parents sat in the sun, watching their joeykids run about.

“Since your father got in that row with the Patriarchs …”

“Huh?” It would have annoyed Anthony no end. I tried again. “Excuse me?”

“A decade ago, during the third revolution.”

I tried to look like I was following, but my face betrayed me.

“Your father. Derek. When he took us independent, we—”

“Mr Dakko, I …” It was almost shameful to admit. “I don’t always pay attention when they tell me important stuff. Could you start at the beginning?”

“Hope Nation. Where we live. It was once a U.N. colony.”

It was how he might talk to a village idiot, but I’d asked for it. “In those days a colonial Governor ran our affairs. We had no real say. You studied this?”

“Yessir.” I was anxious to redeem myself. “Back in fifth.”

“We’ve since had three revolutions. First, the Triforth rebellion.”

“She was hanged.”

“By Nick Seafort’s own hand. She tried to seize the government as the U.N. Navy retreated from the fish.” The aliens had appeared suddenly among the fleet. They were shaped something like goldfish, infinitely larger. Some of them rivaled the smaller Naval vessels in size. Extensions would swirl from their skin, begin to rotate, separate, and hurl acid at a warship’s hull. Even worse were the outriders, shapechangers that emerged from the fish, launched themselves, melted through our hulls to spread virus and wreak havoc.

I said bitterly, “The frazzing cowards in the Navy ran for home.” And left us to the marauding aliens overhead.

“Mr Carr.” His tone was odd.

“Yes?”

“I served in the U.N. Navy. There was no cowardice.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“So I’ll ask you to retract that statement.”

“I do, sir. I’m very sorry I said it.” Sweat trickled under my arms. I sat quite still. Mr Dakko wasn’t overly muscled, not so tall. He was my friend’s father; the worst he’d do was toss me out of the electricar. And yet …

Eventually, Mr Dakko’s eyes softened. “Captain Seafort put down Laura Triforth’s uprising, and, as theater commander, granted us full U.N. membership. They say when he brought the news home, the General Assembly was aghast.”

“Yes, sir. But we had a right—”

“That was the second revolution. Who was our first Stadholder?”

“Zack Hopewell.” Everyone knew that. Alex still had a swelled head over it, though it occurred nearly forty years before he was born.

“And your father?”

My chest swelled. “The third.” He’d held office for many years, always reconfirmed by the Assembly.

“For decades, Hope Nation was a member of the U.N., much as Britain, or China, or the African Federation, back on Earth. Full voting rights, our own regional government and constitution.”

I waited him out. Please, not a history lecture, please—

“Your father saw we had to be more.”

He had my full attention.

“Twelve years ago, he notified the General Assembly we were pulling out.”

What had Dad said about it? Not much; I’d been so young. But later … “It’s time we stood on our own. And it’s the only way we’ll break their bloody shipping monopoly.”

“Under the constitution, we had to give three years’ notice.” Mr Dakko found a shady spot, pulled over, rolled down the windows. A few stately genera trees stood sentinel against the winds. “Time for the U.N. Government to make its case. Seafort’s administration was in power; he said he wouldn’t hold a colony by force.”

“At least he did
something
right.” My voice dripped scorn.

He ignored me. “The government did nothing, but the Patriarchs sent Bishop Andori to rein us in.”

The one who’d made Dad weep.

“Almost, he succeeded. They went eyeball to eyeball, he and Derek. But the independence vote carried, and we were independent. The third revolution. Now we trade with Earth as equals. At least in theory, that—”

“Anthony says they still try to bully—”