Offspring (19 page)

Get a grip
, Ben admonished himself.
You’re angry at him for something that isn’t even a blip on the sensor screen.

The weird thing was that Ben
wanted
Kendi to help him. He wanted Kendi to present him with a solution, an instant remedy, and he wanted Kendi to do it without Ben having to ask for one. Ben sighed and banished the faceplate. He clearly didn’t know
what
he wanted. Except, maybe, for Padric Sufur’s head in a basin of bubbling lava.

Let it go,
he thought.
Being mad doesn’t do you any good. Padric Sufur is a thousand light-years away on his rich-boy estate, drinking champagne to the Despair. You can’t reach him and you can’t do anything to him. So just let it go
.

Ben took a deep breath and exhaled to push the anger out.

It didn’t work.

Finally he sat up, gathered his concentration, and let go of the Dream.

The best thing about science class, mused Matthew Secord, was that sometimes you got to run around outside and call it homework. He pointed his data pad at a passing glider lizard. It beeped once and Matthew checked the readout. Female. Two years old. Body temperature 45 degrees Celsius. Cool.

Around him, the talltrees soared up to impossible heights. Their rough brown trunks were so big, it took Matthew almost a minute to walk all the way around one. Now that he was thirteen, Mom was finally allowing him to descend to the forest floor on his own, and Matthew reveled in the new-found freedom. He had to admit that he had been a little nervous at first. The government didn’t have money these days—no one did—which meant they had cut back on the pheromone sprays that kept the more dangerous dinosaurs away from Treetown. But he hadn’t seen anything remotely resembling a carnosaur, and he had come to relax.

Relax. He wished Mom would learn to relax. She had been Silenced, of course, and that made it hard for her. Matthew had just started touching the Dream himself—having extremely realistic Dreams, hearing strange whispers, feeling like he was being watched—when the Despair struck. Dad had...well, Matthew didn’t like to think about that. Dad was gone now, and that was that. The Despair had Silenced both Mom and Matthew, and Matthew knew Mom worried about him. Losing Dad and being Silenced had almost crushed her, and she was afraid the same was happening to him. Well, Matthew was fine, just fine, and he didn’t need Mom hovering over him all the time, demanding hugs and weeping into his hair. It was relief to be down here in the forest, surrounded only by the dinosaur calls and birdsong and—

“Help! Help me!”

Matthew spun. The call had come from somewhere behind and to his left. It was also quite close. “Hello?” he shouted. “Where are you? What’s wrong?”

“Help me!”

Following the sound of the shout, Matthew skirted a talltree and clambered over an enormous fallen branch that was half as tall as he was. On the other side, Matthew found a dark-haired woman sitting on the ground.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Are you all right?”

“I think I twisted my ankle,” she gasped. “I can’t stand up. Can you help me?”

Feeling very grown-up, Matthew knelt and looked at the woman’s ankle without touching it. Then he took out his data pad and activated the basic first-aid scanner.

“It looks okay to me,” he said. “No major injury. Maybe we can—”

Something cold and hard thumped against the back of his neck. Matthew twisted around and stared up at a blond man holding a dermospray. The man didn’t say a word as Matthew Secord keeled over among the soft ferns.

“Politics is war without blood.”

—Irfan Qasad

Kendi threaded his way through the crowded gymnasium. The weak breeze admitted by the open windows did nothing to ease the heat or mute the din. Humans talked, Ched-Balaar clattered, and a sprinkling of other aliens added their own unique sounds to the din. Most of the people wore the gold medallions that designated a Child of Irfan. Signs of all kinds bobbed and floated overhead.
Save Us, Salman! Military, Not Mines! Reza Is Right! Keep the Forests, Lose the Mines! Irfan Loves Salman!

Kendi’s goal was the empty platform
cum
stage at the front of the gym, but the closer he got, the thicker the crowd became. The air was close and stuffy. A Ched-Balaar trod on his instep with a great, splayed foot. A woman’s elbow dug into his side. Every so often he shot a glance back at the main doors, where Lewa Tan stood with folded arms and stern face. She didn’t seem to be watching him—her gaze was always elsewhere. After speaking with Salman’s security detail, Tan had decreed the rally safe for Kendi, but that didn’t mean she relaxed her guard. Her presence felt both strange and comforting.

Kendi pulled his hood of his robe further down, the better to hide his face. He didn’t feel like playing celebrity tonight. Besides, it would detract from Grandma’s speech. Unfortunately, it also meant he couldn’t socialize without revealing his presence. Kendi never had been very good at keeping to himself, and he wished Ben had decided to come instead of begging off and staying home with one of Tan’s employees, a handsome, powerfully-built young man named Lars. Images flickered unbidden through Kendi’s mind. The feeds were full of pornographic games and sims related to bodyguards and their charges, and Kendi couldn’t keep from thinking about them. Ben and Lars. Lars and Ben. Kendi shook his head and gave a wry grin. Did all men think that way?

Probably.

The crowd was chanting Salman Reza’s name, with the Ched-Balaar tooth-talk playing percussion. Wanda Petrie ascended the platform to stand behind a podium. Holographic projectors mounted on the walls sprang to life, and a giant version of Petrie’s slim, impeccably-dressed form exploded into being behind her. The hologram’s head brushed the ceiling. A herd of reporters milled about just in front of the platform, recording devices at the ready.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you,” Petrie said, “Senator Salman Reza!”

Ear-splitting cheers erupted from all quarters. Salman Reza, resplendent in a deep purple robe, climbed the platform steps and took Petrie’s place behind the podium. A gold medallion glittered at her throat. Kendi had almost forgotten that Salman was still a Grandmother Adept among the Children, even though she had been Silenced. It occurred to him that Salman had never talked about losing her Silence. How did she cope with the stresses of entering politics while dealing with a crushing loss? Kendi found himself admiring her strength.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she boomed into the unseen microphone, and every voice fell still. “My fellow Children. It is good to be back home at our most blessed monastery.”

Still more cheering. Kendi looked over the crowd and saw a nondescript blond woman with blue eyes and blocky, unassuming features. Kendi’s eyebrows went up. Gretchen had never struck him as the sort to attend a political rally. He sidled closer to her. His first instinct was to send her a text message from his data pad so he wouldn’t have to talk, but he had left the pad at home.

“For the past two months I have been traveling all through Treetown, Othertown, and Rangeway, telling the folks about the facts of life. They have been interested and enthusiastic. And now they are
excited!
”

Cheers again. “Hey, Gretchen,” Kendi said above the noise. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Kendi?” She tried to peer under the hood. “Is that you in there? When did you start playing Father Incognito?”

“About the same time you started attending political rallies.”

“I have been working hard, but I am not tired,” Salman boomed. The giant hologram mirrored her gestures. “The welcome I have received everywhere has sustained me. The deep conviction that I am right in fighting for the people has carried me on.”

Gretchen shrugged. “I don’t have much else to do. It’s free entertainment, and there’s food.”

Sour guilt panged Kendi again. Wasn’t there anything he could do for her? Gretchen wouldn’t take money from him, would only get angry if he offered. But there had to be something he could do. Gretchen had saved his life a time or two, and he couldn’t just let her slide into the gutter.

A...have come back home to report to my fellow Treetowners. I bring good news ...”

Inspiration struck. “Need a job?” Kendi asked.

“Why?” Gretchen said warily. “I won’t take charity work, Kendi. Not even from you.”

“No charity,” he said. “You’d earn every freemark.”

Several people turned hard glares in their direction, clearly ordering them to be quiet for the speech. Kendi tapped his earpiece and said Gretchen’s name. When the call connected, they continued to speak sub-vocally. He wished again for his pad—it would have made voice communication unnecessary.

“See the woman over by the door?”
he said.

“Graying hair in a braid? Yeah.”

A...cracked the Populist north. Rangeway is going Unionist. So are parts of Othertown. The people, both human and Ched-Balaar...”

“She runs the security firm that’s guarding Ben and me—and Harenn, for that matter,”
Kendi said.
“Brand new contract, and I’ll bet she could use some help.”

“Guarding you would strain a platoon,”
Gretchen said, eyeing Tan with interest.
“You think she’d take me on?”

A...what the Foxglove and his Federalists stand for. They stand for separation of the species. They stand for isolationism. They stand for exploitation and pollution of our resources. Ched-Pirasku and his Populists whine and waver. They’re so busy trying to keep a balance that they forget why they’re in office ...”

“You’d come with my recommendation,”
Kendi said.
“That’s still worth something these days. It’ll tide you over until that game contract comes through.”

Gretchen wavered.
“I don’t know, Kendi. I don’t need you to find work for me, you know.”

“I owe you, Gretchen,”
Kendi countered.
“After all, you delayed signing the sim-game contract for me. This lets me pay you back.”

Brief pause.
“Yeah, all right. I’ll talk to her. “s a favor to you.”

“Thanks.”

A...my duty and my pleasure to announce my formal bid to run for governor of our fine planet.”

Kendi snapped to electric attention as cheers a hundred times louder than before thundered through the gymnasium. He hadn’t known Salman was going to announce her candidacy tonight. Why hadn’t she told him? Then he remembered the dust-up with Foxglove and he chewed the inside of one cheek. Petrie had probably insisted he be kept in the dark. At least now he knew why Petrie had wanted him to attend the rally. He joined in the applause and added a few ear-splitting finger whistles to the noise.

Ched-Balaar heads bobbed up and down on serpentine necks. Teeth clattered and excited hoots punched the air. Humans stamped their feet, clapped their hands, and whistled through their fingers. Reporters spoke to empty air, sending frantic stories back to the feeds. Salman stood at the podium with a modest smile, acknowledging the accolades with a nod. Several holographic signs changed to
Salman Reza—Our Next Governor
.

“Well,”
Gretchen sub-vocalized,
“you don’t see that every day.”

Salman held up her hands, but the audience took its time in quieting. A Ched-Balaar with reddish fur, meanwhile, joined her at the podium.

“I would also like to introduce my choice for running mate,” Salman said. “A fine person, well-qualified, skilled, and intelligent. May I present the next lieutenant governor of Bellerophon, Justice Ched-Mulaar.”

Ched-Mulaar thanked the audience for its applause, then withdrew so Salman could continue her speech. Salman’s voice boomed thick and powerful from the speakers, filling the gymnasium from floorboards to rafters.

“We need to look to the future, not live in the past,” she said. “In the past, Bellerophon was the victim of vicious pirates trying to kidnap and enslave the Silent. Without the protection of the Independence Confederation, Bellerophon is once again vulnerable to this threat. For our protection, I intend to increase military spending once I am in the governor’s mansion. Not only will this bring us security and safety, it will provide much-needed jobs in both the military and civilian sectors. Bellerophon has the power to be prosperous again—we just need to use it.”

The cheering began again, and most of the crowd tried to surge toward the platform. Kendi didn’t want to get caught in the morass, so he wormed toward the back with skill of long practice. Gretchen followed. Tan was only a few yards away. He met her eyes and was about to tap his earpiece to tell her about Gretchen when every light in the gymnasium went out, plunging the meeting into blackness.

A moment silence descended, followed by abrupt shouts and cries. Hard hands grabbed Kendi from behind. He started to fight back, but Tan’s familiar voice barked in his ear.

“Come on!” she shouted, and dragged him away before he could argue. The rally was rapidly dissolving into pandemonium. Shadows swarmed. Humans and Ched-Balaar stumbled around, trying to get their bearings and understand what was going on. Tan hauled Kendi to the perimeter of the crowd. By now his eyes were adjusting to the dim light and he was able to see her open a side door. She thrust him inside.