"David Feintuch - Seafort 07 - Chilren of Hope" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feintuch David)

Chilren Of Hope
By David Feintuch

Jan 15 2008 Converted from .Lit to .Rtf using convertlit - Winterborn
To Don, who knew where I was going,
even when I didn’t.
David Feintuch may be reached at Writeman@cris.com,
and be sure to visit http://www.Nickseafort.com for announcements of new books, contests, and
other news.

PROLOGUE
“THE WITNESS WILL STAND.”
Wearily, I got to my feet, looked about the vaulting Cathedral.
Within my dark blue shirt, my shoulder throbbed unbearably. I was grateful; it gave me focus.
The three elderly judges wore black cassocks, not uniforms, else theirs might have been a
military court. Or a civilian one, for that matter. It made little difference in a society owned lock,
stock, and barrel by the frazzing Church.
“State your name.”
I said nothing.
“Young man, your situation is grave. Unless you cooperate . . .”
I shrugged, forgetting. Clenching my teeth, I rode a wave of pain.
The Lord’s Advocate rose from behind his ornate carved table before the dais. “Your Reverence,
may I?” He took the Bishop’s silence as permission. “Sirs, he’s stubborn and sullen, but no need
to badger him over trifles. We know his identity; what we want is his account of the night of
November 19, 2246. An account of murder, apostasy, treason.” He turned to me. “Randolph, I
charge you, speak!”
I pressed my lips tight.
“You try to protect him?”
They could ask ’til the Second Coming. I’d say not a word.
“Of course you do,” he answered himself, “and you imagine silence is your servant. If Their
Reverences order you to testify, will you? Surely you can tell us that.”
“No. I won’t.” My defiance brought infinite relief.
“You’ll be subjected to polygraph and drugs. The truth will out, joey.”
“You can’t use my P and D to convict others. Just me.”
“Under canon law, we can. Higher edicts apply.”
Perhaps this time I could thwart the drugs and polygraph. Or find a way to die. In my current state,
it ought not be hard.
The Advocate’s tone was gentle. “P and D is a misery, and for naught. We’ll learn what we must;
in trial for heresy we can allow no bar. Tell us.”
I cherished the fever that ate at my bones. I took deep breath, to speak words that would transport
me beyond deliverance. “Stick your trial up—”
His hand shot forth, palm raised. “If not for us, for Lord God. Speak.”
The somber Cathedral was a haze of red. I managed to shake my head.
“Very well. If Your Reverences permit?” He slipped a chip into his holovid, swung it to face me.
I squinted, punched in my private code, waited for the screen to clear.
“Randolph, I know what you face. What I face. I beg and order you, tell them what they would
know. Tell them freely.”
I stared at the unmistakable signature.
My voice was hoarse. “Where did you get this?”
“It came today.” The Advocate permitted himself a rueful grin. “By net.” He studied my eyes. “If not