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

for us, if not for God Himself . . . then, for him?”
My cheeks were damp. I cared not. “Very well.” I would obey, of course. What choice had I, after
all we’d endured?
“That Tuesday in November, when you—”
“No.” I sought to make my voice firm. “From the beginning. It will take a while.” With a fumbling
hand, I poured ice water from the beaded pitcher.
PART ONE
September, in the Year of our Lord 2246
1
UNS P ARAGON BECKONED at the end of the corridor, its gaping lock mated to that of Orbit
Station.
The Stadholder of the Commonweal of Hope Nation paused at the hatchway. He gave me a fierce
hug, same as always. “Take care, son. Be good and I’ll bring you home an elephant.”
I broke into a silly grin. Even at nine, I knew it was impossible. Behind me, Mom laughed softly.
The smile faded from Derek Carr’s eyes. “You’ll be . . . Lord help us, almost eleven when I’m
home.” His eyes glistened. “Nearly grown.”
I swallowed, made a manful effort so he’d be proud. “Bye, Dad.” I stood tall.
“Always remember I love you, son.”
In another realm, a voice said, “Randy?” Insistent fingers prodded at my forearm. “They’ll be
leaving soon.”
“Go ’way.” I buried my head in the pillow, desperate to lose myself again in my dream.
“The ceremony won’t wait—”
I launched myself flailing from my bed.
Kevin Dakko fell back from my onslaught. “Easy, joey!”
I caught him a hard one in the temple. He squealed with pain, took deep breath, charged full at
me. In a moment we were rolling on the floor.
“Get off!” I bucked and heaved to dislodge Kevin’s weight from my chest, but he was fourteen, a
year older than I, and outweighed me by ten kilos.
“Not ’til you calm down.”
“Prong yourself, you frazzing—”
He raised a fist, but after a moment shook his head. “Nah. I like you, actually.”
“Then get off!”
“Lie still.”
Fuming, I did as he ordered.
Only when I was supine and passive did he roll off me. “What was that about?”
I mumbled, “I was dreaming.”
He smirked. “Judy Winthrop?”
“No, you goddamn—” I swallowed. I was furious, but there were limits. I really ought to curb my
foul language, but some recess of my mind enjoyed the discomfort it caused. Though, if Anthony
or any of the plantation staff heard me . . .
“What, then?”
I studied the thick, scarred planking. “Dad.”
“Aww, Randy.” For a moment, Kevin’s hand fell on my shoulder. Sullenly, I shrugged it off, but felt
better for it.
The dream came often, bittersweet and awful.
Mom and I had gone aloft to the Station, to see Dad off. The fastship Paragon would Fuse the
nineteen light-years to Earth in a mere nine months. Dad hated to go, but his personal touch was
needed for trade negotiations. Earth was Hope Nation’s principal grain market, and we’d been
battling for decades to reduce shipping rates in the teeth of the U.N. Navy’s monopoly.
And so, with a cheery wave, Derek Carr strode into the starship, and from my life. A year later,