Coyote - A Novel of Interstellar Exploration Part 31

On the upper half of the screen is a schematic image of Coyote, with spots depicting the positions of the three s.p.a.cecraft orbiting around it: Alabama on one side of the planet, Plymouth and Glorious Destiny on the other. A real-time display of the positions of all three s.h.i.+ps. Glorious Destiny and Plymouth are nearly on top of one another, and both are almost directly above New Florida.

A dotted line leads from Liberty to Glorious Destiny. As Tony watches, it moves to track the Earth s.h.i.+pacross the sky. And now he sees the highlighted bar separating the upper and lower halves of the screen- ground telemetry link-and below it, several lines of script. From this distance, he can't make out the print, yet he can discern what looks like lat.i.tude and longitude numbers.

Tony feels a cold pulse at his temples. He's heard the standing order: no further radio contact with the Earth s.h.i.+p until Plymouth returns. Oh, Christ!

He couldn 't have... I "On the floor, Levin! Now!"

"I'm telling you, it's... I"

"Shut up and do what I say! On the deck!"

Chris throws himself to the floor, his hands still locked together on his head. Tony kicks aside the chair, keeps the gun barrel centered on his back. He reaches into his parka, pulls out the com unit, presses the pound key and the digit two, raises it to his ear.

"Chief, it's night watch. Tony. I'm at the grange, in the mayor's office. Get down here, we've got a problem." Tony looks again at the screen. "Better wake up Tom Shapiro, too. It's serious."

IJUHSS glorious destiny: Raphael, Gabriel 18 / The inner airlock hatch cycles open, revealing a compartment not much different from the ready room of the Alabama. Someone's waiting for them: six feet tall, wearing a long black cloak with a raised cowl, standing on what first appears to be the room's far wall until Lee reorients himself and sees that it's actually the floor.

"Welcome aboard." The voice has a slight electronic burr to it, but it's not until the figure raises a skeletal metal hand from beneath its cloak that Lee realizes it Belongs to a robot. Gla.s.s eyes the color of rubies peer at him from a skull-like face; it motions toward elastic foot restraints arranged along the floor. "We'll soon be rephasing the s.h.i.+p's local field," it continues. "The transition will be gradual, of course, but we don't wish you to be harmed in the meantime."

Now Lee recognizes the voice as same one they heard during the original radio transmission. "Thank you," he says, pus.h.i.+ng himself over to the nearest stirrups; behind him, Dana, Henry, and Wendy have floated into the compartment. "I take it your s.h.i.+p has... ah, artificial gravity of some sort."

"Artificial gravity?" Unexpectedly, dry laughter emerges from its mouth grill. "I suppose you could call it that. We refer to it as a Millis- Clement Field, but artificial gravity will do. We dephased it to facilitate docking procedures." The figure's other hand appears, holding a plastic bag. "Put these on, please.

You'll be subjected to a brief period of ultraviolet radiation, for purposes of decontamination."

Lee takes the bag, opens it, pulls out a pair of wraparound sungla.s.ses. Obviously meant to protect their eyes. "I a.s.sure you, we're not carrying any dangerous microorganisms."

"You're probably not. I apologize if you're offended. Merely a precaution." Again, the eerie laugh.

"Besides, it'll give us a chance to talk before you meet Matriarch Hernandez."

"No offense taken. We understand." Lee puts on the gla.s.ses, pa.s.ses the bag to Dana. She and the others have already fitted their feet into the stirrups; now it looks as if everyone is standing on the wall. "I'm Robert E. Lee, commanding officer of the...""Of course I recognize you, Captain Lee. I've thoroughly studied the Alabama incident... something of an interest of mine. It's quite an honor to meet you, sir." Its right hand comes up, palm open. "I'm Savant Manuel Castro... please, call me Manny."

Lee clasps the steel hand, finds its grasp remarkably gentle. "Pleased to meet you."

"Doesn't sound much like a 'hot," Wendy murmurs.

Manny's head makes an audible click as it turns in her direction. "What makes you think I'm a robot?"

Her eyes widen, but before she can say anything a loud gong reverberates through the compartment.

"That's the thirty-second warning," Manny says. "Everyone, please put on your gla.s.ses and make sure your feet are secure. There are handrails behind you if you need them. This won't last long, I promise."

The ceiling panels grow brighter, emitting a bright blue hue. Lee feels the soles of his shoes gradually settle against the floor. "You said..." Henry begins, then stops to grab the railing behind him. "You mean you're not a 'hot?"

"Strictly speaking, no. Old English terms for my condition would be android or perhaps cyborg, but even those are inadequate. Technically speaking, I'm a posthuman... a human intelligence transferred into a mechanistic form. A Savant. Until seventy-eight years ago, my body was flesh and blood, but then..." A pause. "Let's just say that I opted for a longer lifespan."

"Is... uh, everyone aboard s.h.i.+p like you?" An expression of horror on Dana's face.

"Forgive me. This must be a shock to you. No, not everyone aboard is mechanistic. In fact, only ten of us are Savants. The rest are baseline h.o.m.o sapiens, just like you, although most are still in biostasis. My fellow Savants and I remained awake during the voyage."

"Tell us about your s.h.i.+p, please," Lee says. "It's quite impressive."

"Thank you." Manny nods, an oddly human gesture. "We're quite proud of it. The full name is Seeking Glorious Destiny among the Stars for the Greater Good of Social Collectivism... Glorious Destiny, for short. It was constructed in lunar orbit by the Western Hemisphere Union, a federation of twenty-one provinces in North and South America formed in 2096 by the Treaty of Havana, and it was launched from lunar orbit on June 16, 2256."

"That's..." Dana mentally calculates. "Forty-eight years ago."

"Forty-eight years, nine months, two weeks, and three days, including the three weeks it took for the s.h.i.+p to accelerate to cruise velocity and three more weeks for deceleration. Of course, since we traveled here at 95 percent light-speed, according to the s.h.i.+p's internal clock it seems as if only fifteen years, six months, and three days, have gone by, which means that by our reckoning it's April 2, 2272... which means we've arrived about twenty-nine years before the Alabama. Makes sense, yes?"

Lee manages a wan smile. "We threw out the Gregorian calendar a long time ago. I take it your... ah, field... is what allowed you to achieve sublight velocity."

"The Millis-Clement Field is a manifestation of our diametric drive, yes," Manny replies, and Lee notes the smug look on Henry's face; his deduction turned out to be correct. "The Matriarch will give you a detailed synopsis of our means of propulsion, if you wish."

Lee feels heavier; the sensation of weight, denied while aboard Plymouth, is slowly returning to him. "I'm sorry if this is uncomfortable," Manny says."Sit down if it makes you feel better... you shouldn't need the foot restraints now. Captain Lee, I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting the rest of your party. Is it too late for introductions?"

"Not at all." Lee turns to the others. "This is Dana Monroe..."

"Ah, yes... Alabama's chief engineer. History records that you were one of those who instigated the takeover. A pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

If Dana is flattered, she keeps it to herself; she gives Manny a distrustful nod. "And this is Dr. Henry Johnson," Lee continues. "Astrophysicist, a civilian pa.s.senger..."

"I believe you were one of the so-called dissident intellectuals involved in the conspiracy. An honor to meet you, too, sir." Clearly pleased by the notoriety, Henry grins, takes a short bow.

"And finally, Wendy Gunther, a member of our colony's Town Council..."

"Wendy Gunther." A slight pause as Manny regards her with his strange eyes. "Oh, but of course... one of the children who was aboard. You're a bit older now."

"You could say that." Wendy has pulled out her pad, set it to voice- record mode; she scarcely glances up at him. "Last time I checked, I was 249 years old."

Again, the weird laugh. "I must say, you don't look a day over eighteen."

"Nineteen, actually, but who's counting?" Wendy smiles.

"A pleasure to meet you, particularly considering your father's role in the hijacking."

Oh my G.o.d, Lee thinks, he knows...

"What do you mean?" Wendy looks up sharply, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. "My father wasn't part of the conspiracy. He was a Party loyalist... a life-support engineer."

"You speak of him in past tense. I take it he's no longer alive."

"He was killed in an accident, just after Alabama arrived. What do you... ?"

The gong sounds again, interrupting her, as the ceiling resumes its normal appearance. "Transition completed," Manny says, slipping his feet from the stirrups.

"If you'll follow me, please, I'll take you to the Matriarch. She's anxious to meet you."

There's a haunted look in Wendy's eyes; Lee now knows that it was foolish to have brought her along.

He could easily order her to return to the Plymouth, but that would solve nothing. As she walks past him, following Manny toward a hatch on the other side of the compartment, she briefly meets his gaze, and in that moment he realizes she knows he's lied to her. Indeed, perhaps she's suspected it all along.

Nothing he can do about it now. All he can do is wait for her to discover the truth.

The pa.s.sageway down which Manny escorts them is wide enough for two people to walk abreast, yet it's strangely vacant, and silent save for the background hum of the s.h.i.+p. They pa.s.s closed doors marked with words in a language Lee doesn't recognize. Without explanation, the Savant leads them into a lift.

He utters a foreign word; the doors iris shut, and the cab begins to rise."Excuse me," Henry asks, "but what language are you using?"

"English." If Manny could smile, Lee could swear that he's doing so now. "Anglo, to use the proper term. English has changed quite a bit over the last two centuries. Only the Savants and a handful of the crew are fluent in the older form. You'll have to forgive the Matriarch when you meet her... she knows enough to get by, but it's still new to her. That's the reason I've been sent to greet you... besides being your guide, I'm also your translator."

"You just mentioned the crew," Lee says. "How many are aboard?"

Manny replies with something in Anglo. "Loosely translated," he adds, "it means, 'all good things in all good time.' "

Lee says nothing. At least the numerals on the control panel are Arabic; they boarded on level 8, and now it looks as if they're heading for 12. If they have to make an escape, this is useful information.

The lift opens, revealing darkness. Lee steps out, looks up... and finds Coyote hovering directly above him.

The effect is startling; it's as if he's standing outside the s.h.i.+p, with nothing separating him from the void.

Coyote fills the star-flecked black sky; through patches of clouds he can see the Great Equatorial River meandering past yet-unnamed islands, with Bear rising just beyond the horizon. For an instant it seems as if the walls have disappeared, until he looks down again and sees himself surrounded by tiered rings of varicolored lights: instrument consoles, arranged on two open decks, with the cowled forms of other Savants silhouetted before them.

"Our command center." Manny has quietly come up behind him. "We're in the bow. The view is projected by the ceiling... artificial, of course."

Lee stares up at the dome. The s.h.i.+p is somewhere above the eastern hemisphere; now he can make a dense, spiral-shaped cloud formation above the equator.

The winter storm is still moving eastward, churning its way toward the other side of the planet. The winds are probably already rising back in Liberty; they can't remain aboard Glorious Destiny much longer, or it'll soon be too dangerous for Plymouth to attempt a landing.

"Very impressive," he says, pretending a nonchalance he doesn't feel, "but our time is rather short. If you could take me to Matriarch Hernandez..."

"Captain Lee, I am here."

A woman emerges from the shadows, her hands folded together. Dressed in a gold-trimmed blue robe, her auburn hair cut close to her scalp, she seems to be middle-aged, her face plain yet her eyes sharp and piercing. She steps into the light, raises a hand palm outward, a formal salutation. "Matriarch Luisa Hernandez, I am," she says haltingly, her accent so thick it's difficult to understand her. "Meeting you...

pardon... it is a pleasure to meet you, Captain. No... an honor, instead. I have not... never I have..."

Frustrated, she shakes her head, then turns to Manny and says something in Anglo. "The Matriarch is embarra.s.sed by her lack of language skills," Manny says after a moment. "She's honored to meet someone who occupies such a heroic place in history. Indeed, were it not for the actions of you and your brave crew, the United Republic of America might have never fallen, and so this conversation would not be taking place."

"I don't understand." Lee looks back at the Matriarch. "What do you mean by that?"She speaks to Manny once more before she looks back at Lee. "Savant Castro explains better than can I," she says.

"The Matriarch has asked me to provide a brief historical summary," Manny says. "It's important that you know these things. When you stole the Alabama, it was the first of a chain of events that eventually led to the URA being toppled by domestic insurrection. A few months after you left, government news agencies officially reported that the s.h.i.+p had been destroyed... an act of sabotage perpetrated by a member of its crew. The fact that Eric Gunther's daughter is among us only further confirms that this was an untruth, that he was an operative placed aboard by the Internal Security Agency..."

"My father?" Wendy's voice is strangled, disbelieving. "I don't... are you saying my father was a saboteur?"

Manny says something in Anglo to the Matriarch. Her eyes grow wide; no longer stoical, she regards Wendy with astonishment. "This thing... you do not know?"

Lee turns, sees Wendy's confusion. "I couldn't tell you," he says quietly, taking a step toward her. "I'm sorry, but..."

"You knew?" She backs away. "You knew my... ?"

"Wendy, please listen to me. The government placed your father aboard the s.h.i.+p to blow it up in case it was hijacked. He never intended to carry out those orders... he brought you aboard, didn't he? I didn't know any of this until after we arrived, when he tried to kill me, because he was still loyal to the Party..."

"So it wasn't an accident." Now there's cold fury in her eyes. "You killed him... or had him killed."

"Wendy, no. That's not the way it was." Lee steps closer toward her; she starts to back away, but he grasps her arms. "There's more to this than they know," he says, his voice low, "but this isn't the time to..."

"So when were you going to tell me?" She stares back at him. "Or were you ever going to... ?"

"I'll tell you everything, but not now." Lee lets go of her. "Right now, I need you to stay calm and record everything that's being said. You told me you could do this... now I'm depending on it. Can you do that?

Please?"

Wendy doesn't respond, only looks down at the floor. After a moment, she nods. Dana moves closer, puts her arm around her shoulders, offering comfort to her. Without a word, Wendy raises her pad; her hand shakes as she makes notes with her stylus.

There's an uncomfortable silence within the command center. The Savants have turned to watch, their ruby eyes glittering in the darkness. Lee lets out his breath, turns back toward the Matriarch. "My apologies," he says. "This is... something she didn't know."

The Matriarch gives a sympathetic nod, says something in Anglo. Manny listens, looks at Lee. "Our fault for having brought up a matter that shouldn't have been discussed."

"Thank you." Lee straightens his shoulders. He still has a mission to perform. "You were saying... ?

About the insurrection..."

"Yes, of course. The government attempted to claim that Alabama was destroyed by sabotage three months after launch, but then the underground net provided evidence that it was hijacked from Highgate, with you yourself as the conspiracy's leader. When the government couldn't deny that any longer, itproduced one of the main conspirators, the former director of the Internal Security Agency..."

"Roland Shaw. Yes, he helped us get away." Lee remembers the last time he saw Shaw: he shook his hand at the launch pad just before he boarded the shuttle.

/ hope you find what you're looking for, he said. "What happened to him?"

"The government put him on trial for high treason. He was found guilty and publicly executed." Lee winces, and Manny hesitates before continuing. "It wasn't an empty death. The organization he helped build gained more converts, and the fact that the Alabama had been stolen demonstrated that the government was not as indomitable as it once seemed. Small groups of insurgents began making contact with one another, forming networks. Within months, there were acts of sabotage all across the Republic..."

"Remember the Alabama." There's a hint of a smile on the Matriarch's face as she raises her hands to form the thumbs, forefingers, and index ringers in an A shape.

"That was the sign of revolution," Manny explains. "It took nearly twenty-six years for it to gain sufficient strength to topple the government, yet in the end a mob stormed the capitol and placed President Roch.e.l.le under arrest..."

"Joseph Roch.e.l.le?" Lee raises an eyebrow. "My father-in-law became President?"

"No... Elise Roch.e.l.le, his daughter. Your former wife... she stopped using your name after you left.

Elected by Congress to a life term following..."

"Never mind why. What happened to her?"

"She was supposed to stand trial in Havana for crimes against humanity, but she took her own life before it got that far. She..."

"Crimes against humanity?" Lee stares at him in shock. "What sort of crimes?"

"The underground movement didn't act alone. It managed to gain a.s.sistance from outside the Republic.

New England, Canada, and Pacifica were the strongholds... arms were smuggled across the borders, government comps were cracked, fugitives taken into hiding. When President Roch.e.l.le became aware of that, she ordered bioweapons strikes against Boston, Seattle, and Montreal. Over eight hundred thousand people were killed by superflu in New England and Canada, and nearly three hundred thousand died in Pacifica."