by Allen Steele
Cosenza stabbed his finger against the pad.
For a timeless moment, it appeared as if nothing was going to happen. Cosenza sagged back in his seat, letting out his breath even as he allowed the pad to fall from his grasp.
“Praise…” he whispered.
The rest was lost beneath an immense thump! as an explosion rocked the ship. Carlos heard the warbling shriek of the master alarm. On the screen, the image fuzzed and blurred. Another thump, harder, followed by a loud wham! as the oxygen tanks exploded.
The passengers screamed in terror as, several yards away, the immense rip appeared in the cabin fuselage. A cyclone tore through the compartment, tearing at loose objects and flinging them into space. Through the porthole, Carlos caught a glimpse of the starbridge hurtling toward them, the curving edge of its torus a vast silver wall.
He shut his eyes, took his last breath. His final living thought was of Wendy, and how beautiful she’d been the day he’d first met her.
The night was still, the city uncommonly quiet. It seemed to Wendy as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for a miracle that would never occur.
Pulling the curtains back in place, she moved away from the window, reluctantly returning to the suite on the second floor of the Federation consulate, where she’d spent her last night with her husband. Sometime during the morning—before she’d returned from the spaceport, before anyone had heard the awful news—someone from the housekeeping staff had come in here and made the bed: smoothing out the sheets, plumping the pillows, pulling the bedspread and comforter back in place. A thoughtful gesture, but one she wished hadn’t been made. It was the last bed she would ever share with Carlos; she would’ve preferred to have it left undisturbed.
She wasn’t alone. Melissa sat on the end of the bed, cuddling Inez in her arms as she quietly wept for…how many times had it been, for both women? Wendy had lost count, if she’d ever kept one in the first place. A staff member had brought mother and child to the guest suite shortly after they’d received word of the Lee’s destruction, and in hindsight Wendy realized that it was fortunate that Hawk’s family had decided to spend the night in New Brighton before returning to Midland. After the skiff lifted off, Wendy herself had briefly considered catching an airship back to New Florida—but changed her mind; there was some minor government business in New Brighton that required the attention of a former president, and since Carlos wasn’t available…
She let out her breath as a rattling sigh, laid a hand across the back of a wicker chair to steady herself. Government business. In the end, that was what had killed her husband. Not a boid, not his role as Rigil Kent during the Revolution, not any of the wilderness expeditions he’d participated in or led since his teenage years. A diplomatic mission, important yet hardly dangerous, that he shouldn’t have even undertaken in the first place. The irony was…
A soft knock at the door. Wendy glanced at Melissa, but the other woman—the other widow in the room, she reminded herself, although they barely knew each other—didn’t appear to notice. They’d already had quite a few visitors these last few hours. What was one more?
“Come in,” she said, surprised by how hoarse her voice had become.
The door slowly opened, and Tomas Conseco came in. Her aide had caught a gyro from Liberty as soon as he’d heard the news. “Wendy?” he said, for once addressing her by her first name. “Someone here to see you.” Seeing the look on her face, he quickly added, “I think you might like to talk to him.”
Wendy hesitated. For the first several hours after she’d learned of the Lee’s destruction, she’d had to deal with a seemingly endless progression of government officials, most of whom were strangers, each coming by to express condolences. They’d meant well, of course, but after a while she welcomed Tomas’s arrival, if only to have him run interference until the rest of her family made their way to New Brighton. But if her aide thought it was a person she ought to meet…
“All right,” she murmured, trying not to sigh. “Let him in.”
Tomas turned toward the open door, nodded to someone standing just outside. A moment later, a tall, dark-skinned man dressed in homespun clothing came in. Wendy had never seen him before, but he obviously knew who she was.
“Madam President?” he asked. “I’m…sorry to bother you at a time like this, but…”
“Go ahead.” She hoped that, whatever he had to say, he’d be quick about it. “And you are…?”
“Sawyer Lee.” He nervously shifted from one foot to another. “I’m a friend…I mean, I was a friend of your…”
“Yes, of course.” Wendy remembered his name from the letter Carlos had received from him. “Carlos and I were talking about you only this morning. Something about a…”
Quietly clearing his throat, Tomas lifted a finger. Seeing that her aide was trying to get her attention, she raised a hand to Sawyer. “Just a second,” she said, then looked at Tomas. “Yes?”
“Don’t mean to interrupt, ma’am, but…” For the first time, Wendy noticed the papers under his arm. “We’ve just received a preliminary report from the gatehouse. A little more information about the”—an uncertain pause—“the accident.”
Something in the way he chose his words made Wendy forget about her visitor. “What does it say?” she asked. Tomas pulled the pages from under his arm, but she shook her head. “Don’t read it to me, please. Just sum it up.”
Tomas reluctantly nodded. “There’s not a lot here that we haven’t heard already, but…well, two or three things you might want to know. First, the gatehouse is certain that there was an explosion aboard the Lee as it was entering the starbridge. They’ve reviewed remote imagery taken of the ship, and it appears that it came from the cargo bay, with a second explosion occurring just a few moments later from the oxygen tanks just below the passenger section.”
From the corner of her eye, Wendy saw Melissa look up from Inez. Sawyer’s mouth fell open in astonishment. “The cargo bay?” he asked. “So…you mean it wasn’t the engines?”
“No, it wasn’t.” Wendy traded a glance with Tomas, then turned toward him. “Mr. Lee…Sawyer…what I’m about to tell you is classified, or at least for the time being. So I’m going to have to ask you to…”
“Keep my mouth shut. Sure, of course. I…”
“We received an earlier report from the gatehouse,” Wendy went on. “A few minutes before the…well, we can’t really call it an accident…the gatehouse received a final text message from the ship, stating that they had reason to believe that there was a bomb aboard. Apparently it was brought on by a passenger, a Dominionist minister…”
Sawyer’s eyes went wide. “Oh, my god,” he whispered. “I saw…when I was at the spaceport…I was there to bring a friend of mine who was…” He quickly shook his head. “What I’m trying to say is, I saw a Dominionist preacher get out of a cab, and he was carrying a suitcase that looked…I mean, it seemed like it was too heavy for him to…”
“We’re going to want to hear more about that,” Wendy said impatiently, “but not just now.” Seeing the stricken expression on his face, she softened her tone. “You had a friend aboard the Lee?”
He nodded, and it was hard not to miss the tears at the corners of his eyes. “Yes…yes, I did. A lady by the name of Lynn Hu. She was a reporter. We were both on the ExEx with…”
“Carlos. Yes, I know.” Wendy forced a smile. “I met her once, last year, when she came to our house to interview me.” She hesitated. “I liked her. She was a good reporter. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Sawyer nodded, yet he appeared unable to speak. Wendy looked at Tomas again. “So we know for sure that it was a bomb. Any further word about the starbridge itself?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The papers rattled softly in his hands. “They confirm that it’s been destroyed. When the explosion…explosions, I mean…occurred, they had sufficient force to throw the Lee against the torus. So even if the ship had managed to survive the blasts thems
elves…well, the collision did the rest. There’s not much left of the ring…just a few pieces that were thrown clear before the rest was sucked into the wormhole when it collapsed.”
Feeling her legs grow weak, Wendy collapsed into the chair she’d been leaning against. There. That was it. With the starbridge destroyed, so was Coyote’s hyperspace link with Earth, not to mention Hjarr and the rest of the galaxy. They might eventually be able to rebuild it—its inventor, Jonas Whittaker, was living in semiretirement just outside Leeport—and the hjadd might be able to help as well, if they were willing to do so. Yet the fact remained that the starbridge had been assembled from materials brought from Earth by the Columbus. Replacing it, or at least anytime soon…
“So we’re cut off.” Appreciating for the first time that the tragedy extended beyond her own personal loss, Wendy suddenly felt numb. “Whatever happens next, we’re on our own.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tomas didn’t know quite what to say. “That seems to be…”
He stopped himself, and glanced at the report again. “One more item…something else the gatehouse noticed when they reviewed the images. Just after the first explosion…the one in the cargo bay, that is…but before the Lee collided with the starbridge, it appears as if something may have been ejected from the ship.”
He hesitated. “Madam President…Wendy…they think it may have been a lifeboat.”
Wendy felt her heart stop. “A lifeboat,” she repeated, her voice little more than a whisper. “Did it…did it get away?”
“They’re not sure. The explosion distorted the visual image, so they don’t know for certain whether it entered the wormhole before it collapsed. And before you ask”—he shook his head—“no, they don’t know who was aboard. It may have only been a misfire.” He shrugged. “I mean, it’s strange that there would only be one lifeboat, isn’t it? If the crew was attempting to evacuate the ship, wouldn’t there be more?”
Wendy knew that he was trying not to raise her hopes unjustifiably. She also realized that, even if a lifeboat had been jettisoned and it had managed to go through the wormhole before the starbridge was destroyed, they would never know who, if anyone, was aboard. And yet…
“Maybe someone got away.” Sawyer had found his voice again.
She slowly nodded. Perhaps there was hope after all. She could only pray that it was true.
“Thank you, Tomas.” Wendy found the strength to stand up again. “Is that all?” He nodded, and she turned to Sawyer once more. “Mr. Lee, thanks for stopping by. As I said, my husband mentioned you just this morning. Apparently he was quite impressed with you, so I appreciate the…”
“Yes, ma’am, but…” He paused, uncertain of what to say. “That’s not the reason why I’m here. Not all of it anyway.” Seeing that she was waiting for him to go on, he took a deep breath. “Some people I know, they were wondering…will you be able to attend the vigil?”
“Pardon me?” Wendy blinked. “Vigil? I haven’t heard of any…”
Again, Tomas cleared his throat. “I didn’t want to mention this to you, ma’am, but…yes, there’s to be a public memorial this evening. A vigil, as it were. In fact…”
He glanced at his watch, but Sawyer was already ahead of him. “Ma’am, it should be getting started just about now.” He took a couple of steps farther into the suite. “If you’ll permit me…?”
Not knowing what to expect, Wendy nodded. Sawyer walked over to the window where she’d been standing only a few minutes earlier. Pulling aside the curtains, he looked outside. A smile appeared on his face, then he stepped aside.
“There’s something here you may want to see,” he said, his voice low. “All of you, please.”
Wendy hesitated, then went to the window. Behind her, Melissa rose from the bed; carrying Inez in her arms, she followed, Tomas close behind. As they gazed through the window, Wendy felt something catch in her throat.
Outside the consulate, where there had once only been darkness, there was light. A river of candles, fish-oil lamps, flashlights, and makeshift torches, flowing in a magnificent procession through the streets of New Brighton. Each light was held by an individual hand, yet there were so many—tens, perhaps even hundreds of thousands—that they couldn’t have been carried by the city’s inhabitants alone.
The refugees were there as well, she suddenly realized. The fence surrounding the camp must have been removed, the city gate opened. Which was only appropriate. There was no longer any difference between those who’d been on Coyote before and those who’d recently fled Earth. They all belonged to this world now.
The procession moved through the streets, the lights growing brighter and more numerous as townspeople emerged from the tenements to join in the vigil. As Wendy watched, awestruck by the majesty of the moment, she heard a new sound. A word, a single word, that came first from one throat, and then another, and then another, gradually rising in volume until it became a solemn and reverent chant.
“Chaaz’maha…”
“Chaaz’maha…”
“Chaaz’maha…”
Sawyer Lee shook his head. “For someone who said he was only a teacher, this is…” Not knowing what else to say, he fell silent.
“He was only a teacher, yes.” When Melissa finally spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper. “But he’s more than that now. He has become God.”
Earth Events:
JULY 5, 2070—URSS Alabama departs from Earth for 47 Ursae Majoris and Coyote.
APRIL-DECEMBER 2096—United Republic of America falls. Treaty of Havana cedes control of North America to the Western Hemisphere Union.
JUNE 16, 2256—WHSS Seeking Glorious Destiny Among the Stars for Greater Good of Social Collectivism leaves Earth for Coyote.
JANUARY 4, 2258—WHSS Traveling Forth to Spread Social Collectivism to New Frontiers leaves Earth for Coyote.
DECEMBER 10, 2258—WHSS Long Journey to the Galaxy in the Spirit of Social Collectivism leaves Earth for Coyote.
AUGUST 23, 2259—WHSS Magnificent Voyage to the Stars in Search of Social Collectivism leaves Earth for Coyote.
MARCH 4, 2260—WHSS Spirit of Social Collectivism Carried to the Stars leaves Earth for Coyote.
AUGUST 2270-JULY 2279—The Savant Genocide; 35,000 on Earth killed; mass extermination of savants, with the survivors fleeing the inner solar system.
APRIL 2288—First sighting of Spindrift by telescope array on the lunar far-side.
JUNE 1, 2288—EASS Galileo leaves Earth for rendezvous with Spindrift; contact lost with Earth soon thereafter.
JANUARY 2291—EASS Galileo reaches Spindrift. First contact.
SEPTEMBER 18, 2291—EASS Columbus leaves for Coyote.
FEBRUARY 1, 2344—CFSS Robert E. Lee returns to Earth, transporting survivors of the Galileo expedition.
Coyote Events:
AUGUST 5, 2300—URSS Alabama arrives at 47 Ursae Majoris system.
SEPTEMBER 7, 2300 / URIEL 47, C.Y. 01—Colonists arrive on Coyote; later known as “First Landing Day.”
URIEL 52, C.Y. 02—First child born on Coyote: Susan Gunther Montero.
GABRIEL 18, C.Y. 03—WHSS Glorious Destiny arrives. Original colonists flee Liberty; Western Hemisphere Union occupation of Coyote begins.
AMBRIEL 32, C.Y. 03—WHSS New Frontiers arrives.
HAMALIEL 2, C.Y. 04—WHSS Long Journey arrives.
BARCHIEL 6, C.Y. 05—WHSS Magnificent Voyage arrives.
BARBIEL 30, C.Y. 05—Thompson’s Ferry Massacre; beginning of the Revolution.
GABRIEL 75, C.Y. 06—WHSS Spirit arrives.
ASMODEL 5, C.Y. 06—Liberty retaken by colonial rebels, Union forces evicted from Coyote; later known as “Liberation Day.”
HAMALIEL C.Y. 13—EASS Columbus arrives; construction of starbridge begins.
NOVEMBER 2340 / HANAEL C.Y. 13—Columbus shuttle EAS Isabella returns to Earth via Starbridge Coyote; United Nations recognition of Coyote Federation.
MURIEL 45, C.Y. 15—Galileo shuttle EA
S Maria Celeste returns to Coyote via alien starbridge.
ASMODEL 54, C.Y. 16—Hjadd cultural ambassador arrives on Coyote.
HAMALIEL 25, C.Y. 16—CFS Pride of Cucamonga departs for Rho Coronae Borealis via hjadd starbridge.
HAMALIEL 1, C.Y. 17—Exploratory Expedition departs Bridgeton for first circumnavigation of the Great Equatorial River.
I’d like to express my appreciation to my editor, Ginjer Buchanan, and my literary agent, Martha Millard, for their continued support; to Marvin Kaye, whose request for a story for his anthology Forbidden Planets turned out to be the springboard for a new round of Coyote novels; and to Rob Caswell, Lesley Ham, Dr. Horace “Ace” Marchant, Jack McDevitt, Bob and Sara Schwager, Bud Sparhawk, and Kevin Weller for advice and assistance during the writing of this novel.
The religious and philosophical arguments posed in this novel were, in large part, inspired by The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins and The Varieties of Scientific Experience by Carl Sagan. On a more tangible level, the design of the Ted LeMare is adapted from the New Alchemy Institute’s Margaret Mead, a hypothetical sailing ship described in “Ocean Arks” by John Todd (CoEvolution Quarterly, Fall 1979) and Bioshelters, Ocean Arks, City Farming: Ecology As the Basis of Design by Nancy Jack Todd and John Todd (Random House, 1984).
As always, my greatest thanks go to my wife, Linda, who encouraged me to return to Coyote.
August 2007-May 2008
Whately, Massachusetts
ALLEN STEELE was born in Nashville, Tennessee, and received his BA in Communications from New England College and a master’s degree in journalism from the University of Missouri. Before turning to science fiction, he worked as a staff writer for newspapers in Tennessee, Missouri, and Massachusetts, as well as Washington DC. He is a two-time winner of the Hugo Award in the novella category. He lives with his wife, Linda, in Whately, Massachusetts. Visit his website at www.coyoteseries.com.
