by Allen Steele
As Jorge and Inez followed the crewman up a companionway from the gondola, then down a central passageway leading through the dirigible’s interior decks, the engines throbbed a little louder and a vibration passed through the airship. Without notice, the Monroe had lifted off again. The crewman came to a halt before a pocket door marked WARDROOM; he knocked twice, waited a moment, then slid open the door. “Please go in,” he said, stepping aside to let them pass. “You’re expected.”
The wardroom was a large compartment on the starboard side of the airship, with broad, louvered windows overlooking a polished faux-birch dinner table. The wardroom was vacant save for two individuals seated in armchairs at the far end of the table; they stood up as Jorge and Inez walked in, and Jorge was stunned to see that one of them was Sawyer Lee.
Middle-aged, with dark skin and close-cropped black hair becoming frosted with white, General Lee had been a constant presence in his life; because of that, Jorge had never felt intimidated by him, unlike other Corps officers. The other person was someone he’d never seen before: a woman wearing a dark brown robe, its hood pulled up around her head. In her midforties, by Gregorian reckoning, with a few strands of blond hair falling out from beneath the hood; her face was vaguely familiar, yet Jorge couldn’t quite place it. Nonetheless, her cloak was familiar: it was the kind worn by the Order of the Eye, an enigmatic collective who had established The Sanctuary, a remote settlement on Medsylvania devoted to the study of Sa’Tong.
This was more surprising. Members of the Order were seldom seen outside The Sanctuary, but their existence was known across Coyote. It was rumored that they possessed the original Sa’Tong-tas, the holy book given to the chaaz’maha, which was the basis for the Sa’Tong spiritual movement. It was also said that they could read people’s minds, and even though Jorge personally doubted this, unexpectedly finding himself in the company of one of them made him uneasy.
Jorge was about to say something when he heard a quiet gasp from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he found Inez staring at the woman standing beside General Lee, her mouth fallen open in obvious shock. For a moment, there was only silence, then the woman reached up to lower her hood.
“Hello, Inez,” she said quietly. “Good to see you again.”
Another second or two passed, then Inez let her bag fall to the floor. She said nothing, but instead rushed across the wardroom. As she fell into the older woman’s arms, Jorge realized that this was the first time he’d ever seen Inez express any unguarded emotions. Then she murmured the one word that explained everything:
“Mama.”
My God, he thought, that’s her mother. And then, another realization: She’s not from New Boston, is she? Not if her mother is from The Sanctuary…
Even as these thoughts crossed his mind, Inez’s mother raised her eyes from her daughter, and Jorge was startled to find her staring straight at him. A disapproving frown crossed her face, and he felt the hairs of the back of his neck begin to rise. Could she have…?
“You must be Jorge,” she said. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”
“I…I didn’t know she…”
Sawyer cleared his throat before Jorge could stumble through the rest of his reply. “By reputation, of course,” he murmured, stepping around the end of the table. “You should be used to that by now.”
Jorge felt his face grow warm; with stiff formality, he extended a hand to the Corps’ commanding officer. As if he needed any more reminders of who his parents and grandparents were; it was something he’d spent his entire life trying to deal with. “Welcome to Algonquin Base, sir,” he said, even though, from the corner of his eye, he could see through the windows that the Monroe had already left the camp far behind. “Sorry you couldn’t have stayed any…”
“Been here before, son. Don’t need to see it again.” Sawyer Lee briefly clasped his hand. “My apologies for showing up without warning, but I knew I wasn’t going to stay long, and I didn’t want anyone to know that I was coming.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.” Jorge glanced at Inez and her mother. “Your message said that this is classified. Is this why…?”
“It is, but…” Sawyer sighed, stepped back from him. “It’s rather complicated and involves matters about which you haven’t been informed.”
“You need to tell him.” Inez’s mother had let go of her daughter, and now Jorge was surprised to see that Inez’s face was as red as his own. “The time has come, I’m afraid, but he needs to know the truth.”
“The truth?” Jorge caught Inez’s eye, but only for a second; she quickly glanced away, as if reluctant to look at him. “What are you…?”
“Let’s take this a little at a time.” Sawyer raised a hand, beckoning everyone to be quiet. “In fact, maybe we shouldn’t do this when we’re all in the same room. Melissa, if you could take Inez to your cabin…”
“No.” For the first time since she’d come aboard, Inez seemed to assert herself. Moving away from her mother, she stared at Sawyer. “Sir, I’ve…forgive me, but I’ve picked up something from you. I’m not sure what it is, so you’re just going to have to say it out loud.” She hesitated. “This is about my father, isn’t it?”
“‘Picked up something’?” Jorge couldn’t help himself; he was becoming more confused by the minute. “Would someone please tell me what’s…?”
“Lieutenant, shut up.” Sawyer cast him a stern look. “I’ll get to you in a minute.” Then he turned to Inez again. “Corporal…Inez…yes, this is about your father.” He took a deep breath. “We have reason to believe that he’s still alive.”
Inez’s eyes widened, her mouth opening in a silent exclamation. She trembled, and for a moment it seemed as if her legs would give way beneath her. Melissa reached out to steady her, but instead she grabbed the back of the nearest chair. Inez took a deep breath; a furtive glance at the two senior officers, then she hastily ran the back of her hand across her face, wiping away tears that had appeared at the corners of her eyes.
“How do you know?” Her voice was low; she was plainly trying to keep her emotions under control. “Are you…are you sure?”
“To tell the truth…no, we’re not. But something has happened that…” Sawyer shook his head. “Perhaps your mother should talk to you in private while I have a word with Lieutenant Montero.”
“I think that would be best, yes.” Once again, Melissa gave Jorge a discomfiting look, as if she knew things that he’d rather keep secret. “Come along, dear,” she said softly, putting an arm around Inez’s shoulders. “Let’s go to our cabin.”
Still wiping tears from her face, Inez nodded, then allowed her mother to lead her from the wardroom. As they walked past, Jorge remembered the duffel bag Inez had dropped. He picked it up and handed it to her. Inez took it from him, and for an instant their eyes made contact, yet there was something in her expression that he couldn’t read. Then the two women left the compartment, closing the door behind them.
Sawyer Lee waited until they were gone before he spoke again. “Have a seat, Jorge,” he said, patting the armrest of a chair as he turned toward the nearby galley. “There’s some coffee in the urn, but it may be a few hours old…and I think there may be some bearshine stashed away somewhere.”
It was a little early in the day for corn liquor, but Jorge noticed that Sawyer ignored the urn and instead was opening an overhead cabinet. “If you’re drinking, sir…”
“Yes, I am, and I think we’re going to need something stiffer than coffee.” Sawyer located a small ceramic jug; pulling it down from the cabinet, he fetched a couple of water glasses from beneath the counter. “And knock off the ‘sir’ routine, all right? It’s just the two of us now, and I’m putting rank on hold for the time being.”
Jorge nodded. He had known Sawyer Lee since he was six Earth-years old, when the two of them had shared a cabin aboard the Ted LeMare during the First Exploratory Expedition. Jorge’s parents and grandfather had led the ExEx, and Sawyer had been hired
as a wilderness guide by Morgan Goldstein, the late founder of Janus Ltd., who had been the expedition’s principal backer. The friendship between the hunter and the shy young boy Jorge had once been nearly ended when Jorge accidentally fired Sawyer’s rifle in their cabin. This was Jorge’s first brush with death, and his mother had retaliated by having Sawyer thrown off the expedition. In the years that followed, though, Sawyer had renewed his relationship with Jorge, eventually becoming his mentor after Jorge grew up to join the Corps of Exploration. Indeed, since the Corps had been brainstormed by Sawyer and Carlos Montero during their return from the ExEx—legend had it that the two men first discussed the Corps after crash-landing on Vulcan during a hurricane—it only made sense that the grandson of Coyote’s most famous explorer would be taken under the wing of the Corps’ founder and commanding officer.
So while the two men observed the priorities of rank while in public, when they were alone their respective insignia were ignored more often than not. Yet Jorge couldn’t help but notice a certain reticence on Sawyer’s part as he poured a couple of fingers of bearshine into each of their glasses. It was as if Sawyer, despite the many years he’d known Jorge, was having trouble expressing his thoughts.
“Jorge”—Sawyer hesitated, then let out his breath—“you know that I’ve always been candid with you, or at least about most things. And I think you’ve usually been honest with me.”
“About most things, yes.” Jorge hated to lie to him, but there were certain matters he’d never discussed with Sawyer, not the least of which was his growing reluctance to remain in the Corps.
Sawyer nodded as he walked over to the table and placed a drink in front of Jorge. “So you’re going to have to trust me when I tell you that, even though there’s one thing…well, maybe two…that I’ve always kept from you, it’s only because I’d been sworn to secrecy about it, and so I couldn’t tell anyone. Not you, not Jon or Susan, not the rest of the Corps…no one.”
Jorge didn’t pick up his drink. He could understand him not confiding in his mother—Susan Montero actively despised Sawyer Lee even though he was carrying out her father’s legacy—but his father, Colonel Jon Parson, was Sawyer’s chief of staff, and therefore the person Sawyer was supposed to trust the most. Jorge didn’t say anything, though; instead, he toyed with the rim of the glass and let Sawyer go on.
“Let me ask you something,” Sawyer said as he walked around the table to take a seat in front of the windows. “How do you feel about Inez?”
Jorge felt a chill. Of all the questions Sawyer could have asked him, this was the one he least expected. “She’s…a very good Corpsman, sir.” Sawyer’s eyes narrowed at the uninvited formality, and Jorge realized that he’d inadvertently displayed his nervousness. “She’s a capable explorer,” he added. “Learns quickly and well. Has the makings of a senior officer…”
“Good to know, but that’s not what I mean.” Sawyer hesitated, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. “I’ve heard scuttlebutt…not formal reports, mind you, but just hearsay…that you’re…well, rather affectionate toward her. That you’ve been spending a lot of time with her since she was assigned to your company. Is this true?”
Jorge fixed his gaze upon the glass. He knew his face must be turning red, but there was nothing he could do about it. Sawyer was staring straight at him; if he lied, the old man would pick up on it in a heartbeat. “I like her, yes. Corporal Torres is a…well, she’s very attractive. But I’ve been careful not to let my feelings get the better of me.” He hesitated. “I’ve certainly never touched her, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Sawyer slowly nodded, but didn’t respond at once. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” he said after a moment. “And although I’m disturbed to hear that you’re attracted to her, at least you’ve kept her at arm’s length. That’s going to make the rest of this…well, maybe a little easier for both of us.”
Jorge looked up at him. “I don’t understand. What does my relationship with Corporal Torres have to do with…?”
“First, her last name isn’t Torres. Or at least that’s not the name she was born with. It’s really Sanchez…Inez Sanchez. And as you’ve probably surmised by now, she isn’t really from New Boston, but from The Sanctuary.” He cocked his head toward the door. “Her mother came in from Medsylvania when we received the news about her father, and this is the first time the two of them have seen each other since she joined the Corps…against her mother’s wishes, I might add, although that’s another matter entirely.”
“Melissa Sanchez.” Something tugged at Jorge’s memory. “I’ve heard the name before, but I can’t quite place it.”
“Haven’t converted to Sa’Tong, have you?” Sawyer swirled the liquor around in his glass, sniffed it as if it were fine wine. “Neither have I. But if you had, you’d recognize the name at once. Melissa Sanchez was the chaaz’maha’s partner…his common-law wife, really.”
Jorge stared at him; it took several seconds for the knowledge to sink in. Sawyer waited patiently, a soft smile upon his face as he sipped his bearshine. “Oh, my god,” he murmured at last. “You’re telling me that Inez is…?”
“Uh-huh. Inez Torres is really Inez Sanchez, and she’s the daughter of the chaaz’maha.”
Jorge sank back in his seat, stunned by what he’d just heard. In the six and a third Coyote years that had passed since the destruction of the Robert E. Lee, the chaaz’maha had become a martyr. Even though Sa’Tong wasn’t a religion, he had become revered as a spiritual leader struck down in the prime of his life; in many ways, the story of his life and death had helped spread Sa’Tong across the new world, with countless inhabitants reading the Sa’Tong-tas and ultimately deciding to adopt it as their own philosophy. There were now more Sa’Tong schools on Coyote than there were churches or temples of traditional Earth religions; although priests and ministers of the older faiths initially distrusted or resented the introduction of the alien creed, they’d gradually come to realize Sa’Tong made allowances for other religions. Besides, speaking out against Sa’Tong was not in their best interests; after all, it had been a fanatical deacon from the Church of the Holy Dominion who’d smuggled a bomb aboard the Lee, and thus was responsible for the greatest disaster in recent Coyote history.
“But…the chaaz’maha is dead.” Sitting up straight again, Jorge stared at Sawyer. “He was on the Lee, same as my grandfather. No one survived that.”
“It’s always been assumed that he was still aboard the Lee when it was destroyed, yes.” Sawyer swiveled his chair around to gaze out the wardroom windows; the clouds had broken, allowing them to watch the frozen expanse of the North Sea as it passed beneath the airship. “Remember, though…just after the explosion, before the Lee collided with the starbridge, something was jettisoned from the ship. No one has ever been sure, but it’s been thought that it might have been a lifeboat.”
Jorge nodded. Like everyone else on Coyote, he’d seen the vid of the disaster, taken by a camera aboard the nearby gatehouse. Enhanced images of a few frames showed something that looked like a lifeboat being ejected from the doomed starship during the last seconds before the Lee slammed into the ring, destroying both the vessel and the starbridge. The meaning of these precious few images had been widely debated ever since, but even though a few eager Sa’Tongians persisted in believing that the chaaz’maha had somehow escaped, most assumed that even if the object was, in fact, a lifeboat, it was probably jettisoned by accident, with no one aboard. After all, the last radio message sent from the Lee had given no indication that the ship was being evacuated, or that any effort had been made to send the chaaz’maha to safety.
“I always thought that was…y’know, wishful thinking.” Jorge shook his head. “You’re telling me it isn’t? The chaaz’maha is still alive?”
“As I said, we have reason to believe that he survived, and that he’s alive and well on Earth.” Sawyer turned his seat back around. “That’s the part of this whole thing t
hat is still classified, and which I haven’t received clearance to discuss with you quite yet.”
Jorge raised an eyebrow. “Sir, you’re the Corps’ commanding officer. You’re…”
“Sworn to silence until we reach Government House.” Sawyer smiled slightly, apparently relishing the expression on the young man’s face. “Oh, no, we’re not heading back to Fort Lopez, if that’s what you thought. It’s straight to Liberty for us, for a private meeting with…well, you’ll find out soon enough.”
Jorge checked his watch. It was almost 1400; if the Monroe’s destination had been Hammerhead, he could have expected the airship to reach the Corps home base by late afternoon. But New Florida was much farther away; they probably wouldn’t arrive until sometime after midnight. Not soon enough, so far as he was concerned.
“Guess I’ll have to be patient,” he murmured, leaning back in his seat again. Then a new thought occurred to him. “I don’t get it. I can understand why you’d want Corporal Torres…Inez, I mean…to be there. But why me?”
Sawyer didn’t respond at once, yet there was a quizzical look on his face. “You still haven’t figured that out yet, have you?” he said after a moment. “Are you telling me you’ve forgotten your family history?” When Jorge shook his head, Sawyer let out his breath. “C’mon, son…think. What’s the chaaz’maha’s real name? The one he was given at birth?”
“He was…is…Hawk Thompson.” Jorge hadn’t forgotten. It was simply that this was something his family had always been reluctant to discuss. “He’s my…”
In that instant, the revelation struck him with the force of a hammer. Unable to breathe, he sagged in his chair. The drink that Sawyer put before him had been untouched until now; all of a sudden, he found himself wanting it, yet when he reached out to take it, the glass slipped from his fingers, spilling bearshine across the fine-grained wood of the table.
