by Allen Steele
“That’s right.” Sawyer’s voice was low, sympathetic. “Hawk Thompson…the chaaz’maha…is your mother’s cousin. Which means that Inez is your second cousin.”
The Monroe’s observation lounge was located on the upper deck above the gondola. Wide, downward-angled windows arranged in a semicircle afforded a sweeping view of everything below; the lounge was furnished with swivel-mounted armchairs, with a small telescope anchored to the floor between the seats. During expeditions, the lounge was frequently used by naturalists taking advantage of the dirigible’s ability to hover silently above the terrain in order to study the wildlife below, but mainly it served as a place for crewmen and passengers to relax.
Jorge found Inez in the lounge, seated beside the telescope. The compartment was empty except for her, and she’d switched off the ceiling lights, allowing the darkness of the night to surround her. Bear had risen several hours earlier; at a quarter past midnight, the giant planet was at its zenith, its cool blue radiance the lounge’s only illumination. She didn’t look around when he came up the ladder, so at first he thought she hadn’t noticed his entrance. But then she spoke, and he realized he should have known better than to believe that he could ever sneak up on her.
“Hello, Lieutenant.” That was all she said: a simple acknowledgment of his presence.
“Hello, Inez.” He hesitated. “Mind if I join you?”
She didn’t respond with anything save a quiet nod as she continued to gaze out the windows at the dark landscape several thousand feet below. The Monroe was somewhere above Midland; when he came closer to the windows, Jorge saw that he was able to make out the northwest side of the Gillis Range, its snowcapped peaks resembling white papier-mâché beneath the pale blue bearlight. He’d never seen the mountains quite this way before. It was a stunning view, and yet he realized, too late, that he probably should have let her enjoy it on her own.
“Sorry to intrude,” he said, not taking a seat. “If you’d rather be alone…”
“No, sir, that’s fine. I think I’m ready for a little company, anyway.” Inez was sitting cross-legged in the chair, her legs curled up beneath her and a mug of hot chocolate nestled in her lap. She wore only the blue unitard of her Corps uniform, apparently having decided to leave the waistcoat and boots in her cabin; Jorge noticed that she’d unzipped it to her sternum, exposing the white tank top she had on underneath, and quickly looked away. There were things about her that he couldn’t allow himself to contemplate anymore.
“Thanks.” Jorge settled into a chair on the other side of the telescope. “I didn’t see you at dinner, and when I stopped by your cabin a little while ago, I found your mother had already gone to bed.” He sighed in embarrassment. “I’m afraid I woke her up, but…”
“That’s okay, sir. Mama’s always been a light sleeper anyway.” She smiled. “Let me guess…you were about to knock on the door when she called you by name and told you where I was.”
Jorge looked at her sharply. Was that only a guess, or had she read his mind? “Yeah, that’s pretty much what happened.”
Inez took a sip of hot chocolate. “Members of the Order usually don’t sleep very soundly. Too many distractions, especially if there’s someone nearby.” She gave him a sidelong look. “Never had that problem myself…but then again, I didn’t inherit all of my parents’ gifts.”
Jorge didn’t know quite what to say to this. “Umm…does that mean you’re not…?”
“Telepathic?” She shook her head. “No, sir. I’m what the Order calls a ‘feeler’…a low-level empath. Which means I’m able to pick up on people’s emotions but not their thoughts. Something I was born with, for better or worse, but since I’ve never been indoctrinated into the Order, mind-reading is something I can’t do.”
Thank God for that! Jorge tried not to show his relief, although she doubtless sensed it anyway. “So…ah, I take it that this was something you inherited.”
“As I said, I got it from my parents, so I’ve had it since birth.” Inez returned her gaze to the windows. “Shortly after my fifth birthday, the Order invited me to undergo the ritual that would’ve turned me into a high-level telepath.” She glanced at him again. “And before you ask…no, I can’t tell you what that is. That’s a secret we keep in The Sanctuary that very few outsiders know about.”
“That’s all right. I don’t have to know. But…you turned them down, I take it.”
“Yes, sir. And they weren’t happy about it. After all, I’m the chaaz’maha’s only child. Some of them believed…and still do, I think…that I’m destined to follow my father’s footsteps, become Sa’Tong’s next spiritual leader. The new chaaz’maha, really.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what Sawyer…General Lee, I mean…told me.” Jorge paused. “He also said that’s the reason why you didn’t join the Order. You wanted to find your own way in the world, so you left The Sanctuary and joined the Corps of Exploration instead.”
“Uh-huh.” She sipped some more hot chocolate, then lowered a bare foot to the floor and used it to swivel her chair around so that she could face him. “How much else did he tell you about me, sir?”
“I wish you wouldn’t keep calling me ‘sir’…or ‘lieutenant’ either, for that matter.” Jorge looked away from her; perhaps he was trying to change the subject, but he couldn’t help himself. “It’s a surprise…to me, at any rate…that you’re my cousin. Or second cousin, to be precise. I never knew that I had one, let alone that it was you. So this isn’t making it any easier.”
“Sorry. Old habits die hard.” Inez sighed, shook her head. “He must have told you that I knew all along…that you and I are related, that is.”
She was being persistent; Jorge knew that he had to confront the situation, as uncomfortable as it might be for both of them. “Sawyer told me that you’d changed your last name so that no one in Corps would connect you with your father, and that once you’d graduated from cadet training, he’d deliberately placed you under my command. Sort of a compromise he’d made with your mother since she was still reluctant about your joining the Corps in the first place.” He paused. “He also said that, if it hadn’t been for this, I would’ve never been told who you were.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you, sir”—Inez corrected herself—“Jorge, I mean.” A nervous laugh. “I’m going to have to get used to saying that, aren’t I?”
He grinned. “That makes two of us. I’m going to have to get used to hearing it.”
Inez nodded but didn’t say anything for a moment. “I have a feeling that’s not the only thing you’re going to have to get used to. You really weren’t expecting this, were you?”
Jorge shook his head. His family’s relationship with the chaaz’maha had always been something that his parents didn’t like to talk about. When Hawk Thompson was a teenager, he’d murdered his father…in part, he would later claim, to protect his aunt Susan, who’d only recently met Jonathan Parson, who in turn had been severely beaten by Lars Thompson’s hired thugs. So Jorge’s parents had always felt that they shared a certain measure of responsibility, if only indirectly, for that act of patricide. Even after Hawk had found personal redemption by discovering Sa’Tong and becoming the chaaz’maha, he’d continued to be a relative the family disowned. As a result, Jorge had never met Hawk; indeed, he’d been only scarcely aware that the chaaz’maha was his cousin.
“No, I wasn’t expecting this,” Jorge admitted, then changed the subject. “You’ve known the general for a long time, haven’t you?”
“Not really…but he’s known me since I was a baby.” Seeing the puzzled look on his face, Inez went on. “When my father died, the first thing my mother did was take me to The Sanctuary. I’d been born only a few days earlier, you see, on Midland, and already people were regarding my father as some sort of messiah…something he never wanted, even while he was becoming known as the chaaz’maha. Very few people knew that he had a baby girl, and Mama wanted to spare me all the attention. Besides, by then
they’d learned that a Dominionist minister had carried a bomb aboard the Lee, so there was still some question of whether there might be others who’d like to do us harm.”
“Makes sense.” He shrugged. “Could’ve been another fanatic out there who would have liked to get rid of you, too.”
“Uh-huh. At any rate, Mama asked Sawyer if he’d get us to Medsylvania before anyone really caught on. He did so, then pretty much left us alone after that, except to check in now and then to see if we were okay. So I only knew Sawyer as a family friend who’d drop by once a year or so.”
“So he didn’t recruit you for the Corps?”
“No…or at least not directly.” She shrugged, turning her face toward the window again. “But by the time I’d grown up to understand what was being expected of me, he’d formed the Corps, and I came to see it as an alternative to becoming the new chaaz’maha. So instead of undergoing the ritual and joining the Order, I asked the general if he’d let me in.”
“The Order must have been furious when you left The Sanctuary.”
“Some of them were, yes. Some still are. But they couldn’t keep me there, and Mama knew better than to try.” Inez let out her breath as she put her mug down on the floor. “Like I said, I owe you an apology. It was never my intent to deceive you, or lead you on in any way when you were…”
She abruptly stopped herself, but Jorge didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what she’d almost said. If Inez could detect the emotions of others, then she must have been acutely aware of the intense sexual attraction he had for her.
Suddenly, it all made sense: the reason why she’d always been standoffish toward him, why she’d avoided even casual physical contact, why she’d sought to keep their friendship on a cordial, yet professional, level. They belonged to the same family, with only two degrees of separation keeping them from being brother and sister. Not only that, but old Colony Law, established seventy Earth-years ago, expressly prohibited marriage or sexual relationships between relatives, even if they were distant cousins. In the days when Coyote’s population had numbered no more than a hundred, and the original Alabama colonists were starting to have children, this had been enacted in order to prevent birth defects that would have put future generations at risk. Although Colony Law was subsequently revised to form the basis of the Federation constitution, this particular statute had never been repealed.
So the facts were clear. Although he and Inez could be friends, they could never be lovers.
“No,” he said. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. You were only doing what had to be done.” Jorge hesitated. “And I know what it’s like to have a famous father, let alone a grandfather. My family wants me to…”
From the ceiling, the sound of a chime, then a voice came over the speaker. “All hands, attention. We’re on approach for landing at Liberty, with touchdown in twenty minutes. All members of the landing crew, please report to your stations. Repeat, we’re on approach to landing at Liberty…”
Jorge looked away from her. Unnoticed by either of them, the Monroe had gradually lost altitude. As they watched in silence, the airship moved across the rain forests that lined Midland’s western coast, leaving the mountains behind. Below them was the dark vein of the East Channel, the river town of Thompson’s Ferry appearing as a small cluster of lights nestled upon the shores of New Florida. Farther inland, beyond the Eastern Divide, was the bright and shining sprawl that was Coyote’s largest city.
“We better go.” Rising from her chair, Inez zipped up the front of her uniform. As an afterthought, she bent over to retrieve her mug. “I’m glad we’ve had a chance to talk.”
“Yeah. So am I.” Jorge hastily reached down to pick it up for her. “Maybe we’ll…um, I hope we do so again soon.”
“So do I.” Inez smiled as she took the mug from him. Their fingertips lightly brushed one another’s, but this time she didn’t immediately pull away. “See you soon…cousin.”
He nodded, forcing a grin that he didn’t feel, then watched as she padded barefoot across the deck. He didn’t get up from his chair, though, but waited until she had walked down the ladder, heading for the passenger cabins on the lower deck. When she was gone, he sagged in his chair, letting out his breath as he buried his face in his hands.
Damn it. Damn it! He was still in love with her.
The Monroe descended upon the aerodrome on the western outskirts of Liberty. Spotlights painted the mammoth airship with shades of blue and silver as, ever so slowly, its prow nestled against the mobile mooring tower. A loud clang as the dirigible’s bow hook mated with the tower, then the pilot throttled down the engines. By then, the ground crew had attached its lines to nearby tractors; once the crew and passengers disembarked, the Monroe would be towed across the field to an immense hangar, where it would await its next flight.
Sawyer Lee led the way down the ladder, followed by the other passengers. Jorge and Inez were back in uniform, including the field jackets and berets they hadn’t worn while they were on Algonquin. In her brown robes, Melissa stood out within the group, or so it seemed to Jorge as he noticed the curious glances of the ground crew. Although the Order’s existence was no longer secret, its members weren’t seen very often in public, and it was unusual to see one coming down the gangway of a Corps airship.
Almost as soon as their feet touched ground, a coupe glided across the airfield, coming to a halt directly in front of them. Its rear passenger door canted upward, and Jorge was surprised to see a Militia soldier climb out, airpulse rifle slung over his shoulder. The blueshirt said nothing but simply gestured for them to get into the vehicle while casting a baleful eye upon the ground crew. Apparently realizing that curiosity was unwanted, the workers turned away. There might be some rumors circulating through town by morning, but with scant information to go on, it would be hearsay and nothing more.
It wasn’t until everyone was in the coupe and the vehicle was in motion that Sawyer finally spoke. “We’re going straight to Government House, where the briefing will be held. It’s a little late for that, of course, so we’ll be staying tonight in the guest quarters. I trust no one objects.”
“Any chance I can see my family, sir?” It had been several months since the last time Jorge had visited his parents; besides, it would also give him an excuse to drop by his favorite tavern for a pint or two.
Sawyer shook his head. “Sorry, Lieutenant, not this time. In fact, I’m going to have to ask everyone to remain in Government House until further notice. Also, we’re going to ask you to not wear your uniforms while you’re here. For various reasons, we need for you to go incognito…you’ll know why later. In any case, civilian clothes will be supplied to you.” He gave Melissa a meaningful glance. “I’m afraid that applies to you as well, ma’am. Your robe…”
“I understand.” Melissa pulled back her hood; again, Jorge was struck by how much she resembled Inez. “I don’t like it, but I understand.”
“I’m sure you do.” Sawyer’s voice was even, but something in the way he said this made Jorge aware again that Melissa probably knew more than she’d been told. There were few secrets that could be kept from a mind reader…and if Jorge had ever doubted that the Order was capable of telepathy, his conversation with Inez had erased his skepticism.
Inez said nothing but simply sat quietly beside Jorge, close enough that their shoulders touched. Only yesterday, he would have welcomed such contact, perhaps even taking the opportunity to casually drape an arm across the back of her seat. But that seemed ages ago, and much had changed in too short a time. Not only that, but he’d been made self-conscious by the cold way in which Melissa regarded him. She’d said little to him during the flight from Algonquin, remaining in her cabin for most of the trip, but Jorge had little doubt that she knew about the attraction he felt for her daughter.
In an effort to distract himself, Jorge gazed through the windows on his side of the coupe. By then, the hovercar had left the aerodrome behind and was crossing
into Liberty’s city limits; in the dark and silent hours between midnight and dawn, the sidewalks were empty, streetlamps casting a soft radiance upon the snowbanks along the curbs. Again, he reflected how much his hometown had changed in the last few years. When he was a boy, Liberty had still been little more than a large town, with packed-dirt streets meandering between wood-frame houses and the occasional adobe-brick structure. No building was more than three stories tall, and fish-oil lamps were still the principal source of lighting in most homes. It was even possible to see shags in the streets, tied up at hitching posts or pulling wagons from one place to another.
All that had changed. Once hjadd emissaries to Coyote assisted the Federation in rebuilding the starbridge, the colonists found themselves benefiting from increased trade with the other races of the galaxy. Although humankind apparently didn’t have much to offer in terms of technology—aside from raw materials and certain cash crops, there was little that the hjadd, the kua’tah, the morath, or the soranta didn’t already have, particularly in terms of technology—they were surprised to discover that aliens were fascinated by human culture. Music, painting, sculpture, even literature and vids: in all their variations, these art forms were as much in demand as wood, iron, or hemp, with the Talus races willing to exchange knowledge and tools that they’d long since taken for granted for things they’d never heard or seen before.
As a result, in the six and a third LeMarean years that had passed since Black Anael, human civilization on Coyote had undergone a distinct transformation. Liberty itself was a prime example; the older buildings, constructed of blackwood, mountain briar, and adobe, were vanishing, to be surrounded or outright replaced by amorphous, free-form structures that had been literally grown, from the ground up, by microassemblers that broke down the limestone-and-granite bedrock beneath the topsoil and used them as raw material. Even electrical fixtures were no longer limited to primitive wiring systems but now used embedded solar arrays and piezoelectric threads to supply and transfer power. The hjadd had used such advanced nanotech to erect their own embassy; now that they’d revealed its secrets to humankind, the older methods of construction were rapidly falling into obsolescence, and it was only in the more remote settlements that carpenters and bricklayers still had steady jobs.
