Coyote Destiny

by Allen Steele

  Jorge took a deep breath, tried to relax as much as possible. Resting his elbows on the table, the chaaz’maha stared straight at him, solemnly peering into his eyes. For a moment, Jorge felt an odd tickle at the back of his skull, almost as if a gnat had nestled within his hair. He started to reach back to scratch at it, then the chaaz’maha smiled again.

  “All right, it’s done,” he said, then he glanced at Inez. “Would you go stand behind him, please?” Without a word, Inez rose from her chair and walked around the table to stand behind Jorge’s chair. “Don’t look at her,” the chaaz’maha continued. “Just look at me. Now, tell me, please…what are your parents’ first names?”

  Jorge opened his mouth…and suddenly found that he was unable to respond. In his mind’s eye, he could see their faces very clearly, yet as hard as he tried, he could not recall their names. He winced, struggling to remember…

  “Can’t do it, can you?” the chaaz’maha asked, and Jorge shook his head. “Now…look at Inez.”

  Jorge turned his head. Inez was standing behind him, a smile upon her face. “What are your parents’ first names?” the chaaz’maha asked again.

  “Jonathan and Susan,” Jorge said, with no effort at all. Inez grinned and gently patted his shoulder. “I’ll be damned,” he murmured, stunned by what had just happened. “It was like…like…”

  “You couldn’t remember their names until you saw my daughter.” When Jorge looked at the chaaz’maha again, he noticed that he was regarding them thoughtfully. “I had her become the visual trigger that would break the memory block…someone who’d make a very strong visual impression on you.”

  Jorge felt his face grow warm. How much had the chaaz’maha learned about his feelings for Inez while he was placing the block? He tried not to look at her as she returned to her seat beside her father. “So…ah, that’s how Sergio remembered what he was supposed to be doing.”

  “Right.” Vargas nodded. “When Sam ran off, I realized we were in danger.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it would’ve taken too long to explain, and I wasn’t sure if you would’ve believed me anyway. So I disappeared while you and Greg were studying the map…”

  “And allowed us to be captured by the Provos.” Jorge glared at him. “Nice thinking.”

  “I’m sorry, but there wasn’t anything I could’ve done to stop that.” Vargas shook his head. “But I did keep the three of you in sight from a discreet distance…believe me, I didn’t abandon you entirely…until I saw where you were being taken. Then I found our contact on Beacon Hill, whom you’d just met…”

  “The old bookseller?” Inez asked.

  “That’s him, yes.” Vargas nodded. “He’d been watching the Provos on his own, and by then he’d learned that they were holed up in the State House and that they’d begun keeping their prisoners in the basement. So it wasn’t hard for us to figure out where you’d been taken. And…well, you know the rest. The Terra Concorde brought in its paramilitary units. One team staged the rescue operation while I led another team to Port Logan, where we recaptured the Mercator.” He smiled. “And just in case you’re wondering…yes, the starbridge key is safe. That was the first thing I checked. Black’s people hadn’t gotten around to removing it yet.”

  “So we’ll still be able to use the shuttle to get back home.” Jorge let out his breath. “That’s a relief.”

  “Sergio’s plan worked…with two exceptions.” The chaaz’maha’s face became grim, his voice subdued. “One was Sergeant Dillon’s death and Captain McAlister’s becoming wounded. I apologize for this, and hope that you’ll understand that neither could be helped. The other was your personal involvement. I never expected, in all my dreams, that the people who’d come to find me would belong to my own family…or that my own daughter’s life would be put at risk.”

  Inez didn’t respond, but instead laid a hand upon her father’s. The chaaz’maha smiled as he looked at her, then his expression became serious again as he turned to Jorge. “Now…I’m sure you’re very tired, and I’d like to have some time alone with her. Sergio…?”

  Vargas pushed back his chair, stood up. “We have a room for you at the student union, Lieutenant. If you’ll come with me…?”

  “Sure.” Jorge’s legs were rubbery as he rose from his seat. It wasn’t just exhaustion he felt, though. He needed rest, but also time to absorb all that he’d learned. He started to let Vargas lead him from the room, then stopped to look back at Inez. “Are you…?”

  “I’m fine.” She didn’t look away from her father. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Jorge nodded and left them with each other.

  The university’s guest quarters were located on the third floor of the student union, not far from the library. Jorge’s room was small, with only the most basic furniture, but it did have its own bathroom; seeing this, he realized that he needed a bath just as much as sleep. Vargas promised him a meal and a fresh change of clothes, then he left Jorge alone, closing the door behind him.

  Jorge peeled off his Corps uniform, then stood beneath the shower for a long time, letting the hot water rinse away the grime and sweat. When he emerged from the bathroom, he discovered that someone had visited his quarters while he was in the shower; his uniform was missing from where he’d dropped it on the floor, and a clean outfit had been placed on top of the dresser, along with a covered tray. His hosts were nothing if not efficient. Breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs, toast, a bowl of mixed fruit, and a small pot of coffee. He devoured everything while he was still wrapped in his bath towel but ignored the coffee; the last thing he needed just then was something that would keep him awake. Feeling clean and well fed, Jorge closed the window blinds, then crawled beneath the bedcovers. He was asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.

  Daylight was still visible through cracks in the blinds when he finally woke up. A small clock on the bedside table told him that it was only a quarter after three, but he had to remind himself that Earth days were two hours shorter than those on Coyote. Which meant that it was late afternoon, and he’d been asleep a little more than six hours. That was enough; time to get up, perhaps see a little more of where he’d found himself.

  The clothes he’d been brought were plain but fitted him well enough: brown denim slacks and a matching shirt, underwear and socks, a heavy wool sweater. His parka and boots had been left behind, though, so he wouldn’t get cold if he left the building. And it was a relief to find that the door wasn’t locked, nor was there a guard posted outside. Yet he’d barely pulled on his boots when there was a knock at the door, and a young man stuck his head in.

  “Oh, good…you’re already up.” Jorge nodded, and he went on. “The chaaz’maha would like to see you if you’re not too busy.”

  “Not at all,” Jorge replied.

  “Great.” The student smiled and nodded. “If you’re ready, I’ll take you to him.”

  Jorge thought at first that they would return to the library. Instead, the young man escorted him across the campus, past the library, and down the hill, until they reached the geodomes he’d spotted earlier. In the waning light of the day, the translucent hemispheres glowed from within, looking like a pair of blisters that had grown up in the middle of the former athletic field. A concrete walkway led them to the one on the left; an airlock door opened to a small anteroom, where the student told him he could leave his parka. After Jorge hung up his coat, the kid opened the inner door and took him the rest of the way into the dome.

  Jorge found himself in a large greenhouse, with row upon row of elevated racks arranged beneath a gridlike ceiling of ultraviolet lamps. Upon the racks were long trays filled with dark, rich soil; spray-heads above the racks watered the plants being cultivated in the trays. The air within the dome was warm and humid; Jorge was glad that he had left his parka outside and found himself wishing he’d done the same with his sweater. Nonetheless, the dome was a pleasant relief from the autumn chill outside; it was as if there was a
little bit of summertime in the place.

  The student left him then, making a slight bow before turning to walk back the way they’d come. So far as Jorge could tell, there was no one else in the dome. Hands clasped behind his back, he strolled down the aisles between the racks, casually inspecting what was being grown in that part of the greenhouse: herbs, for the most part, although none he immediately recognized.

  He’d just bent over to look more closely at what appeared to be a bed of grass when he heard the airlock door open. Looking up, he saw the chaaz’maha come in. No longer dressed in the long white robe, he wore an ordinary sweatshirt and jeans; were it not for the hjadd symbol on his forehead, he could have been a university botanist, dropping by to check on the gardens.

  Spotting Jorge, the chaaz’maha smiled. “Oh, excellent…you’re already here.” He carefully shut the door behind him, then sauntered down the center aisle. “Thought you might prefer to meet here,” he went on. “This is one of my favorite places, especially when it’s cold outside. I can’t get here often enough.”

  “Yes, it’s…it’s pretty nice.” Jorge found that he was having trouble speaking. He wasn’t a Sa’Tongian, but nonetheless he was still overawed to find himself in the presence of the chaaz’maha. “Are these…I mean, is this being grown as food, or…?”

  “These species? Oh, no…or at least, not exactly. Most of what’s here are exotic species, some of them very nearly extinct until the Terra Concorde undertook its horticultural revival program. The herbs in this part of the dome were often used as folk remedies, way back when.” Coming closer, the chaaz’maha nodded toward the rack Jorge had been inspecting. “That’s couch grass, for instance…sometimes used in witchcraft, or so it was said. Placed under the bed, it could break evil spells.”

  Jorge raised an eyebrow. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

  The chaaz’maha chuckled. “Not at all. Still, it’s fun, knowing the lore behind some of these species.” He pointed to another tray. “That’s horny goat weed…yes, that’s really what it’s called…and it’s supposed to increase the libido. Quite a few of the herbs here have that purpose, it seems. Blood root for sexual enhancement, parsley for fertility…” A salacious wink. “I suppose the old-timers needed a little help now and then.”

  Suddenly nervous about the direction this casual conversation had taken, Jorge decided to change the subject. “How did you find them? You said they were nearly extinct.”

  “Good question. Glad you asked.” The chaaz’maha gazed around the greenhouse. “The Terra Concorde isn’t without precedent. As long ago as the early twenty-first century, various organizations recognized the inevitability of global climate change and began to take measures to assure the long-term survival of endangered species. One of those was the Svalbard Global Seed Bank, which the U.N. established on a Norwegian island just south of the Arctic Circle. It served as a repository for seeds of various plants…particularly agricultural species…that naturalists figured might disappear unless an effort was made to save them.”

  “And the specimens here…they’re from that seed bank?”

  The chaaz’maha nodded. “About eight years ago, the Terra Concorde recovered the seeds from the vault and began disseminating them to facilities much like this one. We have similar greenhouses all over the world now, raising plants that were once thought to have been wiped out. In some areas, we’ve already begun widespread farming. A little like what we’re doing at the library, only this time it’s rare herbs instead of books we’re trying to preserve.”

  “So eventually these plants will be…?”

  “Put back in the world? Yes, that’s the objective.” The chaaz’maha shook his head. “It’s going to take some time, though, I’m afraid. First, we have to restore social stability, and there are still too many places like Boston, too many groups like the Provisional Army. But that’s how we’re saving the world…incrementally, one step at a time.”

  “Makes sense,” Jorge said. “Still, as you say…you’ve taken on a lot.”

  “Yes, we have…and that’s what I wanted to speak to you about.” The chaaz’maha raised a hand, gestured toward the middle of the greenhouse. “Come with me. Let’s talk.”

  Jorge followed him to the dome’s center. A couple of wooden benches had been placed there as a place for gardeners to take a break; ivy-covered trellises concealed it from the rest of the greenhouse. Taking a seat, the chaaz’maha motioned for Jorge to sit down across from him. “I’ve asked Inez to join us,” he began, “but before she gets here, I’d like to speak with you alone about…well, your involvement with her.”

  Jorge felt his face burn. “I guess she must have told you about…ah, what happened.”

  “She did, yes…but she didn’t need to.” Now it was the chaaz’maha’s turn to be embarrassed; Jorge was surprised to see that he seemed to be having trouble meeting his gaze. “I picked up on your feelings for her almost as soon as I saw the two of you, but I didn’t know for sure until I searched your mind in order to block your memory. Inez confirmed what I’d found…you love her very much, and last night…”

  He stopped, took a deep breath. “Well…much of that is none of my business. I may be her father, but the fact remains that, even if Inez hadn’t grown up without me, the decisions she makes are entirely her own, as they should be.” He hesitated. “But both of you are having to deal with your feelings for each other, and in your case, there’s quite a bit of guilt as well.”

  Jorge nodded. “Her mother made it clear to me that I’m to stay away from her.” He hesitated. “Our relationship is also illegal…or at least it is in the Federation.”

  “I think Melissa is being overprotective. From what Inez has told me about the way she was raised in The Sanctuary, that’s the impression I get.” A wry smile. “As for the latter…you know why the law against relatives having sexual relations is in place? Even among second cousins?”

  “It goes back to the early days of the colonies, when there were concerns about…” Reluctant to complete the rest, Jorge’s voice trailed off.

  “Inbreeding, yes,” the chaaz’maha said, and slowly nodded. “Not really a concern now, though, especially since Coyote’s population has become so large. I’m a little surprised that it hasn’t been repealed, but I suppose old laws and the social concerns behind them take a long time to change. Still, it’s not like she’s your sister. You shouldn’t have to apologize for the way you feel about her.”

  “Then you don’t object?” Jorge was stunned.

  The chaaz’maha shrugged. “Here on Earth, there have been many famous men who married their cousins. Edgar Allan Poe, Albert Einstein…in terms of bloodlines, you’re separated from Inez even more than they were from the women they took as their wives.”

  The subject had taken an uncomfortable turn. Jorge cleared his throat. “I don’t think marriage is something either of us has in mind. As for what happened last night…look, she was frightened, and needed to…”

  “She wanted comfort.” The chaaz’maha raised a hand. “I understand…and I’m glad you were there for her. And the last thing I want to do is tell you or Inez what you should or should not do. I only want to point out that you’re on Earth, not Coyote. Here, at least, you don’t need to worry about an obsolete old statute.”

  “Thank you.” Jorge felt himself relax a little. “I’m glad you aren’t—”

  “Let me finish, please. You two are still going to have to work things out between you. However, there’s something else you should know…something that may have some bearing on your situation.” He paused, slowly let out his breath. “I’m not going back with you.”

  Jorge stared at him. “You’re not?”

  The chaaz’maha shook his head. “I know that’s the objective of your mission. Inez also told me that my returning to Coyote was a stipulation imposed upon you by the High Council for their permission to permanently reopen Starbridge Coyote to Earth. However, my role as spiritual advisor to the Terra
Concorde is more important than either of those things. I shouldn’t leave…in fact, I can’t.”

  “But…but Coyote needs you…”

  “Does it?” The chaaz’maha raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Judging from what both my daughter and Sergio have told me, my homeworld…my former homeworld, really…has gotten along just fine without me. Earth needs a chaaz’maha to help it discover the wisdom of Sa’Tong. Back there I’d be little more than a figurehead.” A wry smile. “And I never wanted to be a messiah, regardless of what Sergio said while he was memory-blocked.”

  The smile vanished, and again he shook his head. “So I’m staying here. You’ll be able to report that I’m alive and well but have opted to remain on Earth…or at least for the time being, until the Terra Concorde has finished its work. When that happens, I have little doubt the High Council will be willing to allow Coyote to resume direct contact with Earth. I’ll even make the trip to Talus qua’spah myself to make the case for doing so. Until then, though…”

  The chaaz’maha spread his hands apart. “Earth and Coyote must pursue separate destinies. For Earth, it’s to recover from the foolish mistakes of the past. For Coyote, it’s to continue its present course of becoming a member of the galactic community.”

  “I think I see your point.” Jorge slowly nodded. “It’ll be hard for Inez and me to explain why you haven’t come back with us, but…”

  “Well…” Gazing past him, the chaaz’maha paused. “Perhaps this is something my daughter should explain for herself. Inez…?”

  Jorge turned to look over his shoulder and found Inez standing behind him.

  So involved had he been in conversation with her father, Jorge hadn’t heard her enter the greenhouse. Like Jorge, she no longer wore her Corps uniform, apparently also having found a fresh change of clothes in her quarters. Even dressed in loose trousers and a baggy woolen sweater, though, she was as attractive as she’d ever been. Seeing her, Jorge felt his heart skip a beat.