Coyote Frontier

by Allen Steele

  “We are indeed.” Parson cinched tight the straps of his own pack. “And let me tell you…if you fall, I’m not coming back to save you.”

  “Wasn’t expecting you to,” Hawk mumbled.

  Despite appearances, the ascent wasn’t nearly as difficult as it seemed from the base of the cliffs; the rock was stable and didn’t crumble when they put their weight upon it, and there were plenty of small ledges for them to grasp as handholds. They took their time, resting whenever possible, helping each other if they could do so without losing their own balance. Nonetheless, it took over an hour for them to climb up the narrow crevice, and once they reached the top of the bluffs they had to stop to catch their breath.

  They’d emerged upon a broad shelf above the tree line, with only a few scraggly bushes growing here and there. The summit rose above them as a naked pinnacle, like a giant granite thumb thrust up against the heavens. Grey clouds scudded across the sky behind it, and Susan had the illusion that the rock was teetering, about to fall upon them. Looking away, she hastily zipped up the front of her jacket; without any trees to break the wind, she felt a chill.

  “Not much farther, I hope,” she said.

  “Not at all. In fact, we’re almost there.” Parson looked around, as if searching for something, then turned to her and Hawk. “All right now, this is important,” he said, his voice low. “From here on, you two need to do exactly what I say. No arguments, no questions…just do it. Any mistakes now could get us in serious trouble.”

  “How do we know you—?” Hawk began.

  “Keep your voice down.” Parson glared at the boy. “I mean it, kid. Start fooling with me, and I’ll pitch you over the side.”

  Hawk started to object, but Susan interceded. “All right, you’re in charge,” she said. “What do we do now?”

  Parson pointed to the left, where the shelf led alongside a steep rock wall. “We’re going that way. Walk single file, and try not to talk if you don’t have to. And watch your step…it can get rather dicey after this.”

  Susan followed him along the top of the bluffs, with Hawk close behind her. Parson was right; the shelf gradually became narrower, until less than four feet of sand-covered rock separated the escarpment on their right from the sheer vertical drop on their left. She tried not to look over the side as she made her way along the path, being careful where she put her feet. From somewhere many miles away, she heard the distant rumble of thunder. A storm was approaching. She prayed that they wouldn’t be caught up here; high winds could easily toss them over the precipice.

  Yet then they came around a bend, and suddenly the shelf became wider, almost as if it was a small hollow, with the mountainside forming a concave half-bowl that curved around them. Parson stopped; he put a finger to his lips, then silently pointed to the center of the hollow. Looking more closely, Susan saw an opening in the middle of the floor: a sinkhole, formed over time by rainwater trickling down the slope and carving a vertical shaft where it’d found a fissure.

  Yet it was far more than that. Here and there around the sinkhole, small piles of sticks had been placed, as if stacked as…yes, of course, firewood. And even farther away, deep within the hollow, lay a circle of stones: a fire pit, filled with black ashes and charred pieces of wood. This was the place where the smoke seen from the logging camp had originated.

  “Give me the food and your second flashlight,” Parson whispered to Susan, then he looked at Hawk. “Yours, too. We’re going to need to give ’em everything we can spare.”

  Hawk hesitated, but surrendered his light after Susan prompted him with a nod. She removed from her pack the carrots and potatoes she’d lifted from the kitchen, and added one of her flashlights. Parson cradled the vegetables and flashlights in his arms, trying not to drop anything. “All right, now, follow me. Stick close, and don’t say a word.”

  Hunched over by his burden, Parson slowly walked across the hollow, Susan and Hawk right behind him. No one spoke as they approached the sinkhole, yet as they drew closer, Susan spotted something sticking up from the opening. It looked like two tree branches laid side by side, until she recognized it for what it was: the top of a ladder.

  “Stop here,” Parson said, once they were a dozen yards from the sinkhole. Susan and Hawk watched as Parson carefully laid the offerings upon the ground a few yards from the hole. He took a few seconds to separate the carrots from the potatoes, then neatly placed the two flashlights next to them, switching them on as an afterthought.

  “All right,” he said, “come with me.” Then he stood up and walked away. They retreated another few yards, then Parson sat down, crossing his legs and beckoning for them to do the same. “Keep your hands in sight at all times,” he whispered, “and don’t make any sudden moves. When they appear…if they appear…don’t look at them straight on. And no one say anything, for God’s sake.”

  “How do they know we’re—?” Hawk began.

  “They know. Now shut up and wait.”

  And so they sat in silence, almost as if in meditation, as they watched the sinkhole. The storm was closer now; the day had darkened, and the thunder was no longer quite so distant. The wind was picking up, and Susan felt shy drops of rain against her face. Gazing toward the summit, she saw that it had all but disappeared within the grey smudge of low clouds. They were exposed to the storm; when it hit, and doubtless it would be soon, there would be no place for them to seek shelter.

  Like everyone who’d grown up on Coyote, she’d learned to respect the elements. Her eyes sought out an overhang within the far side of the hollow. It wasn’t very large, but it might offer some protection, if they huddled together and put their jackets over their heads.

  She felt Parson prod her shoulder with his elbow, and she looked around to see a small form emerging from the sinkhole. Stepping off the ladder, the chirreep crouched low, its hands nearly touching the ground as it stared straight at them. A young male, Susan decided; it wore a loincloth, but no jewelry. It moved a little closer, examining the gifts but not daring to touch them. After a few seconds, it retreated to the ladder and disappeared again.

  “So much for that,” Hawk whispered. “Nice try, but—”

  “Quiet,” Parson hissed. “That was just a scout. Whatever you do, stay—”

  “Here he comes again.” Susan saw the same chirreep come up the ladder once more. This time he wasn’t alone. Two more were behind him; the last to appear seemed to be the same one who’d shown up in camp last night. The three chirreep stopped at the top of the ladder, no longer crouching but standing upright; they didn’t move away from the sinkhole, though, but instead carried on a brief conversation, a rapid succession of soft-pitched chirps and hoots.

  She glanced at Parson. His head was cocked slightly as he listened intently, yet when she caught his eye, he shook his head. He couldn’t understand what they were saying either.

  An abrupt flash, and Susan looked up in time to see a wand of lightning strike just on the other side of the mountain peak, followed a couple of seconds later by a sharp crack that startled even the chirreep. Their leader snapped something at the two younger ones, and they scurried over to the food and flashlights. Yet, as they quickly gathered the gifts in their arms, Katoom calmly moved toward the three humans seated nearby, until he was only a few feet away.

  “Chirreep-sha kasho haka,” he said, looking directly at Parson. “Katoom hoota kreepha-shee, heep! Hona shaka heet!”

  “He’s thanking us for the offerings, I think,” Parson said softly. “There’s something else, though, but I can’t tell what…never mind.” He pointed to the sinkhole. “Kreepha-shee hoota, Katoom,” he said slowly. “Haka hoota.”

  Katoom peered at him. “Hana hoota? Kreepha-shee?”

  “Kreepha-shee haka.” Parson pointed again toward the sinkhole. “Katoom hoota?” He gestured to the sky, then fluttered his fingers around his face, as if pantomiming rain falling down upon them. “Kreepha-shee hoota,” he repeated. “Katoom haka.”

 
; Susan got it. Parson was telling Katoom that the kreepha-shee had brought haka. Now he was asking if they could be allowed into their hoota, to get out of the rain. She desperately wished she could take notes, but that was out of the question just now; the best she could do was try to commit everything to memory.

  Katoom seemed uncertain. The other two chirreep had picked up everything and had disappeared back down the hole, but he remained with the visitors. Another growl from the sky, and now cold rain came pelting down upon them. That seemed to help him make up his mind. “Kreepha-shee hoota kasha, koot!” he exclaimed, then gestured to the sinkhole. “Koot! Hoota koot, kreepshee-koot!”

  “I’ll take that as an invitation,” Susan said.

  “Yes, it is.” Parson pushed himself to his feet, then helped her up. “We’ve given them something, and they’re offering us something in return. It’s their way.”

  “Have you ever done this before?” Hawk asked as he stood up.

  “Once.” Parson paused to look at him. “I just hope you’ll remember what you see here.”

  The ladder was rickety, barely able to sustain their weight; they went down one at a time, testing each rung before they made the next step. The sinkhole was nearly twenty feet deep, and when they reached the bottom, they found themselves in a narrow tunnel only four feet in height, forcing them to bend over double.

  Yet, although the tunnel was dim, it wasn’t completely dark. There was a pale green glow from the rock walls, vein-like and irregular, yet just bright enough to light their way. Susan probed one of the veins with her fingertip, felt a sponge-like substance. Bioluminescent lichen, like some sort of moss that grew upon the cave walls. She wondered if it had been deliberately cultivated, decided that it was so; the tunnel itself seemed to have been excavated by patient hands over dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of years.

  Katoom waited patiently until all his guests had made their way down the ladder, then he scampered down the tunnel, holding aloft one of the flashlights he’d been given. “It’s okay,” Parson said, switching on his own flashlight as he bent down upon his knees to gaze back at Susan and Hawk. “I know where he’s taking us. Just stay together, and we’ll be all right.”

  “Sure, but what if we…ow!” Hawk winced as he banged the back of his head against the ceiling. “Damn! Why’d they have to make these things so small?”

  “Because they weren’t made for you.” Parson began shuffling forward. “And don’t worry about getting lost. We’re not going very far.”

  Parson was exaggerating; the tunnel may have been less than sixty feet in length, but it seemed twice that long. Susan felt her thighs and calves beginning to cramp, and more than once her skull connected painfully with the ceiling until she pulled out her remaining flashlight and switched it on. And yet, despite her discomfort, she found herself experiencing déjà vu; this place was very much like the cliff dwelling she’d seen as a child. Only this time, there was no fear, only the thrill of discovery. She was entering the heart of a mystery; soon, all her questions would be answered.

  The passage took a sharp curve to the right, and suddenly the tunnel came to an end in a larger cave. Standing upright, Susan gaped at what she saw; their flashlights revealed a cavern nearly a hundred yards across, the size of a small amphitheater. Stalactites hung from between the cracks that ran across the ceiling fifty feet above their heads, and the broken remains of formations lay here and there across the clay floor. The air was cool, but not cold, and their footfalls echoed softly off the smooth rock walls.

  They weren’t alone. From all around them, chirreep stared at them. They squatted on the cavern floor and stood upon high ledges and guarded the openings of small niches that had been carved into the walls. Although they maintained a respectful distance, their eyes reflected the glow of their lights, and their subdued voices were a constant babble of hoots and clicks and chirps.

  “Oh, crap, we’re surrounded.” Hawk nervously glanced left and right. “Look, I’ll take my chances with the storm. Let’s just get out of here.”

  “If they wanted to harm us, they would have done so already.” Parson nodded toward Katoom, who calmly stood only a few feet away. “He’s accepted us as friends. So long as nobody panics, we’re fine. And we can leave anytime we want.”

  “We can? Great.” Hawk took a backward step toward the tunnel. “Tell him thanks, but we need to—”

  “Cut it out.” Susan aimed her flashlight at the cave walls; the chirreep flinched, raising their hands against the glare, and she hastily swept it away from their eyes. “What are all these holes? Their sleeping places?”

  “Sort of. But it might also be where they hibernate.” Parson searched the chamber until he found one that was vacant, and shined his light within it. Now she could see that it was packed with matted grass, with what looked like bags stuffed along the sides. “This far underground, the temperature probably remains constant year-round. I’m guessing that they sleep most of the winter down here, consuming food that they’ve stashed away.”

  Susan nodded; his theory made sense. With the exception of marine life, all of Coyote’s native fauna were warm-blooded. During the planet’s long winter, those species that didn’t migrate to the equatorial regions, like the swoops and the boids, or survive by foraging, like the shags, had evolved as hibernating animals, burrowing deep underground or building nests inside fallen trees and ball plants, with smaller creatures like root rats freezing solid. Since no one had ever spotted a chirreep during the winter, this had led biologists to speculate that they holed up within their dwellings. Here was proof that this theory was correct.

  “That’s not what I wanted to show you, though.” Raising his flashlight, Parson aimed its beam toward the far wall of the cavern. “I found it over there, the first time I came down here. But that was pretty much by accident. I don’t know if they’ll let me see it again.”

  He lowered the light, looked at Katoom. “Kreepha-shee hoota shak,” he said haltingly, and the chirreep cocked his head slightly, as if trying to divine his meaning. “Hoota shak,” he repeated, then pointed toward the far wall. “Kreepha-shee…um, shak. Shak.”

  Katoom hooted with what couldn’t be interpreted as anything but amusement; the chirreep surrounding them responded the same way. “Guess you got their funny bone,” Susan said. “They probably think we’re idiots.”

  “Kreepha-shee shak koo-shoo heeka!” Then Katoom darted away, gesturing for them to follow him. “Shak koo-shoo! Heeka sha! Kreet!”

  “Sounds like an invitation to me,” Parson said, then he led the others across the cavern, heading for the place he’d indicated that he wanted to see.

  The far wall of the cavern hadn’t been tunneled out, save for a narrow opening that appeared to lead farther into the mountain, yet wan sunlight crept down from a crack in the ceiling high above, from which water dripped into crude bowls placed next to what looked like a fire pit dug within the cave floor. Yet this wasn’t what attracted Susan’s attention; it was what was on the wall above the shallow pit.

  “Oh, my God.” Stopping dead in her tracks, she stared in disbelief at what her flashlight beam revealed. “Paintings. Cave paintings.”

  Dozens of pictographs, crude yet unmistakably deliberate, rendered by alien hands grasping pieces of charred wood to etch primitive drawings upon the smooth granite. They covered much of the wall from the floor to as far as their arms could reach: jagged lines depicting mountains, Bear represented here and there by a larger circle bisected by an oval half-ring. Tiny stick-figures went in and out of holes, danced around flames, lurked beneath trees…

  “They’re not animals.” Behind her, Hawk’s voice was low with astonishment. “You’re right…they’re not just animals.”

  “Rather settles the issue, doesn’t it?” Parson gazed at the wall with admiration. “For all I know, it might just be their version of graffiti. But I think it may be more than just that.”

  “It is.” Pulling off her pack, Susan removed her ca
mera. “This is their history,” she murmured as she raised its flash and adjusted the lens for maximum exposure. “I could spend days…months…studying this thing.”

  “You don’t have that much time. There’s a limit to their hospitality. Get what you can before they throw us out.” Parson walked to the far left corner of the wall. “Here’s what I thought was important. Look.”

  Bending low, Susan studied the drawings with her flashlight. A blaze above wavy horizontal lines seemed to represent mountain peaks; beneath it, several figures appeared to be rushing away. Next to it, another picture: choppy lines that could have been water, with a half-moon-shape floating upon it; three large stick figures sat in the crudely drawn boat, and nearby a couple of small figures watched from behind trees. Another picture: more tall figures, marching up a slope, while tiny figures hurried away. And yet another image: a row of triangles, and beside them tall figures pushing over trees, hauling them away…

  “It’s about how we came here.” Susan found herself barely able to breathe; ignoring the camera in her hands, she pointed to the first pictograph. “Look…that’s got to be a ship arriving. Probably the Alabama. Look how frightened they were. And then, here…” She shined her light on the second pictograph. “The first time they saw us, when a boat came across the West Channel.” She looked at the stick figures hiding behind the trees. “They knew about us before we became aware of them. They must have been terrified.”

  “Can you blame them? We were invaders from the sky.” Kneeling next to her, Parson pointed to the third and fourth sets of drawings. “Then we came up into the mountains. They ran away, but then we set up the camp, started cutting down trees.”

  “Hey, y’all, look at this.” To their right, Hawk was bending down beside another row of pictures. “Is this what I think it is?”

  Susan moved closer to him. Captured by her flashlight beam was another etching: two long parallel lines, tilted slightly downward and held up by shorter lines. Yet near one end, the parallel lines had been broken in half; chirreep beat upon them with sticks, while larger figures ran toward them.