by Allen Steele
“It was dark.” Hawk’s hand trembled as he nervously pushed a lock of hair away from his face. “We got lost up there, and we were trying to find our way down the mountain when—”
“The ground just opened up and swallowed him.” Wendy smiled. “Sure. ‘And only I survived to tell thee—’”
“It’s the truth, I swear.”
“Swear all you want. I still have my doubts.” She tossed aside the rest of the sandwich. “Your father’s been living in the mountains since before you were born. He probably knows them better than I know the streets of town. Even in the dark, you think he’d lose his way and fall into a sinkhole he’d never seen before? I doubt it…just like I doubt that you’d manage to find your way back to camp, then conveniently forget where you lost your father.”
Pushing back her chair, she strolled over to the window. “Marie tells me you vanished from camp shortly after that. Strange, isn’t it…your father’s missing, perhaps even dead, and suddenly you disappear. No one sees you again until this afternoon.”
“I had to…I had to get away.” The bravado had vanished, and he seemed to be disappearing into his seat. “I don’t know what happened to him. He just…he just…”
“Hawk, listen to me.” She turned away from the window, looked straight at him again. “I knew your father from way back when. He and your uncle were in the war together, and Carlos didn’t trust him even then. I hate to say it, but I know what sort of a person he is. There isn’t a decent bone in his body. There’s no one he hasn’t hurt…your mother, your sister, even you.”
Hawk’s lower lip trembled. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. Wendy pretended not to notice, although part of her wanted to take him into her arms. Instead, she sat down in a chair next to him. “If you did what I think you did…what your mother thinks you did…then you must have felt you had a good reason,” she said quietly. “That’s something you’ll have to work out with your own conscience.”
She paused, hating herself for the way she was manipulating him. “But if you tell me everything that I need to know, then I’ll talk to the magistrates, let them know that there were mitigating circumstances. It doesn’t have to be so—”
“They’re not going to destroy the starbridge.” Hawk snuffled, wiped his eyes with his hand. “It’s just a bluff. All they want to do is get people’s attention, make them see what’s happening here. That’s all.”
She let out her breath. “Good. That’s what I needed to hear. Now, can you tell me—?”
“I hated him. I know he was my father, and I tried to love him, but…oh, god, I hated the bastard. That’s why…” He paused. “You can understand that, can’t you?”
He’d killed him. Her worst suspicions had been confirmed. Wendy knew that she should be horrified, yet instead she found herself thinking of her own father, how he’d betrayed everyone he’d known, including herself. “Better than you know,” she said, nodding her head. “Better than I can ever tell.”
Then she moved closer. “Now, talk to me.”
STARBRIDGE COYOTE / 2231
The airlock opened, and Carlos found himself staring at the muzzle of a stunner. “Easy, now,” he heard Parson say from the other side of the hatch. “Come out slowly, and keep your hands where I can see them.”
Hardly the most courteous of receptions, but not unexpected. Parson’s instructions had been specific; Carlos was to come aboard alone and unarmed, and if anyone else was in the airlock when it was opened, the hatch would be immediately shut and the depressurization cycle would be initiated. Carlos raised his hands above his head, then slowly turned, allowing Parson to see that he was the only one inside the airlock.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“A little.” Parson moved out of the way. “All right, come on in…but don’t try any surprises.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Grasping the rungs on the inside of the hatch cover, Carlos slowly pulled himself into the ready room. Parson was alone as well; he carefully backed away, keeping Carlos at arm’s length while never letting the stunner waver from his guest.
“Close the hatch and secure it,” he said. Once Carlos had done so, Parson gestured toward a hand rung on the far side of the compartment. “Grab that,” he said. “Keep your eyes straight ahead. Any sudden moves…”
“I got the idea.” Carlos took hold of the rung, looked at the bulkhead while Parson gave him a one-handed pat-down. It occurred to him that Parson couldn’t do this in microgravity without anchoring himself; he must have put the stunner away for a moment in order to grasp another rung with his free hand. Carlos’s legs floated free; a good, swift backward-kick would catch Parson in the groin or the stomach, perhaps give him an opportunity to grab the stunner. Parson may be half his age, but Carlos had years of combat experience; he was certain he could take him, if he wanted to do so.
Yet he wasn’t about to take that risk, any more than he’d gone along with Ana’s suggestion to put a couple of her men aboard the Raleigh, and have them secretly exit the shuttle through the lower cargo hatch. He was there to negotiate with the hijackers, not double-cross them. Besides, his daughter was aboard; he dared not do anything foolish while Susan was in harm’s way.
“All right, you’re clean.” Parson finished frisking him, then pushed himself away. “Now tell the pilot to undock and return to the Drake.”
Carlos turned around. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“It is now.” Parson nodded toward the airlock. “Do it, or you can climb back in and shove off.”
Carlos hesitated, then tapped his headset lobe. “Lieutenant? Mr. Parson wants you to leave.”
The pilot’s voice came through his earphone. “I’m sorry, Mr. President, but I’m under orders to remain here until—”
“Do as I say.” When he didn’t hear a response, he went on. “I’ll take responsibility. Go back to the Drake and wait for me there. Do you copy?”
A brief pause; no doubt the pilot was checking with Ana, who was probably monitoring this exchange from the Drake’s bridge. “Yes, sir. Raleigh preparing for departure.”
Keeping his stunner on Carlos, Parson pushed himself over to the airlock. He depressurized the sleeve, then peered through the airlock window. A few seconds later, a vibration passed through the hull as the shuttle detached itself from the docking collar; Carlos didn’t need to look outside to know that the Raleigh was moving away from the Gatehouse.
“Little nervous, aren’t you?” He tried to keep his tone casual. “You don’t need to keep me at gunpoint, you know. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
“Thanks for the assurance, but I think I’ll keep it handy. Susan tells me you used to be quite the fighter in your day.” Parson prodded his jaw. “We’re safe, Manny. Is the rest of the station secure?” He listened for a moment. “Very good. We’re coming up.” He nodded toward the compartment hatch. “After you, Mr. President.”
They made their ascent through the access tunnel in silence. As they passed the hatch leading to the crew quarters, Carlos noticed the straps fastened around the lock-lever. The rest of the crew was probably confined to that deck; Parson hustled him quickly past the hatch. He should have relaxed by now, yet he seemed to be even more edgy than before.
Can’t blame him, Carlos thought. The cards are stacked against him. And he doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve already called his bluff.
The first person Carlos saw upon entering the command center was Manuel Castro. It had been many years since the last time he’d seen the Savant; although he was supposed to be ageless, his threadbare black cloak, his eyepatch, and the scuffed surfaces of his metallic form somehow gave him the appearance of an old man. He stood beside the hatch, his feet fastened to the deck by a pair of stirrups. “Mr. President, welcome. I hope your trip here was—”
“Fine, thank you.” Carlos gazed past him. Susan was on the other side of the compartment, holding on to a ceiling rail. Seated next to her was Jonas Whittaker, secured to his ch
air by a lap-strap, his wrists taped together. She immediately looked away, yet there was no way she could hide the embarrassment that spread across her face. She was an adult now, yes, but in that instant she became a child who’d been caught doing something wrong, and now anticipated the wrath of an angry parent.
Yet he wasn’t angry, only afraid. She’d made a mistake; he had to get her out of this before matters became worse. As they would, very soon. He caught a glimpse of a chronometer on the nearest panel: 2238:43. Little more than twenty minutes remaining.
“So, Mr. President, here we are.” Parson came up the shaft behind him, his gun still held at his back. “Let’s hear your proposal.”
“I’d take it as a sign of good faith if you’d put that thing away.” Carlos turned around, looked Parson in the eye. “You don’t need it. I promise that I won’t try to attack you.”
“Sorry, but—”
“When my father makes a promise, he keeps it.” Susan’s voice was quiet. “Put it down, Jon. Please.”
Parson hesitated, then slipped the stunner into his jacket pocket. Carlos tried not to look relieved; he gave Susan a quick nod, but refrained from smiling. Castro pushed himself over to a console beneath the windows, where he picked up a cable dangling in midair and plugged it into a chest socket.
“You’re right,” Carlos said. “I told Susan that if you’d let me aboard, I’d have a proposal that would put an end to this.”
“Don’t give ’em anything!” Jonas snapped. “They don’t have the passwords to—”
“Shut up!” Parson’s face turned red. “It doesn’t matter if we have them or not. We can still destroy the station anytime we—”
“I think not.” Carlos slowly shook his head. “If you had a bomb, maybe, but you don’t. And without access to the comps, you have no control of the RCR system.”
“We’ll soon have access.” Castro didn’t look away from the console; his fingers continued to work at the keypad. “I’ve been processing all possible alphanumeric permutations. Within another hour or so.”
“You don’t have that much time, and you know it.” Carlos glanced at Jonas. “I’m sure he’s told you already that the Magellan is due to arrive at 2300. The comps are already programmed to open the starbridge, and Ambassador Vogel has already used the hyperspace comlink to inform her captain of the situation. I doubt he’s going to be in any mood to negotiate.”
Jonas had an ill-disguised smirk, and Parson seemed to be chewing his lower lip, but Susan had gone pale. Ignoring the other two, Carlos used a ceiling rail to pull himself hand-over-hand across the command center. “It’s all right,” he said, reaching down to touch her shoulder. “I understand. You thought you were doing the right.”
“Don’t tell me what I think!” She angrily swatted his hand away. “You don’t know what I’m thinking! You never did!”
Carlos felt something cold wrap itself around his heart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Then what do you mean?” Anger seethed within her eyes as she glared at him. “Come here to gloat, tell us…tell me…that this is pointless? Now we’re supposed to give up, let your friends do what they want?” Turning away, she gazed out the window at the distant starbridge. “God, I wished we’d destroyed that thing. It would have made things a lot more simple.”
Her words stung, yet Carlos knew he had to be steady. If he couldn’t deal with her on her own terms, then at least he could be truthful. “You wouldn’t have done that. It was a bluff. We know that now.”
“Oh, hell,” Parson murmured. “Hawk talked, didn’t he? You forced him to—”
“We didn’t force him to do anything,” Carlos said, “but, yeah, he talked. He told us that your aim was never to destroy the starbridge, only to shut it down for a while.” He allowed himself a slight smile. “You know how much depends on it. If it’s gone…”
“Coyote becomes isolated again, and Earth is left to rot.” Pushing himself off a bulkhead, Parson floated across the compartment toward him. “But I know this world, Mr. President.”
“Carlos…let’s skip the formalities, shall we? And believe me, I know Coyote better than you do.”
“Sure, but somehow you forgot what this place is about.” Parson shook his head. “It’s not supposed to be another Earth. We can’t allow it to go the same way. I’ve seen what’s happening down there. Forests leveled, native habitats demolished…”
“The chirreep threatened with extinction.” Susan’s voice trembled. “They’re an intelligent species, Papa. They’ve got a language, a social structure…”
“I was the first one to find them, remember?” Carlos raised a hand. “Look, I agree we need to find some sort of balance, but we still need to—”
“Nice talk,” Parson said, “but that’s all it is, right? Talk, and more talk. But the fact remains that, when you were president, you negotiated a trade agreement with the EA that allowed them to establish a colony on Albion. And after you left office, you made a private deal with Janus, invested in…”
“They needed local investment so they could build a viable colony.” Carlos felt his face grow warm. “It wasn’t about making money. It was about putting up homes for everyone who comes here.”
“Sure.” Susan looked at him askance. “And profit never entered anyone’s mind.”
“If it builds homes, why not?” He gazed at her in disbelief. “What would you have us do? Drop a thousand colonists on New Brighton, let them fend for themselves? That’s what the Union did when they established Shuttlefield.” He pointed to Castro. “Ask your pal what that was like. He should know…he was lieutenant governor.”
“Would it help if I admit I was wrong?” Castro replied.
“It might.” Carlos looked at Parson again. “So what choice do you have? Social collectivism? We tried that already. See where it led us.”
“Study history, and see where unchecked capitalism leads you.”
“Then we tighten the rules.” Carlos let out his breath. “Look, this is a frontier. We’re making this up as we go along. You want to protect the chirreep, save the forests, control population growth? Fine. I’m with you. But you have to work within the system, not…”
“We tried that already, Papa.” Susan’s voice was quiet. “You weren’t listening.”
“I’m listening now.” He turned to her again. “If you were trying to get my attention and your mother’s, then you succeeded. You believe something’s gone wrong? Then help us fix it.”
Parson folded his arms together. “Easy for you to say, now that you’ve got our back against the wall.”
“I would’ve said the same thing even if you were serious about destroying the starbridge and were able to do so.” Carlos shook his head. “You can’t win this way…but if you do it my way, then you’ll get a fair hearing, I promise. And I’ve been authorized to tell you that no charges will be filed against you if you agree to stop this right now.”
“You’d do that?” Parson remained distrustful.
“If you agree to my conditions, yes. Or you can wait for Manny to crack the password.”
“Actually, I accomplished this sixty-two seconds ago.” Castro turned toward Jonas. “2EZ4U2GET…a rather clever mnemonic. Your crewman has a rare sense of humor.”
Jonas gaped at him. “And you didn’t tell us until now?”
“I wanted to hear his proposal.” Castro looked at Parson. “I think we should accept their terms. There’s no point in continuing this action.”
Susan studied her father for a long moment, her expression stoical. Then, reluctantly, she nodded. Parson sighed. “All right,” he murmured. “I know when we’re beaten. It’s all yours, Mr. President.”
“Thank you.” This time, Carlos didn’t try to hide his relief. He gave his daughter a grateful smile. “If you’ll patch me through to the Drake, please.”
With a resigned shrug, Parson pushed himself over to the com panel. Susan went to Jonas, and the operations chief said nothing as
she used a penknife to cut the tape binding his wrists together. Carlos turned toward Castro. “I appreciate your judgment. That was…”
A shrill beep-beep-beep from the ceiling speaker. They barely had time to react before there was a silent light through the windows. Whipping around, Carlos saw that it came from the direction of the distant torus.
“Starbridge’s opening.” Jonas ripped the rest of the tape from his wrists, then unbuckled his seat belt and propelled himself across the compartment. “Something’s coming through the wormhole.”
“The Magellan.” Carlos glanced at the nearest chronometer: 2300:03. Right on time, and not a moment too soon. “Jon, can you get me through to the Drake?”
“Affirmative. You’re on.”
Carlos tapped his headset, heard the welcome hum of carrier-wave static. “Drake, this is Coyote Gatehouse, President Montero speaking. Do you copy?”
“Magellan is through,” Jonas said.
Carlos looked up at a viewscreen above the windows. A camera on the torus captured an image of streamlined shape almost identical to the Drake. The arriving starship was moving quickly away from the ring, its fusion engines glowing hot against the cold darkness.
“We copy, Gatehouse.” Ana’s voice. “Good to hear you again. What is your situation, please? Over.”
“EAS Magellan, this is Starbridge Coyote.” Jonas had found a headset and pulled it on. “Do you copy? Over.”
“Situation good, Captain.” Carlos cupped a hand over his left ear so that he wouldn’t be distracted by the chatter with the Magellan. “We’ve resolved the problem, and the…” He stole a glance at his daughter, amended his thoughts. “Our friends have agreed to release control of the station. Over.”
Silence. He heard nothing for a moment. Then he overheard Jonas: “That’s not necessary, Captain. The hijackers have agreed to surrender. You don’t have to—”
“What’s going on?” Parson demanded.
“I don’t know.” Carlos was just as baffled as he was. He glanced at the screen again. The Magellan was almost out of sight, yet judging from its position, it seemed as if it was heading not toward Coyote, but instead the direction of the Gatehouse. “Drake, this is Gatehouse. Do you copy? Over.”