Coyote Destiny
Page 1
C O Y O T E D E S T I N Y
Two-time Hugo Award winner Allen Steele continues the Coyote saga with two perilous journeys undertaken at the same time—one to save a hero from oblivion, and the other to stop a terrorist from unleashing mass destruction…
Although Coyote’s starbridge has been rebuilt, it remains cut off from Earth for reasons still unknown. No ships from humankind’s homeworld have come through hyperspace, and the alien hjadd have forbidden the citizens of Coyote to journey to Earth.
Then a ship unexpectedly arrives, and the inhabitants of Coyote are simultaneously hopeful and wary. The lone passenger brings news from Earth—both good and bad.
The good news is that there was a survivor of the long-ago explosion of the Robert E. Lee and he is living still on Earth, in the ruined city called Boston. The bad news is that the person responsible for that act of terrorism is also still alive—and somewhere on Coyote.
So two groups of settlers set out on vastly different and equally dangerous quests. One group returns to Earth and makes a treacherous journey to Boston to contact the survivor, while the other treks across Coyote to find and capture the terrorist in a race against time—and certain death.
Books by Allen M. Steele
Novels
THE JERICHO ITERATION
THE TRANQUILLITY ALTERNATIVE
OCEANSPACE
CHRONOSPACE
NEAR-SPACE SERIES
ORBITAL DECAY
CLARKE COUNTY, SPACE
LUNAR DESCENT
LABYRINTH OF NIGHT
A KING OF INFINITE SPACE
COYOTE TRILOGY
COYOTE
COYOTE RISING
COYOTE FRONTIER
COYOTE CHRONICLES
COYOTE HORIZON
COYOTE DESTINY
COYOTE UNIVERSE
SPINDRIFT
GALAXY BLUES
Collections
RUDE ASTRONAUTS
ALL-AMERICAN ALIEN BOY
SEX AND VIOLENCE IN ZERO-G: THE COMPLETE “NEAR SPACE” STORIES
AMERICAN BEAUTY
THE LAST SCIENCE FICTION WRITER
Nonfiction
PRIMARY IGNITION: ESSAYS 1997-2001
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This is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2010 by Allen M. Steele.
Map illustrations by Ron Miller and Allen M. Steele.
Calendar illustration by Allen M. Steele.
Text design by Tiffany Estreicher.
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FIRST EDITION: March 2010
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Steele, Allen M.
Coyote destiny : a novel of interstellar civilization / Allen M. Steele.— 1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-441-01821-5
1. Space colonies—Fiction. 2. Interplanetary voyages—Fiction. 3. Terrorists—Fiction. I. Title
PS3569.T338425C6923 2010
813'.54—dc22
2009047799
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For Horace “Ace” Marchant
Dramatis Personae
Prologue
Book Three: Sons and Daughters
PART ONE: The Corps of Exploration
PART TWO: Traveler’s Rest
PART THREE: The House of the Talus
PART FOUR: Defiance
Book Four: The Homecoming
PART FIVE: The Lost City
PART SIX: King Philip’s Lighthouse
PART SEVEN: Terra Concorde
PART EIGHT: Shall We Gather by the River?
Coyote Calendar
Timeline: Coyote History
Acknowledgments
Montero Family
Jorge Montero II, Lt.—officer, Coyote Federation Corps of Exploration
Susan Montero—naturalist, University of New Florida; Jorge’s mother
Jonathan Parson, Col.—chief of staff, Corps of Exploration; Jorge’s father
Wendy Gunther—former president, Coyote Federation; Jorge’s grandmother
Thompson Family
Hawk Thompson (a.k.a. the chaaz’maha)—Sa’Tong spiritual leader
Melissa Sanchez—member, Order of the Eye; Hawk’s partner
Inez Sanchez, Corp. (a.k.a. Inez Torres)—member, Corps of Exploration; Hawk’s daughter
Sawyer Lee, Gen.—commanding officer, Corps of Exploration
Greg Dillon, Sgt.—member, Corps of Exploration
Hugh McAlister, Capt.—pilot, CFS Gerardus Mercator
Charles Edgar—president, Coyote Federation
Chris Levin—former chief proctor, Liberty
Tomas Conseco—Wendy Gunther’s aide
Manuel Castro—Savant; Coyote Federation diplomatic liaison
Sergio Vargas—pilot, WHS The Legend of Simon Bolivar
Dominic Treece—Bolivar copilot
Kim Jewel—veterinarian
Jake Turner—stockyard employee
Kyle Olson—stockyard owner
Gary Smith—Olson’s crony
Roland Black—commander, First Massachusetts Regiment, Provisional Army of the United Republic of America
Sam, Ted, Morse—Boston residents
Gerald Copperfield—mayor of Manuelito
Emma Stanley—chief proctor, Manuelito
Amy Atkins—lighthouse keeper
Erin Atkins—Amy’s daughter
Jasahajahd Taf Sa-Fhadda—hjadd First Speaker of the Talus High Council
The chaaz’braan—askanta Great Teacher of Sa’Tong
PROLOGUE
WHS THE LEGEND OF SIMON BOLIVAR—JULY 14, 2352
From eighty kilometers, Starbridge Earth was a small silver ring floating at its Lagrange point near the Moon, its surface reflecting the light of the distant sun. A portal to the galaxy, it seemed as if it were impatiently waiting for the stars to wake up and take not
ice.
“Does anyone know what’s going on?” Seated on the left side of the Bolivar’s narrow cockpit, Captain Sergio Vargas listened to his headset as he studied the starbridge through the wraparound windows. Less than a minute ago, the ring had been filled by the coruscating flash of multispectral light, an indication that the wormhole had opened. Sergio was expecting to see a ship emerge from the ring. Instead, the wormhole had abruptly collapsed, without a vessel coming through.
“Negative, Bolivar.” Although the traffic controller aboard the nearby gatehouse remained calm, Vargas could make out other voices in the background; it wasn’t hard to tell that they were as confused as he was. “Stand by, please. We’re still assessing the situation.”
“We copy, Trafco. Bolivar standing by.” Vargas tapped the mike wand to silence it, then looked over at his copilot. “Any ideas?”
“Haven’t a clue.” Dominic Treece was busy at his console, making sure that the freighter was keeping station. The Legend of Simon Bolivar was scheduled to be the next ship to go through the starbridge. Two other vessels were also in a holding pattern, each 160 kilometers apart from the others; if the Bolivar slipped out of position, the gatehouse controller would move the other ships to the front of the line. The delay would only be a few hours, but Sergio was acutely aware of the thirty-four refugees crammed into a passenger module within the freighter’s hold. Most of them had never been in space before; his cargo master had already reported that many had become ill and that the module was reeking of vomit.
“It’s probably nothing.” Even as he said this, though, Vargas couldn’t shake the premonition that something had gone seriously wrong. This would be the third time he’d taken the Bolivar through the starbridge, and usually everything went like clockwork. Once Bolivar’s AI was slaved to its counterpart aboard the gatehouse, the matter was out of his hands; the quantum comps would do the rest, automatically maneuvering the freighter until it reached the starbridge, then waiting until the precise moment when the wormhole opened and the ship would be launched through the event horizon for the harrowing, five-second jaunt to 47 Ursae Majoris.
With something as delicate as this, nothing was left to chance. Which was why AIs performed the fiendishly complex calculations; humans simply couldn’t be trusted to complete a task that had such a low threshold for error. As a result, in the hundreds of times ships had gone through the starbridges since they’d been built, never once had there been an abort, let alone a major accident.
Until now.
“Something’s wrong.” Treece glanced across the center console at his captain. “Maybe they don’t know either, or maybe they’re not telling us, but…”
“Gatehouse to Bolivar, do you read?”
“Hold on.” Vargas held up a hand, admonishing Dom to be quiet, then cracked his mike again. “Bolivar here. What’s going on?”
“We have…” A moment’s pause, just long enough for Vargas and Treece to share a glance. “There’s been a major malfunction on the other side of the interface. We don’t yet know the exact cause, but there appears to have been an explosion aboard the inbound vessel.”
Vargas felt his heart skip a bit. “Please repeat, gatehouse. Did you say there was an explosion aboard the other ship?”
Another pause. When the traffic controller spoke again, there was a tremor in his voice that Sergio had never heard before. “Affirmative, Bolivar. Last communication received from Starbridge Coyote stated that there was an explosion aboard the Lee just as it was crossing the event horizon.”
Before Vargas could respond, Treece tapped his own mike. “Gatehouse, please say again…do you mean the Robert E. Lee?”
It was a minor breach of protocol for the copilot to address Trafco without his captain’s permission, but at the moment no one was about to make an issue of it. “Affirmative. The inbound ship was the Lee.”
The fact that controller referred to the Lee in the past tense wasn’t lost on either man. Vargas and Treece stared at each other, neither of them able to speak. The CFSS Robert E. Lee wasn’t just the flagship of the Coyote Federation’s fledgling navy; it was also one of the largest starships in existence, rivaled only by its sister vessel, the EASS Magellan. Its commanding officer, Anastasia Tereshkova, was almost a legend among spacers. Not only that, but there was no telling how many crewmen and passengers were aboard. Dozens, perhaps as many as a hundred…
“Christ preserve them,” Treece murmured under his breath, his right hand forming a crucifix across his shoulders and chest.
Vargas wasn’t a practicing Catholic, but he was also tempted to cross himself. “Do we have confirmation of this, gatehouse?” he asked.
“Negative. We have received no further word from either Starbridge Coyote or the Lee. All communications have been cut off at the source.” Another pause. “Please remain online. The CO would like to speak with you.”
Treece turned to him as Vargas muted the comlink. “‘Cut off at the source’? What does that mean?”
“I’m afraid to know.” The pilot felt something clutch at the pit of his stomach. Although the wormhole was periodically expanded wide enough for ships to pass through, it never completely closed. Instead, a tiny gap into hyperspace, no more than a few millimeters in diameter, was constantly kept open, thereby allowing a steady stream of laser pulses to be sent back and forth between the small space stations that served as gatehouses for the starbridges. In this way, near-instant communications between Earth and Coyote was continually maintained.
If Starbridge Earth was receiving no hyperlink transmissions from 47 Ursae Majoris, forty-six light-years away, then it meant that something had happened to Starbridge Coyote itself. And if that were the case…
Vargas did his best to remain calm. For the last several months, following the political meltdown of the Western Hemisphere Union, inhabitants of North and South America had joined the mobs of Europeans and Asians fleeing Earth in the aftermath of global environmental collapse. Although the WHU had extensive settlements on the Moon, Mars, and the satellites of the outer planets, they were already overcrowded; however, it wasn’t until only recently that its citizens had been able to travel to Coyote. The Union’s stubborn refusal to ratify the United Nations treaty recognizing Coyote’s independence had prevented free trade or immigration, let alone the establishment of Union colonies. But when the Proletariat was overthrown, its Patriarchs and Matriarchs either executed or sent into hiding, those sanctions effectively became null and void. The cities of the Western Hemisphere Union were in flames, their individual governments struggling to contain the anarchy that had replaced social collectivism.
An interim agreement between the Coyote Federation and what remained of the Union had allowed for refugees to make their way to 47 Uma. When that happened, every person able to do so crowded aboard any space vessel capable of making the trip to Starbridge Earth. The Legend of Simon Bolivar was just one of dozens of Union Astronautica vessels that had been hastily refitted to carry immigrants to Coyote. Although the freighter had been designed to do little more than haul cargo from Earth to Highgate, the international space colony at Lagrange Five, it was capable of making hyperspace jumps once its navigation system was retrofitted with a starbridge key. So far, the Bolivar had transported nearly 70 people to Coyote; once this round-trip was completed, the total would be 102, almost as many as had been aboard the URSS Alabama, the first starship to reach the new world.
To be sure, this represented only the tiniest fraction of the multitudes seeking sanctuary. Nonetheless, Vargas took considerable pride in the fact that he’d saved so many lives. Only a couple of days ago, though, he’d promised his crew that this would be the last time that they’d return to Earth. On their next flight out, their own families would be aboard as well, then the Bolivar would remain at 47 Ursae Majoris once and for all.
But now it appeared that he might have waited too long.
“Bolivar, this is Gatehouse Command.” A new voice came through Sergio’s
headset, interrupting his thoughts. “With whom am I speaking, please?”
Vargas prodded his mike. “Command, this is Captain Sergio Vargas. I’m trying to get confirmation that…”
“Captain, I have bad news.” Something in the way the CO spoke made Vargas brace for the worst. “For reasons unknown, we’ve lost communications with Starbridge Coyote. We have reason to believe that the starbridge itself has been destroyed.”
From beside him, Vargas heard a sharp intake of breath. He shot Dom a stern look, silently warning him to shut up, then he leaned forward in his seat. “We copy, Command. I…” He hesitated, not quite knowing what to say. “I understand. That means the jump is aborted, doesn’t it?”
This was obvious, of course, but he had to hear the words from the CO himself, just to make sure there was no mistake. “Affirmative, Captain,” the CO replied. “We are requesting that all outbound vessels return to Highgate, where their passengers and crew will be asked to disembark. We will inform you if the situation changes, but for the time being, Starbridge Earth is no longer operational. Please acknowledge.”
“We copy, gatehouse.” Vargas let out his breath, fell back in his seat. From the corner of his eye, he saw his copilot slam a fist against his armrest. “Thank you for telling us. I appreciate…”
“I’m not finished yet. We have a request to make of you.” A slight pause. “According to our instruments, something came through the starbridge just a few moments before the wormhole collapsed. It’s transmitting a wireless signal identical to that of an emergency transponder, and we have reason to believe that it may be a lifeboat.”
Vargas sat up straight again. He glanced at Treece; the copilot was already bending closer to the console between their seats to examine the lidar screen. “Have you made contact with it yet?”
“Negative. There’s been no verbal response to our hails. However, our remote imaging leads us to believe that it may be a lifeboat launched from the Lee.”
“I have it,” Treece murmured. “Bearing X-ray 42.1, Yankee -11.5, Zulu 01.1. Distance 51.4 kilometers and drifting…”