Coyote Destiny (42 page)

“Remain on duty until relieved. Sure.” Sawyer smiled. “When does your shift end, Sergeant?”

“Zero-dark hours, sir.”

Sawyer made a show of checking his watch, even though he already knew what time it was. “It’s 2502 now. Your relief is due in about two hours.” He gave them a wink. “I think you’ve got better things to do between now and then than stand around in the cold. In fact, I’ve already taken the liberty of paying your bar tab at Lew’s Cantina.”

The sergeant stared at him. “Sir?”

“Go get a drink, Sarge. You, too, Corporal. Consider that an order.” Sawyer jingled the keys in his hand. “I’ll lock up behind us. So long as you’re back by midnight, no one will be the wiser.”

The two blueshirts gave each other an uncertain glance, then the sergeant looked back and forth along the street. There was no one else in sight; this time of night, the historic district was deserted, with only a few lights glimmering in the windows of Government House to show that anyone was around. “Yes, sir,” he said at last. “Thank you.”

The two men slung their rifles across their soldiers and walked down the street, heading for the cantina. Jonathan watched them go, then moved to Sawyer’s side. “You realize, of course, they’re going to get in a lot of trouble for this,” he murmured.

“I know . . . but not half as much as we will.” Sawyer shifted through the keys until he found the ones for the Grange’s front door. “If you want to change your mind, now’s the time.”

Jon hesitated, then slowly let out his breath. “I got to Coyote in the first place by disobeying orders. Might as well end my second military career the same way.” He looked at his son. “You? This was your idea. Still want to go through with it?”

Jorge grinned as he teetered back and forth on his feet.
The kid’s plastered,
Sawyer thought.
In the morning, he’ll probably regret this.
Again, he found himself wondering why Jorge had said so little about what had happened on Earth. He didn’t know for certain, but he had a distinct feeling that there was another reason, besides his grandmother’s death, that he’d put away so much ale at the cantina. Maybe it had something to do with Inez’s decision to stay with her father . . . ?

“Why not?” Jorge shrugged. “Far as I’m concerned, I’m just carrying on a family tradition.”

“Defying authority.” Sawyer chuckled as he marched up the steps. “Your grandfather would be proud.” Jorge gave him a sharp look; although he didn’t respond, Sawyer realized that he’d hit a nerve with that remark.

The front door opened with a soft creak, and Sawyer felt around until he located the light switch. The museum was much the way he’d last seen it only a couple of weeks ago, only this time the display tables had been moved aside to make room for an ornately carved blackwood casket that rested upon a low pedestal. The casket lid was shut, and it had been draped with the Federation flag, with two more flags hangings from posts at each end of the pedestal. A red carpet had been laid down the center of the floor; gilded ropes separated the casket from the rest of the room. As a final touch, Wendy Gunther’s official presidential portrait had been placed on an easel behind the casket.

“Oh, god,” Jon muttered. “She always hated that picture.” He paused, then added, “In fact, she would’ve hated all of this.”

“Well, let’s see that she doesn’t have to endure it any longer,” Sawyer said. “Call Susan and Tomas, tell them we’re ready.”

Turning away from the casket, Jon pulled a phone from his pocket. He’d already spoken with his wife, calling her from the cantina to tell her of the plan. By then, Sawyer figured, Susan and Tomas would have returned home to fetch the lorry she and Jon still owned from the days they’d operated a wilderness trekking company and had used the vehicle to transport canoes and kayaks.

As Jon talked to Susan, Sawyer pulled out his own phone. He had friends in the Corps who owed him a favor or two; time to call in his markers. He had little doubt that he could have a Corps gyro fueled and ready to fly from the aerodrome within the hour, no questions asked. There would be hell to pay later, of course, but . . .

Looking around, he realized that Jorge was no longer beside them. The young man had walked across the room; his back turned to Sawyer, he was gazing at one of the display cases. And quietly chuckling to himself.

Curious, Sawyer delayed making the call. He strolled over to Jorge, and saw what the lieutenant was studying. Within the glass sarcophagus was the cat-skin kayak that his grandparents had used to explore the Great Equatorial River, long before he was born.

“What’s so funny?” Sawyer asked.

Jorge looked at him, and Sawyer saw that his cheeks were wet with tears. Yet there was a smile on his face, and there was no sadness in his eyes.

“I just . . .” Still grinning, Jorge reached up to wipe away the tears. “I just thought of something.” He nodded to the kayak. “If we’re going to send my grandmother away, she might as well go in style.”

For a moment, Sawyer didn’t know what he was talking about. Then he understood, and laughed out loud.

 

 

It was still dark when a Corps gyro landed on a sandy beach on
New Florida’s southern coast. There were no settlements on this part of the island, just above the equator, a few miles west of Miller Creek. So no one observed the aircraft as it touched down a few dozen yards from the Great Equatorial River, or saw the figures who emerged from its rear cargo compartment.

Jorge took a moment to look around. Bear was beginning to set upon the western horizon, its silver rings touching the dark expanse of the river. To the east, the first light of the new day had tinted the sky with hues of red and orange. The tide would be receding soon, but he still had a few minutes in which to savor the predawn morning.

“This is where your grandmother said good-bye to your grandfather.” Susan had come up behind him; she, too, was looking out at the river. “They’d eventually see each other again, of course, but all the same, it was the moment in their lives when they parted from each other.” She paused. “You picked a good place to do this.”

Jorge nodded as he turned to look back at the gyro. He’d sobered up over the last few hours, but there wasn’t much that he felt like saying. Instead, he watched as his father and Sawyer unloaded his grandparents’ kayak from the gyro. They carried it to the river’s edge and put it down, its bow in the shallows and its stern on the sand.

“I sort of thought it was appropriate,” he said at last. “Besides, no one ever comes down here. No one will know.” Then he smiled. “You were here, too, weren’t you?”

“I suppose you could say that. I just hadn’t made my grand entrance yet.” Susan absently nudged a piece of driftwood with her foot, then bent down to pick it up. “C’mon, let’s build a fire. It’ll help keep us warm . . . and we’ll need it for the rest, too.”

By then, Tomas had come over from the gyro, along with its pilot. As the four of them began gathering dry wood that had washed up on the beach, Jonathan and Sawyer went about erecting the kayak mast and raising its sail. Before long, a small heap of driftwood lay upon the shore; Sawyer found a firestarter in the gyro, and he used it to set the stack ablaze.

The six of them—Jorge, his parents, Sawyer, Tomas, and the Corps lieutenant whom Sawyer had sworn to secrecy—stood around the bonfire, quietly passing a jug of bearshine as they watched Bear go down. The sky was still full of stars, but it wouldn’t be long before the sun would make its appearance. They finished the jug, then Jonathan dropped it on the ground next to the fire.

“All right, then,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

They walked together back to the gyro, and as Susan, Sawyer, Tomas, and the pilot stood on both sides of its cargo hatch, Jorge and his father climbed into the aircraft. Wendy’s body was no longer in the casket; it wasn’t needed, so they’d left it behind, instead using the flag that had been draped over it as her funeral shroud. Carefully, with Jonathan nestling her head and shoulders within his hands and Jorge carrying her feet, they lifted Wendy from the floor of the aircraft and gently unloaded her from the gyro. Once she was out of the aircraft, the others came forward and, placing their hands beneath her, helped Jorge and Jonathan carry the body to the beach.

No one spoke as they laid Wendy within the kayak, making sure that she was in the center of the small boat, with her head toward the bow and her feet to the stern. They stepped back from the boat and stood silently for a few minutes. On the way there, they’d agreed that no speeches would be made. Wendy wouldn’t have wanted any last words; the presence of her family and friends was sufficient testimonial.

After a little while, Susan turned away from them. Walking over to the bonfire, she bent down and pulled a burning branch from the embers. Bringing it back to the kayak, she started to lower it . . . then she hesitated and turned to Jorge.

“Here,” she whispered, offering the branch to him. “You should be the one.”

Jorge hesitated. He looked at his father; Jonathan quietly nodded, as did Tomas and Sawyer. So he took the branch from his mother and, stepping closer to the kayak, let its flame touch the edge of the flag near Wendy’s feet.

The flag caught fire at once. Jorge dropped the branch into the water, then he and his parents bent down and pushed the kayak into the water. The morning breeze caught the sail, billowed it outward; as the fire reached for Wendy’s body, the kayak floated out into the Great Equatorial River.

Jorge silently watched as the small boat moved away from the shore, the body it carried becoming a funeral pyre upon the water. Her remains would soon become one with the Great Equatorial River, flowing forever around the world, a minute-yet-significant contribution to its long seasonal cycle of life, death, and rebirth. In this way, Wendy Gunther would become Coyote.

Tiny sparks rose from the kayak, carried upward by the breeze to meet with the fading stars. Looking up at them, Jorge sought out a small point of light. There it was, low on the horizon, just below Vega. He couldn’t see Earth, but he knew that it was there.

He found himself smiling. He, too, had come home.

Somewhere out in the marshes, a boid cried out, a chilling cry against the darkness that soon became quiet. As Wendy’s ashes were lifted into the morning sky, a new day came to Coyote.

 

 

 

 

JULY 5, 2070
—URSS
Alabama
departs from Earth for 47 Ursae Majoris and Coyote.

APRIL-DECEMBER 2096
—United Republic of America falls. Treaty of Havana cedes control of North America to the Western Hemisphere Union.

JUNE 16, 2256
—WHSS
Seeking Glorious Destiny Among the Stars for Greater Good of Social Collectivism
leaves Earth for Coyote.

JANUARY 4, 2258—
WHSS
Traveling Forth to Spread Social Collectivism to New Frontiers
leaves Earth for Coyote.

DECEMBER 10, 2258
—WHSS
Long Journey to the Galaxy in the Spirit of Social Collectivism
leaves Earth for Coyote.

AUGUST 23, 2259
—WHSS
Magnificent Voyage to the Stars in Search of Social Collectivism
leaves Earth for Coyote.

MARCH 4, 2260
—WHSS
Spirit of Social Collectivism Carried to the Stars
leaves Earth for Coyote.

AUGUST 2270-JULY 2279
—The Savant Genocide; 35,000 on Earth killed; mass extermination of Savants, with the survivors fleeing the inner solar system.

APRIL 2288
—First sighting of Spindrift by telescope array on the lunar farside.

JUNE 1, 2288
—EASS
Galileo
leaves Earth for rendezvous with Spindrift; contact lost with Earth soon thereafter.

JANUARY 2291
—EASS
Galileo
reaches Spindrift. First contact.

SEPTEMBER 18, 2291
—EASS
Columbus
leaves for Coyote.

FEBRUARY 1, 2344
—CFSS
Robert E. Lee
returns to Earth, transporting survivors of the
Galileo
expedition.

APRIL-JULY 2352
—Collapse of Western Hemisphere Union; mass exodus of refugees from Earth, halted by destruction of Starbridge Coyote.

 

 

AUGUST 5, 2300
—URSS
Alabama
arrives at 47 Ursae Majoris system.

SEPTEMBER 7, 2300 / URIEL 47, C.Y. 01
—Colonists arrive on Coyote; later known as “First Landing Day.”

URIEL 52, C.Y. 02
—First child born on Coyote: Susan Gunther Montero.

GABRIEL 18, C.Y. 03
—WHSS
Glorious Destiny
arrives. Original colonists flee Liberty; Western Hemisphere Union occupation of Coyote begins.