Coyote - A Novel of Interstellar Exploration Part 21

"I... I...".

"Dammit, Wendy, what have you told him?"

Tears spilled from the corners of my eyes. "I... I haven't... he doesn't know."

"Are you sure? You're haven't said... ?"

"No! Kuni, I swear, I didn't tell him anything... I"

"Shh! Keep it down." She gave me a hard shake. "Okay, I believe you. Now, next question... do you want to have this child? I mean, do you really want to go all the way with this?"

"Yes." I looked her straight in the eye. "Yes, I do."

Which was a lie. Or at least it wasn't the complete truth. The truth of the matter, which I couldn't admit even to myself, was that I wasn't sure of anything, save the fact that I didn't want an abortion.Yet I knew that if I hedged in any way, Kuniko would make good on her threat to run into town and alert the Prefects. Then we'd all be disgraced; the guys would stand trial for theft and probably spend hard time in the stockade, and the truth would inevitably come out that I was pregnant.

Even if I was allowed to give birth-and the Council would have to overturn Colony Law to give me that privilege-I'd doubtless be shunned by the community.

Carlos's reputation would be ruined, and no one would ever again trust Chris, David, or Barry.

I lied to protect my friends because I loved them. At least that's what I told myself. I may have even believed it.

Kuniko regarded me for a few moments, as if trying to decide for herself whether I was being honest. At last she nodded. "All right, then. I suppose that doesn't leave me with much choice."

She walked to the front door. For a second I thought she was about to return to town and alert the blueshirts; I raised my hand to stop her, then stopped when she opened the door, reached outside, and picked up the backpack she had left on the deck just outside. A small bedroll was strapped across the top.

Shutting the door behind her, she turned to face me again.

"Seeing that you haven't told anyone," she said quietly, "you're going to need someone to take care of you."

"Kuniko... I"

She shook her head. "Sorry, kid. That's the way it is." Without another glance in my direction, she slung the pack across her shoulder and walked past me to the back door. "Let's go tell your boyfriend he's got another pa.s.senger."

Needless to say, Carlos wasn't pleased. Whatever he'd imagined his grand adventure to be like, it hadn't involved being chaperoned. There was a brief face-off between him and Kuniko on the dock; he tried to talk her out of it, but Kuniko remained adamant: either she went with us, or I would return to the town with her, and she'd alert the Prefects. As with me, she refused to give him any other options.

By then the sun was coming up. We didn't have much time left. Carlos cast me a sullen glare, then looked back at Kuniko. "Okay, whatever," he murmured, and impatiently motioned toward the Pleiades.

"You'll ride with Chris and David."

"Thank you." Kuniko handed her pack to David, who reluctantly took it and shoved it into the canoe next to the rest of the belongings. Chris was already seated in the stern; he made no effort to help Kuniko climb aboard. She looked out of place, a grown woman scrunched into a narRllen M. Steels row boat between two teenage boys, but she managed to maintain her dignity.

Carlos refused to look at me as he clambered into the stern of the Orion. He reached back to untie one of the lines holding us to the dock; in the bow, Barry did the same. "Cast off," he said, then used the b.u.t.t of his paddle to push us away.

Slowly, the Orion drifted out into the shallow creek. Carlos turned the long canoe to starboard, then dipped his paddle into the brown water and guided it into the current. The Pleiades fell in behind us as we pa.s.sed the dock; David and Chris were scowling as they swung their oars, yet I was startled to see a broad grin on Kuniko's face. She caught my eye and gave me a wink."She'd better pull her own weight," Carlos said quietly, "or I'll put her off and make her walk home."

"Oh, no, you won't." I looked over my shoulder to give him the coldest stare I could manage. "Do that, and I'll never sleep with you again."

That shut him up. Truth was, Carlos had never slept with me; what we had done together had been in a few stolen minutes behind the grange. Yet although I was speaking figuratively, he accepted it as literal truth. And Barry, as always, remained quiet, his back turned toward us.

I moved around a little, trying to settle my cramped legs into a position where they wouldn't lose circulation, and tucked my hands beneath my armpits against the morning cool. A light fog lay above Sand Creek, dissipating as the sun touched the waters with its warmth. To the right, I could see the rooftops of town. Within a few minutes, they disappeared behind a thicket of spider brush, and we were all alone.

We had left Liberty. Ahead lay the wilderness.

The boys were in a hurry to put as much distance between us and town as they possibly could. They paddled constantly, seldom giving themselves a moment to rest. It was only a matter of time before Barry's parents or Chris and David's mother wised up to the fact that their sons had run off. Nor would Kim Newell be reticent about sounding the alarm; Carlos didn't tell us then, but he'd already informed his sister what he was planning to do and sworn her to silence until we were gone.

So they denied themselves a break until midday, when we reached the shallow sandbar marking the junction of Levin Creek. This marked the farthest point anyone had previously ventured south of Liberty; had we chosen to venture down the narrow tributary, we would have soon come to the place where Chris and David's father was killed. The brothers weren't thrilled to be there, but Carlos chose the place for us to drop anchor while we had a quick lunch.

The day had become warm and humid; David and Barry had long since taken off their sweat-stained shirts, and Carlos and Chris took the opportunity to remove their own. I had shucked my sweater and desperately wanted to peel down to my halter, but somehow it didn't feel right. Kuniko must have sensed this; without comment, she unb.u.t.toned her shirt and pulled it off, revealing the bikini bra beneath it. Chris, Barry, and Carlos pretended nonchalance, but David openly leered at her. She stared back at him until he turned red and looked away. Kuniko gave me an encouraging smile, and I no longer felt quite as bashful; off went my shirt, and Barry splashed David with his paddle when he tried to give me the eye.

When we were through eating, everyone started to tuck away the food wrappers, but then Carlos had another idea. He collected them, then got out of the canoe, waded ash.o.r.e and littered the banks of Levin Creek with our trash. "When someone finds them," he said, walking back through the shallows, "they'll think we went that way."

The others were impressed by his ingenuity, but Kuniko shook her head. "Nice thought, but what makes you think they'll come after us by water?" Their smiles faded as she wiped her mouth with a bandanna.

"All they have to do is launch a shuttle and follow us downstream." She casually gazed back in the direction of town. "In fact, we should be seeing them any minute now."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Carlos asked. He was still in the water, standing between the two canoes. "All this effort, just to be carried back by the scruffs of our necks."

Kuniko didn't reply, but I noticed the smug expression on David's face. "They're going to have a hard time flying the shuttles if they can't take off," he said.Kuniko gave him a baffled look. "We removed a little something from the c.o.c.kpits," Carlos explained.

"A small piece of hardware from both ships. If they try to start the engines, the comps will shut 'em down."

"You little idiots." Kuniko stared at him in horror. "Do you know what you've done?"

I couldn't believe it either. The Mayflower and the Plymouth weren't just the colony's sole means of long-range transport; they were also the only way anyone could return to the Alabama. If they were grounded, there was no way we could retrieve the remaining livestock embryos from biostasis. Nor were there any spare parts for any of their Earth- manufactured components, which was why they were so seldom used.

"You think I'm stupid?" David asked, as Kuniko stared to reach for her pack. "Don't worry... they're not damaged."

"Safe as can be, I promise." Yet Carlos was no longer smiling. "What are you looking for?"

Kuniko froze, her hands on the half-open flap of her pack. "None of your business."

Carlos sighed, shook his head. He walked over to where Kuniko was sitting in the Pleiades. "Hand it over."

"I don't know what you're..."

"Carlos," I said, "don't..."

"Wendy, please..." Carlos contined to stare at Kuniko. "C'mon, Doc. You're holding out on us." He cast a meaningful look at Chris and David; they were ready to climb out of the canoe if he said so. He put out his hand. "Fork it over."

Kuniko glared back at him, then her shoulders slumped. Her right hand disappeared within her pack, returned a moment later holding a small plastic unit.

A satphone: once its parabolic antenna was unfolded, it was capable of transmitting a signal to the Alabama as it pa.s.sed over, which in turn would bounce it back to Liberty. The colony had only a dozen satphones; as chief physician, Kuniko was entrusted with one of them.

With no small reluctance, she surrendered the unit to Carlos. He opened it, but didn't deploy the antenna.

"I had to bring it," she said. "That's my job.

I'm a doctor."

"Yeah, well..." Carlos closed the satphone. "You've brought your med kit, too, right?" Kuniko nodded.

"So you shouldn't need this."

"Carlos, don't..."

Then he drew back his arm and pitched the satphone as far as he could throw it.

The little unit sailed upward and away, making an arc above Sand Creek, before plummeting into the water a couple of dozen yards away. It disappeared with a splash which probably disturbed a few fish.

"Yeah!" David pumped his fist in the air. "Another blow for freedom!" Chris gave an uncertain grin.

Barry, taciturn as always, simply looked away.I thought Kuniko would yell at him. Instead, she regarded Carlos with a sympathetic expression; she hadn't even bothered to see which way he had thrown the satphone. "Thank you," she said quietly, and he stared back at her. "I called you an idiot, and you've just proven me right. Now I'm even more valuable to you than I was before."

Before he could ask why, she turned her back to him. "Lunchtime's over. Time to go."

We followed Sand Creek as it meandered through the marshland, sometimes allowing the canoes to drift with the current. Curious swoops followed us from time to time, spying upon' us from high above before gliding away on their broad wings. Once we spotted a creek cat half- concealed within a spider bush, frozen in place while taking a drink, its amber eyes locked upon us. We pa.s.sed a few more tributaries, and gradually the creek grew broader, its banks farther apart.

Late in the afternoon, we came upon a small, shrub-covered island in the middle of the stream. Carlos called back to Chris, asked him if he wanted to pull over for the night. He seemed reluctant, but everyone was exhausted; paddling heavy canoes is hard work even if you're not carrying pa.s.sengers. And the island was a good place to camp; it would be more difficult for boids to get to us if we were surrounded by water. So we beached the canoes on the tip of the island and waded ash.o.r.e, our legs stiff after long hours sitting in the boats.

We had two tents, each large enough for three people. While Barry, Kuniko, and I set them up, David scouted for firewood. Carlos and Chris unloaded the supplies we'd need for the night, then unfolded the map and tried to figure out where we were. The map didn't show much detail, and we were the first to explore this end of Sand Creek; so far as they could tell, we had traveled about twenty miles, and were a little more than halfway to the Eastern Divide.

Not bad for the first day, but Chris believed that we'd probably encounter white water once we reached the Shapiro Pa.s.s; they might be easy to navigate in kayaks, but it would be more difficult for fully laden canoes to get through the shoals. Carlos argued that, if worse came to worst, we could go ash.o.r.e, unload the canoes, and portage them across dry land until we were clear of the rapids.

That was a problem for the next day, though, and we were too tired to think about it then. As the sun went down, David set fire to the small pile of driftwood he'd scavenged. We roasted some salted pork and a few potatoes; after dinner Barry pulled out his guitar while Carlos produced a catskin flask of sourgra.s.s ale and pa.s.sed it around. With our stomachs full and the ale beginning to mellow us, after a while we began to relax. We talked about small things. The night sky was clear, and soon the stars came out; we couldn't yet see Bear, but the leading edge of its ring plane rose above the horizon. Off in the distance, we could hear the boids cry, yet they never got very close to us. It was easy to pretend that we were on a camping trip; no one was worried about what lay before us.

There was only one sour moment, and that was when we went to bed. Just as Barry was gathering water to throw on the fire and Kuniko was packing away the cookware, Carlos stood up and stretched, then announced that he and I were taking the tent on the left. That was news just as much to me as it was to the others; Chris and David glanced at each other, then at Barry, then at Kuniko. What, the four of them were supposed to squeeze into one tent while Carlos and I shared the honeymoon suite? Yet Carlos seemed to a.s.sume that was what I wanted to do; he took me by the hand and, without so much as saying good night to the others, tugged me toward the tent.

Carlos had already laid out his bedroll; as soon as he closed the tent flap behind us, he began pulling off his clothes. s.e.x was the furthest thing from my mind; I could barely keep my eyes open, and all I really wanted to do was sleep. But soon he was half-naked, sitting up on his knees and stroking my back even before I had finished untying my bedroll. In retrospect, I think he'd entertained fantasies of this momentfor many months: him and me, alone in a tent on our own little island...

A couple of days ago, it might have been my fantasy as well. Yet we weren't alone anymore, and the way that he had treated Kuniko irritated me. I was trying to think of a way to turn him down that wouldn't hurt his feelings when someone opened the tent.

I looked around to see Kuniko crawl inside, pulling her bedroll behind her. She said nothing, but the cold glare she gave Carlos caused him to move away from me. Then, without a word, she threw down her bedroll and began to lay it out between us.

From somewhere outside, I heard m.u.f.fled laughter from the Levin brothers; Barry murmured something, and they quickly shut up. Carlos fumed, but he remained quiet; he must have realized any argument was pointless. Kuniko was sleeping with us whether he liked it or not. I favored him with an apologetic smile, and he scowled as he put his shirt back on. Kuniko either didn't notice or pretended not to; she removed her boots, placed them behind her, then pulled aside her blanket and stretched out, separating Carlos from me with her body.

And that was the way we slept, not only that night, but for many nights thereafter. To be quite honest, I preferred it that way.

It wasn't until much later that I learned uuhat had happened back in Liberty.

Our escape wasn't as close as we'd imagined because our absence wasn't immediately noticed. When Sissy Levin awoke to discover that Chris and David weren't home, she a.s.sumed that they had merely gotten up early to go fishing; it wasn't until midmorning that Kim Newell dropped by to ask whether she'd seen Carlos.

More mystified than alarmed, Sissy and Kim found Marie Montero and asked her where her brother had gone. Carlos might have sworn his kid sister to secrecy, but it didn't take much to make the little girl break down in tears and tell the grown-ups what she knew.

In the meantime, Michael Geissal had awakened with a wretched hangover and the realization that he had somehow misplaced his key ring. He was still searching his cabin when Ellery Balis showed up at his place, keys in hand. Two rifles were missing from the armory, and the quartermaster wanted to know why he'd found Mike's keys dangling from the lock. The hapless blueshirt swore up and down that he hadn't visited the grange since the end of his shift the night before, and that he had no idea how he had lost his keys.

Ellery told him that they needed to see Captain Lee; the theft of two rifles was a serious matter. They were headed down Main Street to the mayor's house when they were approached by Sissy and Kim.

Chris, David, and Carlos had run away, the women were in near panic, and that was when Mike remembered Carlos having helped him stagger home from the Cantina.

As it turned out, Captain Lee was already aware that the boys were missing; Jack and Lisa Dreyfus had found the brief note Barry left on his bed. Since the note mentioned me by name, everyone trooped down to Kuniko's house. She and I were long gone, of course, but Kuniko had left behind a letter of her own. Robert Lee found it on her examination table; he read it once, then folded it and put it in his pocket without letting anyone else see it.

Liberty was still a small settlement in those days, so it's no surprise that news traveled fast. From what we were later told, it was Mike's idea to go after us; angry that he had been duped so easily, he rounded up a posse of three other Prefects, and they went to the boathouse with the intent of pursuing us down Sand Creek. Yet as soon they dropped a couple of kayaks in the water, the boats sprang leaks;someone had drilled neat little holes in their hulls.

It wasn't until nearly noon that anyone considered launching a shuttle to go searching for us, and it took another hour for Jud Tinsley to discover that both the Mayflower and the Plymouth had been sabotaged.

About the same time we'd stopped near Levin Creek to have lunch, the Town Council convened in emergency session. Captain Lee did his best to keep everyone calm; he reported the theft of the canoes, guns, and various supplies, but also mentioned that Kuniko's satphone was missing as well. The fact that Dr.

Okada had decided to join us instead of blowing the whistle was a source of much speculation until Lee produced the letter he'd found and read it aloud.

He then gave his opinion that pursuit was out of the question until the missing shuttle components were located; on the other hand, there was some small degree of comfort in the knowledge that a responsible adult was with us, and she had the ability to make contact with Liberty.

By then the satphone lay at the bottom of Sand Creek, but they couldn't have known that. The only thing anyone knew was that five teenagers and an adult had gone off by themselves. After much discussion, the Council decided there was no real reason to worry. It was clearly a case of adolescent rebellion.

We were just some crazy kids sowing our wild oats; in a few days, we'd get tired of our little adventure and come back on our own.

There was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.

UJe rose shortly after d.a.m.n, while the morning oias still cool and a silver mist lingered over the island. A quick breakfast of cold cereal and coffee, then we broke camp and loaded the canoes. I switched places with Barry in the bow of the Orion; his right shoulder was sore from having pulled a muscle the day before, and I was tired of being a pa.s.senger. Although Carlos wasn't saying much to me-he was still miffed about the night before-he didn't object.

Kuniko offered to relieve David in the bow of the Pleiades, but he rudely insisted that he was doing okay.

We cast off with the sun rising to the east and Bear directly above us: a clear morning, with no clouds in sight.

Sand Creek continued to broaden, and within a couple of hours we could no longer see the stream bottom. I had no problem adjusting to the work of hauling the heavy canoe; the current had become swift, and I was able to rest now and then. There was none of the urgency we'd felt the previous day; if anyone from Liberty was coming after us, they would have caught up with us already. So our pace was almost leisurely, and by late morning we were within sight of the Eastern Divide.

Most of New Florida was flat terrain, freshwater marshes only a couple of feet above what pa.s.sed for sea level on Coyote. The Eastern Divide was the sole exception: a long, steep limestone wall looming above the gra.s.slands, formed ages ago by the tectonic fault that ran beneath the East Channel. Over the course of countless years, the creek had eroded a narrow canyon through the wall; it was through the Shapiro Pa.s.s that we'd leave the inland.

I spotted a pair of swoops perched upon a limb of a blackwood. Swoops had always fascinated me, and since we were heading in the same direction they migrated late in autumn, I hoped we'd discover where they spent the winter. But now, staring down at us, they looked less like raptors than vultures antic.i.p.ating their next meal. Feeling a chill, I took a moment to unwrap my sweater from around my waist and put it on again.Shortly after noon, just before we entered Shapiro Pa.s.s, we paddled into a shallow cove to take a lunch break. We nibbled some dried fruit and biscuits and tried to make light conversation, but it was obvious that everyone was nervous about the rapids. When Barry offered to take over the bow, I didn't protest; we'd need someone with white-water experience to get through the pa.s.s.

Kuniko climbed out of the Pleiades, waded to the front of the canoe. "You, too," she said to David, picking up his oar from where he had laid it across the gunnels. "I'll take over from here."

David didn't budge. He looked straight ahead as he gnawed at his biscuit. "No way, b.i.t.c.h..."

She slapped him.

Not all that hard, but enough to knock the half-eaten biscuit from his mouth. "First, don't ever call me that again," she said, in an almost casual tone of voice that'nonetheless had an edge to it. "In fact, if you ever address me as anything other than 'ma'am' or 'Dr. Okada,' I'll remove your teeth through nonsurgical means. Are we clear on that, David?"

David glared up at her. His chin trembled, and his face was bright red where she had struck him. A tear crept down the side of his face. Everyone had gone silent; we could hear the skeeters buzzing around us, the water lapping against the side of the canoes.

"Y-y-yes, ma'am," he whispered.

"Good. Second... the reason why I'm taking over is that you're... what? Thirteen? Fourteen? I'm thirty-six, which makes me stronger than you are.

If you don't believe it, we can go ash.o.r.e, and I'll continue your lessons in proper etiquette. Do you believe me, David?"

"Yes, ma'am." Very quietly, and with no argument.

"Good. You've done fine, but we need more muscle right now, and you just don't have it. So climb in the back... please."