Coyote Horizon (10 page)

A long pause. “I do not understand.”

Hawk didn’t need to look at Carlos to know that his uncle was glaring at him. “Umm . . . how long do you expect to be here? On Coyote, I mean.”

“For as long as it takes for me to fulfill my mission,” Taf said. “Unless my people decide that my work here is inadequate and decide to replace me, it will be indefinite.”

“Yes, right . . . of course.” Again, Hawk realized how unsuitable his questions were. Yet all he could do was carry on as best he could. “Are you carrying any items valued at more than one hundred colonials?”

“Ambassador . . .” Carlos moved forward. “Forgive us, please. My nephew didn’t mean any . . .”

“No need to apologize.” Taf’s head swung toward him. “He is only performing a ritual as dictated by the customs of your people.” The
hjadd
looked at Hawk again. “I do not understand your question. I carry items, yes. Are you asking me if any of them are valuable to you?”

Before Hawk could respond, Taf opened the flap of hisher satchel. Hisher hand disappeared for a moment; when it emerged again, heshe held a small black box, six inches on a side. “This may be worth something to you,” Taf said. “Is that what you mean to ask?”

“No, I . . .”

“I’m sorry, Taf Sa-Fhadda.” Carlos came to the rescue. “My nephew has made a mistake. As ambassador, by our laws you are exempt from having to declare . . . that is, to formally state . . . the value of any items you may be carrying.”

“Yes. I understand now.” But Taf didn’t put away the box; instead, hisher head cocked slightly to one side. “You seem to be uncertain of yourself,” heshe said quietly. “I do not think you know what you are doing.”

“I . . .” Hawk sighed, shook his head. “No. You’re right, Ambassador. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He saw the scowl on his uncle’s face, and added, “I’m not even sure why I’m here.”

Taf didn’t respond for a moment, yet heshe took a step closer, as if to study the customs agent a little more closely. Hawk saw his face reflected in the faceplate of the
hjadd’s
helmet: nervous, unsure of himself. Little more than a functionary, and an inept one at that.

“Yes,” heshe said at last. “I see that now. You search for something, but you do not know what it is, nor will you ever be happy until you find it.”

Hawk didn’t know what to say, but it was as if the
hjadd
had found a window to his soul and opened it. Everything Taf said was true; he’d just never admitted it to himself. He nodded, then went quiet, looking down at the ground in humiliation.

“I believe that you need this,” Taf said, hisher voice so low that only Hawk and his uncle could hear it. Hawk looked up to see that the emissary was offering the box to him. “Take it. Consider it a gift.”

“I . . .” Hawk stared at the small box. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Rules say that I’m prohibited from accepting any . . .”

“Hawk . . .” Carlos began, and Hawk caught the expression on his uncle’s face. He suddenly realized that if he didn’t accept a gift from the cultural ambassador, Jasahajahd Taf Sa-Fhadda would doubtless consider it an insult.

“Thank you, Taf Sa-Fhadda.” Hawk took the small box from the
hjadd
. Now that it was in his hand, he noticed that it was a little heavier than it seemed; a narrow crack ran down its center, revealing the location of two hinged flaps. The box rattled faintly in his grasp, as if it contained something inside. He started to open it, but the
hjadd
quickly laid hisher hand across his own.

“No,” heshe said quietly. “Not here. Later, when you are alone and your mind is at peace. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Hawk hesitated. “What is it?”

“It is
Sa’Tong-tas
. . . the Book of
Sa’Tong
.” Taf paused. “Speak to it, and it will speak to you.”

“Thank you.” Hawk didn’t know what else to say.

“
Sa’Tong qo
, Hawk Thompson.” The ambassador turned away from him. “If we are finished with this ritual,” heshe said to Carlos, “I would like to leave now.”

“Yes . . . sure, of course.” For once, Carlos appeared to be flustered; he was obviously shocked that his nephew, whom he’d ignored for so long, would be the recipient of an alien artifact. One last glance at Hawk, then he extended a hand toward the carpet. “If you will follow me, please . . .”

Without another word, Jasahajahd Taf Sa-Fhadda allowed himher-self to be led away. Hawk watched as his uncle escorted the ambassador past the double row of soldiers; not far away, the twin props of a gyrobus were already beginning to turn, its pilot preparing for immediate take-off.

Not once did the
hjadd
look back at him. Hawk waited until the emissary, accompanied by his uncle, boarded the aircraft. Its passenger door slammed shut, and a few seconds later the gyro rose from the ground, heading northwest to New Florida.

By then, the
Sa’Tong-tas
had disappeared within his trouser pocket. No one except Carlos had seen Hawk take it; no one had to know that the ambassador had given him a present. Perhaps it was only a trivial item. Nevertheless, he had a feeling that it was important.

 

 

 

Hawk left work early. He told his supervisor that he was feeling a little ill; something he’d eaten for breakfast, along with the stress of greeting the ambassador, had upset his stomach. His boss was a bit miffed—they were expecting a larger than usual number of passengers later that afternoon—but Hawk almost never called in sick, and he had an extra day off coming to him. So he grudgingly let Hawk go and assigned another inspector to take his place.

As he expected, his building was quiet when he got home; everyone else was still at work, and even Melissa was nowhere to be seen. That suited him well; he needed some time to himself.

He locked the door and closed the windows, then took the
Sa’Tong-tas
from his pocket and placed it on the table. His first impulse was to open it at once, yet he stopped himself. Taf had told him not to do so unless his mind was at peace. So he took off his uniform, then went into the bathroom and gave himself the luxury of a midday shower. Once he toweled off, he found an old robe that he seldom wore and pulled it on. All the while, he tried to empty his mind, deliberately avoiding thinking about anything in particular. He didn’t know exactly why he did all these things, only that it seemed natural.

When he was ready, Hawk sat down at the table. The black box rested where he’d placed it, inert and mysterious. He found the crack at its center and, ever so gently, pulled open the flaps.

Inside the box was an object little more than five inches in height. Carefully removing it from the box, he found what appeared to be a small, delicate sculpture: two gold rods, supporting a translucent cylinder capped by a small glass orb, anchored to a pedestal inscribed with script that somewhat resembled Farsi. Some sort of fluid, golden brown and viscous, was suspended within the cylinder. Tiny jewels sparkled from the support rods, and sunlight entered the sphere as if it were a prism, breaking into multicolored rays that fell across the table. The
hjadd
script on the pedestal seemed to glow with a luminescence of its own.

At first glance, the
Sa’Tong-tas
appeared to be little more than an objet d’art, beautiful but nothing else. Resting it on the table, Hawk cautiously probed it with his fingers. Taf had said that it was a book, but it certainly didn’t look like any book he’d ever seen. Unless it was, in fact, only a decorative piece, something which didn’t have any purpose except to look pretty.

Speak to it, and it will speak to you.
That was what Taf had said. Feeling just a bit silly, Hawk cleared his throat. “Hello? Are you listening? Can you hear me?”

A moment passed, then the jewels flashed in a random pattern, and the orb took on a soft internal glow.

“Hello,”
a voice said, coming from some source near the sculpture’s base.
“Yes, I am listening. Yes, I can hear you.”

Startled, Hawk withdrew his hand from the object. The voice was neither male nor female, yet it was quiet and kind. The fact that it spoke Anglo, though, somehow didn’t seem strange at all. If it was
hjadd
in origin, then it only made sense that it might know a human language.

“Hello,” he said again. The
Sa’Tong-tas
didn’t respond but instead seemed to wait for him to go on. “Umm . . . my name is Hawk Thompson. What are you?”

Again, the jewels flashed.
“Greetings, Hawk Thompson. I am your
Sa’Tong-tas
. Are you ready to begin?”

Hawk blinked, not quite understanding. “Begin? Begin what?”

“To learn those things that you should know.”
It sounded like a patient teacher addressing a student for the first time.
“Are you ready to begin?”

At a loss for what else to say, Hawk nodded. “Yeah . . . uhh, yes, I think so.”

The orb grew a little brighter, then the
Sa’Tong-tas
spoke again.

 

 

 

The sun had long since set, with night coming upon the town, by the time Hawk put the
Sa’Tong-tas
back in its case. He carefully closed the box, then sat at the table for a little while longer, his hands at his sides. Many hours had passed since the
Sa’Tong-tas
began to speak to him, yet he’d been only barely conscious of the passage of time. From all around him, he heard the usual sounds of the tenement—the voices of his neighbors, the occasional flush of the upstairs commode, the lonesome notes of a guitar—yet they were little more than a slight distraction. All he knew for certain was that he’d learned things that he’d never known, yet which were so obvious that he marveled at the fact that they hadn’t ever occurred to him.

He now knew that the
Sa’Tong-tas
was an artificial intelligence created by a miniature quantum computer, yet it was more than that. It was the voice of a system of spiritual beliefs older than human history, a way of knowledge that went far beyond religion. And even after the long session he had just finished—listening, asking questions, listening some more—he was all too aware that he’d barely scratched the surface. There was more, much more, that he still needed to learn.

Hawk looked around the room, and it was as if he was seeing it for the first time. Something had changed within him; he knew that he’d never be the same again. His job, his way of life, everything that had happened to him until today . . . unimportant, almost meaningless.

So much more to learn. So many questions, and so few answers. He wouldn’t find them here, nor did he want to search for them alone.

Hawk took a deep breath, then stood up from the table. His back ached from the hours he’d spent sitting there; he took a moment to stretch, then turned and walked to the door.

As he expected, Melissa was in her apartment. Her eyes widened when she opened her door. “Hey, what’s going on? I thought I heard you talking to someone, but when I knocked . . .”

“You did?” Hawk shook his head. “Sorry. Didn’t hear you.”

She peered at him. “You okay? You look . . . I dunno. Weird.”

“I’m fine. Really, I am. It’s just that . . .” He stopped. If he tried to explain what had just happened to him, she wouldn’t understand. No. That would have to come later. Best to start with the most immediate problem. “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day, and I think you’re right. We need to leave. New Brighton, that is.”

A smile stole across her face. “Y’know, I kinda thought you might come around. Yeah, sure . . . we gotta get out of this place.” A pause. “So when do you . . . ?”

“Now.” He hesitated. “Tonight.”

Melissa stared at him, her mouth falling open in shock. “Tonight? But . . . Hawk, how . . . I mean, why . . . ?”

“I’ll tell you later. It’s . . . Look, it’s complicated, but . . .” He let out his breath. “Now. Tonight.”

For a few seconds, she didn’t say anything. Then she slowly nodded. “All right . . . but we can’t go right this minute. We’ll have to wait until dawn.” He started to say something, but she shook her head. “I know a way out of here, but I can’t do anything about it until early tomorrow morning. Can you wait until then?”

“Sure, all right.” Hawk was reluctant to put off leaving for so long, when every impulse told him to depart at once, but he wanted Melissa to go with him. Besides, she’d said that she knew a way to get out of town that wouldn’t attract any attention. Which led to another question. “What am I going to do about . . . ?”

He held up his left hand. “That thing?” Melissa finished, and he nodded. Taking his wrist, she carefully inspected the control bracelet. “Shouldn’t be too much hassle getting this off,” she said at last. “I know a guy downstairs who works as a handyman. He owes me a favor”—a salacious wink—“so maybe I can borrow some tools from him. A pair of bolt cutters should do the trick.”

“We’ll have to wait until the last minute. If I take it off now, it’ll send a signal to my parole officer. Same for the patch.” That was the first time he’d thought of Joe Bairns. He didn’t like the idea of betraying the one person who’d been on his side since he was released, but it went without saying that he couldn’t tell Joe what he intended to do.

“Sure.” Melissa didn’t let go of him, though, but instead clasped his hands within her own. “What is it, Hawk-Hawk?” she asked quietly, gazing into his eyes. “What’s made you change your mind?”

“I’ve . . . discovered something. Something very important.” He caught a flash of fear in her eyes, and he quickly shook his head. “No reason to be frightened. It’s just . . . something that I’ve got to do, and I don’t want to do it alone.” He paused. “Will you trust me? Please?”

“All right.” Melissa nodded. “Sure. I’ll trust you.”

 

 

 

The early morning sun rose above the Great Equatorial River, dappling its dark blue waters with streaks of orange and silver. To the west, Bear was beginning to sink below the horizon, its rings touching the last fading stars. The low clouds that shrouded the night sky had begun to disappear; once they were gone, the new day promised to be bright and clear.