Coyote Horizon (48 page)

“Chaaz’maha?”
Although Lynn was only a few inches away, it seemed as if she were speaking to him from a much greater distance. “Are you all right? You . . .”

She laid a hand across his wrist, and he jerked at her touch. “No . . . no, I’m fine,” he muttered, looking back at her. “It’s just that . . .”

He couldn’t finish, his mind still overwhelmed by the dark thoughts of the man seated on the other side of the aisle. Lynn was saying something else, but she was no longer the focus of his attention. Instead, he stared straight ahead, carefully avoiding looking directly at the clergyman even as he plunged deeper into his mind, searching for whatever horror this person had in store for him.

It took only a couple of seconds for him to discover the truth, but when he did, he almost gasped out loud. The bomb in the cargo bay, the detonator concealed in the datapad, the plan to activate it at the critical second . . . and above all else, the cold-blooded and utterly merciless determination to bring an end to his life, even if it also meant the destruction of the
Lee
and everyone on board.

“Chaaz’maha?”
Lynn peered at him. “What’s wrong? Is there something I can . . . ?”

“I’m . . . I’m sorry, but . . .” Wiping sweat from his face, he staggered to his feet, holding on to the seatback for support. “We’re going to have to do this another time. Something has . . .”

“Just an upset stomach,” he murmured, then turned away to lurch down the aisle. He did his best to pretend nothing was wrong, but as soon as he was on the other side of the curtain, he sagged against a bulkhead, fighting to keep from getting sick.

Then he pulled himself together and quickly headed for his cabin.

 

 

 

“You’re sure?” Commodore Tereshkova regarded the
chaaz’maha
with an intensity Carlos had never seen before. “You’re not mistaken, or . . . ?”

“Delusional?” In the cramped confines of the cabin, the
chaaz’maha
had no choice but to look her straight in the eye. “No. I wish I were, but”—he shook his head—“you have to believe me when I say the threat is real, and he fully intends to . . .”

“I still don’t understand how you could know this.” Although Tereshkova was concerned for the safety of her ship, her skepticism was obvious. “You haven’t seen the bomb or the pad you claim he’s using as a detonator. He didn’t even say anything to you. So how is it possible for you to learn any of these things?”

“Ana . . .” Carlos let out his breath. “You’re just going to have to trust Hawk . . . the
chaaz’maha
, I mean. He’s . . . well, he’s unusually perceptive. Let’s just put it that way and leave it at that.”

His nephew glanced at him, silently nodded. As soon as he’d returned to the cabin, the
chaaz’maha
had told him everything, including the way by which he’d come by the knowledge. It was only the fact that Carlos had already concluded—or at least strongly suspected beyond any reasonable doubt—that Hawk had somehow gained telepathic abilities that kept him from believing that the
chaaz’maha
had lost his mind. But even though Carlos had immediately summoned Anastasia to their cabin, he decided to keep that part of the story from her, if only because she might think that both of them were crazy.

“But . . .” Tereshkova began.

“Commodore, please . . . we simply don’t have time to argue.” The
chaaz’maha
held up a hand, and there was something in the way he spoke that caused her to go quiet. “If I’m wrong, then I’ll be held fully accountable for my accusations. But”—he shook his head again—“I’m not wrong. Of that, I’m quite certain. There’s a bomb in his bag, one powerful enough to cause serious damage to your vessel. It’s triggered by a detonator concealed within the pad he’s carrying . . . two simple keystrokes, and it goes off. He’s doing this to kill me, and he simply does not care if he or anyone else dies as a result.”

“And when do you say he intends to do this?”

“As soon as the
Lee
passes through the starbridge.” Seeing the horrified look in her eyes, the
chaaz’maha
hesitated, then went on. “You know he can destroy the ship that way, don’t you? If he set off the bomb anytime before then, the blast would be confined to the cargo bay, and that would probably be about it. But during those few seconds just before we enter hyperspace, when the
Lee
is under maximum stress . . .”

“
Da.
It would destroy the ship. No question about it.” Carlos noticed that, as she spoke, her hands trembled ever so slightly at her sides. “And you’re wrong about the cargo bay being the only part of the ship that would be affected. It’s adjacent to the internal oxygen tanks, so a sufficiently powerful explosion would tear through the internal bulkheads and cause them to go up as well. And that . . .”

“So you can’t chance it, can you?” The
chaaz’maha
stared at her. “Commodore, you must believe me. You have no other choice.”

Once again, Carlos glanced at the wall screen. The
Lee
was less than fifty thousand miles from Starbridge Coyote; since braking maneuvers were complete, the vessel was only fourteen minutes away from hyperspace insertion. On the bridge, the crew was already linking the ship’s AI with the one aboard the nearby gatehouse, the prelude to an intricate ballet of quantum-level computations that would result in an artificial wormhole being created between 47 Ursae Majoris and Earth’s solar system.

Fourteen minutes. Time was running out . . .

“Very well. I’ll . . . trust you, even if I don’t completely believe you.” Tereshkova let out a breath; she’d also noticed the screen. “I’ll summon Mr. Heflin, have him put the suspect under arrest.”

She started to turn toward the door, but the
chaaz’maha
reached out to stop her. “No, don’t do that. He’s high-strung enough already. If he sees a member of your crew . . . especially a senior officer . . . coming toward him, he’s liable to set off the bomb.” He paused. “I didn’t see him do so, but I believe he’s already armed the detonator. The pad has a timer, but I don’t think he’s using it. Besides the fact that his timing is critical, he really wants to blow the thing himself. That way he can kill me with his own hand. If he thinks someone is going to stop him, or you put the ship on alert . . .”

“Can you jettison the cargo?” Carlos asked. “If you blow it out into space before . . .”

“No.” Tereshkova shook her head. “Passenger baggage is sealed inside containers, which in turn are locked down inside the cargo bay. We can open the bay doors, certainly, but there’s no mechanism for jettisoning the containers themselves.”

“Then maybe we can find the bomb, disarm it.”

“No. We can’t open the canisters while they’re in the bay. They’re packed together too tightly.” The Commodore’s mouth pursed together. “No one ever anticipated this sort of emergency, I regret to say.”

“So abort the jump.” Carlos shrugged. “If we don’t go through the starbridge, maybe he won’t . . .”

“It won’t make any difference.” The
chaaz’maha
shook his head. “He’s already committed himself. Even if we don’t go through, he’ll explode the bomb anyway . . . and as the Commodore says, chances are he won’t need hyperspace to kill everyone aboard.”

Carlos closed his eyes. “So we’re going to have to deal with this guy . . .”

“Cosenza,” the
chaaz’maha
said quietly. “The Reverend Alberto Cosenza. Deacon of the Church of the Holy Dominion.” He glanced at his uncle. “If you intend to negotiate with him, you’d do well to know his name and who he is.”

A Dominionist. Carlos quietly sighed. Although he considered the Church to be misguided, its tenets antiquated and archaic, he’d never thought it to be dangerous. And indeed, the institution itself probably wasn’t to blame. Just one man, so fanatically determined to defend his religion that he’s willing to commit mass murder in the name of God.

Uh-huh,
he thought.
And how many times has that happened?

“All right, then.” He pushed himself out of his chair. “Let me go back there. Maybe I can talk to—”

“Nyet!”
Tereshkova moved to block the door. “As commander of this vessel, I absolutely forbid it.”

“But . . .”

“In fact, I’m doing exactly the opposite.” She opened the door; her chief petty officer was standing just outside. “Mr. Heflin? Please escort President Montero and the
chaaz’maha
below and put them in a lifeboat . . .”

“Ana!” Carlos stepped closer to her. “Dammit, don’t . . . !”

Tereshkova laid a hand on his chest, started to push him back. Then, as if on second thought, she grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. “Take them below,” she repeated, ignoring Carlos’s objections. “Once they’re aboard, rig the lifeboat for automatic jettison in the event of a general alarm.”

Heflin’s face went pale. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew better than to question his captain’s orders. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, then he held out a hand to Carlos. “Mr. President, if you will . . .”

Carlos wasn’t about to be taken away without a fight. “Ana, you can’t . . .”

“Mr. President, this is not open to discussion.” No longer bothering with common courtesy, she shoved him out of the cabin. “We’ll deal with him ourselves. Your safety . . . your nephew’s . . . are my prime concern just now.
Chaaz’maha
, please . . . ?”

“As you insist.” Apparently seeing the futility in offering any resistance, the
chaaz’maha
stepped past her. As he joined his uncle in the corridor, though, he turned to offer a solemn bow. “
Sa’Tong qo
, Commodore.”

Tereshkova had no idea what that meant, but she gave him a quick nod in return. “Thanks. You, too.” Then she pointed toward a hatch at the forward end of the corridor and snapped her fingers. “Go now.”

Carlos reluctantly nodded, then turned to follow the
chaaz’maha
. Then he stopped and looked back at Ana. “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m . . . I’m afraid this is a situation where there are no good choices. Only ones less dangerous than others.” She hesitated. “We’re going to have to take him down.”

 

 

 

Sitting in the back of the passenger section, the pad resting on the armrest beside his right hand, Alberto Cosenza felt a serenity that he’d never experienced. All at once, it seemed as if he perceived things with a certain clarity; he’d come to realize that his entire life had been leading up to this moment, that he was about to play a role that had been preordained since the moment of his birth. Nothing else mattered, save what he was about to do.

Cosenza was vaguely aware of a minor commotion on the other side of the curtain, but paid little attention. He’d noticed Thompson’s reaction to him, how he’d abruptly rushed away. No doubt the false prophet had been sickened by the presence of a man of God; it was merely another indication that the deacon was being guided by a higher power.

Cosenza rested his fingertips lightly upon the pad. The detonator was armed, the timer disengaged; all he needed to do was tap the appropriate command into the menu bar, and it would all be over. Gazing at the screen on the seatback before him, he was satisfied to see that the
Lee
was only seven minutes away from its rendezvous with the starbridge.

Soon. Very soon . . .

Carlos knew that Ana was making the wrong decision. But he had to wait to make his own move.

The lifeboats were located on the deck below the passenger section, behind circular hatches tilted downward on both sides of a narrow passageway. Carlos let Heflin escort him and the
chaaz’maha
down the ladder, and quietly stood by while the chief petty officer opened the nearest lifeboat. The
chaaz’maha
climbed aboard, but Carlos paused to watch as Heflin opened a service panel beside the outer hatch, revealing a small keypad. Heflin tapped in a code number, then entered a series of commands, following instructions on the pad’s tiny screen. A soft double
beep
, then Heflin shut the panel again.

“There. It’s set to jettison the moment there’s a general alarm.” There was a grim smile on the chief petty officer’s face as he turned toward Carlos. “All right, Mr. President . . . in you go.”

“Of course.” Carlos ducked his head as if to climb into the lifeboat, then he hesitated. “Umm . . . I’m not sure how this works. The seats, I mean. How do you . . . ?”

“They fold down from the bulkheads. Very easy to do.” Heflin was becoming impatient. “Mr. President, please . . .”

“Certainly. Of course.” Carlos put his shoulders through the hatch, but when he saw that Hawk was having trouble lowering one of the seats, he withdrew again. “Look, I’m sorry to be a pest, but . . .”

Heflin let out his breath in exasperation, but without another word he climbed into the lifeboat. The second he entered the small capsule, Carlos slammed the hatch behind him. Grabbing the lock-lever, he shoved it upward, sealing the lifeboat shut from outside. Heflin was already banging his fist against the hatch as the president sprinted back down the passageway to the ladder.

As expected, he found Tereshkova in the first-class section, standing beside the curtain. Two midshipmen were with her; all three had stun guns in their hands. The Commodore’s eyes widened the moment she saw Carlos come through the forward hatch.

“What the hell are you . . . ?” she hissed, her voice an angry whisper.

“Shut up and listen.” Keeping his voice low, Carlos held up a hand as he came closer. “That’s not going to work. If he’s already armed the detonator, he’ll set it off as soon as he sees you . . .”

“I have two more men behind the hatch on the other end of the compartment.” Tereshkova jerked her head toward the second-class section. “We’re just the backup. On my signal, they’re going to come in from behind and—”