Coyote Rising Read Free Page A

entertaining enough, for what they are.” A figure glided from the darkness. “If you keep that up, though, you’re going to get a crick in the neck . . . and I’ll tell you right now, I’m not impressed.”
    Baptiste relaxed, assuming an at-ease posture. He could see the Patriarch more clearly: a short, stocky man, his scalp shaved clean, a narrow goatee framing a broad mouth, stark black eyes buried deep within his skull. Patriarch Leonardo Somoza, former member of the Union Proletariate, highest-ranking UA officer on the Moon . . . and, regardless of a cultivated air of affability, a man widely regarded to be merciless with anyone who roused his ire. Be careful when you see him , others had privately warned Baptiste. Leo would just as soon cut off your balls as offer you a drink .
    “Would you like a drink?” The Patriarch now stood only a few inches away, peering up at Baptiste’s face. “I’m going to have one, and I don’t like drinking alone.”
    Baptiste forced a smile. “Thank you, sir. Whatever you’re having.”
    “Uh-huh.” Somoza studied him for another moment, then turned away. “We haven’t met till now,” he said as he walked toward a cabinet on the other side of the room, “but you’ve come highly recommended for this mission. Twelve years deep-space experience, commanding officer of the second Titan expedition . . . impressive. Very impressive.”
    “Thank you, sir. I’m glad you approve.”
    “Uh-huh.” Somoza opened the cabinet, regarded a small collection of cut-glass decanters, finally selected one. He said nothing as he poured a measure of pale brown liquid into two glasses, then added ice and water to each one. “Of course, this is . . . well, somewhat tame compared to Titan, don’t you think?”
    Titan had been a nightmare. The first lander sent down from his ship had been caught in a storm while making atmospheric entry and crashed on the moon’s uncharted surface, killing half the crewmen aboard. Baptiste dispatched the second lander to recover the survivors,and the rescue mission had nearly failed as well, with his first officer losing his life in the effort. The review board had absolved Captain Baptiste of any blame, though, and three months later the Proletariate ceremonially presented him with the Prix de Coeur, the Western Hemisphere Union’s highest military medal of honor. And two years after that, the Union Astronautica offered him the command of the Spirit .
    “Not at all, sir.” Baptiste accepted the drink, took a sip. Bourbon. He hated bourbon. “Coyote may not be Titan, but I’m sure it must present its own challenges.”
    “I’m sure it will.” The Patriarch gestured to a couple of chairs positioned in front of the windows. “In fact, that’s why I wished to meet with you. Have you had a chance to review the material we sent you?”
    Baptiste hesitated. “Not in depth, sir. I didn’t receive it until shortly before I boarded the train. I’ve been rather busy.”
    “Of course.” Somoza smiled as he sat down. “There are always last-minute details. I trust that you managed to read the summary, at the very least.”
    “An assessment by the Savants Council of possible social conditions on Coyote.” Through the window slats, Baptiste saw another shuttle coming in for touchdown. There was a lot of traffic coming and going out in the spaceport. “My apologies, sir. I didn’t get very far into it.”
    “Uh-huh.” Somoza frowned as he jiggled the ice in his glass. “Normally I wouldn’t accept failure by a senior officer to read a classified report. Yet I anticipated that you might be involved with other tasks, so I’ve invited someone to bring you up to date.” He looked over his shoulder. “Gregor? If you’ll join us, please?”
    Baptiste glanced behind him to see a form step out from the deep shadows of the office, a tall figure cloaked in a black robe. As he stepped closer, ruby eyes lit within the cowl pulled over his head;