Coyote Destiny Read Online Free PDF Page B

from the one the sergeant had given him. “No,” he said, taking a deep breath as he stood up again. “Nothing wrong at all.” He forced a smile. “Guess what? You’re about to get your first field command.”
    “What?” Greg blinked in confusion, and the other officer in the tent turned around in his chair to look at both of them. “I . . . sir, what are you . . . ?”
    “Word from on high. I’m being recalled. Flying out as soon as possible.” He fumbled with his gloves, not quite knowing what to do next. “Call Torres, tell her to come here at once.” He hesitated, then added, “And tell her to pack her gear. She’s going, too.”
    The sergeant stared at him. “What in the world . . . ?”
    “Damned if I know.” Jorge felt a surge of irritation; this was the last thing he’d ever expected, and he hated questions that he couldn’t answer. “Just do it, all right? And then get started on the paperwork.”
    Without another word, Jorge left the lodge, feeling the eyes of the two junior officers at his back. Inside the vestibule, he took a minute to collect his thoughts while he closed his parka and put on his gloves and balaclava again. Then he opened the door and marched back out into the cold, heading for his tent to pack his belongings.
     
     
    A distant purr of turboprops, then what looked like an airborne catwhale emerged from the low clouds above the base. Nearly six hundred feet long, with an elliptical frame tapering to horizontal stabilizers at its stern, the CES Dana Monroe resembled a leviathan that had magically found a new home in the skies of Coyote.
    The airship was coming in from the southwest; watching it approach, Jorge realized the Monroe must have set out from Hammerhead at first light this morning, the pilot keeping the engines at full throttle all the way across Highland and the North Sea. That was the only way the dirigible could have reached Algonquin so soon after the messages had been sent.
    He stood at the edge of the landing field, stamping the soles of his boots against the ground to keep frostbite at bay. Knowing that he’d soon be returning to a slightly more temperate climate, he’d shucked most of his arctic gear while in his tent, relying instead on his Corps field uniform and an arsashi cape to keep him warm for the last hour or so that he and Inez would still be on Algonquin. Corporal Torres had done the same; beside him, the young woman huddled within her own cape, its hood pulled up around her head. Once again, Jorge was grateful for the alien technology that had given humans self-heating garments. The arsashi might look like the yeti of Earth legend, but they knew something about keeping warm.
    Inez had said little to Jorge when she saw him again and had remained silent during the entire time they’d waited for the Monroe to arrive. Indeed, the girl seemed reluctant even to look at him; there was a tense air about her that Jorge had never seen before, as if she was anticipating bad news. Several times already, Jorge had almost given in to the urge to ask the obvious questions but had refrained from doing so. If this was any of his business, he’d learn soon enough.
    The engines rose to a loud roar as the Monroe came to hover sixty feet above the ground. Doors beneath its underbelly opened, allowing mooring lines to drop. Corpsmen rushed to grab the lines; gathering them in their arms, the ground crew pulled the lines taut, then carefully walked backward as the airship slowly descended upon the landing field.
    The ground crew was still lashing the cables around metal stakes hammered into the frozen ground when a forward hatch opened beneath the gondola. A gangway ladder came down, barely touching the snow. Although the airship’s ducted turboprops had been throttled down, the pilot apparently wasn’t shutting them off entirely; the Monroe was staying only long enough to pick up a couple of passengers and drop off a few supplies.
    “All right, let’s go.”