Jack McDevitt - Coming Home

“What changed? Did you find out something?”

“Seeing the families. That’s what changed. Seeing pictures of the passengers.” They’d been all over the news feeds. “It was always five percent. That just seems like a much bigger number now.” She looked in pain. “I don’t want to be responsible for killing these people.”

The waiter came back. JoAnn was still looking toward the menu, not really reading it. “I’ll have a Camara salad,” she said. It was a specialty of the house, and I suspected it was what she usually ordered.

“What does Shara think?”

“She wants to play the odds. Which is fine if it works. But it’s easy for her. I’m not sure she’d be so ready to do it if it were up to her to make the call.”

I wanted to tell her there’s always a level of uncertainty. In everything. Nothing’s a hundred percent in life. But I kept my mouth shut.

Her eyes darkened. “The stakes are too high.”

Linda Talbott had been a special client because she had also lost someone on the Capella . Her husband, George, had been a talented novelist. He’d written narratives centered on politics and religion, had won some major awards, and had been a rising star in serious fiction when he boarded the cruise liner eleven years earlier. He was from Dellaconda originally, and, Linda had told me, he’d been an admirer of Margaret Weinstein, its president at the beginning of the century. Weinstein had captured his attention by pushing a term-limits bill through an antagonistic legislature. After that, according to the common wisdom, the universe had grown brighter. Government on Dellaconda had become more straightforward, and, significantly, similar bills had been passed or were periodically being introduced throughout the Confederacy. That achievement alone had raised her to the front rank of Dellacondan presidents and should have ended with her becoming chief executive of the Confederacy. It didn’t happen, of course. She shared a characteristic with Kolchevsky: She tended to say what she thought. She’d gotten away with it while rising to the top on Dellaconda, but there was no way she could have disregarded politics the way she did and become the Confederacy’s chief executive.

Consequently, when Weinstein’s chair became available, I contacted Linda. It would command a steep price, but she had resources. She and her husband had a palatial residence along the coast in Ocean Gate, a kilometer north of Andiquar. And they owned an asteroid home. It was the place, she’d told me, they always retreated to when George was making the final pass through his current novel.

“I just thought,” I told her as we sat in the Hillside, “you might be interested.”

“Interested?” She almost squealed. “Oh, yes. How much?”

“They’re still bidding on it,” I said. “But I can connect you with Alex. Let him know how much you’re willing to go. He’ll take it from there. And get you the best price he can.”

“I’d love,” she said, “to have it sitting in the middle of our living room when George walks in.”

“It’s pretty valuable. I’m not sure you’d want to have it where your cats could chew on it.”

“Oh,” she said, “I wouldn’t put it here. I’d take it out to Momma. By the way, would you and Alex be able to arrange delivery? At my expense, of course.”

“Of course. You’re going to give it to your mother?”

“ Momma’s our asteroid.”

“Oh.”

“I could explain it, but you’d need an hour or so.”

I laughed. “I’ll tell Alex you’re interested.”

They delivered the chair to us a few days later. We put it in the conference room. I was disappointed by its general appearance. It was in decent condition. But it was mostly black faux leather, and there were some scratches. But it looked comfortable, and maybe that was all that mattered. “What do you think?” Alex asked me.

“How much is she paying for it?”

“Three quarters of a million.”

“That seems like a lot of money for a chair that looks so ordinary.”

“That’s what pumps up the value, Chase,” he said. “This was where she sat when she changed Confederate politics.” He was obviously pleased with himself. “It’s actually a good buy.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

He made no effort to hide his disappointment at my attitude. “When’s Linda coming?”

“She said she’d be here this morning.”

“Okay. I have to go out for a while. If she comes while I’m gone, congratulate her for me. And have her sign the documents. Morris Delivery will pick it up this afternoon, and they tell me they’ll get it to Momma within three days.” He delivered the line without cracking a smile.

I did a search on Weinstein and looked through pictures and displays. There was an excerpted comment by George, who had said of her in one of his novels that if she had been running Dellaconda two centuries earlier, there would never have been a war with the Mutes. I looked at photos. Here she was giving awards to celebrated literary figures. And treating famous scientists to dinner at the presidential estate. And at Everhold shaking hands with a few Mutes while she tried to keep the peace. And the famous picture of her sitting at a table with a Mute child in the world capital.

Linda showed up while I was still glossing over the history. I took her back to the conference room, showed her the chair, and was relieved at her reaction. “It’s gorgeous ,” she said.

“It is nice, isn’t it?”

“Chase, he’s going to love having that in the house.” She took a deep breath. “I hope we’re able to get him home.”

“Me, too.” She stood behind it and pressed her fingertips into it. Then, when she’d had enough, we gave it some distance and sat down at the conference table. “How often do you get to the asteroid?” I asked.

“We spend about two months a year up there. It’s never been my favorite place. But George likes solitude. At least he does when he’s finishing a project.”

“Why was he on the Capella ?”

“He was doing research, Chase.”

“Really? What kind of research?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but he was writing a novel in which an interstellar with a bunch of politicians on board develops some sort of mechanical problem and sets down on an alien world, where they have to cooperate in order to survive.”

“So it’s a thriller?”

“More like a comedy.” She checked the time. “Well, anyhow, I have to go. Tell Alex I said thanks. Do I pay you ?”

“We can do it that way. And I need you to sign some documents.” I led the way back to my office. “May I ask a question?”

“Certainly, Chase.”

“Who named it Momma ?”

“I don’t know. Probably the previous owner. Somebody with a dark sense of humor, I guess. It was one of the things that attracted us to it. That, and the fact that it’s an almost perfectly smooth sphere.”

“I’d be interested in meeting him. George, that is.”

“He’s an odd guy in a lot of ways. But you’d like him, Chase. He told me once about the secret of life. You know what it is?”

“I’m not sure what George thinks it is.”

“It’s having lunch with friends. I think most people never got to see that side of him.” Her voice had gotten shaky.

There were several hundred residences set up on asteroids. Most have plastene domes, but a few are apparently shielded only by a force field. I wouldn’t be too comfortable with that arrangement. Power goes out, and you have a serious problem.