Jack McDevitt - Coming Home

“Sightseeing where?”

“They’re going north, up to Monica Bay.” Khaled was keeping his eyes on me while he talked. Alex got the message and announced that he was going out on deck to enjoy the breeze. So Khaled eased us into a conversation about the sea, about the romances of the boating business, about life along the coast. He was smooth, and I guess I made no effort to discourage him.

Eventually, I tried to turn the conversation back onto Baylee. Had he ever seemed as if he was making any kind of progress? Did he ever look happy?

“Well,” he said, “that’s a tough call. He laughed a lot. He knew how to enjoy himself. But he never let go of the museum. You know what I mean?” Khaled understood he didn’t have much time, so he plunged ahead. “I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, Chase, but you’re the loveliest woman I’ve seen around here in years, and I wouldn’t forgive myself if I just let you walk away. But I guess you’re not planning on staying in this area, are you?”

“No, Khaled. We won’t be here long.”

“May I ask what sort of relationship you have with Alex? And I hope I’m not out of line here.”

“He’s my boss.”

“Oh, good.” Big smile. I found myself wishing he lived in Andiquar. “So, would you allow me to take you out for dinner, say, Monday evening?”

“We won’t be here Monday evening, Khaled,” I said. “Sorry.”

“Well, okay.” Another smile. “How about Sunday then?”

“Khaled, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’ll be gone after Monday morning. It can’t really go anywhere.”

“Back to Rimway?”

“Well, probably not right away. But—”

“Let’s not just let this go away. If we can get some time together Sunday evening, let’s do it. Then we can say good-bye. Or whatever.”

My heartbeat was picking up. “Don’t you have any boats to take out?”

“I’ll get a replacement. It’s the advantage of being the owner.”

In the morning, he and Alex appeared on deck in swimsuits. Khaled strapped a pistol-shaped weapon onto his belt. I assumed it was a blaster. “We haven’t been seeing any sharks lately,” he said. “But caution never hurts.”

“What does it do?” I asked. “Blow them up?”

He laughed. “It screws up their nervous system. It won’t do any permanent damage, but they won’t hang around.”

“Good,” I said. No other boats were in sight.

“It’s not too deep here,” said Khaled. “All set, Alex?”

“Let’s do it.”

They pulled oxygen masks down over their faces and tested the radios. “Good luck,” I told Alex. He gave me a thumbs-up and turned on the imager, which was fastened to his vest.

I opened my notebook, and the handrail and ocean blinked on. There was a gate in the rail. Khaled opened it and stepped aside. Alex went through, climbed down a ladder, and slipped into the water. Khaled followed, and both quickly disappeared beneath the surface.

The boat rocked gently in the waves.

I sat down on a deck chair with the notebook and watched the images. The water grew darker as they descended, and the bottom came gradually into view.

“If you look over to your right, Alex,” said Khaled, “you can make out some of the mounds. Underneath all that are steel and concrete.”

Alex turned on a lamp. “Has anyone ever actually looked, Khaled? I mean, have they dug up the area?”

“Every fifty years or so, an archeological team shows up and goes down to poke around. As nearly as I can make out, they’ve been doing it off and on for thousands of years. If there was ever anything here, it’s long gone now.”

Alex looked to be moving smoothly. I saw the lumps in the bottom that Khaled had talked about. And a broken wall. A couple of struts stuck out of the ocean bottom.

Khaled pushed on one, demonstrating that it wasn’t going to move. A few fish passed through, apparently drawn by the lights.

Gradually I became aware of a white skimmer moving toward us. It was coming slowly, and descending.

“Over here,” said Khaled. He was digging at the mud, and after he got about a foot down, he found something solid. “It’s a floor. I think we’re inside the museum.”

Alex came over to look. Then he began swimming in a circle, gradually moving farther out, examining the bottom, sometimes touching down, digging in.

I was tempted to comment that I didn’t think they were going to find anything. But I decided to stay out of it.

Alex tugged something out of the mud. It looked like a piece of metal.

The skimmer began turning away, heading west.

On the display, the piece of metal caught the light. It was a beer can.

“I guess you’re right, Khaled,” Alex said. “This place does attract visitors.”

“Yes, sir. Absolutely.”

“Ahhh,” said Alex. “What’s this?”

A pair of angled poles jutted out of the mud. One was bent. Both were about a meter long and heavily corroded. In fact, it was unlikely anything remained of the original material. “What is it, Alex?” I asked.

“Not sure yet. Khaled, is there a way to figure out which part of the museum this would have been?”

“I’m sorry, Alex. But no. We could come back with a compass and maybe get some direction. At least it would tell us—” He stopped. “Well, no, that wouldn’t really help.”

Eventually, they surfaced and came back onto the deck. Alex went to his notebook without drying off.

“What’s going on?” I said.

He held up a palm. Give him a minute. He was looking at a picture of one of the original lunar descent modules. I tried to imagine what it had been like going down to the lunar surface in one of those things. How did they manage any kind of serious spaceflight with no capability for gravity manipulation? It blew my mind.

Khaled pulled a towel around his shoulders and turned to me. “I probably should have warned him. Most of the people who come here get disappointed.”

“He’s okay,” I said.

Alex looked up from the notebook. “Those rods,” he said. “They’re from one of the Apollo descent modules.” He split the screen and brought up a picture of the poles sticking out of the mud. “The metal is completely corroded. But look at the angles. They’re the same.”

“Not much left of it,” I said.

“No. We probably wouldn’t have that if it hadn’t been inside the museum. It was protected from the tides for a long time. Until the walls went away.” He sat quietly for a few moments, just watching the sea. “Baylee would have known what that was,” he said finally. “It must have torn his heart out.” He looked up over my shoulder. “What’s that?” he asked.

The white skimmer was back, ahead of us and off to starboard. I shielded my eyes from the sun. “It’s been hanging around for a while,” I said.

Khaled watched it while he continued drying himself. “We get a lot of those out here. They just fly over the museum so they can say they’ve been here.”

It was moving in a wide circle, angling around until it was directly ahead of us. Khaled threw the towel over one shoulder and watched as it turned in our direction. “You guys aren’t wanted by the police or anything, are you?”

“Not that I know of,” said Alex.

The skimmer was descending. Coming toward us now. It leveled off at an altitude of about a hundred meters. There was no longer any doubt that it was interested in us. “I’m not comfortable with this,” Khaled said. He walked onto the bridge and started the engines. “Pat, pull up the anchor.” Pat was the AI.