Jack McDevitt - Coming Home

“There’s not much you can do about that. You guys will just have to come to some sort of agreement.”

I took a deep breath. “Alex will probably have to leave. Not that Gabe would force him out, but there’ll be a lot of tension.”

Belle was silent for a long moment. Then: “What about you, Chase? Which of them would you prefer to work for?”

I’d been thinking about that. And I wasn’t sure. What I’d really like would be to see them come together. Both involved with Rainbow Enterprises. But I knew that would never happen.

The beta frequency was, for the most part, silent. Schultz was undoubtedly too busy to be talking on the radio. But one of her ops spoke for her now and then. “We have twenty-eight people lined up and ready to go as soon as the Ventnor gets here.”

And: “Some of our passengers have gone into shock. We debated not saying anything until they were safely out of here. But in the end that didn’t seem like a good idea. We’ve told them about the eleven years. But they don’t know that it’ll be 1440 before most of them get out. We don’t want to start a panic. Things are scary enough now.”

And then the captain herself: “I can’t believe it’s been eleven years , John. Did they write us off as dead?”

“Yes, Dierdre. Nobody knew what had happened.”

“My poor husband. But at least he knows now we’re all right?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God. When you can, would you tell him you talked with me? I hate his having to wait another five years before I see him again.”

“Sure, Dierdre. I’ll tell him.”

“Thanks.” Long pause. “John, is he all right?”

“Yes, he’s fine. And he’s waiting for you.” I was impressed when I heard that, that he’d foreseen this conversation and done the homework. I imagined myself on the receiving end of that request and stumbling around asking for his name and address and wondering if he’d married someone else. Or whether he was even still alive.

“Our passengers and crew,” said Schultz, “are going to have a hard time getting their heads around this. Everybody they know and care about will be eleven years older.”

“I know, Dierdre.”

“I just don’t believe this is happening.”

Captain Schultz and her passengers had experienced only a couple of days of being stranded. I couldn’t help thinking about the other lost ships, some of them drifting through centuries and even millennia.

Then the captain again: “John,” she said, “the Ventnor ’s here.”

I watched through the Ventnor ’s scopes as she pulled alongside the Capella . The lights continued spreading out, on the bridge and across thrusters and scanners and gleaming from portals. It morphed gradually into a flying city. And the hull kept getting larger until it filled the display.

And we could hear the interchange between the operational officers on the two ships:

“That’s good,” said the Capella . “Hold it there. We’re opening the airlock. They’re carrying some bags. No major luggage, though. You guys going to have room for it?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“All right. Good. There are nine families. Twenty-eight people altogether.”

“Okay.”

“Lock is open. Tube’s in place.”

Exit tubes are constructed of plastene, supported by struts. The Capella ’s reached across the thirty meters or so separating the two ships until it touched the airlock. The hull was replaced on-screen by the Ventnor ’s interior. I knew the pilot, Janet Carstairs. I watched her leave the bridge and proceed into the passenger cabin, where she opened the inner airlock hatch. Then she checked to see that the tube was in fact secure. “Okay, Mike,” she said, “open up.” Mike, I assumed, was the AI.

“Complying.”

The hatch slid up into the overhead, and I could see into the tube. Lights came on along its length, and the interior of the Capella ’s airlock appeared at the far side. “Clear on this end,” Janet said. She gave a thumbs-up and entered the tube.

The Capella replied: “Opening up.”

The clicks and whirls of the other hatch became audible. Then people appeared, crowded at the entrance. And voices encouraging one another. “Be careful, Penny.”

“I got the bag, love.”

“Is this safe, Mommy?”

Janet crossed over to the other ship, where a family of four, with a boy and girl, both about six or seven, waited in the airlock. Their father grappled with bags. Janet took one and led them into the tube. “Be careful,” she said. “Hang on to the rails. There’s no gravity.” The father came next, then the kids, scared at first, then giggling as they drifted toward the overhead. The mother brought up the rear, securing the children.

Other families followed.

Janet came out of the tube but stayed at the hatch to help as they reentered the gravity field. The passengers came out of the airlock, uncertain children, moms and dads looking confused and worried. “We don’t have cabins for everyone,” she said, “but we’ll manage.” She directed some of them toward the after section of the Ventnor , freeing up space. The last one through was a young woman who might have been alone. The twenty-eighth passenger. Janet was explaining how they’d get everyone settled as quickly as they could, but first they needed everybody to sit down, either where they were or in one of the cabins. “We’re short on seats,” she added. “So we’ll have to make do. Parents, we’d like you to belt yourselves in, then hold on to your kids. We want to get away from here to make room for the next ship coming in.”

We heard the voices from the Capella , announcing they were closing the airlock. Seconds later, Janet informed them she’d disconnected from the tube.

The passengers buckled down. A new voice, presumably the AI, announced they’d have sandwiches and cookies as soon as they got clear.

“Next ship,” said John, “will be the Deloi . They’re about forty minutes out.”

As soon as I heard the name I knew there’d be a problem. And I’m sure John was aware of it, too. But we needed all the ships we could muster. Deloi was one of the major cities on Borkarat, a Mute world. “That’s an odd name,” said Schultz. “Where’s it from, John?”

“It’s an Ashiyyurean ship.”

“Mutes?”

“Yes.”

“You’re having my people taken off by Mutes?”

“Things have changed in eleven years, Dierdre.”

“I’m glad to hear it. But my passengers aren’t going to want to get into a ship with Mutes. I mean, they still read minds, don’t they?”

“Tell your passengers not to think any embarrassing thoughts.”

“This is going to be a hard sell, John.” Somebody shut the transmission down at that point. I sighed. Kraus had obviously recalled that the conversation was being broadcast.

“Schultz’s right,” I said to Belle. “People still don’t want to be around them.”