Jack McDevitt - Coming Home

Fairly typical, I thought, was an appearance on Charlie Koeffler’s show by one of the families we’d seen taken off by the Mutes. Karl Dunn and his wife Arlene had planned a ride to the stars with their two kids, Laurie and Jack. “And here we are,” said Arlene. “We were only out there a few days, and they’re telling us it’s 1435.”

Laurie, who was about eight, with a huge smile and curly brown hair, could not stop laughing. “We’re time travelers,” she said.

Jack was two or three years older. He had a question for Koeffler: “We heard they can turn the ship around, and we can ride back to where we came from. Back to 1424. Do you think that’s true?”

Koeffler laughed. “I don’t think it works in both directions.”

“So,” Jack continued, “Allie’s about twenty-two?”

Karl smiled and nodded. “Allie is Jack’s best friend.”

“I’m afraid so,” said Koeffler.

“But that means he’s old ,” said Jack.

All three adults got a laugh out of that. But Jack looked seriously unhappy. “I’ve lost him.”

The shadow of 1440, when the real rescue would occur, hung over the shows. Serge Lebouef, on Jennifer in the Morning , was shattered by what had happened to his wife, Carmela. Carmela had been one of the two crew members who had stayed with the lifeboat packages and been swept along when the Capella was taken down. “Five years is a long time to be without her,” he said. “But I understand why she did it. And I’m proud of her.”

“Your wife’s a hero, Serge,” said Jennifer. “And the experts all agree that they should be able to recover her. That she is probably now on board the Capella .”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure she’s all right. Listen, Jennifer, I wasn’t surprised by what she did. To be honest, it was the reason I hoped the Randall wouldn’t get close to everything. I know how this sounds, but—” He stopped, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and swallowed whatever he’d planned to say.

He’d brought images along, and we watched him and Carmela at the eighth-grade graduation of their daughter. We saw them on the beach, saw them strolling through Brockman Park, saw them overseeing their daughter while she played on a swing. “She’ll have to do a lot of growing up without her mom,” he said.

George Talbott was, as anticipated, not among the few who’d been rescued. But Linda had thrown the party anyway, providing transportation out to her asteroid home for any who wanted it. Alex had asked me to go while he attended a conference he couldn’t skip because he was guest of honor.

Approximately thirty people were in attendance. Half arrived in Linda’s vehicle. I came with them, since I was not excited about riding in an empty ship again. She launched the party by introducing George’s avatar, who proceeded to thank everyone for coming, then showcased the Weinstein chair. Had it stopped there, things would have been okay, but the avatar began talking about how in just five years the real George would arrive, and we could have a serious celebration. He kept going on like that, and some of us got uncomfortable. Five years, I suspected, was not a long time for an avatar. But George’s parents were present, and neither one looked like a good bet to make it to the follow-up event.

Eventually, Linda decided the avatar was not contributing a positive note and shut it down. But the damage was done, and the party never recovered. Instead of raising drinks to the fact that everything was under control and a celebration with George actually present was now within range, people took to wandering outside and looking up at the night sky through the plastene dome that shielded the house and commenting on how far away everything looked and that they would never want to live in a place like this. They were, of course, careful who was present when they made the observation.

Nevertheless, some of it got back to Linda, who became visibly annoyed. “We don’t live here,” she said. “This is where George writes. But unless he’s working on a major project, he stays groundside. With me.” Linda was fond of saying that she “hung out” at Momma. I actually couldn’t imagine her spending any length of time in the solitude that enwrapped that place. She’s too much of a social critter for that. And I suspect that, if George comes home and continues to settle in there while he writes his novels, the marriage will not get past the first renewal date.

The invitation included overnight accommodations for anyone who wished to stay. But by 0100 hours, Andiquar time, I was played out, and I rode back to Skydeck with one of our clients.

I didn’t get in to the country house until midafternoon the following day. By then we’d gotten access to nine more books. And Alex was right: During the Golden Age, they did assign names to asteroids. At least to some of them. We found Ceres and Victoria, Flora and Prosperpina, Bellona, Irene, and Pallas. But there was no mention of a Larissa.

Later that afternoon, a bouquet of golden roses arrived. They were from Khaled and were accompanied by a note. “I’d hoped to see you in the reports somewhere,” it read, “but there were so many people involved, and so many ships. Anyhow, congratulations. Do you plan on being there when the Capella returns?”

He signed it with love.

I sent off a thank-you, and told him that being able to help had been an exhilarating experience. Then I made a mistake. Alex was on the hunt again, and I knew where that was eventually going to lead. “Can’t say for sure,” I added, “but I suspect we’ll be heading back in your direction before long.”

Lawrence Southwick showed up at the country house that same afternoon to offer his congratulations. “It’s a pity we couldn’t have gotten more out,” he said, “but at least the end’s in sight. Did you guys get close enough to see them? The ship, I mean?”

“I wasn’t there,” Alex said. “Chase went.”

“Why not?”

“I take up too much space.”

We were in my office. It was a beautiful day, unseasonably warm, and both windows were open, so we were getting a fresh breeze. Birds sang, and a gomper was tapping on a tree. “So what’s your next project, Alex?” he asked.

“Don’t know, Lawrence. We’ve been involved in a fair amount of trading recently, and I’m thinking about taking a vacation.”

“That sounds good. Any idea where?”

“Out to the islands, probably.”

“Sounds perfect. You deserve one.”

“I think it’s Chase who deserves one. But how about you? What are you up to these days?”

“Not much. Retirement does that to you.” He turned to me. “Chase, will you really be taking some time off, too?”

“No,” I said. “Somebody has to hold the fort.”

“Of course. I understand how that is.” He smiled at Alex. “I wish, during my working years, I’d had an associate like her.”

We did some more small talk, then he said good-bye. “If I can ever be of help, Alex, don’t hesitate to let me know.” We watched him lift off in his skimmer and head out over the river.

Alex sat quietly for a few moments. “Chase,” he said finally, “did you notice anything odd?”

“No,” I said, “nothing I can think of. Why?”

“The question about whether we’d given up on the Golden Age artifacts.”

“Alex, he never asked anything like that.”