Jack McDevitt - Coming Home

“Lights?” I asked.

Alex was seated beside me. “That’s not what I was expecting,” he said.

She increased magnification on the display. There were three or four lights on the asteroid. But we still couldn’t make out any details.

“Range 120 klicks,” said Belle.

“Are they reflections?” Alex asked.

“Maybe,” I said. “Could be some stuff left on the ground.”

As we drew closer, they brightened. And morphed into window lights. “There appears to be a structure,” said Belle.

It was a house . Like Linda’s, except that it was wider, more spread out, with rounded corners and a tower on one side. “Belle,” said Alex, “hail them for us. Find out if anyone’s there.”

Belle barely let him finish: “Alex, we have an incoming transmission.”

“Put it through.”

A woman blinked on: “Who’s out there?”

“ Belle-Marie ,” I said. “We were just looking around. Sorry to disturb you. Can you tell us where we are?”

She was young and attractive. Golden hair, blue eyes. And, I thought, she was happy to see company. “Don’t you know?”

Alex, who was not visible to her, frowned at me. “Well, more or less. We didn’t expect to find anybody here.”

“Actually, there’s a whole community here.”

“I didn’t know. My locator says you’re KL-4561. Is that correct?”

“Yeah. That’s us. You alone?”

“I have one passenger.”

“Okay. You’re welcome to drop by if you like. We’re always happy to have visitors. Don’t see many strangers, do we, Tori?” Someone laughed.

Alex nodded. Do it.

“Yes,” I said. “Sure. We’d enjoy stopping for a quick visit if that’s okay.”

“Beautiful. My name’s Amy. Come on in. We’ll turn the lights on for you.”

We swung around the asteroid to get a good look. “I don’t think it’s the one on the Flex cover,” I said. “But I can’t tell for sure.”

Alex was pressing his fingertips against his temples, like a guy with a burgeoning headache. “This is not going to be what we’re looking for.”

More lights came on, and the dome that enclosed the house became visible, along with a docked ship and a second docking area. We eased down into it, connected with the exit tube, and followed it into the dome. The interior had been transformed into a garden filled with hardscrabble plants that must have been able to get along without much sunlight. There were a couple of padded benches, a walkway, and a fountain though the water was apparently turned off. It was chilly but not as cold as I’d expected. As we approached the front door, it opened, and Amy appeared, alongside another woman.

“Hello,” she said. “Welcome to Amora. This is Tori, my wife.”

Alex hid whatever disappointment he might have felt. We introduced ourselves and went inside, into a lavish living room, with padded decalite furniture and a large coffee table. Thick curtains covered the windows. Amy drew them aside so we could see the garden and the stars. A piano stood on one side of the room, and pictures of mountains and rivers covered the walls.

We sat down, and a third woman came out of a doorway, carrying a tray with drinks. “This is Reika. My other wife.” All three looked pretty good.

We said hello and exchanged introductions.

“Beautiful home,” said Alex.

Reika looked around and said thanks while she and Tori served the drinks. Amy retreated into the kitchen and came back with a plate full of chocolate chip cookies. “Sorry, guys,” said Tori, “if we’d known you were coming, we’d have been better prepared.”

“You say there’s a community out here?” I said.

Amy and Reika both started to respond, but Amy got out of the way. “Oh, yes,” Reika said. “I wouldn’t exactly describe them as next-door neighbors, but we have a homeowners group, and we visit back and forth, and, when needed, we take care of one another.”

Reika was the smallest of the three, with black hair and dark eyes and, obviously, Asian blood. Tori was the tall one. Red hair fell well below her shoulders, and something in her manner suggested she was the one most likely to enjoy life in a remote place.

“So what brought you out here?” asked Amy. “Looking to move in?”

“Actually,” said Alex, “we were looking for an asteroid that used to be called Larissa. Ever hear of it?”

They looked at one another and shook their heads.

“Does this asteroid have a name?” I asked.

“Amora,” said Amy.

“Oh. Sure, I forgot. Did you guys name it?”

She smiled. “No. It’s always been Amora. As far as I know.”

I glanced at Alex. Tokata had spotted us and supplied a false lead.

He took a deep breath. “Anybody know Heli Tokata?”

They looked at one another again and shook their heads. “Who’s she?” said Tori.

“A young lady who has managed to stay a step ahead of us.” He sighed and turned his attention to the piano. “Who plays?”

Amy smiled. “I do. But Reika is the serious one.”

Alex tried his drink. “Excellent,” he said. Then to Reika: “What do you play?”

“The violin,” she said.

Tori finished her drink. “Anyone need a refill?”

Alex passed.

I opted for a second round. And Amy decided she could use a refill, too. “Reika can play anything,” she said. “But she’s a composer. She writes beautiful music, which is why we are here.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

Reika looked uncomfortable.

“Don’t be so shy,” Amy said. “You know it’s true.”

Alex was seated behind the coffee table on a long divan. “What kind of music do you write?” he asked.

Amy got up, walked over to a cabinet, opened it, and took out a violin. She handed it to Reika. “Show them, love,” she said.

Reika looked at us as if seeking approval. Tori returned with the drinks.

“Please,” I said.

Reika had been seated with Alex on the divan. She got up, shouldered the violin, and raised the bow. Then she began to play. I’m not sure what I’d expected, but the music was incredible. It was soft and majestic and wistful. It filled the room and subsided and filled the room again. Finally, somehow, it ended in heartbreak.

“It’s called,” said Tori, “‘Tides.’”

Amy sat with a triumphant smile playing on her lips. “Tell them about it.”

“It’s two lovers standing near the ocean,” Reika said. “Listening to the sea. And one of the two is saying good-bye. It’s over. I like you, but it isn’t going to work. And she walks off, leaving the other one to try to put his life back together.”

“When Reika writes a song about shattered love,” said Tori, “the people in the audience all get hit pretty hard.”

“You’re a professional,” said Alex. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. I used to play with the Ningata Symphony Orchestra. Tori did, too. That was how we met. I always loved composing, but I didn’t think I was any good at it. I showed Tori something I’d written. She took it and showed it to the Banner Boys. You know who they are, right? No? They’re pretty big.” We got a smile that suggested she was wondering where we’d been all our lives. “They asked if they could perform the piece. It was called ‘Seaview.’ I said okay, sure, and it became a big hit. After that, I knew there’d be no stopping me.”

“Marvelous,” I said. “You like oceans.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Yet you’re out here.”

“In the middle of the biggest ocean there is.” She put the violin down on a side table. “I’ve always loved oceans because of the sense that they go on forever. When I was a kid, I used to stand on the beach and listen to the rumble of the surf, and you couldn’t see anything all the way out to the horizon except water. There were no boundaries. No limits. I don’t know why, but every human emotion, out here, is also boundless. And there’s no reason for restraint. It’s where I get to be who I really am. Does that make any sense?”