Jack McDevitt - Coming Home

“More or less. What’s going on?”

“Tie yourself in. The Capella ’s back.”

“Marvelous! Everything okay?”

“Yes. There was a message from Robert Dyke. Apparently he came through.”

“Beautiful.”

“I guess we didn’t hear how long they might stay afloat?”

“Negative.”

Another ship, the McAdams , was just departing Skydeck on the same mission. We wished each other luck. I knew the pilot, Sally Turner. Not well, but enough to say hello whenever we met. She was serious and reserved, not given to getting carried away by any momentary emotions. But on that occasion, she sounded deliriously happy. Let’s go get them, baby.

Optimism comes easily, I guess. It felt as if, during that first hour under way, we had it right this time. Everything would be okay. Time to raise a glass. Alex gave way to near jubilation. Maybe because it had all come out of the blue. Maybe because of that one line. Hello from Robert.

We slipped into transdimensional space, which cut us off from the rest of the universe. We spent time entertaining ourselves as best we could. Alex buried himself in his books while I watched comedies and played chess with Belle. As we drew closer to our destination, I realized there was a good chance we’d be met by the news that the Capella had been swept under again. Alex was obviously weighed down by the same concern. But we both remained optimistic.

As we approached the end of our jump, I started a mental countdown. Couldn’t help myself. Two hours until we arrive.

One hour.

Alex kept checking the time, too, although he tried to hide what he was doing. He liked to think of himself as a rationalist, always in control, not given to emotions. But it was all a show.

He was back and forth on the bridge. He’d come up, sit down, say something of no consequence, get back on his feet, and disappear. I’d hear voices in the passenger cabin, somebody doing a historical analysis of the City on the Crag or the Maven War, then it would cut off and be replaced by soft music, then it would go silent. A few minutes later he’d be back on the bridge. When finally I told him to relax, he got annoyed. “I’m fine,” he said.

Eventually, Belle spoke: “Four minutes to end of jump.” It was almost a whisper. She understood the mood.

Alex, who was beside me, didn’t move except to activate his harness.

Standard procedure when you complete a jump is first to determine where you are in relation to your destination. Not this time. “Find out if they’re still there,” Alex said.

I sent out a broadcast signal: “This is the Belle-Marie . To anyone who can hear me: What is the status of the Capella ?”

Alex straightened his harness.

Belle said, “I am trying to establish our position, but I will need more time.”

“It’s okay, Belle,” I said. “Let us know when you have it.”

I listened to the air moving through the life-support system. And to the hum of the drive unit. And to the silence roaring out of the speaker. “It’ll probably take a while,” I said.

I couldn’t make out Alex’s answer.

Then, finally: “ Belle-Marie , this is the Falcon .”

“Hello, Falcon . What’s the situation?”

“The Capella ’s still up.” We both raised a fist. Clasped hands. If I could have reached Alex, I’d have kissed him. “They’re transmitting. I don’t think anybody’s actually reached them yet, though.”

“That’s okay. As long as they’re still on the surface.”

“Welcome to the party.”

“Chase,” said Belle, “we’re getting something from them now. From the Capella . Sounds like Captain Schultz.”

It was, indeed: “To anyone arriving in the area: We are awaiting assistance. Robert tells me he believes we have stabilized. But we cannot be certain. McAdams , we are glad to see you. First boats have launched.”

“Chase,” said Belle, “I’ve located the source of the transmission. I’m putting it together with information from the Falcon . You will be happy to hear we are only eight hours out.”

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s move.”

We listened while the Dorothy Viscidi picked up seventeen people and pulled away. The McAdams was closing. We caught a glimpse of two lifeboats through its scopes. The cabin lights in one were still on, but we couldn’t see whether anyone remained inside. The Akim Pasha was coming in behind the McAdams . An hour later, the Vertigo arrived and pulled alongside to take people directly out of the airlock. We heard Captain Schultz’s voice, assuring someone that everything was proceeding quite well. “The Bangor ,” she said, “the Carol Rose , and the Zephyr are all less than a few hours out.”

The Bangor was a cargo vessel that should be able to take off close to three hundred. The others were all yachts. Like us.

Alex was having a difficult time. I knew he wanted to talk with Gabe. Ideally, he’d have liked to pick Gabe up and take him home in the Belle-Marie . “It would be a nice ending,” I said.

“Yeah, it would, Chase. But stuff like that only happens on HV.” He collected a cup of coffee, asked if I wanted some, and came back and sat down. “When you write this, you could arrange to have it happen.”

“Nobody would believe it, Alex. Even if we did run into the lifeboat carrying him, I wouldn’t be able to write it that way.”

We were getting pictures from everyone who was close to the Capella . We watched the Vertigo pull away. The Capella ’s cargo deck opened, and another lifeboat escaped. Ninety minutes later, the Rose moved into position to take people directly out of the airlock. They were still at it when the Zephyr rendezvoused with one of the lifeboats. Then, after another hour, it was Bangor ’s turn.

Captain Schultz returned to the radio: “When the Bangor leaves, we will be down to 2106 passengers and crew. I’m happy to report we still have stability.”

“That doesn’t mean much,” I told Alex. “When it comes time to get swallowed, there’s not much warning. Not from what I’ve seen.”

The rescue units continued to arrive, one or two every hour. Then, suddenly, there were six, including a fleet cruiser, which took off another three hundred.

There were no Mutes this time. And nobody coming from a distant port. There’d been no time for anyone much farther away than Skydeck to arrive on the scene.

Eventually, we got close enough to think about contacting Gabe on his link. Alex tried, waited, and shook his head. Still out of range.

And then, finally, it was our turn: “ Belle-Marie , you’re next. We’ll be launching another boat in about thirty minutes. They will provide a signal. Just follow it in and take as many off as you can. What is your capacity, please?”

“Ten,” I said.

“Very good. Take on ten, then depart immediately. And thank you for your assistance.”

“Hello, Belle-Marie . This is Case Harley on Lifeboat 11. We’re glad to see you.” It was a happy voice. The lifeboat was only a dim blinker on the navigation display. “We’ll be ready to go when you get here.”