Jack McDevitt - Coming Home

“Was it worth it?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” the woman said. Her name was Myra. “It was an extraordinary experience, seeing all those places I’d read about. It’s a beautiful place.”

We ran some shows from Belle’s library, a couple of musicals and some comedies. And we did some game-playing. We rescued a stranded team from a space station that had been hit by a comet and was sinking toward the atmosphere, fought off some evil aliens, and beat some bad guys into the Pyramid of Ulsa, where we salvaged the Golden Pearl.

Somehow, the games became the reality, and going home to a world that had aged eleven years receded into fantasy.

When we made our jump back into linear space, we found ourselves about thirty hours out from Rimway, which floated serenely in the sky ahead, with the Moon off to one side. I let Skydeck know we’d arrived and sent all the messages.

“Great, Chase,” said the comm op. “Good to hear your voice. Please send us a list of the people on board with their home addresses and birth dates.”

We collected the information and forwarded it. Then I asked the station whether anyone had brought Gabe in yet.

“Let me check.”

James was sitting beside me. “Who is that?” the boy asked.

“Alex’s uncle,” I said.

“Was he on the Capella , too?”

“Yes.”

He smiled. “He’ll be glad to get home.”

And, after a few more minutes, the response came: “Sorry, Chase. We don’t have anything yet. But we only have a few of the names. Give it some time.”

I said thanks and signed off.

“Why,” said James, “don’t you ask her to let you know if he shows up?”

“She’s probably buried with requests like that,” I said. “I didn’t want to give her anything else to keep track of.”

The thirty hours stretched out. Everybody was desperate to get to the station. Skydeck contacted us again. “Chase, your passengers will be taken down to Markala City. We know that’s not convenient for them, but we’ll arrange additional transportation as necessary. We’ll be giving their names and itinerary to the media unless they object. Please check with them.”

Nobody objected. Within the hour, transmissions began arriving. Relatives saying hello and how good it was to know they were safe, friends welcoming them back, asking whether they could help, could maybe meet them at the terminal. Sally received a message from her husband. She didn’t tell us what he’d said, but she wore a happy smile for the rest of the flight.

There weren’t enough bunks, so they’d been switching off. I stayed on the bridge for the most part and gave my cabin to the two unaccompanied women. The games gradually stopped, except for the kids, and mostly everybody talked about what it would be like to get home. A lot of questions were directed at us. Had anything changed? Who was president of the Confederacy now? They’d heard that the Mutes had actually become friendly. How had that happened? Had they really come a few days ago to participate in the rescue? (They were still counting time by their own calendar.)

There was talk of legal action against Orion. Did Alex think they’d been culpable in any way?

“I doubt it,” he said. “Nobody saw anything like this coming.”

“Is Uncle Marvie still on HV?” asked James. Uncle Marvie had been enormously popular a decade before, but comedy tends to change between generations. He’d lost his audience and dropped out of sight.

“Do you know how the Phantoms have been doing?” asked one of the guys.

The Phantoms represented Corbin City in the National Wallball League. I don’t stay up with it, but I knew they were famous for an inability to handle the ball. “I don’t think much has changed,” I said.

And so it went.

Eventually, I turned the vehicle over to Skydeck. They brought us in smoothly, told us they were glad to have us back, and eased us into Dock 4.

The concourse was empty when we arrived except for some medical staff and a few station personnel. We said good-bye to our passengers as their names got checked against a list. Then they were turned over to the medics. No one had any medical complaints, so they simply asked a few questions and gave the passengers some forms to sign. Then one of the staff members pointed toward the terminal area. “Shuttle’s waiting,” she said.

I’d never seen the station so empty.

Alex nodded. “They cleared it. Last thing they’d need would be an army of reporters and relatives.”

I looked back at the staff person. “Do you need us to go out again?” I asked. “Back to the Capella ?”

“No, we’re fine,” she said. “Thanks for helping.”

Alex asked the one with the list if he knew whether Gabriel Benedict had arrived yet.

“Don’t know, sir,” he said. “I’m sure they can tell you at the terminal.”

Nobody at the terminal had any idea. We climbed into the shuttle, which also carried some of the passengers who’d come in on the Bangor . I sat beside Juanita, one of the two lone women. On the way down, she told me that an old boyfriend would be waiting for her.

“That’s pretty good of an old boyfriend to wait all these years.”

“Well, I suppose,” she said. “Of course, he wasn’t an old boyfriend last time I saw him.”

Three-quarters of an hour later, we got instructions about connecting flights and descended into Markala City. Everybody said good-bye as they got out of their seats, and thanked us. A swarm of reporters were waiting, including a couple who apparently knew the family with the kids. A guy came over to Juanita, and they fell into each other’s arms. He looked too old for her, and I guess I finally got the joke.

Alex and I arrived in Andiquar shortly after sunset and grabbed a taxi. “First thing we should do tomorrow,” he said, “is get in touch with Marissa.”

“I’ll set it up,” I said.

“No hurry,” Alex said. “Let’s take care of it in the morning.”

We watched the gathering darkness settle over the western half of the city. Then we picked up the Melony, and, within a few minutes, we were starting down toward the country house. “I’ll be getting off here,” Alex told the autopilot. “Take Chase to 451 Khyber Lane.”

“Yes, sir,” said the AI.

“But,” I added, “you’ll have to wait a few minutes for me. Okay?”

“I’ll put it on the clock.”

“Why?” asked Alex. “Did you forget something?”

The country house had once been an inn, providing services for hunters and travelers. But the surrounding forest had been substantially replaced by crystal houses and carefully manicured lawns. “Look.” I pointed down at it.

The lights were on in Gabe’s office.

He came out onto the front porch as we descended onto the pad and waved at us. Alex was out of his belt and opening the door while we were still a few meters off the ground. “Premature,” said the taxi in a stern voice. “A penalty will be assigned.”

“Whatever,” said Alex. We touched down, and he climbed out. Gabe broke into a huge smile, came down the steps, and hurried across the cobblestones. They both stopped, stared at each other for a moment, and, without a word, fell into each other’s arms.