Coming Home

Thirty-nine

The rest of that fifth day in the target zone passed without incident, other than one more false alarm caused by another late arrival. The pilot apologized and explained that he’d been given the wrong arrival date. He didn’t say how that could have happened, but as far as I know, nobody pressed the issue.

That period of quiescence ended when Belle came alive in the middle of the morning: “Message from the Dauntless.”

John’s voice again: “We have a confirmed contact. The Capella has arrived. Its position has been forwarded to your AI. We have not yet established a radio link with them, but as soon as we do, we will use the beta frequency to pass the transmissions on to all ships.”

“Here we go, Belle.”

“Yes, indeed. Good luck to us.”

“Belle,” I said, “will we be changing course?”

“Not at the moment. We are directed to maintain present status until otherwise informed.”

“Okay.” That was a disappointment: We would probably not be part of the rescue operation. I switched to the beta frequency and heard confirmation: A voice was assuring someone on the Capella that evacuation vehicles were on their way.

“What’s going on?” asked the Capella. “Why are all you guys out here?”

“Capella, are you aware what’s been happening?”

“We’re having a problem with the drive. Can’t seem to stay submerged. Every time we try to make our jump, we go down for a few hours, then we’re back under the stars again. Do you know what this is about?”

“Can you get the captain on the circuit for me? Quickly, please. This is an emergency.”

“You sound rattled, Dauntless. What’s happening?”

John took over: “Get Captain Schultz for me immediately. We don’t have time to waste.”

“Okay. Give us a couple of minutes, all right? Capella out.”

“Ask them,” I grumbled, “what year they think it is.”

“I can understand why they do not realize their situation,” said Belle.

“Where is it, Belle? The Capella? Do you have a read on it?”

“We haven’t been informed. I haven’t been able to locate it, but I’d guess it’s not within range, or they’d have started us toward it already.”

“Dauntless, stand by for Captain Schultz.”

And, moments later, a woman’s voice: “Dauntless, this is the captain. Are you having a problem?” She sounded annoyed. “Who am I speaking to, please?”

“Captain, my name is John Kraus. Are you aware of your situation?”

“That we’ve been forced to surface? Of course. Our drive unit is not behaving properly, but we haven’t been able to determine the precise reason. Mr. Kraus, how does it happen you’re involved in this? Do you represent—?”

“Captain, how long has it been since you left Rimway?”

“Three days. Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been disabled. I’ll explain in a minute. But time is short. You’re going to have to evacuate. We have ships in the area, moving toward you.”

“Evacuate? Why on earth would that be necessary? How did you even get here so quickly? We only sent out the report earlier today.”

That would have been sent the last time they were on the surface. It would have been a directional signal, aimed at Rimway. Or where Rimway had been eleven years earlier. Which meant no one would have heard it.

“Captain, you’ve been caught in a space/time warp. It’s 1435. You’ve been out here eleven years.”

“That’s ridiculous. Mr. Kraus, who are you really?”

“It’s true,” said John. “Have your navigator check his position. You’re not anywhere near where you think you are.”

I heard whispering. Then the captain was back: “We’re looking into it.”

“You don’t have much time. So you’re aware, I’m the director of a government effort to get you and your passengers and crew off that ship. You only have a few hours before you’ll be dragged under again.”

There was a long silence. Then a male voice with an odd accent: “He’s right, Captain. We’re way off course.”

“Incredible,” said Schultz. “It doesn’t seem possible. You say we’ve been out here eleven years?”

“That is correct.”

“Mr. Kraus, if you’ve no objection, I’ll wait for a response to my request for assistance before I start an evacuation.”

“Bear with me, Captain, but we’re pressed for time. When you surfaced before, how long were you up?”

“About nine hours.”

“All right. We’re going to assume that’s how long we’ll have this time, too. When you were pulled under, how long were you down before you resurfaced?”

“About twelve hours. Hold on a minute.” We could hear more talking in the background. Then she was back: “They’re telling me it was closer to fourteen before we came up again.” She was obviously angry. “We were trying to determine the nature of the problem when we heard from you.”

“Okay. We’ll get to you as quickly as we can.”

Schultz was slow to respond. But when she did, her voice had hardened: “How could this happen?”

“Let’s talk about it later. You’ll probably be dragged under again the same way this time.”

“Wonderful. When will the first ship be here?”

“In about three and a half hours. It’s the Ventnor. They can take twenty-eight of your people.”

“Twenty-eight?” Schultz laughed. “You have a hundred more ships coming in?”

“Actually, we have a thousand. The problem is that only a small fraction can get to you in the time we have available.”

“So what do you propose to do?”

“Captain, let me tell you about the lifeboats.”

I couldn’t resist trying to raise Gabe on my link. But there was no connection. I wasn’t surprised; we were much too far from the Capella.

“There’s also nothing to relay the signal,” said Belle.

“That’s more or less what I was saying.”

“I have their position,” Belle said. “We have six ships moving toward her. Five are yachts. The sixth one is a fleet cruiser, the Sadie Randall. Some good news here: the Randall has the full number of lifeboats on board, forty-four. But they’ll need six and a half hours to make the rendezvous. That will leave them about two and a half hours to transfer the boats.”

And then wait another five years to finish the rescue. “Belle,” I said, “how many people can the Randall take off? Through the airlock?”

“Her life-support system would allow her to take about a hundred. The problem is that she probably can’t unload the boats and pick up evacuees at the same time.”

“Damn.”

“Chase, we have an incoming message. A general broadcast to the entire fleet.”

It was John again: “Our prospects for bringing this off look pretty good. We expect to be able to transfer a substantial number of lifeboats to the Capella. If it stays with us as long as we anticipate, we will move enough over to be in a position to run a complete evacuation when she reappears in 1440. In addition, we expect to take a hundred or more people off today. I want to thank all who have participated and made it possible to create the rendezvous. Without your help, it could not have happened. Unless your AI has course instructions from us, you are now free to leave the search area.”

I thought about what was probably going on in the Capella at that moment. And I sympathized with her captain. Deirdre Schultz would probably be making an announcement, trying to explain what had happened to almost three thousand people who wouldn’t be able to believe what she was saying. Telling them a story she was having trouble accepting herself. Once they realized it wasn’t some sort of mad joke, once people understood that their worlds had grown eleven years older without them, there’d be tears and screams and probably some hysterics. And a lot of people saying how that was it for them with interstellar travel.

If I’d been in Schultz’s position, I decided, I would want to leave that part of the story until I got everyone off the ship. Except that she probably figured she’d be unable to get away with that.

“We have an additional message from Mr. Kraus,” said Belle. “For you.”

“Chase,” he said. “You and Alex have been major contributors to this effort from the beginning. If you’d like to stay with us, we’d be happy to have you.”

There was no point moving closer since I could not help. But I welcomed the invitation to stay in the area and watch. I suspected a lot of other people would be lingering as well.

“John,” I said, “thanks. I’ll hang on. Let me know if I can do anything.”

“You already have, Chase.”

Belle told me I looked unhappy. “Keep in mind,” she added, “that he’ll be back. Gabe, that is. Probably not today, but you will see him again.”

“I know. I just hate getting this close to him, though, and having him get away again.”

“It could be much worse. You should consider yourself fortunate.”

“I do.” I sat quietly, imagining Gabe arriving at the country house, coming up the walkway, and seeing how everything had changed.

Again, I must have said something because Belle took a harsh tone: “Listen, you’ve taken good care of the property, haven’t you? I know Alex quite well, and he would not allow it to deteriorate.”

“That’s not what I was thinking. Gabe won’t be happy when he finds out what kind of business we’re running out of it.”

“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.”