Coming Home

Forty

I watched through the Ventnor’s scopes as she pulled alongside the Capella. The lights continued spreading out, on the bridge and across thrusters and scanners and gleaming from portals. It morphed gradually into a flying city. And the hull kept getting larger until it filled the display.

And we could hear the interchange between the operational officers on the two ships:

“That’s good,” said the Capella. “Hold it there. We’re opening the airlock. They’re carrying some bags. No major luggage, though. You guys going to have room for it?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“All right. Good. There are nine families. Twenty-eight people altogether.”

“Okay.”

“Lock is open. Tube’s in place.”

Exit tubes are constructed of plastene, supported by struts. The Capella’s reached across the thirty meters or so separating the two ships until it touched the airlock. The hull was replaced on-screen by the Ventnor’s interior. I knew the pilot, Janet Carstairs. I watched her leave the bridge and proceed into the passenger cabin, where she opened the inner airlock hatch. Then she checked to see that the tube was in fact secure. “Okay, Mike,” she said, “open up.” Mike, I assumed, was the AI.

“Complying.”

The hatch slid up into the overhead, and I could see into the tube. Lights came on along its length, and the interior of the Capella’s airlock appeared at the far side. “Clear on this end,” Janet said. She gave a thumbs-up and entered the tube.

The Capella replied: “Opening up.”

The clicks and whirls of the other hatch became audible. Then people appeared, crowded at the entrance. And voices encouraging one another. “Be careful, Penny.”

“I got the bag, love.”

“Is this safe, Mommy?”

Janet crossed over to the other ship, where a family of four, with a boy and girl, both about six or seven, waited in the airlock. Their father grappled with bags. Janet took one and led them into the tube. “Be careful,” she said. “Hang on to the rails. There’s no gravity.” The father came next, then the kids, scared at first, then giggling as they drifted toward the overhead. The mother brought up the rear, securing the children.

Other families followed.

Janet came out of the tube but stayed at the hatch to help as they reentered the gravity field. The passengers came out of the airlock, uncertain children, moms and dads looking confused and worried. “We don’t have cabins for everyone,” she said, “but we’ll manage.” She directed some of them toward the after section of the Ventnor, freeing up space. The last one through was a young woman who might have been alone. The twenty-eighth passenger. Janet was explaining how they’d get everyone settled as quickly as they could, but first they needed everybody to sit down, either where they were or in one of the cabins. “We’re short on seats,” she added. “So we’ll have to make do. Parents, we’d like you to belt yourselves in, then hold on to your kids. We want to get away from here to make room for the next ship coming in.”

We heard the voices from the Capella, announcing they were closing the airlock. Seconds later, Janet informed them she’d disconnected from the tube.

The passengers buckled down. A new voice, presumably the AI, announced they’d have sandwiches and cookies as soon as they got clear.

“Next ship,” said John, “will be the Deloi. They’re about forty minutes out.”

As soon as I heard the name I knew there’d be a problem. And I’m sure John was aware of it, too. But we needed all the ships we could muster. Deloi was one of the major cities on Borkarat, a Mute world. “That’s an odd name,” said Schultz. “Where’s it from, John?”

“It’s an Ashiyyurean ship.”

“Mutes?”

“Yes.”

“You’re having my people taken off by Mutes?”

“Things have changed in eleven years, Dierdre.”

“I’m glad to hear it. But my passengers aren’t going to want to get into a ship with Mutes. I mean, they still read minds, don’t they?”

“Tell your passengers not to think any embarrassing thoughts.”

“This is going to be a hard sell, John.” Somebody shut the transmission down at that point. I sighed. Kraus had obviously recalled that the conversation was being broadcast.

“Schultz’s right,” I said to Belle. “People still don’t want to be around them.”

“Well, Chase, I suppose they have the option of staying on the Capella for another five years.”

Mutes had come a long way in the human perspective over the recent past, principally through the assistance they’d rendered at Salud Afar. Nevertheless, even in this more enlightened age, their black diamond eyes, reptilian gray skin, and especially their fangs provided an unsettling appearance. But the real problem, as everyone understood, was that they knew what you were thinking. And, of course, Schultz’s passengers and crew, and she herself, had never lived outside that earlier era.

The broadcast would have been picked up by the Deloi, which left me wondering what its Mute pilot was thinking.

“They won’t be surprised,” said Belle, demonstrating a capability herself for reading minds.

When the Deloi showed up and docked with the Capella, they opened their airlock and we watched while thirty-three people walked through the exit tube and were greeted by the Mute pilot, who had to use a voice-box that also served as a translator. Everything seemed to go as smoothly as anyone could have hoped although the passengers were obviously unnerved. It didn’t help that Mute laughter sounds forced to humans, or maybe a bit like the laughter of a vampire. But, fortunately, there was only one alien on board.

Later, John told us that Captain Schultz, after assuring the selected families that there was no reason to be concerned about the Mute pilot and that everyone knew their telepathic capabilities were vastly exaggerated, added that she was expecting a delay before the next group would be able to get off. They would, she noted, be smart to go now while they could. She sent along a female junior officer whom everyone liked and trusted. “The only problem there,” said the director, “was that the junior officer was pretty nervous, too, but she was able to hide it.”

“Incoming call,” said Belle. “From John Kraus.”

“Chase.” He showed up on-screen, looking annoyed. “I need your help.”

“Of course, John. What can I do?”

“I may have misplayed my hand. You know who Robert Dyke is, right?”

“Sure.”

“You’re probably not aware of this, but JoAnn left some suggestions for him. On what she thought might work. You know, the drive-manipulation thing. It looks as if she did a lot of thinking about it while she was stuck on the Grainger. I passed what she had along to him. He’s on the Capella.”

“I know.”

“Okay. What you don’t know is that he’s talking about putting her ideas into action. He’s going to try doing what she did on the Grainger.”

“Well, that’s why you gave it to him, isn’t it?”

“No, it isn’t. Well, hell, I don’t know. I wanted him to be able to see what she thought, and maybe he could find a way to make it applicable. But he’s telling me that her comments are helpful, ‘illuminating,’ he said, but that there’s no way to be certain of the outcome. I’ve asked him to stay away from it if he can’t be sure. But he isn’t cooperating.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Talk to him. Tell him what the Grainger looked like when you were walking through it looking for JoAnn and Nick. Make him understand the risk he’d be taking.”

“John, why not tell Captain Schultz?”

“Dyke’s already talked to her. He’s convinced her he can make it work.”

“I wouldn’t have any influence with this guy, John. Maybe you should ask Shara to do this? At least he probably knows who she is.”

He hesitated. “I’ve already asked her. She won’t do it.”

“Why not?”

John looked like a man in pain. “She’s not sure what’s the right thing to do. Please, Chase, the lives of these people may hang on this. You were close to JoAnn. Maybe you can let him know she didn’t trust it.”

“I can’t believe anything I might tell him would make any difference, John.”

“You could be right, Chase. But you’re all we’ve got. Think about what you saw on board the Grainger. Imagine what it would have looked like if there’d been more than two thousand people on board.”

That provided a chill. “All right,” I said. “Can you connect me with him?”

“Give me a minute. We’re going to tell him who you are and that you wanted to speak to him. Okay?”

“All right.”

“By the way, I’ll stay on audio.” That almost sounded like a warning.

The screen went blank.

I sat there staring at it. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

The next voice I heard wasn’t John’s: “Okay, Robert—We’ve got her.”

And a face blinked on. “Chase?”

“Yes. Hello, Professor Dyke.”

In photos, Dyke came across as solemn, humorless, cocksure of himself. But the image on the display belied all that. He was worried and looked as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders though he nevertheless managed a smile. “Hello, Chase. I understand you wanted to talk to me?”

“Uh, yes, Professor.”

“I’m Rob,” he said. “Please keep it short. I’m busy at the moment.”

“Rob, I understand you’re thinking about trying to do the same thing that JoAnn Suttner did on the Grainger?”

“No. That’s not correct. I’m changing the formulation.”

“But you can’t be certain it will work, is that right?”

He stared at me. The smile was gone. “Chase, I think I understand what this is about. And I believe I can save us both some time. No, to answer your question, in a matter like this, there is no absolute certainty. But we have the next best thing. JoAnn has passed me some data, and some after-the-fact speculation that is very helpful. I don’t think there is any realistic reason to be worried.”

“Robert, walking through that dead place picturing what happened to JoAnn and Nick was possibly the worst experience of my life.” That was, of course, a lie since at the time I had no idea what had happened to them. “I cannot imagine what it would be like to condemn almost three thousand people to that kind of death. Please don’t do this.”

“I need to cut this short. Let me ask you a question: If you were here with us, what would you want me to do? Provide you an almost certain ticket home? Or back off and cause you to lose another five years of life with your friends and family?”

I guess I stared back while I fumbled for a reply. “I—”

He waited. Then: “I guess that’s clear enough, Chase. Maybe we’ll have a chance to talk again sometime.”

He blinked off. And John was back, glaring out of the screen at me. “Well done, Chase,” he said. “If he kills everybody, it’s on your head.”

It left me in a rage. I sat there staring at the mike, rehearsing what I would say to John Kraus when I called him back. How in hell had this become my call? I was still fuming over it, trying to figure out what I wanted to say, when Belle told me John was on the circuit again.

“Tell him I’m busy,” I said.

“I think you should take it, Chase.”

Why not? I had a few things to say to him anyhow. Might as well get them said.

John’s face appeared on-screen. “I’m sorry, Chase. That wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have put you into that position.” The lips softened into a smile. “I apologize.”

“It’s okay.” It’s all I could say.

“I owe you.”

“You know,” I said, “no matter what I told him, Dyke wasn’t going to change his mind.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I hope so, John. Because at the moment, it’s the only thing keeping me sane.”

Another general broadcast came in: First a voice we didn’t recognize: “We are on approach, John. Will rendezvous in about twenty minutes.”

“Glad to hear it, Bark. Capella has opened its cargo hold.”

“The reference,” said Belle, “is to Bark Peters, captain of the Sadie Randall.”

“Bark,” said John, “I have estimated time to transfer lifeboats as approximately three hours. Has there been any change?”

“Negative that.”

“And you have forty-four boats?”

“Confirmed.”

“All right. The three hours will take you right up to, and maybe a little past, the projected Capella departure. You have no wiggle room.”

“I’m aware of that, John.”

“One other thing: Be careful. Break off at the first sign of instability. We don’t want you getting pulled down, too.”

“I’ll take care of it, John. You can leave the details to me.”

He didn’t sound very flexible.

“Okay. Have it your way, Bark. FYI, we also have a yacht closing. The Mary Lou Eisner will arrive within minutes after you guys do.”

“I hope,” I said, “it’s not another Mute.”

“The Mary Lou Eisner?” said Belle. “That seems unlikely.”

“I was kidding. What’s its capacity?”

“Nine people.”

“We could do better.”

“It would be close.”

“There are—what?—two more coming in after that?”

“Yes. The Shang-Chi and the Morrison. They’re about an hour apart. Both small, so they won’t be able to take many.”

“At least they’ll be in and out quickly.”

We were getting pictures from the Randall as they approached. “I have a question for you, Belle,” I said.

“Okay.”

“Who was Belle-Marie?”

“Her last name was McKeown. She was one of Gabe’s girlfriends. A special one.”

“What happened to her? They never married?”

“No. She walked away from him.”

“She walked away from Gabe?”

“Yes. Damaged him emotionally, I believe.”

“And he named his new yacht for her?”

“I thought it was strange, too. Why do you pay tribute to somebody who discards you? He could have called it the Giddy-Up or something. But he told me she never knew about it.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Gabe was, is, kind of tough on the surface, but down under all the manly stuff, he’s pretty sentimental.”

“Did you ever meet her? Belle-Marie McKeown?”

“Yes. I have it from others who saw her that she looked good. I do not normally develop emotional reactions to people. Certainly not based on their appearance. But I will confess that I never cared for her.”

“Because of the way she treated Gabe?”

“No. I didn’t like her before that happened. I’m not sure I can give you a reason. She was a bit distant. I think Gabe always realized he wasn’t going to be able to hold on to her, but he stayed with it as long as he could.”

Bark Peters came back: “John, we are pulling alongside the Capella now. Lifeboats will be on the move in three minutes.”