Coming Home

Forty-one

Bark Peters provided close-up pictures of the lifeboat packages as they were sent one by one out of the Randall’s storage compartments. Twin jets were attached to the packages. Two crew members in green-and-white jet-assisted pressure suits traveled with each unit. They guided it across a gap of about forty meters into the Capella’s cargo hold, where some of the cruise ship’s people corralled it and took it into whatever open space they had available.

An additional four members of the Randall’s crew, with jetpacks, served as wingmen, hovering between the two ships, lending a hand where necessary. It was an efficient process, but it was slow. They lost control of one package, and two of the wingmen had to chase it down. On another occasion, one of the Capella’s people, apparently not paying attention, got clobbered by an incoming unit and had to be taken inside the ship.

By the end of the first hour, twelve lifeboats had been moved across and stored, and three were en route. They were slightly ahead of schedule, and the operation was improving as the two crews became more efficient.

Meantime, the Mary Lou Eisner arrived and took off an additional ten people, one more than expected. The Chang-Shi came in a half hour behind it and collected eleven more. Then we heard John’s voice: “Got a problem, Bark. One of the people from the Chang-Shi has gotten loose on the Capella. He’s taken control of the drive. Says he’s going to shut it down. Cease operations immediately and get clear.”

I was still getting pictures from the Randall, watching its crew continuing to move the lifeboats into the Capella. Despite the instructions, the Randall showed no sign of leaving. A few minutes later, John called me. “Chase, do you know an Archie Cicotte?”

“Negative.”

“He’s the pilot of the Chang-Shi. He’s on board the Capella. He’s the one threatening to shut down the engines. He’s telling them it’s the only right thing to do. That it will stop the ship from getting sucked under again.”

“You sound as if you expect me to do something.”

“He says Alex told him to do it.”

“What? That’s crazy, John.” Then I remembered. “Alex was on a show last week. The host—I forget who it was—asked him what he would want to happen if he were stuck on the Capella. He said he’d want somebody to shut down the engines. Take the chance. Something like that.”

“Well, wonderful. Now we have to deal with this lunatic who took him at his word.”

“I don’t think it ever occurred to Alex—”

“Let it go.”

“How’d he get into the control room?”

“Can we talk about that later? I need you to talk him down. Tell him who you are. That Alex didn’t mean it or something.”

How did I keep getting into the middle of these things? “Okay, John, put me through.”

We got a visual. I could see four crewmen keeping their distance from a short, beefy guy who was bent over the controls. Everybody’s eyes, except his, turned my way.

“Look,” he was saying, “I’m sorry I’m scaring the hell out of you people, but in a few minutes, you’ll all be glad I did this.”

“Archie,” I said. “You don’t really want to be responsible for killing twenty-six hundred passengers, do you?”

He spun around, surprised. “Who are you?” he said.

“My name’s Chase. I work for Alex Benedict. He’s my boss.”

“Really?” He straightened, and one of the people near him looked as if she was about to make a move, but Cicotte reacted, and she backed away. “Are you Chase Kolpath?”

“Yes. Please, Archie, get away from that thing before you kill everybody.”

Archie was about average size, middle-aged, beginning to lose his hair. He looked angry. “I’m not going to kill anyone. Chase, I’m glad to meet you. I’m sorry it has to be under these circumstances. But I’ve been an admirer of you and Alex for a long time.”

“Archie, if you shut that engine down, you may destroy everything. I’m serious. I’ve seen tests where they played around with the drive units, and people died.”

“Then why did Alex say that’s exactly what he’d do? That he’d shut the engines down?”

“He meant if he was alone on the ship. If he was the only one at risk, he’d take the chance. I know, Archie, because we talked about it afterward. Alex would never put other people at risk.”

“Chase, if I don’t do this, the people here will disappear out of the lives of their families for another five years.”

“Archie, do you have a relative on board?”

“No, I don’t.”

“A friend, maybe?”

“Did you and he really talk about it?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” He looked around the room. It was presumably the bridge. “Chase, I don’t know anyone who’s on the ship. Nobody.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because everybody’s been saying that the odds of something bad happening if we shut down is only about one in twenty. We can live with that.”

“That’s only a guess, Archie. It’s only a guess.” He stared at me. “If you do this, and you get lucky and nobody dies, everybody will still hate you. You really want to live with that?”

“This isn’t about me, Chase.”

“Okay. It’s about the families of the people on board. Think what you’d do to them if it goes wrong. Archie, you have no right to do this. To put other people’s lives on the line.”

He stood there, his face drained of all color. Then he backed away from the controls. “Chase,” he said, “help me.”

The Morrison came in on time and took off another dozen, consisting of three families and Guy Bentley. Bentley was the comedian who’d almost become the principal in a legal action. His studio was desperate to get him back. Their effort to accomplish his return by threatening to sue had failed, but they’d apparently cut a deal with somebody.

“I can’t believe John would sell out,” I said to Belle.

“I doubt he did. But Great Lion Studios has a lot of influence with politicians. I suspect they got somebody to put pressure on him. Don’t worry about it. To be honest, Bentley’s the funniest guy on the planet. I’m glad he’s back.”

“You’re glad he’s back, Belle? You always claimed you don’t have a sense of humor.”

“And you believed me? I’m shocked.”

We watched as the Morrison disconnected from the exit tube and moved away. Only the Randall remained, still steadily transferring its cargo of lifeboats. The smaller vehicles had taken ninety-five people off. Ninety-four if we deducted one for Archie, who’d been left behind. Schultz had supplied a spare pilot for the Chang-Shi. So we had about twenty-five hundred remaining plus a crew and staff of approximately sixty.

I’d counted twenty-six boats transferred as we got down to our last hour. Assuming we would have another hour.

I could see that the Capella cargo hold was filling up. When she went under, Schultz would have plenty of time to talk to her passengers, and get 540 of them into the first round of boats. Then, incredibly, they would arrive in 1440.

After that, there would be some time pressure. She had three cargo decks, and three boats could be inflated at a time on each deck. She’d have to repressurize, inflate the next round of boats, get sixty-four people in each, decompress again, and launch. Estimated time for the operation: slightly over an hour. If everything went smoothly.

She’d have to repeat the process four times. That should be manageable, but I didn’t envy her.

Then we were listening to John again: “Dierdre, we can’t be certain that we know when and where you’ll be back. So do not launch any of the lifeboats until we’ve established contact, and you know we’re within range.”

“I understand, John. And thank you for all you’ve done. You put a major flotilla out there, and we appreciate it.”

“We’re happy to help. And we’ll be back for you—”

No one, including Captain Schultz, knew precisely when the Capella had reappeared. But we were working off an estimate that had to be accurate within fifteen minutes or so. We were slightly more than halfway through the eighth hour when I got within link range and decided to try to contact Gabe. I wouldn’t reveal what was really happening because Kraus and Schultz wanted to keep it quiet, and we owed them that. I suspected the people on board had learned the truth by then, but I didn’t want anyone to be able to point at me.

It took a few minutes, and I kept the images of the lifeboat transfer on the navigation screen. But, finally, the circuit clicked, and Gabe was there! He was seated in what appeared to be a passenger lounge. The guy I’d believed for years I would never see again. “Hello, Chase,” he said, with a shocked expression. “Is that really you? What are you doing here? What’s happened to the ship?”

“Engine trouble, I think,” I said. “They’re going to be taking everybody off within the next few hours.”

“That much I’d heard. But I got the impression there was more to it than that.”

“We’ll talk about it when we get you off, Gabe. They’ve got lifeboats on board. Just grab a seat when you can, and we’ll see you at Skydeck.”

It’s impossible to be able to make a determination from a projection, but Gabe was reasonably tall, and had always exuded a take-it-easy manner. He had a full head of hair, and he looked younger than I would have expected. Of course, he hadn’t aged more than a couple of days since the last time I’d seen him. “Are you on the Belle-Marie?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Can you take me aboard?”

“Not right now, Gabe. The crew over there is a little busy.”

“Okay. By the way, I’m working on an interesting incident. What do you know about the Tenandrome?”

I couldn’t resist a smile. That was an old story, an interstellar that had seen something that people in authority had tried to keep quiet. It was what had brought Alex and me together. “Okay, Gabe. That’s something else for when you get back. You feeling all right?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just asking. We’ll be glad to see you again.”

“That’s an odd comment. It’s only been a few days. Is there something you’re not telling me? Are we in more trouble than they’ve been letting on?”

“No. There’s no major problem. Just get on the boat when they tell you to.”

“All right. How’s Alex?”

“He’s good. He’d want me to say hello.”

He was frowning at me. “Chase, you look different somehow.”

“Probably my hair. I’ve cut it back a bit.”

“I see that. But there’s something else. You look more serious. Or something.”

Older, I thought.

Suddenly, his image began to fade. It came back, then went away again. Completely.

On the main screen, I could see the crew hurrying, trying to move what would be the last two packages across to the Capella, which was also becoming less distinct. Two of them wore the Randall’s green uniforms. They were going to get caught over there.

Someone on the Randall was screaming for them to come back. The lifeboats were the thirty-fourth and thirty-fifth. The green uniforms kept going, and as the cruise ship faded from view, they went with it.

“Good-bye, Gabe,” I said.