Coming Home

Fifty

“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.”

“We’re about forty minutes out,” I told them. “How many of you are there?”

“Nineteen.”

“We can only take ten.”

“We know that. They told us. There’s somebody else coming in behind you.”

By then we’d heard that another forty people had been rescued from the Capella. And that the Silverton was approaching it, as well as another yacht. The Silverton was a transport and would be able to accommodate almost two hundred passengers. Of course, the critical news was that the Capella, then nearing the end of her fifth day, was still on the surface.

I couldn’t resist trying for Gabe. “You don’t by any chance have anyone named Benedict on board, do you?”

I heard Harley asking, heard the silence.

“Negative,” he said. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay. It was a long shot.”

We also received an update from John Kraus: “So you’re aware: Robert Dyke managed the fix. He describes it as temporary but says it will probably hold. There’s no way to be certain, though. So time is still of the essence. We have a sufficient number of vehicles coming in, but we’ll need at least another two days to get everyone off. We appreciate the efforts of everybody who has helped. If you need to reach me, I’m on the Heyman.”

Lifeboat 11 gradually brightened. It took shape, and we could make out individual lights, some on the hull, others in the cabin. “Can we do anything to help?” asked Harley.

“Just sit tight. We’ll take care of everything.”

They were coming in our general direction, and we’d been braking for almost two hours. “Chase,” said Belle, “I see the backup yacht.”

“When will they be here?”

“In another hour.”

And Harley again: “Do you guys know what happened? Is it really 1435?”

“Yes, Case. The Capella got caught in a time warp.”

“But we’ve only been on board a few days.”

“Sit tight, Case,” I said. “We’ll have you guys off in ten minutes.”

We drew alongside. When we were in position, Belle signaled the lifeboat, and the connecting tube activated. It expanded across the approximately forty meters separating us and used its magnets to secure itself to our airlock. “Everything’s in place,” Belle said.

I opened both hatches. The tube was flexible, so I couldn’t see all the way across. “Okay, Case,” I said. “You can send your people through the airlock. Ten of them. If you can, try to keep families together.”

“Of course,” he said. “They’ll be right over.”

They came into the passenger cabin, looking tired and frightened. There were three elderly couples, one with two kids, a boy and a girl, both about twelve or thirteen. They told us they’d decided to take the grandchildren for a “space ride.” “Bob and Mary must be frantic,” they said. The parents, I assumed.

The other two passengers were both women, traveling alone. One, whose name was Sally, had been headed to the City on the Crag to join her journalist husband, who’d been working on a documentary. “I haven’t been able to reach him,” she told us. “I’ve no idea even how to begin.”

The other, Juanita, had been on a business trip and appeared to be in a state of near shock. “I can’t believe I’ve lost eleven years,” she said.

We got everybody situated as soon as they were on board. I told them we’d be belting down shortly and that we’d stay that way for about forty minutes. Alex played the engaging host while I went onto the bridge and got us disconnected, talked briefly with the incoming yacht that would take off the rest of the people on the lifeboat, and said good-bye to Case Harley, who’d stayed behind. Then, finally, we were ready to move. Alex gave his cabin over to the two kids though one of them came up to sit with me on the bridge. When everyone was settled, we pulled away and began to accelerate.

I overheard some of the conversation as we moved out of the area, how glad they were to be off the lifeboat, while one of the women mentioned it was the same thing they’d said as they left the Capella.

“I’ll sue their pants off,” said one of the men in an angry voice.

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” said another male, “I’m never getting on one of those damned things again.”

It didn’t much matter who was speaking; the comments were all the same, how their children were now in their forties or fifties, whether Aunt Lucy was still alive, what had happened to their homes, how hard it was to believe that Janet would now be fourteen, for heaven’s sake.

One of them, a tall, worried-looking male, demanded assurances that when we made our jump, we wouldn’t get stuck again. When I told him it would be okay, he asked how I could be certain.

“We have a different kind of drive,” I said. “Besides, we’re nowhere near the time/space area that’s damaged.”

He stared at me. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, “but I wish I could believe you.”

Finally, we made our descent into transdimensional space, and they were all free to walk around again. That was when we started hearing more details of their experience. “You don’t want to be out here and get told you need to be rescued,” said one of the older women. “They kept telling us everything would be okay, that there was no reason to worry, and that just scared me to death.”

The girl, whose name was Rinnie, told me, under her breath, that the woman scared pretty easily.

Mostly what I picked up was simply disbelief that eleven years had passed since they boarded. Sally looked terrified. “My husband thinks I’ve been dead for eleven years,” she said. “He’s probably married again.”

“There’s just no way to know for sure,” said Alex, in his most soothing tone. “But we’ve been aware of what happened for several years, and that the passengers figured to be okay.” He looked around at the others. “If you want to send transmissions, let everybody at home know you’re all right, you can do that, and we’ll send them onto the station as soon as we get back into linear space.”

In the end, everybody prepared at least one message. Even the kids, who recorded comments and assurances to friends and relatives and, in one case, a teacher.

We got to know each other pretty well on the way home. We exchanged contact information, talked about getting together, watched while a grandmother tried to explain to the kids that their friends were all now adults. “That doesn’t mean they won’t still be your friends,” she said. “But things will be different.”

Both children said no, they couldn’t believe it. “Mike will always be there.”

I felt sorry for them. I tried to imagine how I’d have felt to lose all my friends when I was twelve. To know they were still around but not really.

Rinnie spent a lot of time with me on the bridge. She was struck by how dark it was outside and that there were no stars. She talked with Belle, who blinked and booped for her, making her laugh. “One day,” she said, “I’d like to be a pilot. Like you, Chase.”

“You’d enjoy it,” I said.

Her brother eventually joined her and told me the same thing. Their grandfather followed him through the hatch and wanted to move him away. “You’re bothering the pilot, kids,” he said. “Leave her alone.” Of course, the truth was that the only reason I was even sitting on the bridge was that there was no room in the passenger cabin.

Of the other two couples, one was on their first off-world vacation, which they assured me, despite everything, they would try again as soon as they could get their lives back together. The other pair were returning home to Sanusar after a tour that had taken them to Earth. “Always wanted to see it,” they said.

“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.