The Long Sunset

by Jack McDevitt

  “But not black holes,” said Derek.

  They spent most of the first day in the passenger cabin, looking at canyons and coastlines and mountains and urban scenes. They knew movies wouldn’t work. Derek had begun reading Marie Esperson’s The Quantum World, while Wally buried himself in a police thriller. Arin enjoyed talking with Barry. Kwylla watched Ken and Hutch playing chess and picked up the rudimentary tactics over the course of an hour.

  On that first evening, they set the front porch on a bank of the Thames and got into a conversation over how good life had always been on Volaria and how fortunate they’d been to find Utopia. “We’re lucky to be getting a second chance,” Arin said. “Everybody’s grateful for that.”

  They discussed Barry’s role in making it possible to talk. “We have to get past this, though,” Kwylla said as the AI translated. “If we’re going to be of any use when we get to your world, we’re going to have to be able to speak without using machines.” Hutch, meantime, could not stop thinking about the reaction they could expect from Zhang Chao and President Proctor when the Eiferman arrived at Union Station with aliens onboard. She worried that Kwylla and Arin might not even get a chance to be heard.

  • • •

  On the second day, both Volarians got seriously to work on their language skills. Kwylla, who hadn’t invested the time her spouse had, spent additional hours in an effort to begin catching up. That same day, needing a break, she discovered the electronic library. “How many books do you have?” she asked Beth, speaking without the help of the AI.

  “Thousands.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m frustrated. I wish I could read some. Even one. Could Barry read one to me?”

  “I think we can arrange that.” Beth produced a set of ear pods and handed them to Kwylla. “What kind of books do you like?”

  “Fiction.”

  “Romantic? Mystery? Historical?”

  “What is mystery fiction? Where something happens without understanding and you try to find an explanation?”

  “Yes. Usually, it involves what we call a whodunit.”

  “What is that?”

  “Somebody commits a murder and the detective tries to find out who it was.”

  “What’s a murder?”

  “When someone kills someone else.”

  “He does it deliberately?” She looked surprised.

  “Yes.”

  “How is it different from fantasy fiction?”

  Beth was not immediately sure what she meant. “Don’t you guys have any murders?”

  “Not that I know about.”

  “I’m beginning to realize, Kwylla, your people may not have aircraft, but I think your level of development is way ahead of ours. Barry, would you be willing to read a novel for Kwylla, translating it for her?”

  “Of course.” Unfortunately, the AI had no command of the written Volarian language, which would have allowed him to create a version she could read.

  “Which novel would you like to hear, Kwylla?”

  “Wait.” Kwylla shook her head. “Translating is not helpful. Do it in original form.”

  “I understand,” said Barry. He started to read titles.

  “Wait, Barry,” she said. “Stop. Beth, I will tell you the kind of novel I would like so maybe you could recommend something.”

  “Sure. That’ll work.”

  “Good. Something funny. Lighthearted.”

  “Barry,” said Beth, “can you show me a list of whatever comic novels we have?”

  “I’m sorry, but the novels are not divided by category.”

  “Okay, put the entire inventory on display, okay?”

  Beth needed a few minutes but eventually found one she’d read several times. Probably the only book in her life she’d read more than once. “And what is that?” asked Kwylla.

  “Lucky Jim,” she said. “It’s by Kingsley Amis. It’s hysterical.”

  “I’m not sure I want something that would drive me to hysteria.”

  • • •

  On the fourth day, Arin joined Kwylla in dismissing Barry’s translations altogether. “It’s too easy that way,” he said. “And I don’t learn anything.”

  He and Kwylla remained fascinated by the display capabilities in the passenger cabin. Eventually, they asked what else was available, other than the Earth Catalog.

  Then, as Derek put it, they took them to the stars. They sat on the front porch as if it were floating in space, and looked at a sun up close, and an approaching comet that made everyone duck. They cruised past the red giant the Eiferman had visited on the way out. They floated under the Saturnian rings, and enjoyed a Photoshopped image of a Mars that had never existed, with water-filled canals glittering beneath the stars. They visited archeological sites on several worlds, which intrigued Kwylla and Arin. “What happened to the inhabitants?” they asked.

  Sometimes there were explanations. Sometimes not.

  Meanwhile, Beth ran tests on the Volarian food and concluded that terrestrial edibles would probably supply appropriate nutrients, although she couldn’t be certain. “No way to know for sure,” she said. “I don’t really have adequate equipment to settle every issue, and I’m not exactly an expert in the field.”

  Kwylla and Arin might have settled the issue themselves when they discovered a genuine appetite for ham, turkey, and pork roll. And, of course, everybody got a huge laugh the night they brought out the pizza. Their guests couldn’t get enough.

  Kwylla had a difficult time getting away from Lucky Jim. Comedy, which had baffled their guests earlier, now kept her laughing constantly while Barry read the original version. Periodically, she stopped him so she could repeat lines for whoever was nearby. At one point, she turned to Beth. “You know, I had no idea you people were so funny.”

  When she finished it, she asked whether the author was still alive.

  “Kingsley Amis?” said Beth. “No, he’s been gone a long time.”

  “That’s a pity. I’d have enjoyed meeting him.”

  Hutch was sitting alongside her at the time: “I’m pretty sure he’d have enjoyed meeting you too, Kwylla.”

  • • •

  As Kwylla and Arin grew more familiar with the language, and probably also with the culture of their friends, the comedy shows began to work. They sat and laughed with the others as Alex Brightman exaggerated his deep-space experiences in fruitless efforts to bed girlfriends. “Oh, wait until you get to do it without gravity.” And Minnie Blanchard, who did dazzling impersonations of President Proctor in White House Blues. Wally asked whether she was a relative of Derek’s. “I wish she was,” he said.

  Hutch and Beth tended to use the workout area at the same time. They invited Kwylla to join them. After some initial reluctance, she did.

  They talked about how enjoyable life on the starship could be, the probable reception they’d receive when they arrived at Union Station, what they were reading, and whichever movie they had watched the previous evening.

  They were well into the second week of the flight. Kwylla had not yet arrived for her workout when Beth got up from the mat on which she was doing push-ups, took a quick look through the open door, walked over beside Hutch, who was lifting weights, and lowered her voice: “You know, I hope we get a chance to do a biological analysis of them.” She was referring to their passengers.

  “Why’s that? You worried they might be carrying a disease?”

  “No, I’m not very much concerned about that. I think if it were an issue, we’d have seen it manifested by now.” Those hazel eyes sparkled. “But I’d love to know how their systems work. Do they have problems with epidemics? How are their brains different from ours? How do their reproductive systems work? How long is their life span? I think most of all, I’d love to find out if their DNA operates like ours.”

  “Maybe they don’t even have DNA.”

  She waved the idea away. “Oh, they’ll have DNA. And it’ll be sim
ilar to what we have. But of course it won’t be identical. I’d expect a helical structure with base pairs using simple sugars and so on, but we’re likely to get some surprises. Ken has been talking to them about their culture, which would be hard to separate from ours. Guys, for the most part, are the bosses, and females keep the family running. He says that comes from Arin, not from Kwylla. Arin thinks the guys need to pull up their socks and treat the females better.”

  “Sounds like us back in the old days,” said Hutch.

  Beth heard footsteps approaching and switched to talking about a Randy Harkman movie on the schedule for that night. Kwylla came in. “Hi, guys,” she said. “Sorry I’m late.”

  • • •

  A few days later, they watched a documentary about the Triassic period, with lots of dinosaurs charging around. Kwylla and Arin found it hard to believe such creatures ever actually existed. “I’m sure we never had anything like that,” said Arin.

  Kwylla laughed. “I’m reaching a point where nothing shocks me anymore.”

  “You sure about that?” asked Wally. “You never had any of those on Volaria?”

  “No. Not that I’m aware of. It sounds like something you’d only see in a fantasy book. Or in one of your movies.”

  “Come to think of it,” Beth said, “we have a movie with some dinos. What’s the title? Ummm—”

  “Breakfast with T. Rex,” said Ken.

  “That’s a comedy.”

  “I know, love. I think if we decide to watch any dino movies, we should stay with the light stuff.”

  “Actually,” said Derek, “I suspect there wouldn’t have been enough space for giant lizards on a world that is mostly ocean.”

  • • •

  As they moved into the last few days of the flight, Kwylla and Arin seemed to be growing somber. Hutch tried surrounding them with scenes from Barcelona, Venice, Tokyo, and Rome. But nothing really seemed to ease the malaise.

  They were all seated, looking down from a hillside in Athens. Directly ahead, the Acropolis stood outlined against a sunset. The conversation revolved around the ancient gods. “I guess,” said Arin, “people always have to explain to themselves how the sun sets on one side of the world and in the morning comes up on the other.”

  Kwylla abruptly changed the subject: “The trip is so long, it scares me.”

  “Why?” asked Beth.

  “You’re talking about sending an entire fleet back to help us? Twenty ships? Thirty? Whatever? Will you actually be able to find volunteers to do that?”

  “Volunteers,” said Derek, “will not be an issue.” His eyes clouded. “It’s the politicians we have to worry about.”

  Hutch realized she’d been missing something. She got up, went onto the bridge, and activated Barry.

  “Yes, Captain?” he said.

  “Hold on a second.” She was checking her notebook. “Okay. Let’s change the scenery in the passenger cabin. Use 462. But don’t start it until I give you the word.”

  “Will do.”

  She returned to the front porch, where they were still talking about how long the flight was and how fortunate they were to have the virtual views provided by the ship’s technology.

  “If no one objects,” she said, “let’s leave Athens for now. We’ve got something else you might enjoy.”

  “A volcanic eruption?” asked Ken.

  “That’s good,” Hutch said. “We should try that sometime. But I was thinking that I probably shouldn’t have turned this into just a sightseeing tour for Kwylla and Arin.” She raised her voice: “Barry?”

  The sunset and the hillside and the Acropolis blinked off, and a new scene appeared. A beach. With Volarians swimming and lying about under umbrellas with the ocean rolling in, while kids splashed through the surf.

  Hutch’s heart picked up a few beats when she saw Kwylla and Arin both smile. Minutes later, Barry switched over: The front porch had apparently been moved to the front of their cottage, near the temple, and they were able to relax outside their home, listening to birds singing and watching small furry creatures running up and down trees.

  Beth Squires’s Notes

  Ken recorded everything. When the book comes out, it’ll serve as a record of an accomplishment we’ll be proud of forever. Assuming we can actually make the fleet happen.

  —Thursday, October 2, 2256

  40.

  A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency, a great soul has simply nothing to do.

  —Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Self-Reliance,” 1841

  They entered the solar system well outside Pluto’s orbit, made a second jump, and surfaced close enough to Earth to pick up the vast array of lights on its night side. On a long flight, passengers usually spent the last days talking about how good it will be to get home again. But the optimism on the Eiferman had faded as they got closer and nobody was looking forward to talking with Zhang Chao. Kwylla had just finished listening to Barry read Allen Preston’s The Next Thousand Years, which predicted a dark future for humans, which had only served to fuel a growing sense that, for their alien passengers, the end was near for everybody. Hutch tried to ease the mood by predicting that Kwylla and Arin would be worldwide media sensations. “They’re going to love you guys,” she said.

  In two days, the flight would finally be over. Beth and Ken would be on their way to Rhode Island; Wally would be retained at the space station; she and Derek would be escorting Kwylla and Arin through the media. She hoped.

  She was looking forward to seeing her kids again. And Tom. And wandering through a shopping center. She couldn’t help thinking about the things in her life that really mattered, and the degree to which she took them for granted. Until they went missing.

  As they drew closer to Earth, a frightened look appeared in Kwylla’s eyes. “Everything will be okay,” Hutch told her. “We’ll be with you.” Reluctantly, she got up from her seat and signaled Derek. “We need to let Union know we’re back. We’re also required to inform them we’re carrying aliens. I don’t think that’s ever happened before.”

  “No, it hasn’t. This flight keeps making history.” He took a long deep breath. “It’ll cause a stir. You have any thoughts on how to phrase the report?”

  “We could start by suggesting to Zhang that he not get upset.”

  “Hutch, we can pass on the jokes.” He accompanied her onto the bridge.

  “Barry,” she said, “open a channel to the station.”

  A brief pause. Then: “Done, Captain.”

  She took her seat. “CommOps, this is the Barry Eiferman. We are back in the system. Estimated arrival forty-two hours.”

  The station responded: “This is Union, Eiferman. Welcome back.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Is everything in order?”

  “Yes. All’s well.”

  Derek held up a hand. He would take it from there. “Union,” he said, “this is Derek Blanchard. Be informed that we have two visitors on board.”

  “Visitors? Clarify, please.”

  “They are natives of another world.”

  “Eiferman, did I hear that correctly? They’re aliens?”

  “Yes, Ops. You did. They’re from an ocean world that has a serious problem.”

  “Roger that. I’ll pass it on to the director.”

  • • •

  There was no immediate response from Zhang, and life on the ship returned to normal. Ken worked on his notes. Derek and Arin talked about physics and philosophy. Wally became immersed in a game that required him to rescue a Roman strike team trapped by Egyptians in an alternate-universe version of the struggle between Augustus and Mark Antony. Kwylla, Beth, and Hutch took over the workout room.

  Later that afternoon, they settled in to watch the time travel film Quantum Waves, but they’d only gotten to the opening scene, in which a research team is getting ready to travel into the past to watch Charles Dickens speak t
o an audience in New York, when Barry stopped the movie and broke in: “Captain Hutchins, Union is on the circuit.”

  She got up and headed for the bridge, followed by Derek. “This is the Eiferman,” she said. “Go ahead, Union.”

  “Is this Captain Hutchins?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Wait one for Director Zhang, please.”

  The voice clicked off and the channel went to a steady stream of static.

  “That’s not good,” said Derek. “He always makes you wait when he gets annoyed.”

  Finally, he was there: “Hutchins.”

  “Yes, Director Zhang?”

  “Your arrival report says you have two aliens with you. Is that correct?”

  Derek broke in: “Of course, Director. It was at my insistence that Captain Hutchins took them on board.”

  “I was not aware I was speaking to you, Blanchard.”

  “Sir, I’d like to explain.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “They are in serious trouble and they need our assistance. Their world—”

  “Damn it, stop. Stop right there. We have our hands full keeping crazies from creating serious problems here. You really think—”

  “This is nothing like that, sir. Their entire world is about to be destroyed by a black hole.”

  “Oh. Good. So, you want us to do what? Deflect the black hole?”

  “Director, their population is relatively small. If we build a fleet, we can evacuate them. We’ve found a safe place for them.”

  “You’re not thinking of bringing them here, are you?”