Coming Home

by Jack McDevitt

  “That sounds easy enough.”

  “If we can get the right setting, yes. It is—”

  “And if you get the wrong one—?”

  “Probably nothing will happen. If we get it seriously wrong, we might lose the ship. The problem is that we’re still learning about the settings. The Capella did its transdimensional jump in an area of space that had been damaged a quarter of a million years ago by a superdense object. Probably a black hole but not necessarily. A section of it literally wrapped itself around the ship. The drive unit dragged the vehicle and the section of warp forward. Time is effectively frozen on board. Fortunately, it surfaces at regular intervals for a few hours, before the interaction between the star drive and the warp drags it back under.”

  * * *

  The pilot was waiting in the passenger cabin. He said hello, welcomed us on board, and told us his name was Nick Kraus. “Are you related to John?” I asked. John Kraus was the director of the SRF.

  “Yeah. He’s my brother.”

  Shara grinned. “Nick usually pilots the big passenger cruisers.”

  “Like the Capella?”

  “I’ve been working the Morning Star these last few years,” he said. Nick looked good. Brown eyes, amiable smile. A bit taller than you’d normally find in a pilot.

  “So you’re here as the in-house expert?”

  “Something like that,” he said. “I’m on loan from Orion Transport. And I’m glad to be here. It’s much more interesting work than hauling around a couple of thousand sightseers.”

  Nick obviously knew Shara and JoAnn. “Chase,” he said, “have you been up here before? On Skydeck?”

  “On occasion.”

  Shara smiled. “She’s Alex Benedict’s pilot.”

  “The antique dealer?” He showed surprise.

  “Yes.”

  Nick was clearly impressed. “That must be interesting work. Have you gotten a chance to land on ancient space stations?”

  “One or two.”

  “Beautiful. I envy you.” He checked the time. “Okay, guys, good luck. You have the course directions?”

  “They’ve already been inserted, Nick.”

  “Okay. We’ll be leaving as soon as we get clearance. Should only be a few minutes. There’ll be about forty minutes of acceleration once we get started. I’ll let you know before we head out. Meantime, you might get belted down.” He disappeared onto the bridge.

  We settled into our harnesses. I was happy about getting to ride as a passenger for a change. I could hear Nick talking with the ops people. Then the engines started. “Okay, everybody,” he said. “On our way.” He had a quiet voice and an easy manner. “Everybody relax and enjoy the flight.” So I did. I eased back and looked out the window at the dock as it began to retreat.

  “Good luck to us,” Shara said to JoAnn. “You pull this off, and they’ll be giving you the Presidential Citation.”

  We passed out of the station. “Okay, ladies,” said Nick, “hang on.”

  * * *

  The Capella was expected to surface about twelve light-years from Rimway, in the general direction of the Veiled Lady. “I’m a little uncomfortable,” Nick said, “about getting anywhere near this entanglement. There’s no chance we’ll get stuck, I hope?”

  JoAnn shook her head. “No. The only drive units affected by these things are the Armstrongs. They were being replaced long before we knew about the issue with the space/time warps. We have a Korba drive. Which everybody has these days. But you know that, Nick. So no, there’s no need to worry.”

  “As soon as the Carver appears,” Shara said, “it’ll start transmitting. We should be able to get to it within a day or so.”

  “That’s our experimental yacht?” I asked.

  “Yes. The AI’s running things.”

  “I hope this works,” I said.

  “It’ll work.” Shara gave me a thumbs-up. “Don’t worry.”

  “If we bring this off, is it over? I mean, will we be able to get everyone off the Capella when it shows up? Or will there still be some reservations?”

  “What we really need,” said JoAnn, “is to run a test on one of the Capella’s sister ships. That would eliminate all doubt. We’re trying to talk Orion into loaning us the Grainger. They’ve been reluctant because they’re afraid we might lose it.”

  “There’s no chance of that happening, is there?”

  “Actually, there would be,” said JoAnn. “We’re in unknown territory.”

  “It’s unfortunate,” said Shara, “that TransWorld didn’t survive. They wouldn’t have had any choice but to cooperate.” TransWorld, which had owned the Capella, had been bankrupted by the incident, a combination of lawsuits and a general business collapse. Nobody had trusted them afterward.

  Nick’s voice came over the allcomm. “Okay, ladies, we’ll be making our jump in ten minutes.”

  * * *

  After we got into hyperspace, Shara and JoAnn got talking physics, so I looked for my chance and went onto the bridge. Nick was reading a book and eating a muffin. “How you doing?” I said. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Please do.” He picked up the box and offered it to me. “They’re good.”

  I took one. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. So is your life as adventurous as it sounds?”

  “I wasn’t aware it sounded adventurous. Mostly what I do is sit at a desk.”

  He looked at me for a long moment. “Chase, I’m worried about her.”

  “Who are we talking about?”

  “JoAnn.”

  “This thing’s getting to her?”

  “Yes. She feels personally responsible for the lives of the people on the Capella.”

  “How well do you know her, Nick?”

  “We’ve been friends for a few years. We met on the Grainger, when she was one of my passengers.” He was checking his instruments. “She’s the reason I got this assignment.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “The SRF needed someone who was familiar with the operational side of the cruise ships. John was reluctant to ask for me. It didn’t look good, I guess. I was his brother, and there’d be some question about his objectivity. But I’d been working with JoAnn on aspects of this for three years. She put in my name, and here I am.”

  “She seems fine to me, Nick. But I can understand she’d be feeling some pressure. I’m not sure I can do much to lighten the load, but—”

  “I know, Chase. Just be aware.”

  * * *

  We surfaced on target and, within an hour, picked up an automated transmission from the Carver. Nick opened the allcomm: “It’s up and running,” he said. “Stay belted in. As soon as I can lock down its position, we’ll be turning toward it.”

  It took a while, of course. When he’d gotten a second read on the transmission, he looked at me and shook his head. “We’re too far out.” Then he was talking to JoAnn again. “We’ll need about five hours to get to it.”

  “That won’t work, Nick,” she said. “It will probably have moved on before we’d get there. Head for the next target area. The delta site.”

  “Will do.” He looked down at the control panel and went to the AI. “Richard? How far do they expect the next appearance to be?”

  “About forty thousand kilometers, Nick. If it’s on schedule, it will be there at 1400 hours.”

  That gave us six hours. He went back to the allcomm: “JoAnn, Shara, we’ll be doing some maneuvering, then going through another acceleration. Once we get started, you’ll be stuck in the harness for about three-quarters of an hour.”

  “Nick,” said Richard, “we have another transmission. This one is from Barkley.”

  “JoAnn,” said Nick, “we’ve got Barkley.” He signaled me that he was talking about the Carver AI.

  “Put
him on,” said JoAnn.

  Barkley had a deep bass voice: “Casavant, everything has gone precisely according to plan. I am caught in the megatemp warp, have already been up and down twice. I am moving within the projected parameters.”

  “Okay, Barkley,” said JoAnn. “We can’t get to you before you go under again, so we’ll meet you at the delta site.”

  “Very good. I’ll see you then.”

  “How long have you remained in linear space after coming back up?”

  “Three hours, fifty-seven minutes, and fourteen seconds on the first appearance. The second one was about three minutes less.”

  “Okay. How much warning have you been getting before you become aware that you’re being taken back down?”

  “Less than a minute, JoAnn. About fifty-seven seconds.”

  “Okay. We’ll see you shortly.”

  “One more thing, JoAnn: What time is it?”

  “It’s 7:57 A.M. Why?”

  “It’s just after midnight here. I wanted to set the clocks to reflect reality.”

  * * *

  We reached the delta site in advance of the Carver and began closing toward the area where it was expected to arrive. But we were uncertain, so Nick kept a slow pace. We got out of our seats and returned to the passenger cabin, where JoAnn and Shara were talking about a rumor they’d heard that President Davis was going to apply pressure on Orion in an effort to obtain use of the Grainger.

  “Let’s hope it happens,” said JoAnn. “We really need access to it to lock this thing down.” She looked up at Nick. “When the Carver shows up, we want to get within visual range. Then, when Barkley feels the process starting again to take him down, that’s the moment to intervene.”

  “How exactly do we do that?” he asked.

  “We’ll be getting readings from Barkley about what’s going on in the drive unit. When we have those, I can give him some adjustments. Maybe it’ll break the process. Maybe not. We’ll have to see what happens. Probably, he’ll get hauled down, but he should reappear again within, I hope, a few minutes. And, if we’re lucky, that will be the end of it. If it works out—” She stared at me, and those dark eyes glittered. “If everything goes as planned, we’ll be a step closer to keeping the Capella from taking another five-and-a-half-year dive.”

  “Pity it’s not safe to go on board ourselves to do this,” I said. “It would be a little quicker than passing information to an AI.”

  That brought a glare from Shara, and I realized I was talking too much. “We had a discussion about that,” she said. “JoAnn wanted to do it, but John said no.” Now she was looking at Nick, but the irritation was fading. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “It would have given us a better shot,” said JoAnn.

  “Let’s let it go, okay?”

  “Well, anyhow,” I said, trying to recover, “this’ll probably work fine.”

  JoAnn nodded. “I hope so. It took almost four years just to get the math in place. The truth is there are too many elements to be certain. It’s not only design and mass, but there are details associated with the drive unit, how much power it generates and how quickly it comes online. And, of course, the nature of the damage that’s been done to the continuum. We haven’t figured out yet how to lock that down. We need more time.” She sighed. “This is a place we’ve never been before, Chase.”

  * * *

  The Carver reappeared on schedule. “He’s about an hour away,” said Nick, speaking over the allcomm. I was back in the passenger cabin.

  “So far so good.” JoAnn looked pleased. “Barkley, is everything okay?”

  “Everything seems to be running as planned, JoAnn.”

  The Carver was a low-cost Barringer yacht. They’d been popular at one time, but the company had stopped making them twenty years earlier. Gabe had owned one when I succeeded my mom as his pilot. It was clunky in comparison to the Belle-Marie, but it brought back some happy memories. There aren’t many of the Barringers around anymore.

  It took a bit longer than an hour, but eventually we pulled to within a few kilometers of it, off its port side. “Close enough,” JoAnn said. “Let’s stay where we are.” Barkley’s lights were on both inside and out. The ship looked occupied.

  “The thing should take effect again in about an hour and a half,” said JoAnn.

  We watched the display, which gave us a clearer view than we could get looking out the ports.

  Nick pointed out that no one had eaten, but he seemed to be the only person aboard with an appetite. He got some chocolate chip cookies from the dispenser, and we all ate a couple.

  The Carver floated quietly on the monitor, transfixed against the background of stars. I sat staring at it, literally praying, thinking how the evacuation problem was maybe about to go away. The Capella would arrive in three months, and we would get everyone off, and it would be over.

  And Gabe would be back.

  Shara commented that it was a new experience for her. “It’s the first time I’ve been involved in an experiment that had life-and-death consequences.”

  JoAnn turned away from the display and looked out through the portal at the Carver. She wanted to be over there. I could see it in her eyes. My own thoughts were centered on whether we were too close.

  I treated myself to a couple more cookies. There wasn’t much conversation. JoAnn seemed caught up in her notebook. Shara stayed by the portal for the most part. I thought about going back onto the bridge, but Nick hadn’t really suggested he’d welcome that, and I didn’t want to intrude. So I stayed in the passenger cabin and watched while the time ran down. JoAnn eventually pushed back in her seat and sighed. “Looks like about fifteen minutes.”

  The AI posted a countdown on the display.

  “Barkley,” JoAnn said, “let me know as soon as you feel something starting to happen, okay?”

  “Yes, JoAnn. Of course. I’m already sending the readings from the drive unit.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  Nick’s voice came from the bridge. “You want them posted, too, JoAnn?”

  “Yes,” she said. Then she turned to Shara. “I don’t think it’ll make much difference since I don’t really know what I’m looking for.”

  * * *

  “It’s beginning,” said Barkley.

  The readings were starting to move. Fuel input. Conversion levels. JoAnn leaned forward, tapped the screen with an index finger. Quantum resistance. “We’re in business. Damn it. I wish I were over there.”

  “Why?” demanded Shara. “You can’t do anything there that can’t be managed from here.”

  “Maybe not. But the reaction would be a bit quicker. Okay, Barkley, cut the feed by point two two.”

  “Complying. But everything’s becoming transparent.”

  JoAnn was studying the numbers on her display. “It’s still too high. Back off to one seven.”

  “Done—”

  The Carver’s hull was losing visibility. It faded from the display, but a ghostly silhouette remained. “Shara,” she said, “I wanted to be there because time of response is everything.”

  And the Carver was gone.

  * * *

  “All right,” said JoAnn. “Good so far.”

  Nick came in off the bridge. “You mean because it hasn’t exploded?”

  “I mean because nothing has happened. That’s okay. I would have preferred seeing it stay visible. But let’s relax. Time is passing at a different clip inside the ship. If we got it right, it may take a while for us to see some results.”

  Nick looked puzzled. “You said a few minutes.”

  “I was being optimistic.”

  So we sat and watched.

  “It might just go downstream and surface at the epsilon point,” said Shara.

  JoAnn chewed on her upper lip. “That would indicate it was still caught in
the warp. It would be a failure, but not a disaster.”

  It had been gone twenty-one minutes when we got a transmission. “JoAnn, I am back up. Not sure where I am.”

  Nick was back on the bridge. “I’ve got him,” he said. “He’s on track. About eleven thousand kilometers.”

  “Okay,” said JoAnn. “Not a complete success, but we’ve slowed it down.”

  Shara’s eyes closed. “We still don’t know where we are.”

  FOUR

  The bird of time has but a little way

  To flutter—and the bird is on the wing.

  —Edward Fitzgerald, tr., The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (c. 1100 C.E.)

  Three days later, the Carver was still adrift in linear space. The experiment had been partially successful, and people across the Confederacy were toasting JoAnn.

  Meantime, I was back at the country house, while Alex’s taxi drifted in at midafternoon and descended through bright cold sunlight into the snow cover. He hauled his bags up onto the deck, came inside, and dropped them by the door. “Congratulations, Chase,” he said. “Looks as if we’re on our way.”

  “I hope so,” I said. “JoAnn says she still can’t guarantee anything.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “So,” I asked, “how was the trip?”

  He shrugged. “Okay. Fairly routine until you and JoAnn and Marissa got into it.” He led the way to the conference room, which also served as a dining area, and sat down in one of the armchairs. “Tell me about the experiment.”

  “It wasn’t quite what they’d hoped for, but JoAnn sees progress.” I got us some coffee and described what had happened.

  “I’m sorry it wasn’t a complete success,” he said. “It would have made everything a lot easier.”

  “JoAnn’s looking over the numbers, and they’re hoping she’ll figure out a way.”

  “I was talking with John.” He meant John Kraus. “This was before you guys went out. He’s frustrated. They’ve been trying to get more ships from the fleet to help. He tells me it will be harder than they realized to break the Capella out of the warp because the damned thing is so big. JoAnn has it right, I guess. All they have to experiment with are yachts. They just don’t trust the results.”