Alex Benedict 07 - Coming Home (21 page)

A transmission came in from John Kraus.
“JoAnn,”
it said,
“good luck. Keep us informed.”

Nick responded a minute or two later:
“JoAnn’s doing math right now, John. But we’re fine. Waiting for the warp to kick in. We’re still four hours away.”

*   *   *

Richard set another countdown going to mark the time since
Grainger
had arrived in the target area. If everything went according to plan, it would reappear shortly after being taken down, we’d get JoAnn and Nick off and return to Skydeck. Then we’d sit it out for a few days. If the
Grainger
remained stable, we’d go back and retrieve it. Eventually, it would be returned to Orion which, Shara told me, was already complaining that its customers wouldn’t want to travel on it after this.

As the countdown proceeded, we simply sat on the bridge, exchanging encouragement and assurances with JoAnn and Nick and with each other.

The long silences made everyone uncomfortable, on both ships, but every topic other than the one that hung over our heads seemed trivial. Nick and JoAnn, at different times, both said how they wished it was over. That they wanted it done with.

So did I. I resisted making any more suggestions that they should clear out of the
Grainger
while there was still time. That we could swing in close, and I could take the lander over and get them off. Of course, I knew the answer I’d receive, how they
had
a lander on board if they needed one. I thought about approaching the subject sideways by inquiring whether their lander would be safe, or whether it would also be caught when the warp activated. But that, too, had an obvious answer.

I looked over at Shara. “Do they really have to stay on board during all this?”

“Yes,” she said. “JoAnn has a Keppinger detector with her and—”

“What’s a Keppinger detector?”

“It reacts to conditions in the warp. It gives her the information she needs to make the adjustments to the drive unit.”

“Couldn’t they just install the thing and let the AI take care of it?”

“There’s more to it than that, Chase. JoAnn needs to make judgments about the readings.”

“Great.”

*   *   *

JoAnn and Shara were talking quantum theory or something when the conversation suddenly went quiet.

“What’s wrong?” Shara asked.

“It’s starting. Gotta go.”

The
Grainger
floated serenely among the stars. Nothing seemed to have changed. I could hear Shara breathing beside me, staring out through the wraparound. “Even if it works,” she said, speaking neither to me nor the microphone, “I’m not sure I’d trust it.”

“I can understand why,” I said.

“We’ll need more than a single trial to convince anyone. To convince
me
, for that matter. But let’s get past this first and see what we have.”

A faint glow appeared along the
Grainger
hull. And brightened. We could see what appeared to be stars
inside
the ship. It was becoming transparent. Then the light faded. And, finally, there was only the field of stars.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell

When I embark.

—Alfred Lord Tennyson, “Crossing the Bar,” 1889

Theory indicated that if everything went as expected, they would return within minutes. Or maybe seconds. We held our breath.

Richard started another countdown on the auxiliary screen. “Shut it off,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Chase. I was only trying to help.”

“Just leave it alone.”

Shara was holding tight on to the arms of her chair. I sat there looking out at the night, watching for the silhouette of the giant ship to reappear. Please, God. “We should do this more often,” said Shara.

“You want some coffee?”

“No. Not at the moment.”

We sat, listening to each other breathe. We didn’t really know if, when the ship reappeared, we’d be close enough to see it. The vehicles that got tangled in the warp tended to maintain a direct course, so we could assume it would come back along that same vector. But it was possible that it would be several million kilometers away. Which meant that the news might come by radio.

“Chase.”
Richard’s voice.
“I am scanning for it. Nothing so far.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Do you wish to receive periodic reports, Chase?”

“No,” I said. “Just let me know if you see something.”

I moved farther to port as a safety precaution, but otherwise maintained the same course and speed. I know this makes no sense, but my natural tendency was to assume the
Grainger
would show up in the same position relative to us that it had held when it went under. But the minutes dragged on, and no lights appeared.

I began to notice that the sounds in the
Casavant
were a bit different from what they were in the
Belle-Marie
. The engines had a different tone, somehow more masculine, more inclined to growl. I heard more beeps and boops from the electronics than I was accustomed to. And the ventilators put out a louder hum.

“Come
on
,” whispered Shara.

The chairs squeaked.

“I have it,”
said Richard.
“It’s on course, range approximately six thousand kilometers.”

“Beautiful,” I said. “Open a channel to them.”

“Done, Chase.”

“Nick, we see you. Welcome back.”

We got nothing but static.

“Nick, answer up, please.”

Shara was frowning.

Still nothing.

“Nick,” said Shara. “Say something!”

“It must be at a considerable distance,”
said Richard.
“I can’t see any lights.”

“Nick!” Shara again. Her voice tight with mounting desperation. “Are you there? Come on. Say something.”

“Belt down, Shara,” I said. “Their power may have gone down. Let’s go find them. It shouldn’t be a problem.” I switched over to Richard. “Are we getting any kind of radio activity at all from them?”

“Negative, Chase. I will let you know if I detect anything.”

“Try the AI.”

“I already have. That’s also negative.”

“Not good,” said Shara. “We’ve got to get them off before it goes under again.”

We sent a message to the SRF, informing them of the situation.

*   *   *

We had a reply within the hour. From Lynn Bonner, chief of the SRF presence on Skydeck.
“Chase, do not take any unnecessary risks. Determine as best you can what has happened and report to us before taking any action.”

The
Grainger
was still showing no lights when we pulled alongside. I moved in closer than was comfortable. But I wanted to be within a couple of minutes of the
Grainger
. Just in case. Shara was getting out of her seat to head for the lander when a second message arrived. It was from John Kraus:
“Exercise extreme caution. What is the current situation?”

I sent a picture of the dark ship. “No response yet. We are going over now.”

“No,” said Shara. She got up and shook her head. “You stay here. I’ll let you know what’s going on.”

“Forget it.”

She paused in the hatch, turned, pointed an index finger at me.
“Stay here,”
she said.

I had no wish to go with her and get into a vehicle that had become so unpredictable. “You can’t go over there alone.”

“Chase, we need somebody here on the radio. To keep in touch with John.”

“Richard can relay anything we need to send. We don’t know what’s happening, and you may need help. Anyway, I suspect I have a little more experience with starships and pressure suits than you do.”

*   *   *

We climbed into the suits and added wrist lamps and jet packs. We were so close there was no point taking the lander. I picked up a cutter to ensure we didn’t get stuck somewhere.

We left the
Casavant
and floated across to the
Grainger
airlock. Usually, when you touch the hull of a ship, especially a big one, you can
feel
the power. There are engines and compressors and monitors and a thousand other devices that support life. This one felt dead. Shara looked at me with her eyes wide as I pressed the pushpad beside the outer hatch. The pushpad is supposed to work even in the case of a power failure. And it did. The hatch clicked, and I pulled it open and stepped inside. It was dark, and there was no artificial gravity. “Careful,” I said. Shara joined me, we closed up, floated off the deck, and switched on our lamps.

The airlock began to pressurize.

“That’s good,”
said Shara.
“At least they’ve got
some
power.”

“It’s the backup system,” I said. “Not sure there’ll be much else.”

The inner hatch opened into a passageway. Into
three
passageways, actually. One ran directly ahead across the ship; the others went fore and aft parallel to the hull. No interior lights came on.

I didn’t trust what I was seeing, so I motioned Shara to leave her helmet in place while I removed mine. But the air was okay. I called out both names. “JoAnn.

“Nick.”

Shara, her helmet now off, joined in: “Anybody there? Hello—Where are you guys?”

A dead silence rolled back at us.

We took the passageway that led forward. It was lined with doors. We tried one. It opened, and we looked in at a small compartment. Couple of chairs. A display screen. A fold-up bed.

I pulled the door shut. Shara looked frightened. God knows what I looked like. “Where the hell are they?” she said.

The ship was cold. Seriously cold. How could that have happened? We put our helmets back on and adjusted the heat in our suits.

The bridge figured to be up two or three decks. We kept going toward the front, passed one elevator, and stopped at the second. It wasn’t working, which didn’t matter because I wouldn’t have wanted to take a chance on getting caught in it. I called Richard. “Hypercomm for John Kraus.”

“Okay,”
he said.
“Whenever you’re ready.”

“‘John, we are on board the
Grainger
. They have a power outage. Haven’t located JoAnn and Nick yet. Will let you know as soon as we have something.’” I looked at Shara. “Anything else?”

“Yes. Richard, tell John that it’s seriously cold over here. Hard to believe this thing was under power just a few minutes ago.”

“I have it,”
Richard said.
“Will transmit immediately.”

Eventually, we came across a ramp connected to decks above and below. It was steep, designed for low gravity. In zero gee, we could float up the thing. And we did.

There was a theater on the next deck. We entered in the rear and looked past the seats up at a stage. There would have been a screen there somewhere as well, but it wasn’t visible. We played our lights across the chairs, hoping to see some movement.

We had to take off our helmets to call their names. Which we did. There was no response.

We went back out into the corridor and continued the process. We were reaching a point at which I think if someone had answered, I’d have been seriously spooked.

“I can’t believe,” Shara said, “that they didn’t mention the cold.”

We went up another ramp into an area that included a large dining room. It had long portals, so occupants could have looked out and seen the stars. And one more deck took us, finally, within range of the bridge.

It was dark, and empty, and didn’t look as if anyone had been there
ever
. I sat down in the captain’s chair, leaned over the controls, and tried to turn the power on. Nothing happened.

“Look at this,” I said, pointing to the comm system.

Shara’s brow creased. “What am I looking at?”

“It’s an allcomm. The captain uses it to speak to the entire ship. Provided he has power.” I looked for an activator switch, found one, and used it. The panel lit up. Bingo.

“JoAnn,” I said, “Nick. We’re on the bridge. Where are you guys?”

*   *   *

Our voices echoed through the ship. After a while, we shut the lights down again. Don’t ask me why. It seemed like the cautious thing to do, and that’s my middle name. We walked around some more, or floated around, really, and opened more doors. We came across a couple of storage rooms, places where they had blankets and pillows and dishware. A few cabinets were open, and some of the materials had been removed.

We were sitting in a lounge area when Richard informed us we had another transmission from John:
“Get off the
Grainger
immediately. If it goes under again, I don’t want you guys going with it. We have a team on the way. They’ll take it from here.”

*   *   *

The SRF vehicle arrived within hours. They told us they’d been instructed to give it another day. Then, if the
Grainger
still seemed stable, they would board and begin a shipwide search. We were to go home.

So we started back. “I’m not sure how I let this happen,” Shara said, as we left the
Grainger
behind.

“You’re not responsible.”

“Chase, I knew the risk was greater than JoAnn was letting on.”

“So did she, probably.”

“She did. She hated taking Nick over there, but she had no choice. But I doubt she thought anything like
this
could happen.” She stopped and heaved a desperate sigh. “Damn it. There had to be a better way to do this. Or not do it.”

*   *   *

John and several of his colleagues were waiting when we arrived at Skydeck. They crowded around us, asking if we were okay, telling us how sorry they were. We retreated into a conference room, and they began looking for details. Had JoAnn changed any of the protocols? I had no idea. We had a record of everything she’d done until the moment when the
Grainger
went under and communication was lost. Shara insisted JoAnn would not have changed anything without letting her know.

So the experts took over the
Casavant
to begin analyzing the data while we retired to a conference room and described the experience in painful detail to a group of about fifteen people. They asked a few questions and told us not to talk about it. And they ultimately fell into absolute silence, save for a couple of coughs.

At the end, John sat with his head propped on folded hands.