Coming Home

Twelve

Shara called to explain why I hadn’t been informed. “There’s so much political pressure right now,” she said. “They didn’t want to take a chance on the word getting out before they had a chance to run the test. But it was beautiful. Everything went exactly according to schedule. But there’s still a problem.”

“It was another yacht,” I said.

The news was all over the talk shows by noon. The reactions of the pundits ran the gamut from being horrified to observations that at last someone was showing some sense. Jerry Dumas, on The Dumas Report, called it, “finally, the breakthrough we’ve been waiting for.” Lucia Brent thought it was “a disaster waiting to happen.” Hosts and guests on The Daytime Show and Jennifer in the Morning were appalled and grateful, sometimes simultaneously.

Several days after it started, Jacob informed us we had a call from a Mr. Culbertson. “He’d like an appointment to talk with you, Alex. He’s a lawyer. Represents the Capella Families.”

“I know who they are, Jacob,” said Alex. “Tell him I’m busy.” Alex shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell these people.” We were in the conference room, where he was looking through an inventory of eleventh-century Jamalian antiques that had just become available.

He marked off a couple that we would pursue. Then Jacob was back. “Sir, he says it’s very important.”

Alex sighed. “Okay. Put him through.” He sat back and looked out the window at the old cemetery stones on the perimeter of the property. I got up to leave, but he waved me back into my seat.

Leonard Culbertson seemed like a decent guy. I guess I expected one of those smarmy lawyers who always show up in the police procedurals and the law-firm commercials. But he was quiet and unassuming, both qualities I didn’t associate with his profession. He had thick silver hair that he had to keep brushing back. And blue eyes that had all the appeal of youth. After he’d been introduced to Alex, he asked who I was.

“Chase Kolpath,” he said. “She’s my associate.”

He studied me for a moment. “Ms. Kolpath, do you have a connection with Gabriel Benedict?”

That surprised me. “He was my former employer,” I said. “And a friend.” I was still talking about him in the past tense.

“All right. I assume you both know what our concerns are. And Ms. Kolpath, you’re welcome to participate in the discussion, if you like. Assuming Mr. Benedict has no objection.”

“I don’t have time for a discussion,” said Alex. “Please keep it short, Mr. Culbertson.” He looked my way. Did I want to get clear?

I hesitated because I didn’t know what was coming. But there was no way I could walk away from it.

“You’ve had an extraordinary career, Mr. Benedict,” said Culbertson.

Alex turned his let’s-move-it-along gaze on the lawyer. “It’s been a good run. The downside was losing my uncle.”

“I’m sure. You must have been very happy when you learned he was still alive. That it might be possible to bring him back.”

“Of course. May I ask you to get to the point?”

“Since you’ve been connected with this from the beginning, you understand more than most what’s involved. The scientists want to experiment with the star-drive unit. They think that they can fine-tune it, and the ship will no longer be dragged into that odd area they call transcendental space.”

“Transdimensional space, you mean. But actually, we’re talking about a warp.”

Culbertson laughed it away. “I’m sorry. My physics has always been a bit on the weak side. The point is they’re not sure. There’s a possibility we could lose the ship permanently. Along with its passengers.”

“I don’t know whether they’re certain or not, Mr. Culbertson. You’d have to ask them.”

The lawyer was leaning out of a large, cushy armchair. “I don’t have to ask them. They are telling us that there’s no guarantee. They like the odds. That’s what they’re saying. Mr. Benedict, I represent the families of more than four hundred passengers. The families do not want anybody screwing around with the drive unit. They don’t want anyone taking any chance on stranding their loved ones permanently on that ship.” He looked across at Alex, then at me. “I’d be surprised if you don’t feel the same way.”

“Mr. Culbertson, I don’t believe they are going to take any chances with the lives of the passengers.”

“I hope you’re right. We would all like to get these people back to their families as quickly as possible. But I’m sure you’d agree that risking all those lives to hurry the process along when otherwise they seem to be in no danger is at the very least reckless?”

“Possibly. The problem is that, as things are now, a lot of families are broken apart. Some kids face the prospect of not seeing their parents for twenty-five years. Or more. I know you represent families who want to exercise caution on this. But there are several hundred other families who are saying that their family members have already been gone eleven years. That they want them back. In some cases, husbands are separated from wives. There are teenagers on board, without their parents.” Alex’s eyes were locked on the lawyer. “For that matter, there’s no guarantee that the cycle will hold indefinitely. It’s possible that no matter what we do, the ship could go down and not come back. They just don’t know, Mr. Culbertson.”

“What about you, Ms. Kolpath?” he asked. “Where do you stand on this?”

“I hate it,” I said. “I’m grateful they don’t need me to make the decision because I don’t know what the right call would be.”

“I understand,” he said. “But somebody’s going to have to decide. Now either we—the concerned families—can make it, or we can leave it to the physicists. If they get their way, and we lose all those people, they’ll simply comment that these things are not definitive, and they took the most appropriate action. They don’t have a serious stake in the game.”

I kept going: “Do you really believe that, Mr. Culbertson? Nobody has a higher stake than they do. JoAnn Suttner is putting everything on the line. She feels personally responsible for the lives of those people. If she can’t make the right thing happen, it will follow her through the rest of her life.”

Culbertson was looking into a corner of the room. At a photo of Gabe. “Is that your uncle?”

“Yes,” said Alex.

“You look alike.” He rearranged himself in the chair, trying to get comfortable. “Mr. Benedict, if they asked your advice, what would it be?”

Alex sat, unmoving. I looked out at the tree branches swinging gently in the wind. “I honestly don’t know,” he said finally. “I’ve asked myself what I’d want if I were on the ship. In that case, I think I’d just as soon wait. Play it safe. I mean, it’s not as if I’d actually have to wait. It would be just a case of sitting it out for another couple of hours. But I don’t have a family that needs me back now. In fact, if I had to stay out there for a quarter century, the only person who’d notice I was gone is sitting right here.” He glanced over at me and smiled.

“That’s certainly a rational response. You’ve become a public personality, Mr. Benedict. People trust you. Moreover, you’re a big part of the reason we learned about the lost ships. The reality is that, to a substantial degree, this is going to become your decision. You’re going to be pressed on both sides. Which I guess is what I’m doing now. And I apologize if I’m making you uncomfortable. But a lot of people will go along with what you have to say in this matter. I hope you’ll make your views public. We need you. We need you to take a stand, to ensure that we don’t, through impatience, kill all those people.”

“I think you’re overestimating my influence.”

“I don’t believe that’s the case, sir. This thing may even go to court. But, whether it does or not, in the end it will be a political issue. There’s no applicable law here. In any case, Mr. Benedict, Alex, I want you to know we will appreciate any support you can give us.”