Ghosts Come Home

by Justin Stanchfield

The station seemed to rotate on the screen as Dev Verlain brought the shuttle in, the waiting docks a spiny forest of grappling arms and gantries. He played the throttles as he guided the battered cargo container in front of him. It was his third grab of the day, and he briefly considered making a fourth trip, but in the end the lure of going home to his tiny apartment and Letha won out. He brought the boom mic closer to his lips.

“Approach, 7748 Uniform, inbound with cargo. Request vectors.”

“Roger, Four-Eight Uniform,” a woman’s voice answered. “Computer guidance to commence in thirty seconds.”

“That’s affirm.” Reluctantly, Dev turned control over to the tower. He had been genetically tailored to fly starships, and despite nearly two decades here he still rankled each time the computers took control. He placed his hands in his lap and waited, splitting his gaze between the flight-board and the vista of steel and carbon that made up Oasis. The station was one of the oldest in service, ugly as child’s crude drawing, a thousand sharp facets and angles slipping in and out of the light as the station turned on its axis, forever locked in orbit around its red dwarf primary. It was a nexus for transport to the real colonies light-years away, a refuel point along the way to worlds with names like Seraphim, Allegro, and Novus, worlds with open skies and air scrubbed clean by rain. Worlds Dev Verlain would never see. After so many years fighting the idea, he had at last reconciled himself that the station was, for better or worse, home.

The shuttle surrendered speed and altitude, sinking toward the waiting berth. Other ships came and went, the darkness twinkling with running lights. Occasional bursts of noise crackled in his headset, pilots and computers talking back and forth, the normal flow of traffic a discordant symphony across the flight bands. Dev listened without really hearing, his attention suddenly drawn back to the screen. Ahead, hanging above the station’s jagged outward rim, rode the largest starship he had ever seen. He whistled in admiration.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” the controller answered, no doubt watching the video feed from his navigation console. “Just broke out of N-space in a couple hours ago.”

“Where’s she out of?” Dev asked.

“Portius. She’s hauling refugees.”

“Yeah?” Dev’s voice trailed off. Something about the massive vessel called to him, reached deep into his soul and woke things he had fought diligently to keep asleep. The starship grew on screen, her sleek white hull making her seem more like a creature from some mythical sea than a mere construct of carbon fiber and titanium. As his shuttle passed abeam, he fought the urge to switch his view to the rear, an almost magnetic pull centered deep in his chest as if he was being drawn backward toward the enormous ship.

Annoyed with himself, Dev fished his phone out of his breast pocket and flipped it open. The screen flashed a cheerful blue while he waited for Letha to answer. A few seconds later he was rewarded with a blurred shot of his tiny apartment before she moved into view and sat down in front of their console. She leaned closer to the camera.

“Hello, flyboy.” Even on the tiny screen her eyes, brown as melted chocolate, seemed to shine. Her smile turned down into a mock pout, raising dimples on her plump face, her dark hair drawn back into a short ponytail. “Ever coming home tonight?”

“I’m about five minutes from docking. Give me an hour to lock down and grab a shower and I’ll be on my way.”

“Cool true.” Her voice had the typical drawl of an Oasis native, the local slang as polyglot as the population. Her smile returned, then vanished as she panned the camera down past her breasts and settled on her stomach. She patted the obvious bulge with her free hand. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

The phone went blank and Dev flipped it closed. He sighed as he slipped it back into his pocket, the sight of his pretty and extremely pregnant wife almost enough to keep his mind off the gleaming white transport riding somewhere behind him.

Hair still damp, Dev made his way down from the hangar where he berthed his shuttle to the trans-rail, leaning spinward against the rotation. Deeper inside the huge complex where he and Letha rented their cramped quarters, Oasis’s spin wasn’t as noticeable, the centripetal forces generating less than Earth-standard gravity, but out here, close to the skin, any quick turn of the head could send a wave of vertigo crashing against even the most experienced station rat. He found a waiting car and shoved his way aboard, clinging to the handrail as the platform surged forward.

A thousand sounds and aromas brushed past him as they descended level by level, hot peppery oil from sidewalk cafes, ozone from overheated electronics, and the inevitable cloud of too many bodies pressed too closely together. Here and there a bit of greenery flashed by, potted citrus trees or wall gardens, but most of the station felt artificial, gunmetal walls and garish storefronts, a maze of corridors and passages constantly under construction. Dev scarcely noticed. Compared to the ship he had spent the first twelve standards aboard, Oasis was a virtual paradise.

The car entered a wide, sweeping curve, everyone leaning against the new tangent. Dev bumped the man behind him and apologized, oddly self-conscious. Normally, he would have paid little attention to his fellow riders, but today he couldn’t shake the sensation that he was being watched. He felt ill at ease, but put it off as simple exhaustion, the result of too many shifts without respite. It would be good, he decided, when the baby did come and he could spend a few weeks at home tending his family before boredom or a lack of funds sent him once more into the cargo lanes.

The trans-car slowed and Dev gripped the rail as the car lurched into the hub. He shuffled off the platform, a cold breeze washing downward from the recirc fans high overhead. Unexpectedly, a sharp pain slid through his stomach, strong enough that he drew a breath between his clenched teeth. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, letting the flow of bodies spread around him until the pain subsided. Despite the cool air, sweat beaded on his forehead.

“What the hell?” he muttered under his breath. Normally, he was a healthy as a horse, his gene-mods keeping him safe from all but the most exotic ailments. Frowning, he turned around and gasped in surprise. Across the hub, one level up, a slender woman with short blond hair stood beside the rail, staring down at him. From the stunned expression on her face she seemed as shocked to see him as he was to see her. Suddenly he felt hollow, emptied, no more substantial than a shell filled with dust. Dev took a step toward the woman and would have walked off the platform had he not ran into the waist-high rail. He shut his eyes and counted to ten, then looked back up at the platform.

The woman, if she had ever really been there, was gone.

The door sniffed his palm and slid aside. Blue light bathed him as he stepped inside the apartment, a cool cerulean glaze cast by the wall murals, a tangle of thick branches swaying somewhere in the jungles of Seraphim. It was one of Letha’s favorite backgrounds, a scene more inspired by the adventure programs she played in her off time than by any real interest in alien biota. She looked up at him from the kitchen counter and smiled.

“Hello, Luv-B.” She came around the counter, her movements exaggerated by her pregnancy, and stood up on tiptoe to kiss him. His arms slid around her, the hard bump of her belly pressing against him. Dev held the kiss longer than usual, needing the reassurance of her body against his. Finally, he relaxed and let her settle back to the soft-tiled floor.

“Wow.” Letha’s eyes went wide. “What was that about?”

“Me being enchanted by my beautiful wife.”

“Yes, I am, and don’t think for a second flattery will get you anything.” She slapped him playfully on his backside. “I’m too broke to slip you any credit and too pregnant for romping. Besides, supper’s here.”

She turned and walked back into the kitchen. Dev stood by the door, admiring the view. Letha stood a head shorter than himself, her body voluptuous, generous curves even more pronounced as she neared the beginning of her third trimester. He had been in love with her almost from their first date, but tonight couldn’t help comparing her with the willowy blond he had glimpsed in the trans-rail terminal. A wave of guilt swept through him, leaving him feeling dirty, and still he couldn’t get the image of the stranger standing at the rail out of his mind.

No, Dev thought to himself, stranger wasn’t the right word. He knew the woman as well as he knew himself. After all, they had been created for each other, born to mate, to create the next generation of pilots for a ship now long dead. Two decades of separation vanished as if they had parted only yesterday, a pair of crying twelve-year-olds torn apart, the memory driving a spike through his stomach.

“Luv, you okay?” Letha looked up from the pair of plastic cartons she had set on the counter. “You look like you just bit a turd.”

“Long day, that’s all.”

“Well, sit down and eat. You’ll feel better for it.” She gave him another swift kiss. “Besides, I might have been exaggerating that ‘too pregnant to romp’ bit.”

He forced a smile and scooped up a bite of the stir-fry in his carton, the tiny red peppers in it so strong his tongue felt ready to ignite. Letha took a bite, paused, and added a dash of hot sauce. Dev held back a chuckle. Like every other native Oasian he had met, his wife was utterly addicted to peppers and curry, the hotter the better. Feeling better despite his burning mouth, he ate, convinced once more that he was a very lucky man.

“By the way,” she said, mopping up the last of her stir-fry with a torn piece of flatbread, “you had a message from the Pilot’s Association. They’s called a general meeting for tomorrow at oh-nine-thirty.”

“Oh?” The imploding sensation he had felt earlier returned. “Did they say why?”

“Nah, it was just a bot call. I’m willing to bet it’s about that white ship that’s popped in today, though.”

“You saw it?” Dev tried to hide his growing unease.

“Saw the tower feed.” Letha worked out of the apartment as a spot trader, buying and selling the various cargo containers off the long-haul freighters that passed through Oasis. Despite having never once been outside of the enormous station, she probably knew more about the various ships docked here than most pilots. “According to her manifest, they’s got nearly eleven thousand refugees aboard, most of them kids. I can’t even imagine what it must be like down in her decks.”

“Yeah. They must be stacked in there like bees,” Dev agreed. Again, the image of the woman at the railing flitted through his mind and he fought down a premonition that she was somehow tied to the gleaming white behemoth tethered outside the station.

“So,” Letha said, waiting as he stood up from the counter. “You want to run a vid?”

“Not really,” Dev replied.

“Good. Then take me to bed.” She kissed him on the neck, her tongue exploring the little hollows under his jaw, then turned and led the way into the tiny bedroom. Rain fell on the wall murals, speckling a slow, sapphire-hued river while a tiny blue sun sank into the trees. They made love gently, careful of her pregnant belly, both of them gasping in spent pleasure as they finished. Letha collapsed against his shoulder and within minutes was snoring softly. Dev sighed and pulled her closer, furious with himself that it wasn’t his wife’s face he had seen when he closed his eyes.

A strange tension filled Oasis, the white ship, the Blanca Rosa, on everyone’s mind. Rumors choked every message box, the electronic overflow stating everything from the absurd, that Portius had sent the ship as a vanguard of an invasion, to the barely possible, that the government of the dying planet had secretly shipped their own families away from some ecological disaster that threatened the colony. As nine o’clock and the general meeting approached, Dev toyed with the idea of not attending, but in the end joined the crowd shuffling into the repair hangar the Pilot’s Association used for meetings. Cheap plastic chairs stood in rows, the aroma of coffee and spilled propellant thick in the cool air. A low stage had been erected at one end of the hangar, a wall screen glowing behind it. Dev found one of the chairs and sat down, the legs scraping against the bare floor.

When he glanced up at the stage his breath caught in his throat. Seated among several other people all wearing identical blue flightsuits and padded jackets was the woman he had seen at the trans-station. She glanced in his direction, and despite being seated five rows back, Dev was certain she saw him, the same electric tingle he had felt earlier stronger now. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and was about to leave when a pot-bellied man with sparse gray hair stepped to the podium.

“Thanks for coming,” the association president said, his voice booming via the sound system. He adjusted his microphone and continued. “I’m sure you’ve all been keeping up with the texting this morning. I think at last count I had thirteen hundred messages in my inbox.” A polite chuckle ran around the crowd. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed, this meeting is about the Blanca Rosa, and what’s happening out at Portius. They’s have a pretty significant request, so rather than me relaying it, I’ve asked the Rosa’s flight crew to explain it themselves. Captain Alvarez?” He nodded at someone standing just off the side of the low stage.

A tall, athletic-looking man with graying black hair stepped onto the podium with an easy, confident grace. He also wore a blue flightsuit and quilted jacket, a white rose holo’d above his name patch. Dev’s hands bunched into fists as Alvarez casually brushed the blond woman’s shoulder with his hand as he passed her chair.

“Good morning,” he said in a rich baritone. “I’m Fortino Alvarez, Captain of the Blanca Rosa. We are indeed carrying children and selected parents en route to Novus where we hope we can find refuge for them. My ship will be departing tomorrow, but part of my crew will be remaining here, and hopefully returning to Portius with some of you.”

Alvarez paused, letting the murmurs die down. “A hundred and fifty years ago when remote probes discovered a planet orbiting a yellow, Sol-like star that had both liquid water and a breathable atmosphere but only primitive terrestrial flora, it seemed too good to be true. We were quick to terraform the world. Unfortunately, some factions on Earth considered colonizing an already established world a sacrilege against that planet’s ecology, and in retaliation they released a fungal plague that destroys all Earth-native plant life. By the time the fungus was discovered, it had already spread to the point that widespread famine is a virtual certainty.” He paused. “There is no possibility of evacuating everyone before they starve.”

A collective gasp ran across the floor, and again Alvarez waited for the noise to subside. Dev leaned forward, more intent on the glance that passed between the captain and the blond woman than on the impending disaster.

“There is, however,” Alvarez said, “a possibility that we can stop the plague and reseed our world. We have developed an inoculant against the fungus, as well as resistant strains of plants, which can be dropped via canister from orbit.” Alvarez’s dark eyes swept the crowd. “But, for the plan to work, we need a large number of pilots and pusher-ships. Portius is an agricultural colony with only a limited space fleet. That is why we are here. Oasis is the only point both in range and with enough experienced pilots to help us. I’ll let my chief pilot Kammie Tule explain in more detail.”

Dev’s stomach lurched. If there had been any doubt remaining in his mind who the blond woman was, Alvarez had just removed it. He stared at the dais as Kammie Tule rose and walked to the podium, her hand briefly twining with the Captain’s as they passed each other. Few in the crowd noticed the gesture, but it made Dev so angry his teeth ground together.

“Hello.” Kammie smiled nervously as she took the podium. “I don’t have much to add, other than we need every pilot and shuttle we can enlist.” Whether she meant to or not, her gaze settled on Dev. Time seemed to freeze before she once again began speaking.

“I wish I could tell you that this mission will be perfectly safe, but I can’t. These are going to be low orbit drops which all involve aero-braking, and we can’t rule out the possibility of sabotage from the people who released the plague in the first place. That’s why we’re offering a ten-thousand credit to everyone who volunteers.” Her lips drew into a thin smile. “But I can at least promise you it will be over quickly, one way or another. Portius is only six transit days from Oasis. If things go as we hope, we can drop all of the canisters within a week. And, if they go wrong, well…” Kammie sighed. “If the mission fails, we will bring you back here before things get out of hand.”

She continued speaking a few minutes longer, but Dev heard none of it, his mind locked on her face, lost in the horrible, wonderful, dangerous realization that after two decades she was back. Sweat pooled between his shoulder blades, his breath coming in gasps as if a belt was wrapped around his chest and was being tightened by the second. As soon as the meeting concluded he rose and hurried toward the exit, but the flow of people slowed him, blocking his way. When he finally did make it past the double doors into the service corridor, he let his breath out in a loud sigh, glad to be free.

“Hello, Dev.”

He stiffened, then turned around. Kammie Tule stood next to the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, so close he could smell the faint, earthy musk of her skin.

“Hi, Kam.” A wave of dizziness crashed over him and he spread his legs wide to keep his balance. “It’s good to see you.”

“I didn’t know you were here when we docked. I promise.”

He shrugged. “Would it have mattered?”

“It might have.” A thin glaze of sweat covered her forehead, the pupils of her deep blue eyes so large they seemed to pulse. She reached toward him, but Dev flinched away. She dropped her arm to her side. “This isn’t easy for me, either.”

“I’m not blaming you, Kammie.” Before he could say more the tall man who had shared the podium stepped up behind her. Dev’s fingers closed into fists as Alvarez casually slipped his arm around her slender waist. He nodded at Dev, the smile on his face warm and genuine.

“I was wondering where you’d gone,” Alvarez said. His gaze moved to Dev. “Are you one of our volunteers? I certainly hope so. We can use every pilot we can get.”

“I…” Dev’s throat seemed to close, the scent of Kammie’s skin roaring in his senses. He forced himself to take a step back before he lashed out at the man. “I have to go.” He spun on his heel and vanished into the trickle of bodies still making their way out of the hangar, the veins in his temples pulsing as he struggled not to turn around, his heart breaking as if he was twelve years old again and watching while the only person he was allowed to love was led away.

The morning was a waste, his mind spinning in dark clouds that refused to part. Dev preflighted his shuttle and left the station, but only made one run, nearly sending the container he grabbed careening sunward because he forgot to secure the grapple forks around it. Feigning illness, he returned to berth and locked down his ship, then left without bothering to shower or change out of his flight clothes. Letha was waiting for him when he stepped inside the apartment. He started to say something inane but she cut him off with a kiss.

“I’ve been following the chatter all morning on the forums,” she said, her arms still around him. “I think you should go.”

“What?” Dev stared at his wife in obvious amazement. It was the last thing he expected her to say. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Look, lover…” An almost embarrassed smile creased her face. “I’ve already played this scene out in my head a few thousand times today, so just shut up and let me talk. You’re going to tell me that you can’t join your mates going off to save Portius because I’m preggers, then I’m going to tell you that I’m just starting my third trimester and you’ll be home long before my water breaks, and even if you’re not it’s the docs who’ll deliver the baby, not you. I’ll be fine.” Letha paused for breath. “What they’re trying to do out at Portius is a good thing. And god knows we could use the bonus they’re offering.”

“This isn’t about the money,” Dev said.

“No, it isn’t.” She laid her head against his chest and let him draw her closer. He drank in the clean scent of her hair, her breath warm against his shoulder. Though he couldn’t see her face, he was sure she was crying.

“Let’s sit down.” He guided her to the little couch in the corner of the room. They dropped into the worn-out cushions, her head still resting against him. He stroked her upper arm, reveling in the softness, refusing to compare her with Kammie Tule. “How much do you know about my past?”

“I know you’re wasting yourself here,” she said, her voice falling. “You should be flying starships, not shuffling containers.”

“Letha…”

“Damn it, love, I’m trying to be noble here.” She pulled back and looked up at him. “This might be your one chance to do something that matters, something that people are going to talk about for generations, and I won’t have you blaming me for missing it.”

“I could never blame you.”

“You say that now. But when the rest of the pilots around here board that freighter you’re going to hate yourself for not being with them. I don’t much like the thought of being alone, but I likes the thought of you hating yourself even less. Go, would you?”

The computer chimed, an incoming message, but neither bothered to glance toward the screen. Around them, as if the mural was reading their dark moods, a thunderstorm built on the horizon, casting a purple glow across the tiled floor. Dev chewed on his lower lip before launching into the things he had never told a single person. “I’m not saying you aren’t right,” he began. “But I have to tell you some things about me that I don’t think you’re going to like. You know my family belonged to a gypsy-freighter, right?”

“You make it sound like you were slaves.” She smiled weakly.

“Not much difference.” He shrugged. “Out in the reaches where we traveled, there aren’t any restrictions on what geneticists can do. When people say I’m a born pilot, they’re right. I was gene-tailored, just like my parents and their parents before them. I come from a long line of star-pilots, so it was just assumed I’d stay with our ship, or be contracted out to fly somebody else’s. But that’s not the worst of it. We weren’t just gene-tailored, we were line-bred like race horses.”

“All right.” Some of her usual cockiness returned. “So far you’re proving my point.”

“There’s more.” Dev swallowed, his mouth dry. “The captain and the owners made sure before I was ever born that I would pass my genes on with another pilot. Part of the tweaking that was done to me was to make sure I would fall in love with the person they wanted. I was born with a physical addiction to a girl named Kammie Tule whose mother was the pilot off another freighter. We were raised together like brother and sister, except it just assumed that when the time came, we would marry and keep the line going.”

He paused, letting the words sink in. Letha stared at him, her wide brown eyes full of hurt and fear as if she had already guessed much of what he was telling her. In some way, he realized, she probably had. Dev drew a long breath and continued.

“When we were twelve, the owners made a string of bad buys and the ship went bust. To settle debts, the freighter was sold and the crew left stranded. My parents hitched a ride to Oasis. Kammie and her mother went back to her family’s ship. When we saw each other for the last time, my heart broke. I didn’t speak to anyone, not even my mother, for nearly six months. I almost starved to death, and for a while I was put into a hospital. I never thought I could care about anything again. Even after I got my license and started flying, it didn’t matter to me. I was just going through the motions. Then, I met you.”

He kissed her, but knew the gesture seemed false. Letha pulled back, her eyes bright with tears. “She’s here, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s why you don’t want to join the mission?”

Dev nodded slowly. Letha looked away, reached up with her free hand and brushed her fingers through her thick, dark hair. “I love you.” She lifted her mouth to his and kissed him hard, then pulled back, her lips quivering as she smiled. “I trust you.”

Dev held her, soaking up her warmth and wishing to whatever nameless gods might exist that he could trust himself.

The Blanca Rosa departed the next morning, bearing her load of refugees for Novus. Despite everything, Dev found himself standing among the onlookers watching the little bit of history play out. He watched as the crew made their way to the airlock, Alvarez the last to step inside. The captain turned and kissed Kammie Tule so passionately they seemed to be part of some old romantic vid, lovers torn apart by the onrushing war, star-crossed but defiant. The crowd cheered as Alvarez broke the kiss, waved to the onlookers, then strode up the sloping ramp while the heavy doors slid shut behind him.

Dev watched from the railing one level above the floor, secretly thrilled to see Alvarez gone while Kammie remained behind to take the volunteers back to Portius. She turned and found him staring down at her. This time, neither bothered to look away from the other.

A bulk container was leased to carry the pusher-ships back to Portius, along with one of the largest star-drive equipped tugs, the Elizabeth Toland, to tow it and house the volunteers. Dev kept busy over the next three days, helping load the bulky ships and provisions into the canister, the normal flow of goods through Oasis on hold until the rescue ship was away. By the time the final pusher was stowed and the container secured for flight, he felt as if he hadn’t slept in a week, his body on the verge of exhaustion.

And still he couldn’t keep Kammie Tule from his thoughts.

A farewell party had been organized, the Pilot’s Association hangar now fitted with wall screens blazing light shows and raucous music. Dev could actually feel the bass notes through the soles of his boots as he walked toward the trans-rail. The station seemed deserted, everyone who was anyone at the party. Dev’s mouth twisted in an ironic smile as he wandered toward the waiting cars, the hypnotic call of the music reinforcing his decision to stay behind at Oasis. Weary to the core, he swiped his card through the pay-slot and the gate clicked open. The steel rail felt cold in his hand as he pushed it open. Behind him, he heard a soft, hesitant footstep.

“Dev?”

For one moment he considered not turning around. “Hello, Kammie. I thought you’d be at the party.”

“I was.” She wore her flightsuit again, the blue padded jacket emphasizing her slender hips and long legs. Her blond hair looked tousled and yet perfectly in place, gold highlights cast by the overhead lamps. “Guess I wasn’t in the mood for crowds.”

“Yeah, me either.” Somehow his legs seemed to have taken on a mind of their own, carrying him within arms reach of her. “I hope things go all right on the mission.”

“Thanks.” She sighed. “Wish you were coming with us. We could use you.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Dev pushed his hands into his jacket pockets, feeling like a nervous teenager. “I’m glad things have worked out for you. Piloting the Rosa, I mean. And, you know, you and Alvarez.” He could barely say the name.

“Thanks. Good luck with the baby.” Her smile trembled slightly at the corners of her mouth. “Must be wonderful having a family. I even think about it now and then.” She edged closer, but stopped short of touching him. “I wish I could kiss you goodbye, but…”

“Yeah, but…” Dev tipped his head back and stared up at the high ceiling, the open girders casting shadows across the gray surface. Sweat broke out on his back despite the cool air blowing through the chamber, every instinct screaming to take her in his arms. Instead, he forced a grim smile. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

Turning around was the hardest thing he had ever done. Not until he was seated and the car moving did he allow himself a final look back, his heart breaking all over again as he watched Kammie waving one last goodbye.

The day passed in a blur, normalcy slowly returning once the transport departed, carrying away most of Oasis’s pusher pilots with it. Dev tried to keep busy, but in the end he wound up simply wandering the labyrinth of corridors until he was certain the transport had broken dock. Even then he couldn’t face going home to Letha, his anger and resentment too near the surface. He needed time to bring himself under control, time to start forgetting about Kammie Tule all over again.

When at last, nearly six hours later, he did return to the apartment, he found Letha sitting at the computer. She turned and looked at him, her dark eyes wide with fear.

“What’s wrong?” he said, rushing across the tiny room. “The baby?”

“No.” Letha shook her head. “We’re fine. It’s…” Her voice broke. “Word just came in from Departure Control. The transport canister exploded thirty seconds before engaging their star-drive. They don’t know if anyone on the tug survived.”

The room, so solid only a heartbeat before, began to dissolve, the floor no longer able to support him. Dev felt his knees buckle and kept from falling only by clutching a nearby counter. Letha hurried to him. A dull roar howled in the background, his own pulse thundering as the room continued to lose substance.

“How?” It was the only word he seemed able to force out his lips.

“Nobody knows.” Letha steered them both to the small couch. “Everything was green on their board. Then, just as they began the jump, their telemetry went dead. Departure picked up a debris field on radar a few seconds later.” She paused, her own voice far from steady. “No one official is saying it yet, but everyone suspects a bomb.”

Cold rage flooded through Dev, the shock giving way to the mounting fury. He had friends aboard that ship. They both did. People they had known and worked with for years, nearly half of the active shuttle pilots on station lost because of some fanatic’s need to make a political statement. His fists bunched together, the muscles on his arms tensing as he fought to hold in the anger and despair, one overriding thought burning in his mind. Kammie Tule was dead.

He was on his feet and halfway to the door before he realized he had stood up. Still on the couch, Letha called after him. “Where are you going?”

“Out there.” He didn’t need to explain where there was. “My ship is fueled and ready. If the tug didn’t explode there could be survivors. I’m going to bring them back.”

“Dev…” She struggled to her feet. “Let the authorities handle this.”

“Piss on the authorities.” He pulled the door open, the faintly stale air outside the apartment spilling in. Dev took his wife in his arms, her pregnant belly hard against his own. He held her, not quite sure which of them was shaking the most. “By the time the emergency teams are dispatched, this will be a retrieval mission, not a rescue. I can be there before they even have their ship fueled.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“This is about her, isn’t it.” Letha said it as a statement, not a question. Dev flinched, the words sharp as a slap to the face.

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” She glared at him. “At least be honest with me if you can’t be honest with yourself. If that was me out there instead of her, would you be so quick to throw your life away trying to bring me back?”

He bit down on his lip, holding in an angry, senseless reply. “I love you,” he finally said. “I don’t care what you might think, I love you.” Dev slid the door open and stepped out of the apartment. By the time he reached the trans-rail he was running, his back soaked with sweat, thoughts of Letha and his unborn child all but forgotten in his need to reach Kammie Tule before what hope remained faded to zero.

He swam in a sea of numbers, his enhanced nervous system calculating the outbound vectors nearly as fast as his shuttle’s computers. He had gambled, taking an extra fuel tank rather than a survival pod, instinctively suspecting that reaching the damaged starship and bringing it back would give any potential survivors a better chance. Besides, Dev reasoned, hating to admit it, a pod couldn’t accommodate all of the volunteers and crew, forcing him to damn at least half of them to almost certain death.

“Four-Eight Uniform?” Departure Control tried for the third time in less than two minutes to contact him. He continued to ignore them. “Four-Eight Uniform, do you read?”

He bit down on his lip, knowing full well how much trouble he was facing when he returned. Dev seriously considered turning his telemetry off but decided against it. If nothing else, the official emergency teams could follow his signal. Again, the speakers in his headset crackled, the words echoed on his text-screen.

“Four-Eight Uniform? Mr. Verlain?” A brief pause. “Dev, if you can hear me, be advised that we strongly advise you not to attempt a rescue on your own. However, in case you are hearing this, the most recent scans of the debris cloud indicate a region of density 11 degrees south by 14 degrees west of the solar axis, receding at 38 KPS from Oasis. We can’t be certain this is the tug, but we are dispatching our own teams to that region.”

Dev nodded to himself, silently thanking the nameless voice for the tip. He made a slight course correction, aiming toward what he could only hope was the tug, the flight computer confirming what he had already calculated. If the tug had been at jump velocity he would use nearly his entire fuel reserve just to reach them. He stared out the tiny forward window at the bulk container grappled in front of him, wondering if the extra fuel it held would be enough. No matter how he played the numbers it would be close.

Too close.

For a moment he considered sending a private message back to Letha, but decided against it, the commo gear aboard his shuttle far too primitive to keep the news-hounds from intercepting his words. Things were going to be bad enough between them without his broadcasting their private turmoil across the nets.

Ahead, most of his view blocked by the fuel tank, he saw a diffuse glow, spilled fuel, and water from the exploded canister illuminated by sunlight. Dev’s fingers tightened around the armrests, the foolishness of what he was doing only now sinking in. Any debris he encountered, no matter how small, would be as lethal as a missile at the velocities they were moving. His mouth tightened into a grim line as he began transferring the fuel from the external tank into his ship. Although the combustible mixture wouldn’t ignite in vacuum should the tank rupture, it was under pressure and the resulting burst would be enough to send him out of control.

Time hung, the simple concept of minutes no longer bearing any real meaning as he rushed outward. The cloud in front of him continued to grow, becoming less defined the closer he approached. Dev checked his own speed and saw he was moving at nearly 60 KPS, fast enough to overtake the wreckage. Reluctantly, he shut down his engines to conserve fuel for the return flight.

To his left, just at the lower edge of the fuel tank, he saw a twinkle. Dev leaned forward against his restraints, holding his breath, not sure he had actually seen anything. Just as he began to pass it off as wishful thinking, he caught the reflection again. Something large enough to be seen by the naked eye was out there, tumbling and occasionally reflecting back at him. He focused his radar on the region, pushing the sensors to their maximum. A small dot flickered into existence on the screen, bright red against the cooler yellows and blues in the simulated view.

“That’s got to be it,” Dev whispered, trying to convince himself. If he changed course now and the object wasn’t the tug, he wouldn’t get a second chance. He felt cold inside despite the sweat pooling between his shoulders as he made the minute course adjustments, the change in vector so slight he barely felt it in the seat of his pants. Now, all he could do was wait.

His gaze traveled outward, not to the debris cloud, but beyond it to the unblinking stars. For the first time in years he began to daydream about being out there, traveling between worlds instead of pushing freight containers. Suddenly, he craved the rush, the danger as enticing as the need for sex or food. Something within him had awakened, but whether it was the accident and his insane rescue attempt, or simply having Kammie flung unexpectedly back into his life, he couldn’t say. No, he corrected himself. He didn’t want to say, the possibility that every emotion he felt right now, from guilt to longing to abject fear was inspired by the same genetic twists that left him addicted to a woman he could never have.

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered under his breath.

Dev shut his eyes and tried to think of Letha, but it was Kammie Tule he saw, her blue eyes wide with terror, imploring him to hurry. He sighed and gave in, letting his mind sweep outward, searching. Something pulled at him, as if an invisible hand had just reached into his chest and closed around his windpipe, dragging him forward. She was alive. She had to be.

He let his eyes open again. The twinkle was back, brighter now and more regular. He checked the radar and was surprised to see he was within 400 kilometers of the object and closing fast. He fired the maneuvering jets and turned his shuttle around, the tail now pointing forward. Dev watched the timer, tensing as the counter fell to zero and the main engines roared back to life.

Vibration pounded against him, g-forces shoving him from behind as the restraints cut into his shoulders, his breath coming in ragged gulps. Dev tried to watch the burn timer, but the panel was only a blur. Just as he feared he was going to lose consciousness, the engine cut out, the sudden stillness unnerving. Dev shook his head to clear it, breathing deeply as he checked the flight-board.

The radar went blank, then returned, showing the object he had been tracking now less than three kilometers away. Dev looked out the window, pushing the nose of the shuttle down slightly to clear the view. A lopsided grin creased his face as he caught sight of the tug. Again, he fired his thrusters and moved toward the wounded vessel.

As he approached, the damage to the tug became more obvious. The machine was tumbling, the coupling platform a collection of twisted girders and torn hoses. A long gash ran down the tug’s starboard flank, patches of frost collected across the scorched hull where fluids had leaked out. A single green running light remained, blinking calmly as the ship rolled end over end, somersaulting against the backdrop of stars. Dev tensed, the view hardly encouraging.

“Oasis Control?” He spoke into his mic, trying to keep his voice flat. “I’ve found the tug. The ship is in one piece, but shows heavy damage. No sign yet of survivors.”

He switched to the ship-to-ship frequency, his hopes fading as he waited for his computer to query the crippled ship. When no automatic reply came, he brought the mic boom closer to the corner of his mouth.

“7748 Uniform to Commercial Towing vessel Elizabeth Toland. Please come in.” He waited. “Towing vessel, this is Four-Eight Uniform, currently one point three kilometers sunward of your position. Please respond.”

A metallic taste spread through his mouth as he waited, the icy possibility that no one remained alive aboard the tug becoming more real with every passing second. To himself, he whispered, “Kammie, damn it, send me a sign.”

Fighting his own despair, he edged closer, closing the gap between the two ships, brief sparkles of torn metal and ice catching starlight as they drifted past. Suddenly, as the tug made another end-over roll, he saw a light flash in one of the tiny forward windows. The light flashed twice more before it was lost from view.

“Towing vessel Elizabeth Toland,” he said, forcing himself to remain calm despite his thundering heartbeat. “Please flash three times on you next revolution.”

He waited, barely breathing, the sour scent of his own sweat filling the cockpit as the tug’s forward end rolled once more into view. Dev watched for the light at the window, then whooped out loud as he once more saw the small but intense flash of what must have been a hand-torch blink three quick flashes. To his amazement, he felt the phone in his breast pocket buzz. Shaking, he flipped it open.

“Don’t know if you can hear this,” a faint, female voice said, the signal fading in and out. Dev didn’t need to be told it was Kammie Tule. “Our tracking dish is out, so we rigged a hand-held antenna.” The signal vanished, then returned a few seconds later. “No power and air pressure is dropping. Forty-three survivors, all in suits. Six in critical…”

Again, the voice in his phone faded, but didn’t return. Dev swore under his breath. It was maddening to be within shouting distance of the wounded tug, but having to communicate via a relay nearly forty thousand kilometers away. He relayed the information and position back to Oasis Control, then plugged the phone into the intercom.

“Hang on, Kammie. I’m going to attempt a grapple.” Leaving the phone on, he Velcroed it to the visor above his head then swung his helmet visor down. The row of lights flashed across the faceplate as the seal engaged, a metallic whiff of bottled air kissing his face. Dev drank it in, letting the pure oxygen clear his head as he nudged his ship toward the much larger vessel.

He glanced at the fuel meter and saw nearly a thousand kilograms of pressurized fuel remained in the auxiliary tank. Hardly a surplus, but hopefully enough to cancel the tug’s rotation and start braking, maybe even push them back toward Oasis. Gently, he played the controls, easing his shuttle into a matching orbit, rotating in time with the tug’s spin. The skewed g-forces pressed him against the side of the cockpit, the stars now whirling madly in front of him while the tug seemed to slow and finally come to a stop. Dev switched on the flood-lamps as he extended the grapple arms, the mechanical linkages stuttering into position.

“Almost there,” he said, not sure if anyone aboard the ship could hear him or not. “I’ll hook on amidship just forward of the platform.”

A strange calm fell over him as the final meters closed, experience taking over while he maneuvered into position. Gently, as if scratching an eyelid, Dev scissored the grapple arms around a coupling point. A faint click ran up the arms, followed by a low hiss as the hydraulic arms locked into position. Now, he thought ruefully, the real work begins.

“Hang on tight,” he warned, hoping Kammie heard him. Dev made a final check of the flight-board, then opened the throttle. A thunderstorm broke around him, the vibration rising as his engines pushed against the Elizabeth Toland.

Clinging to the armrests, Dev watched the board, gratified to see the numbers slowly swing in his favor. Burning fuel at a monstrous rate, he let the engine run. Sweat poured down his forehead, the vibration becoming more violent as the pressures increased. Suddenly, a red light flashed near the top of the board, an alarm shrilling as sensors reported a failure in the left grappling arm.

A grinding snap shook the cabin as the arm buckled. Dev’s hand flew toward the engine cut-off a millisecond too late. He gasped as the impact banged him against the restraints, shaking him. The shuttle rebounded, arcing in the opposite direction, still tethered by the remaining arm. Glass shattered, the air in the cabin joining the cloud of hydraulic fluid and ruptured fuel spewing out of the tanks. His head struck the cabin wall, lights flashing in his eyes as he lost consciousness, the hiss of air pouring into vacuum the last sound he heard.

Pain wound through his skull, a pounding throb that echoed the agony in his right shoulder. A sticky, coppery taste filled his mouth, his breath whistling through the blood coagulating in his nostrils. Darkness surrounded him, the stars and the cheerful blue screen of the cell phone still miraculously stuck to the ceiling the only light. He was cold.

“This is what it feels like to die,” Dev thought without any real emotion.

A flash of lightning sawed through his vision, vanished, then returned. Above him, drifting back and forth he watched the pool of light go from one side of the cabin to the other, diffused by the spider web of cracks in the shattered window. More light, red and blue instead of white, played around him, sparks hissing as they snicked against his visor. The pain worsened, and again he felt himself browning out, not sure if he really saw the cabin roof fly away or the mirrored faceplate looking down at him from outside.

Gray walls, a touch of frost on the metal surfaces, the light twisted. Dev stared blankly at the odd shadows, confused before it dawned on him that he was no longer wearing his helmet. His head throbbed as he tried to sit up, but a hand pressed him back down.

“Careful,” someone said. “You might have whiplash. Just stay still, all right?”

“Where am I?”

“Airlock aboard the Elizabeth Toland.” Kammie Tule shifted behind him, the fabric of her E-suit rustling as she scooted around to face him. She placed her hands on her own helmet and gave it a twist. The bulky headgear popped as it came loose. Her hair was matted with sweat and a thin cut ran at a slant into her left eyebrow, but despite the pain in his skull Dev had never seen anything so beautiful.

“Sorry about the way I had to get you out,” she continued. A cloud of breath hung around her face, the tips of her blond hair already stiffening in the frigid air. “We watched your ship break up but no one could tell if you survived or not. I wasn’t really sure until I got you in here and pulled your helmet off. Hope I wasn’t too rough.”

“I don’t remember. I think I blacked out.” Dev winced as he sat up, the pain reminding him how close he had just come to dying. “You saved my life, didn’t you?”

“Probably.” A lopsided smile played across her face. “You saved ours, so it’s a fair trade.”

“Did I?” He frowned, her words floating inside his aching head. “I managed to slow the Toland down?”

“Yeah. We’re down to just a few kilometers per hour. Oasis has already dispatched a rescue ship homing in on your beacon. They should be here in a couple hours.” Kammie’s smile deepened, the faint lines around her eyes heightened by the single battery powered light set in the airlock wall. “Believe it or not, they heard us talking on my phone. We couldn’t hear each other, but they tight-beamed a reply to us.”

“Good.” Dev began to shiver, suddenly so cold he couldn’t keep his teeth from chattering. Kammie peeled off her gauntlets and let them drift away as she worked the controls set in the left arm of his suit. Almost at once warmth spread around him, the heat pumps obviously still functional. He felt as if he had just slid into a warm bath, the chills deep but lessening. He shut his eyes and drifted asleep, floating in a pillowed dream.

Fingertips whispered across his cheeks, gentle circles around his temples. Dev sighed, reveling in the touch. Her touch. Kammie’s touch. His life had been so wrong for so long, but everything was going to be all right now. Kammie was back. They were together, and nothing was going to pull them apart again. His left shoulder ached, but he managed to reach up with his right hand and brush hers, needing to return the touch even if his suit kept them physically apart.

His eyes opened, reality coming back in a single, unyielding flood. Kammie still hung above him, staring down at him. Her hair was tipped with ice, the temperature inside the airlock brutal, but she didn’t seem to notice, the redness of her cheeks only making her more beautiful. She had been crying, he could tell, but now she smiled.

“They’re almost here. The rescue ship, I mean.” She continued to stroke his face. “We should be out of here in an hour.”

Before he truly understood what was happening, she bent forward and kissed him. A sharp pain cut across his swollen lip, but he didn’t care, the avalanche of sensation so intense he felt as if he was being pulled apart atom by atom. She drew back, only a little, so near he could feel her warmth against his cheek.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I’ve always loved you.”

“Kammie…” He wanted to say so much, but that was the only word he seemed able to say. He tried again to speak, but she silenced him with a touch of her finger against his lip.

“I know,” she said, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “We both have other lives. But that isn’t going to change anything, is it?” She bent forward and kissed him again, her tongue flicking at his teeth, the salty flavor of her lips more addictive than morphine. Eternity broke around them, time no more real than the clouds of spent breath spreading through the icy chamber. Finally, she drew back. “I think they owed us that much, don’t you?”

Dev wished he could think of something profound to say, but settled for a nod and a sad, quiet smile as they settled back to wait.

She was in the crowd when they off-loaded, huddled near the gate with the rest of the family members, a tiny shape held back by the low metal rail. Dev saw her as he was wheeled down the gantry and waved to her, ignoring the scolding from the army of medical technicians as he stood up.

“I’m all right,” he said, ignoring the protests. He glanced to his left, noting the line of injured people coming off the Elizabeth Toland, at least half of them strapped to litters. “I can walk from here.”

He moved away from the gantry, dragging his left leg. His shoulder throbbed, but at least his headache had subsided thanks to the heavy doses of painkiller they had given him during the flight back from the now deserted tug. A padded collar chaffed around his neck, but as badly as he wanted to throw the annoying brace away, he was sure that would certainly bring the technicians pouring down on him.

Behind him, as palpable as if she held the end of a long rope tied around his stomach, he felt Kammie watching. He paused, fighting the urge to turn around, then staggered ahead once more. By the time he reached the crowd Letha had already climbed over the rail and lowered herself clumsily to the metal deck.

“Be careful.” Dev hurried as much as his aching joints would allow, horrified as Letha stumbled then recovered. She spun around to face him.

“You’re a fine one to talk.” She stared at his face. “It’s a good thing you came back alive, or I’d have killed you.” She watched him, her dark eyes questioning. Dev reached for her, but stopped. Things had to be said, and the sooner he said them the better.

“Letha, I…” His words caught in his dry throat. “There’s some things you need to know.”

“Don’t,” she whispered. Her eyes darted over his shoulder, and he had no doubt she was looking at Kammie Tule. “Please don’t say it. Not right now.”

“I have to.” He reached again for her, ignoring the pain, and pulled her to him, the clean scent of her hair masking the deeper, sour aroma of fear. Dev laid his head against hers. No explosions of sensation rushed him, no drowning flood of undiluted need, but he didn’t care.

“I love you,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through these last couple days, and I can’t promise I won’t put you through more. But I love you. I love you so damn much. Someday, when this is all over and the baby is old enough, I want to go back to flying starships.”

“I can live with that.” Letha was crying, but managed a weak smile as she pulled away. “Now would you shut up and take me home?”

They started toward the ramp, moving slowly, hampered by her pregnancy and his injuries, both pretending not to hear the calls from the medical crew. Dev felt again the tug on his heart, but when he glanced back toward the gantry Kammie was gone. Beside him, Letha gave him a gentle shove on the small of the back. He felt a guilty blush creep over his face.

“I can tell you one thing, boyo,” she said, only half mocking as she patted her stomach. “If it’s a girl, we’re sure as hell not naming her Kammie.”

Dev smiled and leaned against his wife, letting her guide him into the corridor. “That’s fine with me,” he said. And to his surprise, it was.

Content

Ghosts Come Home
by Justin Stanchfield