The Stars Blue Yonder Read online

  “That’s Baylou Owenstein,” she said, nodding toward a man with white hair and long gray beard. Beside him was a much younger man. “And that’s my brother-in-law Brian Romero. And over there is—”

  “Commander Osherman,” Myell said. There was enough military left in him to nod respectfully. “Sir.”

  The years had not been kind to Osherman. His face was deeply cracked with wrinkles. His arthritic hands were wrapped around a cane. His eyes were rheumy, his posture hunched. He stared at Myell but didn’t nod or smile or give any indication that he’d even heard him.

  “Chief Myell,” Brian said, leaning forward. “You knew my father, Putty.”

  “And your mother,” Myell said. “We met at Supply School.”

  Baylou slapped his hand against his thigh. “Never met you, no I didn’t. Met your wife, though. She’s one of my best friends. You scared the hell out of her, showing up in her creek like that.”

  Lisa handed Myell a glass of water. His fingers tightened on it. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “We’re a tiny bit confused,” Brian said. “About how you got there. About how you can be here at all. And why you haven’t aged a single day.”

  Myell wished this part would get easier.

  “I don’t know,” he lied. “It’s all blank to me.”

  Osherman continued to stare at him silently. Baylou scratched his jaw, and Brian angled himself toward Lisa.

  “Amnesia?” Brian asked.

  Lisa gave Myell a considering look. “It’s possible.”

  Baylou said, “Mark Sweeney lost his memory for a while. After he fell down that mountainside.”

  “The only thing Uncle Mark forgot was how much poker money he owed people,” Brian said. “I never did get my four million yuros.”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” Lisa asked.

  Myell was feeling unnerved by Osherman’s stare but he didn’t want to show it, so he drank the water and kept his gaze on the others. “I was living on Fortune with your mother. We were married. She wasn’t pregnant.”

  Lisa’s chin lifted. “Nothing after that?”

  He shook his head. Lying.

  “How about the Roon?” Baylou asked. “Big ugly aliens that look like lizards. Ring a bell?”

  Myell gazed helplessly at them. No matter what he said, they wouldn’t believe him. The water twisted in his stomach and he put the glass down before he spilled it into his lap.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember what happened to me.”

  Baylou and Brian sat back in their chairs. Osherman’s cane scraped on the floor as he shifted his weight. He lifted himself from the chair with the stiff, cramped movements of a man burdened by age. His face was still unreadable, but there was no missing the certainty in his voice.

  “Terry Myell died back on Earth,” he said. “We buried him here. Whoever you are, you aren’t him.”

  On the other side of town, Teresa said, “I think you should stay in bed.”

  Jodenny already had her feet on the floor. “I want to see him.”

  “He’s resting. As you should be. That was quite a faint. You’re lucky you didn’t crack your head open on a rock.”

  One of the Taylor boys bicycled past the window, shouting something to his brother. Jodenny’s bedroom wasn’t much to look at—some furniture, bare walls, a few clothes on pegs—and Teresa was sitting in the only chair. Jodenny reached for her sandals.

  “My head’s perfectly fine,” she said.

  The front door to the cottage opened. A moment later Lisa came down the hall, looking thoughtful. She asked, “How are things here?”

  “Mom’s being stubborn,” Teresa reported.

  “How is he?” Jodenny asked.

  Lisa leaned against the door frame. Though she was several years older than Teresa, and they were only half sisters, sometimes the resemblance between them was startling. “Not so bad. He’s back to sleep now. No major injuries, just some bumps and bruises and dehydration. But he says he doesn’t remember where he’s been or how he got here.”

  Teresa asked, “You believe him?”

  “I don’t have any reason to disbelieve him.”

  “Doesn’t mean you have to trust him,” Jodenny said. “Don’t hurt Sam over this.”

  The other Taylor boy rode by, casting shadows into the room. Lisa and Teresa exchanged looks. Jodenny knew exactly what her daughters were thinking. The one who’d hurt Sam the most was the one who’d kicked him out of their bed and home.

  Briskly she reached for her other shoe. “You’re sure he’s not carrying a million different diseases?”

  “I wouldn’t have let him into my house if the scanners hadn’t okayed him,” Lisa said.

  “Scanners that are forty years out of date,” Jodenny said.

  Lisa shrugged. “If that’s the case, you better not visit him. It took you months to get over last winter’s flu. Your immune system’s not what it used to be.”

  “I’ll take that into consideration, Doctor.” Jodenny brushed past Lisa to splash cold water on her face. There wasn’t much she could do about the bird’s nest her hair had become—gray and stiff, unruly in the humidity—so she pulled on a hat, then took it off again. Forty years, and she was supposed to look good for some impostor who couldn’t possibly be her dead husband? Whoever he was, he could damn well take her in her ruined elderly state.

  When she came out of the bathroom, Lisa and Teresa had moved to the living room, with its solitary sofa and two flanking chairs. Brian Romero and his sister Alice, the town sheriff, had joined them. Brian was sitting with Teresa’s feet in his lap, massaging them for her. Alice was leaning against the front door, frowning.

  “Well?” Jodenny asked.

  Alice scratched at her sunburned nose. She was a tall woman with long blond hair and broad, dusty hands. “I went up there and checked myself. There’s still a body in the grave. No sign that it’s been disturbed recently. Or ever.”

  “So the man didn’t crawl out of a grave,” Lisa said. “You only have to look at him to know that’s true.”

  “He got into that creek somehow,” Brian said.

  Brian was a good man, sensible, popular enough to be elected mayor and smart enough to not abuse the position. Jodenny was happy to have him as a son-in-law. But she missed Lisa’s husband, Eric, who’d gone on a hunting trip and wouldn’t be back for two days. He was more likely to talk sense into Lisa than anyone else.

  “Who is he, if not Terry Myell?” Lisa asked. “His biological profile matches the information on his embedded dog tag, right down to the DNA sample. He’s a positive match for my DNA. And he knows things the real Terry Myell would know.”

  “Or he guesses well,” Jodenny said. “What did Sam think?”

  “He’s not saying,” Brian said. “I think he’d rather see us lock him up until it’s all worked out.”

  Alice sniffed. “Lock him up where? No one will let me build a decent jail.”

  Lisa said, “Why would you lock him up? He’s not carrying any weapons and he hasn’t threatened anyone. You think I’d put him in my spare bedroom if I thought he was dangerous? Around my own kids?”

  Brian said, “You might be a bit biased.”

  “Horseshit,” Lisa replied.

  Teresa grinned. “Give ’em hell, sis.”

  Jodenny shook her head at the lot of them. “I’m going to go see him. Get to the bottom of all this.”

  With Lisa at her elbow she crossed the lane from her cottage toward Lisa’s house. The sun had gone behind gray clouds and a wind was kicking up dust. Jodenny tilted her head back, frowning. The weather forecast had been for fair weather all week. When they reached Lisa’s, she saw four kids clustered by the side fence and trying to peer through the slats.

  “Get on, get going,” Jodenny said, shooing them with her hands. “Nothing to see out there.”

  Seven-year-old Mimi Balandra, her face dirty, peered up with big eyes. “Momma says there’s a
stranger in there from outer space!”

  “My daddy says he’s come down from heaven,” said six-year-old Luke Owenstein, one finger stuck up his nose.

  Lisa ushered them from the fence. “There’s nothing to see, and you all go home and tell your folks so.”

  Inside the house, all was dim and quiet. The ongoing struggle for dominance between houseplants and Lisa’s watercolor paintings appeared to have tipped again in the watercolors’ favor, with new landscapes and seascapes hanging on the walls and refrigerator. Paintings from the kids also adorned the walls. Books from the Kamchatka were kept on a high shelf as befitting their rare and precious status. An ancient deskgib, long past its usefulness, was collecting dust in one corner under the watchful gaze of the family cat, Leia.

  Jodenny was surprised to see Osherman and Baylou sitting silently in the living room, drinking coffee. Osherman didn’t say much these days, but Baylou could usually be counted on to be a chatterbox.

  “Anything exciting happen?” Lisa asked them.

  “He’s sleeping again. Nothing exciting about that,” Baylou said.

  Jodenny tried to read Osherman’s expression, but it was as inscrutable as it had been for the last ten years. He met her gaze for a moment and then turned his head, unwilling to share whatever he’d learned or decided.

  “Give us some time,” she said to Lisa. “This might take a while.”

  She went down the hall, her sandals soft on a rug of woven grasses. The door to the spare bedroom was closed. Her hand shook when she touched the knob, but that was the normal shakes. Not anxiety, she told herself. She had nothing to fear from him, and there wasn’t much to lose at this point anyway.

  Then she saw Myell lying in bed, the sheets pulled down to his waist, and the shakes began all over again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jodenny snagged a chair for her sorry ass and sat down with a thump.

  It wasn’t that Myell looked particularly sexy under that sheet. She hadn’t cared for romance in a long time and didn’t think even a lightning bolt could jump-start her libido. It wasn’t his apparent youth, either, though she was envious. She couldn’t even look at pictures of herself anymore. Impossible that she’d once had glossy hair and smooth skin. In his sleep Myell projected vulnerability and helplessness but she didn’t feel protective of him, exactly. Instead she was struck by what he represented: The past, lost to her forever. Her love, gone like water down a stream.

  The shakes continued, even as she sat on her hands and clamped her knees together.

  But eventually they passed, as all things did in her life, and when Myell woke she had her limbs under complete control.

  He woke up slowly, in obvious confusion. For a long moment he did nothing but stare at her. Jodenny held herself perfectly still. His gaze sharpened with recognition and he made a slight noise that could have been a protest.

  “So you know who I am,” she said. “That’s a start.”

  “Kay,” he said.

  She hadn’t heard that nickname in close to forever. Jodenny didn’t let herself blink or flush, however. “Not anymore. That was a long time ago.”

  He sat up in bed. “Not to me.”

  The next words out of her mouth surprised her. They weren’t what she was planning to say, and she wasn’t sure she believed them, but they came out anyway. “Whoever you are, you’re not Terry Myell. My husband’s dead.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “He died in my arms on Burringurrah,” she continued. “I buried him on the hill outside of town. We checked, and the corpse is still in the ground. So whatever or whoever you are, you’re not him.”

  He moved to the end of the bed and sat with his knees barely touching hers. His gaze was intent on her, as if memorizing every wrinkle and liver spot. She wanted to cover herself with a blanket.

  “I could tell you something,” he said. “Something only you and I know. Our first time making love. What we said to each other when we were trapped in that tower on the TSS Aral Sea. But you already know who I am.”

  Defensiveness crept into her voice. “You’re not him.”

  “You want to believe that,” he said, sounding thoughtful about it. “But you don’t, Kay. You know me. No matter what, no matter where, you know me.”

  She left the chair and paced to the window. Through the plastiglass, past Lisa’s water fountain and through the slats in the fence, she could see that the neighborhood kids had returned to gawk. Jodenny turned from the window, folded her arms across her chest, and glared at him.

  “Where’s your dilly bag?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Long gone. But I have this.”

  Myell held up his hand. His wedding ring was small and circular and instantly familiar to her.

  Jodenny shifted her gaze. Her own ring was on a necklace under her shirt, though she wasn’t about to admit it. “If you were him, I’d ask where you come from. And I wouldn’t listen to any horseshit about a bad memory.”

  Myell shifted back on the bed. She recognized the signs of being bone-tired, of having little left to draw on, but waited him out anyway.

  Finally he said, “I remember Commander Nam forced me on a mission to find some missing scientists. I remember most of the worlds we went to. At the end of it, there was some kind of space station. You were there. But it was . . . I don’t know. Destroyed? There were a lot of people there, and then no one but me. The whole place was falling apart. Then someone told me to use an ouroboros to escape and find you.”

  “You can call one? Control it?”

  “No.” More strength in his voice now, and grimness too. “I have no control. I don’t know how it brought me forty years forward in time, and I don’t know how to get back. All I know is I’m supposed to find some place or some thing called Kultana. Ever hear of it?”

  “No,” she said, but she was barely listening to him now. The prospect of escape had her in its grip. Not so much for her—where would she go?—but for the younger generations, for her children and grandchildren. With a token ring from the Wondjina Transportation System they could return to civilization. They could enjoy plenty of food, plenty of electricity, plenty of opportunities. No more scrabbling for survival.

  But he said he couldn’t control it. Maybe that was true, and maybe it wasn’t.

  “You said someone told you to use it. Who?”

  “I don’t know. I remember a voice, but not the details. I wasn’t in the best shape at the time.”

  “And now?” she asked. “If you can’t control the ring, does that mean you’re stuck here?”

  Myell rubbed his eyes. “Would that make you happy?”

  With more bitterness than she meant to reveal, she said, “It would have made me happy forty years ago.”

  “Tell me how I died on Earth. On Burringurrah.”

  She made a dismissive gesture. Those were old, bad memories, not easily resurrected even if she wanted to dig them up. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me,” he said.

  Jodenny turned back to the window. “Do you remember Leorah Farber? You met her on Fortune. She worked for Anna Gayle. Or Teddy Toledo? Her partner? They’re gone now. Mark Sweeney too. Hullabaloo, Louise—they’re all dead now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “We were sent here, stranded here, and they lived the rest of their lives waiting for rescue that never came. But here you are. Forty years late.”

  He stood up and came within touching distance of her, but didn’t reach out. “It hasn’t been forty years for me.”

  She kept her gaze on the garden. “Your daughter’s here. Your grandchildren. Trying to keep food on the table, keep the power going, keep the sewage from backing up every other day. They fight about who’s in charge, about religion, about alcohol. Half of them don’t know what it’s like to live in civilization and they’re never going to find out, because no one knows we’re out here.”

  Myell was silent.

  “You’re their only chance,
” she said, and her gaze settled on him with a heavy weight. “Do you understand? You have to save them.”

  “Save them but not you?” Myell asked.

  Jodenny snorted. “Save me for what?”

  Three knocks sounded against the door, which creaked open under Lisa’s hand. Her face was tight, but also hopeful. “Are you two okay in here?”

  “Fine,” Jodenny snapped.

  Myell asked, “Is that dinner I smell?”

  “Yes,” Lisa said. “I could use some help in the kitchen.”

  Jodenny gave her a glare, but Myell said, “You bet,” and moved past Lisa down the hall.

  “I said you shouldn’t interrupt,” Jodenny said.

  “It’s just food,” Lisa said, all innocence. “A good hot meal never hurt anyone.”

  “We were busy talking.”

  “You were busy haranguing, I bet.”

  Lisa followed Myell. Jodenny stayed at the window, suddenly tired beyond measure. By the time she joined them in the kitchen Myell was sitting on a stool and shucking small, narrow ears of corn. Lisa was chopping up tomatoes for a salad. The season’s crops had come through at last, though they’d lost a lot to fungus.

  Osherman was still sitting in the living room. Jodenny knew better than to try and avoid him, so she took the seat opposite. The table between them was one they’d had in their own house, once. It was recycled metal from the ship, scratched and worn over the decades but covered with a tablecloth Jodenny had received as a wedding gift.

  “You want something to drink, Mom?” Lisa asked. Behind her, thin raindrops started to splatter down on the window. “Or you, Sam?”

  “No,” Jodenny said.

  Osherman didn’t answer. He was staring at Myell and Lisa, who bent close to her father to show him where to recycle the corn husks. His intense concentration was not uncommon these days. He could stare all day at a tree, or a rock, or any old building. Jodenny didn’t know what he saw when he looked so long at one thing. He couldn’t or wouldn’t explain it, not to her, not in these last years of their lives.

  “Mom!” A flurry of feet and elbows marked Twig’s full-throttle arrival through the kitchen door and up against the counter. She had dust on her face and her long hair was loose from its ponytail. She stared at Myell. “Is this him? You’re my grandfather?”