Next Door Next World, Page 3
Robert Donald Locke
control deck clocksand hurried through his pre-jump check list. Tension mounted inside him.He contacted the Operations people in the bunker over the radio net.Colonel Sagen's voice came in clear: "Five minutes, Lance."
"I am receiving. Area cleared?"
Traffic broke into report: "Take-off will proceed on schedule."
The function lights on the "tree" in front of Lance shone green. Gyroswere caged; the tapes were set to roll. Lance's big hands hoveredlightly near the manual over-rides. He was ready to fly, and theautopilot lights were already winking out in count-down. But you nevercould be sure until the last moment.
What had Carolyn been trying to tell him?
Before he could pursue the thought, he felt the pressure of the risingship take hold; gently at first as she cleared the ground; then heavierand heavier, until his face felt like a rubber mask under theacceleration and his heart commenced pounding.
It didn't take long these days for any ship to build up a tremendousvelocity in space. Lance cleared the ecliptic by a hundred millionmiles; then with the Solar System spread out flat below him, he openedup his flight orders. His destination, he discovered, was Groombridge34, a visual double star. Right ascension: zero hours, thirteen minutes.Declination: forty-three and four-tenths degrees. Nearly twelvelight-years distant.
Since the star's apparent location was nearly halfway up the sky fromthe celestial equator, Lance could begin the jump any time and not worryon his way about skewing too near the gravitational field of anylarge-massed body in his own immediate vicinity.
He permitted himself one brief glance at the blazing universe that hungall about him: the bright fixed lights that were innumerable sunsagainst an eternal blackness, and the luminous dust in between that waseven farther-flung. Confusion and chaos seemed to dwell here; if a mangazed too long, he could quietly go mad. But even more insane, heanticipated, would be the thick, writhing nothingness of hyperspace.
Lance Cooper made one final check of all the ship's operatingcomponents; then crossed his fingers and cut in the hype-drive.
Instantly, his teeth crashed together and clenched; his strapped-in bodywas jerked back in its cushioned seat; sweat beaded his brow. A thousandneedles prickling his skin couldn't have been worse. He had been toldonce that the switching-out from this known universe into an unknown onewould feel just like a ten-thousand volt jolt in an old-fashionedelectric chair; and now he could believe it. Every cell in his body hadbegun tingling; his stomach pitched under a racking nausea; and aninvoluntary trickle of saliva dripped from his mouth the moment he gothis jaws working again.
But Lance fought the nausea, fought the sickness, and gradually as hisflesh accommodated to the change, he felt better.
It was then that the most disturbing phenomenon of all took place. Hefelt for a moment as if he had been split into two persons. No, fourpersons, eight, sixteen, an infinity of other selves. They were allbeside him, in him and out of him. His eyes ached. He shut them.
When he opened them again, everything was almost back to normal. Theother selves had vanished. Only the constant throbbing vibration of theship remained; yet it was a discomfort that had to be endured for foursolid straight weeks now. There was no other means known, by which aman-made vessel could travel faster than light.
Funny about that four weeks, too, thought Lance. All distances inhyperspace were the same, no matter where you wished to go; it requiredno more than fourteen days and no less, regardless of whether you jumpedone light-year or fifty. Lance had always understood there wereequations on file at HQ, which explained the paradox. But not being amath expert, he had never missed not being allowed to see them.
He flicked a switch and opened up his viewports again. The starryuniverse had vanished. The _Cosmos XII_ was riding through a gray void.Alone and--
No, it wasn't alone!
Again, Lance's vision suffered a wrenching sickness. Out there in thecolorless vacuum, hundreds of replicas of the _Cosmos XII_ rode alongbeside him, above him, below him, stretched out in all directions.
There had been nothing in the manuals about this.
Lance stared at the meaningless phenomenon for a long time despite thefact it made his brain ill. At last, he decided it was harmless,whatever was causing it. He shook his head slowly and closed the portsdown. He hoped Groombridge 34 would be less taxing.
* * * * *
The system was.
After the ship reverted to normal space in the vicinity of Groombridge34, Lance hovered about it exactly twelve hours, following all theinstructions in his manual to the letter. He started up the cameras andother recording instruments. All went well, there were no incidents, novessels disturbed him; though had the two components of the binary beenat periastron, it would have simplified the work with the positionmicrometer. If anything else of interest had been detected, it wouldhave to be deciphered from the film and tapes later. You can get asclose as four billion miles to an Earth-sized planet in space--and it'llstill show up fainter than a fourteenth magnitude star.
Somewhere in the galaxy, Lance supposed, there must be other racesbuilding spaceships and guiding them from sun to sun. But thus far, thescout ships from Terra--for all their magnified caution--had never runinto signs of any.
The old veteran hype-pilots had the best philosophy after all. Earth wasthe choicest hunk of mud you were going to find. _Enjoy it, brethren._
Well, he would certainly live it up when he got back, Lance swore. Hewould have his wedding; import Casey from the Club to spike the punch;and, perhaps after he'd gotten in his required number of scout-missions,he might even settle for a chair-borne exec's billet, himself.
Exactly twenty-eight days and twelve hours from the time of hisdeparture from Earth, Lance Cooper was back home again. The _Cosmos XII_re-materialized out of hyperspace in the neighborhood of the SolarSystem with its fuel tanks scarcely a third depleted, but its pilot adrained man. Lance, truthfully, not only felt weary and torpid, but agreat deal disappointed.
He contacted Traffic, asked for and got a landing trajectory. A fewhours later, he had coasted home and the trip was over.
He scrambled down out of the ship, hungry for Carolyn.
The base hadn't changed any in a month, that he could see. A couple ofnew floodlights put in, perhaps. Some brass were emerging from thecontrol bunker. Colonel Sagen, several others. He recognized them all.Two were SSP's--Space Service Police.
* * * * *
When the colonel got close, Lance tossed off a salute and an insouciantgrin: "Well, the Prodigal made it back home, sir. Hope that pessimisticdaughter of yours is stashed around somewhere. Otherwise--"
"Otherwise, what?" returned the colonel, unsmiling.
"Why I'm liable to go busting right through that fence," said Lance."And say, if anybody's worrying about the _Cosmos XII_, she flew like adream, colonel. Matter of fact, she--"
Colonel Sagen's jaws snapped together. Wheeling, he barked at the twoSSP's: "Spacemen, arrest this officer! Immediately!"
Lance couldn't believe his ears.
"Hey, wait a minute!" he protested. "What have I done?"
Nobody answered. Not at first.
"Well?" Lance asked again, a little more uneasy this time.
"I have no daughter, major," Hard-Head Sagen growled, standing with hislegs braced apart and his ramrod shoulders looking businesslike. "Inever have had."
The space cops sprang forward. One drew a pistol, held it on thereturned pilot, while the other quickly moved behind Lance and pinionedhis arms back.
"Is this a joke, colonel?" Lance demanded, struggling. "If it is, Idon't appreciate it. You know you've got a daughter, and I'm going tomarry her!"
The colonel's jaws clamped tight; and he shook his head from side toside, as if he were dealing with a person suddenly out of his mind. Thenhe acted.
"Put this man under close confinement," he ordered Lance's guards."Allow no visitors of any kind." The colonel's tone was harsh andw
orried. "I've got to buck this matter to HQ. We can't have it blow upright now, God knows."
The space police nudged Lance. "All right, major. Let's go."
Lance's anger seethed to a boil. Hunching his shoulders, he rammed backagainst the guard holding him, sending him tumbling. What was inside hismind to do if he managed an escape, he couldn't have told. He only knewhe had to get away. The colonel had flipped.
And where, by the way, was Carolyn? It seemed impossible she could be inon it, too.
He stood free for a moment, watching warily.
"Hold him!" shouted Colonel Sagen. "Don't let him run loose."
"We got gas pills, colonel," suggested the space cop Lance had bowledover. The man was rising to his feet.
"Use them."
Lance started to run. Over his shoulder,
"I am receiving. Area cleared?"
Traffic broke into report: "Take-off will proceed on schedule."
The function lights on the "tree" in front of Lance shone green. Gyroswere caged; the tapes were set to roll. Lance's big hands hoveredlightly near the manual over-rides. He was ready to fly, and theautopilot lights were already winking out in count-down. But you nevercould be sure until the last moment.
What had Carolyn been trying to tell him?
Before he could pursue the thought, he felt the pressure of the risingship take hold; gently at first as she cleared the ground; then heavierand heavier, until his face felt like a rubber mask under theacceleration and his heart commenced pounding.
It didn't take long these days for any ship to build up a tremendousvelocity in space. Lance cleared the ecliptic by a hundred millionmiles; then with the Solar System spread out flat below him, he openedup his flight orders. His destination, he discovered, was Groombridge34, a visual double star. Right ascension: zero hours, thirteen minutes.Declination: forty-three and four-tenths degrees. Nearly twelvelight-years distant.
Since the star's apparent location was nearly halfway up the sky fromthe celestial equator, Lance could begin the jump any time and not worryon his way about skewing too near the gravitational field of anylarge-massed body in his own immediate vicinity.
He permitted himself one brief glance at the blazing universe that hungall about him: the bright fixed lights that were innumerable sunsagainst an eternal blackness, and the luminous dust in between that waseven farther-flung. Confusion and chaos seemed to dwell here; if a mangazed too long, he could quietly go mad. But even more insane, heanticipated, would be the thick, writhing nothingness of hyperspace.
Lance Cooper made one final check of all the ship's operatingcomponents; then crossed his fingers and cut in the hype-drive.
Instantly, his teeth crashed together and clenched; his strapped-in bodywas jerked back in its cushioned seat; sweat beaded his brow. A thousandneedles prickling his skin couldn't have been worse. He had been toldonce that the switching-out from this known universe into an unknown onewould feel just like a ten-thousand volt jolt in an old-fashionedelectric chair; and now he could believe it. Every cell in his body hadbegun tingling; his stomach pitched under a racking nausea; and aninvoluntary trickle of saliva dripped from his mouth the moment he gothis jaws working again.
But Lance fought the nausea, fought the sickness, and gradually as hisflesh accommodated to the change, he felt better.
It was then that the most disturbing phenomenon of all took place. Hefelt for a moment as if he had been split into two persons. No, fourpersons, eight, sixteen, an infinity of other selves. They were allbeside him, in him and out of him. His eyes ached. He shut them.
When he opened them again, everything was almost back to normal. Theother selves had vanished. Only the constant throbbing vibration of theship remained; yet it was a discomfort that had to be endured for foursolid straight weeks now. There was no other means known, by which aman-made vessel could travel faster than light.
Funny about that four weeks, too, thought Lance. All distances inhyperspace were the same, no matter where you wished to go; it requiredno more than fourteen days and no less, regardless of whether you jumpedone light-year or fifty. Lance had always understood there wereequations on file at HQ, which explained the paradox. But not being amath expert, he had never missed not being allowed to see them.
He flicked a switch and opened up his viewports again. The starryuniverse had vanished. The _Cosmos XII_ was riding through a gray void.Alone and--
No, it wasn't alone!
Again, Lance's vision suffered a wrenching sickness. Out there in thecolorless vacuum, hundreds of replicas of the _Cosmos XII_ rode alongbeside him, above him, below him, stretched out in all directions.
There had been nothing in the manuals about this.
Lance stared at the meaningless phenomenon for a long time despite thefact it made his brain ill. At last, he decided it was harmless,whatever was causing it. He shook his head slowly and closed the portsdown. He hoped Groombridge 34 would be less taxing.
* * * * *
The system was.
After the ship reverted to normal space in the vicinity of Groombridge34, Lance hovered about it exactly twelve hours, following all theinstructions in his manual to the letter. He started up the cameras andother recording instruments. All went well, there were no incidents, novessels disturbed him; though had the two components of the binary beenat periastron, it would have simplified the work with the positionmicrometer. If anything else of interest had been detected, it wouldhave to be deciphered from the film and tapes later. You can get asclose as four billion miles to an Earth-sized planet in space--and it'llstill show up fainter than a fourteenth magnitude star.
Somewhere in the galaxy, Lance supposed, there must be other racesbuilding spaceships and guiding them from sun to sun. But thus far, thescout ships from Terra--for all their magnified caution--had never runinto signs of any.
The old veteran hype-pilots had the best philosophy after all. Earth wasthe choicest hunk of mud you were going to find. _Enjoy it, brethren._
Well, he would certainly live it up when he got back, Lance swore. Hewould have his wedding; import Casey from the Club to spike the punch;and, perhaps after he'd gotten in his required number of scout-missions,he might even settle for a chair-borne exec's billet, himself.
Exactly twenty-eight days and twelve hours from the time of hisdeparture from Earth, Lance Cooper was back home again. The _Cosmos XII_re-materialized out of hyperspace in the neighborhood of the SolarSystem with its fuel tanks scarcely a third depleted, but its pilot adrained man. Lance, truthfully, not only felt weary and torpid, but agreat deal disappointed.
He contacted Traffic, asked for and got a landing trajectory. A fewhours later, he had coasted home and the trip was over.
He scrambled down out of the ship, hungry for Carolyn.
The base hadn't changed any in a month, that he could see. A couple ofnew floodlights put in, perhaps. Some brass were emerging from thecontrol bunker. Colonel Sagen, several others. He recognized them all.Two were SSP's--Space Service Police.
* * * * *
When the colonel got close, Lance tossed off a salute and an insouciantgrin: "Well, the Prodigal made it back home, sir. Hope that pessimisticdaughter of yours is stashed around somewhere. Otherwise--"
"Otherwise, what?" returned the colonel, unsmiling.
"Why I'm liable to go busting right through that fence," said Lance."And say, if anybody's worrying about the _Cosmos XII_, she flew like adream, colonel. Matter of fact, she--"
Colonel Sagen's jaws snapped together. Wheeling, he barked at the twoSSP's: "Spacemen, arrest this officer! Immediately!"
Lance couldn't believe his ears.
"Hey, wait a minute!" he protested. "What have I done?"
Nobody answered. Not at first.
"Well?" Lance asked again, a little more uneasy this time.
"I have no daughter, major," Hard-Head Sagen growled, standing with hislegs braced apart and his ramrod shoulders looking businesslike. "Inever have had."
The space cops sprang forward. One drew a pistol, held it on thereturned pilot, while the other quickly moved behind Lance and pinionedhis arms back.
"Is this a joke, colonel?" Lance demanded, struggling. "If it is, Idon't appreciate it. You know you've got a daughter, and I'm going tomarry her!"
The colonel's jaws clamped tight; and he shook his head from side toside, as if he were dealing with a person suddenly out of his mind. Thenhe acted.
"Put this man under close confinement," he ordered Lance's guards."Allow no visitors of any kind." The colonel's tone was harsh andw
orried. "I've got to buck this matter to HQ. We can't have it blow upright now, God knows."
The space police nudged Lance. "All right, major. Let's go."
Lance's anger seethed to a boil. Hunching his shoulders, he rammed backagainst the guard holding him, sending him tumbling. What was inside hismind to do if he managed an escape, he couldn't have told. He only knewhe had to get away. The colonel had flipped.
And where, by the way, was Carolyn? It seemed impossible she could be inon it, too.
He stood free for a moment, watching warily.
"Hold him!" shouted Colonel Sagen. "Don't let him run loose."
"We got gas pills, colonel," suggested the space cop Lance had bowledover. The man was rising to his feet.
"Use them."
Lance started to run. Over his shoulder,
