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to do? How shall we get out of here?" |
Hank said, "Same way we come in. We blast out." |
"But I've tried that, Hank," Biggs defended. "Before I realized the |
full extent of our situation. And nothing happened. There's something |
strange in the response of the motors. Don't ask me what. It's hard to |
say, when the Saturn is plunging into beaconless, starless nothing. |
But stepped-up acceleration is just a waste of fuel." |
"Yeah?" mused Hank. "That's queer. Now, I wonder why " |
At that instant came a most unexpected interruption. Todd, who had been |
quietly tending his controls, suddenly came to life with a startled cry. |
"Well, I'll be Biggs! Captain Hanson!" |
"Yes?" Both men answered at once. |
"There there's a large body before us!" |
He pressed a button. A glassy pane above the panel glowed into |
life. As if a portion of the Saturn's prow had been sheared away, |
I was looking at the vista before us. But it was no longer empty |
as, according to Biggs, it had been ever since the moment of the |
"accident." The stark, gray loneliness was relieved now by a monstrous |
pockmark in space. A giant sphere, imponderably distant, but definitely |
on our trajectory! |
Hanson was a man of action, I learned. He leaped to the |
intercommunicating system. |
"Chief Garrity! Large body for'rd! Reverse hypes and apply drag |
instantly. Todd, plot a course revision! Man! What a monster! Biggs, |
get out the charts. Something solid at last. Maybe we've busted back |
into our own universe!" |
Biggs said, "Yes, sir! Right away, sir!" His eyes questioned Hank. But |
Cleaver shook his head. |
"Nope, I don't think so. It ain't logical. That's a phenom a phenom a |
pee-culiarity o' the cockeyed universe we're in Hey! What's goin' on |
here?" |
The constant hum of the hypatomic motors below, one I had hardly |
noticed until suddenly it no longer throbbed in my ears, had subtly |
altered. A brief instant of silence, a jarring concussion and a |
deeper, more resonant sound. |
Biggs explained, "That's the hypatomics being thrown into reverse. |
Anti-grav units are activated in the nose of the ship, then when we |
get the course variation we swing around our objective. Common space |
practice, Hank." |
"That's what," said Hank dubiously, "I figgered. Is it common space |
practice to make a beeline for danger, though, like Billy-be-damned?" |
And he pointed to the visiplate. Biggs' eyes followed his finger and |
Biggs gasped. |
"Great whirling comets! It's got us caught!" |
For despite the mounting clamor of the reversed engines, despite the |
anti-gravitational units of which Biggs had boasted, despite the |
swiftly redoubled orders and efforts of a shocked Captain Hanson the |
Saturn's speed had definitely increased! |
The figure in the plate was looming larger moment by moment, and |
even to my untrained eye it was plain that we were slam-banging, |
hell-for-leather, toward a crackup! |
Don't ask me what happened in the next few minutes. I wouldn't know. |
It's all one whirling blind spot in my memory. Up till now, this entire |
affair had partaken of the nature of a dream. Amusing, not unpleasant, |
but quite remote and faintly incredible. |
Now, suddenly, I realized it was not a dream. But that I, Jim |
Blakeson, publicity representative of Midland U., had somehow been |
dragged out of the normal routine of everyday life and thrust into a |
wild, impossible adventure in a world three centuries beyond my time. |
It was a disturbing awakening. It didn't make matters a bit better |
to realize that I was now along with five other twentieth century |
exiles in imminent peril of being slapped out of existence by a |
gigantic planet that shouldn't be in a dull, gray universe that didn't |
exist! |
About me, frantic figures boiled and churned. The skipper of the Saturn |
was bouncing about the control room like a bipedal gadfly, jerking |
switches, bellowing orders, pawing through charts that to me at |
least were a complete mystery. |
Dick Todd still sat, tense and grim-jawed, in his bucket-shaped pilot's |
chair. His fingers played the banked controls before him as the fingers |
of an accomplished organist seek stops, but so far as I could see, |
his movements availed nothing. For the object in the visiplate loomed |
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