Chapter 11

Hours later, Arcot regained consciousness. It was quiet in the ship. He was still strapped in his seat in the control room. The relux screens were in place, and all was perfectly peaceful. He didn’t know whether the ship was motionless or racing through space at a speed faster than light, and his first semiconscious impulse was to see.

He reached out with an arm that seemed to be made of dry dust, ready to crumble; an arm that would not behave. His nerves were jumping wildly. He pulled the switch he was seeking, and the relux screens dropped down as the motors pulled them back.

They were in hyperspace; beside them rode the twin ghost ships.

Arcot looked around, trying to decide what to do, but his brain was clogged. He felt tired; he wanted to sleep. Scarcely able to think, he dragged the others to their rooms and strapped them in their bunks. Then he strapped himself in and fell asleep almost at once.

Still more hours passed, then Arcot was waking slowly to insistent shaking by Morey.

“Hey! Arcot! Wake up! ARCOT! HEY!”

Arcot’s ears sent the message to his brain, but his brain tried to ignore it. At last he slowly opened his eyes.

“Huh?” he said in a low, tired voice.

“Thank God! I didn’t know whether you were alive or not. None of us remembered going to bed. We decided you must have carried us there, but you sure looked dead.”

“Uhuh?” came Arcot’s unenthusiastic rejoinder.

“Boy, is he sleepy!” said Wade as he drifted into the room. “Use a wet cloth and some cold water, Morey.”

A brisk application of cold water brought Arcot more nearly awake. He immediately clamored for the wherewithal to fill an aching void that was making itself painfully felt in his midsection.

“He’s all right!” laughed Wade. “His appetite is just as healthy as ever!”

They had already prepared a meal, and Arcot was promptly hustled to the galley. He strapped himself into the chair so that he could eat comfortably, and then looked around at the others. “Where the devil are we?”

“That,” replied Morey seriously, “was just what we wanted to ask you. We haven’t the beginnings of an idea. We slept for two days, all told, and by now we’re so far from all the Island Universes that we can’t tell one from another. We have no idea where we are.

“I’ve stopped the ship; we’re just floating. I’m sure I don’t know what happened, but I hoped you might have an idea.”

“I have an idea,” said Arcot. “I’m hungry! You wait until after I’ve eaten, and I’ll talk.” He fell to on the food.

After eating, he went to the control room and found that every gyroscope in the place had been thrown out of place by the attractions they had passed through. He looked around at the meters and coils.

It was obvious what had happened. Their attempt to escape had been successful; they had shot out between the stars, into the space. The energy had been drained from the power coil, as they had expected. Then the power plant had automatically cut in, recharging the coils in two hours. Then the drive had come on again, and the ship had flashed on into space. But with the gyroscopes as erratic as they were, there was no way of knowing which direction they had come; they were lost in space!

“Well, there are lots of galaxies we can go to,” said Arcot. “We ought to be able to find a nice one and stay there if we can’t get home again.”

“Sure,” Wade replied, “but I like Earth! If only we hadn’t all passed out! What caused that, Arcot?”

Arcot shrugged. “I’m sure I don’t know. My only theory is that the double gravitational field, plus our own power field, produced a sort of cross-product that effected our brains.

“At any rate, here we are.”

“We certainly are,” agreed Morey. “We can’t possibly back track; what we have to do is identify our own universe. What identifying features does it have that will enable us to recognize it?

“Our Galaxy has two ‘satellites’, the Greater and Lesser Magellanic Clouds. If we spent ten years photographing and studying and comparing with the photographs we already have, we might find it. We know that system will locate the Galaxy, but we haven’t the time. Any other suggestions?”

“We came out here to visit planets, didn’t we?” asked Arcot. “Here’s our chance--and our only chance--of getting home, as far as I can see. We can go to any galaxy in the neighborhood--within twenty or thirty million light years--and look for a planet with a high degree of civilization.

“Then we’ll give them the photographs we have, and ask them if they’ve any knowledge of a galaxy with two such satellites. We just keep trying until we find a race which has learned through their research. I think that’s the easiest, quickest, and most satisfactory method. What do you think?”

It was the obvious choice, and they all agreed. The next proposition was to select a galaxy.

“We can go to any one we wish,” said Morey, “but we’re now moving at thirty thousand miles per second; it would take us quite a while to slow down, stop, and go in the other direction. There’s a nice, big galactic nebula right in front of us, about three days away--six million light years. Any objections to heading for that?”

The rest looked at the glowing point of the nebula. Out in space, a star is a hard, brilliant, dimensionless point of light. But a nebula glows with a faint mistiness; they are so far away that they never have any bright glow, such as stars have, but they are so vast, their dimensions so great, that even across millions of light years of space they appear as tiny glowing discs with faint, indistinct edges. As the men looked out of the clear lux metal windows, they saw the tiny blur of light on the soft black curtain of space.

It was as good a course as any, and the ship’s own inertia recommended it; they had only to redirect the ship with greater accuracy.

Setting the damaged gyroscopes came first, however. There were a number of things about the ship that needed readjustment and replacement after the strain of escaping from the giant star.

After they had made a thorough inspection Arcot said:

“I think we’d best make all our repairs out here. That flame that hit us burned off our outside microphone and speaker, and probably did a lot of damage to the ray projectors. I’d rather not land on a planet unarmed; the chances are about fifty-fifty that we’d be greeted with open cannon muzzles instead of open arms.”

The work inside was left to Arcot and Fuller, while Morey and Wade put on spacesuits and went out onto the hull.

They found surprisingly little damage--far less than they had expected. True, the loudspeaker, the microphone, and all other instruments made of ordinary matter had been burned off clean. They didn’t even have to clean out the spaces where they had been recessed into the wall. At a temperature of ten thousand degrees, the metals had all boiled away--even tungsten boils at seven thousand degrees, and all other normal matter boils even more easily.

The ray projectors, which had been adjusted for the high power necessary to stop a sun in its orbit, were readjusted for normal power, and the heat beams were replaced.

After nearly four hours work, everything had been checked, from relays and switch points to the instruments and gyroscopes. Stock had been taken, and they found they were running low on replacement parts. If anything more happened, they would have to stop using some of the machinery and break it up for spare parts. Of their original supply of twenty tons of lead fuel, only ten tons of the metal were left, but lead was a common metal which they could easily pick up on any planet they might visit. They could also get a fresh supply of water and refill their air tanks there.

The ship was in as perfect condition as it had ever been, for every bearing had been put in condition and the generators and gyroscopes were running smoothly.

They threw the ship into full speed and headed for the galaxy ahead of them.

“We are going to look for intelligent beings,” Arcot reminded the others, “so we’ll have to communicate with them. I suggest we all practice the telepathic processes I showed you--we’ll need them.”

The time passed rapidly with something to do. They spent a considerable part of it reading the books on telepathy that Arcot had brought, and on practicing it with each other.

By the end of the second day of the trip, Morey and Fuller, who had peculiarly adaptable minds, were able to converse readily and rapidly, Fuller doing the projecting and Morey the receiving. Wade had divided his time about equally between projecting and reading, with the result that he could do neither well.