Chapter 6

So it was that early Friday morning George Hanlon, still dressed in civvies, of course, arrived at the great passenger liner that was to take him to far Simonides. He was thrilled with the idea of making such a trip, for he loved the deeps of space--its immensity and its fathomless mystery gripped him with a feeling of grandeur.

Yet he had never been far outside the Solar system. The latter was not necessary on his training cruises, since all the details of a pilot’s job--the branch of the Service he had hoped to enter--were the same for both inter-planetary and inter-stellar travel. It was the navigator’s job that was the harder and more complicated on the longer, faster trips to destinations one could not see when blasting off.

This “Hellene“ on which he was to ride was about sixty-five feet in diameter and approximately three times that in length. The propulsion was, the builders and engineers acknowledged, not the ultimate by any means. They were still constantly experimenting and hoping for much swifter travel. Still, they did pretty well.

They had some measure of anti-gravity to help lift the ship from a planet. About 22%, Hanlon remembered. They still had to use rockets when near a planet--but these present-day rockets were a far cry from the early crude ones with which Snyder and his men had put first ships on the Moon and planets. These could deliver a thrust far more powerful than those early ones.

For long distances they used a type of “warping” that made the ship “skip” along the lines of force that permeate all space. Hanlon had never quite got it firmly fixed in his mind just how this was done, especially the technique of the engines that made it possible. That was “advanced stuff” that the cadets were not taught in their regular courses--it was Post Graduate work for those who were to become Engineering Masters.

As he went up the escalator into the ship Hanlon was met at the outer lock by a deck steward who led him toward the level where his cabin was located.

This was Hanlon’s first time aboard one of these luxury liners--how different the deep-piled rugs, the magnificently frescoed passageway walls, the deeply upholstered furniture, from the utilitarian plainness of the Corps’ warships on which he had made his practice cruises.

“As you may know, sir,” the steward said as they walked along, “there is neither night nor day in space, but we use Terran time on the ship, and lights are turned on and off to conform to the regular Terran day. Breakfast is served from seven to nine, luncheon from twelve to fourteen, and dinner from eighteen to twenty-one.”

“Thanks.” A credit note changed from hand to hand--tipping was still in style. The obsequious steward gave him further directions for finding the games and recreational rooms, and other points of interest aboard.

Hanlon unpacked, and stored his luggage in the compact closets and then, having heard the first and second warnings, hastened to the observation desk, to watch the take-off. He had barely reached it and been strapped into the acceleration chair turned to face the long, narrow quartzite port, when the blast-off sirens began screaming their third and final warning.

The intra-ship communicators blared, “All passengers and personnel strap in. Five minutes until blast-off ... four minutes ... three ... two ... one ... thirty seconds ... fifteen ... ten ... five, four, three, two, one, BLAST!”

Dimly heard through the insulated hull was what Hanlon knew to be a tremendous crescendo roar of sound, and he was pushed deep into the resilient spring-cushions of his chair. A constricting band seemed to be clamped on his chest, while at the same time there was a curious feeling that he should weigh less but didn’t. That was the peculiar sensation the combination of anti-gravity and the thrust of the rockers always gave.

From experience he knew how to regulate his breathing and to let his muscles and nerves relax as much as possible, so that for him there was but a brief moment of discomfort. Then he was able to watch the scene unfolding before and below him.

The ground and that outward splash of almost-intolerable flame quickly dropped away and within minutes the scene expanded until he was able to see hundreds of square miles of city, country and ocean. Soon he could see the distant mountains; but gradually the scene assumed a dimness of detail that persisted until they were far outside the atmosphere. Then the great continental masses became visible as a whole, but without any smaller details apparent.

Two and a half hours later they were past the Moon, and began building up the tremendous speed that was to take them across inter-stellar depths in a matter of short days. And as Luna shrank to a small sphere behind them, Hanlon felt the acceleration grow constant, so unstrapped himself and got up. He stretched hugely, to relieve the cramped feeling in his muscles, then turned to survey his fellow passengers.

He noticed several men in Corps’ uniform, and hoped none of them knew him--or if so, would be good enough not to spread word of his disgrace. That would make the trip uncomfortable, lonely and unproductive, for then it would be better for him to spend most of his time in his stateroom. He thought of those “interesting people” he had been told about ... whatever that tip might mean.

For George Hanlon, youngest man ever to be assigned to the Inter-Stellar Corps’ Secret Service--although he did not know this until later--had that within him which placed matters of duty uppermost in his mind at all times.

Accustomed for nearly half of his life to the conscious task of keeping his mind-reading talent hidden and unused, he now knew he must work at it continuously to bring it up to its highest possible level of efficiency. Only by thus knowing every facet of his ability could he do what had to be done in his new task.

He sat down again and closed his eyes in order better to study this problem without outside and extraneous matters interfering. He became awed and a little frightened as he realized fully the weight of his new duties and responsibilities, even though he had been all through this several times before. Somehow, his being aboard ship on his way to his actual work seemed to make this terrific responsibility more weighty.

Why must he be burdened with such a load as they had tied onto him? What were the Corps’ top brass thinking of, anyway, to put so much on an untried kid just out of school?

At last he began to think less of his own burden and to concentrate on seeing what he could pick up mentally. He kept his eyes closed, but opened his mind wide and let the welter of thought-impressions roll in unhindered.

There was much laughter and lighthearted gaiety about him, as was natural on such a luxury liner. There was also some fear of space and the emptiness; some actual illness from space-fright. There were many mental undercurrents, and in one or two instances he thought he caught vague hints of sinister intrigue, but was never quite able to isolate these, or to bring them into more distinct focus. Quite evidently the men--or women--thinking such thoughts were able to close their minds to some extent--or else he was too rusty at reading. He realized, too, that they might not be thinking of any such thing--he remembered once when he was a boy he thought he had caught some such thought, then found later it was merely a neighbor reading a story with a sinister plot.