Islands of Space - John W. Campbell (pdf to ebook reader TXT) 📗

The spaceship reeled, perking the men around in the control seats. Heavy safety relays thudded dully; the instruments flickered under a suddenly rising surge of power⁠—then they were calm again. Arcot had snapped over the power switch.

“That,” he said quietly, “is not so good.”

“Threw the gyroscopes, didn’t it?” asked Morey, his voice equally as quiet.

“It did⁠—and I have no idea how far. We’re off course and we don’t know which direction we’re headed.”

“What’s the matter?” asked Fuller anxiously.

Arcot pointed out the window at a red star that blazed in the distance. “We got too near the field of gravity of that young giant and he threw us for a loss. We drained out three-fourths of the energy from our coils and lost our bearings in the bargain. The attraction turned the gyroscopes and threw the ship out of line, so we no longer know where the sun is.

“Well, come on, Morey; all we can do is start a search. At this distance, we’d best go by Sirius; it’s brighter and nearer.” He looked at the instrument panel. “I was using the next lowest power and I still couldn’t avoid that monster. This ship is just a little too hot to handle.”

Their position was anything but pleasant. They must pick out from the vast star field behind them the one star that was home, not knowing exactly where it was. But they had one tremendous help⁠—the photographs of the star field around Sol that they had taken at the last stop. All they had to do was search for an area that matched their photographs.

They found the sun at last, after they had spotted Sirius, but they had had to rotate the ship through nearly twenty-five degrees to do it. After establishing their bearings, they took new photographs for their files.

Meanwhile, Wade had been recharging the coils. When he was finished, he reported the fact to Arcot.

“Fine,” Arcot said. “And from now on, I’m going to use the least possible amount of power. It certainly isn’t safe to use more.”

They started for the control room, much relieved. Arcot dived first, with Wade directly behind him. Wade decided suddenly to go into his room and stopped himself by grabbing a handhold. Morey, following close behind, bumped into him and was brought to rest, while Wade was pushed into his room.

But Fuller, coming last, slammed into Morey, who moved forward with new velocity toward the control room, leaving Fuller hanging at rest in the middle of the corridor.

“Hey, Morey!” he laughed. “Send me a skyhook! I’m caught!” Isolated as he was in the middle of the corridor, he couldn’t push on anything and remained stranded.

“Go to sleep!” advised Morey. “It’s the most comfortable bed you’ll find!”

Wade looked out of his room just then. “Well, if it isn’t old Weakmuscles Fuller! Weighs absolutely nothing and is still so weak he can’t push himself around.”

“Come on, though, Morey⁠—give me a hand⁠—I got you off dead center.” Fuller flailed his hand helplessly.

“Use your brains, if you have any,” said Morey, “and see what you can do. Come on, Wade⁠—we’re going.”

Since they were going to use the space control, they would remain in free fall, and Fuller would remain helplessly suspended in midair.

The air of the ship suddenly seemed supercharged with energy as the space around them became gray; then the stars were all before them. The ship was moving forward again.

“Well, old pals,” said Fuller, “at least I have traffic blocked fairly well if I feel like it, so eventually you’d have to help me. However⁠—” He floundered clumsily as he removed one of his foam-rubber space-boots, “⁠—my brains tell me that action is equal and opposite to reaction!” And he threw the boot with all possible velocity toward Morey!

The reaction of the motion brought him slowly but surely to a handhold in the wall.

In the meantime, the flying boot caught Morey in the chest with a pronounced smack! as he struggled vainly to avoid it. Handicapped by the lack of friction, his arms were not quite powerful enough to move his mass as quickly as his legs might have done, for his inertia was as great as ever, so he didn’t succeed in ducking.

“Round one!” called Arcot, laughing. “Won by Kid Fuller on a T.K.O.! It appears he has brains and knows how to use them!”

“You win,” laughed Morey. “I concede the battle!”

Arcot had cut off the space-strain drive by the time Fuller reached the control room, and the men set about making more observations. They took additional photographs and turned on the drive again.

Time passed monotonously after they had examined a few stars. There was little difference; each was but a scene of flaming matter. There was little interest in this work, and, as Fuller remarked, this was supposed to be a trip of exploration, not observation. They weren’t astronomers; they were on a vacation. Why all the hard work? They couldn’t do as good a job as an experienced astronomer, so they decided to limit their observations to those necessary to retrace their path to Earth.

“But we want to investigate for planets to land on, don’t we?” asked Morey.

“Sure,” agreed Fuller. “But do we have to hunt at random for them? Can’t we look for stars like our own sun? Won’t they be more apt to have planets like Sol’s?”

“It’s an idea,” replied Morey.

“Well, why not try it then?” Fuller continued logically. “Let’s pick out a G-0 type sun and head for it.”

They were now well out toward the edge of the Galaxy, some thirty thousand light years from home. Since they had originally headed out along the narrow diameter of the lens-shaped mass of stars that forms our Island Universe, they would reach the edge soon.

“We won’t have much chance of finding a G-0 this far out,” Arcot pointed out. “We’re about out of stars. We’ve left most of the Galaxy behind us.”

“Then let’s go on to another of the galactic