The Worlds of George O

by George O. Smith

  "Well, we won't," said Barden helplessly.

  "Won't what?"

  "Ever catch up with it! Not where it's gone!"

  "So--?"

  "So we've solved that problem," he said bitterly. "Your informant was right. From what the counter says, that was a vicious number. Well, I guess I am licked, finally. I admit it."

  "Somehow," said Edith solemnly, "I know I should feel elated. But I am not. Fact of the matter is, I am ashamed that there is a portion of my brain that tells me that I am proven correct. I... fervently wish it were not so."

  "Thanks," he said. "I wish but one thing."

  "What?"

  "I'd have preferred to have been aboard that crate!"

  "Tom!" she said plaintively. "Not--oblivion."

  "No," he said with a wistful smile. "At superspeed, my recording instruments could record nothing. Perhaps if I'd been aboard I could have found out what really happened. There is no way."

  "But what can we do?"

  "Build another one, and spend my time trying to find out how to get a recording from a body that isn't really existent in this space at all."

  "That sounds impossible."

  "Then there is but one answer," he said, "and that is to go out with it, and hope that by some machination I can control the reaction before it gets beyond stopping."

  "Tom," she said quietly, "you are still convinced that such a thing is possible?"

  "I am," he said. And then he stopped as his face filled with wonder.

  "What?" she asked, seeing the change.

  "Look," he said, his voice rising in excitement. "We caught radiation.

  Right?"

  "Right."

  "That means that the ship was not exceeding the velocity of light when it went up!"

  "Yes, but--?"

  "Then on the instantaneous recorders there must be a complete record of what every instrument should have been reading but did not due to the mechanical inertia of these meters! Right?"

  "But suppose--"

  "Look, Edith. The theory of the drive is based upon the development of a monopolar magnetic field that encloses space in upon itself like a blister, twisted off from the skin of a toy balloon. Now that field would collapse if the fission started, because the fission is initiated, as you claim, by magnetostrictive alignment of the planetary orbits of the field electrons in the atoms. Obviously, the magnetostrictive effect is more pronounced near the center of the monopolar generator. Ergo, that would go first, dropping the speed of the ship to below the velocity of light by a considerable amount. Then, as the fission continued, spreading outward, the various instruments would go blooey--but not until they'd had... did you say thirteen microseconds after initiation the major fission took place?"

  "Yes."

  "Give it twelve microseconds to drop the ship below the speed of light, and I have still one full microsecond for recordings!"

  * * * *

  Edith Ward looked up in admiration. "And you'll bet your life on what your instruments can see in one millionth of a second?"

  "Shucks," he grinned. "Way, way back they used microsecond pulses to range aircraft, and they got to the point where a microsecond of time could be accurately split into several million parts of its own. Besides, I made those instruments!"

  "Q.E.D.," said Edith Ward quietly. "But how are you going to develop a monopolar magnetic field without the magnetostrictive effect? The prime consideration is not the field, but the fact that aligning the planetary orbits means that two things tend to occupy the same place at the same time.

  That isn't--they tell me--possible."

  "Too bad the reverse isn't true," he said.

  "You mean the chance of something occupying two places at the same time?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "What then?"

  "Then we could develop two monopolar fields of opposing polarities to inclose the twin-ship proposition. Then the atomic orbits would not be affected, since they would receive the bipolar urge."

  "Couldn't you change from one to the other very swiftly?"

  "Not without passing through zero on the way. Every time we passed through zero we'd end up at sub-speed. The ship would really jackrabbit."

  "Oh."

  "But," he said thoughtfully, "what happens if the monopolar field is generated upon a true square wave?"

  "A true square wave is impractical."

  "You mean because at the moment of transition, the wave front must assume, simultaneously, all values between zero and maximum?"

  "Yes," she said, "and it is impossible to have any item operating under two values."

  "That is an existent item," said Barden with a smile. "Bringing back H.

  G. Wells' famous point of whether an instantaneous cube could exist."

  "This I do not follow."

  "Look, Edith," said Tom patiently. "Any true square wave must have a wave front in which the rise is instantaneous, and assuming all values between zero and maximum for the duration of an instant. An instant is the true zero-time, with a time-quantum of nothing--the indivisible line that divides two adjoining events. Just as a true line has no thickness.

  "Now," he went on, "generating the monopolar field on a true square wave would flop us from one field to the other in true no-time. At that instant, we would be existing in all values from maximum negative to maximum positive, at the same time as zero--but not truly assigned a real value. Therefore we should not stop.

  "However," he went on, "that is an impossibility because the true instant of no duration is impossible to achieve with any mechanism, electrical or otherwise. However, the fields set up to make possible this square wave do permit the full realization of the problem. For a practical duration, however small, the value of the wave does actually assume all values from maximum negative to maximum positive!"

  She looked at him with puzzlement. "I thought they taught you only this one science," she said.

  "That would have been useless," he grinned. "As useless as trying to teach a Hottentot the full science of electronics without giving him the rest of physics as a basis. No, little lady, I got the full curriculum, including a full training in how to think logically! How else?"

  "You win," she said solemnly. "Fudge up your true square wave, and I'll buy a ticket back home in your crate!"

  "Thanks, Edith," he said. "That's a high compliment. But there's more of us than we-all. I'll have to take a vote."

  There was a roar at Barden's explanation. And his head technician stood up, waving for silence. "There's enough lifecraft aboard," he shouted over the noise. "Anybody who wants to get out can take 'em. They can make Terra from here in a couple of months in a lifecraft if they want to."

  That got a roar of approval.

  "Lucky I had two ships all fitted out," said Tom. "Also, with all this spare junk for radio-controlling the other crate we've got a shipload of spare parts. Probably take about a week flat to tinker it together, but it is far better to do it out here than to go all the way home to Terra--that'd take about four weeks."

  "I wonder why they didn't think of that square-wave idea," said Edith.

  "Lord only knows."

  "That's what bothers me," she said.

  "Why?"

  "Because we are playing with the other man's cards, remember.

  We're not leading authorities in this art. You got both the square-wave generator and the monopolar field out of them. Now why hadn't they tried it before?"

  "On the theory that no beginner ever has a valid idea? No soap.

  Maybe they've been too close to the woods to see anything but them trees.

  Of course, there's another little angle we've not considered."

  "Go on. First it was a political difference between factions for and against subjugation. Then I came in and threw in my two cents, which sort of hardened the argument a bit. We didn't know whether my stuff was shoved in to stop production or to save Sol. We know now that your informant was telling the truth, but not the whole truth. We k
now that mine was honest, but not why he was. Then we came to the possibility that someone somewhere tossed us a fish because they were afraid to try it.

  Why the stopper on that?"

  "Possibly they want us really to try it out, and not total destruction."

  "But--??"

  "Look, Edith. Supposing you wanted to have something developed for you by a consulting laboratory. You've done that yourself at Solar Labs.

  Wouldn't you give them whatever information you had available?"

  She nodded. "Nice explanation," she said solemnly. "Excepting that if I were doing it, I'd not call one man and start him experimenting on one pretext, and then call another member of the laboratory and tell him that the information would lead to disaster."

  "In other words, the big problem is motive."

  "Precisely. And that's what we're up against. Try to figure out the hidden motives of extra-solar cultures."

  "You believe there are two?"

  Tom Barden nodded. "Uh-huh," he said. "And all the talking we can do from now until we find out won't help, because we cannot interpret the thoughts of an alien culture in our own terms and hope to come out right!"

  * * * *

  And that, of course, was that. It was definitely true. Reviewing all the evidence during the next ten days, they came up with a startlingly minute amount of fact. Barden had been given a scientific field because of a political argument; Edith Ward had been warned that the information was incomplete and would lead to disaster.

  Build upon those slender bricks, and they tumble all too quickly.

  Barden's story could be construed as an attempt to get consulting service on a dangerous project without danger to the alien race. Ward's informant might have been an attempt to give Sol a good chance to solve it in safety, but in solution there would be no proof--or even in failure. For there was no way of telling proof from failure at many light-years of distance unless the failure bloomed the entire system into a nova.

  And regardless of any theoretical argument, it was still a technical impossibility to construct any spaceship capable of traversing light-years without some means of super speed. Not without a suitable crew to do a job when it arrived.

  Then, to reverse the argument, supposing that Barden's tale was correct. The opposing faction might hope to forestall any work by issuing the warning.

  But if Barden's tale were correct, why did the so-called altruists offer him a science that was dangerous to pursue?

  Unless, perhaps, the political argument was conquest versus dominance. Both factions wanted conquest and dominance. One demanded the elimination of all races that might offer trouble. The other faction might argue that a completely dead enemy offers no real reward for conquest--for of what use is it to become king when the throne is safe only when all subjects are dead?

  Yes, there's paranoia. The paranoid will either become king of all or king of none--or none will remain to be king, including himself. That theory is quite hard on rational people.

  So went the arguments, and when the ten days were completed, they were no closer to the truth than they had been before.

  Not entirely true. For they hoped to drive--somewhere--at a velocity higher than the speed of light.

  * * * *

  With a firm hand, Tom Barden pressed the start button. The relays clicked and the pilot lights flared red, and then, after the warm-up period they turned green.

  "This is it," he said, grasping the small lever that would start the automatic sequence.

  Silence--almost silence came. From one corner came a small muttering and the click of beads. A throat was cleared unnecessarily, for it, like all others, was both dry and clear. A foot shuffled nervously--

  "No!" shouted a voice.

  Barden looked at Edith Ward. "Still--?" he said.

  She nodded and put her hand over his on the lever. "Want me to prove it?" she said, pushing it home.

  There was a tinnily musical note that crept up the scale from somewhere in the sub-audible, up through the audible scale, and into the shrilling tones that hurt the ear. It was hard to really tell when it passed above the audible, for the imagination followed it for seconds after the ear ceased to function.

  There was a creak that rang throughout the ship. A tiny cricket-voice that came once and changed nothing but to increase the feel of tenseness.

  Then--nothing pertinent.

  Except--

  "Great Scott! Look at Sol!"

  The already-tiny sun was dwindling visibly; it took less than three or four seconds for Sol's disk to diminish from visible to complete ambiguity against the curtain of the stars.

  "We're in!" exploded Barden.

  "Hey!" screamed a watcher at the side port. A flare whisked by, illuminating the scene like a photoflash bulb. A second sun passed at planetary distance. It joined the starry background behind.

  Barden shut off the drive and the tense feeling stopped.

  "Well, we're in!" he said in elation. "We're in!"

  The scanning room went wild. They gave voice to their feelings in a yell of sheer exuberance, and then started pounding one another on the back. Barden chinned himself on a cross-brace and then grabbed Edith Ward about the waist and danced her in a whirling step across the floor.

  The crew caught up with them, separating them. They piled into Barden, ruffling his hair and rough-housing him until he went off his feet, after which someone produced a blanket and tossed him until the blanket ripped across. Then they carried him to the desk and set him unceremoniously across it, face down, and left him there to catch his breath.

  "Like New Year's Eve," he grunted.

  The crowd opened to let Edith through. She came toward the desk as Tom unraveled himself and sat on the top. "A fine bunch of wolves," she chuckled gleefully. "Tom, have you ever been kissed by twenty-two men?"

  "Wouldn't care for it," he said. "They're not my type. And besides, it's twenty-three." He made the correction himself.

  Then things calmed down. They were--as one man put it--"a long way from home!"

  "But what I want to know is why we can see the sun when we're going away from it at several times the velocity of light?" demanded Tom.

  "Well, your own problem answers your own question," said Edith, patting her hair back into place. "Remember the square wave problem?

  Well, in the transition period, you are simultaneously obtaining all degrees from maximum negative to maximum positive, including zero. Zero is where the ship, being out of space-warp, must drop below the speed of light. The sun receding is due to the persistence of vision that lasts between transition periods. Lord only knows how far we travel between each transition."

  "We can find out," said Tom. "I'd hoped to develop a velocimeter by using the doppler effect, but that's not possible, I guess. I'd suggest that we find out where we are, and then head back for Sol. Might as well get for home and start the real thing cooking."

  "What was that sun we passed?"

  "I'll not tell you now," said Tom. "One of the nearby stars, but I don't know which. We might stop, though, and take a closer look at an alien star from close up."

  * * * *

  The ship was turned and the drive was applied until the star expanded into a true sun. At about a billion miles, they stopped to inspect it sketchily. They were not equipped to make any careful observations of stellar data.

  They watched it, like sightseers viewing Niagara Falls, for an hour.

  There was really nothing to see that could not be taken in at a glance, but the idea of being near to one of the extrasolar systems was gratifying in itself.

  Then, as the realization that they could watch that silently blazing star for years without producing anything of interest or value, Barden called a halt to the self-hypnosis, and they resumed their stations. The drive was applied again, and they passed the star, picking up speed as they went.

  Somewhere ahead was Sol, lost in the starry curtain of the sky. But they were not lost, for they were headed in rou
ghly the right direction, and eventually Sol would emerge and stand out before them in plenty of time to correct their course.

  The entire group, their period of strain over, stood idly looking out the ports. There was nothing to see save that star, passing into the background. But their work was finished, and they were loafing. It looked like an excellent time to just stand and do nothing. Barden was inspecting the superdrive unit with a paternal smile, noting with some gratification that it was even smaller than the normal driving gear of the ship. Dr. Edith Ward had gone to her room to repair the damage done during the celebration.

  Jerry Brandt, the manual pilot, was sitting idly, playing a senseless game with the myriad of switches on his disconnected board as the autopilot controlled the ship.

  Two of the crew were matching pennies in front of the meter panel, and three more were watching a chess game between two of the others, who were using various-shaped radio tubes as men. All was set for a quiet journey home.

  Their first alien sun dwindled and was soon lost. Before them, the stars were immobile until one at near center swelled visibly. Jerry Brandt idly kicked his switches into neutral and switched over to manual drive long enough to correct the course; the swelling star and the rest of the sky swiveled about the ship until Sol was on the crosshairs.

  This time there were no days of flight from Terra to beyond-Pluto.

  Their ship plunged sunward at a dangerous pace, dropping below the speed of light at the tick of an instant at about the orbit of Jupiter. At under the speed of light, but far above the normal speeds of spacecraft, the ship headed Terraward, and slowed as it went. The superdrive was turned off a few thousand miles above Terra, and the rest of the voyage to the surface of the planet took actually longer than the quick run across interstellar space.

  They landed in the huge construction yard at the Barden Laboratories.

  A success--

  "Yeah," said Tom Barden dryly. "A success. But who did what to whom and why?"

  Edith Ward nodded in puzzlement. "You don't suppose it was just some nearby star wanting to observe a nova at close proximity?"

  "Seems to me that wouldn't tell 'em anything," said Barden. "That would be a completely artificial nova, and lacking of true data. Of course, I'm no astronomer and don't know beans about the subject at all. I admit it.