“Hmm …. No, I’ll accept the report of my department heads. Jake, can you write equations covering a picnic basket that refills itself? Will it go on doing so?”
“Yes to the first, Captain; equations can be written to describe anything. To the second, I have no data; we’ll have to wait and see. But the mathematical description would be simpler for a picnic basket that replenishes itself indefinitely then for one that does it once and then stops—I would have to describe the discontinuity. But I am no longer troubled by natural—or ‘unnatural’—laws that don’t apply here in Universe-Zero.”
“Sharpie, your earlier answer recommended that we complete the rotations.”
“No, Cap’n Bligh. I simply pointed out that the first twelve had not been unprofitable. I might add that we could have completed the last three by now, had we not spent time debating it.”
“Hilda honey, your cowardly captain needed that time to get his nerve back. My yumpin’ Yiminy, once we settle down, all three of you are going to practice handling this craft. Then we’ll elect a new skipper.”
“We would simply re-elect you, Zeb. Each of us will go on doing what he or she can do best.”
“ ‘Time is out of joint. O cursèd spite, that I was ever picked to set it right.’ ”
“You misquoted.”
“I always do. What sort of universe do we wind up in next, Hilda?”
“Cap’n, we have three more to complete Jacob’s schedule, and I have four more on the list of highest probability. One of them is utterly useless to us—we couldn’t stay—but amusing and safe. The other three are possible places to live but each has its own dangers. If I tell you and Jacob—or even Deety, it might affect the outcome and we might miss the one we need most. As the chief of surgery back on campus used to say: ‘I dunno, let’s operate and find out.’ ”
I sighed. “All hands, stand by to rotate. Report.”
“Strapped down, Cap’n Bligh honey.”
“Copilot.”
“Rotation still set. This group is around t-axis with the usual ninety-degree displacements. h and w are null; teh, tau, and l are spatial axes this time, but the group is only two, as the remaining three rotations duplicate earlier ones, one for each earlier group.”
“Jacob, how do you keep track of that?”
“A check-off list.”
“No, dear; how do you understand it?”
“I don’t. But this is what our six-dimensional equations call for. So far, it has worked. Hilda, my love, once a scientist thinks he understands a process, his mind begins to ossify.”
“Stand by; execute!”
Green fire—“Rotate! Execute!”
A formless red fog—“Rotate! Execute!”
We came out in a starry universe.
“Captain, these constellations look familiar—don’t you think?”
“I think so.”
“They are familiar,” Hilda asserted. “Except that there is one bright star near the Gemini that doesn’t belong there. So that ought to be our own Sun. We’re way out past Pluto, where the comets spend the winter. Let’s move in closer and find Earth.”
“Don’t be in such a hurry, Science Officer. What was that first rotation? Green fire?”
“Would you settle for the deadly green nebula in The Legion of Space? It was on the way to the Runaway Star where Aladoree had been taken after she was kidnapped.”
“That was on your list?”
“All four of us voted for it. Three of us voted for the three stories as a group; you voted specifically for the first story.”
“Sharpie, I never had a chance to read the other two. How about that red fog we rotated into?”
“That one is a little harder to figure. It could be any space-opera universe, especially one by any writer that pays respectful attention to astronomy—Clement, Anderson, and so forth. But there were two votes for Niven’s ‘Known Space’ and two for The Mote in God’s Eye. I lumped them together as four. But whether the old gentleman had anything to do with it or not, I think we blundered into a red giant star … and got out again before it mattered. After all, a red giant isn’t mass, exactly—it’s closer to what we call vacuum. Anyhow, we weren’t hurt; we were there about two seconds.”
“Less than that, beloved; I set it with one click, and barely had my thumb off the ‘execute’ button. Captain, do you wish to transit toward that bright star? Or shall I check its spectral signature first?”
“Let’s chop off thirty or forty AUs—with some careful ‘Tennessee windage’—and get a rough cross-fix. Maybe that will give us a disc I can measure. If not, we’ll narrow it down until it does show a disc. I’ll measure it and you can place us one AU from the Sun—not necessarily in the ecliptic but anywhere on the sphere from which the Sun subtends half a degree. From there we’ll be able to see Earth easily. After which we play by ear. Copilot? Advice.”
“No problem, Captain. But I suggest that you make that offset wide. Say fifteen degrees. When we did it to reach Mars, it was sufficient simply to miss it. With the Sun, I would want to be sure that we were more than one AU.”
“Jake, you are so right! I don’t want to fry my eyeballs. All hands, when I measure the Sun’s angular width, everybody duck down out of direct sunlight and don’t look.”
“Zebadiah, you’ll blind yourself!”
“Deety darling, the gunsight has a built-in polarizer. Didn’t I show it to you?”
“Nossir, you did not. You be careful.”
“Hon, I’ll start with the polarizer fully crossed, then open it carefully. Promise.”
“Spacecraft! Identify yourself.”
That made me jerk with surprise. “Who said that?”
“Lensman Ted Smith, Lieutenant Galactic Patrol, Entity, commanding Patrol Vessel Nighthawk. I regret being forced to enter your mind, but you have been ignoring sub-ether radio for seven minutes thirty-two seconds. Switch it on and I will get out of your mind. Do not maneuver: we have weapons trained on you.”
“Captain,” Jake whispered, “I’ve set to rotate.”
“Don’t do it, Jake. Lensman, we don’t have sub-ether radio. This is Continua Craft Gay Deceiver, Captain Zeb Carter speaking. Do you read me?”
“I read you loud and clear. What happened to your sub-ether radio? Do you need help?”
“Captain Smith, I don’t know what sub-ether radio is. No, I don’t think we need help … but we could use some astrogational advice. Where are we?”
“For the moment, the important point is that you are in my patrol sector. You are an unscheduled ship insufficiently identified. I repeat: DO NOT MANEUVER. By order of the Galactic Patrol. Do you understand?”
“Roger Wilco, Lensman. I regret having intruded into your patrol space. This is a private ship engaged in peaceful exploration.”
“That is what I am about to determine, Captain. Stay where you are and make no hostile moves and you will be safe.”
“Uh, Lensman, can you see through my eyes?”
“Are you inviting me to do so?”
“Certainly. Use my eyes, use my ears. But don’t try to take over my mind or this ship will disappear.” I squeezed my copilot’s knee; Jake kept his thumb on the ‘execute’ button.
“I warned you not to maneuver. Ah … interesting.”
Hilda snapped, “Lieutenant, quit threatening us! A Lensman is supposed to be an officer and a gentleman! I intend to report you to Prime Base! To the Port Admiral himself. You’re an oaf!”
“Sorry, madam. I do not wish to offend but I have duty to perform. Captain, will you please turn your head so that I can see who is speaking?”
“Certainly. But let me introduce all of them. On my right”—I looked at Jake—“is Dr. Jacob Burroughs.” (I intentionally omitted “copilot.”) “Behind him”—I then looked at Hilda—“is his wife, Dr. Hilda Burroughs, xenobiologist and chief of science … and let me offer you this advice, Lensman: it is never safe to offend Dr. Hilda.”
“I gathered
that impression, Captain. Madam, I would not willingly offend—but I have duties. Shall I get out of your mind entirely? If you speak to me, I will hear with Captain Carter’s ears. He can, if he will, repeat to you any thought in answer.”
“Oh, I suppose it’s all right just in conversation. But don’t go any deeper into my mind! Mentor would not like it—as you know quite well!”
“Dr. Hilda, your mention of … a certain entity … surprises me—from one who is not a Lensman.”
“I don’t need a Lens. You can check that with Arisia.”
I said hastily, “Shall we get on with the introductions? Directly behind me:”—I loosened my belt and twisted to look at Deety—“is my wife, Dr. D. T. Carter, general symbologist and astrogator. Lensman, are you now satisfied that we are a peaceful party of scientists? Or is there something more that you wish to know?”
“Captain, I can see that this ship is not a pirate vessel—unarmed and unarmored. Oh, I noted the controls for a coherent light gun but that wouldn’t be much use to a pirate. Nor can I visualize two men and two women attempting to attack a space liner. But that is just one of my responsibilities. This ship, small as it is, could be carrying millions of credits in contraband.”
“Say what you mean, Lensman,” snapped Hilda. “Drugs. But don’t use the word zwilnik.”
They could all hear his sigh, mentally. “Yes, Dr. Hilda—drugs. But I did not introduce that offensive word into the discussion.”
“I heard you thinking it. Don’t do it again.”
“Lensman,” I intervened, “we have a few medical drugs aboard. The only one you could be interested in is a few milligrams of morphine in our medical kit, for emergencies. Dr. Hilda is also our medical officer and is qualified to administer it prudently—and so am I. As a command pilot I am a qualified paramedic. But we carry no thionite, no bentlam, no hadive, no nitrolabe. You are using your Lens; you know that I am telling the truth.”
“Captain, it’s not that easy. Before I first hailed you I did try a slight probe—please, Dr. Burroughs; it was in line of duty! I don’t think I’ve ever encountered four minds so fully blocked. And this is a most curious craft. It is obviously designed for aerodynamic use rather than for space. Yet here you are, where you have no business to be—and I can’t see how you got here. I’m afraid I have no choice but to detain you … and examine this ship thoroughly. Take it apart piece by piece, if necessary.”
“Lensman,” I said earnestly, “don’t be hasty. Use your Lens. You can search this vessel much more thoroughly by Lens than any other way. Go ahead. We’ve nothing to hide … and we have a great deal to offer the Galactic Patrol. But you won’t get it by pushing us around.”
“You certainly won’t! Cap’n, let us leave! I’m tired of stupidity!”
“Wait a half, Dr. Hilda—please! Use your Lens, Captain Smith. Search us with it.”
“I am forced to say that I can’t.”
“You don’t know how? Klono’s brass whiskers! What are you doing on patrol? Get in touch with someone who can use a Lens properly. Kinnison, Worsel, Tregonsee. Someone competent.”
The Lensman’s thought was as stiff as if he had spoken aloud. “I am not a Second Stage Lensman, I am not even unattached. An officer of my rank does not disturb Second Stage Lensmen with minor patrol problems. Remain where you are, do not maneuver. We will match your intrinsic and take you into our cargo hold. It will be necessary to sweep back your wings; please do that now. Nothing else.”
“Wait a half! In the first place, you can’t. Not unless I choose to let you. How do you think we got here? Mull that over, Lensman! I want to show our means to Sir Austin Cardynge … and give it to the Patrol. If you won’t help, we’ll go to Prime Base without your permission. While Dr. Hilda is giving a full report of this encounter with you to the Port Admiral, Dr. Burroughs and I will show Sir Austin what we have that can benefit the Patrol enormously. But we aren’t going anywhere as your prisoners, Lensman—put that in your pipe and smoke it!”
“I have placed a tractor beam on you. Don’t fight it.”
“GayBounce GayBounce GayBounce GayBounce GayBounce GayBounce! Lensman, have you found us again? Come in, Lensman Ted Smith; come in Lensman Ted Smith ….”
“I’ve located you again. What did you do?”
“I’ll tell Sir Austin; you wouldn’t understand it. I purposely did not go far, so that you could find me again. But touch us once more with one of your damned beams and I’ll go so far and fast that you’ll never find me! Until Prime Base calls you in to find out why you botched this contact. Will you agree not to use beams or weapons while we talk like civilized people? Or do you want another game of tiddlywinks? Make up your mind!”
The Lensman appeared to take a moment to think it over. “I suggest that we each take no action while we confer.”
“No weapons? No beams?”
“No weapons, no beams, no mental reservations.”
“And no mental reservations on my part, Lensman. Flag of truce while we powwow. Agreed?”
“I agree, Captain Carter.”
“Thank you, sir. You have Bergenholms for inertialess drive; that makes the Nighthawk very fast. Correct?”
“Quite fast—correct.”
“Limited only by the power of your drive and the amount of mass in so-called empty space, I believe.”
“I can’t discuss the capabilities of my ship, Captain. Classified information.”
“That’s okay because I can discuss the capabilities of mine. They aren’t classified but I prefer to give them to the Galactic Patrol rather than let them become public knowledge—for Boskone to use, for example.”
I felt the Lensman’s emotional reaction, instantly quenched and followed up at once. “I hulled you with that—sorry. I simply want you to know that we must be taken seriously. The Nighthawk is fast; Gay Deceiver is enormously faster. Unthinkably faster. You saw how quickly I broke your tractor beam and went elsewhere. Is a second demonstration necessary?”
“Not at the moment. Perhaps later.”
“As you wish, Lensman. We are going to Prime Base. We can do it any of three ways. With your friendly advice in astrogation and with your sub-ether or Lens message to the Port Admiral that we are coming. Or we can end this powwow, leaving you free to capture us or blow us out of space—doesn’t matter which because you can’t do either—and we will go to Prime Base unassisted. But a third way is what I recommend. Take us and our car into your ship as guests. With your word as a Lensman that we and our car may leave freely at any time and that you will not resume hostilities—correction: police action, with respect to us—until we are out of your ship. Do it that way and I will let you inspect our vessel. You yourself, I mean—not thumb-fingered mechanics who might damage equipment they don’t understand. You will see that we have techniques useful to the Patrol … and it will be to your credit that you recognized their value and brought them in.”
“A Lensman does not seek credit, Captain; he carries out his duty.”
“True. But when the Port Admiral pats you on the back, I don’t think you’ll spit in his face.”
I could feel Ted Smith’s wry amusement. “No, I don’t think I would.”
“I would like to see you get that pat on the back; you strike me as a man doing your best in unique circumstances. I would rather not have Dr. Hilda reporting you to the Port Admiral; she eats cateagles for breakfast. Well? Shall we do it the friendly way? Or shall we leave while you try to stop us? Take plenty of time to make up your mind. Ten seconds isn’t too long; I’m patient.”
Smith took three seconds. “Let’s do it the friendly way.”
“Good. Spell it out, please.”
“Captain Carter, on behalf of the Galactic Patrol and by authority vested in me as a Patrol ship’s master in space, I invite you and your companions—especially Dr. Hilda who eats cateagles—with your ship, into my ship as guests. You and your ship may leave at any time and no Patrol action will be taken with respect
to your ship until you are clear of my ship. At least as far apart as we are now. Is that fair?”
“Sounds fair to me. How far apart are we?”
“Slightly over a billion miles. Do you want that in kilometers? I note that your instruments are scaled in kilometers.”
“Immaterial, we understand both scales. Are you free or inert? And what is your orientation, Lensman?”
“We are inert but will approach free, then I will inert again and we will match your intrinsic and take you inside. The three maneuvers will take less than an hour.”
“Wait a half, Lensman! That takes you off station, wastes an hour, and wastes power. As the Nighthawk must be huge compared with us. I can do it much faster and without wasting power—if you will supply astrogational data.”
“What data do you need, Captain?”
“Your intrinsic and your …. No, I have a suggestion. You are using my eyes; would you like to conn my ship? Then you would gain some feeling for what Gay Deceiver can do. We’re giving the techniques to the Patrol in any case; you can, if you wish, be the first Patrol officer to handle this type of ship. Does that appeal to you?”
I saw that we all felt the Lensman’s burst of pleasure and professional eagerness. “Yes, Captain! I’ve turned the conn over to my astrogator. How do we do this?”
“Which do you want to do first, Lensman Smith? Match intrinsic? Or approach your ship?”
“Ordinarily we approach, then match. But if you can reverse that order, the vector problem is simpler. Can you?”
“Certainly. Use my eyes to coach my hands. Don’t try to control my hands.”
“I can’t control your hands, Captain, and would not if I could. I have only recently learned to see through another entity’s eyes via the Lens—a special tutoring class under a Gray Lensman.”
“The Gray Lensman?”
“No, no! Not a Second Stage. Dr. Jerry Doheny, a psychologist. Shall we begin?”
The Pursuit of the Pankera: A Parallel Novel About Parallel Universes Page 45