His actions were automatic responses to danger. Only after the words
were spoken did it occur to him that he had no interest in the survival
of Captain Browne. And that in fact the only reason the man was in
danger was because he had stepped away from his safety belt, so that
Mindel's blaster would kill Lesbee without damaging Browne.
Browne evidently understood his danger. He started toward the control
chair from which he had released himself only moments before. His
reaching hands were still a foot or more from it when the impact
of Acceleration One stopped him. He stood there trembling like a
man who had struck an invisible but palpable wall. The next instant
Acceleration Two caught him and thrust him on his back to the floor.
He began to slide toward the rear of the room, faster and faster, and
because he was quick and understanding he pressed the palms of his
hands and his rubber shoes hard against the floor and so tried to slow
the movement of his body.
Lesbee was picturing other people elsewhere in the ship desperately
trying to save themselves. He groaned, for the commander's failure was
probably being duplicated everywhere.
Even as he had that thought, Acceleration Three caught Browne. Like
a rock propelled by a catapult he shot toward the rear wall. It was
cushioned to protect human beings, and so it reacted like rubber,
bouncing him a little. But the stuff had only momentary resilience.
Acceleration Four pinned Browne halfway into the cushioned wall. From
its imprisoning depths, he managed a strangled yell.
"Lesbee, put a tractor beam on me! Save me! I'll make it up to you. I--"
Acceleration Five choked off the words.
The man's appeal brought momentary wonder to Lesbee. He was amazed that
Browne hoped for mercy ... after what had happened.
Browne's anguished words did produce one effect in him. They reminded
him that there was something he must do. He forced his hand and his
arm to the control board and focussed a tractor beam that firmly
captured Third Officer Mindel and the cameraman. His intense effort was
barely in time. Acceleration followed acceleration, making movement
impossible. The time between each surge of increased speed grew longer.
The slow minutes lengthened into what seemed an hour, then many hours.
Lesbee was held in his chair as if he were gripped by hands of steel.
His eyes felt glassy; his body had long since lost all feeling.
He noticed something.
The rate of acceleration was different from what the original Tellier
had prescribed long ago. The actual increase in forward pressure each
time was less.
He realized something else. For a long time, no thoughts had come from
the Karn.
* * * * *
Suddenly, he felt an odd shift in speed. A physical sensation of
slight, very slight, angular movement accompanied the maneuver.
Slowly, the metal-like bands let go of his body. The numb feeling was
replaced by the pricking as of thousands of tiny needles. Instead of
muscle-compressing acceleration there was only a steady pressure.
It was the pressure that he had in the past equated with gravity.
Lesbee stirred hopefully, and when he felt himself move, realized what
had happened. The artificial gravity had been shut off. Simultaneously,
the ship had made a half turn within its outer shell. The drive power
was now coming from below, a constant one gravity thrust.
At this late, late moment, he plunged his hand into the pocket which
held the remote control for the pilotless landing mechanism--and
activated it.
"That ought to turn on his thoughts," he told himself savagely.
But if Dzing was telepathing to his masters, it was no longer on the
human thought level. So Lesbee concluded unhappily.
The ether was silent.
He now grew aware of something more. The ship smelled different:
better, cleaner, purer.
Lesbee's gaze snapped over to the speed dials on the control board. The
figures registering there were unbelievable. They indicated that the
spaceship was traveling at a solid fraction of the speed of light.
Lesbee stared at the numbers incredulously. "We didn't have time!" he
thought. "How could we go so fast so quickly--in hours only to near the
speed of light!"
Sitting there, breathing hard, fighting to recover from the effects of
that prolonged speed-up, he felt the fantastic reality of the universe.
During all this slow century of flight through space, the _Hope of Man_
had had the potential for this vastly greater velocity.
He visualized the acceleration series so expertly programmed by Dzing
as having achieved a shift to a new state of matter in motion. The
"light speed effect," the Karn robot had called it.
"And Tellier missed it," he thought.
All those experiments the physicist had performed so painstakingly, and
left a record of, had missed the great discovery.
Missed it! And so a shipload of human beings had wandered for
generations through the black deeps of interstellar space.
* * * * *
Across the room Browne was climbing groggily to his feet. He muttered,
"... Better get back to ... control chair."
He had taken only a few uncertain steps when a realization seemed to
strike him. He looked up then, and stared wildly at Lesbee. "Oh!"
he said. The sound came from the gut level, a gasp of horrified
understanding.
As he slapped a complex of tractor beams on Browne, Lesbee said,
"That's right, you're looking at your enemy. Better start talking. We
haven't much time."
Browne was pale now. But his mouth had been left free and so he was
able to say huskily, "I did what any lawful government does in an
emergency. I dealt with treason summarily, taking time only to find out
what it consisted of."
Lesbee had had another thought, this time about Miller on the bridge.
Hastily, he swung Browne over in front of him. "Hand me your blaster,"
he said. "Stock first."
He freed the other's arm, so that he could reach into the holster and
take it out.
Lesbee felt a lot better when he had the weapon. But still another idea
had come to him. He said harshly, "I want to lift you over to the
cage, and I don't want First Officer Miller to interfere. Get that,
_Mister_ Miller!"
There was no answer from the screen.