Jon answered quickly. "I can illustrate, I think. Imagine a sheet of
paper, with a dot near either end. The normal way to connect them would
be a straight line drawn from one to the other--which is analogous to
the way we travel in space now. What Pop's talking about would be the
same as if we folded the paper so the two dots touched, and moved from
one to the other direct."
"That wouldn't be...."
"That's silly."
The two phrases came simultaneously from Jak and his mother.
"It's not silly, Honey. We merely haven't figured out how to do it yet.
But theoretical science knows that there are 'folds' in space. We just
haven't learned how to use them yet."
"No," Jak snorted, "and I'll bet you never do."
"And I'll bet they will," Jon blazed. "You just don't realize how
wonderful science is--in other lines than your own, I mean. You think
it's perfectly natural that medical science has made such tremendous
advances in the past couple of centuries. Why shouldn't other branches
make just as great strides?"
"Because the advances in medicine and surgery have been logical," his
brother began hotly, but their father interrupted.
"Whoa now, boys, don't get started on an endless argument. You're both
right--and both wrong. I'll admit that the three methods I mentioned
are pretty far-fetched. But after all, science is always doing the
unexpected and the impossible. There's no telling what they'll do
next--not even of telling what they may have done while we've been
gone."
"I'd read about that 'simultaneity' thing," Jon stated. "It was a
concept about being able to reproduce the exact nucleonic pattern of
some other space and thus being able to transfer to it instantly."
"Another idea is of a 'tube' or 'vortex' method of transversing space
at almost instantaneous speeds--and many other such," Mr. Carver
declared. "But it's a cinch none of us have brains enough to figure out
any of them before we reach Terra. And that Bogin's not using any of
them, either, since he's so apparently on a straight-line flight like
we are. He may have better engines, or better fuel, but to overtake us
like he is--now that I've stopped to think about it--can only be done
by using greater acceleration than we are, and for a longer time. So
while those other ideas are interesting conjectures, they won't help us
out of our present predicament."
"That's right, Pop." Jon wrenched his mind back to their immediate
problem. "We've got to figure out what we can do _right now_ to beat
Bogin."
They all lapsed into silence then, partly to think of their problem,
and partly because their personal energy was weakened by the tremendous
pressures they were undergoing.
Their new schedule was hard on them all--none of them were really
rested, even though they now slept or dozed most of the time. But
they were keeping more nearly ahead, although when Jon took his next
readings, Bogin's ship had crept up another third of a hundred million
miles.
"That means he'll catch up with and pass us in about eleven days, and
we're still almost twenty out of Terra." Jon could not entirely keep
the worry out of his voice.
During the noon respite, according to ship's time, they cut their
acceleration to one and a half, and Mrs. Carver prepared a hot meal,
and cold lunches for the balance of that day.
While they were eating, there in the control room, Jak suddenly looked
up at his father. "I just wondered, sir. How much pressure could a
person stand for long periods, if he was unconscious under some kind of
an anaesthetic?"
"Why," the elder hesitated, "I don't know exactly. I imagine around
five gravities or so, if it was to be for some time, especially if one
was in a pressure pack. Why do you ask?"
"I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I remembered reading about a
series of experiments a Swedish scientist has been making about putting
animals--even people--into an unconscious state. It's in one of my
reelbooks. Seems to me I remember its saying he has found he could keep
them there for several days at a time without any sign of permanent
harm."
"How'd he do it?" Jon dropped his fork to lean forward.
"With a drug he invented. Wait, I'll go get the book." Jak jumped up
from the table, but his mother's voice stopped him.
"We're not going to try anything like that," she said worriedly. "Not
even to beat Bogin."
Mr. Carver reached out from his recline seat to lay a hand soothingly
on his wife's. "Wait, now, Marci, let's find out first what this is
all about. Maybe the boy has something, maybe not. But let's examine it
before we decide, shall we?"
Her eyes still held the worried look, but she returned the pressure of
his hand. "Well, I guess there's no harm in that, Mr. C. But I just
don't like taking dangerous chances, that's all."
He smiled at her fondly. "Pioneers always have to take chances, Honey,"
he said gently. "Men would never have gotten anywhere if they hadn't.
But we'll make sure we know all about what we're getting into before we
leap, you can bet."
"Besides," Jon tried to reassure her, "even if this stuff would work,
Owl hasn't any of that new drug, so we couldn't try it, much as we
might want to."
"Oh, that's right. I hadn't thought of that." She smiled with relief.
In a moment Jak came running back with a reelbook. "Here it is. Let's
see now." He rapidly scanned through the reel with his finder. "Ah,
here it is!"
He read aloud rapidly, and the three listened intently.
"So you see," Jak raised his head triumphantly when he had finished
reading, "it's perfectly possible to put us to sleep for a week at a
time. And you said the ship was fully automatic," he turned to Jon, "so
it doesn't need guiding, and would keep on its course whether we were
awake or not."
"Well, it's way past our two hours." Mr. Carver spoke up hastily to
prevent his wife from saying anything. "Time we were getting back into
stepped-up acceleration again. Strap down, and we can study this later."
"I still don't like the idea," Mrs. Carver said as the four made
themselves as comfortable as possible in the recline seats before Jon
turned on more acceleration.
14
During the next two or three "waking periods" Jak busied himself
studying his reeltext, but this was such a common sight it attracted no
special attention. Nor did the others notice that he began disappearing
into the ship's storeroom each "up" period, and had to be called
repeatedly when the meal was ready, or it was time to strap down again.
He said nothing of what he was doing, nor did any of the others think
to ask, for the boys were customarily here and there about the ship,
busy at their many tasks and activities.
But at the start of one "up" period Jak went at once to the storeroom
and workshop, and when he came back to the table set in the control
room he showed his family a large corked test tube filled with a
colorless liquid.
"I've got it!" he exclaimed, his eyes shining. "I found all the
ingredients needed in our stores and my medical kit, and made up a
batch of the cataleptic fluid. We inject four cc's in each of us
and...."
"What're you talking about?" Jon demanded.
"The stuff to make us unconscious so we can stand five G's of
acceleration." Jak looked up in hurt surprise. "What we were talking
about the other...."
"I thought we were going to forget that nonsense," his mother said
sharply.
"Wait, now, Marci, let's hear what the boy has," her husband said
gently. Then, "Go ahead, Jak, tell us more about this."
"This medicine, injected into our blood streams, puts us into suspended
animation for several days, depending on how much of the fluid we use.
We first take an injection of glucose and other nutrients, of course,
then this stuff puts us into deep sleep--slows our metabolism. You said
in such a state we could stand much heavier acceleration, Father. Then
with this we can beat Bogin."
"What sort of shape will it leave us in?" his father almost raised up
in interest, and held up his hand when his wife would have broken in.
"Are there any after-effects?"
"The book says the doctor never discovered any, especially after he
started giving people the nutrient injections first. He has had people
under for as much as two weeks. Four cc's will act for about five days,
so I thought we could use that much the first time, at least."
"Five G's would certainly put us 'way ahead of Bogin's ship." Jon
had jumped up from the table and had been working swiftly with the
computer. "Two such five-day periods--three more days on positive
acceleration, then seven on negative--ought to give us a controllable
velocity somewhere near Sol. We'd have to compute it more exactly, of
course, before we take each shot."
Mr. Carver thought slowly and intently, then spoke decisively. "I
believe that this is our best bet, if it's sure. We certainly want to
get back first, if possible, and according to our present routine,
which is all we can stand as we are, Bogin can beat us in. Besides,
he will undoubtedly shoot down the _Star Rover_ if he catches up with
it--and you know what would happen to us!"
"Yes, when I checked today he was only about two hundred million
behind."
"Let's try it!" Jak was all eagerness.
"Take it easy, Son. We've got to talk and study this a lot first."
Mr. Carver then turned to his wife, who had sunk back into her seat,
biting her lips to keep from crying out, her hands clenched tightly.
"Well make as sure as we possibly can before we decide to do anything,
Honey, but don't you see the advantage of this if it will work? We must
get to Terra first if we can, and this seems to be the only way we know
of doing it."
"I see that," she said with a sigh of resignation, "and I know you'll
know what you're doing before you do it."
"We sure will." Then Mr. Carver turned back to Jak. "Tell us again all
about this stuff, and what the book says."
Jak talked rapidly but concisely for nearly five minutes. Afterwards he
showed his father the reel, and his table of components of the mixture.
Mr. Carver studied the book carefully for some time, and minutely
compared the formula as given there with the one Jak had used. Then he
lay back and thought with intense concentration for nearly a quarter of
an hour. Finally he raised his head with determination.
"I think we should try it. It seems safe, from all the evidence here. I
have faith enough in Jak's ability to trust him to have made the fluid
correctly--his formula checks exactly with the one in the reels. And if
it works, we can win out."
Jon rose purposefully. "Right, Pop. Come on, Jak, let's break out the
pressure packs and get them hung."
They went into the storeroom, and soon came back, each staggering under
the weight and inconvenience of two packs. These they hung from the
bulkhead hooks built into the ship for just that purpose, and made sure
they were securely anchored.
"How much time after the injection before we blank out, Owl?" Jon asked
then.
"A minute or so, I guess. Why?"
"Figuring how long I'll have to handle the controls. A minute is plenty
of time, as I can have everything set up, and only have one switch to
throw."
Mr. Carver reached out a hand and patted his wife's cheek as she stood
by his side. "It's going to work out all right, Honey." His voice was
bright and assured. "These boys of ours are really up on their stuff."
"Yes," she agreed. "I know they know what they are doing, and that you
are checking them carefully. It is mainly my not knowing that makes me
afraid sometimes." She gave him a lopsided smile. "I hate being the
weak member of the party."
"You're nothing of the kind!" He grinned as the boys murmured protests
which meant the same thing. "You're the best fellow in the gang." And
he blew her a kiss as the boys helped him into his pack and saw to it
that he was securely and comfortably strapped in. Then they did the
same for their mother.
Jak went to his room and came back quickly with his hypodermic needles,
and the bottles of glucose and concentrates. He put these beside the
test tube with the new fluid.
Carefully he administered the dosage of nutrients to the other three,
then lay down on his recline seat and gave himself his own dose. He
rested there for a couple of minutes, then rose. Carefully he drew
four cubic centimeters of the new, clear fluid into his needle, then
approached his mother. "Ready?" he asked, smiling, but with tight lips.
She pushed up her left sleeve. "Ready, Son." And now her voice was soft
but steady.
He tipped the needle into the light, carefully expelled a couple of
drops to make sure all air was out of the tube. Then quickly and with
a sureness he had trouble making his hands achieve, he pushed the slim
needle into her arm, and injected the drug. With the ball of his thumb
he rubbed the puncture gently for a moment. "Sleep tight, Mother." He
smiled and leaned down to kiss her.
"Who's next?" He turned to the others.
"Me, of course." His father bared his arm. "Jon has to be awake last to
handle the controls."
Again Jak filled his needle, and as carefully as before he injected
the sleeping drug into his father. Then he stepped up to the pilot's
pressure pack where his younger brother was adjusting the controls.
"Ready, Jon?"
"Just a sec." The boy was still working, pushing in a button there,
turning a switch here, stopping to tighten a wire or connection
somewhere else. But in a few moments he had finished, and then rested
his right hand on the handle of the master switch, ready to push it
into contact.
But just as Jak brought the needle close to his arm the younger boy
pushed it away. "Wait now, Jak. How about you? Can you make it to your
pack and get in and strapped down and settled, and then give yourself
the shot before I throw the switch and the five G's take effect?"
"Don't worry about me," his brother said gruffly. "I'll make out some
way."
"Not good enough," Jon said positively. "Let's figure this down to
seconds. If I don't close the switch before I black out, all this'll
be wasted. How about if you inject yourself first? Will you have time
enough to give me my shot and then get back into your pack and strap
down before you go under?"
Jak thought swiftly a moment. "Your point's well taken, Jon, but you
didn't figure it right. Your way, I'd have to give you your injection
besides doing all the rest in the same length of time. If I give you
yours first, I can get into my pack and give myself mine there. You
merely stay awake until I'm done."
"Yes, guess you're right. But fix your pack so you can be sure of
getting in without any trouble."
Jak did this, then came back, filled the needle and injected it into
Jon's arm.
Swiftly then he ran to his own pack, climbed in and fastened the
straps. He filled the needle, plunged it into his arm, and pushed home
the plunger.
Jon had been watching his brother, forcing back the drowsiness that
sought to engulf him. As he saw Jak's nod that all was done, he turned
to his panel. A quick glance about his board with his fast-diminishing
senses told him everything was on the green. With his last measure of
consciousness, he rammed home the switch.
He settled back into a more comfortable position, and felt himself
plunging down into the blackness of unconsciousness.
* * * * *
Jon felt himself coming awake, and his first, startled thought was,
"Didn't the stuff work?"
He began to open his eyes ... and noticed at once how stiff his eyelids
felt, but he forced them open. He looked at the date-clock and smiled
with relief. The five days and several hours had passed, seemingly in
an instant.
Now almost fully awake, his eyes sought the various meters, dials,
gauges and telltales on his panel. Everything seemed to be working
properly. He tuned in his receptor, and applied greater and still
greater power. Space behind was blank of atomics.
Smiling thankfully and beginning to unloosen his straps, Jon now
noticed how dry his mouth was, and that his skin felt dry, too, and
feverish. But he had no headache, and his thoughts seemed to be
functioning as clearly and swiftly as always.
"Boy, I sure need a bath and drink, and something to eat!" he
thought--then realized that the others would be feeling the same way.
The others! He turned quickly to look at them. They were all still
lying in their packs, somewhat pale, but with a peaceful, unstrained
look on their faces.
Jon tried to rise, but reeled back and almost fell as he got onto his
feet. He held himself erect a moment, and gradually felt a measure of
strength returning.
As soon as he could, he went into the galley. Quickly he prepared a cup
of instant broth, and drank it gratefully. Much refreshed, he made more
of the consomme, and further enriched it with some anti-fatigue pills
dissolved in the steaming liquid. He set four cups of it on a tray and
carried them into the control room. His first quick glance showed the
others beginning to stir.
"Morning, folks," he called cheerily. "Soup's on."
They opened their eyes slowly, almost uncomprehendingly, but awareness
came quickly, and his mother and brother sat up and fumbled at their
straps.
"Did we make it?" his father called anxiously. But Jak noticed at once
how weak his father's voice sounded, and went across to his side.
"We sure did." Jon smiled broadly. "We were out just a little over
five days, and the receptors don't show a thing behind. I woke up
just a few minutes ahead of you, and that's one of the first things I
looked at. Then I found I was weak and dry, so I went out and made this
broth." He passed the cups and, as the others drank gratefully, Jon
spoke again.
"I've got to hand it to you, Owl. You sure fixed us fine this time."
"He certainly did." Mr. Carver spoke as forcefully as he could, having
already privately warned Jak to say nothing of his weakened condition.
He looked solicitously over at his wife. "You all right, Marci?"
"Yes, I feel fine, now that I've had this good consomme Jon was so
thoughtful as to make." She smiled with real relief that they had all
come through this dangerous experiment so successfully.