Harcourt's eyes were glistening. 'That fellow, Tellier – his wife! Can I have her?'

'She's yours – after tomorrow,' said Gourdy, casually. 'Now, get!'

Harcourt got.

34

Surprisingly, Hewitt found a brief comradeship with Miller. The two men submerged any personal animosity they might otherwise have felt, in their mutual discovery of how to operate the matched-drive system.

They examined the almost magical alteration that Dzing had made in the giant Bev system for accelerating particles so that they actually expanded.

They were astounded by the simplicity of the method of particle removal by the process of tilting the antigravity plates.

By this means, the original method of maintaining a one-g antigravity could be amplified, theoretically, to any limit -hundreds, even thousands, of g's.

The discovery, though highly stimulating was also sobering; for there was now so much power that it had to be dealt with cautiously.

They carefully repeated Lesbee's earlier tests, bringing the acceleration gradually up to twelve g's while they balanced the antigravity at eleven g's. The perfection of it made their eyes glisten, and when the programming was complete, with acceleration set to continue at the one-g differential, they shook hands in the most friendly fashion.

Miller at this point announced that he had to report to Gourdy, and departed. Because of Harcourt, Hewitt did not leave tie security of the engine room at once. Something about the big brute – he had a morbid intuition.

As his first act of defense, he slipped a small wrench into one pocket. Then, while pretending to examine what was inside one of the panels that Lesbee had removed, he loosened from its socket and put into his other pocket a special tube... The gas in the tube was a rare, potent poison. If threatened, he could throw it on the floor at Harcourt's feet. At very least, the man would get a whiff. Hewitt would then have time to attack him with the wrench.

It was the best he could do under the circumstances.

As he headed back to the officer's cabin, which he had ostentatiously been assigned by Gourdy, Hewitt was aware of Harcourt following him... It was very disturbing in those silent, empty corridors.

So he stopped, finally, and waited for the man to catch up with him. When Harcourt's lumbering gait brought him close, Hewitt said, 'Why don't we walk together?'

The man mumbled something. But he offered no objection as Hewitt fell in step beside him. When they came to Hewitt's cabin, Hewitt unlocked the door, aware that the large man had paused also and was waiting.

He turned, and asked frankly, 'Is there anything I can do for you?'

Harcourt pretended open honesty. 'I'm supposed to keep an eye on you, Mr. Hewitt, and see that you don't get into or cause trouble. I'll be in the room across this hall with my door open. O.K.?'

It sounded O.K. But Hewitt entered his apartment with an unhappy feeling. The fact was he could not delay.

His mind seethed with schemes. But what he swiftly settled on was that he would simply get into his tank suit and drive down the corridor. If Harcourt fired a blaster at him, then he would run the man down.

The suit itself was built to withstand bullets or blasts from handarms.

The decision made, he started toward the spare bedroom, where he had the machine – and stopped!

A soft sound...! From his own bedroom!

Hewitt snatched for the wrench – then let his hand slide away as the woman, Ruth, appeared in the bedroom doorway. She put a finger to her lips, a cautioning gesture.

Quickly, she whispered to him what Ilsa had overheard: the plot to murder him. She ended her account. 'We had to choose. I chose you!'

Hewitt, whose mind had started to reach past what she had said, came reluctantly back to the woman, her words, her -choice!

He was embarrassed. With him, what had brought her here had been a move as in a game. Simply and forthrightly, he believed in monogamy. Her flushed cheeks and the shy way she avoided looking into his eyes told him that it was no game to her and the others.

The woman spoke again. 'I knew I would have to come here before Harcourt and you returned. So now you'll have to think of something to do with me... I brought this to help!'

She reached into a fold in her dress, produced a small blaster, and held it out to him. Hewitt took the weapon gratefully. The feel of it in his hand eased the awful chill of the murder plan she had described.

It also changed his own plan.

Quickly, he explained to her what he wanted her to do: hide in his bedroom, wait till Harcourt and he entered the adjoining bedroom, then slip out. 'Be sure,' Hewitt finished, 'to take off your shoes, so you can go silently -'

She started obediently for the bedroom door; then she stopped. Hesitantly, she faced him, said simply, 'Am I chosen?'

A lump came into Hewitt's throat. Gazing at her, he thought: 'Space did this to these women. The awful emptiness of space reduced them, gave them a sense of loss that made even the best of them vulnerable to total control.'

He divined that words were not enough in this situation. This woman needed to be touched. He stepped up to her, took one of her hands in his, and placed his other hand on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly. 'You are completely chosen!' he said softly.

The expression of relief that came into her fine-featured face was something to see. Abruptly, she was an accepted woman, calm, practical. 'I'd better go!' she said. She stared at him earnestly. 'You'll be all right?'

Hewitt released her hand. 'I'll do my best,' he said. 'I'll see you later.'

She whispered, "We're all waiting for you!' She turned and went into the bedroom, pushing the door almost shut-

Hewitt slipped the blaster in with the wrench, walked over, and opened the corridor door. He called across the hallway to where he could see Harcourt sitting in a chair just inside the open door of the apartment there, 'Will you come in here and give me a hand, Mr. Harcourt?'

The big man climbed to his feet and slouched to the door, stared insolently at Hewitt. 'What do you want?'

'I need a hand here with my machine.'

'Going some place?' Harcourt asked.

But he came over, looking puzzled and undecided. He was not a man who could easily change from one plan to another. At Hewitt's request, he walked into the spare bedroom.

'Hey!' he said, as he saw the blaster that Hewitt was pointing at him. His whole body stiffened. There was shock and horror in his face.

Slowly, he put up his hands.

Minutes later, Hewitt was guiding his tank suit along the corridor at its top speed. He was a man in a hurry.

35

In his excitement, Lesbee shook Tellier awake.

'Hey! I've figured out the true nature of the universe.'

The thin, intellectual face of his friend seemed to gain a little color. The pale, 'watery skin looked more alive. 'You've what?'

As Tellier sat up sleepily, Lesbee repeated his statement, adding: 'With what I've analyzed, we can do anything: land on Earth, retake the ship... anything.'

Tellier turned red. 'For God's sake, John,' he whispered, 'are you serious? You know what respect I have for your ideas when you tell me you mean them.'

'Listen – ' said Lesbee. 'First, the facts as we've seen them, or had them accurately described -'

He thereupon outlined the aspects of the long voyage related to the physics of space: the initial impossibility of accelerating particles to light velocity, the discovery through the Karn of the correct pattern -

He continued his summation: 'Hewitt's story of the Hope of Man arriving in the solar system in a special matter-state, which turned out to mean that the ship was traveling faster than light in some space of its own. Finally, as the ship reduced to light-speed, Hewitt was precipitated into the world of the ship -