A. Van Vogt - Rogue Ship

It was as he was turning a corner, from which he could actually see – dimly – the distant airlock, that he felt his first nausea. He had no idea what might happen. But it occurred to him that he should slow down.

He applied the brake. He was aware of the tank suit rolling to a stop. And then -

Something grabbed his body from behind and squeezed it mercilessly. The sensation of being caught by a giant hand was so realistic that he squirmed to release himself from its clutch.

The great hand began to slip. He had the feeling then of being squirted from a space that was too small for him, into something – vast.

That was the last thing he remembered as blackness closed over him.

Something hit Lesbee.

It hit him deep inside first, then not so deep, then all over.

The progression from impact to anguish to agony to unbearable pain was rapid. But he felt every excruciating moment of it.

He must have been in a dreamlike state – though this time he had no fantasies – because he came to suddenly, with the realization that the ship had made the transition. And from the feel of deceleration, they were continuing to slow down.

Trembling, Lesbee thought, 'We made it!'

...Beyond light-speed and back again! Out of normal space time and return.

Without looking down, Lesbee unfastened his belt and stood up. He was so intent on the bank of instruments, that Hewitt's letter fell from his lap, unnoticed. Utterly fascinated by the drama of the dials, he walked slowly forward.

Behind him, Harcourt said, 'Hey, what's this?'

Lesbee glanced around. What he saw made no sense. Harcourt was reading what looked like a letter.

Once more, Lesbee faced about and studied the instrument board.

When Hewitt opened his eyes after his blackout, he saw that his tank suit had tilted over against one wall. Exactly how that had come about was not clear.

He had an impression that something else was different -but there was no time to notice what it was.

There was a fear in him that his vehicle might tip. He grabbed hastily at the controls, put on the power, and slowly eased off the brake. The suit rolled closer to the wall, then settled back on all four wheels.

Hewitt breathed easier, thought, 'We must have crossed light-speed without too much problem. It was pretty painful, but it apparently didn't do me any harm.'

The thought ended. He felt his eyes grow large and round. He gazed wildly at the corridor. It was brightly lighted. The dim, eerie, shadowy effect was gone as if it had never been. He noticed something else. The corridor was not narrow any more. He couldn't tell exactly, but he estimated that it was back to its full width, as it had originally been constructed. Then and there the truth dawned on Hewitt.

He was no longer an observer of this scene. He was part of it. He also would now appear lopsided to another person coming aboard from the Molly D. To himself, and to those aboard the ship, he would be quite normal. People affected by the Lorentz-Fitzgerald phenomenon were not aware of any difference in themselves. The contraction affected their bodies as well as their frame of reference. Nothing was actually distorted with respect to it.

Hewitt remembered the sensation of being squeezed. Readjustments within his body, he analyzed, were unevenly distributed during the change. His front changing faster than his back.

The memory of the pain was suddenly sharper. He shuddered.

Then he thought: 'I wonder where we are.'

A minute or two had gone by on the Hope of Man, since his return to consciousness. On the Molly D, that alone was sixteen to thirty hours. But Hewitt knew that the contraction phenomenon at light-speed might have a few more surprises for him.

Years may have whisked by outside.

If that were true, then the Hope of Man might, by this time, have proceeded light-years from the solar system.

Hewitt grew calm and cool and grim. It occurred to him that he had accidentally achieved the position he had wanted to be in ever since he was first informed of the ship's return.

From the beginning, his purpose had been to get aboard and persuade a shipload of people to start again on the long journey to the Centaurus suns.

Or, if persuasion failed, to force them. Or trick them -

It felt a little odd; he had a peculiar empty sense that he did not have enough control of this situation. But here he was.

On the wall beside Hewitt, a man's voice said from a loudspeaker: 'Attention, everyone! This is Captain Gourdy. I have just been informed by Mr. Lesbee from the engine room, that deceleration will continue at one g until further notice. You may remove your safety belts.'

Incredibly, tears started to Hewitt's eyes. He realized almost immediately what it was. After all the strangeness, now suddenly there was the sound of a human voice. More important, it gave a normal message and it mentioned a familiar name.

'... Mr. Lesbee from the engine room... '

Lesbee!... Hewitt recalled the two men who had been in the engine room – each had looked at least thirty. It provided another perspective on the time that had elapsed since the round ship's original departure from Earth.

What was more important, the words identified, and located, a specific person to whom he might talk. Hewitt felt an intense excitement. Eagerly, he turned his machine around and headed back toward the engine room, from which he had fled only – minutes – ago.

A few moments later, he rounded a corner – and brought his mobile suit to an abrupt halt.

For a man was in the act of emerging from one of the middle-level cabins. He stepped out into the corridor, closed the door behind him, and then turned. He saw Hewitt.

It must have been an instantaneous strange sight for him. He stiffened. Hewitt rolled his machine forward, and said through his speaker, 'Don't be afraid!'

The man simply stood there, a blank look on his face.

Hewitt said, 'While your ship was traveling faster than light, it passed through the solar system. I was put aboard from an Earth warship. I'm the owner of the Hope of Man. My name is Averill Hewitt.'

His statement was not factual in all details. But it was what he would have liked to be true, particularly the part about the warship, with its implication of powerful forces standing by.

If the man heard him, it did not show. There was a blank look in his eyes, a paleness in his thin cheeks.

Hewitt said gently, 'What's your name?'

No answer.

Hewitt recognized shock when he saw it. 'Hey,' he said sharply. 'Snap out of it! What's your name?'

The sharp, penetrating tones did the job. 'Earth,' the man croaked. 'You're from Earth!'

'I was put aboard from an Earth battleship,' said Hewitt. 'Now, tell me – what's been going on aboard the Hope of Man? What is going on?'

It was hard to get the information. The man seemed not to grasp how little Hewitt knew. But his name was Lee Winance, and Hewitt learned from him a part of the ship's history. About how much time had elapsed. About Lesbee's and then Gourdy's seizure of power. These were recent realities to Winance.

Hewitt was even able to piece together something of the social conditions aboard: the multiwife situation among the officers and – until Gourdy's rebellion – the permanent caste system.

The information made the problem so much more complex that presently Hewitt sat and stared at the man helplessly.

He thought: 'Five generations!'

These people were complete strangers to Earth.

As Hewitt sat there, bemused, Winance abruptly darted past him and raced off around the corner and along the corridor from which he had come a few minutes before. Hewitt rolled his machine back and called after the fleeing figure.