James Hogan - Entoverse

The starship manufactured its own internal gravity, creating “up,” “down,” and transitions between in whatever direction suited the purpose from place to place. The result was an Escherian confusion of corridors, shafts, intersecting planes and spaces, and surfaces that served as walls here, floors there, and elsewhere curved to transform from one into another. What had previously been below could unexpectedly appear overhead without one’s experiencing any sense of having rotated, and through it all, streams of Ganymeans were being carried along in open conveyor shafts on directed g-field currents-rather like invisible elevators traversing the ship in all directions. Hunt and Danchekker had seen this kind of thing before, but the others around them were stopping and staring in bewilderment.

“Well, Chris, here we go again,” Hunt said, looking around. “But this will be a darn sight quicker than last time.”

“And a bit more comfortable when we get there, too,” Sandy Holmes murmured in a slightly dazed voice as she struggled to take it all in. She had been with them on the UNSA Jupiter Five mission. When they had joined that ship, before its lift out from lunar orbit, the voyage ahead of them had been six months, and the accommodation waiting at the other end of it had been cramped quarters in the subsurface part of a scientific base situated on Ganymede’s ice sheets, with the constant vibration of machinery and an ever-present odor of hot oil.

“Yes,” Danchekker agreed. “And I recollect being adamant at the termination of that escapade that I would never set foot inside one of these contraptions again.” He sighed. “However, the designers responsible for this accomplishment would appear to have been from a different school from their terrestrial counterparts, whose imaginative limits one must suppose to have been set by experiences with submarines and tanks.”

“And it will get you far, far away a lot faster,” Hunt reminded him.

“Hmm, there is that.”

Duncan Watt did a quick mental calculation. “Something like seventy million times faster, in fact,” he said. He was thirty-two, with a ruddy, vigorous complexion and thick, jet black hair. He had the rugged kind of looks that made Hunt think of him as belonging more on a football field or in a boxing ring than in a mathematical physics lab.

Near Duncan were a man and a woman accompanying a group of teenagers, who at that moment were standing motionless in awe. “This is a unique moment in the history of the universe,” the man muttered, moving a step closer and nodding his head to indicate his charges. “It’s the first time ever that this bunch have all been quiet at the same time.”

Duncan grinned. “Who are they?” he asked.

“A class of tenth-graders going on vacation. I’m still not really sure how it happened. Somebody at the school came up with the idea as a joke, and the Ganymeans said sure, no problem. Goddamnedest thing I ever heard of.”

Then VISAR said to Hunt, “You have a reception committee waiting for you.” From the change of expression on Danchekker’s face, Hunt knew that VISAR was talking to him, too.

“Where?” Hunt asked.

“The two officers standing a bit to your left.”

Hunt looked around and saw the Thuriens whom VISAR had indicated already moving forward. The millions of years that separated the Ganymeans of Minerva, as typified by the Shapieron’s complement, from the Thuriens had produced visible differences. Although of the same general pattern, the Thuriens were darker, almost black, more slender, and on average slightly shorter. The two who had been waiting were clad in loose-fitting green tunics, each with a halterlike embellishment of elaborately woven metallic threads hanging on either side from the neck to the waist.

“Dr. Hunt? Professor Danchekker?” one of them inquired.

“That’s us,” Hunt confirmed.

“My name is Kalor, and this is Merglis. We are here on behalf of Captain Fytom to welcome you aboard the Vishnu.”

“It seemed fitting that you should be given a personal greeting,” the other explained.

They shook hands-the Terran custom had come to be generally accepted. Hunt introduced Sandy and Duncan.

“The captain sends his compliments,” Kalor informed them. “He is aware that your visit to Jevlen is to study Ganymean science. If any of the Vishnu’s specialists can be of assistance during our brief voyage, consider them at your disposal.”

“Very considerate of him,” Danchekker replied. “Convey our thanks. We will certainly bear his offer in mind.”

“You are also invited to view the command center once we are under way,” Kalor said. “But just at the moment things there are a bit hectic, as I’m sure you’ll appreciate.”

“Whenever is convenient. Yes, we’d like that very much,” Hunt answered.

“Are we invited, too?” Sandy asked hopefully.

“But naturally,” Kalor told her.

“I think we pick the right people to go traveling with,” Duncan said.

“For now, we’ll take you to the section that has been reserved for Terran accommodation,” Kalor said. “Since it looks as if Terrans are going to become regular passengers on these trips, we’re making it a permanent feature of the ship.”

He led them over to a platform jutting out into a broad, elongated space, lower than the area they had just crossed, arched at intervals by sections of bulkhead that glowed with an internal amber light, and dividing to left, right, above, and below into smaller tunnels and shafts radiating away in all directions.

Sandy looked uncertainly at the platform as Kalor gestured. “What do I do?” she asked.

“To take a tube anywhere, just climb aboard,” Merglis said. “VISAR will take you to your chosen destination.” So saying, he stepped off the platform and hung suspended on an invisible cushion of force.

“It couldn’t be simpler,” Kalor said, gesturing again.

“Just what we need under New York,” Hunt told her.

Sandy drew a breath, then shrugged resignedly and followed after Merglis, who was floating a few feet from the platform, waiting for them. One by one the others did likewise, with Kalor bringing up the rear, and seconds later they found themselves being carried into the labyrinth as a group, close enough together to be able to talk easily. The field molded itself comfortably around their bodies. They entered a wide, vertical shaft walled by tiered galleries, which somehow transformed itself into an avenue of shining walls and huge windows of what seemed to be stores of every kind, amusement centers, offices, and eating places. It resembled an enclosed city street more than anything Hunt had ever pictured as a thoroughfare inside a spacecraft. Then they came out into a larger, open space like a plaza, but three-dimensional, with concourses and floors going off at all angles, and he completely lost what little sense of direction he had managed to retain. Like a bushman grappling with a modern-day city, he didn’t have the conceptual knack for interpreting the geometry.

But when the party arrived at the Terran section of the ship, they found that the layout there confined itself to one recognizable plane where “up” was up and stayed that way, and everybody walked. There were reassuringly familiar sleeping cabins, a cafeteria modeled on the facilities in UNSA’s mission ships, and a common mess area, complete with bar and white-jacketed bartender. And the chairs, tables, and other fittings were made to human proportions, not Ganymean.

Each of the passengers had a personal suite located along a corridor a short distance from the mess area and consisting of a bedroom, a sitting area with robot kitchen unit, and a bathroom, “I trust these will be comfortable enough for the two days,” Kalor said, showing Hunt his quarters.