Уильям Макгиверн - Collected Fiction - 1940-1963

Margot showed no response, but then, Ramsey told himself, she was a tri-di actress. She could feign an emotion — or hide one. She merely asked: “Is it true that there’s no such thing as time in hyper-space?”

“That’s right. That’s why you can travel scores or hundreds or thousands of light years through hyper-space in hours. Hyper-space is a continuum of only three dimensions. There is no fourth dimension, no dimension of duration.”

“Then why aren’t trips through hyper-space instantaneous? They take several hours, don’t they?”

“Sure, but the way scientists have it figured, that’s subjective time. No objective time passes at all. It can’t. There isn’t any — in hyper-space.”

“Then you mean—”

Ramsey shook his head. “0134:02,” he said. “It’s almost time.”

The seconds ticked away. Even Margot did not seem relaxed now. She stared nervously at the chronometer, or watched Ramsey’s lips as he silently read away the seconds. A place where time did not exist, an under-stratum of extension sans duration. An idea suddenly entered her mind, and she was afraid.

If proto-man had colonized the galactic worlds between one and four or five million years ago, but if time did not exist for proto-man, then wasn’t the super-race which had engendered all mankind still waiting in its timeless home, waiting perhaps grimly amused to see which of their progeny first discovered their secret? Or must proto-man, like humans everywhere, fall victim to subjective time if objective time did not matter for him?

Ramsey was saying softly: “Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five, fifty-six... blastoff!”

His hand slammed down on the activating key.

An instant later, having felt no sensation of acceleration, they were floating weightlessly in the cabin of the little Enterprise .

“They qualities of radar,” Garr Symm said, “exist in their totality in a universe of extension. Time, actually is a drawback to radar, necessitating a duration-lag between sending and receiving. Therefore, Ramar Chind, radar behaves perfectly in hyper-space, as you see.”

“Yes,” Ramar Chind said, floating near the radar screen aboard the Dog Star . At its precise center was a bright little pip of light.

The Enterprise ...

“But don’t we do anything except follow them?” Ramar Chind said after a long silence.

Garr Symm smiled. “Does it really matter? You see, Chind, time actually stands still for us here. Duration is purely subjective, so what’s your hurry?”

Ramar Chind licked his lips nervously and stared fascinated at the little pip of bright light.

Which suddenly dipped and swung erratically.

“What is it?” Margot asked. “What’s the matter?”

“Take it easy,” Ramsey told her.

“But the ship’s swooping. I can feel it. I thought you weren’t supposed to feel movement in hyper-space!”

“Relax, will you? There are eddies in hyper-space, that’s all. If you want an analogy in terms of our own universe, think of shoals in an ocean — unmarked by buoys or lights.”

“You mean they have to be avoided?”

“Yes.”

“But this particular shoal — it’s midway between Irwadi and Earth?”

“There isn’t any ‘midway’, Margot. That’s the paradox of hyper-space.”

“I— I don’t understand.”

“Look. In the normal universe, extension is measured by time. That is, it takes a certain amount of time to get from point A to point B. Conversely, time is measured by extension in space. On Earth, a day of time passes when Earth moves through space on an arc one three-hundred-sixty-fifth of its orbit around the sun in length. Since there isn’t any time to measure extension with in hyper-space, since time doesn’t exist here, you can’t speak of mid-points.”

“But this — shoal. It’s always encountered in hyper-space between Earth and Irwadi?”

Ramsey nodded. “Yes, that is right.”

Margot smiled.

The smile suddenly froze on her face.

The Enterprise lurched as if an unseen giant hand had slapped it.

At that moment Ramsey leaned forward over the controls, battling to bring the Enterprise back on course.

And let down his mental guard.

... precise place in hyper-space her father must have meant... home of proto-man... thinks I’m going to stop there, she’s crazy... heck, I’m no mystic, but there are things not meant to be meddled with...

The ship swooped again. Ramsey went forward against the control panel head-first and fell dazed from the pilot chair. His head whirled, his arms and legs were suddenly weak and rubbery. He tried to stand up and make his way back to the controls again, but collapsed and went down to his knees. He crouched there, trying to shake the fog from his brain.

With a cry of triumph, Margot Dennison leaped at him and bore him down to the floor with her weight. He was still too dazed from the blow on his head to offer any resistance when her strong hands tugged at his belt and withdrew the m.g. gun. She got up with it, backing away from him quickly toward the rear bulkhead as the ship seemed to go into a smooth glide which could be felt within it. Vardin stood alongside Ramsey, a hand to her mouth in horror. Ramsey got up slowly.

“Stay where you are!” Margot cried, pointing the m.g. gun at him. “I’ll kill you if I have to. I’ll kill you, Ramsey, I mean it.”

Ramsey did not move.

“So you knew about my father,” Margot challenged him.

“Yeah. So what?”

“And this shoal in hyper-space is a world, isn’t it?”

Ramsey nodded. “I think so.”

“O.K. Sit down at the controls, Ramsey. That’s right. Don’t try anything.”

Ramsey was seated in the pilot chair again. His head was still whirling but his strength had returned. He wondered if he could chance rushing her but told himself she meant what she said. She would kill him in cold blood if she had to.

“Bring the Enterprise down on that world, Ramsey.”

He sat there and stubbornly shook his head. “Margot, you’ll be meddling with a power beyond human understanding.”

“Rubbish! You read my father’s letter, didn’t you? That fear’s been implanted in your genes. It’s part of the heredity of our people. It’s rubbish. Bring the ship down.”

Still Ramsey did not move. Vardin looked from him to Margot Dennison and back again with horror in her eyes.

“I’ll count three,” Margot said. “Then I’ll shoot the Vegan girl. Do you understand?”

Ramsey’s face went white.

“One,” Margot said.

Vardin stared at him beseechingly.

Ramsey said: “All right, Margot. All right.”

Five minutes later, subjective time, the Enterprise landed with a lurch.

That they had reached a world in hyper-space there could be no doubt. But outside the portholes of the little freighter was only the murky grayness of the timeless hyper-space continuum.

“They’ve gone down, sir!” Ramar Chind cried.

Garr Symm nodded. For the first time he was really nervous. He wondered about the Dennison letter. Could his fear be attributed to ancestral memory, as Dennison had indicated? Was it really baseless — this crawling, cold-fingered hand of fear on his spine?

There was no physical barrier. The Enterprise had established that fact. Then was there a barrier which Garr Symm, along with all humanoids, had somehow inherited?

A barrier of stark terror, subjective and unfounded on fact?

And beyond it — what?

Power to chain the universe...

Think, Garr Symm told himself. You’ve got to be rational. You’re a scientist. You’ve been trained as a scientist. This is their barrier, erected against you, against all humanoids, a million years ago. It isn’t real. It’s all in your mind.