Subspace Survivors Read online

  SUBSPACE SURVIVORS

  by

  EDWARD E. SMITH, Ph. D.

  Illustrated by van Dongen

  +--------------------------------------------------------------+ | _There has always been, and will always be, the problem of | | surviving the experience that any trained expert can handle | | ... when there hasn't been any first survivor to be an | | expert! When no one has ever gotten back to explain what | | happened...._ | +--------------------------------------------------------------+

  I.

  "All passengers, will you[1] pay attention, please?" All thehigh-fidelity speakers of the starship _Procyon_ spoke as one, in theskillfully-modulated voice of the trained announcer. "This is the fourthand last cautionary announcement. Any who are not seated will seatthemselves at once. Prepare for take-off acceleration of one andone-half gravities; that is, everyone will weigh one-half again as muchas his normal Earth weight for about fifteen minutes. We lift in twentyseconds; I will count down the final five seconds.... Five ... Four ...Three ... Two ... One ... Lift!"

  [1] Transcriber's Note: The original read "will pay attention, please?"

  The immense vessel rose from her berth; slowly at first, but withever-increasing velocity; and in the main lounge, where many of thepassengers had gathered to watch the dwindling Earth, no one moved forthe first five minutes. Then a girl stood up.

  She was not a startlingly beautiful girl; no more so than can be seenfairly often, of a summer afternoon, on Seaside Beach. Her hair was anartificial yellow. Her eyes were a deep, cool blue. Her skin, what couldbe seen of it--she was wearing breeches and a long-sleeved shirt--waslightly tanned. She was only about five-feet-three, and her build wasnot spectacular. However, every ounce of her one hundred fifteen poundswas exactly where it should have been.

  First she stood tentatively, flexing her knees and testing her weight.Then, stepping boldly out into a clear space, she began to do ahigh-kicking acrobatic dance; and went on doing it as effortlessly andas rhythmically as though she were on an Earthly stage.

  "You mustn't _do_ that, Miss!" A stewardess came bustling up. Or,rather, not exactly bustling. Very few people, and almost nostewardesses, either actually bustle in or really enjoy one point fivegees. "You really _must_ resume your seat, Miss. I must insist.... Oh,you're Miss Warner...."

  She paused.

  "That's right, Barbara Warner. Cabin two eight one."

  "But really, Miss Warner, it's regulations, and if you should fall...."

  "Foosh to regulations, and _pfui_ on 'em. I won't fall. I've beenwondering, every time out, if I could do a thing, and now I'm going tofind out."

  Jackknifing double, she put both forearms flat on the carpet and liftedboth legs into the vertical. Then, silver slippers pointing motionlesslyceilingward, she got up onto her hands and walked twice around a vacantchair. She then performed a series of flips that would have done creditto a professional acrobat; the finale of which left her sitting calmlyin the previously empty seat.

  "See?" she informed the flabbergasted stewardess. "I _could_ do it, andI didn't...."

  Her voice was drowned out in a yell of approval as everybody who couldclap their hands did so with enthusiasm. "More!" "Keep it up, gal!" "Doit again!"

  "Oh, I didn't do that to show off!" Barbara Warner flushed hotly as shemet the eyes of the nearby spectators. "Honestly I didn't--I just _had_to know if I could." Then, as the applause did not die down, she fairlyscampered out of the room.

  * * * * *

  For one hour before the _Procyon's_ departure from Earth and for threehours afterward, First Officer Carlyle Deston, Chief Electronicist, satattentively at his board. He was five feet eight inches tall and weighedone hundred sixty-two pounds net. Just a little guy, as spacemen go.Although narrow-waisted and, for his heft, broad-shouldered, he wasbuilt for speed and maneuverability, not to haul freight.

  Watching a hundred lights and half that many instruments, listening totwo phone circuits, one with each ear, and hands moving from switches torheostats to buttons and levers, he was completely informed as to theinstant-by-instant status of everything in his department.

  Although attentive, he was not tense, even during the countdown. Theonly change was that at the word "Two" his right forefinger came to restupon a red button and his eyes doubled their rate of scan. If anythingin his department had gone wrong, the _Procyon_'s departure would havebeen delayed.

  And again, well out beyond the orbit of the moon, just before thestarship's mighty Chaytor engines hurled her out of space as we know itinto that unknowable something that is hyperspace, he poised a finger.But Immergence, too, was normal; all the green lights except one wentout, needles dropped to zero, both phones went dead, all signalsstopped. He plugged a jack into a socket below the one remaining greenlight and spoke:

  "Procyon One to Control Six. Flight Eight Four Nine. Subspace Radio TestOne. How do you read me, Control Six?"

  "Control Six to Procyon One. I read you ten and zero. How do you readme, Procyon One?"

  "Ten and zero. Out." Deston flipped a toggle and the solitary greenlight went out.

  Perfect signal and zero noise. That was that. From now untilEmergence--unless something happened--he might as well be a passenger.Everything was automatic, unless and until some robot or computer yelledfor help. Deston leaned back in his bucket seat and lighted a cigarette.He didn't need to scan the board constantly now; any trouble signalwould jump right out at him.

  Promptly at Dee plus Three Zero Zero--three hours, no minutes, noseconds after departure--his relief appeared.

  "All black, Babe?" the newcomer asked.

  "As the pit, Eddie. Take over." Eddie did so. "You've picked out yourgirl friend for the trip, I suppose?"

  "Not yet. I got sidetracked watching Bobby Warner. She was doinghandstands and handwalks and forward and back flips in the lounge--underone point five gees yet. _Wow!_ And after that all the other womenlooked like a dime's worth of catmeat. She doesn't stand out too muchuntil she starts to move, but then--Oh, _brother_!" Eddie rolled hiseyes, made motions with his hands, and whistled expressively. "Talkabout poetry in motion! Just walking across a stage, she'd bring downthe house and stop the show cold in its tracks."

  "O. K., O. K., don't blow a fuse," Deston said, resignedly. "I know.You'll love her undyingly; all this trip, maybe. So bring her up, nextwatch, and I'll give her a gold badge. As usual."

  "You ... how _dumb_ can you get?" Eddie demanded. "D'you think I'd even_try_ to play footsie with _Barbara Warner_?"

  "You'd play footsie with the Archangel Michael's sister if she'd letyou; and she probably would. So who's Barbara Warner?"

  Eddie Thompson gazed at his superior pityingly. "I know you're ten ninesper cent monk, Babe, but I _did_ think you pulled your nose out of themegacycles often enough to learn a _few_ of the facts of life. Did youever hear of Warner Oil?"

  "I think so." Deston thought for a moment. "Found a big new field,didn't they? In South America somewhere?"

  "Just the biggest on Earth, is all. And not only on Earth. He operatesin all the systems for a hundred parsecs around, and he never sinks adry hole. Every well he drills is a gusher that blows the rig clear upinto the stratosphere. Everybody wonders how he does it. My guess isthat his wife's an oil-witch, which is why he lugs his whole familyalong wherever he goes. Why else would he?"

  "Maybe he loves her. It happens, you know."

  "Huh?" Eddie snorted. "After twenty years of her? Comet-gas! Anyway,would _you_ have the sublime gall to make passes at Warner Oil'sheiress, with more millions in her own sock than you've got dimes?"

  "I don't make passes."

  "That's right, you
don't. Only at books and tapes, even on groundleaves; more fool you. Well, then, would you _marry_ anybody like that?"

  "Certainly, if I loved...." Deston paused, thought a moment, then wenton: "Maybe I wouldn't, either. She'd make me dress for dinner. She'dprobably have a live waiter; maybe even a butler. So I guess I wouldn't,at that."

  "You nor me neither, brother. But _what_ a dish! What a lovely,luscious, toothsome _dish_!" Eddie mourned.

  "You'll be raving about another one tomorrow," Deston said, unfeelingly,as he turned away.

  "I don't know; but even if I