Between the Strokes of Night

“Are we going back to The Ship?”

The woman looked startled, then amused. “No. I can’t tell you much, but I can tell you that. We’re on a longer trip — Sector Headquarters is outside the Cass system — nearly a light-year away from Cassay and Pentecost.”

“And we’ll be there in two days. So you do travel faster than light!” Now she was looking very uncomfortable. “I’m not supposed to tell you anything. I’m a doctor, not a damned administrator.” There was an irritation at somebody or something in her tone, and Peron filed it away for future reference. “But we don’t travel faster than light. In S-space, light travels almost two thousand light-years of normal distance in one of our years. We’re travelling at only a fraction of light-speed.”

Peron was overwhelmed by the thought. Could she be telling the truth? If she were, Sol and Earth itself were only a couple of months away. And if they had been on their journey for five hours already, they must be deep into interstellar space. He was beginning to feel drowsy, but suddenly he had a tremendous desire to see Cassay again. And what would the starscape be like, at this tremendous speed?

“What’s wrong?” She had seen his expression.

“Can we look out of here — look at the stars?”

She shook her head. “I sometimes have that wish myself. When you wake up, take a look in the next room. There’s an exterior port there. You’ll find that things look rather different in S-space. But now, I have to go. My name, by the way, is Ferranti; Dr. Olivia Ferranti. I will be seeing a good deal of you until we’re sure that you are stable here. And I’ll be back tomorrow.” She gave him a reassuring nod. “Be patient. Command: Take me to my apartment.”

“But what — “

Peron didn’t bother to finish his sentence. She had gone, vanished instantly into the air. In another thirty seconds the drugs had taken him and he was sound asleep.

* * *

The room where he had first regained consciousness lacked clothing, food, or drink. There was a terminal near the table, which must clearly communicate with other parts of the ship, but when he next awoke Peron resisted his first urge, to call and ask for something to eat. He felt ravenous, and still oddly disoriented, but there were other overriding priorities.

All the monitors by the table were still working, but now they received telemetered data originating from small sensors attached to his body. They undoubtedly passed on those signals to some central monitoring computer, possibly one that responded only to emergencies. Peron felt that he should have at least a few minutes before his actions were controlled again. He slid off the table, took a moment to collect his balance, and then headed for one of the room’s two doors.

It led to a long windowless corridor. Wrong choice. He backtracked, and found that the other led to a bigger room, with a great transparent port at one end. Peron went to it and stared out.

He had certainly expected something different from the usual starscape seen from within the Cass system; perhaps the familiar constellations, but subtly distorted. But what he was looking at was wholly inexplicable.

Beyond the port, the whole sky was filled with a faint, pearly glow. It seemed to possess no orientation, and everywhere it was of the same uniform brightness. No stars, no nebulae, no dust clouds, no galaxies; the whole universe had disappeared, lost in a diffuse, glowing haze.

Peron felt his head begin to spin. He was in S-space, and it was so far different from anything he had imagined that he had no idea what to do next. If he had been trapped and held prisoner — for that was the way he was beginning to perceive his situation on this ship — in any ordinary environment he could perhaps have gained control and had some say in his own actions. But what could he do here? There was nothing in Pentecost’s science that even hinted at the possibility of this. Sy, far more able scientifically than Peron, had scoffed at the very idea.

Peron felt a moment of annoyance. If only Sy could be here now, to see how far his theories would take him.…

The rest of the room lacked any furnishings or useful sources of information. There was a set of small and mysterious doors or panels in the base of the wall, each only a couple of feet high, but he could not open them. He turned to go back to the corridor, and was reminded of his own hunger and thirst. He remembered Dr. Ferranti’s ability to conjure drink from nothing (And ask Sy to explain that, while he was at it!). Could it possibly work for him, too? There seemed nothing he could lose by trying.

“Command.” Even though he was alone, he felt self-conscious — what he was attempting was impossible! But it had worked, he was convinced of that. “Command. Bring me a drink.”