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Updated: May 10, 2025
One of the independents spaced out in disgust. The next day, two others came in, loaded with booty from a raid on Braggi, and decided to stay around for a while and see what happened. And four days after that, a five-hundred-foot hyperspace yacht, bearing the daggers and chevrons of Bigglersport, came in. As soon as she was out of the last microjump, she began calling by screen.
"If he left Curtana twelve hundred hours ago, he's still in hyperspace," Guatt Kirbey said. "It's over two thousand from Curtana to the nearest Old Federation planet." "How far to Tanith?" Duke Angus asked. "I'm sure that's where he's gone. He'd expect me to finish the other ship and equip her like the Enterprise and send her out; he'd want to get there first."
Transitioning out of hyperspace was simple, even in the middle of a programmed course; Ensign Olorun flipped a switch on his Helm console, puncturing the hyperfield and bringing them to rest relative to what little matter was present in interstellar normspace. The Navigator didn't need orders; he began plotting a course to the signal source as soon as the Lindner made her out-transition.
You get starry-eyed every time you start talking about the hyperdrive!" Alan opened the book to a dog-eared page. "I know it can be done eventually. I'm sure of it. I'm even sure Cavour himself actually succeeded in building a hyperspace vessel." "Sure," Rat said drily, switching his long tail from side to side. "Sure he built one. That explains his strange disappearance.
Their every calculation had checked out in practice so far. But the real test was yet to come. They were well beyond the orbit of Pluto when they decided they would be safe in using the space strain drive and throwing the ship into hyperspace. Morey was in the hyperspace control room, watching the instruments there. They were ready! "Hold on!" called Arcot. "Here we go if at all!"
We talk glibly about ten to the hundredth power, but emotionally we still count, 'One, Two, Three, Many. A ship in hyperspace logs about a light-year an hour. You can go from here to Excalibur in thirty hours. But you could send a radio message announcing the birth of a son, and he'd be a father before it was received.
We do hope, though, that you won't make any difficulty about our letting down and giving our men a couple of hundred hours' liberty. They've been in hyperspace for three thousand hours." "See!" Spasso clamored. "He wants to trick us into letting him land " "Captain Spasso," Trask cut in. "Will you please stop insulting everybody's intelligence, your own included."
Three months later, the next ship, which had left Gram while King Angus' summons was still in hyperspace, brought Baron Rathmore. Shaking hands with him as he left the landing craft, Trask wanted to know if he'd been sent out as the new Viceroy. Rathmore started to laugh and ended by cursing vilely. "No. I've come out to offer my sword to the King of Tanith," he said.
He was in his early twenties, now, a tall, powerful figure, widely known all over Earth. With Jesperson's shrewd aid he had pyramided Max's original million credits into an imposing fortune and much of it was being diverted to hyperspace research.
Then it came back to him Bentley was the vice-provost of the London Institute of Technology, Cavour's old school. Alan had had a long talk with Bentley one afternoon in January, about Cavour, about space travel, and about Alan's hopes for developing a hyperspace drive. The parcel was the right size and thickness to contain a book. Alan slit the fastenings, and folded back the outer wrapper.
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