Next Door, Next World Part 7

"That's right. We're trying to tell you that you have obviously landed in another time-track. One that is parallel to--but just a slight bit different from the one you formerly knew. To you, we seem to be the same officers as in that world; but of course, we're not. It isn't the same universe. Hypers.p.a.ce is tricky stuff, as our men are finding out.

You've just got bounced around by one of the trickiest things connected with it."

Lance groaned. "Now, I'm told!"

"I'm sorry. It's nothing new, only the information is cla.s.sified top-secret in our world; and evidently in yours, too. It has to be withheld from hype-trainees, otherwise they might deliberately flunk their course. We're running pilot cla.s.ses here on our track, too. We have to keep them filled."

Lance was stunned. He hardly knew what he should say or do next.

Finally, he put forth a faltering question: "Is there any way I can get back to Home Base? _My_ home base?"

All three officers in the room shook their heads in unison.

"You might as well look for a pebble in the beach," said Nordsen. He elucidated: "As a matter of fact, this _is_ Home Base for you. The differences between one track and another are not usually too great; the resemblances are many. Sometimes even, the returned pilot accommodates himself to the new time-track without suspecting in the slightest what's happened to him."

"And in those cases, you seldom bother to enlighten him, I suppose."

"Naturally not. Security frowns on it."

"But in my case, you couldn't cover up."

"Your case manifests a much more serious slippage. Your path, evidently, warped to a track several million or billion worlds further over than anybody from your world had previously experienced.

Consequently, your luck has really been unfortunate. You've materialized out of hypers.p.a.ce into a universe where someone you apparently knew quite closely simply was never born."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"But Carolyn did exist before ... where I was? I'm not dreaming."

"No. Both our worlds are equally real."

Lance, though he felt the truth slowly and inexorably sink in, still could not quite grasp all its implications. He turned his numbed face to the other two officers in the room. Colonel Sagen and Major Carmody inclined their heads.

For one despairing moment, Lance felt almost like hurling himself through the window. Then, he straightened up. His mouth compressed into a thin line. "If I must face the facts, I must. But," his tone edged off into irony, "it sure isn't easy. You'll have to give me time."

Colonel Nordsen stood up, held out his hand. "I'm sorry, major, believe me. This is a hard blow to take and I wouldn't care to be on the receiving end, myself. But you'll adjust. If you like, I'll recommend you for convalescent leave. You understand, of course," the psychiatrist went on, "that we expect you to keep tight-lipped. Our hype-cla.s.ses are still too small. We need a lot of sharp men, and they have to be volunteers. Right, Colonel Sagen?"

"Right."

Lance dropped the proffered hand. "I get it. Let the word get around how hypers.p.a.ce messes you up, all your bright young jets will bug out on it.

That's your main worry, isn't it? Not what happens to me."

"Frankly, yes," Nordsen acknowledged, without blinking. "But the s.p.a.ce Service is also concerned about individuals. Don't worry now, major.

We'll look after you."

"Don't bother!" An uncontrolled bitterness crept into Lance's reply.

"Far as I'm concerned, the s.p.a.ce Service can go to h.e.l.l. What reason have I got to stay in it? You've conned me out of all that meant anything in my life."

n.o.body said a word.

Lance rose to his feet, unsteadily. His sardonic glance swept over them.

"I suppose it's back to the guardhouse for me now, huh? Well, I won't be sorry to go. I'll find better company. And I refuse your bribe of special leave-time."

Colonel Nordsen seemed unaffected. "You're making a mistake," he said, calmly.

"Am I?"

"Major, we're offering you a chance to get adjusted and a.s.similated.

Take it or leave it. We can hold you in the brig until you see reason.

But you're a good man. We need you."

"For what? More flights through that hypers.p.a.ce muck?"

"If you can pa.s.s our mental stability tests, yes."

"And if not?"

"You'll be grounded."

Lance made a sudden decision.

"I want to go up right now."

"What?"

"You heard me. I want to go up in the _Cosmos XII_ right now, tests or no tests. Ground me--and I'll never have a chance again. Don't you think I'm hep to that?"

"We'll see that you're not grounded," broke in Colonel Sagen, from behind his desk.

But Lance didn't believe him.

"Don't try to kid me, colonel," he snapped out. "You write me out flight orders for the _Cosmos XII_, or I'll blab everything I know. You can't hang me, you can't tear my tongue out--and I know I'll bust out of your guardhouse one way or another! You'll see! And then, how will you fill up your precious training cla.s.ses? Then, how will you get new chumps to pilot your ships to the stars? The stars! Ha, ha! That's the biggest joke of all!"

Colonel Sagen began to splutter. Lance, watching him carefully, decided there wasn't much resemblance between the old boy and the fine Colonel Sagen he'd known in his own world. Maybe it'd been having the softening influence of normal family life and a growing daughter that had made old Hard-Head human.

"You'll never get away with this," Sagen warned. "We're three against one."

"Won't I?" Lance's hand darted inside his shirt. "Maybe this'll equalize us." He brought out the pistol he'd taken off the captain in the guardhouse. Sagen, Nordsen, and Carmody backed off from it.

"The _Cosmos XII_ is still two-thirds fueled," Lance said. "And well-stocked on provisions. Besides, I'm a light eater in hypers.p.a.ce--as who isn't? I intend to take that ship out again, and you're going to help me, gentlemen."

Lance flicked off the safety and waved the gun back and forth, to demonstrate what he meant.

It worked.