James P Hogan. Inherit The Stars. Giant Series #1

laid throughout the ship, from the command ‘deck with its

fifteen-foot-wide display screen, through the control rooms, living

quarters, and hospital, to the cargo holds and the tiers of cages

that had contained the animals. The primary energy-convertor and

generator section was as imposing and as complex as the inside of a

thermonuclear power station. Beyond it, they passed through a

bulkhead and found themselves dwarfed beneath the curves of the

exposed portions of a pair of enormous toroids. The engineer

leading them pointed up at the immense, sweeping surfaces of metal.

“The walls of those outer casings are sixteen feet thick,” he

in-formed them. “They’re made from an alloy that would cut

tungsten-carbide steel like cream cheese. The mass concentration

inside them is phenomenal. We think they provided closed paths in

which masses of highly concentrated matter were constrained in

circulating or oscillating resonance, interacting with strong

fields. It’s possible that the high rates of change of gravity

potential that this produced were somehow harnessed to induce a

controlled distortion in the space around the ship. In other words,

it moved by continuously falling into a hole that it created in

front of itself- kind of like a four-dimensional tank track.”

“You mean it trapped itself inside a space-time bubble, which

propagated somehow through normal space?” somebody offered.

“Yes, if you like,” the engineer affirmed. “I guess a bubble is as

good an analogy as any. The interesting point is, if it did work

that way, every particle of the ship and everything inside it would

be subjected to exactly the same acceleration. Therefore there

would be no G effect. You could stop the ship dead from, say, a

million miles an hour to zero in a millisecond, and nobody inside

would even know the difference.”

“How about top speed?” someone else asked. ‘Would there have been a

relativistic limit?”

“We don’t know. The theory boys up in Jupiter Four have been losing

a lot of sleep over that. Conventional mechanics wouldn’t apply to

any movement of the ship itself, since it wouldn’t be actually

moving in the local space inside the bubble. The question of how

the bubble propagates through normal space is a different ball game

altogether. A whole new theory of fields has to be

worked out. Maybe completely new laws of physics apply-as I said

before, we just don’t know. But one thing seems clear: Those

photon-drive starships they’re designing in California might turn

out to be obsolete before they’re even built. If we can figure out

enough about how this ship worked, the knowledge could put us

forward a hundred years.”

By the end of the day Hunt’s mind was in a whirl. New information

was coming in faster than he could digest it. The questions in his

head were multiplying at a rate a thousand times faster than they

could ever be answered. The riddle of the Ganymean spaceship grew

more intriguing with every new revelation, but at the back of it

there was still the Lunarian problem unresolved. He needed time to

stand back and think, to put his mental house in order and sort the

jumble into related thoughts that would slot into labeled boxes in

his mind. Then he would be able to see better which question

depended on what, and which needed to be tackled first. But the

jumble was piling up faster than he could pick up the pieces.

The banter and laughter in the mess after the evening meal soon

became intolerable. Alone in his room, he found the walls

claustrophobic. For a while he walked the deserted corridors

between the domes and buildings. They were oppressive; he had lived

in metal cans for too long. Eventually he found himself in the

control tower dome, staring out into the incandescent gray wall

that was produced by the floodlights around the base soaking

through the methane-ammonia fog of the Ganymedean night. After a

while even the presence of the duty controller, his face etched out

against the darkness by the glow from his console, became an

intrusion. Hunt stopped by the console on his way to the stairwell.

“Check me out for surface access.”

The duty controller looked across at him. “You’re going outside?”

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