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course you’ve all read the fantastic speculations on the possibility of attack by alien space-vessels or creatures inhabiting space. I do not need to label this as nonsense.
    “Our greatest danger is ourselves. Boredom, petty irritations—these are our worst enemies. We’re crowded together, tangled in each other’s arms and legs. I can think of no situation so calculated to bring out the best or worst in a man. Now you, Bob, and you, Julius, I’ve shipped with you many a time; I know you well. You, Jay, you represent your father, and I’m sure that, like the rest of us, you’re determined to make the trip as easy on all our nerves as possible.
    “There’s not much work to do. I wish there were more. Julius, of course, is in charge of cooking and the galley.” His voice took on a sardonic edge. “Jay has his gyroscopes to attend to, and I understand he’s keeping a detailed record…Well, every man to his own poison.
    “I’ll take the first watch, Jay the second, Bob the third. Our main duties will be to lubricate the machinery, to chart what we can see in the vision panels, and keep the destriation field at normal percentage. Each of us will be responsible for the cleanliness of himself, his clothes, his bunk. Everyone must be neat. Nothing is as demoralizing as slovenliness. Shaving and clean clothes are mandatory…That’s all for now.”
    He turned, swung himself up on the bridge deck.
    The moon was a tremendous silver melon spattered with black frost; it hulked below and off to the left. Directly ahead floated Tuck, the tube, with a cluster of stars shining through the hole.
    Chiram nosed the cylinder into the opening, thrust home a switch; the cylinder shivered, jerked as the guide beams excited relays, pulled the ships into rigid alignment.
    Dead ahead was Deneb—the line of their way around the universe.
    Chiram called by radio to Tuck. “Everything all right in there?”
    “Ready to go,” came back Henry’s voice.
    Chiram said, “Throw in your field.” He yanked another switch; the gravity unit buzzed, rattled, settled into a drone; the crew was tied to the ship, and, like the ship, free of inertia.
    Chiram spun a polished wheel, and the voyage had begun.
    An instant passed. Then a flicker at the side port was Tuck, racing ahead. Another flicker was Nip threading Tuck. The flickers became swifter, became a continuous quiver, vanished.
    Stars began to move, slide past each other, like shining motes in a drift of sunlit air. They streamed past—now bunched, now sparse, clusters, swarms, flaring clouds of gas, and as they passed aft of amidships they vanished, their light lagging behind the thistledown rush of Nip and Tuck.
    Flame, dazzle, flicker—stars in pairs, trios, quartets, stars in hurrying multitudinous companies. Stars in rivers and stars like isolated beacons. Stars approached from far ahead, passing over, around, under, like wind-blown sparks. And presently the stars vanished in front and to the side, and Nip and Tuck were in intergalactic space.
    Speed added to speed, built up in constant increments. Ship threaded ship like a needle in a shuttle, each guiding the other down a geometrically straight line. So straight that in a thousand light years the error might be a hundred miles—an error which might or might not average out over longer distances.
    Jay checked the course on his gyro-compass. He looked a minute, tapped the case with his finger. “Right on,” he announced. “We’re right on course.”
    “Glad to hear it,” said Chiram sardonically. “Watch it close now.”
    The great nebula in Andromeda passed under them, a whirling pancake of cold fire. It passed behind, out of sight.
    Speed, speed, speed. Acceleration as fast as the relays could shuttle ship back and forth through ship. Speed building up toward instantaneity.
    Watches passed, days passed. The galaxies flitted by like luminous bats—straggling watch-springs, hot puddles of gas. At the start and close of