The
Invincible moved across the outermost quadrant of the Lyre Constellation. The
heavy cruiser was propelled through space by photon drive. It was the largest
ship at the disposal of the space fleet based in this section of the universe.
The ship's complement numbered eighty-three men, presently asleep inside
the hibernation tunnel. The flight distance was sufficiently short for it not
to have been necessary to resort to full hibernation; the men were simply kept
in deep sleep, body temperature regulated so as never to fall below 50 degrees
F. Within the cruiser's control centre only the automats carried on their
work.
Dead centre in the direction finder hung the disk of a sun not much hotter
than an ordinary red dwarf star. The moment the sun filled half the screen the
space-drive automatically cut off. For a while dead silence reigned throughout
the ship. The air-conditioning system and the computers functioned
noiselessly. The slight vibration ceased when the photon stream no longer
emerged from the spacecraft's stern. This stream had been like an infinitely
long sword, sheathed in darkness, thrusting the cruiser ahead through the
vastness of space. The Invincible was still coasting along just under the
speed of light; rigid, deaf, and seemingly without any life aboard.
Tiny lamps on the instrument panel reflected the dish glow of the distant
sun looming large on the central videoscreen. Now the magnetic tapes started
moving. Programmed coded strips crept slowly into the intake slots of a series
of instruments. Sparks flew from the transformers; and the current flooded
into the supply network, accompanied by a faint hum that was not heard by any
living thing. Electro-motors overcame the resistance of long dried-out
lubricating oil and started humming. Their low roar soon changed into a
high-pitched moaning sound. Cadmium rods were pushed outwards by the auxiliary
reactors; magnetic pumps squeezed liquid natrium into the cooling coils; a
mild tremor ran through the ship's stern. Faint rattling noises came from
inside the hull as if swarms of tiny animals were busily scurrying about
scratching the metal walls with their sharp little claws. This was the sign
that the repair robots had started out on their rounds, checking the solidity
of the braces of the ship's framework; making sure that the hull had not been
damaged anywhere and that all seams were still welded tight. The entire ship
came to life, filled with myriad noises and activities . . . only the crew had
not yet awakened...
Translated by Michael Kandel, Seabury Press
]
