The Space Opera MEGAPACK ®. Jay Lake
seats, which are mounted the same as the floor, only a whole lot more so. As to the acceleration.…”
“That word means picking up speed, doesn’t it?” interrupted Dorothy.
“The rate of picking up speed,” corrected Seaton. “That is, if you were going forty miles per hour one minute, and fifty the next minute, your acceleration would be ten miles per hour per minute. See? It’s acceleration that makes you feel funny when you start up or down in an elevator.”
“Then riding in this thing will be like starting up in an elevator so that your heart sinks into your boots and you can’t breathe?”
“Yes, only worse. We will pick up speed faster and keep on doing it.…”
“Seriously,” interrupted the lawyer, “do you think that the human body can stand any such acceleration as that?”
“I don’t know. We are going to find out, by starting out slowly and increasing our acceleration to as much as we can stand.”
“I see,” Vaneman replied. “But how are you going to steer her? How do you keep permanent reference points, since there are no directions in space?”
“That was our hardest problem,” explained Seaton, “but Martin solved it perfectly. See the power-plant up there? Notice those big supporting rings and bearings? Well, the power-plant is entirely separate from the ship, as it is inside that inner sphere, about which the outer sphere and the ship itself are free to revolve in any direction. No matter how much the ship rolls and pitches, as she is bound to do every time we come near enough to any star or planet to be influenced by its gravitation, the bar stays where it is pointed. Those six big jackets in the outer sphere, on the six sides of the bar, cover six pairs of gyroscope wheels, weighing several tons each, turning at a terrific speed in a vacuum. The gyroscopes keep the whole outer sphere in exactly the same position as long as they are kept turning, and afford us not only permanent planes of reference, but also a solid foundation in those planes which can be used in pointing the bar. The bar can be turned instantly to any direction whatever by special electrical instruments on the boards. You see, the outer sphere stays immovably fixed in that position, with the bar at liberty to turn in any direction inside it, and the ship at liberty to do the same thing outside it.
“Now we will show you where we sleep,” Seaton continued. “We have eight rooms, four below and four above,” leading the way to a narrow, steep steel stairway and down into a very narrow hall, from either side of which two doors opened. “This is my room, the adjoining one is Mart’s. Shiro sleeps across the hall. The rest of the rooms are for our guests on future trips.”
Sliding back the door, he switched on the light and revealed a small but fully-appointed bedroom, completely furnished with everything necessary, yet everything condensed into the least possible space. The floor, like the one above, was of cushioned leather supported by springs. The bed was a modification of the special seats already referred to. Opening another sliding door, he showed them an equally complete and equally compact bathroom.
“You see, we have all the comforts of home. This bathroom, however, is practical only when we have some force downward, either gravitation or our own acceleration. The same reasoning accounts for the hand-rails you see everywhere on board. Drifting in space, you know, there is no weight, and you can’t walk; you must pull yourself around. If you tried to take a step you would bounce up and hit the ceiling, and stay there. That is why the ceilings are so well padded. And if you tried to wash your face you would throw water all over the place, and it would float around in the air instead of falling to the floor. As long as we can walk we can use the bathroom—if I should want to wash my face while we are drifting, I just press this button here, and the pilot will put on enough acceleration to make the correct use of water possible. There are a lot of surprising things about a trip into space.”
“I don’t doubt it a bit, and I’m simply wild to go for a ride with you. When will you take me, Dicky?” asked Dorothy eagerly.
“Very soon, Dottie. As soon as we get her in perfect running condition. You shall be the first to ride with us, I promise you.”
“Where do you cook and eat? How do you see out? How about the air and water supply? How do you keep warm, or cool, as the case may be?” asked the girl’s father, as though he were cross-examining a witness.
“Shiro has a galley on the main floor, and tables fold up into the wall of the main compartment. The passengers see out by sliding back steel panels, which normally cover the windows. The pilot can see in any direction from his seat at the instrument-board, by means of special instruments, something like periscopes. The windows are made of optical glass similar to that used in the largest telescopes. They are nearly as thick as the hull and have a compressive resistance almost equal to that of armor steel. Although so thick, they are crystal clear, and a speck of dust on the outer surface is easily seen. We have water enough in tanks to last us three months, or indefinitely if we should have to be careful, as we can automatically distill and purify all our waste water, recovering absolutely pure H2O. We have compressed air, also in tanks, but we need very little, as the air is constantly being purified. Also, we have oxygen-generating apparatus aboard, in case we should run short. As to keeping warm, we have electric heating coils, run by the practically inexhaustible power of a small metal bar. If we get too near the sun and get too warm, we have a refrigerating machine to cool us off. Anything else?”
“You’d better give up, Dad,” laughingly advised his daughter. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you, Dick?”
“Mart has, I think. This is all his doing, you know. I wouldn’t have thought of a tenth of it, myself.”
“I must remind you young folks,” said the older man, glancing at his watch, “that it is very late and high time for Dottie and me to be going home. We would like to stay and see the rest of it, but you know we must be away from here before daylight.”
* * * *
As they went into the house Vaneman asked:
“What does the other side of the moon look like? I have always been curious about it.”
“We were not able to see much,” replied Crane “It was too dark and we did not take the time to explore it, but from what we could see by means of our searchlights it is very much like this side—the most barren and desolate place imaginable. After we go to Mars, we intend to explore the moon thoroughly.”
“Mars, then, is your first goal? When do you intend to start?”
“We haven’t decided definitely. Probably in a day or two. Everything is ready now.”
As the Vanemans had come out in the street car, in order to attract as little attention as possible, Seaton volunteered to take them home in one of Crane’s cars. As they bade Crane goodnight after enjoying Shiro’s “suitable refreshment” the lawyer took the chauffeur’s seat, motioning his daughter and Seaton into the closed body of the car. As soon as they had started Dorothy turned in the embrace of her lover’s arm.
“Dick,” she said fiercely. “I would have been worried sick if I had known that you were way off there.”
“I knew it, sweetheart. That’s why I didn’t tell you we were going. We both knew the Skylark was perfectly safe, but I knew that you would worry about our first trip. Now that we have been to the moon you won’t be uneasy when we go to Mars, will you, dear?”
“I can’t help it, boy. I will be afraid that something terrible has happened, every minute. Won’t you take me with you? Then, if anything happens, it will happen to both of us, and that is as it should be. You know that I wouldn’t want to keep on living if anything should happen to you.”
He put both arms around her as his reply, and pressed his cheek to hers.
“Dorothy sweetheart, I know exactly how you feel. I feel the same way myself. I’m awfully sorry, dear, but I can’t do it. I know the machine is safe, but I’ve got to prove it to everybody else before I take you on a long trip with me. Your father will agree with me that you ought not