as well."
"Interesting comment, Richard, 'good heavens.' What makes us associate the two?" Ian muttered as if musing to himself. "Must be medieval tradition and concepts. The heavens aren't good, Richard, they'll kill you in an in stant. Just think, man, we've got this thin wall"—he tapped the side of the hull, which echoed hollow in the room. "That and an ethereal force field beyond are our only protection as we slip by at translight speed. Think if the nav system miscalculated and ran us up on a chunk of rock bigger than my fist, you wouldn't have 'good heav ens' then."
"Stop trying to make me paranoid, too," Richard mut tered. And with his eyes fixed on the hull behind Ian, he washed down another swallow of gin.
"But don't worry about it," Ian said with a soft smile, obviously pleased that he had caused a spark of fear in the usually unflappable Richard. "If it did happen there would be such a tremendous flash of energy that we would be vaporized before our synapses could register one screaming instant of fear."
"Aren't you comforting. "
As if in response, a faint shudder ran through the vessel and Richard winced. lan's heart skipped a beat, but he tried not to show it. The translight nav system worked after all, even while they were talking; sensing an ap proaching obstacle, it had shifted them around the mass, the inertia-damping system compensating for all but a fraction of the lateral forces.
"Shall we return to what you were saying?" Richard said softly.
"Ah, yes, my fears of the hostile universe. After all, if one is going to be afraid, why not make it a really big fear? Why not fear the whole universe? Tell me, good doctor, is there a word in your lexicon for an abnormal fear of the entire universe?"
Richard wasn't sure if Ian was joking or not, and he thought it best at this point not to find out.
"Do you mean a fear of alien life forms?"
"Perhaps. Remember, Doctor, we've only had faster- than-light travel for the last ten years. In fact, in this obsolete first-generation hulk, we will be venturing out farther than anyone from our century has dared, so far. Maybe we'll meet aliens, but I must confess that I doubt it. No, Richard, I'm sorry to say that I think we here at the far end of his neglected corner of the cosmos are truly alone."
"So what else is there?"
"Ourselves."
"You mean Ellen or Stasz or, heaven forbid, that as sistant of yours. You think that kid is going to get seized by a transport of sexual frenzy and murder everyone else so that she can have you to herself." Richard chuckled slightly at the image of lan's acned assistant suddenly unchained of her prim and proper nature, and as the image flowed, he realized that in fact it could be quite interest ing.
"Come now, Richard. Shelley sees nothing in me. Our relationship is purely professional. I needed an assistant to manage my data during this trip, and since she wrote the damned grant, I figured she'd be the one to do it. But let's get serious now. When I said ' ourselves ,' I meant it collectively."
"You mean those already out there."
"Precisely, Richard. We've set off on this voyage to find the Lost Colonies. 'Lost Colonies.' Lost by who's definition? They left us, didn't they? Have any of them come back?"
"No. At least, not that we know of."
"Then are they really lost? Damn it, man, it's not like some sixteenth-century sailor getting lost in the Pacific. The colonies left us of their own free will—they left us of their own free will, and maybe they don't want anything to do with us."
"I think that thought's a little foolish," Richard re sponded. "After nearly eleven centuries they most likely would be damn glad to get at least one letter from home."
"Maybe they would, but I'm fearful that some might not want us to drop in for a visit."
"Then if that's the case, we'll just thumb our noses, hook on the translight drive, and tell them to eat our cosmic dust."
"Don't be so superior about it. That's the biggest trap of all in
"Interesting comment, Richard, 'good heavens.' What makes us associate the two?" Ian muttered as if musing to himself. "Must be medieval tradition and concepts. The heavens aren't good, Richard, they'll kill you in an in stant. Just think, man, we've got this thin wall"—he tapped the side of the hull, which echoed hollow in the room. "That and an ethereal force field beyond are our only protection as we slip by at translight speed. Think if the nav system miscalculated and ran us up on a chunk of rock bigger than my fist, you wouldn't have 'good heav ens' then."
"Stop trying to make me paranoid, too," Richard mut tered. And with his eyes fixed on the hull behind Ian, he washed down another swallow of gin.
"But don't worry about it," Ian said with a soft smile, obviously pleased that he had caused a spark of fear in the usually unflappable Richard. "If it did happen there would be such a tremendous flash of energy that we would be vaporized before our synapses could register one screaming instant of fear."
"Aren't you comforting. "
As if in response, a faint shudder ran through the vessel and Richard winced. lan's heart skipped a beat, but he tried not to show it. The translight nav system worked after all, even while they were talking; sensing an ap proaching obstacle, it had shifted them around the mass, the inertia-damping system compensating for all but a fraction of the lateral forces.
"Shall we return to what you were saying?" Richard said softly.
"Ah, yes, my fears of the hostile universe. After all, if one is going to be afraid, why not make it a really big fear? Why not fear the whole universe? Tell me, good doctor, is there a word in your lexicon for an abnormal fear of the entire universe?"
Richard wasn't sure if Ian was joking or not, and he thought it best at this point not to find out.
"Do you mean a fear of alien life forms?"
"Perhaps. Remember, Doctor, we've only had faster- than-light travel for the last ten years. In fact, in this obsolete first-generation hulk, we will be venturing out farther than anyone from our century has dared, so far. Maybe we'll meet aliens, but I must confess that I doubt it. No, Richard, I'm sorry to say that I think we here at the far end of his neglected corner of the cosmos are truly alone."
"So what else is there?"
"Ourselves."
"You mean Ellen or Stasz or, heaven forbid, that as sistant of yours. You think that kid is going to get seized by a transport of sexual frenzy and murder everyone else so that she can have you to herself." Richard chuckled slightly at the image of lan's acned assistant suddenly unchained of her prim and proper nature, and as the image flowed, he realized that in fact it could be quite interest ing.
"Come now, Richard. Shelley sees nothing in me. Our relationship is purely professional. I needed an assistant to manage my data during this trip, and since she wrote the damned grant, I figured she'd be the one to do it. But let's get serious now. When I said ' ourselves ,' I meant it collectively."
"You mean those already out there."
"Precisely, Richard. We've set off on this voyage to find the Lost Colonies. 'Lost Colonies.' Lost by who's definition? They left us, didn't they? Have any of them come back?"
"No. At least, not that we know of."
"Then are they really lost? Damn it, man, it's not like some sixteenth-century sailor getting lost in the Pacific. The colonies left us of their own free will—they left us of their own free will, and maybe they don't want anything to do with us."
"I think that thought's a little foolish," Richard re sponded. "After nearly eleven centuries they most likely would be damn glad to get at least one letter from home."
"Maybe they would, but I'm fearful that some might not want us to drop in for a visit."
"Then if that's the case, we'll just thumb our noses, hook on the translight drive, and tell them to eat our cosmic dust."
"Don't be so superior about it. That's the biggest trap of all in
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