Max told him, drawing on his memory for the figures. Kelly nodded at last. "That confirms what I've been able to dig out. The Captain flubbed with a transposition--easy to do. Then Simes didn't have the guts to make a big correction when it came around to him. But one more thing you don't know. Neither do they--yet."
"Huh? What?"
"The power room recorder shows it. Guenther had the watch down there and gave it to me over the phone. No, I didn't tell him anything was wrong. I just asked for the record; that's not unusual. By the way, any excitement down below? Passengers blowing their tops?"
"Not when I came up."
"Won't be long. They can't keep this quiet forever. Back to my story--things were already sour but the Captain had one last chance. He applied the correction and a whopping big one. But he applied it with the wrong sign, just backwards."
Profanity was too weak. All Max could say was, "Oh, my!"
"Yeah. Well, there's the devil to pay and him out to lunch."
"Any idea where we are?"
Kelly pointed to Kovak and Smythe at the spectrostellograph. "They're fishing, but no bites. Bright stars first, B-types and O's. But there is nothing that matches the catalogues so far."
Noguchi and Lundy were using a hand camera. Max asked, "What are _they_ doing?"
"Photographing the records. All of 'em--programming sheets, the rough data from the chartsmen, the computer tape, everything."
"What good will that do?"
"Maybe none. But sometimes records get lost. Sometimes they even get changed. But not this time. I'm going to have a set of my own."
The unpleasant implications of Kelly's comments were sinking into Max's mind when Noguchi looked up. "That's all, Boss."
"Good." Kelly turned to Max. "Do me a favor. Stick those films in your pocket and take them with you. I want them out of here. I'll pick them up later."
"Well ... all right." While Noguchi was unloading the camera Max added to Kelly, "How long do you think it will take to figure out where we are, checking spectra?"
Kelly looked more troubled than ever. "Max, what makes you think there is anything to find?"
"I don't follow you."
"Why should anything out there ..." He made a sweeping gesture. "... match up with any charts we've got here?"
"You mean," Max said slowly, "that we might not be in our own galaxy at all? Maybe in another, like the Andromeda Nebula, say?"
"Maybe. But that's not all. Look, Max, I'm no theoretical physicist, that's sure, but so far as I know all that theory says is that when you pass the speed of light you have to go out of your own space, somewhere else. You've become irrelevant and it won't hold you. But _where_ you go, unless you are set just right for a Horst congruency, that's another matter. The theory doesn't say. Does it?"
Max's head started to ache. "Gee, I don't know."
"Neither do I. But since we weren't set to duck back into our own space at another point, we may be anywhere. And I mean _anywhere_. We may be in some other space-time totally unconnected with our own." He glanced up at the strange stars.
Max went below feeling worse than ever. He passed Simes going up; the Astrogator scowled at him but did not say anything. When Max reached his stateroom he put the films in a drawer--then thought about it, removed the drawer and cached them in dead space behind the drawer.
Max stayed in his room and worried. He fretted over being kept out of the control room, wanting very badly himself to check the sky for known stars. B- and O-type stars--well, that was all right, but there were half a dozen other ways. Globular star clusters, now-- they'd be easy to identify; snag four of them and you'd know where you were as clear as reading a street sign. Then it would be just a case of fining it down, because you'd know what to look for and where. After which you'd high-tail it for the nearest charted congruency, whether it took you a week or a year. The ship couldn't _really_ be lost.
But suppose they weren't even in the right galaxy?
The thought dismayed him. If that were the case, they'd never get home before the end of time. It was chased out by another thought--suppose Kelly's suspicion had been correct, that this was an entirely different universe, another system of space and time? What then? He had read enough philosophical fancies to know that there was no theoretical reason for such to be impossible; the Designer might have created an infinity of universes, perhaps all pretty much alike--or perhaps as different as cheese and Wednesday. Millions, billions of them, all side by side from a multidimensional point of view.
Another universe might have different laws, a different speed of light, different gravitational ballistics, a different time rate--why they might get back to find that ten million years had passed and Earth burnt to a cinder!
But the light over his desk burned steadily, his heart pumped as always, obeying familiar laws of hydraulics, his chair pressed up against him--if this was a different sort of space the differences weren't obvious. And if it _was_ a different universe, there was nothing to be done about it.
A knock came at the door, he let Kelly in and gave him the chair, himself sitting on the bed. "Any news?"
"No. Golly I'm tired. Got those pix?"
Max took out the drawer, fished around behind it, gave them to Kelly. "Look, Chief, I got an idea."
"Spill it."
"Let's assume that we're in the right galaxy, because--"
"Because if we ain't, there isn't any point in trying!"
"Well, yes. All right, we're in the Milky Way. So we look around, make quick sample star counts and estimate the distance and direction of the center. Then we try to identify spectra of stars in that direction, after deciding what ones we ought to look for and figuring apparent magnitudes for estimated distance. That would ..."
"--save a lot of time," Kelly finished wearily. "Don't teach your grandpop how to suck eggs. What the deuce do you think I've been doing?"
"Oh. Sorry."
"Don't be. It's more than our revered boss thought of. While I been trying to work he's been bellyachin' around, finding fault, and trying to get me to say that he was dead right in everything--worrying about himself instead of worrying about his ship. Pfui! By the way, he grabbed the records just like I thought he would--'to show the Captain.' _He_ says." Kelly stood up. "I'd better go."
"Don't rush. I'll ring for coffee."
"Running out of my ears now." Kelly took the films from his pocket and looked at them dutifully. "I had Noggy make two shots of everything; this is a double set. That's a good hidey-hole you've got. What say we stick one set in there and let it cool? Never can tell."
"Kelly, you aren't really expecting trouble over those records? Seems to me we've got trouble enough with the ship being lost."
"Huh? Max, you're going to make a good officer some day. But you're innocent. Now I'm a suspenders _and_ belt man. I like to take as few chances as possible. Doc Hendrix--rest his soul!--was the same way." Kelly waited until Max had returned the spare set to the space back of the drawer, then started to leave. He paused.
"One thing I forgot to tell you, Max. We happened to come out pretty close to a star and a G-type at that."
"Oh." Max considered it. "Not one we know?"
"Of course not, or I would have said so. Haven't sized it yet, but figuring normal range in the G's we could reach it in not less than four weeks, not more than a year, at high boost. Thought you'd like to know."
"Well, yes. Thanks. But I can't see that it makes much difference."
"No? Doesn't it seem like a good idea to have a Sol-type star, with maybe Earth-type planets around it, not far off?"