Spike and Tad seemed unaffected. They went to use the restroom. When they returned, Galen was somewhat relaxed. Galen saw Spike floating and mused over how even in zero-G, he seemed to be leaning on something, totally calm. Tad, of course, was performing gymnastics and trying as quickly as possible to develop a talent for floating. When Galen left the weapons station to visit the head, Tad was altering the speed of his body’s axial rotation by extending his arms to slow down, then bringing them in to allow himself to spin faster.
When Galen got back to the weapons station the hatchway wouldn’t open. It was locked. Galen beat on the door and could hear a rude voice coming over the intercom inside, “You got ten seconds to get that gun under control or I’ll de-pressurize your cabin!” Ten seconds later, the lock disengaged. Galen opened the hatch and floated in.
“What happened while I was gone?”
“We decided to get out our high-G pads for the deceleration towards the jump point,” said Spike.
“Somehow we let them float around too much. They bumped into the panel and activated the fire control system. That guy on the bridge got pretty hot about it. Anyhow, we’ll have about two minutes of half-G to get organized before full deceleration, meaning two Gs, sets in.”
“Oh,” said Galen.
An insistent beating came at the hatchway. It was the steward. “Here. Normally we don’t give these to military passengers, usually it isn’t necessary. Read it.” He handed Galen a single-page pamphlet entitled ‘Tips on Space Travel’ before he left, closing the hatch behind him.
“Now they tell us.”
It took six hours for the drop ship to reach the turnaround point, then another four hours of constant, non-stop deceleration at two Gs for it to reach the jump point.
The rest of the passengers floated freely about the drop ship while it waited at the jump point but the ship’s steward kept the hatchway to weapon station two secured. Galen wished he knew what was going on, wished he could peer out into the endless expanse of space. The viewport of the weapons station was covered at the moment and it would require the forbidden act of powering up the fire control system to open the blast shield.
Galen couldn’t sleep without gravity. Tad floated about the chamber, legs bent into a sitting position and his arms bent at the elbows, hands forward, like a mindless undead creature reaching for something.
Spike slept on his mat, strapped flat on his back to the floor by some elastic cords he found in the stowage compartment. Galen hadn’t slept more than a few winks over the past ten hours, catching naps during the one G burns but not sleeping at all during the two G deceleration. He just couldn’t.
Finally the klaxon sounded to warn the passengers that the jump was about to take place. Galen grabbed hold of the handles at either side of his seat and braced himself. Spike remained strapped to the floor, and Tad grabbed a beam spanning the ceiling.
Spike said, “Why’d they have to wake me up for this? I’m secured right here on the floor.”
“Not everybody is as secure as you,” said Tad.
“Not everybody can sleep out here in space,” said Galen.
Moments later the ship pushed into the point created by its jump point generator. Galen watched with curiosity as his reality was compressed into nothing and then expanded to infinity. For him, time stood still and ceased to exist. He felt nausea. Then all sensation left him. He was enveloped in darkness, his body left him and he had nothing but his own thoughts. So he thought, and thought and thought some more. He wished he had something to look at, something to feel, some way of writing things down, and someone to talk to. After one eternity he fought boredom by exploring exponential growth. He multiplied two by itself again and again, reaching farther and farther each time. He thought about the meaning of life for another eternity. Next he tried to find the end of pi, finding the end of twenty two divided by seven but wished he had an accurate measure of a circumference to divide by its diameter.
On it went, an infinite amount of time to ponder, existing as mere consciousness. A lesser man might have gone insane from boredom, thought Galen, but he held on to his concept of reality. He remembered the joy and suffering of his corporal life, pondered his true purpose, and simply waited patiently, for an eternity, for his own theory of personal actual existence to be proven.
Suddenly he was blasted with sensation. Bright searing light blazed into his tightly-closed eyes. His body was racked with sensation, pain, and when he screamed for the first time in an eternity his ears hurt. His mind hurt.
“Galen, what’s wrong?” he heard someone say. Spike, he remembered. Then his mind shut down, overloaded with sensory input.
Chapter Three
Spike and Tad carried Galen when he came out of unconsciousness, an arm draped around each of their necks as they walked him to a booth at the spaceport bar.
“What happened?” Galen said.
Spike said, “You’re one of the lucky few individuals who experience a jump space syndrome, something like that. You’ve been out for two days. The ship’s medical technicians gave us something to revive you, but because you found space travel so disagreeable we decided to leave you in the infirmary, knocked out until the ride was over.”
“You got a couple of hours to get your head together before we meet our liaison. So, drink up and celebrate!”
Galen spoke, “We do not exist to simply indulge in leisure, to imbibe in harmful elixirs simply for pleasure. We must work hard, work together to-”
Spike cut him off, “We were told you’d talk like that for awhile. Now take my advice, trust me as a friend. Drink your ale and just relax. You can’t be all wigged out when the liaison meets us. They want warriors, not philosophers.”
“Yes, life is so simple for you, when you are caught up in its complexities. My challenge to you is introspection, look—”
“Shut up,” said Tad.
“But I have so much to tell you, so much wisdom to impart. Why do you not want to hear about the meaning of life? The purpose of the cosmos?” Galen was sure his friends were hooked by his opening statement.
Spike said, “Because we don’t want to become babbling idiots. Now you just sit here and act like us, and don’t think!”
Galen sat and studied reality, enjoyed the warm comfort of companions, relished the flavor and effect of the ale. That’s why he came back from eternity. He came back to reality for camaraderie. This was home, any place with people, actually any place with life. Galen was amazed how in only a few seconds he was able to figure himself out when an eternity hadn’t been long enough. A few deep thoughts slipped away, his mind letting go of the mighty concepts it had been holding. He was back, satisfied more than ever before.
“I propose a toast,” said Galen, raising his third glass of ale.
“Only if it ain’t to some transcendental number,” said Spike.
“It’s great to be back, you don’t know how long I’ve been gone,” said Galen.
“Toast,” said Spike and Tad, downing their drinks and slamming their glasses on the table along with Galen.
“Now let’s go find that liaison,” said Galen.
They left the bar and walked down a wide corridor, passed under a large sign that said, “Welcome to Mandarin Space.” They came to a set of gates blocking the corridor. They were labeled “Mandarin Citizens, Planetary,” “Confederation Citizens, (off-planet),” “Tourists,” and several other classifications. Finally Galen noticed the one marked “Military” and headed for it. It was controlled by a government army M.P. who stopped them and said, “You have the option of going through regular civil customs or my checkpoint. However, once you consent to this gate, you can’t change your mind and go back through another gate. Are you military?”