htest emotion at its use, only cold,
mechanical efficiency. The curving prow of Dreadnought, insane
metallic smile, pushed forward at the mark, and was wrapped in a clear
sheen of brilliance.

To a suddenly humbled engineering vessel that viewed this passage from
the side (though itself a work of successive human genius), it appeared
indeed a magician's trick: the monstrous vessel was reduced by small
fractions. Length was seduced, and did not reappear. And then the
thrusting phallus was gone. The framework was all that remained.

Aboard the carrier the rush of scintillating motion had begun. Even
those crews aboard ships within the great ship, their minds bent
forward in preparation for combat, could feel the sudden thrill of
weightless, bodiless movement, and taste the ghoulish hum that began at
low, convulsive pitch, then rose through noteless octaves, whirling,
then whining high and unbearable, then gone beyond the range of hearing.

Aboard the vessel only Hayes seemed unmoved by the lightless passage,
like falling down a colossal well to the heart of a venomous, robotoid
planet. All ship's power was lost, and in that phantom black those who
did not already grip at chair and support-beam bent to their knees as
if in prayer for deliverance.

But not Hayes. In his mind, he descended into Hell like the crucified
Christ, whose lanced breast had flowed blood and water of forgiveness.
Except that Hayes did not forgive. For soon he would rise again,
invincible.

True to the hollow-world metaphor, the ship, upon reaching the center
of its plunge, passed through and slowed gradually, and sensation
became more bearable. The witch-sound returned with its screeching
whine; but soon the worst was passed. And like the short-lived fright
of the daring child, who has pumped and pulled the playground swing to
its highest arc and is suddenly weightless, cast loose from the normal
laws of earth, feels a moment's fear, but then with the rush of
downward motion again feels himself a conqueror, who has faced the
darkness unafraid, so the men of the Third Fleet, once more surviving
the nightmare world, felt themselves strong and hard, little boys
afraid of nothing, marching boldly toward their moment of destiny and
schoolyard fight.

And all at once their power returned. On the re-lighted bridge men
quickly assumed martial attitudes, and those whose functions allowed it
watched the screens. Another silvery sheet appear