so long forbidden under Pax was heady excitement for the world.
Research and discovery became feverish avenues of endeavor. Even the
slim hope of a successful star voyage and the return to Terra with
such rich spoils of information was enough to harness three quarters
of the planet's energy for close to a hundred years. And if the _RS
10_ was not successful, there would be _11_, _12_, more--flaming into
the sky and out into the void, unless some newer and more intriguing
experiment developed to center public imagination in another
direction.

Raf's eyes closed wearily. Soon the gong would sound and this period
of rest would be officially ended. But it was hardly worth rising. He
was not in the least hungry for the concentrated food. He could repeat
the information tapes they carried dull word for dull word.

"Nothing to see--nothing but these blasted walls!" Again Wonstead's
voice arose in querulous protest.

Yes, while in overdrive there was nothing to see. The ports of the
ship would be sealed until they were in normal space once more. That
is, if it worked and they were not caught up forever within this thick
trap where there was no time, light, or distance.

The gong sounded, but Raf made no move to rise. He heard Wonstead
move, saw from the corner of his eye the other's bulk heave up
obediently from the pad.

"Hey--mess gong!" He pointed out the obvious to Raf.

With a sigh the other levered himself up on his elbows. If he did not