“I’m afraid that the anomaly is a kind of gate that still connects us with our mother world,” Star said huskily.
“I still believe that it was natural in origin, but I’m afraid that it has been enlarged or opened by some application of intelligent technology.”
“You mean—” Old Habibula stopped to shudder, clutching at his bottle as if it had been some talisman of safety.
“You mean that wicked machine—and that bubble of dreadful darkness—”
“I’m very much afraid that the machine is an invader.” Star’s voice was faint and bleak.
“I’m afraid that the bubble is the visible aspect of the opening interspatial gate through which it came.
I’m afraid we must face a hostile technology that has been evolving four times longer than our space-time universe—”
The mess hall door burst open.
Ketzler came tottering in.
His face was white beneath a long smear of blood.
His right hand was clutched against his side, and blood oozed between his fingers.
“Mutiny, sir—” His voice was a bubbling sob, and bright blood trickled down his chin.
“Most of the crew—even Gina Lorth.
They’ve got—control drum—docks. I guess—guess they just couldn’t take Nowhere—not any more!”
Swaying, he clutched at a table.
“Something—worse, sir!” His voice thickened and broke.
“That black bubble—more fighting machines—I was just going to call you, when they hit me—”
He blinked and peered as if his sight were fading.
“Wha—what can we do, sir?”
He crumpled to the floor.
8 The Absolute—Zero!
Resistance to the mutineers, such as it was, had ceased by the time Ketzler reached the mess hall.
The leaders were the disgruntled veterans who had wanted to leave with Captain Scabbard.
Their only real opposition, apparently, came from Ketzler and the lock sergeant, Vralik.
Vralik died defending the locks.
The attack on Ketzler in the control center had been made only to cover the flight of the mutineers.
By the time I reached the ice asteroid from the full-G ring, they were gone.
They had blown up our position rockets, wrecked the fire-control gear of our old proton guns, and looted the station safe.
They smashed the pilot computer in one of our two emergency rockets, and took off in the other.
The outbreak must have been set off by news of the invaders, because it showed more panic than plan.
The mutineers took too many persons aboard a rocket built for only twelve.
They left crates of supplies and drums of reserve fuel stacked in the dock.
They killed Vralik needlessly—a letter I found in his pocket showed that he had meant to join the plot.
Though I saw no hope for them, I couldn’t help wishing them well.
The name of Gina Lorth brought me a painful throb of regret.
I had been fond of her once.
We had come out to the station on the same relief ship, both very young, devoted to the Legion and eager for adventure.
A native-born mutineer, even then Gina had what she called a thing against authority.
The raw cadet, I had been a fellow rebel until my first promotion began to turn her against me.
Sadly, I had watched time dim her bright vitality and the dark spell of Nowhere put out her daring gaiety.
I felt sorry Gina was gone.
Seven of us were left on Nowhere Near—seven counting Ketzler and the two injured men from the Quasar Quest.
Cool and deft and still alluring, Lilith helped us care for Ketzler. She gave him efficient first aid.
Later, in the station hospital, she dressed his wounds and administered a tiny jet-injection.
“A drop of Giles’ serum,” she said.
“It cost the Legion five million.
It ought to heal his wounds—and add a good ten years to his normal life.”
Nothing had been damaged in the north observatory.
I found Ken Star ahead of me there, a gaunt slight ghost moving unsteadily about the red loom and gleam of the electron telescope.
No telescope was needed to tell me how fast that bubble of blackness had been growing.