he should say or do next.

Finally, he put forth a faltering question: "Is there any way I can get
back to Home Base? _My_ home base?"

All three officers in the room shook their heads in unison.

"You might as well look for a pebble in the beach," said Nordsen. He
elucidated: "As a matter of fact, this _is_ Home Base for you. The
differences between one track and another are not usually too great; the
resemblances are many. Sometimes even, the returned pilot accommodates
himself to the new time-track without suspecting in the slightest what's
happened to him."

"And in those cases, you seldom bother to enlighten him, I suppose."

"Naturally not. Security frowns on it."

"But in my case, you couldn't cover up."

"Your case manifests a much more serious slippage. Your path,
evidently, warped to a track several million or billion worlds further
over than anybody from your world had previously experienced.
Consequently, your luck has really been unfortunate. You've materialized
out of hyperspace into a universe where someone you apparently knew
quite closely simply was never born."

[Illustration]

"But Carolyn did exist before ... where I was? I'm not dreaming."

"No. Both our worlds are equally real."

* * * * *

Lance, though he felt the truth slowly and inexorably sink in, still
could not quite grasp all its implications. He turned his numbed face to
the other two officers in the room. Colonel Sagen and Major Carmody
inclined their heads.

For one despairing moment, Lance felt almost like hurling himself
through the window. Then, he straightened up. His mouth compressed into
a thin line. "If I must face the facts, I must. But," his tone edged off
into irony, "it sure isn't easy. You'll have to give me time."

Colonel Nordsen stood up, held out his hand. "I'm sorry, major, believe
me. This is a hard blow to take and I wouldn't care to be on the
receiving end, myself. But you'll adjust. If you like, I'll recommend
you for convalescent leave. You understand, of course," the psychiatrist
went on, "that we expect you to keep tight-lipped. Our hype-classes are
still too small. We need a lot of sharp men, and they have to be
volunteers. Right, Colonel Sagen?"

"Right."

Lance dropped the proffered hand. "I get it. Let the word get around how
hyperspace messes you up, all your bright young jets will bug out on it.
That's your main worry, isn't it? Not what happens to me."

"