planets. These could deliver a thrust far more powerful
than those early ones.

For long distances they used a type of "warping" that made the ship
"skip" along the lines of force that permeate all space. Hanlon had
never quite got it firmly fixed in his mind just how this was done,
especially the technique of the engines that made it possible. That was
"advanced stuff" that the cadets were not taught in their regular
courses--it was Post Graduate work for those who were to become
Engineering Masters.

As he went up the escalator into the ship Hanlon was met at the outer
lock by a deck steward who led him toward the level where his cabin was
located.

This was Hanlon's first time aboard one of these luxury liners--how
different the deep-piled rugs, the magnificently frescoed passageway
walls, the deeply upholstered furniture, from the utilitarian plainness
of the Corps' warships on which he had made his practice cruises.

"As you may know, sir," the steward said as they walked along, "there is
neither night nor day in space, but we use Terran time on the ship, and
lights are turned on and off to conform to the regular Terran day.
Breakfast is served from seven to nine, luncheon from twelve to
fourteen, and dinner from eighteen to twenty-one."

"Thanks." A credit note changed from hand to hand--tipping was still in
style. The obsequious steward gave him further directions for finding
the games and recreational rooms, and other points of interest aboard.

Hanlon unpacked, and stored his luggage in the compact closets and then,
having heard the first and second warnings, hastened to the observation
desk, to watch the take-off. He had barely reached it and been strapped
into the acceleration chair turned to face the long, narrow quartzite
port, when the blast-off sirens began screaming their third and final
warning.

The intra-ship communicators blared, "All passengers and
personnel strap in. Five minutes until blast-off ... four
minutes ... three ... two ... one ... thirty seconds ...
fifteen ... ten ... five, four, three, two, one, BLAST!"

Dimly heard through the insulated hull was what Hanlon knew to be a
tremendous crescendo roar of sound, and he was pushed deep into the
resilient spring-cushions of his chair. A constricting band seemed to be
clamped on his chest, while at the same time there was a curious feeling
that he should weigh less but didn't. That was the peculiar sensation
the combination of anti-g