AVOIDANCE SITUATION
BY JAMES MC CONNELL
What can a man do when he alone
must decide the fate of Earth and all
its people—and when the choices
offered him are slavery and death....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, February 1956.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Captain Allen Hawkins stood quietly in the observation room of theSunward looking out at subspace. He was a medium-sized man with atrim squareness to him that suggested he had been in the military mostof his life. He had a good deal of gold on his sleeve and a good dealof silver in his hair, and he had discovered in his many years in theSpace Navy that the two usually went hand in hand. In the background hecould hear the noise and ordered confusion of the ship's bridge. Butat the moment he paid it little attention, concentrating instead on theobservation window.
It was not the first time that he had stood thus, gazing at whateverlay beyond the shell of the ship. Almost every time he had put theSunward through the dark shadow of subspace, he had deserted thebridge for at least a few moments to come and stare out the window.
"God," he said out loud, repressing a shiver that wanted to crawl downhis spine.
"Perhaps 'God forsaken' would be a better description," came a voicefrom behind him.
The voice belonged to Dr. J. L. Broussard, the Sunward's seniorpsychologist. And although the two men were on more than casuallyfriendly terms, Hawkins didn't turn to greet him. The fascination ofthe observation port seemed to obviate the normal requirements ofcourtesy. "At times like this I think you're right. 'God forsaken.'That's just what it is," Hawkins said. "Completely black, completelyempty. You know, it frightens me every time we make the jump throughit."
A voice from the bridge called out, "Twelve minutes until zero. Nonoticeable deviations, Captain."
"Very well," Hawkins said loudly enough to be heard on the bridge.
"Perhaps it frightens all of us just a little," said Broussard. Heleaned his oversized body against the observation room wall. His big,mild face had a relaxed look to it. "I wonder why it affects us thatway," he added almost as if it were a casual afterthought, but his eyeshad a too-shrewd look to them.
"You're the psychologist. You tell me why," Hawkins said. He paused forjust a moment, expecting Broussard to reply. But after a few secondswhen the man gave him no conversational support, Hawkins continued."For my part, I guess it frightens me because—well, because a manseems to get lost out there. In normal space there are always starsaround, no matter how distant they may be, and you feel that you've gotdirection and location. In subspace, all you've got is nothing—andone hell of a lot of that." He pushed his cap back until it perchedcomfortably on the rear of his head. "It's incredible when you stopto think about it. An area—an opening as big as the whole of ouruniverse, big enough to pack every galaxy we've ever seen in it andstill have lots of room left over. All that space—and not a singleatom of matter in it anywhere." Captain Hawkins shook his grayed headin wonder. "At least," he went on. "Not a single atom in it until wecame barging in to use it as a short cut across our own universe."
The man on the bridge called out, "Ten minutes until zero. Nonoticeable deviations, Captain."
"Very well," Hawkins answered.