NEXT
DOOR,
NEXT
WORLD
By ROBERT
DONALD
LOCKE
Almost any phenomenon can beused—or act—for good or ill.Mutation usually brings ill—butit also brings greatness. Changecan go any direction.
Illustrated by Douglas
ungrily, the cradledvessel's great steel nosepointed up to the distantstars. She was theCosmos XII, newestand sleekest of the Space Service'srapidly-expanding wing of interstellarscout ships, and she was nowready for operational work.
Major Lance Cooper, a big manwith space-tanned features, stood inthe shadow of the control bunkerand watched the swarm of groundcrewmen working at last-minutespeed atop the loading tower. Insidehim burned a hunger, too.
Hunger, and another emotion—pride.
The pride swelled Lance's open-collaredkhaki shirt, as he envisionedhimself at the ship's controls withina few minutes. Finally, after longyears of study, sweat and dedication,he'd made it to the Big League. Nomore jockeying those tubby old rocket-potsto Luna! From here on, hewas going to see, taste, feel what theuniverse was like way, way out—inDeep Space. The Cosmos XII, likeher earlier sisters, was designed toplow through that shuddery nowherethe cookbooks identified as "hyperspace."
Lance's glance shifted upward,scanning the velvet backdrop offrosty white points of light againstwhich the slender, silverish, almostwingless form stood framed. Morestars than a man could visit in a lifetime!And some already withingrasp!
His exultant feeling grew, andLance kept his head tilted backward.Alpha Centauri, the most populartarget, was not visible at this latitude;and Barnard's star, besides being fartoo faint, lay on the other side of thesun. But there shone Sirius, just asbright as it had glittered for theGreeks, and frosty Procyon, a little tothe north. Both orbs twinkled andbeckoned, evoking strange and demandingdreams!
One day, Man would be able tomake landings. Teams of scientistsoutfitted to the eyebrows and trainedto cope with any environment oremergency, would explore unknownjungles, llanos, steppes; tramp upand down fertile vales and hills underblue-hot alien suns. Perhaps, theymight even contact native speciesboasting human intelligence: mammalianhunters and fishers, city-buildinglizards, sky-probing arachnids—whoknew what?
But now, of course, all that Headquarterspermitted of flights was themost furtive of reconnoitering. Youhoisted your scout ship aloft underhigh-gee, cleared the ecliptic, thenswung out of normal space andjumped. When you materialized inthe new sector, you set your camerasclicking, toggled all the other instrumentsinto recording radiation, gravitypressures, spectroscopy, at slam-bangspeed. The very instant yourmagnetic tapes got crammed to capacity,you pressed six dozen panicbuttons and scooted like a scaredjackrabbit for Home, Sweet Home.
Adventure? It wasn't even mentionedon the travel posters, yet.
But, adventure would follow.
Some day.
Meanwhile, at the taxpayers' expense,you—the guardian of thePeace—had enjoyed the billion-dollarthrill of viewing our Solar Systemfrom light-years and light-years ofdistance. Or so the manual said, righthere on Insert Page 30-Dash-11-Dash-