Man overboard! In his hurry to escape the conniving Dr. Borg’s kidnapping plot, Professor Jonas Jupiter has accidentally ejected himself into space . . . will he be saved before it’s too late?

Jonas felt a hard yank at his waist.

He felt with his hands and found a thick tether attached to his spacesuit. Had someone arrived just in time and saved his life by quickly attaching the safety tether? Or was it a safety device, set to automatically engage in the case of a sudden ejection from the airlock?

It was the latter. He floated awhile, dragged alongside the ship for what felt like an hour before someone hailed him on the commlink in his helmet.

“Professor?” It was Dr. Borg.

“Let me in,” demanded Jonas. “Let me in!”

“I believe we should talk first, while you’re not in a position to do anything drastic.”

“Like what?”

“Like punching me in the face.”

“You had that coming, guy. You can’t mess with a man’s memories, then kidnap him and expect to not get punched in the face.”

“I understand how you must feel, but I would like to make my case while I have a captive audience.”

Jonas was acutely aware that he was floating in an infinitely vast void, billions and trillions of miles deep, moving thousands of miles per second, attached to the Foundation by nothing more than a particularly strong rope. Seeing the stars like this gave Jonas a terribly queasy sense of scale.

“Just say what you want to say, Borg, and make it quick. I’d rather not be out here any longer.”

“Of course,” said Dr. Borg, “Professor, my people and I are refugees. In this galaxy, although your people have not reached far enough to know this, there are hundreds of advanced civilizations, traversing the stars, engaging in trade and conflict. Several of these civilizations formed a Galactic Union in order to establish dominance over the others. They spread their false utopia through manipulation and bribery. They tout access to a vast economy and myriad technological advancements. More civilizations fall for this seduction every year.

“They began courting my people nearly twenty years ago. If it were an outright military conflict I know my people would fight to the last man, but these Union tyrants use manipulative means to convince their victims that they want to join the Union of their own free will, telling tales of improved life and progress through the sharing of technology and resources and commerce.

“Myself and my companions were the only ones able to see through these tactics. We tried to fight the tyrants peaceful, through principles and dialogue . . . but it was too late. Our own people had already turned against us.

“We attempted a truce and a congenial split. We even established a colony on another world but our government would not acknowledge our independence. They demanded we fall in line. When we refused and begged for peace they attacked. Full destruction of their fellow people. They turned our new home into glass and this ship and all my companions on it are the only survivors. In our search for a safe hiding place we ended up near your planet, Earth.”

“Luck you. It’s the greatest planet in the world,” said Jonas, proudly.

“It’s a quiet, unadvanced planet in a mostly dark region of the galaxy surrounded by other simple civilizations not advanced enough to be in the Union. It’s ‘rural’ in other words. Backwards even.”

“Now listen, you!” interrupted Jonas.

Borg ignored him. “Our ship was hobbled. Our engines barely worked. I studied Earth’s technology and science to see if there were any useful resources and I happened across your discovery of the atomic conversation process, which is by far the most advanced thing humanity has ever produced. A fluke, most certainly. To think—you used it to make a fancy bracelet! I hatched my plan to get you on board and goad you into giving us your incredible formula. You really are a diamond in the rough, Jonas Jupiter. Unpolished and uncut, but a diamond nonetheless. Although we had to coerce it from you, your process will allow us to continue our journey for a new home safely, unhindered by limited resources. I believe the ends justify the means. You have saved my people.”

“Fine. I hate the government as much as the next guy, but couldn’t you have sent me back to Earth once I gave you the formula? Why drag me along?” asked Jonas. He was gripping the tether with both hands now. He didn’t feel like he was moving thousands of miles per second, but just knowing he was—and with nothing but thin layers of fabric, metal, and glass between him and the void—was making his stomach churn.

“Perhaps. That was the original plan, but after observing your intemperate and licentious lifestyle, I worried. What if your calculations were off, or your formula was incomplete? What if it was not fully compatible with our engines or power systems? I decided it was safer for my people to keep you on board in case something went awry.

“You affirmed my decision with something you said just before you punched me, Jonas. It was something about not having any friends or loved ones, I think. You’re lonely, aren’t you? There’s no one on Earth waiting, yearning for your return, desperate to find you. There’s nothing for you on Earth. Your laboratory is failing. Your money is dwindling. You haven’t made a major discovery or invention in years. I’m offering you a new life, Jonas. Be the first human to explore the stars. Be the hero my people need-”

“Okay, yes. Yes to everything, just please bring me inside now,” said Jonas.

“Fantastic! Have I convinced you, Jonas? Was it my people’s plight that won you over? Or perhaps my blunt indictment of your status on Earth?” asked Borg.

“No, doc. There’s another ship out here suddenly. So yeah, I’ll do whatever you want. Just bring me inside, please!”

“A ship? Damn!” exclaimed the doctor.

Another ship had appeared suddenly in Jonas’s view. It looked as if it was emerging slowly through the void, but he knew that was an effect of it coming straight on. It was probably moving very fast. It looked like a predator. Many years ago, Jonas had gone spearfishing off a coastal reef. There had been a heavy thunderstorm the night before so the seabed was all churned up and visibility was fairly low. Jonas had just scored a hit on a giant trevally. The fish got away but there was blood in the water. A great white appeared almost immediately. It began as a growing gray shadow in the dark blue background of the ocean. By the time he saw the white underbelly and the gaping mouth it was only a few meters away. Luckily, it swam right past him, more interested in the bleeding fish than the dumbstruck diver. The whole thing was over in three seconds, from shadow to shark and back.

This new ship emerged from the starfield like a predator, but Jonas knew it was not going to just swim past. It was similar in design to the Foundation, shaped like an ‘A’ but with three lines across its center instead of the Foundation’s two. The overall design was more elegant with streamlined edges and a bow that was every bit as pointed as a shark’s snout. Everything about the ship signaled danger.

Jonas felt the tether tug on him as he was winched back inside the ship. It pulled him so fast that when he landed he bounced off the floor of the airlock, then the ceiling. He might have bounced right back out if the outer hatch had not closed behind him.

“Jonas,” said Borg to the professor’s comms link, “That ship is a warship from our world. They’ve come to either destroy or capture us. We’re going to try to outrun them, using your technology. I’m leaving one of our security officers here. In five minutes, the airlock will be re-pressurized and you’ll be able to enter the ship. The security officer will then escort you to the engine control room to assist Kemalia in case any issues arise.”

Jonas found himself on his hands and knees. His whole body ached. He felt as though he could barely hold himself up, and his head was spinning like a top.

“Doc, I don’t feel so good,” he said.

“Of course,” said Dr. Borg, “You probably have decompression sickness. Lay on your side and try to stay conscious.” He then began speaking quickly to the security officer beside him.

“Doc . . . I don’t . . . feel . . . good,” moaned Jonas. Blackness creeped in around the edge of his vision. Then everything was dark.

Jonas awoke to the sensation of being jostled. He was being carried in someone’s arms, like a child being carried to bed. He opened his eyes and looked up into the face of the tall, strong, handsome man carrying him.

“Who are you?” asked Jonas, groggily. The man did not answer until he set the professor down on the floor of the engine control room.

“My name is Mango. I gave you an injection for your decompression sickness. Your joints may be sore for a while but you will be fine.”

The room was awash in red light. An alarm was sounding in steady intervals.

Jonas propped himself up on his aching elbows. The engineering staff were working frantically and shouting information to each other. Kemalia was there too, trying to rein in the chaos.

“Professor? Please, is there anyway to accelerate the conversion process??” She sounded anxious.

“Accelerate?” he asked dumbly.

A tremor ran through the whole ship. The vibration made Jonas’s body ache all over.

“Professor! Please! Is there anyway to make it faster? Professor?! We have to go faster!” Kemalia was on the verge of panic.

“No. The process is still bound by the laws of physics. It can only go so fast-”

The ship began to shake tremendously. There was a horrible, inhuman shrieking sound—the sound of several tons of metal in distress—then the whole room was jerked violently. Jonas tumbled across the floor and into a console.

When he looked up, he saw that they were no longer attached to the engine chamber. In fact, that entire wall had disappeared. He saw a flash of pale green sky and a streak of white clouds and heard the deafening roar of wind rushing past. The engine control room was careening wildly through the sky and then it suddenly wasn’t and Jonas was unconscious once more.