"Vacuole?" she repeated. "What's that? What's a vacuole, Lancelot?"
Biggs said, "A hole in space, Diane. Their exact nature has never been accurately determined. All we know is that space itself, being subject to material warp, ofttimes develops 'empty spots' of super-space within itself. These areas correspond, roughly, to 'air pockets' encountered by planetary aviators; they are even more similar to the curious 'sacs' found in protoplasmic substances like amoebae."
Diane faltered, "A—a hole in space! It sounds incredible! Are they dangerous?"
"Apparently not," I told her. "Lots of space ships have tumbled into them, and in every case the ship has eventually worked its way out. Sometimes they're carried far off course, though. That's why the Slipstream has to back-drag, and do it fast." I grinned. "Sometime when I'm not too busy I'll draw you a picture of a space vacuole. It looks pretty. A hole full of nothing—in nothing!"
Cap Hanson had been peering through the perilens in my turret. Now he let loose a great roar of delight.
"I see her! I seen her stern jets flickerin' for a moment. Here she—Nope! She's in again!"
Biggs explained to the girl, "She's trying to back out. The only difficulty is, she has to reverse engines and come out with an acceleration built up to match that at which she entered. Which means—"
"Which means," I interjected hopefully, "we're not beaten yet, folks! When the Slipstream busts clear of that vacuole, she's going to be hell-bent in the opposite way to Earth. Mr. Biggs, if we can miss the vacuole and keep going, we might—"
Still at the perilens, Cap Hanson now yelled, "By golly, I just seen her again! But you ought to see where she is! That vacuole's a rip-snorter! Tearin' like a fool—"
"Which way?" cried Biggs.