Tomkins and MacDowell were napping quietly. The second mate, a guy named Todd, was making motions at guiding the ship's flight through nothing, and also making a mild play for Helen MacDowell. And not getting very far with either job.
Biggs and Cleaver had finished inspecting the instrument panels, and were in earnest confab by the plot charts. Hank seemed to be summarizing their decisions.
"—your new gadget was supposed to eliminate every speck of energy waste, huh?"
"That's right. And thus conserve fuel, at the same time giving tremendous speed," Biggs nodded.
"An' when you plugged the switch, it gave one whoop an' holler, the Saturn went like a bat out o' hell for a few seconds—"
"—and then," finished Biggs, "we found ourselves here. That's the story, Hank. The whole story, so help me. But if, from those few facts and what I've shown you, you can explain in what part of the universe we are, you're an even greater genius than history says you were—I mean, are."
Hank cocked a quizzical eye. "That's funny, ain't it?" he mused. "I was, but I still am. Time's tricky, Lanse. But, listen, you made one mistake."
"Yes?"
"In sayin' 'what part o' the universe.' Way I see it that ain't the explanation a-tall. Way I see it, there's two kinds o' universes. The is an' the ain't. An' we're in the other one."
"I—I beg your pardon?" faltered Biggs.