"What do you make of this?" he asked.
Craig shrugged. "I pass," he said.
"But—one minute we were part of a task force and Jap bombers were having a go at us. The next minute—" Higgins looked helpless. "Damn it, Craig," he exploded, "things like that can't happen!"
"They aren't supposed to happen," the big man grimly answered. "We just saw one of them happen."
"But—" Higgins protested, "surely we would have known about these space-time faults, if they existed. Other ships would have fallen into them."
"Maybe other ships have fallen into them," Craig suggested. "In the last war the Cyclops vanished without a trace. There have been other ships, dozens of them, that have disappeared. And, for that matter, how is the commander of your task force going to handle the disappearance of the Idaho?"
"I don't know," Higgins muttered.
"He is going to have to report the loss of the battleship. What will he say?"
"What can he say?"
"He'll search the area, for survivors and wreckage. When he finds neither the only conclusion he can reach will be that the Idaho was instantaneously sunk with the loss of all hands. Remember we were under attack at the time. Remember that intense blue light that flared around the horizon? To the men in the other ships that light may have looked like an explosion of the magazines of the Idaho. The admiral commanding your task force may report that a bomb seemingly passed down the smoke stack of the Idaho and the resulting explosion touched off the powder magazine."