Linda was in the galley, whipping up a quick meal. Aside from its complete necessity in making the switch-over from normal space to sub-space and back again, that was one of the functions of the transfer unit. Since many of the outworld colonies still depended entirely on food concentrates and vitashots, a final home-cooked meal would be much appreciated by the traveler through sub-space.
"Scared?" Liddell called over his shoulder.
"You mean that they won't like my food?"
"No, I mean with our first customer?"
"I'm too busy with southern fried chicken to be scared."
"Funny, isn't it?" Liddell mused. "Fifty years ago if you asked a science writer to whip you up a piece about sub-space what would he have said?"
"Oh, something about a silver-hulled space liner shimmering into normal space."
Liddell nodded. "Well, they had the shimmering part right, anyway. But it wouldn't have been a space ship."
"It wouldn't have been a space ship," Linda agreed.
"Because there's no necessity to breathe or to carry out any of the normal biological functions in sub-space. There isn't any heat in sub-space and there isn't any cold. There is only nothingness and nothingness can have absolutely no effect on an organism. In short—"