It was my third trip in jump drive, and it felt rough. You're not supposed to have turbulence; the point of negative space is there's no matter. So if there's nothing to hit, how can the ride be bumpy?

 

That was the substance of my chat with the pilot after we popped back into normal just outside Mars orbit. I shoulda known better than to have brought it up; he was busy concentrating on matching orbits with the Tetherball -- Elevator Station, I should say. Then again, as cargomaster, I had plenty to do myself. I got down to the main hold and ran my inspection, making a mental note to talk to Frenchy. Engineers know the science.

 

Meanwhile, I had my hands full. There'd been a breach in bulk grain storage, and seeds were spraying out all over Hold Three. Cargobots aren't good at objects smaller than a shipping crate, and I had to go down myself and slap on a patch. Wheat kernels were stuck all through my hair, in my ears, under my collar -- everywhere possible and then some. I felt like I had been machine-gunned with dry spitwads. I set some Hooverbots on cleanup, finished my hold check, and went to change into a fresh jumpsuit.

 

We were on time at Elevator, and I handed off my manifest at the quartermaster's office and explained about the grain. Mars Colony was still new in those days and the return cargo was three passengers -- colonist washouts -- and some ore samples going home for analysis. We were finished in two hours and heading home in three.

 

On the ride out to the jump point I talked with the ship's engineer, a Québécois who hates being called Frenchy; he repeated almost verbatim what the pilot had said. I wasn't reassured, but what the hell. I went back to the hold and started the bots on a routine scan of the plating. On my way to report, I blew my nose; three more kernels of wheat in my handkerchief. At this rate I was gonna start sprouting.

 

"All set, Roberts?"

 

"Five by five, Cap," I replied. "Say, Cap: Did the ride out feel bumpy to you?"

 

He looked at me quizzically. "Not sure how it could, Bob. There's nothing--"

 

"Nothing in negative space. Yeah; Frenchy and Pico both said the same thing. Strangest thing, though; I coulda sworn... Well. Guess I'd better go strap in."

 

The ride out had been rough; the ride home near shook my teeth loose, with a mighty jolt at the end. I checked on the cargo; somehow, the rock samples hadn't scattered everywhere, though both crates broke loose. I got them squared away and went forward. On the way, I met Frenchy heading aft.

 

"Bet you felt it that time," I said, and he cussed a blue streak and kept moving.

 

Things were tense on the bridge too; red lights flashed instead of green. I made my report, then asked, "What's up, Cap?"

 

"Bumpy ride, Bob," and I could swear he grinned for half a second, sweaty face and all.

 

Just then the navigator reported. "Got a fix, Captain. You're not gonna like it. We overshot Earth and went halfway out the other side past Jupiter." He turned back and faced us, wide-eyed. "That's eighteen months on in-system drive, and we've got food for three weeks."

 

"No," said the captain. "Three passengers, remember?"

 

"Aw; colonist meat's so stringy!" That was Pico; everyone chuckled.

 

* * *

 

That night we met in the mess, seven crew and three passengers. Frenchy had just finished telling us that the jump drive was shot, and the pilot that he'd set the fastest course back to the inner system. Then the captain stood up.

 

"I won't lie to you; things don't look great. We're too far out for laser comms or the radio, but we've rigged up an S.O.S. and Earthbase will eventually catch it. The trick will be surviving until then. Air and water reprocess and power's no trouble, but even on quarter rations we've got food for two months and a sixteen month trip. We've got to-- What is it, Bob?"

 

"Three minutes, Cap," I said over my shoulder; I was back in two. "Good news: We didn't offload garbage at Mars. That means we've still got all the wheat that spilled into Hold Three; just have to sift it out and cook it. Got to be a few hundred kilos--" By then the cheers had gotten too loud to continue. I asked for volunteers and got 'em.

 

* * *

 

Breakfast was wheat porridge; lunch would be wheat bread. We'd finished the first sifting in Hold Three and would start again in a couple of hours. I went forward to report.

 

Frenchy was in the cabin with the captain, who said, "Shut the door." I took that as an invitation and squeezed in.

 

"Almost six bushels, Cap. That's three and a half weeks worth of food at full rations. Might get a bit more after lunch, but no promises. What's that you've got there, Frenchy?"

 

He showed me a small vial of green pebbles. "It's what wrecked the drive. Somehow, something got into a sealed reaction chamber. Computer can't analyze it."

 

I pulled a similar-looking palm-sized rock from my pocket. "Best guess is, this is what ruptured the grain can up in Three. No second hole; no idea how it got there. Whaddaya think -- matter from negative space, or waiting for us when we jumped back?"

 

They exchanged a look and cursed.

 

* * *

 

We finally made contact with Earth two weeks later. On our word, all jump drives were shut down until they figured things out; Ceres Base sent out a cargo drone stuffed full of food to meet us partway. We made it home skinny but alive, and just in time to install the newly-developed negative matter shield.

 

Turns out, negative space isn't so empty after all.