The vision-ports showed stark lunacy. There were stars, but they were the stars of a madman's dream. They formed and dissolved into nothingness in instants too brief for estimate. For fractions of micro-seconds they careered upon impossible trajectories across the vision-ports' field of view. Now a monstrous blue-white sun glared in terribly, seemingly almost touching the ship. An instant later there was utter blackness all about. Then colossal flaring globes ringed in the _Starshine_, and shriveling heat poured in. Then there was a blue watery-seeming cosmos all around like the vision of an underwater world and dim shapes seemed to swim in it, and then stars again, and then.... It was stark, gibbering madness! But Kim reached the instrument-board. With the end of the last morsel of power he had ceased to have weight and had floated clear of the floor and everything else. By the crazy, changing light he sighted himself and, when he touched a sidewall, flung himself toward the now-dark bank of instruments. He caught hold, fumbled desperately and threw the switch a radiation-relay should have thrown. And then the madness ended. There was stillness. There was nothing anywhere. There was no weight within the ship, nor light, nor any sound save the heavy breathing of Kim and the Mayor of Steadheim. The vision-ports showed nothing. Looking carefully, with eyes losing the dazzle of now-vanished suns, one could see infinitely faint, infinitely distant luminosities. The _Starshine_ was somewhere between galaxies, somewhere in an unspeakable gulf between islands of space, in the dark voids which are the abomination of desolation. There were small clankings aft. The outer airlock door went shut. A little later the inner door opened. And then Kim swam fiercely through weightlessness and clung to Dona, still in her space-suit, unable to speak for his emotion. The voice of the Mayor of Steadheim arose in the darkness which was the interior of the _Starshine_--and the outer cosmos for tens of thousands of light-years all about. Dona now had the face-plate of her helmet open. She kissed Kim hungrily. "--brought you something," she said unsteadily. "I'm not sure what, but--something. They've separate engines to power their generators on that ship, and there were tanks I thought were fuel-tanks." "Space!" roared the Mayor of Steadheim, forward. "Who's that talking? Am I dead? Is this Hades?" "You're not dead yet," Kim called to him. "I'll tell you in a minute if you will be." There were no emergency-lights in the ship, but Dona's suit was necessarily so equipped. She turned on lights and Kim looked at the two objects she had brought. "My dear," he told her, "you did it! A little fuel-tank with gallons in it and a complete catalyzer. By the size of it, one of their beams uses an engine big enough for fifty ships like this!" Clutching at every projection, he made his way to the engine-room. Dona followed.