Daniel F. Galouye

“ Brad listened to the ominous convulsions of the ship for a moment. "Your orders are to continue to Vega IV. I'm sticking."
"But, skipper! Dammit! There's always the chance of spilling through into normal! That's a torturous way to go!"
Brad's lips brushed roughly against the bulkhead mike. "If I fall through it's just me, isn't it?"
Although the sound level was too low, he knew there was a sigh on the other end. "Okay," the speaker whispered. "If I can't convince you...."
Brad leaned against the bulkhead and shivered. ”

“ There he'd be at quartercrest and would have time to rest before worrying about being drawn down the arc again toward normal space.
While he jockeyed the fourth crate into the hold, a huge shadow suddenly blotched out part of the star lines off to the port side. It was the Cluster Queen pursuing a crate not in orbit around the Fleury. Brad shrugged; he'd be unable to pick up the ones that far out anyway.
But his head jerked upright in the helmet suddenly. If Altman was after a free box, he realized, the Cluster Queen could not appear in sharp outline to an observer in the Fleury system! ”

“ Clank-sss, clank-sss, went the battered safety valve of the pile cooling system.
BOOM ... boom ... BOOM ... boom. A severed and dangling piston rod crashed in monotonous rhythm against a deck beam as the rest of the auxiliary compression unit strained to satisfy its function.
An off-beat bass viol strum added its depressive note to the symphony of destruction's aftermath—throom-throom ... throom-throom. It was the persistent expansion of plate metal reacting to heat from a ruptured tube jacket.
Forward, in the control compartment of the cargo craft, the sounds were muted. ”

“ Brad said resignedly into the mike.
Altman hissed irritably. "Conally, there's no sense in playing hide-'n-seek with the little power you've got left. Get off that damned piece of junk and come aboard."
"Go to hell."
"Listen! I'm tired of wasting time! If you don't...."
"I'll sign a release and shoot it over to you. That's all you need to clear you of rescue and standby responsibility. I'll keep my distress signal off until you get out of range."
"Uh-uh. It ain't as simple as that. I want your cargo. And I'm going to get it. Now let's be sensible. You know you don't have a chance." ”

“ Can you give me a tow, Altman?"
"Can't do that, Conally. I'm not...."
"If you'll just give me a boost then. To the crest of this hyperjump. Then I won't have to worry about slipping through."
"Like I started to tell you," Altman intoned insistently, "one of my grapples is sheared."
"You still have two more."
"Uh-uh. This wise boy ain't gonna take a chance of a line snapping and knocking a hunk outta my hull. Especially when you got cargo spilling all over space."
Brad clenched his fists. He spoke through his teeth. "Look, Altman. Regulations say...." ”

“ He got additional speed out of his propulsor, but the tubes swung slowly as he covered more of the distance to his hatch. It seemed he couldn't escape his position of looking up into the mouths of the jets.
"I don't know, boss," the speaker near his ear sounded again. "Maybe he is out there."
"We better not take chances, then," Altman was not hiding the heavy sarcasm in his words. "Blast away!"
Brad kicked sideways, stiffened his arm and hit the wrist jet full force. He shot to one side on a course parallel with the Fleury. ”

“ Brad shouted.
"The stuff not in orbit around the Fleury ain't yours any longer, Conally," Altman laughed. "You oughta bone up on your salvage laws."
"You damned scavenger!"
"Now, now, Brad," the other said smoothly. "What would you do if you were in my position? Would you let top priority cargo slip through to normal and get lost off the hyperlane? Or would you scoop it up and bring it in for bonus price?"
"You're not after a bonus," Brad roared into the mike. "You're after a contract.... Altman, I'll pay two thousand for a ten-minute tow up-arc. ”

“ Brad stood motionless, staring, not breathing.
"The pile'll hold," the crewman announced, "for another four hours, just about."
"Fine!" Altman exclaimed. "This junk'll slip through within an hour. That'll give us another three hours, at least, to get this stiff aboard the Queen and transfer cargo before she blows. Then we can mop up on whatever crates we've...."
But the air lock closed and the rest of his words were cut off.
If he could only get cleaned up before it came. If he could only enjoy the luxury of a bath, a shave, clean clothes. ”

“ He thought of his only functioning hyperdrive tube. Its gauge showed a power level that was only high enough to boost the craft back onto the hyperspace level when it started to conform with the normal tendency to fall through. How many times the tube could be counted on to repeat the performance he couldn't guess. It might be painful if he should let the drop gain too much momentum before correcting—human beings were built to cross the barrier in nothing longer than a micro-second. But, he resolved, he would worry about that when the time came.
"Why don't you let it go, Brad?" ”

“ Any peculiar noises aboard the Fleury?"
Brad cocked his head toward the stern. The complaining clanks and groans and off-beat thumpings maintained their steady rhythm. There were some new noises.
"I been listening to it get louder for the past three hours," Altman hinted.
Then Brad's ears picked it up—an erratic, excited clackety-clack-clackety-clack. He gasped.
Altman laughed. "That counter's setting up quite a sing-song, ain't it? I sorta think that pile might go boom in a few hours. But I'm hoping I can get your cargo aboard before then. You can come too if you want." ”

“ He glanced out the direct-view port. Altman was right. The sky was no longer a grid of star streaks. The lines had shrunken; their lengths now stretched scarcely over three or four degrees. The scope showed the Queen was still there spatially, but the fuzziness of her outline indicated she was well out of danger—high up on the ascending node of the arc.
"What's on the program, Altman?" Brad asked bitterly. "Let me guess.... I slip through the barrier. Passage at slow speed makes pretty much of a pulpy mess out of my body. You pop the Queen through in a milli-second.... ”

“ There would be plenty of time to do that; right now she must stick close to the Fleury spatially, Brad realized, so her instruments would indicate the moment the spillthrough to normal space occurred, so her crew could get to work.
As though hypnotized in inconsequential thought, he watched the crates slowly draw away. Almost incredibly expensive cargo. Cargo that Altman would surely not allow to go unrecovered. Even as booty, the crated equipment would bring every bit of what it was worth. But Altman would see that they were delivered—every one of them. ”

“ His hopes suddenly vanished. "Is that Altman? What are you doing on this run?"
"Yeah, Conally. This is Altman. Freeholding to Vega.... What's your trouble? Anything serious?"
Altman had come in to unload at Arcturus II Spaceport while the Fleury was still docked, Brad recalled. The huge ship had been berthed next to his.
"Main drive jacket blown out in the engine compartment," Brad said hoarsely. "It happened at the end of the eighth jump. We're about a half-notch into hyper—just barely off the border." ”

“ He had time to make all those preparations. So he dreams up the scheme of hiding in with the cargo that's free in hyper and telling this story later. You see...."
Brad laughed. "Your tongue's working a little too fast, Altman. When I picked the crate I was going to ride in, I picked a very special one. The tractor's bringing it out now." He pointed to the ramp. ”

“ He hadn't been able to pick up the Queen on the scope because it was too close to register as a blip separate from the central luminescence on the screen which was representative of the Fleury itself. Altman had maneuvered alongside, aligned the hatch flanges of the two ships and activated his magnetic grapples. The nearness of his grav coils had restored some of the Fleury's internal stability. He was preparing to board the Fleury. ”

“ The crewman from the Queen stepped into the control cabin and walked toward the passageway aft while Altman held the gun on Brad.
"Think you can do it quick enough?" Altman asked the crewman. "Radiation, you know." ”

“ There were still six boxes in orbit. He pushed out again toward the closest and saw he had not been wrong in his reasoning. The Queen's outline was razor-edge sharp; it was close enough to stretch across fifty-five degrees of the celestial sphere. ”

“ The tube fired for another second, but that was all. He had used the last erg.
But how much time had he bought with his final means of retreat from the spillthrough trough? He checked the celestial crisscrosses.... Not much....
Altman? he wondered suddenly. Where was the Cluster Queen? It wasn't showing up on the scope any longer. Neither were the crates. Had he retrieved them and shoved off? Brad jiggled the scope's brilliance control, wondering whether it was faulty and was simply not registering the Queen. ”

“ A tractor kept itself busy rolling up the ramp into the ship and out again with huge crates that were apparently in somewhat poorer condition than when they left Arcturus II. An occasional splintered board jutted outward, held to its box only by loose nails. ”