Part 5 (1/2)

”Ain't that touching!”

”You mean you won't pick me up?”

”We'll pick you up all right--we wanna take what's left of you back to show how you died.”

”It's like that then? You're going to kill me to get the cargo?”

”You're learning fast.”

”Are you going to hook on to the Fleury and drag her in to port?”

”Are you nuts? The inspectors could easily find out that we worked her over before you left port.... What's the matter--got a sentimental attachment for that old crate?”

”Look, Altman....”

”Go to h.e.l.l, Conally.”

The background hum died out of the Fleury's receiver abruptly. Brad called twice. But there was no answer.

The SS Fleury was vibrant with the final pounding of its weakening vital parts.

_Clank-sss, clank-sss_, the coolant's safety valve hissed.

_Boom ... boom_, the jangling piston rod pounded. The expanding metal plate added its _throom-throom_ note.

The counter in the pa.s.sageway _clackety-clacked_ louder.

Their lines snapped by persistent tremors and lurches, more crates danced in the holds. Some of them eventually found their way to the gaping holes in the hull and, receiving a final, brief kick from jagged metal, floated lightly out into s.p.a.ce.

In the scope of the Cl.u.s.ter Queen, the Fleury's outline became fuzzier.

With mounting groans, the tortured vessel wrenched violently as she slipped down the descending arc.

Then suddenly she was through--in normal s.p.a.ce where stars shown with pinpoint brilliancy and where the celestial sphere was no longer a lazy, crazy crisscross of blurred lines.

The Cl.u.s.ter Queen started a wide hyperspatial turn, remaining spatially alongside the Fleury. She gathered speed as she swung around and straightened out and, with hyperjets blasting full force, plunged through the barrier in somewhat less time than a milli-second.

Ahead, the Fleury was picked up immediately on the scope. Like a hawk, the Queen closed the distance to the other trembling, silent s.h.i.+p.

Vega IV's s.p.a.ceport was bathed in brilliant, blue-cast light from the magnificent sun.

The Cl.u.s.ter Queen was docked. A tractor kept itself busy rolling up the ramp into the s.h.i.+p 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.

Three men were next to the hold's hatch. They stood grouped about an elongated form that lay on the concrete ap.r.o.n, covered with a white square of linen. A s.p.a.cesuit clad arm jutted out under one side of the covered square.

”We'll take you over to the office,” Inspector Graham was saying.

”You'll have to make out an affidavit, you know. We'll need a couple of your crewmen to verify it.”