"Careful and don't step on any of the ports," he warned Serj. "The magnetic soles won't hold on them."
"I'll be careful, sir," answered Serj.
No one but a veteran spaceman would have noticed the faint quiver that ran through the ship, but Jonner felt it. Automatically, he swung his control chair and his eyes swept the bank of dials.
At first he saw nothing. The outer lock light blinked on and off, then the inner lock indicator. That was Serj coming back inside.
Then Jonner noted that the hand on one dial rested on zero. Above the dial was the word: "ACCELERATION."
His eyes snapped to the radio controls. The atomic pile levers were still at their proper calibration. The dials above them said the engines were working properly.
The atomic tug was still accelerating, but passengers and cargo were in free fall.
Swearing Jonner jerked at the levers to pull out the piles aboard the tug.
A blue flash flared across the control board, momentarily blinding him. Jonner recoiled, only his webbed safety belt preventing him from plummeting from the control chair.
He swung back anxiously to the dials, brushing futilely at the spots that swam before his eyes. He breathed a sigh of relief. The radio controls had operated. The atomic engines had ceased firing.