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 passageway 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 space.
In the scope of the Cluster 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 space where stars shown with pinpoint brilliancy and where the celestial sphere was no longer a lazy, crazy crisscross of blurred lines.
The Cluster 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.