Ahead, the Fleury was picked up immediately on the scope. Like a hawk, the Queen closed the distance to the other trembling, silent ship.
Vega IV's spaceport was bathed in brilliant, blue-cast light from the magnificent sun.
The Cluster Queen was docked. 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.
Three men were next to the hold's hatch. They stood grouped about an elongated form that lay on the concrete apron, covered with a white square of linen. A spacesuit 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."
"Be glad to," Altman answered. "Any time you're ready."
"As soon as they pick up—Conally," the inspector looked down at the form.
"I don't understand it," Jim muttered, rubbing a thumb and forefinger over closed eyelids.
"Maybe I've got a version that's easier to understand, Jim," the voice sounded forcefully from the direction of the hatch.