"Calling Space Ship Fleury. Repeat: Calling Space Ship Fleury.... Answer please."
Brad jerked his head off the panel ledge. Hot coffee from a container that his limp hand half-gripped sloshed over the brim and spilled on the deck. He turned a haggard, puzzled face to the bulkhead speaker.
It had flooded the compartment with sound—live, vibrant sound. The signal had been loud and clear. Not weak. Not like the one from Jim's lifecraft two jumps away.
"This is the SS Fleury!" he shouted, stumbling forward eagerly and gripping the gooseneck of the mike. "Come in!"
"Fleury from SS Cluster Queen.... Answering your SOS."
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."