To keep himself occupied he remembered what there had been to learn; to recam the comptometers in anticipation of the ever increasing speed of warp shifts; how to change direction and yet keep a bearing on home; how to fly some of it by himself, juggling equations in his head while the comptometers cooled off.
Then two years ago he had joined the Patrol. Chasing water bootleggers who stole from government reserves and sold at fantastic prices was something he hadn't as yet had a hand in. That he had become an officer in a year and a half instead of the usual six hadn't surprised him much; if he weren't a captain in another year and a half he'd resign. And dig the asteroids again maybe. It didn't matter.
"At Barrier in four minutes, sir. Grimes, stand by comptometer One with her coordinates...."
Comptometer One rose from a deep hum below the range of hearing into audibility. "Now, Mister Grimes!" Comptometer Two checked in and the hum rose steadily to a high pitched whine. Three came in.
"I've got her on the radar track, sir! There she is—good Lord!"
"Signal her to cut her drive before we lose her altogether. Grimes—" But Grimes was too slow at resetting comptometer cams. Cragin plotted a trajectory in his head and kept alert for the least change in volume of the comps. Deliberately he brought the nose of the hurtling Patrol craft swinging about under the grazing touch of his fingertips and sought to keep the big ship on her warp while he estimated an intersection point.
"Sir," Kramer was howling, "I can't raise—yes, there! She's cut her drive. But she's not bow jetting a squirt!"
"Just get the M-fields ready. I'll tell you when," Cragin said. If there had been any excitement in his voice before, it had disappeared. He knew they'd catch her now. He was on the Patrol ship's back and he knew he could ride it down.
"You've got maybe a dozen seconds, Cragin," the captain told him. "At a drift her critical will be shot to blazes—"
"M-fields!"