"It seemed to me," Channok remarked, watching the Ra-Twelve in the viewscreen before them, "as if her drives had cut off completely just then! But they're on again now. What do you think, crew-member Peer?"
"Let's just follow her a bit," Peer suggested. "I've seen ships act like that that were just running out of juice. But this one won't even answer signals!"
"It could be," Channok said hopefully, "a case of fair salvage! You might keep working the communicators, though...."
However, the Ra-Twelve continued to ignore them while she plodded on towards the distant red glare of the Nameless System like a blind, thirsty beast following its nose to a water-hole. Presently, she began a series of quavering zigzag motions, wandered aimlessly off her course, returned to it again on a few final puffs of invisible energy and at last went drifting off through space with her drives now obviously dead.
The Asteroid continued to follow at a discreet distance like a chunky vulture, watching. If there was anyone on board the Ra-Twelve, it almost had to be a ghost. Her rear lock was wide open, and the hull showed deep scars and marks of some recent space-action.
"But she wasn't really badly hurt," Channok pointed out. "What do you suppose could have happened to her crew?"
Peer gave him a nervous grin. "Maybe a space-ghost came on board!"
"You don't really believe those spooky voyageur stories, do you?" he said tolerantly.
"Sure I do—and so will you some day!" Peer promised him. "I'll tell you a few true ones just before your next sleep-period!"
"No, you won't," Channok said firmly. "Aside from space-ghosts, though, that crate has a downright creepy look to her. But I suppose I'd better go over and check, as soon as she slows down enough so we can latch on. And you're going to stay on the Asteroid, Peer."