“They were screwballs all right,” I said, “but they couldn’t have happened along at a better time. I only wish we had been in a position to squeeze a few answers out of them.”
“Yes, sir,” Clay said. “Now that the whole thing’s over, I’m beginning to think of a lot of questions myself.”
The annunciator hummed. I heard what sounded like hoarse breathing. I glanced at the indicator light. It was the cargo deck mike that was open.
I keyed. “If you have a report, Chilcote, go ahead,” I said.
Suddenly someone was shouting into the mike, incoherently. I caught words, cursing. Then Chilcote’s voice, “Captain,” he said. “Captain, please come quick.” There was a loud clatter, noise, then only the hum of the mike.
“Take over, Clay,” I said, and started back to the cargo deck at a dead run.
Men crowded the corridor, asking questions, milling. I forced my way through, found Kramer surrounded by men, shouting.
“Break this up,” I shouted. ”Kramer, what’s your report?”
Chilcote walked past me, pale as chalk. I pushed through to Kramer.