The voice sounded strong and clear and near.
The Mate spoke into the microphone.
And then they waited, their eyes on the huge sweep hand of the clock.
One second, two, three—
Four—
Five....
"Flight One. Read you fine. Expect to make approach within an hour. Has yur Ship a carrier magnet plate for coupling?"
The Captain frowned. "Tell him no."
"Hello, pilot ship. No magnet plate, repeat, no magnet plate."
"... All right, Flight One. Has yur Ship serviceable suits?"