ealized, was that the Cluster Queen was drawing closer
both spatially and on the descending node of the hyperspatial arc!
Altman was violating the law; he was going to take the cargo in orbit.
And he could well get away with it too, since it would be the word of
only one man aboard the Fleury against the word of the entire crew of
the Queen.

* * * * *

There were still six boxes in orbit. He pushed out again toward the
closest and saw he had not been wrong in his reasoning. The Queen's
outline was razor-edge sharp; it was close enough to stretch across
fifty-five degrees of the celestial sphere.

He kept it in the corner of his vision as he hooked on to the crate and
started back to the ship. The Queen was reversing attitude slowly. When
he had first spotted it, it was approaching at an angle, nose forward.
But now it had gyroed broadside and was continuing to turn as it drifted
slowly toward Brad and the box.

"Altman!" he cried into his all-wave helmet mike. "You're on collision
course!"

Brad kicked away from the crate and streaked back toward the Fleury.

There was a laugh in the receiver. "Did you hear something, Bronson?"

"No, captain," another voice laughed. "For a moment I thought maybe I
picked up a small blip near that crate. But I don't guess Conally would
be stupid enough to suit up and try to hustle his own cargo."

Brad activated his propulsor again and gained impetus in his dash for
the Fleury's hatch.

"Still," Altman muttered, "it seems like I heard somebody say something
about a collision course."

The Cluster Queen was no longer turning. It had stabilized, with its
tubes pointed in the general direction of the Fleury and her floating
crates.

Perspiration formed on Brad's forehead as he glanced up and saw the
other ship steady itself, settling on a predetermined, split-hair
heading. Somebody, he realized grimly, was doing a good job of aiming
the vessel's stern.

He got additional speed out of his propulsor, but the tubes swung slowly
as he covered more of the distance to his hatch. It seemed he couldn't
escape his position of looking up into the mouths of the jets.

"I don't know, boss," the speaker near his ear sounded again. "Maybe he
_is_ out there."

"We better not take chances, then," Altman was not hiding the heavy
sarcasm in his words. "Blast away!"

Brad kicked sideways, stiffened his arm and hit the wrist jet full
force. He shot to one sid