voice went into low gear. "I've still got enough juice
to come back and pick you up. After all, one ship and one load of
cargo ... it's just not worth it."

Brad listened to the ominous convulsions of the ship for a moment. "Your
orders are to continue to Vega IV. I'm sticking."

"But, skipper! Dammit! There's always the chance of spilling through
into normal! That's a torturous way to go!"

Brad's lips brushed roughly against the bulkhead mike. "If I fall
through it's just me, isn't it?"

Although the sound level was too low, he knew there was a sigh on the
other end. "Okay," the speaker whispered. "If I can't convince you...."

Brad leaned against the bulkhead and shivered. He'd have to see whether
he couldn't get more output from the heat converter--if he could chance
going past the leaking pile again. Or _was_ it the cold that was causing
him to tremble?--If he entered normal space at less than minimum
breakthrough speed.... He didn't complete the distasteful mental
picture.

He thought of his only functioning hyperdrive tube. Its gauge showed a
power level that was only high enough to boost the craft back onto the
hyperspace level when it started to conform with the normal tendency to
fall through. How many times the tube could be counted on to repeat the
performance he couldn't guess. It might be painful if he should let the
drop gain too much momentum before correcting--human beings were built
to cross the barrier in nothing longer than a micro-second. But, he
resolved, he would worry about that when the time came.

"Why don't you let it go, Brad?" the voice leaped through the grating
again.

Brad started. He thought Jim had cut the communication.

"You know the score. If we swing this we can get all of West Cluster
Supplies' work. We'll need an extra ship--several of them. But with the
contract we'll be able to borrow as much as we want."

Jim laughed. "At least I'm glad there's a rational, mercenary
motive. For a while I thought you were going through with that
go-down-with-the-ship routine."

Boom ... _Boom_ ... BOOM. The loose rod pounded with suddenly increasing
fury.

He lunged through the hatch. At least the compression unit was forward
of the faulty pile. And, while he did the job which automatic regulators
had abandoned, he would not have to keep track of his time of exposure
to hard radiation.

* * * * *

"Calling Space Ship Fleury. Repeat: Calling Space