Smoothing the fur along the cat's jaw line Dane carried him
back to the Cargo-master's cabin.
With some hesitation he knocked at the panel and did not step in until he
had Van Rycke's muffled invitation. The Cargo-master was stretched on the
bunk, two of the take off straps already fastened across his bulk as if
he intended to sleep through the blast-off.
"Sinbad, sir. Shall I stow him?"
Van Rycke grunted an assent and Dane dropped the cat in the small hammock
which was his particular station, fastening the safety cords. For once
Sinbad made no protest but rolled into a ball and was promptly fast
asleep. For a moment or two Dane thought about this unnatural behavior
and wondered if he should call it to the Cargo-master's attention.
Perhaps on Sargol Sinbad had had _his_ equivalent of a friendship cup
and needed a check-up by Tau.
"Stowage correct?" the question, coming from Van Rycke, was also unusual.
The seal would not have been put across the hold lock had its contents
not been checked and rechecked.
"Yes, sir," Dane replied woodenly, knowing he was still in the outer
darkness.
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