"There was just the wood--we stowed it according to chart."
Van Rycke grunted once more. "Feeling top-layer again?"
"Yes, sir. Any orders, sir?"
"No. Blast-off's at six."
"Yes, sir." Dane left the cabin, closing the panel carefully behind him.
Would he--or could he--he thought drearily, get back in Van Rycke's
profit column again? Sargol had been unlucky as far as he was concerned.
First he had made that stupid mistake and then he got sick and now--And
now--what _was_ the matter? Was it just the general attack of nerves over
their voyage and the commitments which forced their haste, or was it
something else? He could not rid himself of a vague sense that the Queen
was about to take off into real trouble. And he did not like the
sensation at all!
Chapter VIII
HEADACHES
They lifted from Sargol on schedule and went into Hyper also on schedule.
From that point on there was nothing to do but wait out the usual dull
time of flight between systems and hope that Steen Wilcox had plotted a
course which would cut that flight time to a minimum. But this voyage
there was little relaxation once they were in Hyper.
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