Altman hissed irritably. "Conally, there's no sense in playing hide-'n-seek with the little power you've got left. Get off that damned piece of junk and come aboard." "Go to hell." "Listen! I'm tired of wasting time! If you don't...." "I'll sign a release and shoot it over to you. That's all you need to clear you of rescue and standby responsibility. I'll keep my distress signal off until you get out of range." "Uh-uh. It ain't as simple as that. I want your cargo. And I'm going to get it. Now let's be sensible. You know you don't have a chance." "Maybe I've learned a few tricks." The other snarled impatiently. "Okay, bright boy. I've had enough of this horseplay. I'm gonna let you see just the way things are.... Notice anything odd? Any peculiar noises aboard the Fleury?" * * * * * Brad cocked his head toward the stern. The complaining clanks and groans and off-beat thumpings maintained their steady rhythm. There were some new noises. "I been listening to it get louder for the past three hours," Altman hinted. Then Brad's ears picked it up--an erratic, excited _clackety-clack-clackety-clack_. He gasped. Altman laughed. "That counter's setting up quite a sing-song, ain't it? I sorta think that pile might go _boom_ in a few hours. But I'm hoping I can get your cargo aboard before then. You can come too if you want." Brad swung swiftly and lurched for the passageway aft. "Wish I was there to help you with the cad rod insertions," the laughing voice raced after him. The dial on the forward side of the shielded bulkhead read Oh-Oh-point-Oh-Two-Four. He applied the figure to the adjacent graph and learned he could remain in the engine compartment for one minute and fourteen seconds, with a safety factor of ten per cent. In that period of time, he rationalized, he ought to be able to insert a sufficient number of cadmium control rods to bring the pile under control. The counter clicked gratingly overhead as he undogged the hatch, swung it open and lunged into the steam-tormented acrid compartment. He broke open the first locker and jerked the remaining three cad rods from their racks. Coughing and waving smoke from in front of his face, he swung open the door of the first reserve compartment. It was empty! The second reserve compartment was empty too, as were the two emergency compartments. Only three cadmium rods when he needed at least three dozen! In a rapid dash around the pile block, he inserted the rods at spaced intervals in their slots. At least they would mean a few hours' grace. As he slid the last rod in he cursed himself and swore that if he ever commanded another ship he would not leave it unmanned at the dock--specifically if there was somebody like Altman berthed anywhere at the same spaceport.