his cue. As an afterthought, to help him talk, I added, "At ease, by
the way, Anders."

"Thank you, sir," he said, not actually loosening much in his rigid
position, but his face looking happier. "See, I was supposed to pilot
the kids back here from Mars when their trip was done, and--" He gave
a helpless shrug. "I dunno, sir. I got 'em all aboard, made sure they
were secure in the takeoff racks, and then I set my coordinates for
Earth and took off. Just a run-of-the-mill takeoff, sir."

"And when did you notice they were missing?" I asked, looking at the
metallic bulk of the ship and wondering what alien force could snatch
fifteen fair-sized young boys through its impervious hull without
leaving a trace.

"Chow time, sir. That's when you expect to have the little--to have
the kids in your hair, sir. Everyone wants his rations first--You know
how kids are, sir. So I went to the galley and was about to open up
the ration packs, when I noticed how damned quiet it was aboard. And
especially funny that no one was in the galley waiting for me to start
passing the stuff out."

"So you searched," I said.

Anders nodded sorrowfully. "Not a trace of 'em, sir. Just some of their
junk left in their storage lockers."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really? I'd be interested in seeing this junk,
Anders."

"Oh, yes, sir. Right this way, sir. Watch out for these rungs, they're
slippery."

I ascended the retractable metal rungs that jutted from a point
between the tailfins to the open airlock, twenty feet over ground
level, and followed Anders inside the ship.

I trailed Anders through the ship, from the pilot's compartment--a
bewildering mass of dials, switches, signal lights and wire--through
the galley into the troop section. It was a cramped cubicle housing a

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