ificant role to play, but
all of you, working together, will provide the strength we need. When
the _cadre_--"

"So they call their guards teachers," Arkalion commented dryly.

"--come around, they will see that each man is strapped properly into
his bunk for deceleration. Deceleration begins in twenty-seven
minutes."

_Mars_, thought Temple, back in his room with Arkalion. _Mars._ He did
not think of Stephanie, except as a man who knows he must spend the
rest of his life in prison might think of a lush green field, or the
cool swish of skis over fresh, powdery snow, or the sound of yardarms
creaking against the wind on a small sailing schooner, or the tang of
wieners roasting over an open fire with the crisp air of fall against
your back, or the scent of good French brandy, or a woman.

Deceleration began promptly. Before his face was distorted and his
eyes forced shut by a pressure of four gravities, Temple had time to
see the look of complete unconcern on Arkalion's face. Arkalion, in
fact, was sleeping.

He seemed as completely relaxed as he did that morning Temple thought
he was dead.

CHAPTER IV

"Petrovitch, S. A.!" called the Comrade standing abreast of the head
of the line, a thin, nervous man half a head shorter than the girl
herself. Sophia Androvna Petrovitch strode forward, took a pair of
trim white shorts from the neat stack at his left.

"Is that all?" she said, looking at him.

"Yes, Comrade. Well, a woman. Well."

Without embarrassment, Sophia had seen the men ahead of her in line
strip and climb into the white shorts before they disappeared through
a portal ahead of the line, depositing their clothing in a growing
pile on the floor. But now it was Sophia's turn, after almost a two
hour wait. Not that it was chilly, but....

"Is that all?" she repeated.

"Certainly. Strip and move along, Comrade." The nervous little man
appraised her lecherously, she thought.

"Then I must keep some of my own clothing," she told him.

"Impossible. I have my orders."

"I am a woman."

"You are a volunteer for the Stalintrek. You will take no personal
property--no clothing--with you. Strip and advance, please."

Sophia flushed slightly, while the men behind her began to call and
taunt.

"I like this Stalintrek."

"Oh, yes."

"We are waiting, Comrade."

Quickly and with an objective detachment which surprised her, Sophia
unbuttoned her shirt, removed it. Her one wish--and an odd one, she