ws of the inhabitants of the prison-domes on the
planet's surface. "Getting very confused readings," his scanning
officer told him.

"Signs of life?" A momentary panic.

"Yes, Lieutenant, but they cannot be right."

"Why?"

"Well, sir, Intelligence reports over two million inhabitants were
shipped here, and the internal structures are certainly large enough to
house that number. But I register less than two hundred life-forms."

"WHAT?"

"It's got to be the equipment, sir: they don't even register as human.
The calcium content is much too high." Even as he spoke the console
went dead with a smell of burned fiber and sparks.

"Communications Officer." He could not remember her name. "Have you
contacted Colonel Joyce?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. The viewscreens are out, but we still have audio."

"Very well. Put me through."

She handed him a headset.

"Colonel Joyce. Brunner. Do you still intend to call for Soviet
reinforcements?"

"They are on the way."

"Will they be here soon enough to secure the area?"

"Yes."

"And will you provide transports for the prisoners?"

"That will not..... One thing at a time, Olaf."

"What do you mean? Those people have been separated from their
families for months. What the hell are you waiting for?"

... "Is your scanning equipment working?"

"No, the upper bridge was destroyed. That's why I contacted you."

"And Mandlik?"

"Dead."

"You have assumed command?"

"Yes."

"Then I think you should organize a landing party and come to the
Leningrad. Have you an operational shuttle?" Brunner turned to one of
his officers, who nodded.

"Yes. For God's sake, what is happening?"

"I will tell you when you come."

"Sergei. My wife....."

"Not like this. Gather your party and come."

Brunner ordered the landing party assembled, and met it at the shuttle
dock. Among those he found there was the nurse, the only medical
persona that could be spared, whom he had been so aware of two days
before. He tried not to look at her. With a knotting throat and a
rising anxiety he could not contain, he guided the ship himself into
the open receiving dock of the Leningrad.

One other shuttle craft entered behind them, landing also on the dull
white metal floor, but no more. The bay doors were closed slowly and
the dock began to repressurize. But in his drunken state the very
sound of it was like her name hissed by witches.

As a double-line of Soviet