"

"I should remind you that we have well over two thousand inmates here."

"Inmates!" barked the general. "Who the devil said anything about your
inmates? Think we'll take a lot of convicts to Mars! Populate it with
killers, thieves--"

"Who does go, then?" Halloran did not raise his voice but Knox looked
suddenly uneasy.

"Why ... uh, your operating personnel," he replied gruffly. "Your
guards, clerks ... hell, man, it's obvious, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid that is out," Goldsmid said. "For me, that is." He stood up,
a heavy-shouldered middleweight running a little to fat. "Excuse me,
warden, my counseling period's coming up."

"Sit down, Pete," Halloran said quietly. "We haven't finished this
conference."

"I admire your sentiments, Rabbi," Lansing said hurriedly, "but surely
you realize that we can't take any criminal elements to ... ah, what
will be our new world. And we do have a special need for you. We've
plenty of your co-religionists among our various personnel, but we don't
have an ordained minister for them. They're your responsibility."

"Afraid my first responsibility is here." Goldsmid's voice was quite
matter-of-fact.

"So's mine," grunted Slade. "Warden, even if the world ends tomorrow,
I've got to get Squeaker Hanley's gall bladder out today. No point in my
hanging around any longer is there?"

"Of course there is," Halloran answered. He took a package of cigarettes
from his pocket, selected one, and lit it. He exhaled smoke and looked
speculatively at Lansing. The scientist felt himself blushing and looked
away.

Halloran turned to Court.

"Quite a problem, isn't it, Alfred," he said. "I suppose these gentlemen
are right in keeping the inmates off their ships. At any rate, _we_
can't argue the matter--so let's do what we're asked. I think you'd
better plan to get the guards out of here tonight, at shift change.
Might pass the word to their wives now, so they can start packing a few
essentials. Doc," he turned to Slade, "before you get your greedy hands
on Squeaker's gall bladder, you'd better round up your staff and have
them make the proper arrangements."

"O.K., I'll put it up to them."

"You'll _not_ put it up to them," the warden said sharply. "You'll
_order_ them to be ready when the general, here, wants them."

"I'll give no orders," Slade said grimly.

"Just a minute," interposed Court. "Sir, aren't you going?"

"Of course not. But that's neither here nor there--"

The loud