le will be bitter and wish they had never come. They
will break up in groups and fight each other. They will challenge every
reason you have for your own coming. You will face your own personal
impoverishment, the death of your child--"

"Child?" said Jorden.

"Yes. You will be provided with a wife and three children. One of these
will die, and you will react as if it were your own flesh. Your wife
will oppose your staying, and demand a return to Earth. We will throw at
you every force available to tear down your determination to build a
colony. We shall test in every possible way the validity of your
decision to go. Do you still wish to go through with it?"

Jorden's grin was somewhat fainter. He took a deep breath as he nodded
slowly. "Yes, I'll go through with it. I think it's what I want."

* * * * *

When Ashby finally returned alone to the office, Miss Haslam had gone
home. He put in a call anyway for Dr. Bonnie Nathan. She usually
remained somewhere in the laboratory until quite late, even when not
assigned to a test.

In a few minutes her voice came over the phone. "John? What can I do for
you?"

"I thought I could let you off for a few days," said Ashby, "but we've
got another one that's come up rather suddenly." He told her briefly
about Mark Jorden. "It's useless, but I don't want him running to the
Commission right now, so we'll put him through. You'll be the wife.
We'll use Program Sixty Eight, except that we'll accelerate it."

"Accelerate--!"

"Yes. It won't hurt him any. Whatever happens we can wipe up afterwards.
This is simply a nuisance and I want it out of the way as quickly as
possible. After that--perhaps I can give you those few days I promised
you. O.K.?"

"It's all right with me," said Bonnie. "But an accelerated Sixty
Eight--"

* * * * *

They stood on a low hillock overlooking the ninety acres of bottom land
salvaged from the creek grass. Mark Jorden shaded his eyes and squinted
critically over the even stand of green shoots emerging from the bronzed
soil. Germination had been good in spite of the poor planting time. The
chance of getting a crop out was fair. If they didn't they'd be eating
shoe plastic in another few months.

The ten year old boy beside him clutched his hand and edged closer as if
there were something threatening him from the broad fields. "Isn't there
any way at all for Earth to send us food," he