Joan nodded absently, rubbing her eyes. "It's a shame we need anything from Saturn. Have you had breakfast, Bryan?"

"Oh, yes, thanks – I've eaten." Erickson turned his back to the wall. "Sure is good to get in out of the cold. You certainly keep your house nice and neat. I wish my wife kept our place this neat."

Joan crossed to the windows and let up the shades. "What do we use from Saturn?"

"It would have to be nymphite, of all things. Anything else we could give up. But not nymphite."

"What is nymphite used for?"

"All aptitude testing equipment. Without nymphite we wouldn't be able to tell who was fit for what occupation, including President of the World Council."

"I see."

"With nymphite testers we can determine what each person is good for and what kind of work he should be doing. Nymphite is the basic tool of modern society. With it we classify and grade ourselves. If anything should happen to the supply…"

"And it all comes from Saturn?"

"I'm afraid so. Now the natives are rioting, trying to take over the nymphite mines. It's going to be a tough struggle. They're big. The government is having to call up everyone it can get."

Suddenly Joan gasped. "Everyone?" Her hand flew to her mouth. "Even women?"

"I'm afraid so. Sorry, Joan. You know it isn't my idea. Nobody wanted to do it. But if we're going to save all these things we have -"

"But whom will that leave?"

Erickson did not answer. He was sitting down at the desk, making out a card. He passed it to her. Joan took it automatically. "Your unit card."

"But who will be left?" Joan asked again. "Can't you tell me? Will anyone be left?"

The rocketship from Orion landed with a great crashing roar. Exhaust valves poured out clouds of waste material, as the jet compressors cooled into silence.

There was no sound for a time. Then the hatch was unscrewed carefully and swung inward. Cautiously N'tgari-3 stepped out, waving an atmosphere-testing cone ahead of him.

"Results?" his companion queried, his thoughts crossing to N'tgari-3.

"Too thin to breathe. For us. But enough for some kinds of life." N'tgari-3 gazed around him, across the hills and plains, off in the distance. "Certainly is quiet."

"Not a sound. Or any sign of life." His companions emerged. "What's that over there?"

"Where?" N'tgari-3 asked.

"Over that way." Luci'n-6 pointed with his polar antenna. "See?"

"Looks like some kind of building units. Some sort of mass structure."

The two Orionians raised their launch to hatch-level and slid it out onto the ground. With N'tgari-3 at the wheel they set off across the plain toward the raised spot visible on the horizon. Plants grew on all sides, some tall and sturdy, some fragile and small with multi-colored blossoms.

"Plenty of immobile forms," Luci'n-6 observed.

They passed through a field of gray-orange plants, thousands of stalks growing uniformly, endless plants all exactly alike.

"They look as if they were artificially sowed," N'tgari-3 murmured.

"Slow the launch down. We're coming to some sort of structure."

N'tgari-3 slowed down the launch almost to a stop. The two Orionians leaned out the port, gazing in interest.

A lovely structure rose up, surrounded by plants of all kinds, tall plants, carpets of low plants, beds of plants with astonishing blossoms. The structure itself was neat and attractive, obviously the artifact of an advanced culture.

N'tgari-3 leaped out of the launch. "Maybe we're about to encounter the legendary Beings from Terra." He hurried across the carpet of plants, a long uniform ground-covering, up to the front porch of the structure.

Luci'n-6 followed him. They examined the door. "How does it open?" Luci'n-6 asked.

They burned a neat hole in the lock and the door slid back. Lights came on automatically. The house was warm, heated by the walls.

"How – how developed! How very advanced."

They wandered from room to room, gazing around them at the vidscreen, at the elaborate kitchen, at the furniture in the bedroom, at the drapes, the chairs, the bed.

"But where are the Terrans?" N'tgari-3 said at last.

"They'll be right back."

N'tgari-3 paced back and forth. "This gives me an odd feeling. I can't put my antenna on it. A sort of uncomfortable feeling." He hesitated. "It isn't possible they're not coming back, is it?"

"Why not?"

Luci'n-6 began to fiddle with the vidscreen. "Hardly likely. We'll wait for them. They'll be back."

N'tgari-3 peered out the window nervously. "I don't see them. But they must be around. They couldn't just walk off and leave all this behind. Where would they go? Why?"

"They'll be back," Luci'n-6 got some static on the vidscreen. "This isn't very impressive."

"I have a feeling they won't."

"If the Terrans don't return," Luci'n-6 said thoughtfully, fooling with the vidscreen controls, "it will be one of the greatest puzzles known to archaeology."

"I'll keep watching for them," N'tgari-3 said impassively.

Martians Come in Clouds

Ted Barnes came in all grim-faced and trembling. He threw his coat and newspaper over the chair. "Another cloud," he muttered. "A whole cloud of them! One was up on Johnson's roof. They were getting it down with a long pole of some kind."

Lena came and took his coat to the closet. "I'm certainly glad you hurried right on home."

"I get the shakes when I see one of them." Ted threw himself down on the couch, groping in his pockets for cigarettes. "Honest to God it really gets me."

He lit up, blowing smoke around him in a gray mist. His hands were beginning to quiet down. He wiped sweat from his upper lip and loosened his necktie. "What's for dinner?"

"Ham." Lena bent over to kiss him.

"How come? Some sort of occasion?"

"No." Lena moved back toward the kitchen door. "It's that canned Dutch ham your mother gave us. I thought it was about time we opened it."

Ted watched her disappear into the kitchen, slim and attractive in her bright print apron. He sighed, relaxing and leaning back. The quiet living-room, Lena in the kitchen, the television set playing to itself in the corner, made him feel a little better.

He unlaced his shoes and kicked them off. The whole incident had taken only a few minutes but it had seemed much longer. An eternity – standing rooted to the sidewalk, staring up at Johnson's roof. The crowd of shouting men. The long pole. And…

… and it, draped over the peak of the roof, the shapeless gray bundle evading the end of that pole. Creeping this way and that, trying to keep from being dislodged.

Ted shuddered. His stomach turned over. He had stood fixed to the spot, gazing up, unable to look away. Finally some fellow running past had stepped on his foot, breaking the spell and freeing him. He had hurried on, getting away as fast as he could, relieved and shaken. Lord…!

The back door slammed. Jimmy wandered into the living-room, his hands in his pockets. "Hi, Dad." He stopped by the bathroom door, looking across at his father. "What's the matter? You're all funny looking."

"Jimmy, come over here." Ted stubbed out his cigarette. "I want to talk to you."

"I have to go wash for dinner."

"Come here and sit down. Dinner can wait." Jimmy came over and slid up onto the couch.

"What's the matter? What is it?"

Ted studied his son. Round little face, tousled hair hanging down in his eyes. Smudge of dirt on one cheek. Jimmy was eleven. Was this a good time to tell him? Ted set his jaw grimly. Now was as good a time as any – while it was strong in his mind.

"Jimmy, there was a Martian up on Johnson's roof. I saw it on the way home from the bus depot."

Jimmy's eyes grew round. "A buggie?"