The Campus of Arcturus University, on Arcturus’s second planet, Eron, is a dull place during mid-year vacations and, moreover, a hot one, so that Myron Tubal, sophomore, found life boring and uncomfortable. For the fifth time that day, he looked in at the Undergraduate Lounge in a desperate attempt at locating an acquaintance, and was at last gratified to behold Bill Sefan, a green-skinned youngster from Vega’s fifth planet.

Sefan, like Tubal, had flunked Biosociology and was staying through vacation to study for a make-up exam. Things like that weave strong bonds between sophomore and sophomore.

Tubal grunted a greeting, dropped his huge hairless body-he was a native of the Arcturian System itself-into the largest chair and said:

“Have you seen the new freshmen yet?”

“Already! It’s six weeks before the fall semester starts!”

Tubal yawned. “These are a special breed of frosh. They’re the very first batch from the Solarian System-ten of them.”

“Solarian System? You mean that new system that joined the Galactic Federation three-four years ago?”

“That’s the one. Their world capital is called Earth, I think.”

“Well, what about them?”

“Nothing much. They’re just here, that’s all. Some of them have hair on the upper lip, and very silly it looks, too. Otherwise, they look like any of a dozen or so other breeds of Humanoids.”

Itwas at this point that the door flew open and little Wri Forase ran in. He was from Deneb’s single planet, and the short, gray fuzz that covered his head and face bristled with agitation, while his large purple eyes gleamed excitedly.

“Say,” he twittered breathlessly, “have you seen the Earthmen?”

Sefan sighed. “Isn’t anyone ever going to change the subject? Tubal was just telling me about them.”

“He was?” Forase seemed disappointed. “But-but did he tell you these were that abnormal race they made such a fuss over when the Solarian System entered the Federation?”

“They looked all right to me,” said Tubal.

“I’m not talking about them from the physical standpoint,” said the Denebian disgustedly. “It’s the mental aspect of the case. Psychology! That’s the stuff?” Forase was going to be a psychologist some day.

“Oh, that! Well, what’s wrong with them?”

“Their mob psychology as a race is all wrong,” babbled Forase. “Instead of becoming less emotional with numbers, as is the case with every other type of Humanoid known, they become more emotional! In groups, these Earthmen riot, panic, go crazy. The more there are, the worse it is. So help me, we even invented a new mathematical notation to handle the problem. Look!”

He had his pocket-pad and stylus out in one rapid motion; but Tubal’s hand clamped down upon them before the stylus so much as made a mark.

Tubal said, “Whoa! I’ve got a walloping lulu of an idea.”

“Imagine!” murmured Sefan.

Tubal ignored him. He smiled again, and his hand rubbed thoughtfully over his bald dome.

“Listen,” he said, with sudden briskness. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.

Albert Williams, late of Earth, stirred in his sleep and became conscious of a prodding finger exploring the space between his second and third ribs. He opened his eyes, swiveled his head, stared stupidly; then gasped, shot upright, and reached for the light switch.

“Don’t move,” said the shadowy figure beside his bed. There was a muted click, and the Earthman found himself centered in the pearly beam of a pocket Hash.

He blinked and said, “Who the blasted devil are you?”

“You are going to get out of bed,” replied the apparition stolidly. “Dress, and come with me.”

Williams grinned savagely. “Try and make me.”

There was no answer, but the Hash beam shifted slightly and fell upon the shadow’s other hand. It held a “neuronic whip,” that pleasant little weapon that paralyzes the vocal cords and twists nerves into so many knots of agony. Williams swallowed hard, and got out of bed.

He dressed in silence, and then said:

“All right, what do I do now?”

The gleaming “whip” gestured, and the Earthman moved toward the door.

“Just walk ahead,” said the unknown.

Williams moved out of the room, along the silent corridor, and down eight stories without daring to look back. Out upon the campus he stopped, and felt metal probe the small of his back.

“Do you know where Obel Hall is?”

Williams, nodding, began walking. He walked past Obel Hall, turned right at University Avenue, and after half a mile stepped off the roads and past the trees. A spaceship hulked dimly in the darkness, with ports closely curtained and only a dim light showing where the airlock opened a crack.

“Get in!” He was shoved up a flight of stairs and into a small room.

He blinked, looked about him and counted aloud.

“-seven, eight, nine, and I make ten. They’ve got us all, I guess.”

“It’s no guess,” growled Eric Chamberlain sourly. “It’s a certainty.”

He was rubbing his hand. “I’ve been here an hour.”

“What’s wrong with the mitt?” asked Williams.

“I sprained it on the jaw of the rat that brought me here. He’s as tough as a spaceship’s hull.”

Williams seated himself cross-legged upon the floor and rested his head against the wall.

“Has anyone any idea as to what this is all about?”

“Kidnaping!” said little Joey Sweeney. His teeth were chattering.

“What the devil for?” snorted Chamberlain. “If any of us are millionaires, I hadn’t heard of it. I know I’m not!”

Williams said, “Look, let’s not go off the deep end. Kidnaping or anything of that sort is. out. These people can’t be criminals. It stands to reason that a civilization that has developed psychology to the extent this Galactic Federation has, would be able to wipe out crime without raising a sweat.”

“Pirates,” grunted Lawrence Marsh. “I don’t think so, but it’s just a suggestion.”

“Nuts!” said Williams. “Piracy is a frontier phenomenon. This region of space has been civilized for tens of millennia.”

“Just the same, they had guns,” insisted Joe, “and I don’t like it.” He had left his glasses in his room and peered about in near-sighted anxiety.

“That doesn’t mean much,” answered Williams. “Now, I’ve been thinking. Here we are-ten newly arrived freshmen at Arcturus u. On our first night here, we’re bundled mysteriously out of our rooms and into a strange spaceship. That suggests something to me. How about it?”

Sidney Morton raised his head from his arms long enough to say sleepily:

“I’ve thought of it, too. It looks like we’re in for one hell of a hazing. Gents, I think the local sophs are just having good, clean fun.”

“Exactly,” agreed Williams. “Anyone have any other ideas?”

Silence. “ All right, then, so there isn’t anything to do but wait. Personally, I’ve going to catch up on my sleep. They can wake me up if they need me.”

There was a jar at that moment and he fell off balance. “Well, we’re off-wherever we’re going.”

Moments later, Bill Sefan hesitated just an instant before entering the control room. When he finally did, it was to face a highly excited Wri Forase.

“How is it working?” demanded the Denebian.

“Rotten,” responded Sefan sourly. “If they’re panicked, then I’ve damned. They’re going to sleep.”

“Asleep! All of them? But what were they saying?”

“How do I know? They weren’t speaking Galactic, and I can’t make head or tail out of their infernal foreign gibberish.”

Forase threw his hands into the air in disgust.

Tubal spoke finally. “Listen, Forase, I’m cutting a class in Biosoc.-which I can’t afford. You guaranteed the psychology of this stunt. If it turns out to be a flop, I’m not going to like it.”

“Well, for the love of Deneb,” grated Forase desperately, “you two are a fine pair of yellow-bellies! Did you expect them to start screaming and kicking right off? Sizzling Arcturus I Wait till we get to the Spican System, will you? When we maroon them overnight-”

He tittered suddenly. “This is going to be the fanciest trick since they tied those stink-bats to the chromatic organ on Concert Night.”

Tubal cracked a grin, but Sefan leaned back in his chair and remarked thoughtfully.

“What if someone-say, President Wynn-hears about this?”

The Arcturian at the controls shrugged. “It’s only a hazing. They’ll “go easy.

“Don’t play dumb, M. T. This isn’t kid stuff. Planet Four, Spica-the whole Spican System, in fact-is banned to Galactic ships, and you know that. It’s got a sub-Humanoid race on it. They’re supposed to develop entirely free of interference until they discover interstellar travel on their own. That’s the law, and they’re strict about it. Space! If they find out about this, we’ll be in the soup for fair.”

Tubal turned in his seat. “How in Arcturus do you expect Prexy Wynn-damn his thick hide!-to find out about us? Now, mind you, I’m not saying the story won’t spread around the campus, because half the fun will be killed if we have to keep it to ourselves. But how will names come out? No one will squeal. You know that.”

“Okay,” said Sefan, and shrugged.

And then Tubal said, “Ready for hyper-space!”

He compressed keys and there was the queer internal wrench that marked the ship’s departure from normal space.

The ten Earthmen were rather the worse for wear, and looked it. Lawrence Marsh squinted at his watch again.

“Two-thirty,” he said. “That’s thirty-six hours now. I wish they’d get this over with.”

“This isn’t a hazing,” moaned Sweeney. “It takes too long.”

Williams grew red. “What do you all look half-dead about? They’ve been feeding us regularly, haven’t they? They haven’t tied us up, have they? I should say it was pretty evident that they were taking good care of us.”

“Or,” came Sidney Morton’s discontented drawl, “fattening us up for the slaughter.”

He paused, and everyone stiffened. There was no mistaking the queer internal wrench they had felt.

“Get that!” said Eric Chamberlain in sudden frenzy. “We’re back in normal space again, and that means we’re only an hour or two from wherever we’re going. We’ve got to do something!”

“Hear, hear,” Williams snorted. “But what?”

“There are ten of us, aren’t there?” shouted Chamberlain, puffing out his chest. “Well, I’ve only seen one of them so far. Next time he comes in, and we’ve got another meal due us pretty soon, we’re going to mob him.”