'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 nearsighted 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'm 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'm 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! 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.'

Sweeney looked sick. 'What about the neuronic whip he always carries?'

'It won't kill us. He can't get us all before we pin him down, anyway.'

'Eric,' said Williams bluntly, 'you're a fool.'

Chamberlain flushed and his stub-fingered fists closed slowly.

'I'm just in the mood for a little practice persuasion. Call me that again, will you?'

'Sit down!' Williams scarcely bothered to look up. 'And don't work so hard justifying my epithet. All of us are nervous and keyed-up, but that doesn't mean we ought to go altogether crazy. Not yet, anyway. First of all, even discounting the whip, mobbing our jailer won't be particularly successful.

'We've only seen one, but that one is from the Arcturian System. He's better than seven feet tall, and comfortably past the three-hundred-pound mark. He'd mop us up - all ten of us - with his bare fists. I thought you had one run-in with him already, Eric.'

There was a thickish silence.

Williams added, 'And even if we could knock him out and finish as many others as there may be in the ship, we still haven't the slightest idea where we are or how to get back or even how to run the ship.' A pause. Then, 'Well?'

'Nuts!' Chamberlain turned away, and glowered in silence.

The door kicked open and the giant Acturian entered. With one hand, he emptied the bag he carried, and with the other kept his neuronic whip carefully leveled.

'Last meal,' he grunted.

There was a general scramble for the rolling cans, still lukewarm from recent heating. Morton glared at his with disgust.

'Say,' he spoke stumblingly in Galactic, 'can't you give us a change? I'm tired of this rotten goulash of yours. This is the fourth can!'

'So what? It's your last meal,' the Arcturian snapped, and left.

A horrified paralysis prevailed.

'What did he mean by that?' gulped someone huskily.

'They're going to kill us!' Sweeney was round-eyed, the thin edge of panic in his voice.

Williams' mouth was dry and he felt unreasoning anger grow against Sweeney's contagious fright. He paused - the kid was only seventeen - and said huskily, 'Stow it, will you? Let's eat.'

It was two hours later that he felt the shuddering jar that meant the landing and end of.the journey. In that time, no one had spoken, but Williams could feel the pall of fear choke tighter with the minutes.

Spica had dipped crimsonly below the horizon and there was a chill wind blowing. The ten Earthmen, huddled together miserably upon the rock-strewn hilltop, watched their captors sullenly. It was the huge Arcturian, Myron Tubal, that did the talking, while the green-skinned Vegan, Bill Sefan, and the fuzzy little Denebian, Wri Forase, remained placidly in the background.

'You've got your fire,' said the Arcturian gruffly, 'and there's plenty of wood about to keep it going. That will keep the beasts away. We'll leave you a pair of whips before we go, and those will do as protection, if any of the aborigines of the planet bother you. You will have to use your own wits as far as food, water and shelter are concerned.'

He turned away. Chamberlain let loose with a sudden roar, and leaped after the departing Arcturian. He was sent reeling back with an effortless heave of the other's arm.