Moshe himself, though he claimed to be an atheist, joked about his divinity. He was both the son of David and the Sun-goddess. The blood of Solomon and Abraham and the Mikados flowed in a duke's mixture through his veins, he said, although it flowed somewhat sluggishly, since it was also cold Alaskan blood.

Now, looking at Yamanuchi, Broward thought of Scone's motives for sending this man with him. He was as good as any for a job like this, better than most. Yet, if he did not return, he would be a victim of Scone's "killing two birds with one stone" policy. Scone would have rid himself of the "Japanese Jew."

The two men greeted Broward. Wellers began at once to give them information by lecture and by the scope pictures on the console. Photographs, diagrams, mathematical equations, lines of text appeared on the large screen. Wellers explained in a high-pitched monotonous voice. Two hours later, the two soldiers knew thoroughly the essential details. The vital mathematical facts involving the navigational problems were already taped and checked and on the way to the ship. "Both the ship and your mobile suits will be extra-protected from the high radiation by the misnamed anti-fields," said Wellers. "You'll be safe—as long as the field generators work. They have been known to malfunction at critical occasions."

"I wish I could be with you," Wellers replied. "You'll be getting a direct observation of what's happened to Earth." Broward shuddered and said, "'If I had my way, you could take my place."

The IP shrilled. "Captain Broward! Report at once to Section G."

Broward went to the IP. "Broward speaking. Any idea why I'm wanted in G?"

"This is Eilers, Sperm Bank. We want a deposit, Captain. Scone's orders."

Broward said, "Received. Be there in a minute." Then, as an afterthought, "What about Captain Yamanuchi"

"I've got no orders about him."

"Has he already made a deposit?"

"Young and Yexa are the only ones in the Y file. Why?"' "Nothing," said Broward.

He was sick. Yamanuchi, the handsome, intelligent, and tough one, was to be denied a chance to contribute to the betterment of the human species. Scone did not want "tainted" genes.

"Don't look so stricken," Moshe said. He was smiling. "I know exactly why I'm not being asked to commit the sin of Onan. But Scone's dealing with a very tricky Jew. I've already taken the necessary steps—horizontally, that is, if you can take steps horizontally—to ensure that I have at least two children. Maybe more, since twins run in my family."

Broward grinned and said, "Do I understand... ? Why, you philandering barnyard rooster, you!"

"If there is one trait I have inherited from my remote ancestor, King David, it is a powerful hunger for beautiful women and the ability to, pardon the expression, draw them like flies to honey. There are two lovely females—discretion and an old-fashioned sense of honor seal my lips concerning their names—who at this moment are nourishing the fruits of our loves in their wombs.

"In death-time, a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of love. In other words, when I considered that my line, my species, might become extinct unless I did my duty, I seed my duty and I done it, no pun intended it. Although I must admit I enjoyed it, and I don't mean the pun."

"If Scone hears of this," Broward said, "he'll have you shot. You know what a stiff-necked moralist he is, when it comes to sex, anyway."

"While others dawdle, I delve," Moshe replied. "And he won't hear of it. Not unless..."

Wellers said, "I didn't hear a thing. I wouldn't want to start an investigation of that sort. The hunters might start sniffing around my lair and unearth the fact that I sometimes mix a high-minded concern for mathematics with an interest in things they might consider low-minded."

The two soldiers laughed and walked from the lab. Outside Broward said, "Something puzzles me. You said you wouldn't commit the sin of Onan even if ordered to. Why not? An orthodox Hebrew might object to giving his sperm to the bank, but you... ?"

"We'll talk about that later," Moshe replied. "During the trip out."

Suddenly, he lost his gayety; his face was grave.

They walked silently down the corridors hewn out of basalt Just before they parted at a junction, Moshe rubbed his chin. In a low tope, as if talking to himself or some third party, he said, "All right. I'll grow a beard."

"What?" Broward exclaimed, but Moshe was walking away.

A moment later, Broward heard his name over the IP. It was followed by an announcement that the takeoff was delayed. There was a malfunction in the anti-radiation field generator. His scalp felt icy; he remembered Wellers' comment about this possibility.

After promising to check in from time to time, Broward walked towards the conference room. He passed through silent hall after hall, his way lit before him by bright luminescent panels which sprang into glow as he neared them. Before him was blackness and after him was blackness. He was enveloped by a moving halo. Was this, he thought, the plight of the human being? Unable to see the past and the future, only capable of viewing his immediate time and location. True, he knew where he had been and thought he knew where he was going. But, if the lights failed, could he go towards his destination without taking the wrong turn?

Under his feet, the rock trembled as the borers far under drove in their quest for water. What if their goal turned out to be a deposit of some combination of explosive chemicals? The blast could conceivably wreck the base and kill every one on it. Then what? There would be a few men and women left on the Russian and Chinese bases and a few in the Ganymedan and Mercutian bases (if these still existed). The people of Mars (the enemies) would determine the future of mankind (if the Martians had not been exterminated). It was true that the large Axe fleet was moving towards Mars. But the ships might contain very few women.

What if Nature or God or Whoever decided that mankind was so few in numbers he was now below the survival level? And, in the so far inscrutable ways of the universe, the women left would just cease to bear? Consider those species that had in the past been reduced to near-extinction on Earth. A few females still lived, theoretically capable of reproducing and of starting anew the species. But, for some reason, they could not have young. Nature had called a halt; she had turned her back on the species.

If this should happen to us, thought Broward, we deserve it. Man, the Mad Thinker, the Irrational Rationalist, the Illogical Logician who thought himself into oblivion. "The next thing you know," he muttered to himself, "I'll be believing in God." And he considered how the loneliness and the darkness had thrust him so swiftly into the mental condition of the frightened savage.

"What's the matter?"

"Take your hands off me!" she cried. "You... you man!"

"All right," he said gently. "What's my gender done to yours?"

Tears streamed down her cheeks. "They just decided that it's only fair... for the men, of course, never mind us... oh, those men..."

"You're incoherent," he said. "And all the time I thought you were Ingrid."

"Jokes! Jokes at a time like this! Can't you see I'm crying?"

"I'm just trying to calm you down."

She put her head on his shoulder. His arms went around her, and her shoulders began to shake while her tears wet his uniform.

"They've decided... to make every woman be the mate of two or more men... or whatever the proportion of men to women might be! It's for the good of humanity... they say. And there were women who voted along with the men for it! Women!"

"Did Scone push that through?" said Broward. "That..."

Ingrid stepped back from his arms and looked up at him. "Oh, no, I'll say that for him. He fought it. He said we shouldn't do anything about the man-woman ratio until we'd settled the account with Mars. For once, he couldn't get his way. He was shouted down. Those men were like a pack of howling wolves."