He found that the prowlers had killed seventy during the night. One hundred more had died from the Hell Fever that often followed exposure and killed within an hour.

He went the half mile to the group that had arrived on the second cruiser as soon as he had eaten a delayed breakfast. He saw, before he had quite reached the other group, that the Constellation ’s Lieutenant Commander, Vincent Lake, was in charge of it.

Lake, a tall, hard-jawed man with pale blue eyes under pale brows, walked forth to meet him as soon as he recognized him.

“Glad to see you’re still alive,” Lake greeted him. “I thought that second Gern blast got you along with the others.”

“I was visiting midship and wasn’t home when it happened,” he said.

He looked at Lake’s group of Rejects, in their misery and uncertainty so much like his own, and asked, “How was it last night?”

“Bad⁠—damned bad,” Lake said. “Prowlers and Hell Fever, and no wood for fires. Two hundred died last night.”

“I came down to see if anyone was in charge here and to tell them that we’ll have to move into the woods at once⁠—today. We’ll have plenty of wood for the fires there, some protection from the wind, and by combining our defenses we can stand off the prowlers better.”

Lake agreed. When the brief discussion of plans was finished he asked, “How much do you know about Ragnarok?”

“Not much,” Prentiss answered. “We didn’t stay to study it very long. There are no heavy metals on Ragnarok, other than bare traces, nor any other natural resources of any value. We gave Ragnarok a quick survey and when the sixth man died we marked it on the chart as uninhabitable and went on our way.