She held Billy’s hand and waited for them with her heart hammering. She held her head high and composed herself with all the determination she could muster so that the arrogant Gerns would not see that she was afraid. Billy stood beside her as tall as his five years would permit, his teddy bear under his arm, and only the way his hand held to hers showed that he, too, was scared.

The door was flung open and two Gerns strode in.

They were big, dark men, with powerful, bulging muscles. They surveyed her and the room with a quick sweep of eyes that were like glittering obsidian, their mouths thin, cruel slashes in the flat, brutal planes of their faces.

“Your name?” snapped the one who carried a sheaf of occupation records.

“It’s”⁠—she tried to swallow the quaver in her voice and make it cool and unfrightened⁠—“Irene Lois Humbolt⁠— Mrs. Dale Humbolt.”

The Gern glanced at the papers. “Where is your husband?”

“He was in the X-ray room at⁠—”

“You are a Reject. Out⁠—down the corridor with the others.”

“My husband⁠—will he be a⁠—”

“ Outside! ”

It was the tone of voice that had preceded the blow in the other compartment and the Gern took a quick step toward her. She seized the two bags in one hand, not wanting to release Billy, and swung back to hurry out into the corridor. The other Gern jerked one of the bags from her hand and flung it to the floor. “Only one bag per person,” he said, and gave her an impatient shove that sent her and Billy stumbling through the doorway.