g began to take form
out of the dead dust of the star satellite. Several of the colonists who
had lost everything aboard the crashed ships were made civilian
officials in charge of the water, sanitation, and power departments.

The three cadets worked harder than they had ever worked before. Once,
when the jet barge needed to be refueled, Vidac had ordered them to
salvage the remaining reactant from the crashed ships and they worked
forty-eight hours in lead-lined suits transferring the reactant fuel to
the jet barge.

In addition, Roger was now hard at work building a communications center
and a network all over the satellite. Communicators were placed at
intervals of ten miles, so that any stranded colonist was within walking
distance of help.

The four hundred ships that had crashed had been loaded mostly with
farming equipment, and the seriousness of the situation was discussed at
great length by Logan and other farmer colonists. Vidac had tried to
salvage some of the more basic tools needed in farming the dusty
satellite soil, but nothing had come of it. Three to five years had to
pass before the radioactivity would be harmless.

"We'll have to farm with chemicals," announced Vidac finally to a
meeting of the farmers. "I know that chemical crops are not as tasteful
as naturals, but they are larger, more abundant, and nourishing." He
paused and looked at the men. "However, even chemicals are not the whole
answer."

"Well," said Hyram Logan, who had become the unofficial spokesman for
the farmers, "give us the chemicals and let's get to work. Everyone here
knows how to grow crops out of a test tube!"

"I'm afraid it won't be as simple as that," said Vidac. "Perhaps you
remember that you paid over part of your future profits during the trip
out from Atom City?"

There was a murmur from the group of men as the outrageous incident was
brought up. Most of the men felt that Vidac had been directly
responsible. Vidac held up his hand.

"Quiet, please!"

The men became silent.

"You will have to purchase the necessary material for farming from me.
You will sign over one-half of your future profits to the treasurer of
the Roald City Fund, or you don't farm."

"What's the Roald City Fund?" demanded Isaac Tupin, a short, thin man
with an uncanny knack for farming. He had been very successful on Mars
and had been asked to institute his methods of desert farming on the
dusty satellite.

"The Roald City Fund," sa