onded along already established lines."

I paused and noted the expressions on the faces of the crew. Maybe it
was that, and maybe it was the fact that my leg hadn't held up very well
under the beating I'd given it. And maybe it was twelve good
men--Anyway, I spent the next half hour pulling no punches. When I'd
finished, Interstel had regained its reputation. Nobody--neither
short-timer nor veteran--likes to hear dead comrades characterized as
"stupid." But I figured the crew would remember.

Moya seemed unfazed, as if he'd paid scant attention to my speech; he
rubbed his chin reflectively.

"The bug suits--"

"Were they any protection? At long range, probably. But up close--"

Moya apparently could think of nothing more to say.

We radiated the danger area, left 231 for a pick-up team, and headed
for home.

* * * * *

Moya walked with me from Quarantine to the Terra Ramp. The leg still
wasn't right.

"Did you mention me kindly in your report?"

"Of course not," I told him.

He chuckled and put his hand on my shoulder.

"About Ben Stuart--"

"It's a nasty job," I said.

"Did he rate getting cashiered?"

"He did, Tony."

"Well, take care of yourself, Ivy."

The redhead again was on duty at the outbound desk. She ignored me.

_Xanadu!_

It was night, and there was a heavy fog. Standing alone on the open
promenade outside the dome, I was grateful that I couldn't see the
sky--and the ominous stars that were not so far away.

A couple of months later, I heard that Epsilon-Terra had received its
official name: _Atri-Terra_. _Atri_ from attrition. I've wondered ever
since whether GS based the choice upon the secular or the theological
definition.

THE END

Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced from _Analog_ November 1961. Extensive
research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on
this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical
errors have been corrected without note.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Attrition, by Jim Wannamaker

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