m his
friends and family.

He had reached the name _Donnell, Steve_. No answer came. Captain
Donnell called his name a second time, then a third. A tense silence
prevailed in the Common Room of the starship, where the Crew was
assembled.

Finally Alan made himself break the angry silence. "He's not here, Dad.
And he's not coming back," he said in a hesitant voice. And then he had
had to explain to his father the whole story of his unruly, aggressive
twin brother's plan to jump ship--and how Steve had tried to persuade
him to leave the _Valhalla_ too.

Steve had been weary of the endless shuttling from star to star, of
forever ferrying colonists from one place to another without ever
standing on the solid ground of a planet yourself for more than a few
days here, a week there.

Alan had felt tired of it too--they all did, at some time or
another--but he did not share his twin's rebellious nature, and he had
not gone over the hill with Steve.

Alan remembered his father's hard, grim expression as he had been told
the story. Captain Donnell's reaction had been curt, immediate, and
thoroughly typical: he had nodded, closed the roll book, and turned to
Art Kandin, the _Valhalla's_ First Officer and the Captain's
second-in-command.

"Remove Crewman Donnell from the roster," he had snapped. "All other
hands are on board. Prepare for blastoff."

Within the hour the flaming jets of the _Valhalla's_ planetary drive had
lifted the great ship from Earth. They had left immediately for Alpha
Centauri, four and a half light-years away. The round trip had taken the
_Valhalla_ just six weeks.

During those six weeks, better than nine years had passed on Earth.

Alan Donnell was seventeen years old.

His twin brother Steve was now twenty-six.

* * * * *

"Happy rising, Alan," called a high, sharp voice as he headed past the
blue-painted handholds of Gravity Deck 12 on his way toward the mess
hall.

Startled, he glanced up, and then snorted in disgust as he saw who had
hailed him. It was Judy Collier, a thin, stringy-haired girl of about
fourteen whose family had joined the Crew some five ship-years back. The
Colliers were still virtual newcomers to the tight group on the
ship--the family units tended to remain solid and self-contained--but
they had managed to fit in pretty well by now.

"Going to eat?" she asked.

"Right enough," said Alan, continuing to walk down the plastifoam-lined