id Bordman curtly--and he was somehow
astonished to know that he did expect to leave a report rather than make
one; he accepted the hopelessness of the colony's future--"on the
degree-of-completion of the work here. But since there's an emergency, I
have also to leave a report on the measures taken to meet it."

The report would be futile, of course. As futile as the coup-records
Aletha was compiling, which would be read only after everybody on the
planet was dead. But Bordman knew he'd write it. It was unthinkable that
he shouldn't.

"Redfeather tells me," he added, again curtly, "that the power in
storage can be used to cool the colony buildings--and therefore condense
drinking water from the air--for just about six months. There is food
for about six months. If one lets the buildings warm up a little, to
stretch the fuel, there won't be enough water to drink. Go on half
rations to stretch the food, and there won't be enough water to last and
the power will give out anyhow. No profit there!"

There were nods. The matter had been thrashed out long before.

"There's food in the _Warlock_ overhead," Bordman went on coldly, "but
they can't use the landing boat more than a few times. It can't use ship
fuel. No refrigeration to hold it stable. They couldn't land more than a
ton of supplies all told. There are five hundred of us here. No help
there!"

He looked from one to another.

"So we live comfortably," he told them with irony, "until our food and
water and minimum night-comfort run out together. Anything we do to try
to stretch anything is useless because of what happens to something
else. Redfeather tells me you accept the situation. What are you
doing--since you accept it?"

Dr. Chuka said amiably:

"We've picked a storage place for our records, and our miners are
blasting out space in which to put away the record of our actions to the
last possible moment. It will be sandproof. Our mechanics are building a
broadcast unit we'll spare a tiny bit of fuel for. It will run
twenty-odd years, broadcasting directions so it can be found regardless
of how the terrain is changed by drifting sand."

"And," said Bordman, "the fact that nobody will be here to give
directions."

Chuka added benignly:

"We're doing a great deal of singing, too. My people are ... ah ...
religious. When we are ... ah ... no longer here ... there have been
boastings that there'll be a well-practiced choir ready to go to work in
the next