_I and my god-friends sail off in our great round silver boats_, Dotty went on dreaming. _The other gods are angry and scared. They are frightened of the thoughts we may think in secret. They follow us to hunt us down. There are many more of them than of us._ * * * * * As Celeste and Theodor entered the committee room, Rosalind Wolver--a glitter of platinum against darkness--came in through the opposite door and softly shut it behind her. Frieda, a fair woman in blue robes, got up from the round table. Celeste turned away with outward casualness as Theodor kissed his two other wives. She was pleased to note that Edmund seemed impatient too. A figure in close-fitting black, unrelieved except for two red arrows at the collar, he struck her as embodying very properly the serious, fateful temper of the moment. He took two briefcases from his vest pocket and tossed them down on the table beside one of the microfilm projectors. "I suggest we get started without waiting for Ivan," he said. Frieda frowned anxiously. "It's ten minutes since he phoned from the Deep Space Bar to say he was starting right away. And that's hardly a two minutes walk." Rosalind instantly started toward the outside door. "I'll check," she explained. "Oh, Frieda, I've set the mike so you'll hear if Dotty calls." Edmund threw up his hands. "Very well, then," he said and walked over, switched on the picture and stared out moodily. Theodor and Frieda got out their briefcases, switched on projectors, and began silently checking through their material. Celeste fiddled with the TV and got a newscast. But she found her eyes didn't want to absorb the blocks of print that rather swiftly succeeded each other, so, after a few moments, she shrugged impatiently and switched to audio. At the noise, the others looked around at her with surprise and some irritation, but in a few moments they were also listening. "The two rocket ships sent out from Mars Base to explore the orbital positions of Phobos and Deimos--that is, the volume of space they'd be occupying if their positions had remained normal--report finding masses of dust and larger debris. The two masses of fine debris are moving in the same orbits and at the same velocities as the two vanished moons, and occupy roughly the same volumes of space, though the mass of material is hardly a hundredth that of the moons. Physicists have ventured no statements as to whether this constitutes a confirmation of the Disintegration Hypothesis. "However, we're mighty pleased at this news here. There's a marked lessening of tension. The finding of the debris--solid, tangible stuff--seems to lift the whole affair out of the supernatural miasma in which some of us have been tempted to plunge it. One-hundredth of the moons has been found. "The rest will also be!" Edmund had turned his back on the window. Frieda and Theodor had switched off their projectors.