I keyed for General. "Men, this is the Captain," I said. "It looks as though our first contact with an alien race has been successfully completed. He is now at a distance of three hundred and moving off fast. Our screens are blown, but there's no real damage. And we have a supply of fresh food aboard; now let's get back to business. That colony can't be far off." That may have been rushing it some, but if the food supply we'd gotten was a dud, we were finished anyway. We watched the direct-view screen till the ship was lost; then followed on radar. "It's moving right along, Captain," Joyce said, "accelerating at about two gee's." "Good riddance," Clay said. "I don't like dealing with armed maniacs." "They were screwballs all right," I said, "but they couldn't have happened along at a better time. I only wish we had been in a position to squeeze a few answers out of them." "Yes, sir," Clay said. "Now that the whole thing's over, I'm beginning to think of a lot of questions myself." The annunciator hummed. I heard what sounded like hoarse breathing. I glanced at the indicator light. It was the cargo deck mike that was open. I keyed. "If you have a report, Chilcote, go ahead," I said. Suddenly someone was shouting into the mike, incoherently. I caught words, cursing. Then Chilcote's voice, "Captain," he said. "Captain, please come quick." There was a loud clatter, noise, then only the hum of the mike. "Take over, Clay," I said, and started back to the cargo deck at a dead run. * * * * * Men crowded the corridor, asking questions, milling. I forced my way through, found Kramer surrounded by men, shouting. "Break this up," I shouted. "Kramer, what's your report?" Chilcote walked past me, pale as chalk. I pushed through to Kramer. "Get hold of yourself, and make your report, Kramer," I said. "What started this riot?" Kramer stopped shouting, and stood looking at me, panting. The crowded men fell silent. "I gave you a job to do, Major," I said; "opening a cargo can. Now you take it from there." "Yeah, Captain," he said. "We got it open. No wires, no traps. We hauled the load out of the can on to the floor. It was one big frozen mass, wrapped up in some kind of netting. Then we pulled the covering off." "All right, go ahead," I said. "That load of fresh meat your star-born pals gave us consists of about six families of human beings; men, women, and children." Kramer was talking for the crowd now, shouting. "Those last should be pretty tender when you ration out our ounce a week, Captain." The men milled, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, as I thrust through to the cargo lock. The door stood ajar and wisps of white vapor curled out into the passage. I stepped through the door. It was bitter cold in the lock. Near the outer hatch the bulky cannister, rimed with white frost, lay in a pool of melting ice. Before it lay the half shrouded bulk that it had contained. I walked closer.