He went to George Ord and asked him if it would be possible to build a hyperspace transmitter with the materials they had. "It's the one way we could have a chance to leave here without a ship of our own," he said. "By luring a Gern cruiser here and then taking it away from them." George shook his head. "A hyperspace transmitter _might_ be built, given enough years of time. But it would be useless without power. It would take a generator of such size that we'd have to melt down every gun, knife, axe, every piece of steel and iron we have. And then we'd be five hundred pounds short. On top of that, we'd have to have at least three hundred pounds more of copper for additional wire." "I didn't realize it would take such a large generator," he said after a silence. "I was sure we could have a transmitter." "Get me the metal and we can," George said. He sighed restlessly and there was almost hatred in his eyes as he looked at the inclosing walls of the cave. "You're not the only one who would like to leave our prison. Get me eight hundred pounds of copper and iron and I'll make the transmitter, some way." Eight hundred pounds of metal.... On Ragnarok that was like asking for the sun. The years went by and each year there was the same determined effort, the same lack of success. And each year the suns were farther south, marking the coming of the end of any efforts other than the one to survive. In the year thirty, when fall came earlier than ever before, he was forced to admit to himself the bleak and bitter fact: he and the others were not of the generation that would escape from Ragnarok. They were Earth-born--they were not adapted to Ragnarok and could not scour a world of 1.5 gravity for metals that might not exist. And vengeance was a luxury he could not have. A question grew in his mind where there had been only his hatred for the Gerns before. _What would become of the future generations on Ragnarok?_ With the question a scene from his childhood kept coming back to him; a late summer evening in the first year on Ragnarok and Julia sitting beside him in the warm starlight.... "You're my son, Billy," she had said. "The first I ever had. Now, before so very long, maybe I'll have another one." Hesitantly, not wanting to believe, he had asked, "What some of them said about how you might die then--it won't really happen, will it, Julia?" "It ... might." Then her arm had gone around him and she had said, "If I do I'll leave in my place a life that's more important than mine ever was.