He wondered if there would still be a quiet stream and a green shady place beside it where a death-weary man, relieved at last of responsibility, could rest and dream no more.... Those things went on, if men didn't change them. And a pine forest where he and young Knof could go camping, and lie on their backs at night and gaze at the glittering constellations, far away, out of reach.... He wasn't sure he would want to do that, though. Suddenly a faint cushioned jar went through the great ship; it seemed to falter one moment in flight. * * * * * The captain was on his feet instantly, but then his movements became unhurried. Whatever it had been was past, and he had a good idea what it had been--a meteoroid, nothing unusual in the vicinity of the Sun, though in interstellar space and around planetless stars such collisions were rare to the vanishing point. No harm could have been done. The _Quest III's_ collision armor was nonmaterial and for practical purposes invulnerable. Just as he took his finger off the button that opened the door, the intercommunication phone shrilled imperatively. Knof Llud wheeled, frowning--surely a meteoroid impact wasn't that serious. Coincidence, maybe--it might be Zost Relyul calling as instructed. He reached the phone at the moment when another, heavier jolt shook the vessel. Llud snatched up the receiver with the speed of a scalded cat. "Captain?" It was Gwar Den's voice, stammering a little. "Captain, we're being attacked!" "Sound the alarm. Emergency stations." He had said it automatically, then felt a curious detached relief at the knowledge that after all these years he could still respond quickly and smoothly to a crisis. There was a moment's silence, and he heard the alarm start--three short buzzes and repeat, ringing through all the great length of the interstellar ship. Knowing that Gwar Den was still there, he said, "Now--attacked by what?" "Ships," said Gwar Den helplessly. "Five of them so far. No, there's a sixth now." Repeated blows quivered the _Quest III's_ framework. The navigator said, obviously striving for calm, "They're light craft, not fifty feet long, but they move fast. The detectors hardly had time to show them before they opened up. Can't get a telescope beam on them long enough to tell much." "If they're that small," said Knof Llud deliberately, "they can't carry anything heavy enough to hurt us. Hold to course. I'll be right up." In the open doorway he almost fell over his son. Young Knof's eyes were big; he had heard his father's words. "Something's happened," he judged with deadly twelve-year-old seriousness and, without wasting time on questions, "Can I go with you, huh, Dad?" Llud hesitated, said, "All right. Come along and keep out of the way." He headed for the bridge with strides that the boy could not match.