There was a jostling for places and then they were in the rapidly moving line. Grundy, fat and important-looking, was handing out little blue slips with numbers on them, pausing every now and then to tell them some entertaining bit of information about the women. He had a great imagination, nothing else. Karl drew the number 53 and hurried to the grassy lot beside the landing field that had been decorated with bunting and huge welcome signs for the new arrivals. A table was loaded with government pamphlets meant to be helpful to newly married colonists. Karl went over and stuffed a few in his pockets. Other tables had been set out and were loaded with luncheon food, fixed by the few colonial women in the community. Karl caught himself eyeing the women closely, wondering how the girls from Earth would compare with them. He fingered the ticket in his pocket. What would the woman be like who had drawn the companion number 53 aboard the rocket? For when it landed, they would pair up by numbers. The method had its drawbacks, of course, but time was much too short to allow even a few days of getting acquainted. He'd have to get back to his trapping lines and he imagined that Hill would have to get back to his sawmill and the others to their farms. What the hell, you never knew what you were getting either way, till it was too late. "Sandwich, mister? Pop?" Karl flipped the boy a coin, picked up some food and a drink, and wandered over to the landing field with Hill. There were still ten minutes or so to go before the rocket landed, but he caught himself straining his sight at the blue sky, trying to see a telltale flicker of exhaust flame. The field was crowded and he caught some of the buzzing conversation. "... never knew one myself, but let me tell you...." "... knew a fellow once who married one, never had a moment's rest afterward...." "... no comparison with colonial women. They got culture...." "... I'd give a lot to know the girl who's got number twenty-five...." "Let's meet back here with the girls who have picked our numbers," Hill said. "Maybe we could trade." Karl nodded, though privately he felt that the number system was just as good as depending on first impressions. There was a murmur from the crowd and he found his gaze riveted overhead. High above, in the misty blue sky, was a sudden twinkle of fire. He reached up and wiped his sweaty face with a muddy hand and brushed aside a straggly lock of tangled hair. It wouldn't hurt to try to look his best. The twinkling fire came nearer. II "A Mr. Macdonald to see you, Mr. Escher." Claude Escher flipped the intercom switch. "Please send him right in." That was entirely superfluous, he thought, because MacDonald would come in whether Escher wanted him to or not. The door opened and shut with a slightly harder bang than usual and Escher mentally braced himself. He had a good hunch what the problem was going to be and why it was being thrown in their laps.