She was carried into a long house, and once again she was laid on a floor in darkness. She could not see anyone else but she could feel the presence of bodies, row on row of other bodies. Back in the truck she had tried to cry, but it hadn't worked. She tried again now. After a while she felt the paralysis beginning to wear off. * * * * * Web was now very tired and he sat down. He had gone through the whole station and there was nobody aboard. Forty-seven men, all gone. Dundon had said nothing had approached this station, or left it, but the forty-seven men had, and that was for sure. And he knew that if he bothered to check the other rocket, the lonesome rocket that had come up first, there would be nobody in it either. "Web." "Yep?" "Did you check the space suits?" "Yep," Web said wearily. "And I counted 'em. They're all here. All in the lockers, never been touched." "How about the escape pod?" "That's here too. But they couldn't have got away in that anyway. Radar would have seen it." Dundon was silent. In the background Web could hear an argument going on. Some of the really high brass were with Dundon now, listening in. Well, Web said to himself gravely, but with a trace of cheer breaking through, the rest is their problem. I've done my job. I think right now I had better go home. He called to Falk, to let him know that he was coming, and began to retrace his steps, reeling in his radio wire. Falk didn't acknowledge his call, so he called again. "Joe," he said happily, "I'm a-comin'. Let's clear out o' here." Falk didn't answer. "Joe?" Web said. Nothing. "Joe?" He stopped dead in his tracks. "Dundon," he said thickly. There was nothing from Dundon either. He was completely alone. * * * * * In the face of emptiness, surrounded by nothing, as alone as any man will ever be, Web waited. He heard nothing, saw nothing. Within his suit the thumping of his heart was an endless chain of bombs. He decided that he had to get out. He was all the way up the turret before his mind cleared and the unrushing wave of claustrophobia fell away, and he realized what had happened. Falk hadn't answered. But then, neither had Dundon. "Well hell," he said aloud, sweating, "so the radio got disconnected." The whole thing had gone blank. Now, if it was just Falk who hadn't answered.... Weakly, he leaned against the airlock, breathing with huge gulps. A plug was out in the rocket, or down at the base, or a tube was blown, and for this reason he had very nearly made a fool of himself. For all he knew they could hear him. He began to talk anyway, questioning, liking the sound of his voice in the really absolute silence.