WOLFBANE By FREDERIK POHL and C. M. KORNBLUTH Illustrated by WOOD [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction October and November 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Appallingly, the Earth and the Moon had been kidnapped from the Solar System--but who were the kidnappers and what ransom did they want? I Roget Germyn, banker, of Wheeling, West Virginia, a Citizen, woke gently from a Citizen's dreamless sleep. It was the third-hour-rising time, the time proper to a day of exceptional opportunity to appreciate. Citizen Germyn dressed himself in the clothes proper for the appreciation of great works--such as viewing the Empire State ruins against storm clouds from a small boat, or walking in silent single file across the remaining course of the Golden Gate Bridge. Or as today--one hoped--witnessing the Re-creation of the Sun. Germyn with difficulty retained a Citizen's necessary calm. One was tempted to meditate on improper things: Would the Sun be re-created? What if it were not? He put his mind to his dress. First of all, he put on an old and storied bracelet, a veritable identity bracelet of heavy silver links and a plate which was inscribed: PFC JOE HARTMANN _Korea_ 1953 His fellow jewelry-appreciators would have envied him that bracelet--if they had been capable of such an emotion as envy. No other ID bracelet as much as two hundred and fifty years old was known to exist in Wheeling. His finest shirt and pair of light pants went next to his skin, and over them he wore a loose parka whose seams had been carefully weakened. When the Sun was re-created, every five years or so, it was the custom to remove the parka gravely and rend it with the prescribed graceful gestures ... but not so drastically that it could not be stitched together again. Hence the weakened seams. This was, he counted, the forty-first day on which he and all of Wheeling had donned the appropriate Sun Re-creation clothing. It was the forty-first day on which the Sun--no longer white, no longer blazing yellow, no longer even bright red--had risen and displayed a color that was darker maroon and always darker. * * * * * It had, thought Citizen Germyn, never grown so dark and so cold in all of his life. Perhaps it was an occasion for special viewing. For surely it would never come again, this opportunity to see the old Sun so near to death.... One hoped.