Could mankind hope to survive a galactic
war that left boys aged cripples in a few short
years? Who would replace them when there were—
NO SONS LEFT TO DIE!
By Hal Annas
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
September 1953
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Susan Wildress knew that what she was about to do might mean death.
She stopped eating and stared at the ration of ground cedar bark, rabbit, and a hydroponic which tasted like eggplant. She pushed back her plate and glanced around at the tense girl faces in the huge dining hall. She lifted a small strong hand and ran it inside her sweater. She brought out a locket, snapped it open.
The flesh grew tight around her dark brown eyes and in her olive cheeks. The memory was still as clear as the day it happened. Three years. She was just fourteen, sitting in the groundcar and watching the preparations which were always dramatic.
Darth Brady had lied about his age. He was supposed to be nineteen but was just past seventeen. She had known and so had everyone else, but the Centers needed boys, needed them desperately.