"I'm sorry, you're too late." This was the sixth Academy administrator they had talked to. Most of them were sympathetic but had nothing to offer except apologies; which were of little use to the frantic parents.

"How could they just take him without our permission?" This was a question they kept asking but to no avail. They were assuming that they still had rights to their own child. But once he was identified as valuable, he was considered too precious an asset to be left in the hands of parents; even if those parents were Alpha grades. The Federation did not recognize any rights except its own.

Several of the administrators had had the gall to tell them that their child was privileged to be chosen, that he was special and they should be proud as his parents. But pride was no substitute for a child's smile.

The parents stood outside the Academy grounds, the husband's arms around his wife, comforting her. They had run out of useless functionaries to demand answers of.

"What are we going to do?" the wife asked with despair.

"We won't give up. We'll keep looking. We'll hound them until they give him back to us," said the husband. He bit back a grimace as there was a twinge of pain from his back; it always bothered him when he was under great stress. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were never going to see their son again.

"My bright, sweet Kerr." He was her greatest joy. His quick intelligence, his sharp insights, his wry sense of humour, had always surprised and delighted her. But these were not what made her most proud; it was his natural tendency to protect others and his unvarnished honesty which she cherished the most and which ironically were also her greatest sources of worry. These were the traits which often got him into the most trouble.

"Don't worry, mother. I can take care of myself." Those had been his last words to her before he left; he was six years old. He didn't know yet what a cruel world they lived in.

"What are they going to do with him?" the wife asked.

"I don't know." The husband faced away and looked out into the distance. He had lied. He didn't want to worry her, but he was afraid that he knew. Of the two of them, he was the most cynical about the society they lived in. The Federation had no use for gentleness, warmth or compassion. He knew that his son would be able to adapt no matter where he found himself. But adapt into what? He doubted if there would be much left of the warm, trusting child they knew if the Federation was allowed to do what they wanted with him. They only valued his mind, not the things which made him human. "We have to find him. Before it's too late."