The Martian pointed to a silver insignia, a small rocket ship of ancient design pinned to the right breast of Norman's blouse. "That," he informed the young man, "is the insignia of your clan. It is important. Never take it off. All the men aboard the Rocket belong to that clan."
"Why?" asked Norman, puzzled.
The Martian sighed. "There is no law in Behrl, so long as we don't interfere with the administration of the city. In the Human Colony anarchy reigns supreme. For our own protection, we've banded together."
The Martian rose from the bunk, went to the door. "I'll leave you to get settled now. We eat at fourteen-hundred." He opened the door, paused, turned back. "One thing more. Forget about escaping. Dismiss it from your mind. Most of us joined with the same intention that you have. But it's impossible. There was a Martian, a very good friend of mine, who tried it. He stole a space tender. He got all the way to Mars before he was missed. In sight of the quarters of the imperial guard he dropped dead." He paused, said, "I'll see you at fourteen-hundred," pulled the door shut after him.
Norman Saint Clair sank down on his bunk. Somewhere, there must be a weak link in the Dohlmites armor. He wished he had specialized in botany instead of ancient history. Botany, he thought wildly, horticulture, perhaps there lay the clue.
V
During the ensuing days Norman Saint Clair became acquainted with the other members of Koal's squad. There were nine. Two were Martians, one a Venusian, the rest Earthmen. All of them had been captured by the Dohlmites and had chosen piracy to slavery.
While yet a day from Neptune, everyone began feverishly to pack their gear in anticipation of the landing. Word was circulated when they were passing through the crust. Norman and Koal hurried to the corridor before the port, found it jammed with men. The huge ship settled with a slight jar. They had landed.
"Home," said Koal.