Chapter VII

Once back in his apartment, Norman flung himself down in a chair. They had stopped on the way home in an establishment which sold the short tunics proscribed by law for all female slaves and Norman purchased the girl a complete outfit. She had chosen one of the smaller bedrooms and was putting her things away now. Koal was lounging on the couch.

"Koal," began Norman, "I've an idea and I'd like your opinion."

"Go ahead," replied the Martian with a chuckle. "You really want me to agree with you. But if it has to do with escaping, I warn you, I shall be disagreeable."

Norman grinned, said, "Koal, twentieth century Eire was under the British crown, but for a long time an underground army had fought the English Black and Tans. Around Nineteen-twenty they threw off the English yoke. That party of liberation was known as the Sinn Feiners."

Jennifer wandered back in the room in time to hear the last of Norman's words. She sat down, listened.

"So?" said Koal.

"So," said Norman. "I think that if a little group of patriots like the Sinn Feiners could throw off the yoke of the British Empire, we should be able to turn the tables on the Dohlmites."

"I've seen rebellions before," began Koal stonily.

"I know. But Koal, I'm not proposing any premature mutiny. I do believe, though, we should band together secretly. If any opportunity for escape presents itself, we'll be ready for it; not just a disunited group of clans snapping at each other's throats."

The Martian appeared to waver.

"Koal," Norman went on urgently. "Only one thing stands between us and freedom. The death broadcasting machine."

"Yes, just that--and a force wall impossible to penetrate."

"What maintains the force wall?" asked Norman.

The Martian shook his head.

"Suppose we succeed in neutralizing it. We'd have a picked body of men to rush the Dohlmite station, destroy the cylinders."

Koal scratched his head speculatively. He said, "The men would have to be carefully chosen. It would be suicide should any word of the society leak to the Dohlmites." He rose, frowned. "Wait a moment," he said and hurried from the apartment.

"Norman," breathed Jennifer. "Do you think there's any chance?"

"I don't know," he replied, a worried expression on his gaunt features; "but if I can persuade the men to unite there's hope." He ran his fingers through his crisp blond hair. "It's more than that, too. We'll be the only force standing between the Dohlmites and the Empire. Somehow we've got to destroy them before they destroy us."

The door opened, readmitting Koal attended by a tall, lean, yellow Venusian. The blue star of the killer cast was tattooed on his forehead. A Fozoql! Norman was only vaguely familiar with the caste of mercenaries and assassins. They had the reputation of being loyal and ferocious and were in high demand by the constantly warring factions on Venus.

"Norman," said Koal, "this is Acpsahme. He and his brother with their wives were migrating to Ganymede when they were captured. His brother was killed by the broadcast machine while trying to escape. His wife was sold in the slave market to a renegade Earthman. I think I can vouch for his silence. Explain what you just told me."

Norman shook hands, launched into a passionate appeal for union among the men. Acpsahme's green eyes glowed.

"Good," he said from time to time, "good. But there must not be too many, and those must be carefully chosen. The success of the enterprise depends on secrecy."

Koal leaped to his feet, his broad pale brow furrowed. He strode back and forth across the thick carpet. "At nineteen-hundred," he said, "I am going to give a party in my quarters. A small, select party. Only the men I know best will be invited. Gentlemen, we'll bring the Sinn Fein Society back to life."

When they had gone, Jennifer looked across at Norman mistily. "You know," she said in a tender voice, "you really are rather wonderful."

* * * * *

It was an oddly assorted group who attended Koal's party at nineteen-hundred. Of the thirteen men present, there were renegade Earthmen, outcasts of the Empire, mad dogs feared from Pluto to Mercury. Another had been a T.I.S. agent before his capture. Pepperell was the name which Koal gave when he introduced him to Norman. Pepperell was a bland-faced, heavy-set Earthman with a gullible smile and a chunk of ice for a heart. The fifth had been a corporation lawyer. His noble brow and prematurely gray hair give him the benignity of a saint, but a thief, it had been whispered about on Earth during his remarkable career, had better ethics and a hungry tiger couldn't be half so rapacious. There were three Martians, urbane, pleasant-spoken, and a Venusian. The Venusian, an ex-dictator of a small state, had been fleeing from his irate people with the treasury, when he was captured. Norman, Koal, and Acpsahme made up the thirteen. Jennifer was the only woman present.

The men were gathered in animated groups, drinking, laughing.

"Gentlemen," began Koal, "may I have your attention. What you hear tonight must be held in the strictest confidence. If any word of this meeting reaches the Dohlmites, our lives are forfeit."

Pepperell, the T.I.S. agent, raised his eyebrows, said, "What do you propose to do? Release cut worms among the plant men?"

Jennifer grinned. No one else laughed.

"Thanks," said Pepperell to the girl. "I see we both have the same low sense of humor."

"This is serious," said Koal. "Norman, will you explain your plan to these gentlemen."

For the third time Norman delivered his impassioned appeal for union. "I know," he concluded, "that we haven't any definite means of attack, but how much greater is our chance of discovering one if we work together."

"But the danger of betrayal," protested Pepperell. "The more recruits to this underground army we gain, the more chances we run of admitting a traitor. No silly oath will hold some man from running to the Dohlmites in hopes of currying favor."

"True," agreed Acpsahme grimly. "But a committee of execution should be formed. A committee whose sole duty will be to track down and kill any informer. Gentlemen, this is no seminar fraternity. If I thought any of you were proposing to betray us, I'd shoot you down without a qualm." The blue star tattooed on his forehead lent authority to his quiet words.

"What powers the Dohlmite's force wall?" inquired Norman suddenly.

The men turned back to him, their eyes serious, intent.

"I've speculated about that," admitted Pepperell. "But no human is allowed within to learn."

"If it ever failed, and we were organized, we could rush the Dohlmites, capture the broadcast machine and destroy the cylinders."

"You forget the paralysis ray," observed one of the Martians quietly.

"There's a shield against the ray," Norman countered. "I saw one. Vermeer had one on when our ship was captured."

"A green suit," smiled the Martian. "But they are issued only to agents of the Venusian Export Lines."

"We can steal them."

A hungry look had come into the men's eyes as they recalled the past when they had been free in the Universe. Pepperell smashed his fist down hard on the buffet.

"I'm with you."

"And I." It was unanimous.

Jennifer squeezed Norman's hand ecstatically.

"A toast," proposed Koal, "to freedom."

The men lifted their glasses, drank. Then, with one accord, they shattered them on the floor in a very ancient custom, a custom which hadn't been observed in centuries. Norman's heart swelled at the significance of the gesture.