Eran Mak sounded Martian, but the man pictured on the screen was no Martian. He was an Earthman, with a face like a wedge of granite and a frame that was all gaunt bones and thrusting angles. His hair was thin, pale-red and fuzzy. His mouth was thin. Even his eyes were thin, close slits of pale blue with no lashes. Campbell disliked him instantly. "I'm Tredrick," said the Earthman. His voice was thin, with a sound in it like someone walking on cold gravel. "Terran Overchief. Why do you wish to land, Mister Black?" "I bring a message from the Kraylen people of Venus. They need help." Tredrick's eyes became, if possible, thinner and more pale. "_Help?_" "Yes. Help." Campbell was struck by a sudden suspicion, something he caught flickering across Tredrick's granite features when he said "Kraylen." He went on, slowly, "The Coalition is moving in on them. I understand you people of Romany help in cases like that." There was a small, tight silence. "I'm sorry," said Tredrick. "There is nothing we can do." Campbell's dark face tightened. "Why not? You helped the Shenyat people on Ganymede and the Drylanders on Mars. That's what Romany is, isn't it--a refuge for people like that?" "As a _latnik_, there's a lot you don't know. At this time, we cannot help anyone. Sorry, Black. Please clear ship." The screen went dead. Campbell stared at it with sultry eyes. Sorry. The hell you're sorry. What gives here, anyway? He thrust out an angry hand to the transmitter. And then, quite suddenly, the Taxil was looking at him out of the screen. The hostile look was gone. Anger replaced it, but not anger at Campbell. The Taxil said, in a low, rapid voice: "You're not lying about coming from the Kraylens?" "No. No, I'm not lying." He opened his shirt to show the tattoo. "The dirty scut! Mister Black, clear ship, and then make contact with one of the outer hulks on the lowest tier. You'll find emergency hatchways in some of the pipes. Come inside, and wait." His dark eyes had a savage glitter. "There are some of us, Mister Black, who still consider Romany a refuge!" * * * * * Campbell cleared ship. His nerves were singing in little tight jerks. He'd stepped into something here. Something big and ugly. There had been a certain ring in the Taxil's voice. The thin, gravelly Mr. Tredrick had something on his mind, too. Something important, about Kraylens. Why Kraylens, of all the unimportant people on Venus? Trouble on Romany. Romany the gypsy world, the Solar System's stepchild. Strictly a family affair. What business did a Public Enemy with a low number and a high valuation have mixing into that? Then he thought of the drum beating in the indigo night, and an old man watching _liha_-trees stir in a slow, hot wind.