Donovan looked quizzically at the open countenance across the table. "Sam," he asked, "why do you people keep turning to the Family? We led you, and it was to defeat. Why do you want anything more to do with nobles? We're not even that, any longer. We've been stripped of our titles. We're just plain citizens of the Empire now like you, and the new rulers are Terran. Why do you still think of us as your leaders?" "But you are, sir! You've always been. It wasn't the king's fault, or his men's, that Terra had so much more'n we did. We gave 'em a fight they won't forget in a hurry!" "You were in my squadron, weren't you?" "Yes, sir. CPO on the _Ansa Lancer_. I was with you at the Battle of Luga." The deep-set eyes glowed. "We hit 'em there, didn't we, sir?" "So we did." Donovan couldn't suppress the sudden fierce memory. Outnumbered, outgunned, half its ships shot to pieces and half the crews down with Sirius fever, the Royal Lansteaders had still made naval history and sent the Imperial Fleet kiyoodling back to Sol. Naval historians would be scratching their heads over that battle for the next five centuries. Before God, they'd fought! * * * * * He began to sing the old war-song, softly at first, louder as Sam joined him-- Comrades, hear the battle tiding, hear the ships that rise and yell faring outward, starward riding-- Kick the Terrans back to hell! The others were listening, men raised weary heads, an old light burned in their eyes and tankards clashed together. They stood up to roar out the chorus till the walls shook. Lift your glasses high, kiss the girls good-bye, for we're riding, for we're riding, for we're riding out to Terran sky! Terran sky! Terran sky! We have shaken loose our thunder where the planets have their way, and the starry deeps of wonder saw the Impies in dismay. Lift your glasses high, kiss the girls good-bye-- The workmen in the street heard it and stopped where they were. Some began to sing. The Imperial superintendent yelled, and an Ansan turned to flash him a wolfish grin. A squad of blue-uniformed Solarian marines coming toward the inn went on the double. Oh, the Emp'ror sent his battle ships against us in a mass, but we shook them like a rattle and we crammed them-- "Hi, there! Stop that!" The song died, slowly and stubbornly, the men stood where they were and hands clenched into hard-knuckled fists. Someone shouted an obscenity. The Terran sergeant was very young, and he felt unsure before those steady, hating eyes. He lifted his voice all the louder: "That will be enough of that. Any more and I'll run you all in for _lèse majesté_. Haven't you drunken bums anything better to do than sit around swilling beer?" A big Ansan smith laughed with calculated raucousness.