Night had fallen and the city of Comain glittered with ten thousand coloured lights, the great bulk of the central building scintillating with illuminated landing stages, terraces, speckled with lighted windows and glowing with floodlit radiance. Cars droned softly along the wide roads and people, careless, casual people, sauntered between high buildings as they walked towards their evening recreation.
Curt felt his pulses leap with excitement as he moved among them.
He wore a utilitarian suit of dull grey, a combination of slacks and high collared blouse, soft and comfortable against his skin. Money rested in his pocket, the proceeds of the sale of all the Martian’s personal possessions, and on his left wrist his skin tingled to the freshly applied chemical of an indelible number. Lasse
