 What lesson did Brian learn from his experience?
Brian Hanson looked disgustedly at Pete Brent, his lanky assistant. Brian Hanson wondered dispassionately for a moment how his assistants could fail to be as absorbed as he was by the work they were doing, then he let it go as he stepped outside the research building. True, there had been others, pioneers, before the company came, who objected to the expansion of the monopolistic control. But, if they could not realize that the company's regime served the best interests of the planet, they would just have to suffer the consequences of their own ignorance. This walk was part of a regular routine of physical exercise that kept his body hard and resilient in spite of long hours spent in the laboratory. He was making that walk in precisely seven minutes, four and four-fifths seconds. Pete Brent's joking words flashed back to him. Brian slowly acquired a complexion suitable for painting fire plugs. He struggled out of the bath, wrapped his damp bathrobe clammily around him and marched to the door with a seething fury of righteous anger burning within him. "Wherethehell's who?" "Quit stallin', bud. All I want is to get out of here—" "Gotcha, chief," Brent whispered understandingly. For the nineteenth time Brian Hanson strode to the door of his cell and rattled the bars. I don't care if you are—" Brian's eyes almost popped out as he saw a gloved hand reach around the guard's neck and jam a rag over his nose and mouth.
 That the Venus Consolidated police weren’t honest.
 That Serono Zeburzac was a rebel insider.  That Venus Consolidated served the best interests of the planet.  That the Venus Consolidated police weren’t honest.  That the rebels built mines as escape routes from the police.