Dyann took one long leap across the office, seized Roshevsky-Feldkamp by the neck and hammered his forehead against the desk. Her free hand covered the secret policeman. "Vere is Ray Ballantyne?" she repeated. "I am glad you came," said Urushkidan. "Shall we leabe tis uncibilised place?" Two armed soldiers appeared in the doorway. Dyann brought her gun around. The silenced weapon hissed. One of the men tumbled with a hole drilled in his forehead. She was rather proud of herself, she'd never had much chance for target practice. There wasn't much time for self-praise, though. The other man already had his rifle up. Dyann dropped behind the desk, and the stream of slugs ripped through the wood after her. She bunched her muscles and threw the desk. There was a crash of splintering wood as it knocked down the Jovian. The secret police officer had his gun out and trained on her. Urushkidan snaked forth a tentacle and pulled him off his feet. Dyann stopped to slug Roshevsky-Feldkamp before she got her hands about the policeman's throat. "Vere is Ray Ballantyne?" she growled. "Come on, come on, we habe to get out of here!" wailed the Martian. "Vich is the vay out?" "I'll show you--come along, quick--tis way." Dyann frogmarched the Jovian cop toward a rear door. Booted feet were thudding up the stairs toward the office. Urushkidan held a pistol in each hand, gingerly as if he feared they would blow up. He led the way into a hall and down a long, echoing ramp. "Hurry, hurry," he gasped. "Shalmuannusar, we habe te whole Jobian Confederacy after us!" A voice bellowed atop the ramp and a slug whanged after them. Dyann whirled and fired back, using the helplessly pinioned captive as a shield. They retreated slowly, rounding a corner and going on down a long slope to a heavy steel door. Urushkidan opened it, slamming it frantically as they went through. They were in a hangar where several small spaceships rested on their rail-mouthed cradles. Mechanics stared at the trio. "Quick!" snapped the Martian. "Te laboratory ships!" The prisoner opened his mouth. Dyann laid a friendly hand on the back of his neck and squeezed a little. "Yes, yes, the laboratory ship--practice maneuvers--hurry!" the man said. "Aye, sir! At once!" A life time's training in blind obedience spoke there, behind the puzzled faces. A teardrop-shaped rocket was trundled forth. Dyann looked nervously back at the door. Pursuit was most likely playing it safe, posting men outside while others went around to block all remaining exits. Once that was done they'd close in. "I'll warm up the engine for you, sir," said one of the mechanics. "Ve'll take it now," said Dyann. "But you can't! You'll carbon the tubes--be likely to crash--" "I said now." Dyann propelled her captive ahead of her through the airlock and Urushkidan crawled after. The valves clanged shut after them. "I hope you can fly vun of these thins," said Dyann, lashing the secret policeman to a recoil chair.