"I hope so too," said Urushkidan. Dyann stood over her prisoner. "Vere is Ray Ballantyne?" she asked. "The Earthman who vas arrested off the liner a few days ago." "I don't know," he gasped. Dyann drew her knife, smiling nastily. "Camp Muellenhoff, you savage! Outside the city, to the north. You'll never make it. You'll kill us all." The cradle rumbled forward to the hangar airlock. Urushkidan took the pilot chair and strapped himself in and relit his pipe with nervous boneless fingers. Dyann whistled tunelessly between her teeth. It was dark in the airlock chamber as the pumps evacuated it. "Why bother wit tis Ballantyne?" asked the Martian. "What claim has he on us? It will need all our luck and my genius for us to escape with our own lives." "We need his luck too, maybe," said Dyann shortly. * * * * * The outer valve swung open and they trundled over the rails to the surface of Ganymede. Behind them, the dome covering the city rose against a background of saw-toothed mountains and dark, faintly star-lit sky. A dwarfed sun lit the spaceport field with pale cold luminance. There were not many vessels in sight, no liner or freighter was in and the military ports were elsewhere. One lean black patrol ship stood not far off. "They vill be out after us soon," said Dyann. "Vat can you do about that boat there, huh?" "We will see," said Urushkidan. He touched studs, levers, and buttons. The engines thuttered and the little vessel shook. "Let's go!" The rocket stood on her tail and climbed for the sky. Urushkidan brought her around, the gyros screaming at his clumsy management, and lowered her on her jets directly above the patrol ship. An atom-driven ion-blast is not good for a patrol ship. "Now," said Dyann as they took off again, "you, my policeman friend, vill call this Camp Muellenhoff and tell them to release Ballantyne to us. If you do that, ve vill set you down somevere. If not--vell--" She tested the edge of her knife on his ear. "You may still be a police, but you vill not be very alive." "You can't escape," said the Jovian with a certain hollow lack of conviction. "You'd better throw yourself on the Leader's mercy." Dyann knocked a few teeth loose. "You savage!" he gasped. "You cruel, murdering--" "I tought you Jobians were always talking about te glories of war and te rutless superman," snickered Urushkidan. "Also destiny and tings. Better call te camp as she says." A few minutes later the ship lowered into the walled enclosure of Camp Muellenhoff. It was a dreary place, metal barracks lying harsh under the guns of the watchtowers, spacesuited prisoners clumping to work through the thin chill air of Ganymede. A detail hurried up and shoved an unarmed, suited form into the airlock.