He swung himself out of the shaft, raced across the lobby, which was already beginning to fill with people intent on escape. He was out the door with the van of them, racing across a still empty street toward South Lock. A slim, pale figure darted across in front of him. He moved to dodge past, then slowed momentarily as he saw who it was. "Steve!" Only one man knew that name--Petersen! "Pete! What are you waiting for? Come on--get a suit!" Petersen sighed, touched Nolan's shoulder to halt him. "There's no hurry, pal," he said mildly. "No hurry! The dome alarm--" Petersen shook his head. "Forget it," he said. "I turned the alarm in myself." * * * * * Toward what passed for morning in Avalon, the confusion died down. The emergency cars were off the streets, the sirens had long since stopped wailing and the last irate citizen had retired for what remained of a night's sleep. Petersen came back from the window of his shabby little one-room apartment and reported on progress to Nolan. "All quiet," he said. "Sure you won't change your mind and lie down for a while? You'll be needing sleep pretty soon." Nolan swallowed the rest of his coffee, stubbed out a cigarette and shook his head. "No time," he said. He glanced at his chrono. "I figure on leaving in twenty minutes. You're sure Woller's going to be on that ship?" Petersen grinned. "Pretty sure," he said. "I have my ways." "You looked good on the deal last night," Nolan said. "You and your hammy ideas. I would have got out without all that." Petersen was serious. "Not alive, no. When I saw those apes coming down the street I was pretty sure something was up. So I got on a phone--I got a friend works for Woller's company, and he reads the boss' mail--and that's what he told me. Woller has to get back to the Inner Planets in a hurry. He's sent a bunch of his company guards to pick up some stuff at his apartment. The only thing I could think of was to turn in the alarm and hope you'd get out in the confusion. You're a smart boy, but you ain't Dead-eye Dick, friend. You couldn't of fought it out with five of Woller's finest." Nolan inclined his head. "Maybe you're right. You say something big seems to be up?" "What else? He gets a red-hot sealed teleflash from Aylette. Sealed, mind you--my friend can't listen in. He cancels the orders of the only ship his new company has in Avalon--cancels all the cargo contracts--and takes off in it in the middle of the night for Aylette. He'll be back here this morning, they say, to pick up those papers. Then they're off again, deep space, this time. The clearance says Mars." Nolan nodded. His face was impassive, but a slight crinkling of the lines around his lean nose showed thought. What was Woller up to? It was curiously difficult to concentrate on Woller. Absently, he found himself saying. "And you don't know who the girl was?"