Nolan turned to see the masquerader unzipping the folds of his heat suit with one hand while he guided the careening skid with the other. He brought out a tiny black box, opened it to show a key and a lever. He thumbed the lever open, braced the box between his knees, began tapping the key rhythmically. A curious shrill staccato came from the box. _Dee dideedeedit didideedit deedeedit deedeedee didee didididit_-- After a second he stopped, waited. Then faintly an answer came back from the box. _Deedeedee dideedidit_-- And silence. Satisfied, the man closed the box, slowed the skid to a point where its guidance no longer required complete attention. They had reached the ring of ice hummocks that surrounded Woller's dome. The skid bounded over the first rise, zoomed through that trough and the next; then the man kicked the rudder jets. It spun along the trough to where the hummocks were highest; then he cut the jets. He turned to Nolan, threw back his helmet. "My God," gasped Nolan. "Pete!" * * * * * Petersen grinned. "You called it, boy," he admitted. "Don't I get around though?" Nolan closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the back of his chair. "The story," he said. "Quick." Petersen shrugged. "How can I tell it quick? It's long.... Maybe if I tell you one thing you can fill in the details." "What's the one thing?" "I work for TPL." TPL--Tri-planet Law! That explained-- Nolan exhaled slowly. "I begin to see," he said. "I always did think you knew too much for a guy that made his living at cards." Petersen laughed. "My biggest trouble," he said wryly. "I can't win at cards. Whatever I do. It's been quite a drawback to my career. You can see how people would get suspicious of a professional gambler who always loses. I had to keep on the move." Nolan's brain was beginning to work again. "But listen," he said. "How come you didn't turn me in when you picked me up--right after I escaped? If you worked for the Law--" Petersen's face grew serious. "Boy," he said, "you gave us a lot of trouble. You and your escapes. We weren't planning to keep you in jail, Steve. Any fool could see you were being framed--fixed court, semi-pro witnesses. But TPL couldn't step in, out in the open. We didn't know enough for a showdown. So you were going to be summoned to Mars for further questioning. When we found out all you knew you were to be taken care of some way or other. Given a new identity, kept undercover until we were ready to move." "And I jumped the gun." Petersen nodded. "I was in the neighborhood, heading for Earth. The TPL man on the ship called Earth Base; they called me. The ship had you spotted, but they decided not to pick you up. Base figured that if you thought you were being hunted you'd keep yourself under cover and we wouldn't have to bother. And if I picked you up I could pump you myself." Nolan grinned. "How did you do?"