Guerlan hesitated, exasperation written in his face. To disdain a powerful cruiser for this slow-going, vulnerable craft was beyond his comprehension. But Perlac without slackening her stride made a peremptory motion with her slender hand and shouted: "Follow me! I've been right thus far; trust me, you fool!" Behind them, through the breach in the wall a phalanx of robot-proctors was emerging, and wisps of green gas were beginning to reach the Aero-dome. In giant strides Guerlan covered the distance to Perlac's plane and entered its cabin. The die was cast, after all he owed her his life in a way. But for her he would be in Psychiatry III right now. * * * * * He had scarcely strapped himself, when the ordinary-looking craft shot forward in a dazzling burst of acceleration that pressed Guerlan back against the mullioned seat with almost paralyzing force. But even then his trained faculties noted the sheath of columbium with which the plane was completely lined, and his ears detected the unmistakable hum of powerful atomic engines. One glance at the complex instrument panel told him that here was a craft that was far more than it seemed to be. But he'd scarcely time to begin to think order out of chaos, when a growing nausea born of the steadily increasing acceleration cleaved his tongue to his palate, and his lower jaw slowly twisted to one side. Perlac, an immobile figurine of alabaster, eyes closed, seemed crushed against her seat. On and on the plane sped slanting upwards as if determined to crash the transparent barrier that separated them from the next level. And then as suddenly as it began, their terrific speed slackened and the plane levelled off. The intense agony Guerlan had momentarily felt dwindled and disappeared. He saw the girl manipulate what was evidently a robot control, setting it for a new direction and rate of speed, then lock it in place. "Look downwards, Guerlan, there to our right," Perlac whispered. An umbrella of atomo-planes in all the sleek glory of deadly interceptors, spread below them in battle formation; behind them the immense plastic pylons that supported the next tier, and the crenelated superstructure of Level II, combined with distance to dwarf them into toy-like dimensions. The semi-transparent roof of Level II was dangerously near, Guerlan saw, and the forest of pylons dead ahead that marked the center of their level was another fatal hazard. But Perlac manipulated the intricate controls with casual ease, leaving the rate of speed and general direction to the robot-control, she merely made minute adjustments. "We outdistanced them!" Guerlan was awed. That anything in the possession of even an Inner Circle scientist could outdistance the Pursuit Fleet of the Protector in Chief was unimaginable.