"But, my gosh, I didn't send anybody, chief. And this is no joke. That wasn't Myrtle, that was Crystal James, old man James' daughter. They're about the oldest family on Venus. Police have been after her for months; she's a rebel and she's sure been raising plenty of hell around here. She got in and blew out the main communications control panel last night. Communications been tied up all day." Pete lowered his voice to an appreciative whisper, "Gosh, chief, I didn't know you had it in you. How long have you been in with that bunch? Is that girl as good-looking as they say she is?" "Now listen here, Brent. I don't know--" "Oh, it's all right, chief. You can trust me. I won't give you away." "There's nothing to give away, you fool!" Brian bellowed. "I don't know anything about any damn rebels. All I want is to get out of here--" "Gotcha, chief," Brent whispered understandingly. "I'll see if I can pass the word along." "Come here, you idiot!" Brian screamed after his erstwhile assistant. "Pipe down there, bud," a guard's voice cut in chillingly. Brian retired to his cell bunk and clutched his aching head in frustrated fury. For the nineteenth time Brian Hanson strode to the door of his cell and rattled the bars. "Listen here, guard, you've got to take a message to McHague. You can't hold me here indefinitely." "Shut up. Nobody ain't takin' no message to McHague. I don't care if you are--" Brian's eyes almost popped out as he saw a gloved hand reach around the guard's neck and jam a rag over his nose and mouth. Swift shadows moved expertly before his astonished gaze. Another guard was caught and silenced as he came around the end of the corridor. Someone was outside his cell door, a hooded figure which seemed, somehow, familiar. "Hello, pantless!" a voice breathed. He knew that voice! "What the devil are you doing here?" "Somebody by the name of Pete Brent tipped us off that you were in trouble because of me. But don't worry, we're going to get you out." "Damn that fool kid! Leave me alone. I don't want to get out of here that way!" he yelled wildly. "Guards! Help!" "Shut up! Do you want to get us shot?" "Sure I do. Guards! Guards!" Someone came running. "Guards are coming," a voice warned. He could hear the girl struggling with the lock. "Damn," she swore viciously. "This is the wrong key! Your goose is sure cooked now. Whether you like it or not, you'll hang with us when they find us trying to get you out of here." Brian felt as though something had kicked him in the stomach. She was right! He had to get out now. He wouldn't be able to explain this away. "Give me that key," he hissed and grabbed for it. He snapped two of the coigns off in the lock and went to work with the rest of the key. He had designed these escape-proof locks himself. In a few seconds the door swung open and they were fleeing silently down the jail corridor. The girl paused doubtfully at a crossing passage.