There was a fast-looking black speeder at the corner. She motioned him in and no sooner had the door closed than the speeder leaped forward and melted into the traffic. The girl relaxed in the seat beside him, the sudden easing of the tension making her hands shake. "Who are you?" Pell asked, repeating his earlier question. She looked at him keenly in the dim light that splashed through the windows of the speeder. "Perhaps, Mr. Pell," she replied at length, "it would not be too wise to reveal identities yet. I have a certain proposition to discuss and I think it might be better to talk first about that." Pell shrugged and said, "As long as you choose to remain my unknown benefactor, how about benefiting me with a drink?" The voice of the driver replied unexpectedly from the front seat. "Here." Pell accepted a gleaming flask and took a long drink. "Ahh," he said at length. "Do you have much ulcer trouble on Centaura?" The girl looked at him, startled. "You are very shrewd, Pell. I hope you won't become too clever for your own good." Out of the corner of his eye Pell saw her hand creep for the pocket of her jumper and it occurred to him that silence would possibly be wiser at that. * * * * * The voice of the driver broke in from the front seat. "Miss Helmuth, the DIC patrols are thick around here--we had better head out of town." The girl looked through the plastine rear window and the dim glow of the street lamps etched lines of strain about her mouth. "You're right, Heintz. Slip out of the traffic and head for the space port." Heintz grunted affirmatively and presently the black speeder emerged from the traffic and roared out of the city, leaving behind the red and black DIC patrols aimlessly searching the city for Pell and the unknown killer of the DIC agent. The girl turned to him once more and began to speak--rather cautiously, it seemed to Pell. "We have been looking for you for a long time, Pell," she said. "It was only by the purest accident that we found you in time to save your life tonight. "Formerly you were a space pilot--in fact you owned a business. But you were crushed by the Drake Interstellar Corporation, even to the extent of losing your license. And now the DIC, taking no chances with you, is determined to kill you. Because you are a hunted enemy of the DIC _and_ a space pilot, we felt that you might be interested in our proposition." "And what is that?" Pell asked. "If you are to remain alive," she replied, "you must leave Earth. But you have no ship. I have the ship and also want to leave Earth, but cannot without a pilot." "Then why don't you simply hire a licensed pilot and be done with it?" Pell asked, his eyes narrowed. "No licensed pilot would accept the job." "Then how do you know I will?" "Have you followed in the daily papers the account of the Junta on Centauri V?" she countered.