The secret police officer had his gun out and trained on her. Urushkidan snaked forth a tentacle and pulled him off his feet. Dyann stopped to slug Roshevsky-Feldkamp before she got her hands about the policeman's throat.
"Vere is Ray Ballantyne?" she growled.
"Come on, come on, we habe to get out of here!" wailed the Martian.
"Vich is the vay out?"
"I'll show you—come along, quick—tis way."
Dyann frogmarched the Jovian cop toward a rear door. Booted feet were thudding up the stairs toward the office. Urushkidan held a pistol in each hand, gingerly as if he feared they would blow up. He led the way into a hall and down a long, echoing ramp.
"Hurry, hurry," he gasped. "Shalmuannusar, we habe te whole Jobian Confederacy after us!"
A voice bellowed atop the ramp and a slug whanged after them. Dyann whirled and fired back, using the helplessly pinioned captive as a shield. They retreated slowly, rounding a corner and going on down a long slope to a heavy steel door.
Urushkidan opened it, slamming it frantically as they went through. They were in a hangar where several small spaceships rested on their rail-mouthed cradles. Mechanics stared at the trio.
"Quick!" snapped the Martian. "Te laboratory ships!"