“Patrol mobile coming in on southeast vector,” Ali announced calmly.  “Looks like she mounts a portable flamer on her nose—­”

“So.”  Dane changed direction, putting behind him a customs check point, aware as he ground by that stand, of a line of faces at its vision ports.  Evasive action—­and he’d have to get the top speed from the clumsy crawler.

“Police ’copter over us—­” that was Rip reporting.

Well, they couldn’t very well avoid that.  But at the same time Dane was reasonably sure that its attack would not be an overt one—­not with the unarmed, unprotected Hovan prominently displayed in their midst.

But there he was too sanguine.  A muffled exclamation from Rip made him glance at the Medic beside him.  Just in time to see Hovan slump limply forward, about to tumble from the crawler when Shannon caught him from behind.  Dane was too familiar with the results of sleep rays to have any doubts as to what had happened.

The P-copter had sprayed them with its most harmless weapon.  Only the suits, insulated to the best of their makers’ ability against most of the dangers of space, real and anticipated, had kept the three Traders from being overcome as well.  Dane suspected that his own responses were a trifle sluggish, that while he had not succumbed to that attack, he had been slowed.  But with Rip holding the unconscious Medic in his seat, Thorson continued to head the crawler for the tower and its promise of a system wide hearing for their appeal.

“There’s a P-mobile coming in ahead—­”

Dane was irritated by that warning from Rip.  He had already sighted that black and silver ground car himself.  And he was only too keenly conscious of the nasty threat of the snub nosed weapon mounted on its hood, now pointed straight at the oncoming, too deliberate Traders’ crawler.  Then he saw what he believed would be their only chance—­to play once more the same type of trick as Rip had used to earth them safely.

“Get Hovan under cover,” he ordered.  “I’m going to crash the tower door!”

Hasty movements answered that as the Medic’s limp body was thrust under the cover offered by the upper framework of the crawler.  Luckily the machine had been built for heavy duty on rugged worlds where roadways were unknown.  Dane was sure he could build up the power and speed necessary to take them into the lower floor of the tower—­no matter if its door was now barred against them.

Whether his audacity daunted the P-mobile, or whether they held off from an all out attack because of Hovan, Dane could not guess.  But he was glad for a few minutes of grace as he raced the protesting engine of the heavy machine to its last and greatest effort.  The treads of the crawler bit on the steps leading up to the impressive entrance of the tower.  There was a second or two before traction caught and then the driver’s heart snapped back into place as the machine tilted its nose up and headed straight for the portal.