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"It's not the first time," I said, "and it won't be the last. Cops just have to do cop things every once in a while. It's traditional. They hate not being able to make an arrest on the road."

The com speaker went splup!

"Jacob Paul McGraw?" The voice was female.

I put on a headset. "Yes?"

"Hi, Jake? How're things?"

"Oh, God, not Mona," Sam groaned.

"Just fine," I answered. "How's things with you?"

"Great," Constable Mona Barrows told me in her cheery bird-song voice. "Jake. I'm afraid I have bad news for you."

Mona, you made my whole day by showing me your pretty back end. Nothing can throw me now. I meant the cruiser, of course."

"Jake, you're all talk, always were. Still, I think this'll smother your fusion-fire. There's a warrant for your arrest back on Hothouse."

Notice how she put that. She didn't have the warrant, nor was she arresting me. She couldn't ― at least not here, on the Skyway.

"Really? What's the charge? Have they finally called in all my back citations?" But somehow I knew.

"A bad one this time, Jake. Homicide with a Powered Vehicle."

Of course.

"There are other charges. Leaving the Scene of an Accident, Assault with a Deadly Weapon, and a bunch of minor ones."

"Gee whiz, let's hear 'em all."

"Oh, Illegal Off-Road Driving, Failure to.. Jake, do we really have to do this?"

The cab was quiet. I, for one, could see no way out. I sat there and tried to predict what Mona would do if we tried to make a run for it. It wasn't difficult, since they rarely came tougher than Mona. "Am I to understand that this is an arrest, Constable?"

"Why, whatever gave you that idea? I am, however, officially notifying you that charges have been brought against you within my jurisdiction. My suggestion is that you turn yourself in."

The word "suggestion" was heavily stressed. "Then, why have you pulled us over, may I ask?"

"Oh, Jake, don't go Skyway-lawyer on me. I can't drive and talk at the same time. Besides, you were coming up on the turnoff to Eta Cassiopeiae and I didn't want to drag you all the way back. I've got things to do, and I'm in a hurry. Now, you know you'll have to turn yourself in sometime, Jake. Why not do it now and save us all a lot of bother? Okay?"

"Love to oblige, Mona, but I'd hate myself in the morning."

"Now, Jake," she warned, "don't get any funny ideas. If I have to, I'll follow you until you have to come out of that rig to take a pee."

"I keep an empty fifth of Old Singularity behind the seat for that purpose, dear. I usually offer a snort to officers who're kind enough to pull me over to chat."

"Don't get cute. You know what I mean. You'll be pulling over for food or fuel sooner or later."^

She wouldn't wait that long. Contrary to Sam's bravado, she could probably outshoot us. Disabling us in this airless environment would, of course, necessitate a "rescue."

"And if I leave Terran Maze?"

"That's your privilege. But you will have to stay out permanently. Not very good for your business, is it?"

"I must agree with you on that point."

"So, what do you say?"

I squelched the circuit. "What's the game, Sam?"

"String her along. We'll figure out something by the time we get back to Hothouse. Maybe Cheetah can find us more of those back jungle roads."

The very thought of such an eventuality made me say, "No chance, Mona. Mona honey, I don't know how you can sleep nights. You know the charges are trumped-up, and I think you know exactly what happened back at Greystoke Groves, and at Sonny's."

"Just doing my job, sweetie. It was Wilkes who reported the fatality and pressed the assault charge. I'm only following orders. True, I know Wilkes wants your blood in a crystal decanter… but I have nothing on him! You'd have to press counter-charges for me to help you. But it seems to me he's getting the worst of it. He has one boy dead and another in the iso-clinic growing a new trigger finger."

"In other words, if I turn up dead eventually, the moral weight of the issue will be on my side."

"I'm sorry, Jake. But, as I said, I have orders."

I looked back at Darla. "Darla, it's up to you. She didn't mention anything about a woman suspect. Say the word, we'll go back, and you're out of it completely."

"I'm for making a break for that third portal," she said, those ionospheric blue eyes glowing strangely.

"Jake, are you listening? I want to assure you that you will get all the protection you need, from Wilkes or anybody. I'll personally guarantee that you… wait just a sec."

The radio sputtered as she stopped transmitting.

"What is it, Sam?"

"Something coming in ahead. And I think I know what it is."

I looked at the forward view, switched it telescopic, and punched it on the main screen. A large vehicle was decelerating from a terrific rate of speed, l looked at the tracking readouts.

"Mach two point three and decelerating at fifteen Gs," I observed. "And it's not a reaction-drive buggy." I looked up to eyeball it. "There's only one thing it could be."

"Mona's in a truckload of trouble," Sam said, an edge of troubled concern to his voice.

The vehicle, as it appeared on the video hookup, was almost featureless, a low, lengthwise half a watermelon on rollers, gleaming bright silver. As it closed with frightening speed, it looked like a minimal-art representation of a mammoth beetle, or the overgrown pull-toy of a giant child. It was at once comic and deadly.

Mona was obviously thinking of making a run for it, but the thing was coming up too fast. She pulled away about a hundred meters or so, an effort, I suppose, to appear innocent.

Moments later, the "Skyway Patrol" car swooped in soundlessly, pulled off onto the shoulder between the cruiser and us.

The speaker boomed. The voice spoke in Intersystem. "STATE THE REASON FOR THIS INTERRUPTION OF TRAFFIC."

Imagine the most nonhuman voice possible, add all sorts of skin-crawling overtones from the extreme ends of the aural spectrum, then boost the signal till it breaks your ears. I turned down the gain on the amplifier.

"We are rendering assistance," Mona stated firmly, covering her nervousness. There was no question whom the Patrol car was addressing.

"STATE THE PROBLEM."

"The vehicle behind you was experiencing mechanical difficulty."

A pause. Then: "WE DETECT NONE."

"The problem has been corrected."

"DESCRIBE THE NATURE OF THE PROBLEM."

Mona was resentful. "Why don't you ask them?"

"OCCUPANTS OF COMMERCIAL TRANSPORT VEHICLE: CAN YOU VERIFY THESE CONTENTIONS?"

"Yes, we can. We had a loss of magnetic confinement due to a defective electronic component. The component has been replaced."

"FALSE." The voice was emotionless. "WE DETECTED THE ARRIVAL OF TWO NEUTRINO EMISSION SOURCES WHILE PATROLLING THIS SECTION. NO LOSS OF FUSION REACTION WAS OBSERVED FROM EITHER SOURCE."

It was over. "Sorry, Mona. I did my best." I did not transmit that.

"OCCUPANT OF LAW-ENFORCEMENT VEHICLE:

YOU ARE AWARE THAT HALTING TRAFFIC ON THIS ROAD IS NOT TOLERATED."

It was not a question.

"EXCEPT FOR EMERGENCY PURPOSES OR MECHANICAL FAILURE, THERE ARE NO EXCEPTIONS. YOU ARE AWARE OF THE PENALTY. PREPARE TO END YOUR EXISTENCE. TIME WILL BE AFFORDED FOR RELIGIOUS CEREMONY OR CUSTOM. UPON THE FIFTIETH SOUNDING OF THE TONE, YOU WILL BE TERMINATED."

There began a bonging.

Mona was dead and she knew it, but her ass-end exploded in plasma flame and she took off. Instead of heading downroad, she swung sharply out over the dust-coated surface of the planetoid, trailing a spectacular plume of reddish-gray soil. She was trying to make it to the far side of a nearby rise for cover in the blind hope that the Patrol vehicle couldn't follow. Nobody knew enough about the "Roadbugs" to say one way or the other; none had ever been observed off-road. It was the only chance Mona had, and she took it.