oy of four and a
chubby, curly-haired girl of two or thereabouts. They ran across the
lawn toward a big, low-slung sedan.

"Sure you got your caffeine tablets?" he demanded as they ran.

"Uh-huh."

"You'll need 'em. Drive like the devil--_stay ahead_! You can--this heap
has got the legs of a centipede and you've got plenty of gas and oil.
Eleven hundred miles from anywhere and a population of one-tenth per
square mile--you'll be safe there if anybody is."

"It isn't us I'm worried about--it's you!" she panted. "Technos' wives
get a few minutes' notice ahead of the H-blast--I'll be ahead of the
rush and I'll stay ahead. It's you, Ted--_you_!"

"Don't worry, keed. That popcycle of mine has got legs, too, and there
won't be so much traffic, the way I'm going."

"Oh, blast! I didn't mean that, and you know it!"

They were at the car. While he jammed the two bags into an
exactly-fitting space, she tossed the children into the front seat, slid
lithely under the wheel, and started the engine.

"I know you didn't, sweetheart. I'll be back." He kissed her and the
little girl, the while shaking hands with his son. "Kidlets, you and
mother are going out to visit Grand-dad Kinnison, like we told you all
about. Lots of fun. I'll be along later. Now, Lady Lead-Foot, scram--and
shovel on the coal!"

The heavy vehicle backed and swung; gravel flew as the accelerator-pedal
hit the floor.

Kinnison galloped across the alley and opened the door of a small
garage, revealing a long, squat motorcycle. Two deft passes of his hands
and two of his three spotlights were no longer white--one flashed a
brilliant purple, the other a searing blue. He dropped a perforated
metal box into a hanger and flipped a switch--a peculiarly-toned siren
began its ululating shriek. He took the alley turn at an angle of
forty-five degrees; burned the pavement toward Diversey.

The light was red. No matter--everybody had stopped--that siren could be
heard for miles. He barreled into the intersection; his step-plate
ground the concrete as he made a screaming left turn.

A siren--creeping up from behind. City tone. Two red spots--city cop--so
soon--good! He cut his gun a trifle, the other bike came alongside.

"Is this IT?" the uniformed rider yelled, over the coughing thunder of
the competing exhausts.

"Yes!" Kinnison yelled back. "Clear Diversey to the Outer Drive, and the
Drive south to Gary and north to Waukegan. Snap it up!"

The white-and-bl