But this chase was beginning to turn nasty. We were vastly outnumbered and outgunned. "And running out of ammo," Angelina said, echoing my own thoughts.

"Change of venue!" I shouted, dropping towards the green forest below. "Grab the survival kit and get ready for a bumpy landing."

I screeched low over a rock-tipped ridge, dived into the valley beyond-and braked to a hover under the trees below. Angelina had the door open as we juddered to a stop, the kit thrown out, and was diving right out behind it when I hit the twosecond-delay button. I was cutting it a little too close: the doorframe hit my bootheel as I went out. I changed the dive into a roll, hit the ground hard on my shoulders and thudded to a stop, all of the air knocked out of me.

"My hero," my dear wife said, patting my cheek and kissing my forehead. "Now let's move it."

We did. Grabbing up the kit, she gracefully, and I haltingly, dived into the protection of the shrubbery.

Meanwhile above the trees the battle roared as our faithful hoverfloat defended itself with all the robotic skill at its command. Alas, the fracas ended suddenly with a tremendous explosion.

"End of champagne and caviar," Angelina said, her voice so cold I felt my body temperature drop.

"I'll not contribute to the Policeman's Ball this year." I grimaced.

She laughed warmly and squeezed my hand. And the old, cold deadly Angelina slipped away.

"Let's make tracks," I said. "Before they discover that they were fighting the robot pilot."

"Let us not," she said. "This is a nice big tree that we are under. It will shield us from visual observation, perhaps infrared imaging as well. If they suspect that we were not in the hoverfloat they could backtrack and look for us."

"Your logic is impeccable," I said, rooting through the survival kit. Guns, grenades, all the necessities of life. "And to carry that logic a bit further-why were the police trying to shoot us up?"