"Something useful, I think. And wouldn't that shock the Duke ... the
first time he's been of any use to anybody. Zip through the Star's
ComWeb directory, doll, and get me the call symbol for Level Four of
the Executive Block!"
* * * * *
Solvey Kinmarten dimmed the lights a trifle in the bedroom, went back
to Brock, rearranged the pillows under his head, and bent down to
place her lips tenderly to the large bruises on his forehead and the
side of his jaw. Then she brought a chair up beside the bed, and sat
down to watch him.
Perhaps a minute later, there was a slight noise behind her. Startled,
she glanced around, saw something huge, black and shapeless moving
swiftly across the carpet of the room toward her.
Solvey quietly fainted.
* * * * *
"Sure you know what to say?" Quillan asked.
Reetal moistened her lips. "Just let me go over it in my mind once
more." She was sitting on the floor, on the right side of the ComWeb
stand, her face pale and intent, "You know," she said, "this makes me
feel a little queasy somehow, Quillan! And suppose they don't fall for
it?"
"They'll fall for it!" Quillan was on his knees in front of the stand,
supporting Fluel's body, which was sprawled half across it, directly
before the lit vision screen. An outflung arm hid the Duke's face from
the screen. "You almost had _me_ thinking I was listening to Fluel
when you did the take-off of him this evening. A dying man can be
expected to sound a little odd, anyway." He smiled at her
encouragingly. "Ready now?"
Reetal nodded nervously, cleared her throat.
Quillan reached across Fluel tapped out Level Four's call symbol on
the instrument, ducked back down below the stand. After a moment,
there was a click.
Reetal produced a quavering, agonized groan. Somebody else gasped.
"_Duke_!" Baldy Perk's voice shouted. "What's happened?"
"Baldy Perk!" Quillan whispered quickly.
Reetal stammered hoarsely, "The c-c-commodore, Baldy! Shot me ... shot
Marras! They're after ... Quillan ... now!"
"I thought Bad News...." Baldy sounded stunned.
"Was w-wrong, Baldy," Reetal croaked. "Bad News ... with us! Bad News ...
pal! The c-c-comm--"
Beneath the ComWeb stand the palm of Quillan's right hand thrust
abruptly up and forward. The stand tilted, went crashing back to the
floor. Fluel's body lurched over with it. The vision screen shattered.
Baldy's roaring question was cut off abruptly.
"Great stuff, doll!" Quillan beamed, helping Reetal to her feet. "You
sent shudders down my back!"
"Down mine, too!"
"I'll get him out of here now. Ditch him in one of the shut-off
sections. Then I'll get back to the Executive Block. If Ryter's
thought to look into Kinmarten's room, they'll really be raving on
both sides there now!"
"Is that necessary?" Reetal asked. "For you to go back, I mean.
Somebody besides Fluel might have become suspicious of you by now."
"Ryter might," Quillan agreed. "He's looked like the sharpest of the
lot right from the start. But we'll have to risk that. We've got all
the making of a shooting war there now, but we've got to make sure it
gets set off before somebody thinks of comparing notes. If I'm around,
I'll keep jolting at their nerves."
"I suppose you're right. Now, our group--"
Quillan nodded. "No need to hold off on that any longer, the way
things are moving. Get on another ComWeb and start putting out those
Mayday messages right now! As soon as you've rounded the boys up--"
"That might," Reetal said, "take a little less than an hour."
"Fine. Then move them right into the Executive Block. With just a bit
of luck, one hour from now should land them in the final stages of a
beautiful battle on the upper levels. Give them my description and
Ryter's, so we don't have accidents."
"Why Ryter's?"
"Found out he was the boy who took care of the bomb-planting detail.
We want him alive. The others mightn't know where it's been tucked
away. Heraga says the clerical staff and technicians in there are all
wearing the white Star uniforms. Anyone else who isn't in one of those
uniforms is fair game--" He paused. "Oh, and tip them off about the
Hlat!--God only knows what that thing will be doing when the ruckus
starts."
"What about sending a few men in through the fifth level portal, the
one you've unplugged?"
Quillan considered, shook his head. "No. Down on the ground level is
where we want them. They'd have to portal there again from the fifth,
and a portal is too easy to seal off and defend. Now let's get a
blanket or something to tuck Fluel into. I don't want to feel
conspicuous if I run into somebody on the way."
* * * * *
Quillan emerged cautiously from the fifth portal in the Executive
Block a short while later, came to a sudden stop just outside it. In
the big room beyond the entry hall, the door of the baited cubicle was
closed, and the life-indicator on the door showed a bright steady
green glow.
Quillan stared at it a moment, looking somewhat surprised, then went
quietly into the room and bent to study the cubicle's instruments. A
grin spread slowly over his face. The trap had been sprung. He glanced
at the deep-rest setting and turned it several notches farther down.
"Happy dreams, Lady Pendrake!" he murmured. "That takes care of you.
What an appetite! And now--"
As the Level Four portal dilated open before him, a gun blazed from
across the hall. Quillan flung himself out and down, rolled to the
side, briefly aware of a litter of bodies and tumbled furniture
farther up the hall. Then he was flat on the carpet, gun out before
him, pointing back at the overturned, ripped couch against the far
wall from which the fire had come.