Everybody snapped back to normal with a roar. There was a frantic rush
of Shanig's uglies trying to escape and of Giles' patrolies collaring
them again. I took no chances with Shanig. I turned my Quantrell on him
and held him fast.
Hell broke loose in the Argonaut then. Even before the confusion
quieted in Shanig's office we could hear the din that went up across
the street.
From our balcony windows we had a grandstand view of the Argonaut's
more timid patrons exploding out of the place and tearing down the
street, wobbling and lurching each in his own outlandish fashion from
the assortment of Eetee drinks they had taken aboard under Joey's
spell. The rougher souls left inside had begun a battle royal that
raised a bedlam wilder than a robot rooting section at a rocket-games
stadium.
"What is it!" Captain Giles yelled, goggling at a barrel-bellied
Europan who shot out of the Argonaut with a pack of little baboon-faced
Marties harrying its speeding cart from the rear. "What have you done
now?"
"Shanig has just ruined a forty-thousand-credit investment for
me," I told him, "by letting my pair of smileys get together. That
peace-be-on-you feeling they've been broadcasting is a thing of the
past. They feel just the opposite now, and so will anyone who goes near
them."