reason for wanting to wipe out the Star in an unexplainedblowup. There I have definite information. Did you know the Mooleybrothers owned the Star?"
"Yes."
"I've been working for the Mooleys the past eight months," Reetalsaid, "checking up on employees at Velladon's level for indications ofgraft. And it appears the commodore had been robbing them blind herefor at least several years."
"Sort of risky thing to try with the Mooleys, from what I hear,"Quillan remarked.
"Yes. Very. Velladon had reason to be getting a little desperate aboutthat. Two men were planted here a month ago. One of them is SherHeraga, the steward I told you about. The other man came in as abookkeeper. Two weeks ago, Heraga got word out that the bookkeeper haddisappeared. Velladon and Ryter apparently got wise to what he wastrying to do. So the Mooleys sent me here to find out exactly what wasgoing on before they took action. I arrived four days ago."
She gave a regretful little headshake. "I waited almost a day beforecontacting Heraga. It seemed advisable to move very cautiously in thematter. But that made it a little too late to do anything. Quillan,for the past three days, the Seventh Star Hotel has been locked uplike a bank vault. And except for ourselves, only the people who arein on the plot are aware of it."
"The message transmitters are inoperative?" he asked.
Reetal nodded. "The story is that a gravitic storm center in the areahas disrupted transmissions completely for the time being."
"What about incoming ships?"
"Yours was the only one scheduled before the _Camelot_ arrives. Itleft again eight hours ago. Nobody here had been let on board. Theguests who wanted to apply for outgoing berths were told there werenone open, that they'd have to wait for the _Camelot_."
She went over to a desk, unlocked a drawer, took out a sheaf ofpapers, and handed one of them to Quillan. "That's the layout of theStar," she said. "This five-level building over by the shell is theExecutive Block. The Brotherhood and the commodore's men moved inthere this morning. The Block is the Star's defense center. It'sraid-proofed, contains the control officers and the transmitter andarmament rooms. About the standard arrangement. While they hold theExecutive Block, they have absolute control of the Star."
"If it's the defense center, it should be practically impossible to doanything about them there," Quillan agreed. "They could close it up,and dump the air out of the rest of the Star in a minute, if they hadto. But there must be ... well, what about the lifeboats in thesubspace section--and our pals must have a getaway ship stashed awaysomewhere?"
"They have two ships," Reetal said. "A souped-up armed freighter theBrotherhood came in on, and a large armed yacht which seems to be thecommodore's personal property. Unfortunately, they're both in subspacelocks."
"Why unfortunately?"
"Because they've sealed off subspace. Try portaling down there, andyou'll find yourself looking at a battle-plastic bulkhead. There's noway of getting either to those ships or to the lifeboats."
Quillan lifted his eyebrows. "And _that_ hasn't caused any comment?What about the maintenance crews, the warehouse men, the--"
"All the work crews were hauled out of subspace this morning," Reetalsaid. "On the quiet, the Star's employees have been told that a gangof raiders was spotted in the warehouse area, and is at presentcornered there. Naturally, the matter isn't to be mentioned to theguests, to avoid arousing unnecessary concern. And that explainseverything very neatly. The absence of the security men, and whysubspace is sealed off. Why the Executive Block is under guard, andcan't be entered--and why the technical and office personnel in theredon't come out, and don't communicate out. They've been put onemergency status, officially."
* * * * *
"Yunk," Quillan said disgustedly after a moment. "This begins to looklike a hopeless situation, doll!"
"True."
"Let's see now--"
Reetal interrupted, "There is one portal still open to subspace.That's in the Executive Block, of course, and Heraga reports it'sheavily guarded."
"How does he know?"
"The Block's getting its meals from Phalagon House. He floated a dinerin there a few hours ago."
"Well," Quillan said, brightening, "perhaps a deft flavoring ofpoison--"
Reetal shook her head. "I checked over the hospital stocks. Not athing there that wouldn't be spotted at once. Unless we can clobberthem thoroughly, we can't afford to make them suspicious with a tricklike that."
"Poison would be a bit rough on the office help, too," Quillanconceded. "They wouldn't be in on the deal."
"No, they're not. They're working under guard."
"Gas ... no, I suppose not. It would take too long to whip upsomething that could turn the trick." Quillan glanced at his watch."If the _Camelot_ docks at midnight, we've around six and a half hoursleft, doll! And I don't find myself coming up with any brilliantideas. What have you thought of?"
Reetal hesitated a moment. "Nothing very brilliant either," she saidthen. "But there are two things we might try as a last resort."
"Let's hear them."
"I know a number of people registered in the Star at present who'd becarrying personal weapons. If they were told the facts, I couldprobably line up around twenty who'd be willing to make a try to getinto the Executive Block, and take over either the control offices orthe transmitter room. If we got a warning out to the _Camelot_, thatwould break up the plot. Of course, it wouldn't necessarily save theStar."
"No," Quillan said, "but it's worth trying if we can't think ofsomething better. How would you get them inside?"
"We could crowd twenty men into one of those diner trucks, and Heragacould take us in."
"What kind of people are your pals?"
"A few smugglers and confidence men I've had connections with. Fairlygood boys for this sort of thing. Then there's an old millionairesportsman, with a party of six, waiting to transfer to the _Camelot_for a safari on Jontarou. Old Philmarron isn't all there, in myopinion, but he's dead game and loves any kind of a ruckus. We cancount on him and his friends, if they're not too drunk at the moment.Still ... that's not too many to set against something less than ahundred professional guns, even though some of them must be down onthe two ships."
"No, not enough." Quillan looked thoughtful. "What's the other idea?"
"Let the cat out of the bag generally. Tell the guests and theemployees out here what's going on, and see if somebody can think ofsomething that might be done."
He shook his head. "What you'd set off with that would be anywherebetween a riot and a panic. The boys in the Executive Block wouldsimply give us the breathless treatment. Apparently, they prefer tohave everything looking quiet and normal when the _Camelot_ getshere--"
"But they don't have to play it that way," Reetal agreed. "We might bedead for hours before the liner docks. If they keep the landing lockclosed until what they want has been unloaded, nobody on the _Camelot_would realize what had happened before it was too late."
* * * * *
There was a moment's silence. Then Quillan said, "You mentioned you'dpicked up a clue to what they're after. What was that?"
"Well, that's a curious thing," Reetal said. "On the trip out here, ayoung girl name of Solvey Kinmarten attached herself to me. She didn'twant to talk much, but I gathered she was newly married, and that herhusband was on board and was neglecting her. She's an appealing littlething, and she seemed so forlorn and upset that I adopted her for therest of the run. After we arrived, of course, I pretty well forgotabout the Kinmartens and their troubles.
"A few hours ago, Solvey suddenly came bursting into the suite whereI'm registered. She was shaking all over. After I calmed her down abit, she spilled out her story. She and her husband, Brock Kinmarten,are rest wardens. With another man named Eltak, whom Solvey describesas 'some sort of crazy old coot,' they're assigned to escort twodeluxe private rest cubicles to a very exclusive sanatorium onMezmiali. But Brock told Solvey at the beginning of the
trip that thiswas a very unusual assignment, that he didn't want her even to comenear the cubicles. That wouldn't have bothered her so much, she says,but on the way here Brock became increasingly irritable andabsent-minded. She knew he was worrying about the cubicles, and shebegan to wonder whether they weren't involved in something illegal.The pay was very high; they're both getting almost twice the
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