I relayed that. The others nodded.
“Nip Spazoni and a few others are bringing men and guns up from the docks and putting a cordon around the place on the Main City Level,” Oscar said. “Your father will probably be hearing that they’re moving into position now.”
He had. He also said that he had called all the vehicles on the First and Second Levels Down; they all reported no activity in Hunters’ Hall except one jeep on Second Level Down, which did not report at all.
Everybody was puzzled about that.
“That’s the jeep that reported Bish Ware going in on the bottom,” Mohandas Feinberg said. “I wonder if somebody inside mightn’t have gotten both the man on the jeep and Bish.”
“He could have left the jeep,” Joe said. “Maybe he went inside after Bish.”
“Funny he didn’t call in and say so,” somebody said.
“No, it isn’t,” I contradicted. “Manufacturers’ claims to the contrary, there is no such thing as a tap-proof radio. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to leave his post, but if he did, he used his head not advertising it.”
“That makes sense,” Oscar agreed. “Well, whatever happened, we’re not doing anything standing around up here. Let’s get it started.”
He walked away, raising his voice and calling, “Pequod! Pequod! All hands on deck!”
The others broke away from the group, shouting the names of their ships to rally their crews. I hurried over to the jeep and checked my equipment. There wasn’t too much film left in the big audiovisual, so I replaced it with a fresh sound-and-vision reel, good for another couple of hours, and then lifted to the ceiling. Worrying about Tom wouldn’t help Tom, and worrying about Bish wouldn’t help Bish, and I had a job to do.
What I was getting now, and I was glad I was starting a fresh reel for it, was the beginning of the First Fenris Civil War. A long time from now, when Fenris was an important planet in the Federation, maybe they’d make today a holiday, like Bastille Day or the Fourth of July or Federation Day. Maybe historians, a couple of centuries from now, would call me an important primary source, and if Cesário’s religion was right, maybe I’d be one of them, saying, “Well, after all, is Boyd such a reliable source? He was only seventeen years old at the time.”
Finally, after a lot of yelling and confusion, the Rebel Army got moving. We all went up to Main City Level and went down Broadway, spreading out side streets when we began running into the cordon that had been thrown around Hunters’ Hall. They were mostly men from the waterfront who hadn’t gotten to the wax fire, and they must have stripped the guns off half the ships in the harbor and mounted them on lorries or cargo skids.
Nobody, not even Joe Kivelson, wanted to begin with any massed frontal attack on Hunters’ Hall.
“We’ll have to bombard the place,” he was saying. “We try to rush it and we’ll lose half our gang before we get in. One man with good cover and a machine gun’s good for a couple of hundred in the open.”
“Bish may be inside,” I mentioned.
“Yes,” Oscar said, “and even aside from that, that building was built with our money. Let’s don’t burn the house down to get rid of the cockroaches.”
“Well, how are you going to do it, then?” Joe wanted to know. Rule out frontal attack and Joe’s at the end of his tactics.
“You stay up here. Keep them amused with a little smallarms fire at the windows and so on. I’ll take about a dozen men and go down to Second Level. If we can’t do anything else, we can bring a couple of skins of tallow-wax down and set fire to it and smoke them out.”
That sounded like a pretty expensive sort of smudge, but seeing how much wax Ravick had burned uptown, it was only fair to let him in on some of the smoke. I mentioned that if we got into the building and up to Main City Level, we’d need some way of signaling to avoid being shot by our own gang, and got the wavelength combination of the Pequod scout boat, which Joe and Oscar were using for a command car. Oscar picked ten or twelve men, and they got into a lorry and went uptown and down a vehicle shaft to Second Level. I followed in my jeep, even after Oscar and his crowd let down and got out, and hovered behind them as they advanced on foot to Hunters’ Hall.
The Second Level Down was the vehicle storage, where the derricks and other equipment had been kept. It was empty now except for a workbench, a hand forge and some other things like that, a few drums of lubricant, and several piles of sheet metal. Oscar and his men got inside and I followed, going up to the ceiling. I was the one who saw the man lying back of a pile of sheet metal, and called their attention.
He wore boat-clothes and had black whiskers, and he had a knife and a pistol on his belt. At first I thought he was dead. A couple of Oscar’s followers, dragging him out, said:
“He’s been sleep-gassed.”
Somebody else recognized him. He was the lone man who had been on guard in the jeep. The jeep was nowhere in sight.
I began to be really worried. My lighter gadget could have been what had gassed him. It probably was; there weren’t many sleep-gas weapons on Fenris. I had to get fills made up specially for mine. So it looked to me as though somebody had gotten mine off Bish, and then used it to knock out our guard. Taken it off his body I guessed. That crowd wasn’t any
