had been lured out to some kind of a disturbance in NorthJersey Borough; he'd try to get them recalled."
Prestonby swore bitterly. "By the time his own party-goons get here,the Literates' Guards and Macy & Gimbel's will have pulled Pelton'sbacon off the fire for him. Nice friends he has!"
An alarm buzzer went off suddenly, and an urgent voice came out of thebox on the wall:
"Here come the goons! South escalator!"
Prestonby grabbed a burp gun and a canvas musette bag full of clips.By the time he had gotten down to what, in deference to thesuperstitions of the Illiterate store force, was known as thefourteenth floor, an attack on the north escalator had developed aswell. In both cases, the attackers seemed to expect no organizedresistance. They simply jumped onto the escalators, adding their ownrunning speed, and came rushing up, firing pistols ahead of them atrandom.
The defenders, however, had been ready: the fire hoses caught those inthe lead and hurled them back. Some of them vaulted the barrierbetween the ascending and descending spirals and let themselves becarried down again. Less than five minutes after the buzzer hadsounded the warning, the attack stopped. The noise on the twelfthfloor increased, however, and, leaning over into the escalator-way,Prestonby could see the rioters firing in the direction of theentrance from the north landing stage. Within a matter of thirtyseconds, they began to flee, and a wave of Literates' Guards, in theirfuturistic "space cadet" uniforms, came pouring in after them.
* * * * *
Douglass MacArthur Yetsko put the burp gun back together again, triedthe action, and laid it aside with a sigh. He had cleaned every weaponin his and Prestonby's private arsenal, since lunch, and now he had toadmit the unpalatable fact that there was nothing left to do but turnon the TV. Ray had been no company at all; the boy hadn't spoken aword since he'd started rummaging among the captain's books. Gloomily,he snapped on the screen to sample the soap shows.
Della Pallas was in jail again, this time accused of murdering thelawyer who had gotten her acquitted on a previous murder rap.Considering the fact that she had languished in jail for almost a yearduring the other trial, Yetsko felt that she had a sound motive.Rudolf Barstow, in "Broadway Wife," was, like Bruce's spider,spinning his five hundredth web to ensnare the glamorous MarieKnobble. And there was a show about a schoolteacher and her class ofangelic little tots that almost brought Yetsko's lunch up.
He shifted the dial again; a young Literate announcer was speakingquickly, excitedly:
"... Scene of the riot, already the worst this year, and growingsteadily worse. We take you now to downtown Manhattan, where ourportable units and commentators have just arrived, and switch you toEd Morgan."
The screen went black, and Yetsko swore angrily. Ray lifted his headquickly from his book and reached for the sono pistol Yetsko had givenhim.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and just a moment, until we cangive you the picture. We're having what is usually labeled as 'slighttechnical difficulties,' in this case the difficulty of avoidinghaving a hole shot in our camera or in your commentator's head. Yes,that's shooting you hear; there, somebody's using an auto rifle! Howare you coming, Steve?"
A voice muttered something which, two centuries ago, would have causedan earth-shaking scandal in the whole radio-TV industry.
"Well, till Steve gets things fixed up, a brief review, to date, ofwhat's sure to go down in history as the Battle of Pelton'sPurchasers' Paradise--"
"Huh?" Ray fairly shouted, the book forgotten.
"... Started in the Chinaware Department, as a relatively innocentbrawl, and spread to the Liquor Department, and then, all of a sudden,everybody started playing rough. At first, it was suspected that Macy& Gimbel's had sent a goon gang around to break up Pelton's fall sale,but when the former concern rallied to the assistance of theircompetitor with a force of twenty riflemen, that began to look lesslikely, and we're beginning to think that it might be the work of someof Pelton's political enemies. About ten minutes ago, Major James F.Slater, of the Literates' Guards, arrived with two hundred of his men,to protect the Literates on duty at the store. They captured theentire twelfth floor, where we are, now, with the exception of theLadies' Lingerie and Hosiery departments around one of the escalatorsto the lower floors; here the gang who started the riot, and who arenow donning white hoods to distinguish themselves from the variousother factions involved, have thrown up barricades of counters anddisplay tables and are fighting bitterly to keep control of theescalator head. Ah, here we are!"
The screen lit suddenly, and they were looking, Ray over Yetsko'sshoulder, across the devastated expanse of what had been the Ladies'Frocks department, toward Lingerie and Hosiery, which seemed to havebeen thoroughly looted, then stripped of everything that could be usedto build a barricade.
"... Seems to have been quite a number of heavy 'copters just landedon the east stage, filled with more goons, probably to re-enforce thegang back of that barricade. The firing's gotten noticeably heavier--"
* * * * *
Yetsko had turned from the screen, and was pawing in the arms locker.For a job like this, he'd need firepower. He took the ten-shot clipfrom the butt of his pistol and inserted one with a curlinghundred-shot drum at the bottom, and shoved two more like it into thepockets of his jacket. And now, something to clear the way with. Hetook out a three-foot length of weighted fire hose.
Then he saw Ray. That kid was pinning him down, here, while thecaptain was probably fighting for his life! But the captain'd told himto stay with Ray--He dropped the weighted hose.
"What's the matter, Doug?" the boy asked. "Pick it up and let's getgoing."
He shook his head. "Can't. The captain told me I had to take care ofyou."
The boy opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and thought for amoment. Then he asked:
"Doug, didn't Captain Prestonby tell you to stay with me?"
"Yes--"
"All right. You do just that, because I'm going to help Claire and thesenator. That's who that goon gang's after."
Yetsko considered the proposition for a moment, horrified. Why, thiswas the captain's girl's kid brother; if anything happened to him--Hismind refused to contemplate what the captain would do to him.
"No. You gotta stay here, Ray," he said. "The captain--"
Then his eye caught the screen. Ed Morgan must have found a placewhere he could run his camera up on an extension rod from behindsomething; they were looking down, from almost ceiling height, at thebarricade, and at the Literates' guards who were firing from cover atit. A sudden blast of automatic-weapons burst from the barricade; moremen in white hoods came boiling up the escalator, and they all rushedforward. The few Literates' guards skirmishers were overwhelmed. Hesaw one of them, a man he knew, Sam Igoe, from Company 5, go downwounded; he saw one of the white-hooded goons pause to brain him witha carbine butt before charging on.
"Why, you dirty rotten Illiterate--!" he roared, retrieving hisweighted hose. "Come on, Ray; let's go!"
Ray hesitated, as though in thought. "Ken Dorchin; Harry Cobb; DickHirschfield; Jerry McCarty; Ramon Nogales; Pete Shawne; TomHutchinson--"
"Who--?" Yetsko began. "What've they gotta do with--?"
"We need a gang; the two of us'd last about as long as a pint of beerat a Dutch picnic." Ray went to the desk, grabbed a pen, and made alist of names, in a fair imitation of Ralph Prestonby's neatblock-printing. "Give this to the girl outside, and tell her to havethem called for and sent in here," the boy directed. "And see if youcan find us some transport. I think there ought to be a couple of big'copters finished down at the shops. And if you can find a couple moreLiterates' guards you can talk into going with us--"
Yetsko nodded and took the paper without question. He was not, and hewould be the first to admit it, of the thinking type. He was a goodsergeant, but he had to have an officer to tell him what to do. RayPelton might be only fifteen years old, but his sister was thecaptain's girl, and that put him in th
e officer class. A very youngand recently-commissioned second lieutenant, say, but definitely anofficer. Yetsko took the list and looked at it. Like most Literates'guards, he could read, after a fashion. He recognized the names; theboys were all members of the top floor secret society. He went out andgave the list to Martha Collins.
He'd expected some argument with her, but she seemed to accept RayPelton's printing as Prestonby's; she began checking room charts andclass lists, and calling for the boys to be sent at once to theoffice. He went out, and down to the 'copter repair shop, where hefound that a big four-ton air truck that the senior class