rdon, the medic and the guards piled out, the latter with the
stretcher. The orderly-driver got out his tablet pistol and checked
the chamber, then settled into a posture of watchful relaxation. Major
Slater was waiting for them by one of the vertical lift platforms.

"I tried to get hold of you, but that blasted meeting was going on,
and they had the doors sealed, and--" he began.

Cardon hushed him quickly. "Around here, I'm an Illiterate," he
warned. "Where's Pelton? We've got to get him and his daughter out of
here, at once."

"He's still flat on his back, out cold," Slater said. "The medic you
sent around here gave him a shot of hypnotaine: he'll be out for a
couple of hours, yet. Prestonby's still here. He's commanding the
defense; doing a good job, too."

That was good. Ralph would help get Claire to Literates' Hall, after
they'd gotten her father to safety.

"There must be about five hundred Independent-Conservative storm
troopers in the store," Slater was saying. "Most of them got here
after we did. The city cops have all the street approaches roped off;
they're letting nobody but Grant Hamilton's thugs in."

"They were fairly friendly this morning," Cardon said. "Mayor Jameson
must have passed the word." They all got off the lift two floors down,
where they found Claire Pelton and Ralph Prestonby waiting. "Hello,
Ralph. Claire. What's the situation?"

"We have all the twelfth floor," Prestonby said. "We have about half
the eleventh, including the north and west public stages. We have the
basement and the storerooms and the warehouse--Sergeant Coccozello's
down there, with as many of the store police and Literates and
Literates' guards and store-help as he could salvage, and the
warehouse gang. They've taken most of the ground floor, the main
mezzanine, and parts of the second floor. We moved two of the 7-mm
machine guns down from the top, and we control the front street
entrance with them and a couple of sono guns. The store's isolated
from the outside by the city police, who are allowing re-enforcements
to come through for the raiders, but we're managing to stop them at
the doors."

"Have you called Radical-Socialist headquarters for help?"

"Yes, half a dozen times. There's some fellow named Yingling there,
who says that all their storm troops are over in North Jersey, on some
kind of a false-alarm riot-call, and can't be contacted."

"So?" Cardon commented gently. "That's too bad, now." Too bad