d, general, and we're
ready to feed them. Of course, we still have some things to put away
over here--"

"Skip it," Bennington said. "We can have that done tomorrow morning."

"Judkins has asked permission to go to Harrisburg tonight. He wants to
see his sister about an apartment there. Several of the permanent
personnel do that. It's easy to get back and forth, and there's more
to do--"

"Tell him to take off. And let's see, we'll need him in the morning,
but maybe we can give him the afternoon off in return for his overtime
work tonight."

"I like that, general, and I'll do it. Now, I'm going to see that the
prisoners are fed, then I'd like to see you in your office."

"I want to see you, too, Dr. Thornberry. Tell Ferguson to arrange
supper for two over here--I haven't eaten either."

"I'll be with you in about fifteen minutes."

* * * * *

Because the office was sound-conditioned, Bennington did not know that
the riot had started until the door slammed open and three men jammed
the doorway, all three trying to get in at once.

Acting by reflex, Bennington shot the man in the center. The other
two, entangled with the dead man, also tumbled to the floor.

The general promptly shot twice more.

Then he paused to think.

One glance told him his instinctive action had been correct. The man
in the center had been Pietro Musto, carrying a carving knife. The
other two ... yes, they had been in the group that had arrived this
afternoon.

But what was wrong? He had watched these men being conditioned....

A burst from a submachine gun echoed through the open door.

First thought: _They've got the armory!_

Second thought: _This is no place for me!_

He picked up his desk chair and smashed the picture window looking out
over the moat on the west side. Then he smashed with the chair again
to remove the fragments that stuck up like jagged knives.

A quick leap over the sill into the darkness, a twenty-foot sprint,
and he was able to throw himself down on the steep slope that five
feet farther on became the moat.

Just in time, he discovered. When he peered through the sparse grass,
he could see two men in his office. One had a shotgun, the other a
rifle. The man with the rifle lifted it to his shoulder and fired into
the ceiling.

Most of the staff, all but six of the guards up there, Bennington
thought.

Resting his right hand against his left arm, he took careful aim an