dark but as Bennington watched, a short burst
of submachine gun fire tracered across the darkness from the kitchen
toward the armory.

"Listen, you screws, listen to this!"

The gigantic voice thundered through every corner of the compound. For
a second Bennington was startled, then he remembered. The rioters
controlled Message Center and the PA system.

"Stop shooting at us. Don't forget that half your staff is in here.
Every time you shoot one of us, we are shooting one of them."

The words came through on only part of Bennington's attention. They
registered, but he was also studying the seventy feet of open ground
between him and the nearest door into the mess hall.

The big voice again filled the compound.

"We want to talk to the warden if he's still alive. Or whoever can
take his place if he ain't. You got five minutes to call us on the
intercom."

I can talk to them from the kitchen if I can get there, Bennington
thought.

He glanced back over his shoulder. The moon, thought full, was only
part-way up.

_I'm sixty-five, but maybe I've got one fast run still left._

He did. He made it without a shot being fired.

But he stayed on his belly just outside the door, remembering the
submachine gun. From the shadow of the step into the mess hall, he
used his command voice to get safe passage.

"Thornberry!"

"General Bennington!"

The psychologist almost twisted Bennington's hand off before he could
speak. Then his first words puzzled the general. "We've got to find
Judkins."

"Why?"

"I want to know what went wrong--"

"That can wait. Let's put the fire out first, then learn how it
started. Who's here with you?"

"The two guards. Rayburne! Householder! Come here!"

"Only those two? Where's the kitchen staff?"

"Dead," said Thornberry soberly.

There was a roaring in the skies and through a window Bennington could
see the compound was almost as brightly lit up as it was by day.

"The riot-copter, and before I expected it," the general said, "I've
been in touch with the State police. And the Army."

There was another short burst of submachine fire. Bennington mentally
placed it as behind the Administration Building. _Someone trying to
sneak out the back way...._

"Stop that shooting!" The PA confirmed his thoughts. "No one else is
going to try to leave here. Warden, get on that intercom!"

_Got to hurry_, Bennington thought, _I've got to get them talking and
keep them talking_.

"Hous