will
endanger some of the growing vats at the carniculture plant on the
Second Level Down. I repeat, this is a tallow-wax fire. Do not use
water or chemical extinguishers."

About half of the Vigilantes, businessmen who belonged to one or
another of the volunteer companies had bugged out for their fire
stations already. The Buddhist priest and a couple of doctors were
also leaving. The rest, mostly hunter-ship men, were standing around
looking at one another.

Oscar Fujisawa gave a sour laugh. "That diversion idea of mine was all
right," he said. "The only trouble was that Steve Ravick thought of it
first."

"You think he started the fire?" Dad began, and then gave a sourer
laugh than Oscar's. "Am I dumb enough to ask that?"

I had started assembling equipment as soon as the feint on the
Municipal Building and the attack on Hunters' Hall had gotten into the
discussion stage. I would use a jeep that had a heavy-duty audiovisual
recording and transmitting outfit on it, and for situations where I'd
have to leave the jeep and go on foot, I had a lighter outfit like the
one Oscar had brought with him in the Pequod's boat. Then I had my
radio for two-way conversation with the office. And, because this
wasn't likely to be the sort of war in which the rights of
noncombatants like war correspondents would be taken very seriously,
I had gotten out my Sterberg 7.7-mm.

Dad saw me buckling it on, and seemed rather distressed.

"Better leave that, Walt," he said. "You don't want to get into any
shooting."

Logical, I thought. If you aren't prepared for something, it just
won't happen. There's an awful lot of that sort of thinking going on.
As I remember my Old Terran history, it was even indulged in by
governments, at one time. None of them exists now.

"You know what all crawls into the Bottom Level," I reminded him. "If
you don't, ask Mr. Murell, here. One sent him to the hospital."

Dad nodded; I had a point there. The abandoned sections of Bottom
Level are full of tread-snails and other assorted little nasties, and
the heat of the fire would stir them all up and start them moving
around. Even aside from the possibility that, having started the fire,
Steve Ravick's gang would try to take steps to keep it from being put
out too soon, a gun was going to be a comforting companion, down
there.

"Well, stay out of any fighting. Your job's to get the news, not play
hero in gun fights. I'm no hero; that's why I'm sixty ye