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"Thought you knew," replied the Bluffer, surprised, opening the door. "More
Jam's daughter, of course More Jam's the innkeeper here in town. Passable
enough female, I suppose, but like any Lowland woman, talk your head off, even
if she hadn't been listening to those crazy notions of Dirty Teeth. Well, see
you in a few minutes "
Out he went. Bill spun around and headed back through the halfway open door
into the living quarters of the Residency.
He knew what he was looking for first, whether Greenleaf or Anita Lyme had
actually left him a message or not. Somewhere in this building there would be
the official daily log of the project and the odds were strongest he would
find it in the room holding the off-plant communications equipment and project
records.
It took him four or five minutes of opening doors before he discovered the
room for which he searched. It was a square, white-walled room with office
equipment and the two banks of consoles which severally operated the Residency
computing equipment and the off-planet communications equipment. On one of the
room's two desks, he saw the heavy, black-bound book which would be the
project log. He sat down hastily at the desk and flipped it open, searching
for the latest entries.
He found them within seconds, but they proved to be unusually uninformative,
merely listing equipment loaned to the farmers and the times and subjects of
conferences between either Greenleaf or Anita Lyme and the local natives.
There was none of the diary-like chattiness that isolated project members
usually added to the log entries in situations like this on Dilbia, and which
might have told Bill a great deal more than he now knew about Greenleaf and
the girl. Three days ago, there was a brief entry in Greenleaf's upright,
hard-stroked hand:
. . .fell from ladder climbing to replace blown-away roofing shakes on
Residency roof above north wall. Broke leg. Have called for medical
assistance.
The next entry, the following day, was in a sloping, more feminine hand.
0800 hours, local time. Resident Greenleaf evacuated by shuttle from nearby
courier ship, for transportation to closest available hospital ship, for
treatment of broken leg.
1030 hours. Leaving for conference with Bone Breaker at Outlaw Valley.
Anita Lyme, Trainee Assistant
That was the last entry in the log, two days ago. There was no message for
Bill from either Greenleaf or Anita, though it was highly irregular of the
girl to go off without leaving one. Unless, that is, she had honestly expected
to be back the same day.
Bill closed the log, got to his feet, and stepped over to the communications
equipment. It was a standard console, arranged to put whoever used the
equipment in touch with a relay station orbiting the planet, which would in
turn re-broadcast the message at multilight velocity to its interstellar
destination. Bill had been checked out on its use, as he had been checked out
on most general equipment in use on off-world projects. He flipped the power
switch and pressed the microphone button.
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Nothing happened. The power light on the console did not go on. The
microphone did not give out the signal hum that announced it as being in
operating condition.
The set was dead.
For a second, Bill stared at it. Then, quickly, he ran over the console,
flipping check switches and trying to locate the malfunction. But nothing
responded. His hands flew to the toggle-nuts holding the face of the panel in
place. Somewhere in the building there would be test equipment and with it,
given time, even he ought to be able to trace down what was keeping the set
from operating.
"PICK-AND-SHOVEL!"
It was the voice of the Hill Bluffer, roaring for him from the reception
room. A second later, it was reinforced by a lighter toned, female Dilbian
voice, also calling him. Grimly, Bill dropped his hands and turned away from
the console. Fixing the communications equipment would have to wait.
He went rapidly out of the room and down the hall toward the front of the
building. A moment later, he stepped into the reception room and found the
Bluffer there with his female companion, who was the first to break off
shouting for Bill as he came through the door.
"Well, there you are, Pick-and-Shovel!" said Sweet Thing for this short,
compact newcomer could only be that Dilbian female whom the Bluffer had gone
to get, thought Bill. "It's high time you got here to Muddy Nose!"
"You knew I was coming?" asked Bill, in the sudden silence as the Bluffer
stopped his shouting in turn and nodded genially at Bill.
"Why, of course we knew you were coming!" said Sweet Thing sharply.
"Didn'tShe sayShe was sending for you? Of courseShe did. She knew how to
handle the situation even if no one else did. AsShe said, the time had come to
strike a blow for our rights. WhatShe said was "
"Let him get a word in edgewise, will you?" roared the Bluffer, for Bill had
valiantly been trying to speak in the face of this torrent of talk.
"Who'sShe ?" asked Bill hurriedly into the moment of silence that followed
Sweet Thing's snort.
"She?" answered Sweet Thing, on a rising note. "Why Dirty Teeth, of
course!She who has roused us at last to strike for our rights against men who
have been telling us what to do all the time!"
The Hill Bluffer snorted.
Sweet Thing snorted.
"Wait " said Bill hastily, before the situation could degenerate into a
private argument between the two Dilbians. "What I want to know is, why is
Dirty Teeth being held by Bone Breaker, in the first place?"
"Why, becauseShe's the champion of us women!" said Sweet Thing swiftly. "It
comes from listening to Fatties, that's what it does! Bone Breaker wants to
force me to go live in that robber's roost of his. Well I won't do it! You can
tell him so. Not if he should chop Dirty Teeth up for fish bait. I've got my
principles!"
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