Oomphel in the Sky | Page 9

in the
city. Even the most guarded hints of what he had in mind were enough
to get this last co-operation; he had been running a news-service in
Bluelake long enough to have the confidence of the business people.
He tried, as far as possible, to keep any intimation of what was going

on from Government House. That, unfortunately, hadn't been far
enough. He found that out when General Maith was on his screen, in
the middle of the work on the fourth and fifth floors of the Suzikami
Building.
"The governor general just screened me," Maith said. "He's in a tizzy
about our shoonoon. Claims that keeping them in the Suzikami
Building will endanger the whole Terran city."
"Is that the best he can do? Well, that's rubbish, and he knows it. There
are less than two hundred of them, I have them on the fifth floor,
twenty stories above the ground, and the floor's completely sealed off
from the floor below. They can't get out, and I have tanks of sleep-gas
all over the place which can be opened either individually or all
together from a switch on the fourth floor, where your sepoys are
quartered."
"I know, Mr. Gilbert; I screen-viewed the whole installation. I've seen
regular maximum-security prisons that would be easier to get out of."
"Governor general Kovac is not objecting personally. He has been
pressured into it by this Native Welfare
government-within-the-Government. They don't know what I'm doing
with those shoonoon, but whatever it is, they're afraid of it."
"Well, for the present," Maith said, "I think I'm holding them off. The
Civil Government doesn't want the responsibility of keeping them in
custody, I refused to assume responsibility for them if they were kept
anywhere else, and Kovac simply won't consider releasing them, so that
leaves things as they are. I did have to make one compromise, though."
That didn't sound good. It sounded less so when Maith continued:
"They insisted on having one of their people at the Suzikami Building
as an observer. I had to grant that."
"That's going to mean trouble."
"Oh, I shouldn't think so. This observer will observe, and nothing else.
She will take no part in anything you're doing, will voice no objections,

and will not interrupt anything you are saying to the shoonoon. I was
quite firm on that, and the governor general agreed completely."
"She?"
"Yes. A Miss Edith Shaw; do you know anything about her?"
"I've met her a few times; cocktail parties and so on." She was young
enough, and new enough to Kwannon, not to have a completely
indurated mind. On the other hand, she was EETA which was bad, and
had a master's in sociography from Adelaide, which was worse. "When
can I look for her?"
"Well, the governor general's going to screen me and find out when
you'll have the shoonoon on hand."
Doesn't want to talk to me at all, Miles thought. Afraid he might say
something and get quoted.
"For your information, they'll be here inside an hour. They will have to
eat, and they're all tired and sleepy. I should say 'bout oh-eight-hundred.
Oh, and will you tell the governor general to tell Miss Shaw to bring an
overnight kit with her. She's going to need it."
He was up at 0400, just a little after Beta-rise. He might be a civilian
big-wheel in an Army psychological warfare project, but he still had
four newscasts a day to produce. He spent a couple of hours checking
the 0600 'cast and briefing Harry Walsh for the indeterminate period in
which he would be acting chief editor and producer. At 0700, Foxx
Travis put in an appearance. They went down to the fourth floor, to the
little room they had fitted out as command-post, control room and
office for Operation Shoonoo.
There was a rectangular black traveling-case, initialed E. S., beside the
open office door. Travis nodded at it, and they grinned at one another;
she'd come early, possibly hoping to catch them hiding something they
didn't want her to see. Entering the office quietly, they found her seated
facing the big viewscreen, smoking and watching a couple of enlisted

men of the First Kwannon Native Infantry at work in another room
where the pickup was. There were close to a dozen lipstick-tinted
cigarette butts in the ashtray beside her. Her private face wasn't
particularly happy. Maybe she was being earnest and concerned about
the betterment of the underpriviledged, or the satanic maneuvers of the
selfish planters.
Then she realized that somebody had entered; with a slight start, she
turned, then rose. She was about the height of Foxx Travis, a few
inches shorter than Miles, and slender. Light blond; green suit costume.
She ditched her private face and got on her public