Quillan lifted his eyebrows. "And that hasn't caused any comment? What about the maintenance crews, the warehouse men, the—"
"All the work crews were hauled out of subspace this morning," Reetal said. "On the quiet, the Star's employees have been told that a gang of raiders was spotted in the warehouse area, and is at present cornered there. Naturally, the matter isn't to be mentioned to the guests, to avoid arousing unnecessary concern. And that explains everything very neatly. The absence of the security men, and why subspace is sealed off. Why the Executive Block is under guard, and can't be entered—and why the technical and office personnel in there don't come out, and don't communicate out. They've been put on emergency status, officially."
"Yunk," Quillan said disgustedly after a moment. "This begins to look like a hopeless situation, doll!"
"True."
"Let's see now—"
Reetal interrupted, "There is one portal still open to subspace. That's in the Executive Block, of course, and Heraga reports it's heavily guarded."
"How does he know?"
"The Block's getting its meals from Phalagon House. He floated a diner in there a few hours ago."
"Well," Quillan said, brightening, "perhaps a deft flavoring of poison—"