The clerk smiled pityingly. "It's my lunch hour," he said. "I'll be open in an hour." He held up a thumb nail, frowned at it.
"If I have to come around this counter," Retief said, "I'll feed that thumb to you the hard way."
The clerk looked up and opened his mouth. Then he caught Retief's eye, closed his mouth and swallowed.
"Like it says there," he said, jerking a thumb at the board. "Lifts in an hour. But you won't be on it," he added.
Retief looked at him.
"Some ... ah ... VIP's required accommodation," he said. He hooked a finger inside the sequined collar. "All tourist reservations were canceled. You'll have to try to get space on the Four-Planet Line ship next—"
"Which gate?" Retief said.
"For ... ah...?"
"For the two twenty-eight for Jorgensen's Worlds," Retief said.
"Well," the clerk said. "Gate 19," he added quickly. "But—"