"Come on," gasped Catherine. "We've got to get help."
They fled down a tunnel of blackness. The riot noise faded behind, and there was only the hollow slapping of their feet.
Lights burned ahead, Vesey's office. A pair of engineer guards tried to halt them. Gilchrist choked out an explanation.
Vesey emerged and swore luridly, out of hurt and bewilderment at his own people. "And we haven't a tear gas bomb or a needler in the place!" He brooded a moment, then whirled on Jahangir, who had come out behind him. "Get a tank of compressed ammonia gas from the chem section and give 'em a few squirts if they're still kicking up when you arrive. That ought to quiet them without doing any permanent damage."
The chief nodded and bounded off with his subordinates. In this gravity, one man could carry a good-sized tank.
Vesey beat a fist into his palm. There was agony on his face.
Catherine laid a hand on his arm. "You've no choice," she said gently. "Ammonia is rough stuff, but it would be worse if children started getting trampled."