Tomar personally sent the directive through Communications Center 27B, marked urgent and emergency. Ten minutes later he received a visiphone call from the Communications Engineer saying that 27B had been hopelessly snarled all morning. In fact so had 26B, 25B. In further fact, said the engineer, the only available sectors open were 34A and 42A, none of which, incidentally, had access to complete city lines. Tomar made a triplicate copy of the warning and sent it out, nonetheless, through Sectors 40A, 41A, and 42A. A half an hour later the secretary to the Communications Engineer called and said, "Major Tomar, I'm sorry, I just got back from my break and I didn't see your message until just now. Because of the tie-ups, we've received instructions only to let authorized persons have access to the available sectors." "Well, who the hell is authorized," Tomar bellowed. "If you don't put that through and quick, half the city may be dead by this evening." The secretary paused a minute. Then he said, "I'm sorry, sir, but ... well, look. I'll give it directly to the Communications Engineer when he gets back." "When is he getting back?" Tomar demanded. "I ... I don't know." "Who is authorized?" "Only generals, sir, and only those directly concerned with the war effort." "I see," Tomar said, and hung up. He had just dispatched seven copies of the announcement with an explanatory note to seven of the fourteen generals in the ministry when the Communications Engineer called again. "Major, what's all this about a bushel of fish?" "Look, there are seven tons of the stuff all over the streets." "And poisoned?" "Exactly. Will you please see that this message gets out over every available piece of city-wide communication as fast as possible? This is really life and death." "We're just allowed to work on getting war messages through. But I guess this takes priority. Oh, that explains some of the messages we've been getting. I believe there's even one for you." "Well?" asked Tomar after a pause. "I'm not allowed to deliver it, sir." "Why not?" "You're not authorized, sir." "Look, damn it, get it right now and read it to me." "Well ... er ... it's right here sir. It's from the chief of the City Dispersal Squad." The message was, in brief, that twenty-three men, among them Captain Clemen, had been trampled to death by an estimated two and a half thousand hungry residents of the Devil's Pot, most of them immigrants from the mainland. A ton and a half of fish was finally removed from the streets and disposed of. But five and a half tons had made its way through the city. The Communications Engineer also added that while they'd been talking, a memorandum had come through that Sectors 34A to 42A were now out of commission, but that the major should try 27B again, because it might have cleared up. * * * * *