Three. Go for broke. If they got ap Fenn, there'd be confusion like all hell wouldn't have. Plan on it, use it.

Have part of the troops ready 'to infiltrate the port, and when the balloon went up, the rest to join them, and take one of ap Fenn's own ships. The Big Hundred itself, maybe, with whatever aura of authority it might still carry, on its own. There was no inhibitor in that one yet, and they could refuel at the aux port. And then-

Three-A. Go to Sisshain? Dump the problem on Tarle- ton? Not really. Tarleton didn't need that kind of mess, on top of his own job. Having to choose between friend and official duty. No.

Three-B. Go to Earth. Lay the whole thing on the line, start to finish. Barton shook his head. He didn't trust politicians that much; somebody had put ap Fenn in charge. The somebody wasn't about to like being told how big a mistake that had been.

Three-C. Go to Chaleen, or some place like it. But he'd already been through that one.

Four. And there wasn't any. Barton shook his head

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and put his mind on hold. Because it wasn't communi- cating very well.

Briefly he tried a Four that had him calling from the control room of the Big Hundred and assuming the ad- miralty in his own right. Then again he shook his head.

This wasn't a Tri-V show.

And then came a thought that stopped Barton in his tracks. Nothing to do with the problem he'd been chew- ing on. Just a complete change of plans, was all.'

He'd worked up a good enough sweat for now, any- way, so Barton went indoors and sluiced it off with a spray-bath. Then he looked for Limila, and found her lying down but not asleep. "Does your body continue to improve, Barton?"

"So-so. I think I've pretty well leveled off. Just a mat- ter of staying in shape, from now on." He sat down on the bed beside her. "Limila, why didn't you tell me that ap Fenn's after my head now?"

Her eyes widened. "But I did; don't you remember?

At the medical place. And then you had forgotten, so I told you again."

After a moment, be got it. "I had lucid spells earlier, and you thought I was registering?" Hesitantly, she nodded. "Well, I forgot the second time, too." She started to speak, but he put a finger to her Ups. "It doesn't matter; no harm done. Anyway, I've had a new idea," He told her, and at first she was dubious, pointing out dangers, but finally she agreed.

"If you can do this. Barton, it will be much better."

**Yeh; I think so, too. It was only that when we heard about the slaughter, of Lombard and Chin and the rest, I couldn't think of anything but the one way to do some- thing about it"

She stroked his body, still damp from bathing. "Then it is .a good thing that there was no way for you to act immediately."

A shudder of relief took him; he hadn't realized the strain until he came free of it. Then he bad a different reaction. "Limila? Would you like-?" It bad beenfluite a while, now. ^

She smiled. "If we are careful; yes." So, quite gently, spoon-fashion to avoid pressure on her, they made love.

Myra and Cheng were off somewhere together Barton 396.

learned, exploring the hills that edged this side of thi settlement. Tevann had driven Abdul to the aux port apparently the home computer-terminal wasn't pro'

grammed for something he was trying to calculate, so he hoped to visit Gerain and livajj and use the facilities oc their ship. Barton got these data from Ariie Fox, through a closed door behind which she and Uelein were closeted, Well, all right. I'll tell 'em later.

As it happened, the whole group was never together all at once until the afternoon that Vertan showed up.

So, since Barton didn't feel iike repeating himself, until that meeting he sat on his idea and hoped it would hatch something.

Vertan looked tired, and his expression was anxious, as Barton and Dupree did most of the talking about the proposed festival, and Barton kept waiting for a handle for introducing his revised plans. The "beauty contest"

part baffled Vertan. For one thing, the Tilaran said, it was inconceivable to humiliate a group of persons of either sex by a public verdict that one of them was the most attractive. And for another, even if normal courtesy were to be sacrificed at this crisis point, how could ap Fenn or anyone else evaluate a woman's attractiveness without having sex with her? Which, assuming a reason- ably sized slate of candidates, who would require con- siderable persuasion to 'participate in such a grotesque ritual even though it was only a farce for show, would entail several days of scheduling. And-

"Hold it!" Barton shook his head. "Your logic makes my head swim-and I agree with it, now that you point these things out. But ap Fenn's used to beauty pageants on a look-don't-touch basis, so we Just add a hint that Tilaran custom gives the judge some privileges with the winner he chooses, and-" Vertan tried to protest, but Barton kept talking. "Of course it won't happen. It's all a fake, remember? To get ap Fenn out in the open."

"To kill him, yes." Vertan nodded. "Very well; pro- ceed."

"Kill him?" Barton pretended surprise. "I don't have the faintest intention of killing Karsen ap Fenn."

He knew there'd be a hubbub then, and in point of fact be rather enjoyed it. When eventually he got the floor back, he said, "All right, so I should have told you

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sooner. But everybody was ramping around here and there, so I thought I'd wait and spring it in full council."

"I am a patient man," said Abdul Muhammed,

-but-"

"All right," Barton said. "This idea hit me out of the blue, the other day. We can destroy the son-of-a-bitch, as he is now, without killing him. By the amnesia effect of the Demu sleep-gun. I don't know bow much expo- sure it takes, but-"

Then the yelling caught up to him, and it felt as though Abdul Muhammed would pound his back right out through his front. Cheng was shaking him by the shoulder, and Myra's kiss tasted of tears. "Barton, you're beautiful!" '

He grinned. "I've never denied it."

Now they got down to cases. Vertan said he'd need two weeks to set up the festival. Barton had to ask how many days that was, because the TUaran week was not of fixed length. Sixteen, it came out. Okay, then-the fun and games would take place in the area just off the main spaceport, and a temporary pavilion to handle the size of crowd they wanted could go up in plenty of time. So far, so good.

All right; that's where they wanted ap Fenn. Now, how about the bait to get him there? Honor? Glory?

Power? It had to be believable. "Don't forget loot," said Barton, and in that comment they found the answer. Ap Fenn had choked off Tilara's interstellar trade; he al- lowed ships to land, but not to lift off again, "So we name him Chief Customs Officer or Lord Protector of the Port, or something, and give him a cut of the customs

duties."

Then he had to explain to Vertan, for Tilara had no such things. "So we offer him a cut of the customs duties you don't have," Barton said. "There's a technical name for it. Bribery." And even if they didn't get ap Fenn, as planned, the gimmick would allow trade to move again.

Now it came down to who was supposed to do, what to whom, and where. Barton still liked the idea of trying to take one of ap Fenn's ships-the Big HundrpC by preference-and logically that job went to people who couldnt' fake it well as Tflarans. "So, Vertan-can some- body filch us uniforms from this fleet, to fit Cheng and Abdul?" Dupree still had his. Barton knew. 'Vertan

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said it would be easier to have Dupree's copied, and that made sense, because something in Abdul's size would be hard to find.

The remaining crux, of course, was getting to ap Fenn, and nobody could think of any better bet than the "beauty contest." "The main thing there," said Barton, "is that we set up our own rules and format- For instance-"

It was Strike Force country again, and that was Bar- ton's territory. Myra and Arlie Fox and himself were all the primary troops he had. "And I," Limila insisted; he couldn't budge her.

"All right." He made a nod to her. "And here's how we use us. All robed-up ceremonially, as chaperones for a group of contestants. I don't know bow Tilaran we'll look, but we can try."

Following the group into the newly erected pavilion, Barton thought that Arleta Fox looked like no Tilaran he'd ever seen. Of course, she didn't look much like her own self, either. Behind the artificial baldness above her forehead, she wore Limila's Tilaran-styled wig. She tee- tered on high-lift shoes of at least two decimeters. Under her robe, false breast-bulges set low and wide in the cor- rect Tilaran location masked any sign of her own smaller mammaries. Myra Hake wore a similar harness, and her sandy hair was dyed black. Limila had a wig in the reddish-brown shade, and makeup altered her complex- ion to match it. Barton didn't want to think what he looked like; he'd never worn drag before in his life.

Vertan had done a good job, he had t< admit, setting up the pavilion-an unroofed auditorium that held, at Barton's quick estimate, about five thousand people. A little over that-"three twelves-third," Vertan had said.

Enough, people to confuse the issue when the crunch came, anyway; that was what mattered. And looking out of the seclusion booth, about halfway back on the left side. Barton saw that Vertan had packed the house, all right

From where Barton stood, the place looked nice. The walls and minor partitions were done in tones ranging from blue-green, to green-yellow-not exactly chartreuse -with random sparkles here and there. The seating looked comfortable and the crowd was quiet All right;

pretty soon the show would get on the road.