3
She switched off the ComWeb and stood up. Rak and his group were stuckwith the Plasmoid Project a lot more solidly than she was. They'd beenestablished here, confined to their own wing of the Project area, whenshe came in from Manon with the Commissioner. Until the present securityrulings were relaxed--which might not be for another two years--theywould remain on the project.
Trigger felt a little sorry for them, though the Junior Scientistsdidn't seem to mind the setup. Dedication stood out all over them. Sinceabout half were young women, one could assume that at any rate theyweren't condemned to a completely monastic existence.
A couple of workmen were guiding a dozen big cleaning robots around thePlasmoid Exhibition Hall, which wouldn't be open to students orvisitors for another few hours. Trigger strolled across the floor of thehuge area toward a couple of exhibits that hadn't been there the lasttime she'd come through. Life-sized replicas of two O.G.Plasmoids--Numbers 1432 and 1433--she discovered. She regarded thewaxy-looking, lumpish, partially translucent forms with some distaste.She'd been all over the Old Galactic Station itself, and might havestood close enough to the originals of these models to touch them. Notthat she would have.
She glanced at her watch, walked around a scale model of Harvest Moon,the O.G. station, which occupied the center of the Hall, and went onamong the exhibits. There were views taken on Manon Planet in onealcove, mainly of Manon's aerial plankton belt and of the giantplasmoids called Harvesters which had moved about the belt, methodicallyengulfing its clouds of living matter. A whale-sized replica of aHarvester dominated one end of the Hall, a giant dark-green sausage inexternal appearance, though with some extremely fancy internalarrangements.
"Miss Farn...."
She turned. A League cop, standing at the entrance of a hallway thirtyfeet away, pitched her the old flourish and followed it up with a bow.Excellent manners these guard boys had!
Trigger gave him a smile.
"Coming," she said.
Junior Scientist Rak and his advisory committee--two other young men anda young woman--were waiting in the conference room for her. They allstood up when she came in. This room marked the border of theirterritory; they would have violated several League rules by venturingout into the hall through which Trigger had entered.
And that would have been unthinkable.
Rak did the talking, as on the previous occasions when Trigger had metwith this group. The advisory committee simply sat there and watchedhim. As far as Trigger could figure it, they were present at thesesessions only to check Rak if it looked as if he were about to commitsome ghastly indiscretion.
"We were wondering, Miss Farn," Rak said questioningly, "whether youhave the authority to requisition additional University League guardsfor the Plasmoid Project?"
Trigger shook her head. "I've got no authority of any kind that I knowof, as far as the League is concerned. No doubt Professor Mantelishcould arrange it for you."
Rak nodded. "Is it possible for you to contact Professor Mantelish?"
"No," Trigger said. She smiled. "Is it possible for you to contact him?"
Rak glanced around his committee as if looking for approval, then said,"No, it isn't. As a matter of fact, Miss Farn, we've been isolated herein the most curious fashion for the past few weeks."
"So have I," said Miss Farn.
Rak looked startled. "Oh!" he said. "We were hoping you would be willingto give us a little information."
"I would," Trigger assured him, "if I had any to give. I don't,unfortunately." She considered. "Why do you feel additional Leagueguards are required?"
"We heard," Rak remarked cautiously, "that there were raiders in theColonial School area yesterday."
"Grabbers," Trigger said. "They wouldn't bother you. Your section of theproject is supposed to be raidproof anyway."
Rak glanced at his companions again and apparently received someundetectable sign of consent. "Miss Farn, as you know, our group hasbeen entrusted with the care of two League plasmoids here. Are you awarethat six of the plasmoids which were distributed to responsiblelaboratories throughout the Hub have been lost to unknown raiders?"
She was startled. "No, I didn't know that. I heard there'd been someunsuccessful attempts to steal distributed plasmoids."
"These six attempts," Rak said primly, "were completely successful. Onemust assume that the victimized laboratories also had been regarded asraidproof."
Trigger admitted it was a reasonable assumption.
"There is another matter," Rak went on. "When we arrived here, weunderstood Doctor Gess Fayle was to bring Plasmoid Unit 112-113 to thisproject. It seems possible that Doctor Fayle's failure to appearindicates that League Headquarters does not consider the project asufficiently safe place for 112-113."
"Why don't you ask Headquarters?" Trigger suggested.
They stirred nervously.
"That would be a violation of the Principle of the Chain of Command,Miss Farn!" Rak explained.
"Oh," she said. The Juniors were overdisciplined, all right. "Is that112-113 such a particularly important item?"
"If Doctor Fayle is in personal charge of it," Rak said carefully, "Iwould say yes."
Recalling her meetings with Doctor Gess Fayle in the Manon System,Trigger silently agreed. He was one of the U-League's big shots, apolitical scientist who had got himself appointed as Mantelish's chiefassistant when that eminent biologist was first sent to Manon to takeover League operations there. Trigger had disliked Fayle on sight, andhadn't changed her mind on closer acquaintance.
"I remember that 112-113 unit now," she said suddenly. "Big, uglything--well, that describes a lot of them, doesn't it?"
Rak and the others looked quietly affronted. In a moment, Triggerrealized, one of them was going to go into a lecture on functionalesthetics unless she could head them off--and she'd already heard quiteenough about functional esthetics in connection with the plasmoids.
"Now, 113," she hurried on, "is a very small plasmoid"--she held herhands fifteen inches or so apart--"like that; and it's attached to thebig one. Correct?"
Rak nodded, a little stiffly. "Essentially correct, Miss Farn."
"Well," Trigger said, "I can't blame you for worrying a bit. How aboutyour Guard Captain? Isn't it all right to ask him about reinforcements?"
Rak pursed his lips. "Yes. And I did. This morning. Before I calledyou."
"What did he say?"
Rak grimaced unhappily. "He implied, Miss Farn, that his present guardcomplement could handle any emergency. How would he know?"
"That's his job," Trigger pointed out gently. The Juniors did look badlyworried. "He didn't have any helpful ideas?"
"None," said Rak. "He said that if someone wanted to put up the money tohire a battle squad of Special Federation Police, he could always findsome use for them. But that's hopeless, of course."
Trigger straightened up. She reached out and poked Rak's bony chest witha finger tip. "You know something?" she said. "It's not!"
The four faces lit up together.
"The fact is," Trigger went on, "that I'm handling the Project budgetuntil someone shows up to take over. So I think I'll just buy you thatFederation battle squad, Rak! I'll get on it right away." She stood up.The Juniors bounced automatically out of their chairs. "You go tell yourguard Captain," she instructed them from the hall door, "there'll be asquad showing up in time for dinner tonight."
* * * * *
The Federation Police Office in Ceyce informed Trigger that a Class ABattle Squad--twenty trained men with full equipment--would report fortwo months' duty at the Colonial School during the afternoon. She madethem out a check and gave it the Ruya Farn signature via telewriter. Thefigure on that check was going to cause some U-League auditor's eyebrowsto fly off the top of his head one of these days; but if the Leagueinsisted on remaining aloof to the problems of its Plasmoid Project, alittle financial anguish was the least it could expect in return.
Trigger felt
quite cheerful for a while.
Then she had a call from Precol's Maccadon office. She was requested tostand by while a personal interstellar transmission was switched to herComWeb.
It looked like her day! She hummed softly, waiting. She knew just oneindividual affluent enough to be able to afford personal interstellarconversations; and that was Commissioner Tate. Fast work, Plemp, shethought approvingly.
But it was Brule Inger's face that flashed into view on the ComWeb.Trigger's heart jumped. Her breath caught in her throat.
"Brule!" she yelled then. She shot up out of her chair. "Where are youcalling from?"
Brule's eyes crinkled around the edges. He gave her the smile. The goodold smile. "Unfortunately, darling, I'm still in the Manon System." Heblinked. "What happened to your hair?"
"Manon!" said Trigger. She started to settle back, weak withdisappointment. Then she shot up again. "Brule! Lunatic! You're blowinga month's salary a minute on this! I love you! Switch off, fast!"
Brule threw back his head and laughed. "You haven't changed much in twomonths, anyway! Don't worry. It's for free. I'm calling from the yachtof a friend."
"Some friend!" Trigger said, startled.
"It isn't costing her anything either. She had to transmit to the Hubtoday anyway. Asked me if I'd like to take over the last few minutes ofcontact and see if I could locate you.... Been missing me properly,Trigger?"
Trigger smiled. "Very properly. Well, that was lovely of her! Someone Iknow?"
"Hardly," said Brule. "Nelauk arrived a week or so after you left.Nelauk Pluly. Her father's the Pluly Lines. Let's talk about you. What'sthe silver-haired idea?"
"Got talked into it," she told him. "It's all the rage again right now."He surveyed her critically. "I like you better as a redhead."
"So do I." Oops, Trigger thought. Security, girl! "So I'll change backtonight," she went on quickly. "Golly, Brule. It's nice to see thathomely old mug again!"
"Be a lot nicer when it won't have to be over a transmitter."
"Right you are!"
"When are you coming back?"
She shook her head glumly. "Don't know."
He was silent a moment. "I've had to take a bit of chitchat now andthen," he remarked, "about you and old Tate vanishing together."
Trigger felt herself coloring. "So don't take it," she said shortly."Just pop them one!"
The smile returned. "Wouldn't be gentlemanly to pop a lady, would it?"
She smiled back. "So stay away from the ladies!" Somehow Brule andHolati Tate never had worked up a really warm regard for each other. Ithad caused a little trouble before.
"Okay to tell me where you are?" he asked.
"Afraid not, Brule."
"Precol Home Office apparently knows," he pointed out.
"Apparently," Trigger admitted.
They looked at each other a moment; then Brule grinned. "Well, keep yourlittle secret!" he said. "All I really want to know is when you'regetting back."
"Very soon, I hope, Brule," Trigger said unhappily. Then there was asudden burst of sound from the ComWeb--gusts of laughing, chatteringvoices; a faint wash of music. Brule glanced aside.
"Party going on," he explained. "And here comes Nelauk! She wanted tosay hello to you."
A dozen feet behind him, a figure strolled gracefully into view on thescreen and came forward. A slender girl with high-piled violet hair andeyes that very nearly matched the hair's tint. She was dressed insomething resembling a dozen blossoms--blossoms which, in Trigger'sopinion, had been rather carelessly scattered. But presumably it was avery elegant party costume. She was quite young, certainly not yettwenty.
Brule laid a brotherly hand on a powdered shoulder. "Meet Trigger,Nelauk!"
Nelauk murmured it was indeed an honor, one she had long looked forwardto. The violet eyes blinked sleepily at Trigger.
Trigger gave her a great big smile. "Thanks so much for arranging forthe call. I've been wondering how Brule was doing."
Wrong thing to say, probably, she thought. She was right. Nelauk reachedfor it with no effort.
"Oh, he's doing wonderfully!" she assured Trigger without expression."I'm keeping an eye on him. And this small favor--it was the very leastI could do for Brule. For you, too, of course, Trigger dear."
Trigger held the smile firmly.
"Thanks so much, again!" she said.
Nelauk nodded, smiled back and drifted gracefully off the screen. Bruleblew Trigger a kiss. "They'll be cutting contact now. See you very, verysoon, Trigger, I hope."
His image vanished before she could answer.
She paced her office, muttering softly. She went over to the ComWebonce, reached out toward it and drew her hand back again.
Better think this over.
It might not be an emergency. Brule didn't exactly chase women. He letthem chase him now and then. Long before she left Manon, Trigger haddiscovered without much surprise, that the wives, daughters and girlfriends of visiting Hub tycoons were as susceptible to the Inger charmas any Precol clerks. The main difference was that they were a lot moredirect about showing it.
It hadn't really worried her. In fact, she found Brule's slightlystartled reports of maneuverings of various amorous Hub ladies veryentertaining. But she had put in a little worrying about something else.Brule's susceptibility seemed to be more to the overwhelming massdisplay of wealth with which he was suddenly in almost constant contact.Many of the yachts he went flitting around among as Precol'srepresentative were elaborate spacegoing palaces, and it appeared BruleInger was soon regarded as a highly welcome guest on most of them.
Brule talked about that a little too much.
Trigger resumed her pacing.
Little Nelauk mightn't be twenty yet, but she'd flipped out a challengejust now with all the languid confidence of a veteran campaigner. Which,Trigger thought cattily, little Nelauk undoubtedly was.
And a girl, she added cattily, whose father represented the Pluly Linesdid have some slight reason for confidence....
"Miaow!" she reproved herself. Nelauk, to be honest about it, was also adish.
But if she happened to be serious about Brule, the dish Brule might betempted by was said Pluly Lines.
Trigger went over to the window and looked down at the exercisequadrangle forty floors below.
"If he's that much of a meathead!" she thought.
He could be that much of a meathead. He was also Brule. She went back toher desk and sat down. She looked at the ComWeb. A girl had a right toconsider her own interests.
And there was the completely gruesome possibility now that Holati Tatemight call in at any moment, give her an entirely reasonable,satisfactory, valid, convincing explanation for everything that hadhappened lately--and then show her why it would be absolutely necessaryfor her to stay here a while longer.
If it was a choice between inconveniencing Holati Tate and losing thatmeathead Brule--
Trigger switched on the ComWeb.