d technicians Trigger had
run into as yet.

The brandy which followed the dinner seemed to represent no let-down to
the connoisseurs around Trigger. She went at it cautiously, though she
had swallowed a couple of wake-up capsules just before they walked into
the Ermetyne suite. The capsules took effect in the middle of the first
course; and what she woke up to was a disconcerting awareness of being
the center of much careful attention. The boys were all giving
her-plus-Beldon the eye, intensively; even Lyad's giant-sized butler or
majordomo or whatever she'd called him, named Virod, ogled coldly out of
the background. Trigger gave them the eye back, one after the other, in
turn; and that stopped it. Lyad, beautifully wearing something which
would have passed muster at the U-League's Annual Presidential Dinner in
Ceyce, looked amused.

It wasn't till the end of the second course that Trigger began to feel
at ease again. After that she forgot, more or less, about the Beldon.
The talk remained light during dinner. When they switched off the
illusion background for a look at the goings-on during the Garth
stopover, she took the occasion to study her companions in more detail.

There were three men at the table; Lyad and herself. Quillan sat
opposite her. Belchik Pluly's unseemly person, in a black silk robe
which left his plump arms bare from the elbows down, was on Quillan's
right.

The third man fascinated her. It was as if some strange cold creature
had walked up out of a polar sea to come on board their ship.

It wasn't so much his appearance, though the green tip of a Vethi sponge
lying coiled lightly about his neck probably had something to do with
the impression. Trigger knew about Vethi sponges and their addicts,
though she hadn't seen either before. It wasn't so serious an addiction,
except perhaps in the fact that it was rarely given up again. The
sponges soothed jangled nerves, stabilized unstable emotions.

Balmordan didn't look like a man who needed one. He was big, not as tall
as Quillan but probably heavier, with strong features, a boldly jutting
nose. Bleak, pale eyes. He was about fifty and wore a richly ornamented
blue shirt and trousers. The shirt hung loose, perhaps to conceal the
flattened contours of his odd companion's body. Lyad had introduced him
as a Devagas scientist and in a manner which indicated he was a man of
considerable importance. That meant he was almost certainly a member of
the D