that
handbag. And a few other things."

She might have caught Trigger's expression then. She added drily, "I was
informed a few nights ago that you're quite an artist in
rough-and-tumble tactics. So are Virod and Flam. So if you want to give
Virod an opportunity to amuse himself a little, go right ahead!"

At that point, the graceful thing undoubtedly would have been to just
smile and get up on the table. Trigger discovered she couldn't do it.
She gave them a fast, silent, vicious tussle, mouth clenched, breathing
hard through her nose. It was quite insanely useless. They weren't
letting her get anywhere near Lyad. After Virod had amused himself a
little, he picked her up and plunked her down on the table. A minute
later, she was stretched out on it, face down, wrists and ankles secured
with padded clamps to its surface.

Flam took a small knife and neatly slit the back of the Precol uniform
open along the line of her spine. She folded the cloth away. Then
Trigger felt the thin icy touches of some vanilla-smelling spray walk up
her, ending at the base of her skull.

It wasn't so very painful; Lyad had told the truth about that. But
presently it became extremely undignified. Then her thoughts were
speeding up and slowing down and swirling around in an odd, confusing
fashion. And at last her voice began to say things she didn't want it to
say.

After this, there might have been a pause. She seemed to be floating up
out of a small pool of sleep when Lyad's voice said somewhere, with cold
fury in it: "There's _nothing_ inside?"

A whole little series of memory-pictures popped up suddenly then, like a
chain of firecrackers somebody had set off. They formed themselves into
a pattern; and there the pattern was in Trigger's mind. She looked at
it. Her eyes flew open in surprise. She began to laugh weakly.

Light footsteps came quickly over to her. "Where is that plasmoid,
Trigger?"

The Ermetyne was in a fine, towering rage. She'd better say something.

"Ask the Commissioner," she said, mumbling a little.

"It's wearing off, First Lady," said Flam. "Shall I?"

Trigger's thoughts went eddying away for a moment, and she didn't hear
Lyad's reply. But then the vanilla smell was there again, and the thin
icy touches. This time, they stopped abruptly, halfway.

And then there was a very odd stillness all around Trigger. As if
everybody and everything had stopped moving together.

A deep, savage voice said, "I hope th