ive her a little rope, I think."

"How close is Luscious to that area she showed?"

Quillan flicked on their course screen and superimposed the map Lyad had
marked. "Red dot's well inside," he pointed out. "That bit was probably
quite solid info." He looked up at her. "Did it bother you much to hear
the Devagas have dropped the grab idea and are out to do you in?"

Trigger shook her head. "Not really," she said. "Wouldn't make much
difference one way or the other, would it?"

"Very little." He patted her hand. "Well, they're not going to get you,
doll--one way _or_ the other!"

Trigger smiled. "I believe you," she said. "Thanks." She looked back
into the lounge again. Just at present she did have a feeling of
relaxed, unconcerned security. It probably wasn't going to last, though.
She glanced at Quillan.

"Those computers of yours," she said. "What did they have to say about
that not-catassin you squashed?"

"The crazy things claim now it was a plasmoid," Quillan said, "Revolting
notion! But it makes some sense for once. Checks with some of the things
Lyad just told us, too. Do you remember that Vethi sponge Balmordan was
carrying?"

"Yes."

"It didn't come off the ship with him. He checked it out as having died
en route."

"That is a revolting notion!" Trigger said after a moment. "Well, at
least we've got detectors now."

But the feeling of security had faded somewhat again.

Before dinner was half over, the long-range transmitters abruptly came
to life. For the next thirty minutes or so, messages rattled in
incessantly, as assorted Headquarters here and there reacted to the
Ermetyne's report. The Commissioner sat in the little office and sorted
over the incoming information. Trigger stayed at the transmitters,
feeding it to him as it arrived. None of it affected them directly--they
were already headed for the point in space a great many other people
would now start heading for very soon.

Then business dropped off again almost as suddenly as it had picked up.
A half dozen low priority items straggled in, in as many minutes. The
transmitters purred idly. Then the person-to-person buzzer sounded.

Trigger punched the screen button. A voice pronounced the ship's dial
number.

"Acknowledging," Trigger said. "Who is it?"

"Orado ComWeb Center," said the voice. "Stand by for contact with
Federation Councilman Roadgear."

Trigger whacked the panic button. Roadgear was a NAME! "Standing by,"
she said.