"These six attempts," Rak said primly, "were completely successful. One
must assume that the victimized laboratories also had been regarded as
raidproof."

Trigger admitted it was a reasonable assumption.

"There is another matter," Rak went on. "When we arrived here, we
understood Doctor Gess Fayle was to bring Plasmoid Unit 112-113 to this
project. It seems possible that Doctor Fayle's failure to appear
indicates that League Headquarters does not consider the project a
sufficiently 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 that
112-113 such a particularly important item?"

"If Doctor Fayle is in personal charge of it," Rak said carefully, "I
would 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, a
political scientist who had got himself appointed as Mantelish's chief
assistant when that eminent biologist was first sent to Manon to take
over League operations there. Trigger had disliked Fayle on sight, and
hadn't changed her mind on closer acquaintance.

"I remember that 112-113 unit now," she said suddenly. "Big, ugly
thing--well, that describes a lot of them, doesn't it?"

Rak and the others looked quietly affronted. In a moment, Trigger
realized, one of them was going to go into a lecture on functional
esthetics unless she could head them off--and she'd already heard quite
enough about functional esthetics in connection with the plasmoids.

"Now, 113," she hurried on, "is a very small plasmoid"--she held her
hands fifteen inches or so apart--"like that; and it's attached to the
big one. Correct?"

Rak nodded, a little stiffly. "Essentially correct, Miss Farn."

"Well," Trigger said, "I can't blame you for worrying a bit. How about
your Guard Captain? Isn't it all right to ask him about reinforcements?"

Rak pursed his lips. "Yes. And I did. This morning. Before I called
you."

"What did he say?"

Rak grimaced unhappily. "He implied, Miss Farn, that his present guard
complement could handle any emergency. How would he know?"

"That's his job," Trigger pointed out gently. The Juniors did look badly
worried. "He didn't have any helpful ideas?"

"None," said Rak. "He said that if some