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"Do you remember the time you passed out on the Harvest Moon?" he asked. Trigger looked at him, puzzled. "The time I what?" "Passed out. Fainted. Went out cold." "I? You're out of your mind, Holati! I never fainted in my life." "Reason I asked," he said, "is that I've been told a spell in a rest cubicle same thing as a rest cubicle anyway, only it's used for therapy sometimes resolves amnesias."
If it was a choice between inconveniencing Holati Tate and losing that meathead Brule Trigger switched on the ComWeb. The head of the personnel department of Precol's Maccadon office said, "You don't want me, Argee. That's not my jurisdiction. I'll connect you with Undersecretary Rozan." Trigger blinked. "Under " she began. But he'd already cut off.
"Well, that explains it." Trigger looked down at the desk a moment, then glanced up and met the Commissioner's eye. She colored slightly. "Incidentally," she said, "I did take the opportunity to apologize to Major Quillan for clipping him a couple this morning. I shouldn't have done that." "He didn't seem offended," said Holati. "No, not really," she agreed.
"I'd get too technical," he said resignedly. "I always do. At least they say so. You tell her." But Holati Tate's eyes had shifted suddenly to the table. "Hey, now!" he said in a low voice. Trigger followed his gaze. After a moment she made a soft, sucking sound of alarmed distaste. "Ugh!" she remarked. "It's moving!" "So it is," Holati said. "Towards me!" said Trigger. "I think "
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