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Done at camp, at Payne's Landing, on the Ocklawaha River, in the territory of Florida, on this ninth day of May, one thousand eight hundred and thirty-two, and of the independence of the United States of America, the fifty-sixth. L.S. Holati Emathlar, his X mark. Jumper, his X mark. Cudjo, Interpreter, his X mark. Erastus Rodgers. B. Joscan. Holati Emathlar, his X mark. Jumper, his X mark.
Trigger had been waiting for a chance to get into the conversation. "Just who," she demanded now, frowning, "is a bit ta-ta at the moment?" "You," said Quillan. "You're doped, remember? You'll ride up front with the Commissioner. Here." He picked her up, plasmoid purse and all, and set her down on the front seat. Holati Tate, she discovered then, was already inside.
After a few minutes, Mantelish came puffing in with sprayers and cans of solvent. "It's at least fortunate you tried to put out a call just now," he said. "It might have done incalculable damage." "Doubt it," said Holati. "A few more instruments might have gone. Like the communicators. The main equipment is fungus-proof. How do you attach this thing?" Mantelish showed him.
"Sit down," he said. "I've been trying to get hold of Mantelish for the past hour. He's over on the other side of the planet again." Trigger sat down and lifted an eyebrow. "Should he be?" "I don't think so," said Holati. "But I've been overruled on that.
Her other hand darted to the ComWeb. Then she checked herself. To fire an as-of-now resignation back at Precol had been the immediate impulse. But something, some vague warning chill, was saying it might be a very poor impulse to follow. She sat back to think it over. It was very probable that Undersecretary Rozan disliked Holati Tate intensely.
"I thought you did," said Trigger. "Thanks for the quick cure. But right at the moment I don't like you very much, Holati. We can talk about that in the morning." "All right," said the Commissioner. He hesitated. "Anything that should be taken care of before then?" "It's been taken care of," Trigger said. "One of our employees has been moderately injured. I dialed the medics to go pick him up.
"I've heard," she said, "the eggheads have terrific pull when they want to use it. You don't hear much about them otherwise. Let me think just a little." "Go ahead," said Holati. A minute ticked away. "What it boils down to so far," Trigger said then, "is still pretty much what you told me on Maccadon. The Psychology Service thinks I know something that might help clean up the plasmoid problem.
"A week might be soon enough," said the Commissioner. "It also might not." "I know it," said Quillan. "But the Aurora does look a little bit obvious, doesn't she?" "Yes," Holati Tate admitted. "Just a little bit." By lunchtime, Trigger was acting almost cordial again. "I've got the Precol job lined up," she reported to Holati Tate. "I'll handle it like I used to, whenever I can.
"That plasmoid 112 it has, of course, an almost inestimable potential value to civilization." "Of course," the Commissioner agreed. "But it also," said Mantelish, "represents a quite intolerable threat to civilization." "Mantelish!" cried the Commissioner. "It does. You don't comprehend these matters as I do. Holati, that plasmoid must be destroyed! Secretly, if possible. And by us!"
Then he calmed down and agreed he could get by without Repulsive out there. So we stood by while he measured and weighed the thing, and so on. After that he got friendly and said you'd asked him to fill me in on current plasmoid theory." "So I did," said Holati. "Did he?" "He tried, I think. But it's like you say. I got lost in about three sentences and never caught up."
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