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That was all he was in a position to do, or interested in doing, himself. Security men presently came and took the supposed vestiges of Doctor Azol's body back to the Hub. "It wasn't until some months later, when the works blew up and I was put on this job, that I heard any more about it," Holati Tate said. "It wasn't Azol.
He just about knocked himself out on that big plasmoid." "Who else knows about this?" asked Pilch. "Nobody. I would have told Holati, except he's still mad enough about having been put into a coma, he might go out and chop the sequoia down." "Well, it won't go into the report then," Pilch said. "They'd just want to bother Repulsive!" "I knew it would be all right to tell you.
Mantelish had pulled his chair up to the table; he hitched himself forward in it. "We shall now," he announced, "try a little experiment. Pick it up, Trigger." She stared at him. "Pick it up! No, Mantelish. We shall now try some other little experiment." Mantelish furrowed his Jovian brows. Holati gave her a small smile across the table. "Just touch it with the tip of a finger," he suggested.
Looking for Gess Fayle and the key unit?" Holati Tate said, "That's about it. We're one of a few thousand Federation groups assigned to the same general job. Each group works at its specialties, and the information gets correlated." He paused. "The Federation Council they're the ones we're working for directly the Council's biggest concern is the very delicate political situation that's involved.
"Fayle's ship might have got wrecked accidentally, of course. But the way he took off shows he planned to disappear a crack-up on top of that would be too much of a coincidence. So any one of umpteen thousands of organizations in the Hub might be the one that has that plasmoid now!" "Including," said Holati, "any one of the two hundred and fourteen restricted worlds.
They know less than nothing and would be too scared to tell me that if I asked them." Plemponi looked confused for a moment. "The last sentence " He checked himself. "Well, let's not quibble. Go on." Trigger said, "That's it. Holati didn't need me on this job to begin with. There's nothing involved about the organizational aspects.
There had been, Trigger recalled, a trifle nostalgically, barely eight hundred Precol employees, and not another human being, on that world in the days before Holati Tate announced his discovery. She was just letting the viewer panel slide back into the desk when the office ComWeb gave forth with a musical ping. She switched it on. "Hi, Rak!" she said cheerily. "Anything new?"
"Well," Holati Tate said, "no more than usually." "Yes," said Councilman Roadgear. "Now there's been some slight concern expressed by some members of the Council well, let's say they'd just like to be reassured that the amenities one observes in dealing with a head of state actually are being observed in this case. I'm sure they are, of course." The Commissioner was silent a moment.
We can't risk snooping around the station while she's there and likely to start pounding on our backs any second." Mantelish looked startled. "Holati," he cautioned, "That's a warship!" "Mantelish," the Commissioner said, a trifle coldly, "what you've been riding in isn't a canoe." He glanced at Lyad. "I suppose you'd feel happier if you weren't locked up in your cabin during the ruckus?"
She woke up less than an hour later, feeling very uncomfortable. Repulsive had been talking to her. She sat up and looked around the dark cabin with frightened eyes. After a moment, she got out of the bunk and went up the passage toward the lounge and the control section. Holati Tate was lying slumped back in his chair, eyes closed, breathing slowly and evenly.
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