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Anyway, all this brings up the matter of what we should do with you now." Trigger set her glass down on the table. "Refill?" Quillan inquired. He reached for the iced crystal pitcher between them. "No," she said. "I just want to make a statement." "State away." He refilled his own glass. "For some reason," said Trigger, "I've been acting lately the last two days in a remarkably stupid manner."
Dead, no doubt. He shouldn't have got gay with Quillan. "Yes," Trigger said then, remembering Quillan's question. "I've got a very fast snap-back but they fed me a fresh load of dope just a moment ago." "So I saw," said Quillan. His glance shifted beyond Trigger. "Lyad," he said, almost gently. "Yes, Quillan?" Lyad's voice came from the other side of Trigger. Trigger turned her head toward it.
They had come down the stairway to the storerooms level and were walking along the big lit hallway toward their cabins. Trigger felt pleasantly relaxed. But she did have a great many pertinent questions to ask Quillan now, and she wanted to get started on them. "Oh!" she said suddenly. Just as suddenly, Quillan's hand was on her shoulder, moving her along. "Hush now," he said. "And keep walking."
The war was afterwards reduced to skirmishes of small importance, and was soon terminated by a peace concluded at Negrete, a place situated at the confluence of the Biobio and the Laxa, by which the provisions of the treaty of Quillan were renewed, and the odious title of captains of the friends abolished.
"You don't think she's going to wait now?" "I do not," Mihul said. "She's forwarded him a kind of ultimatum through Plemponi. Communicate-or-else, in effect. Frankly, I wouldn't care to guarantee she'll stay around to hear the answer." "Hm.... What do you expect she'll do?" "Take off," Mihul said. "One way or the other." "Ungh," Quillan said disgustedly.
I've fed it to her as heavy as I could, but there's a limit to what you can do that way. She's kept herself in very good shape." "One of the best, I've been told," said Quillan. "Condition, I meant," said Mihul. "Anyway, she's trained down fine right now. Any more of it would just make her edgier. You know how it goes." "Uh-huh," he said. "Fighter nerves." "Same deal," Mihul agreed.
Quillan looked around the viewer equipment he and Gaya were dismantling. "Why not hit the couch over there and take a nap?" he suggested. "It'll be about an hour before the boys can get down here for the real conference." "Good idea." Trigger yawned, finished her drink, put the glass on a table, and wandered over to the couch. She stretched out on it.
Jump it out and in with a subtub is one they could have done that from their own cabin as soon as they had its pattern. So I don't really think it's dead. It's just " "Quillan," a tiny voice said from the viewer. He turned, took two steps, and sat down fast before the viewer. "Go ahead!" "Fast motion in B section. Going your way." Fast motion. A thought flicked up. "Quillan " Trigger began.
Trigger glanced around the room while Quillan refilled three glasses. The small live coal she had swallowed was melting away; a warm glow began to spread through her. It did look like the dining room of a hunting lodge. The woodwork was dark, old-looking, worn with much polishing. Horned heads of various formidable Maccadon life-forms adorned the walls.
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.
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