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Updated: June 22, 2025
"Their missionaries all go armed, of course; but that's their privilege by treaty. They've been browsing around and going hither and yon in skiffs. The ship's been in orbit till this morning." "Think they're here in connection with whatever Balmordan is up to?" Trigger inquired. "We'll take that for granted. Balmordan, by the way, attended a big shindig on the Pluly yacht yesterday.
That covers it, I think." They looked at each other for a moment. "With the information you got from Balmordan," Trigger remarked, "you should still be able to make a very good dicker with the Council, First Lady. I understand they're very eager to get the plasmoid mess straightened out quietly." Lyad lifted one shoulder in a brief shrug. "Perhaps," she said. "Let's move!" said Trigger.
And it will take a great deal longer." Tanned, tall, sinuous Flam stood in the small room beyond the door. Trigger saw a long, low, plastic-covered table, clamps and glittering gadgetry. That would have been where cold-fish Balmordan hadn't been able to make it against his mind-blocks finally. There was still one thing she could do. The yacht was orbiting.
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