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Updated: June 14, 2025
Now, Trigger, the reason we're here is that Mihul told me at our prebreakfast conference you weren't entirely happy at the good old Colonial School. So climb in, if you don't have much else to do, and we'll run up to the office and discuss it." He opened the door for her. "Much else to do!" Trigger gave him a look. "All right, Doctor. We'll run up and discuss it."
"True, Major Quillan, sir," said Mihul. "Now try again." The transmitter was silent a few seconds. "Could you guarantee her for three days?" he asked. "I could not," said Mihul. "I couldn't guarantee her another three hours." "As bad as that?" "Yes," said Mihul. "As bad as that. She was controlling herself with Plemponi. But I've been observing her in the physical workouts.
Mihul frowned at the transmitter. "Trigger always had a temper," she said. "She was always obstinate. She was always an individualist and ready to fight for her own rights and anyone else's. But she used to show good sense. She's got one of the highest I.Q.s we ever processed through this place. The way she's acting now doesn't look too rational." "How would she have acted earlier?" Quillan asked.
She gave Trigger a smile. Trigger looked back at the Commissioner. "I don't get it," she said. "Oh, Mihul's in Scout Intelligence," he said, "wouldn't be here if she weren't." "Been an agent for eighteen years," Mihul said, coming forward. "Hi, Trigger, surprised?" "Yes," Trigger admitted. "Very."
I'm not supposed to admit to anyone that I know anything of the whereabouts of Holati Tate or Professor Mantelish." "Fibber!" Trigger said quietly. "So you know!" Plemponi looked appealingly at Mihul. She was grinning. "My lips are sealed, Trigger! I can't help it. Please believe me." "Let me sum it up then," Trigger said, tapping the arm of her chair with a finger tip.
We're from Slyth-Talgon on Evalee, here for a few days shooting." Trigger nodded. "Do we do any shooting?" Mihul pointed a finger at a side table. The Denton lay there, looking like a toy beside a standard slender-barrelled sporting pistol. "Bet your life, Comteen!" she said. "I've always been too stingy to try out a first-class preserve on my own money. And this one is first class." She paused.
In her bedroom, she opened a wall safe and swung out a high-powered transmitter. She switched the transmitter to active. "Yes?" said a voice. "Mihul here," said Mihul. "Quillan or the Commissioner...." "Quillan here," the transmitter said a few seconds later in a different voice, a deep male one. "Go ahead, doll." Mihul grunted.
Mihul said I'm considered one of the gang in this project. From now on I'll behave like one. And I'll also expect to be treated like one." "Hm," said Quillan. "Well, there is something you can do, all right." "What's that?" "Go on display here, now." "What for?" she asked. "As bait, you sweet ninny! If the boss grabber is on this ship, we should draw a new nibble from him."
That the mother should be afflicted with the same ailment as the daughter was news to them but plausible enough. Within eight minutes, a police ambulance was flying Mihul and Trigger at emergency speeds towards a small Uplands City behind the mountains. Trigger never found out the city's name.
"Choice of three game birds for breakfast." Mihul announced. "Never heard of any of them. All good. Plus regular stuff." She patted her flat midriff. "Ate too much!" she admitted. "Now dig in and I'll brief you." Trigger dug in. "I had a look at myself in the mirror," she remarked. "What's this now-you-see-it-now-you-don't business of fifteen or so pounds of baby fat?" Mihul laughed.
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