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"Wrong slot," Trigger told him. He looked back. "Eh?" "You want to put it in the disposal, don't you?" "Thanks," Plemponi said absently. "Always doing that. Confusing them...." He dropped the tray where it belonged, shoved his hands into the chef's cleaning recess and waved them around, then came back, still looking absent-minded, and stopped before Trigger's chair.
In this lane it has the right of way. You do not have the right of way. Got all that, Plemp?" "Are you sure?" Doctor Plemponi asked her bewilderedly. "Confound it! I shall blow my siren." He did. Trigger winced. "There!" Plemponi said triumphantly as the other driver veered off in fright. Trigger told herself to relax.
When even blabby old Plemponi could contact him. It was more than a little annoying.... Trigger shrugged, reached into a desk drawer and took out a small solidopic. She set it on the desk and regarded it moodily. The face of an almost improbably handsome young man looked back at her. Startling dark-blue eyes; a strong chin, curly brown hair.
She went back for her sun hat, climbed in, closed the door and sat down beside him, shoving the holstered Denton forward on her thigh. Plemponi eyed the gun dubiously. "Brushing up in case there's another grabber raid?" he inquired. He reached out for the guide stick. Trigger shook her head. "Just working off hostility, I guess."
Trigger raised an eyebrow. "Why not?" "Federation security," Plemponi said, frowning. He added, "I wasn't supposed to tell you that either, but what could I do?" "Federation security? Because of the plasmoids?" "Yes.... Well.... I'd I don't know." Trigger sighed. "Is it just me you're not supposed to tell these things to?" "No, no, no," Plemponi said hastily. "Nobody.
He studied her face for a moment. "Commissioner Tate gave me a message for you," he said suddenly. Trigger's eyes narrowed slightly. "When?" "The day after he left." Plemponi lifted a hand. "Now wait! You'll see how it was. He called in and said, and I quote, 'Plemp, you don't stand much of a chance at keeping secrets from Trigger, so I'll give you no unnecessary secrets to keep.
Plemponi glanced over at Mihul and looked evasive. "That being?" he asked. "You know," Trigger said. "But I'll put it into specific questions if you like. Where's Commissioner Tate?" "I don't know." "Where is Mantelish?" He shook his head. "I don't know that either." He began to look unhappy. "Oh?" said Trigger. "Who does know then?" "I'm not allowed to tell you," Doctor Plemponi said firmly.
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.
"You, Trigger," Plemponi told her, "are an honored guest here at the Colonial School. You're the daughter of our late friend and colleague Runser Argee. You were one of our star pupils not just as a small-arms medallist either.
Mantelish, for all his idiosyncrasies, is undoubtedly the greatest living biologist in the League. And the Plasmoid Project here at the school is without question the League's most important current undertaking." "So I've been told," said Trigger. "That's why I want to find out what's gone haywire with it." "In a moment," Plemponi said. "In a moment."
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