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"Jack," Lunt said uncomfortably, "this is a court order to impound your Fuzzies as evidence in the Kellogg case. These men are deputy marshals from Central Courts; they've been ordered to bring the Fuzzies into Mallorysport." "Let me see the order, Jack," Brannhard said, still remaining seated. Lunt handed it to Jack, and he handed it across to Brannhard.
"No, and they signed for him, too." Brannhard downed what was left of his drink, got a cigar out of his pocket and lit it. "Now, we're going to go to Mallorysport and get the rest of them back." "But.... But the Chief Justice signed that order. He won't give them back just because we ask him to." Brannhard made an impolite noise. "I'll bet everything I own Pendarvis never saw that order.
Piet Dumont, the Mallorysport chief of police, might have been a good cop once, but for as long as Gus Brannhard had known him, he had been what he was now an empty shell of unsupported arrogance, with a sagging waistline and a puffy face that tried to look tough and only succeeded in looking unpleasant.
Grego was apparently agreeable, as long as the job got done. "Well, if you can make anything out of it, pass it on to Mr. Coombes as soon as possible, to be worked up for use in court," he said. Ben Rainsford went back to Beta Continent, and Gerd van Riebeek remained in Mallorysport.
"Twenty hundred; it'll be seventeen hundred in Mallorysport," he said. "I could catch Jimenez at Science Center if I called now. He usually works a little late." "Go ahead. Want to show him some Fuzzies?"
"I sent the report off," Rainsford said, then looked at his watch. "It ought to be on the mail boat for Mallorysport by now; this time tomorrow it'll be in hyperspace for Terra. We won't say anything about it; just sit back and watch Len Kellogg and Ernst Mallin working up a sweat trying to talk us out of sending it." He chuckled.
No, I meant a case of borderline sapience; something our sacred talk-and-build-a-fire rule won't cover. Just how did this come to our attention, Stephen?" "Well, it was transmitted to us from Contact Center in Mallorysport late Friday night.
Kellogg had been laboring to pump up a head of enthusiasm; now he was ready to valve it off. "But this is amazing! This will make scientific history! Now, of course, you all realize how pricelessly valuable these Fuzzies are. They must be brought at once to Mallorysport, where they can be studied under laboratory conditions by qualified psychologists, and " "No."
At the time, there seemed no reason to give the thing any beat-to-quarters-and-man-guns treatment, but we got a report on Saturday afternoon Mallorysport time, that is that Leonard Kellogg had played off the copy of the tape that Juan Jimenez had made for file, and had alerted Victor Grego immediately. "Of course, Grego saw the implications at once.
Then he hesitated for a moment, and said: "Max, do you like the situation here in Mallorysport? Be damned if I do." "What do you mean?" "There are too many strangers in town," Ian Ferguson said. "All the same kind of strangers husky-looking young men, twenty to thirty, going around in pairs and small groups.
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