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Updated: August 21, 2024
"You will oversimplify grossly, of course, but it should do for the moment. At a more leisurely time I shall be glad to give Trigger an accurate description of the processes." Trigger smiled at him. "Thank you, Professor!" She took her second sip of the Puya. Not bad. "Well, Mantelish was dosing this plasmoid with mild electrical stimulations," Holati went on.
It just looks disgusting." "Disgusting!" Mantelish boomed, offended again. The Commissioner held up a hand. "Just a moment," he said. He'd picked up some signal Trigger hadn't noticed, for he went over to the wall now and touched something there. A release button apparently. The door to the room opened. Trigger's grabber came in. The door closed behind him.
"There went another quarter million of your credits, Commissioner." Mantelish and Lyad headed for the lock to get the solvent. Trigger slipped off her work gloves and turned to follow them. "Might be a while before I'm back," she said. The Commissioner started to say something, then nodded and climbed back into the transmitters.
Quillan's tanned face was thoughtful, perhaps a trifle amused. Mantelish looked very red and angry. His shock of white hair was wildly rumpled. The Ermetyne appeared a bit wilted. "What's been going on?" Trigger asked. It was the wrong question. Mantelish took a deep breath and began bellowing like a wounded thunder-ork. Trigger listened, with some admiration.
Trigger glanced at her watch. It had been going on for only fifteen minutes, but she felt somewhat dizzy by now. The Ermetyne just looked a little more wilted. After a minute, Commissioner Tate inquired politely whether there was any further information the First Lady could think of to give them at this time. She shook her head. No. Only Professor Mantelish believed her.
"Mantelish!" gasped the Commissioner. "You can't be serious!" "I am." "Well," said Commissioner Tate, "sit down. I'm open to suggestions." Space-armor drill hadn't been featured much in the Colonial School's crowded curriculum.
She studied 113-A curiously. "A mighty mite! What does Mantelish make of it?" "He thinks the 112-113 unit forms a kind of self-regulating system. The big one induces plasmoid activity, the little one modifies it. This 113-A might be a spare regulator. But it seems to be more than a spare which brings us to that first lead we got. A gang of raiders crashed Mantelish's lab one night."
But probably he's just so brilliant that he keeps fading beyond my mental range." Trigger laughed. "My father used to come home from a session with Mantelish muttering the same sort of thing." She glanced at the ring again. "By the way, have any plasmoids actually been stolen around here for us to detect?" He nodded.
"Even the professor isn't certain he could distinguish between the two. Right, Mantelish?" "That is true," said Mantelish, "at present." He was a very big, rather fat but healthy-looking old man with a thick thatch of white hair and a ruddy face. "Without a physical comparison " He shrugged. "What's so important about the critter?" Trigger asked, eyeing the leech again.
"Sit down," he said. "I've been trying to get hold of Mantelish for the past hour. He's over on the other side of the planet again." Trigger sat down and lifted an eyebrow. "Should he be?" "I don't think so," said Holati. "But I've been overruled on that.
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