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their own specifications.
What kind of specifications? Trigger inquired.
Lyad hadn t learned in detail, but some of the robots appeared to have
demonstrated rather alarming possibilities. Those possibilities, however, were
precisely what intrigued the hierarchy most.
Mantelish smacked his lips thoughtfully and shook his head. Not good! he
said. Not at all good! I m beginning to think He paused a moment. Go on,
Lyad.
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The hierarchy was now giving renewed consideration to a curious request the
plasmoid had made almost as soon as
Balmordan became capable of understanding it. The request had been to find and
destroy plasmoid 113-A.
The Ermetyne s amber eyes switched to Trigger. Shall I? they asked.
Trigger nodded.
And a specific human being. The Devagas already had established that this
human being must be Trigger Argee.
What?
Mantelish s thick white eyebrows shot up. 113-A we can understand it is
afraid of being in some way brought back under control. But why Trigger?
Because, Lyad said carefully, 112 was aware that 113-A intended to
condition Trigger into being interpreter.
its
Professor Mantelish s jaw dropped. He swung his head toward Trigger. Is that
true?
She nodded. It s true, all right. We ve been working on it, but we haven t
got too far along. Tell you later. Go ahead, Lyad.
The Devagas, naturally, hadn t acted on the king plasmoid s naive suggestion.
Whatever it feared was more than likely to be very useful to them. Instead
they made preparations to bring both 113-A and Trigger Argee into their
possession.
They would then have a new, strong bargaining point in their dealings with
their dubious partner. But they discovered promptly that neither Trigger nor
113-A were at all easy to come by.
Balmordan now suggested a modification of tactics. The hierarchy had seen to
it that a number of interpreters were available for 112; Balmordan in
consequence had lost much of his early importance and was anxious to regain
it. His proposal was that all efforts should be directed at obtaining 113-A.
Once it was obtained, he himself would volunteer to become its first
interpreter. Trigger Argee, because of the information she might reveal to
others, should be destroyed a far simpler operation than attempting to take
her alive.
This was agreed to; and Balmordan was authorized to carry out both operations.
Mantelish had begun shaking his head again. No! he said suddenly and loudly.
He looked at Lyad, then at Trigger.
Trigger! he said.
Yes? said Trigger.
Take that deceitful woman to her cabin, Mantelish ordered. Lock her up. I
have something to say to the
Commissioner.
Trigger arose. All right, she said. Come on, Lyad.
The two of them left the lounge. Mantelish stood up and went over to the
Commissioner. He grasped the
Commissioner s jacket lapels.
Holati, old friend! he began emotionally.
What is it, old friend? the Commissioner inquired.
What I have to say, Mantelish rumbled. will shock you. Profoundly.
No! exclaimed the Commissioner.
Yes, said Mantelish. That plasmoid 112 it has, of course, an almost
inestimable potential value to civilization.
Of course, the Commissioner agreed.
But it also, said Mantelish, represents a quite intolerable threat to
civilization.
Mantelish! cried the Commissioner.
It does. You don t comprehend these matters as I do. Holati, that plasmoid
must be destroyed! Secretly, if possible.
And by us!
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Mantelish! gasped the Commissioner. You can t he 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. But the Commissioner broke out one of the ship s two heavy-duty
suits; and when Trigger wasn t at the controls, eating, sleeping, or taking
care of the ship s housekeeping with Lyad and Mantelish, she drilled.
She wasn t at the controls too often. When she was, they had to surface and
proceed in normal space. But Lyad, not too surprisingly, turned out to be a
qualified subspace pilot. Even less surprisingly, she already had made a
careful study of the ship s controls. After a few hours of instruction, she
went on shift with the Commissioner along the less rugged stretches.
In this area, none of the stretches were smooth.
When not on duty, Lyad lay on her bunk and brooded.
Mantelish tried to be useful.
Repulsive might have been brooding too. He didn t make himself noticeable.
Time passed. The stretches got rougher. The last ten hours, the Commissioner
didn t stir out of the control seat. Lyad had been locked in her cabin again
as the critical period approached. In normal space, the substation should have
been in clear detector range by now. Here, the detectors gave occasional
blurry, uncertain indications that somewhere in the swirling energies about
them might be something more solidly material. It was like creeping through
jungle thickets towards the point where a dangerous quarry lurked.
They eased down on the coordinate points. They came sliding out between two
monstrous twisters. The detectors leaped to life.
Ship! said the Commissioner. He swore. Frigate class, he said an instant
later. He turned his head toward Trigger.
Get Lyad! They re in communication range. We ll let her communicate.
Trigger, heart hammering, ran to get Lyad. The Commissioner had the
short-range communicator on when they came hurrying back to the control room
together.
That the
Aurora
? he asked.
Lyad glanced at the outline in the detectors. It is! Her face went white.
Talk to em, he ordered. Know their call number?
Of course. Lyad sat down at the communicator. Her hands shook for a moment,
then steadied. What am I to say?
Just find out what s happened, to start with. Why they re still here. Then
we ll improvise. Get them to come on screen if you can.
Lyad s fingers flew over the tabs. The communicator signaled contact.
Lyad said evenly, Come in, Aurora
! This is the Ermetyne.
There was a pause, a rather unaccountably long pause, Trigger thought. Then a
voice said, Yes, First Lady?
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