Part 11 (1/2)

”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 b.u.t.ton apparently. The door to the room opened. Trigger's grabber came in. The door closed behind him.

He was carrying a tray with a squat brown flask and four rather small gla.s.ses on it.

He gave Trigger a grin. She gave him a tentative smile in return. The Commissioner had introduced him: Heslet Quillan--Major Heslet Quillan, of the Subs.p.a.ce Engineers. For a Subs.p.a.ce Engineer, Trigger had thought skeptically, he was a pretty good grabber. But there was a qualified truce in the room. It would last, at least, until Holati finished his explaining. There was no really good reason not to include Major Quillan in it.

”Ah, Puya!” Professor Mantelish exclaimed, advancing on the tray as Quillan set it on the table. Mantelish seemed to have forgotten about plasmoid experiments for the moment, and Trigger didn't intend to remind him. She drew her hand back quietly from 113-A. The professor unstoppered the flask. ”You'll have some, Trigger, I'm sure? The only really good thing the benighted world of Rumli ever produced.”

”My great-grandmother,” Trigger remarked, ”was a Rumlian.” She watched him fill the four gla.s.ses with a thin purple liquid. ”I've never tried it; but yes, thanks.”

Quillan put one of the gla.s.ses in front of her.

”And we shall drink,” Mantelish suggested, with a suave flourish of his Puya, ”to your great-grandmother!”

”We shall also,” suggested Major Quillan, pulling a chair up to the table for himself, ”Advise Trigger to take a very small sip on her first go at the stuff.”

n.o.body had invited him to sit down. But n.o.body was objecting either.

Well, that fitted, Trigger thought.

She sipped. It was tart and hot. Very hot. She set the gla.s.s back on the table, inhaled with difficulty, exhaled quiveringly. Tears gathered in her eyes.

”Very good!” she husked.

”Very good,” the Commissioner agreed. He put down his empty gla.s.s and smacked his lips lightly. ”And now,” he said briskly, ”let's get on with this conference.”

Trigger glanced around the room while Quillan refilled three gla.s.ses.

The small live coal she had swallowed was melting away; a warm glow began to spread through her. It did look like the dining room of a hunting lodge. The woodwork was dark, old-looking, worn with much polis.h.i.+ng. Horned heads of various formidable Maccadon life-forms adorned the walls.

But it was open season now on a different kind of game. Three men had walked briskly past them when Quillan brought her in by the front door.

They hadn't even looked at her. There were sounds now and then from some of the other rooms, and that general feeling of a considerable number of people around--of being at an operating headquarters of some sort, which hummed with quiet activity.

One of the things, Holati Tate said, which had not become public knowledge so far was that Professor Mantelish actually succeeded in getting some of the plasmoids on the Old Galactic base back into operation. One plasmoid in particular.

The reason the achievement hadn't been announced was that for nearly six weeks no one except the three men directly involved in the experiments had known about them. And during that time other things occurred which made subsequent publicity seem very inadvisable.

Mantelish scowled. ”We made up a report to the League the day of the initial discovery,” he informed Trigger. ”It was a complete and detailed report!”

”True,” Holati said, ”but the report the U-League got didn't happen to be the one Professor Mantelish helped make up. We'll go into that later.

The plasmoid the professor was experimenting with was the 112-113 unit.”

He s.h.i.+fted his gaze to Mantelish. ”Still want me to tell it?”

”Yes, yes!” Mantelish said impatiently. ”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. ”He noticed suddenly that as he did it other plasmoids in that section of Harvest Moon were indicating signs of activity. So he called in Doctor Fayle and Doctor Azol.”