Part 28 (1/2)

”May I ask you, finally, a few pertinent questions?” Trigger inquired humbly.

”Not here, sweet stuff,” said Quillan.

”You're a bossy sort of slob, Heslet Quillan,” she said equably.

Quillan didn't answer. They had come down the stairway to the storerooms level and were walking along the big lit hallway toward their cabins.

Trigger felt pleasantly relaxed. But she did have a great many pertinent questions to ask Quillan now, and she wanted to get started on them.

”Oh!” she said suddenly. Just as suddenly, Quillan's hand was on her shoulder, moving her along.

”Hush now,” he said. ”And keep walking.”

”But you saw it, didn't you?” Trigger asked, trying to look back to the small open door into the storerooms they'd just pa.s.sed.

Quillan sighed. ”Certainly,” he said. ”Guy in s.p.a.ce armor.”

”But what's he doing there?”

”Checking something, I suppose.” His hand left her shoulder; and, for just a moment, his finger rested lightly across her lips. Trigger glanced up at him. He was walking on beside her, not looking at her.

All right, she thought--she could take a hint. But she felt tense and uncomfortable now. Something was going on again, apparently.

They turned into the side pa.s.sage and came up to her cabin. Trigger started to turn to face him, and Quillan picked her up and went on without a noticeable break in his stride. Close to her ear, his voice whispered, ”Explain in a moment! Dangerous here.”

As the door to the end cabin closed behind them, he put her back on her feet. He looked at his watch.

”We can talk here,” he said. ”But there may not be much time for conversation.” He gestured toward a table against the wall. ”Take a look at the setup.”

Trigger looked. The table was littered with instruments, like an electronic workbench. A visual screen showed a view of both her own cabin and a section of the pa.s.sage outside it, up to the point where it entered the big hall.

”What is it?” she asked uncertainly.

”Essentially,” said Quillan, ”we've set up a cata.s.sin trap.”

”Cata.s.sin!” Trigger squeaked.

”That's right. Don't get too nervous though. I've caught them before.

Used to be a sort of specialty of mine. And there's one thing about them--they'll blab their pointed little heads off if you can get one alive and promise it its catnip....” He'd shucked off his jacket and taken out of it a very large handgun with a bell-shaped mouth. He laid the gun down next to the view screen. ”In case,” he said, unrea.s.suringly. ”Now just a moment.”

He sat down in front of the view screen and did something to it.

”All right,” he said then. ”We're here and set. Probability period starts in three minutes, continues for sixty. Signal on any blip.

Otherwise no gabbing. And remember they're _fast_. Don't get sappy.”

There was no answer. Quillan did something else to the screen and stood up again. He looked broodingly at Trigger. ”It's those d.a.m.n computers again!” he said. ”I don't see any sense in it.”

”In what?” she asked shakily.

”Everything that's happening around here is being fed back to them at the moment,” he said. ”When they heard about our invite to Lyad's dinner party, and who was to be present, they came up with a honey. In the time period I mentioned a cata.s.sin is supposed to show up at your cabin. They give it a pretty high probability.”

Trigger didn't say anything. If she had, she probably would have squeaked again.