Legacy | Page 6

make her edgier. You know how
it goes."
"Uh-huh," he said. "Fighter nerves."
"Same deal," Mihul agreed.
There was a short pause. "How about slapping a guard on all Colonial
school exits?" he suggested.
"Can you send me an army?"
"No."
"Then forget it. She was a student here, remember? Last year a bunch
of our students smuggled the stuffed restructured mastodon out and left
it in the back garden of the mayor of Ceyce, just for laughs. Too many
exits. And Trigger was a trickier monkey than most that way, when she
felt like it. She'll fade out of here whenever she wants to."
"It's those damn tube portal systems!" said Quillan, with feeling. "Most
gruesome invention that ever hit the tailing profession." He sighed.
"You win, Mihul! The Commissioner isn't in at the moment. But
whether he gets in or not, I'll have someone over today to pick her up.
Matter of fact, I'll come along myself."
"Good for you, boy!" Mihul said relievedly. "Did you get anything out
of yesterday's grabbers?"
"A little. 'Get her, don't harm her' were their instructions. Otherwise it
was like with those other slobs. A hole in the head where the real info
should be. But at least we know for sure now that someone is
specifically after Argee. The price was kind of interesting."

"What was it?"
"Flat half million credits."
Mihul whistled. "Poor Trigger!"
"Well, nobody's very likely to earn the money."
"I hope not. She's a good kid. All right, Major. Signing off now."
"Hold on a minute," said Quillan. "You asked a while ago if the girl
had gone ta-ta."
"So I did," Mihul said, surprised. "You didn't say. I figured it was
against security."
"It probably is," Quillan admitted. "Everything seems to be, right now.
I've given up trying to keep up with that. Anyway--I don't know that
she has. Neither does the Commissioner. But he's worried. And Argee
has a date she doesn't know about with the Psychology Service, four
days from now."
"The eggheads?" Mihul was startled. "What do they want with her?"
"You know," Quillan remarked reflectively, "that's odd! They didn't
think to tell me."
"Why are you letting me know?" Mihul asked.
"You'll find out, doll," he said.
* * * * *
The U-League guard leaning against the wall opposite the portal
snapped to attention as it opened. Trigger stepped out. He gave her a
fine flourish of a salute.
"Good morning, Miss Farn."

"Morning," Trigger said. She flashed him a smile. "Did the mail get
in?"
"Just twenty minutes ago."
She nodded, smiled again and walked past him to her office. She
always got along fine with cops of almost any description, and these
League boys were extraordinarily pleasant and polite. They were also,
she'd noticed, a remarkably muscled group.
She locked the office door behind her--part of the Plasmoid Project's
elaborate security precautions--went over to her mail file and found it
empty. Which meant that whatever had come in was purely routine and
already being handled by her skeleton office staff. Later in the day she
might get a chance to scrawl Ruya Farn's signature on a few dozen
letters and checks. Big job! Trigger sat down at her desk.
She brooded there a minute or two, tapping her teeth with her
thumbnail. The Honorable Precolonial Commissioner Tate, whatever
else might be said of him, undoubtedly was one of the brainiest little
characters she'd ever come across. He probably saw some quite valid
reason for keeping her here, isolated and uninformed. The question was
what the reason could be.
Security.... Trigger wrinkled her nose. Security didn't mean a thing.
Everybody and everything associated with the Old Galactic plasmoids
had been wrapped up in Federation security measures since the day the
plasmoid discovery was announced. And she'd been in the middle of
the operations concerning them right along. Why should Holati Tate
have turned secretive on her now? When even blabby old Plemponi
could contact him.
It was more than a little annoying....
Trigger shrugged, reached into a desk drawer and took out a small
solidopic. She set it on the desk and regarded it moodily.
The face of an almost improbably handsome young man looked back at

her. Startling dark-blue eyes; a strong chin, curly brown hair. There
was a gleam of white teeth behind the quick, warm smile which always
awoke a responsive glow in her.
She and Brule Inger had been the nearest thing to engaged for the last
two and a half years, ever since Precol sent them out together to its
project on Manon Planet. They'd been dating before that, while they
were both still attending the Colonial School. But now she was here,
perhaps stuck here indefinitely--unless she did something about it--and
Brule was on Manon Planet. By