Trigger and Friends by James H. Schmitz

Trigger said, “I still think it would have been smarter to keep me informed right from the start of what was going on.”

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t be telling you a thing even now,” he said, “if it hadn’t been definitely established that you’re already involved in the matter. This could develop into a pretty messy operation. I wouldn’t have wanted you in on it, if it could have been avoided. And if you weren’t going to be in on it, I couldn’t go spilling Federation secrets to you.”

“I’m in on it, definitely, eh?”

He nodded. “For the duration.”

“But you’re still not telling me everything?”

“There’re a few things I can’t tell you,” he said. “I’m following orders in that.”

Trigger smiled faintly “That’s a switch! I didn’t know you knew how.”

“I’ve followed plenty of orders in my time,” the Commissioner said, “especially when I thought they made sense. And I think these do.”

Trigger was silent a moment. “You said a while ago that most of the heat was to go off me tonight. Can you talk about that?”

“I’ll have to tell you something else again first—why we’re going to Manon.”

She settled back in her chair. “Go ahead.”

“By what is, at all events, an interesting coincidence,” the Commissioner went on, “we’ve had word that an outfit called Vishni’s Fleet hasn’t been heard from for some months. Their Independent Fleet area is a long way out beyond Manon, but Vishni’s had his pick of a few hundred uncharted habitable planets and a few thousand very expert outworlders. And Vishni’s boys are exactly the kind of people who would get involved in a deal like this.”

“You think they stole 112-113?” Trigger asked.

Holati shook his head. “Doesn’t look as simple as that, because there were obviously some insiders involved. But I don’t want to get into that here.” He and Quillan exchanged a quick glance. The Commissioner hurried on.

“Now, what’s been done is to hire a few of the other I-Fleets around there and set them and as many Space Scout squadrons as could be kicked loose from duty elsewhere to surveying the Vishni territory. Our outfit is in charge of that operation. And Manon, of course, is a lot better point from which to conduct it than the Hub. If something is discovered that looks interesting enough to investigate in detail, we’ll only be a week’s run away.

“So we’ve been ready to move for the past two weeks now, which was when the first reports started coming in from the Vishni area—negative reports so far, by the way. I’ve kept stalling from day to day, because there were also indications that your grabber friends might be getting set to swing at you finally. It seemed tidier to get that matter cleared up first. Now they’ve swung, and we’ll go.”

He rubbed his chin. “The nice thing about it all,” he remarked, “is that we’re going there with the two items the opposition has revealed it wants. We’re letting them know those items will be available in the Manon System henceforward. They might get discouraged and just drop the whole project. If they do, that’s fine. We’ll go ahead with cleaning up the Vishni phase of the operation.

“But,” he continued, “the indications are they can’t drop their project any more than we can drop looking for that key unit. So we’ll expect them to show up in Manon. When they do, they’ll be working in unfamiliar territory and in a system where they have only something like fifty thousand people to hide out in, instead of a planetary civilization. I think they’ll find things getting very hot for them very fast in Manon.”

“Very good,” said Trigger. “That I like! But what makes you think the opposition is just one group? There might be a bunch of them by now. Maybe even fighting among themselves.”

“I’d bet on at least two groups myself,” he said. “And if they’re fighting, they’ve got our blessing. They’re still all opposition as far as we’re concerned.”

She nodded. “How are you letting them know about the move?”

“The mountains around here are lousy with observers. Very cute tricks some of them use—one boy has been sitting in a hollow tree for weeks. We let them see what we want to. This evening they saw you coming in. Later tonight they’ll see you climbing into the ship with the rest of the party and taking off. They’ve already picked up messages to tell them just where the ship’s going.” He paused. “But you’ve got a job to finish up here first, Trigger. That’ll take about four days. So it won’t really be you they see climbing into the ship.”

“What!” She straightened up.

“We’ve got a facsimile for you,” he explained. “Girl agent. She goes along to draw the heat to Manon.”

Trigger felt herself tightening up slowly all over.

“What’s this job you’re talking about?” she asked evenly.

“Can’t tell you in too much detail. But around four days from now somebody is coming in to Maccadon to interview you.”

“Interview me? What about?”

He hesitated a moment. “There’s a theory,” he said, “that you might have information you don’t know you have. And that the people who sent grabbers after you want that information. If it’s true, the interview will bring it out.”

Her mouth went dry suddenly. And she’d almost spilled everything, she was thinking. The paid-up reservation. Every last thing.

“I’d like to get this straight,” she said. “What you’re talking about sounds like it’s a mind-search job, Holati.”

“It’s in that class,” he said. “But it won’t be an ordinary mind-search. The people who are coming here are top experts at that kind of work.”

She nodded. “I don’t know much about it . . . Do they think somebody’s got to me with a hypno-spray or something? That I’ve been conditioned? Something like that?”

“I don’t know, Trigger,” he said. “It may be something in that line. But whatever it is, they’ll be able to handle it.”

Trigger moistened her lips. “I was thinking, you know,” she said. “Supposing I’m mind-blocked.”

He shook his head. “I can tell you that, anyway,” he said. “We already know you’re not.”

Trigger was silent a moment. Then she said, “After that interview’s over, I’m to ship out to Manon—is that it?”

“That’s right.”

“But it would depend on the outcome of that interview too, wouldn’t it?” Trigger pointed out. “I mean you can’t really be sure what those people might decide, can you?”

“Yes, I can,” he said. “This thing’s been all scheduled out, Trigger. And the next step of the schedule for you is Manon. Nothing else.”

She didn’t believe him in the least. He couldn’t know. She nodded.

“Guess I might as well play along.” She looked at him. “I don’t think I really have much choice, do I?”

“Afraid not,” he admitted. “It’s one of those things that just has to be done. But you won’t find it at all bad. Your companion, by the way, for the next three days will be Mihul.”

“Mihul!” Trigger exclaimed.

“Right here,” said Mihul’s voice. Trigger swung around in her chair.

Mihul stood in a door which had appeared in the far wall of the room. She gave Trigger a smile. Trigger looked back at the Commissioner.

“I don’t get it,” she said.

“Oh, Mihul’s in Scout Intelligence,” he said. “Wouldn’t be here if she weren’t.”

“Been an agent for eighteen years,” Mihul said, coming forward. “Hi, Trigger. Surprised?”

“Yes,” Trigger admitted. “Very.”

“They brought me into this job,” Mihul said, “because they figured you and I would get along together just fine.”

9

It was really infernally bad luck! Mihul was going to be the least easy of wardens to get away from . . . particularly in time to catch a liner tomorrow night. Mihul knew her much too well.

“Like to come along and meet your facsimile now?” Mihul inquired. She grinned. “Most people find the first time quite an experience.”

Trigger stood up resignedly. “All right,” she said. They were being polite about it, but it was clear that it was still a cop and prisoner situation. And old friend Mihul! She remembered something then. “I believe Major Quillan has my gun.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, not smiling. “No,” he said. “Gave it to Mihul.”

“That’s right,” said Mihul. “Let’s go, kid.”

They went out through the door that had appeared in the wall. It closed again behind them.

The facsimile stood up from behind a table at which she had been sitting as Trigger and Mihul came into the room. She gave Trigger a brief, impersonal glance, then looked at Mihul.

Mihul performed no introductions.

“Dress, robe and scarf,” she said to the facsimile. “The shoes are close enough.” She turned to Trigger. “She’ll be wearing your street clothes when she leaves,” she said. “Could we have the dress now?” Trigger pulled the dress over her head, tossed it to Mihul and stood in her underwear, looking at her double slip out of her street clothes. They did seem to be a very close match in size and proportions. Watching the shifting play of slim muscles in the long legs and smooth back, Trigger decided the similarity was largely a natural one. The silver-blonde hair was the same, of course. The gray eyes seemed almost identical—and the rest of the face was a little too identical! They must have used a life-mask there.

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