other hand.

"At any rate," Trigger said, drawing her hands back, "now that I've
realized it, I'm going to make up for it. From here on out, I'll
cooperate."

"To the hilt?"

She nodded. "To the hilt! Whatever that is."

"You can't imagine," said Quillan, "how much that relieves me." He
filled her glass, giving her a relieved look. "I had definite
instructions, of course, not to do anything like grabbing you by the
back of the neck, flinging you into a rest cubicle and sitting on it,
guns drawn, until we'd berthed in Precol Port. But I was tempted, I can
tell you."

He paused and thought. "You know," he began again, "that really would be
the best."

"No!" Trigger said indignantly. "When I said cooperate, I meant
actively. Mihul said I'm considered one of the gang in this project.
From now on I'll behave like one. And I'll also expect to be treated
like one."

"Hm," said Quillan. "Well, there is something you can do, all right."

"What's that?"

"Go on display here, now."

"What for?" she asked.

"As bait, you sweet ninny! If the boss grabber is on this ship, we
should draw a new nibble from him." He appraised the green dress in the
mirror again. His expression grew absent. It might be best, Trigger
suspected, a trifle uneasily, to keep Major Quillan's thoughts turned
away from things like nibbling.

"All right," she said briskly. "Let's do that. But you'll have to brief
me."

13

She had felt somewhat self-conscious for the first two or three minutes.
But it helped when she caught a glimpse of their own table drifting by
among the others and realized that the smiling red-headed viewer image
over there looked completely at her ease.

It helped, too, that Major Quillan turned suddenly into the
light-but-ardent-conversation type of companion. In the short preceding
briefing he had pointed out that a bit of flirting, etc., was a
necessary, or at least nearly necessary, part of the act. Trigger was
going along with the flirting; he could be right about that. She
intended to stay on the alert for the etc.

They got nibbles very promptly. But not quite the right kind.

The concealed table ComWeb murmured, "A caller requests to be connected
with Major Quillan. Is it permitted?"

"Oho!" Quillan said poisonously. "I suspected we should have stayed off
circuit! Who's the caller?"

"The name given is Keth Deboll."

Quillan laughed. "Give the little wolf Major Quillan's regards and tell
him it