"Now, 113," she hurried on, "is a very small plasmoid"--she held her hands fifteen inches or so apart--"like that; and it's attached to the big one. Correct?" Rak nodded, a little stiffly. "Essentially correct, Miss Farn." "Well," Trigger said, "I can't blame you for worrying a bit. How about your Guard Captain? Isn't it all right to ask him about reinforcements?" Rak pursed his lips. "Yes. And I did. This morning. Before I called you." "What did he say?" Rak grimaced unhappily. "He implied, Miss Farn, that his present guard complement could handle any emergency. How would he know?" "That's his job," Trigger pointed out gently. The Juniors did look badly worried. "He didn't have any helpful ideas?" "None," said Rak. "He said that if someone wanted to put up the money to hire a battle squad of Special Federation Police, he could always find some use for them. But that's hopeless, of course." Trigger straightened up. She reached out and poked Rak's bony chest with a finger tip. "You know something?" she said. "It's not!" The four faces lit up together. "The fact is," Trigger went on, "that I'm handling the Project budget until someone shows up to take over. So I think I'll just buy you that Federation battle squad, Rak! I'll get on it right away." She stood up. The Juniors bounced automatically out of their chairs. "You go tell your guard Captain," she instructed them from the hall door, "there'll be a squad showing up in time for dinner tonight." * * * * * The Federation Police Office in Ceyce informed Trigger that a Class A Battle Squad--twenty trained men with full equipment--would report for two months' duty at the Colonial School during the afternoon. She made them out a check and gave it the Ruya Farn signature via telewriter. The figure on that check was going to cause some U-League auditor's eyebrows to fly off the top of his head one of these days; but if the League insisted on remaining aloof to the problems of its Plasmoid Project, a little financial anguish was the least it could expect in return. Trigger felt quite cheerful for a while. Then she had a call from Precol's Maccadon office. She was requested to stand by while a personal interstellar transmission was switched to her ComWeb. It looked like her day! She hummed softly, waiting. She knew just one individual affluent enough to be able to afford personal interstellar conversations; and that was Commissioner Tate. Fast work, Plemp, she thought approvingly. But it was Brule Inger's face that flashed into view on the ComWeb. Trigger's heart jumped. Her breath caught in her throat. "Brule!" she yelled then. She shot up out of her chair. "Where are you calling from?" Brule's eyes crinkled around the edges. He gave her the smile. The good old smile. "Unfortunately, darling, I'm still in the Manon System." He blinked. "What happened to your hair?"