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 was a good try. I'll look him up tomorrow." He gave Trigger gentle wink. "Let 'em pant," he said. "At a distance!" She smiled uncertainly. If he had a mustache, she thought, he'd be twirling it. There were two more calls in the next few minutes, of similar nature. Quillan rebuffed them cheerfully. It was rather flattering in a way. She wondered how so many people in the cocktail lounge happened to know Quillan by name. When the ComWeb reported the fourth caller, it sounded awed. "The name given is the Lady Lyad Ermetyne!" it said. Quillan beamed. "Lyad? Bless her heart! A pleasure. Put her through." A screen shaped itself on the wall mirror to the right. Lyad Ermetyne's face appeared in it. "Heslet Quillan!" She smiled. "So you aren't permanently lost to your friends, after all!" It was a light, liquid voice. It suited her appearance perfectly. "Only to the frivolous ones," Quillan said. His thick black brows went up. His face took on a dedicated look. "I'm headed for Manon on duty." She nodded. "Still with the Subspace Engineers?" "And with the rank of major by now," Quillan said.