“And I was blocked against spy-rays,” said Number One, “so it must have been a snooper. A snooper with a voice. Manarkans are snoopers, but they can’t talk. Most snoopers can’t . . . except maybe Ordoviks. There were a couple of them around last night. Can Ordoviks talk? And Chickladorians—are they snoopers?” “I don’t know.” “I don’t know either, but I’ll find out, and when I do I’ll go gunning.” Tommie came back to Cloud’s room and her serenity, skin-deep at best, vanished completely as the new tape was played. “Condemn and blast that lying, slimy, two-faced, double-crossing snake!” she roared. “I’ll call out the. . . .” “You won’t either—pipe down!” Cloud ordered, sharply. “Mob rule never settled anything. That’s what you expected, isn’t it?” “Well . . . more or less, I suppose . . . yes.” “QX. We got _something_ to work on now, but we need more, and we’ve got only today to get it. Who’s the crookedest judge in town—the one most apt to be in on this kind of a deal?” “Trellis. High Judge Rose Trellis of the Enchanting. . . .” “Skip the embellishments. Take both of these tapes to Judge Trellis and _insist_ on seeing him at once.” “It isn’t a him—she’s a her.” “Her, then. Make it snappy. And don’t blow up if she gives you the brush-off. We’re after data. And on your way back, pick up that newspaper editor and bring him along.” _Chapter 9_ ▂▂▂▂▂▂TROUBLE ON TOMINGA TOMMIE LEFT, accompanied mentally by Nadine, and reached the judge’s antechamber; with Vesta taping in Middle-Plateau Tomingan everything that occurred. The approach was difficult, and Tommie’s temper grew shorter and shorter. “Get out of my way!” she bellowed finally at the sergeant-at-arms barring her way to the judicial Presence, in a voice that rattled the windows and was audible above four blocks of city traffic. “Or shoot, if you want to get yourself and this building and half of Mingia blown clear up into the stratosphere! Jump! Before I take that blaster and shove it so far down your throat it’ll hit day-before-yesterday’s breakfast!” The guard did not have quite enough nerve to shoot, and Tommie almost wrenched the door of the judge’s inner office off its hinges as she went in. “What’s this, pray? Get out! Sergeant-at. . . .” “Shut up, Rose Trellis of the Enchanting Vistas of Exotic Blooms—you’re listening, not talking. Here’s two tapes of what Number One and his misbegotten scum have been doing. Play ’em! And then _do something_ about ’em! And listen, you lying, double-crossing, back-biting slime-lizard!” Tommie’s prettily-made-up face was in shocking contrast to the venemous fury in Tommie’s eyes as she leaned over the judge’s massive desk until nose was a scant ten inches from nose. “If that atomic blast goes off tonight you and your whole Srizonified crew will wish to all your devils you’d never been born!”