Legacy

by James H. Schmitz

  2

  There was a tube portal at the end of the hall outside Doctor Plemponi'soffice. Mihul stepped into the portal, punched the number of herpersonal quarters, waited till the overhead light flashed green a fewseconds later, and stepped out into another hall seventeen floors belowPlemponi's office and a little over a mile and a half away from it.

  Mihul crossed the hall, went into her apartment, locked the door behindher and punched a shield button. In her bedroom, she opened a wall safeand swung out a high-powered transmitter. She switched the transmitterto active.

  "Yes?" said a voice.

  "Mihul here," said Mihul. "Quillan or the Commissioner...."

  "Quillan here," the transmitter said a few seconds later in a differentvoice, a deep male one. "Go ahead, doll."

  Mihul grunted. "I'm calling," she said, "because I feel strongly thatyou boys had better take some immediate action in the Argee matter."

  "Oh?" said the voice. "What kind of action?"

  "How the devil would I know? I'm just telling you I can't be responsiblefor her here much longer."

  "Has something happened?" Quillan asked quickly.

  "If you mean has somebody taken another swing at her, no. But she's allwound up to start swinging herself. She isn't going to do much waitingeither."

  Quillan said thoughtfully, "Hasn't she been that way for quite a while?"

  "Not like she's been the last few days." Mihul hesitated. "Would it beagainst security if you told me whether something has happened to her?"

  "Happened to her?" Quillan repeated cautiously.

  "To her mind."

  "What makes you think so?"

  Mihul frowned at the transmitter.

  "Trigger always had a temper," she said. "She was always obstinate. Shewas always an individualist and ready to fight for her own rights andanyone else's. But she used to show good sense. She's got one of thehighest I.Q.s we ever processed through this place. The way she's actingnow doesn't look too rational."

  "How would she have acted earlier?" Quillan asked.

  Mihul considered. "She would have been very annoyed with CommissionerTate," she said. "I don't blame her for that--I'd be, too, in thecircumstances. When he got back, she'd have wanted a reasonableexplanation for what has been going on. If she didn't get one thatsatisfied her, she'd have quit. But she _would_ have waited till he gotback. Why not, after all?"

  "You don't think she's going to wait now?"

  "I do not," Mihul said. "She's forwarded him a kind of ultimatum throughPlemponi. Communicate-or-else, in effect. Frankly, I wouldn't care toguarantee she'll stay around to hear the answer."

  "Hm.... What do you expect she'll do?"

  "Take off," Mihul said. "One way or the other."

  "Ungh," Quillan said disgustedly. "You make it sound like the chick'sgot built-in space drives. You can stop her, can't you?"

  "Certainly I can stop her," Mihul said. "If I can lock her in her roomand sit on her to make sure she doesn't leave by the window. But'unobtrusively?' You're the one who stressed she isn't to know she'sbeing watched."

  "True," Quillan said promptly. "I spoke like a loon, Mihul."

  "True, Major Quillan, sir," said Mihul. "Now try again."

  The transmitter was silent a few seconds. "Could you guarantee her forthree days?" he asked.

  "I could not," said Mihul. "I couldn't guarantee her another threehours."

  "As bad as that?"

  "Yes," said Mihul. "As bad as that. She was controlling herself withPlemponi. But I've been observing her in the physical workouts. I've fedit to her as heavy as I could, but there's a limit to what you can dothat way. She's kept herself in very good shape."

  "One of the best, I've been told," said Quillan.

  "Condition, I meant," said Mihul. "Anyway, she's trained down fine rightnow. Any more of it would just make her edgier. You know how it goes."

  "Uh-huh," he said. "Fighter nerves."

  "Same deal," Mihul agreed.

  There was a short pause. "How about slapping a guard on all Colonialschool exits?" he suggested.

  "Can you send me an army?"

  "No."

  "Then forget it. She was a student here, remember? Last year a bunch ofour students smuggled the stuffed restructured mastodon out and left itin the back garden of the mayor of Ceyce, just for laughs. Too manyexits. And Trigger was a trickier monkey than most that way, when shefelt like it. She'll fade out of here whenever she wants to."

  "It's those damn tube portal systems!" said Quillan, with feeling. "Mostgruesome invention that ever hit the tailing profession." He sighed."You win, Mihul! The Commissioner isn't in at the moment. But whether hegets in or not, I'll have someone over today to pick her up. Matter offact, I'll come along myself."

  "Good for you, boy!" Mihul said relievedly. "Did you get anything out ofyesterday's grabbers?"

  "A little. 'Get her, don't harm her' were their instructions. Otherwiseit was like with those other slobs. A hole in the head where the realinfo should be. But at least we know for sure now that someone isspecifically after Argee. The price was kind of interesting."

  "What was it?"

  "Flat half million credits."

  Mihul whistled. "Poor Trigger!"

  "Well, nobody's very likely to earn the money."

  "I hope not. She's a good kid. All right, Major. Signing off now."

  "Hold on a minute," said Quillan. "You asked a while ago if the girl hadgone ta-ta."

  "So I did," Mihul said, surprised. "You didn't say. I figured it wasagainst security."

  "It probably is," Quillan admitted. "Everything seems to be, right now.I've given up trying to keep up with that. Anyway--I don't know that shehas. Neither does the Commissioner. But he's worried. And Argee has adate she doesn't know about with the Psychology Service, four days fromnow."

  "The eggheads?" Mihul was startled. "What do they want with her?"

  "You know," Quillan remarked reflectively, "that's odd! They didn'tthink to tell me."

  "Why are you letting me know?" Mihul asked.

  "You'll find out, doll," he said.

  * * * * *

  The U-League guard leaning against the wall opposite the portal snappedto attention as it opened. Trigger stepped out. He gave her a fineflourish of a salute.

  "Good morning, Miss Farn."

  "Morning," Trigger said. She flashed him a smile. "Did the mail get in?"

  "Just twenty minutes ago."

  She nodded, smiled again and walked past him to her office. She alwaysgot along fine with cops of almost any description, and these Leagueboys were extraordinarily pleasant and polite. They were also, she'dnoticed, a remarkably muscled group.

  She locked the office door behind her--part of the Plasmoid Project'selaborate security precautions--went over to her mail file and found itempty. Which meant that whatever had come in was purely routine andalready being handled by her skeleton office staff. Later in the day shemight get a chance to scrawl Ruya Farn's signature on a few dozenletters and checks. Big job! Trigger sat down at her desk.

  She brooded there a minute or two, tapping her teeth with her thumbnail.The Honorable Precolonial Commissioner Tate, whatever else might be saidof him, undoubtedly was one of the brainiest little characters she'dever come across. He probably saw some quite valid reason for keepingher here, isolated and uninformed. The question was what the reasoncould be.

  Security.... Trigger wrinkled her nose. Security didn't mean a thing.Everybody and everything associated with the Old Galactic plasmoids hadbeen wrapped up in Federation security measures since the day theplasmoid discovery was announced. And she'd been in the middle of theoperations concerning them right along. Why should Holati Tate haveturned secretive on her now? When even blabby old Plemponi could contacthim.

  It was more than a little annoying....

  Trigger shrugged, reached into a desk drawer and took out a smallsolidopic. She set it on the desk and regarded it moodily.

&nbs
p; The face of an almost improbably handsome young man looked back at her.Startling dark-blue eyes; a strong chin, curly brown hair. There was agleam of white teeth behind the quick, warm smile which always awoke aresponsive glow in her.

  She and Brule Inger had been the nearest thing to engaged for the lasttwo and a half years, ever since Precol sent them out together to itsproject on Manon Planet. They'd been dating before that, while they wereboth still attending the Colonial School. But now she was here, perhapsstuck here indefinitely--unless she did something about it--and Brulewas on Manon Planet. By the very fastest subspace ships the Manon Systemwas a good nine days away. For the standard Grand Commerce expressfreighter or the ordinary liner it was a solid two-months' run. Manonwas a _long_ way away!

  It was almost a month since she'd even heard from Brule. She could makeup another personal tape to him today if she felt like it. He would getit in fourteen days or so via a Federation packet. But she'd alreadysent him three without reply. Brule wasn't at all good at long distancelove-making, and she didn't blame him much. She was a little awkwardherself when it came to feeding her personal feelings into a tape.And--because of security again--there was very little else she couldfeed into it. She couldn't even let Brule know just where she was.

  She put the solido back in its drawer, reached for one of the bank ofbuttons on the right side of the desk and pushed it down. A desk panelslid up vertically in front of her, disclosing a news viewer switched tothe index of current headlines.

  Trigger glanced over the headlines, while a few items dissolved slowlyhere and there and were replaced by more recent developments. Under the"Science" heading a great deal seemed to be going on, as usual, inconnection with plasmoid experiments around the Hub.

  She dialed in the heading, skimmed through the first item that appeared.Essentially it was a summary of reports on Hubwide rumors that nobodycould claim any worthwhile progress in determining what made the OldGalactic plasmoids tick. Which, so far as Trigger knew, was quite true.Other rumors, rather unpleasant ones, were that the five hundred or soscientific groups to whom individual plasmoids had been issued by theFederation's University League actually had gained importantinformation, but were keeping it to themselves.

  The summary plowed through a few of the learned opinions andcounteropinions most recently obtained, then boiled them down to thestatement that a plasmoid might be compared to an engine whichappeared to lack nothing but an energy source. Or perhaps morecorrectly--assuming it might have an as yet unidentified energysource--a starter button. One group claimed to have virtually duplicatedthe plasmoid loaned to it by the Federation, producing a biochemicalstructure distinguishable from the Old Galactic model only by the factthat it had--quite predictably--fallen apart within hours. But plasmoidsdidn't fall apart. The specimens undergoing study had shown no signs ofdeterioration. A few still absorbed nourishment from time to time; somehad been observed to move slightly. But none could be induced tooperate. It was all very puzzling!

  It _was_ very puzzling, Trigger conceded. Back in the Manon System, whenthey had been discovered, the plasmoids were operating with highefficiency on the protein-collecting station which the mysterious OldGalactics appeared to have abandoned, or forgotten about, some hundredsof centuries ago. It was only when humans entered the base and switchedoff its mechanical operations that the plasmoids stopped working--andthen, when the switches which appeared to have kept them going wereexpectantly closed again, they had stayed stopped.

  Personally, Trigger couldn't have cared less if they never did move. Itwas nice that old Holati Tate had made an almost indecently vastfortune out of his first-discovery rights to the things, because shewas really very fond of the Commissioner when he wasn't beingirritating. But in some obscure way she found the plasmoids themselvesand the idea of unlimited plastic life which they embodied ratherappalling. However, she was in a minority there. Practically everybodyelse seemed to feel that plasmoids were the biggest improvement sincethe creation of Eve.

  She switched the viewer presently to its local-news setting and dialedin the Manon System's reference number. Keeping tab on what was going onout there had become a private little ritual of late. Occasionally sheeven picked up references to Brule Inger, who functioned nowadays asPrecol's official greeter and contact man in the system. He was verypopular with the numerous important Hub citizens who made the long runout to the Manon--some bent on getting a firsthand view of the marvelsof Old Galactic science, and a great many more bent on getting an earlystake in the development of Manon Planet, which was rapidly approachingthe point where its status would shift from Precol Project to FederationTerritory, opening it to all qualified comers.

  Today there was no news about Brule. Grand Commerce had opened its firstbusiness and recreation center on Manon, not ten miles from the PrecolHeadquarters dome where Trigger recently had been working. The subspacenet which was being installed about the Old Galactic base was verynearly completed. The permanent Hub population on Manon Planet had justpassed the forty-three thousand mark. There had been, Trigger recalled,a trifle nostalgically, barely eight hundred Precol employees, and notanother human being, on that world in the days before Holati Tateannounced his discovery.

  She was just letting the viewer panel slide back into the desk when theoffice ComWeb gave forth with a musical ping. She switched it on.

  "Hi, Rak!" she said cheerily. "Anything new?"

  The bony-faced young man looking out at her wore the lusterless blackuniform of a U-League Junior Scientist. His expression was worried.

  He said, "I believe there is, Miss Farn." Rak was the group leader ofthe thirty-four Junior Scientists the League had installed in theProject. Like all the Juniors, he took his duties very seriously."Unfortunately it's nothing I can discuss over a communicator. Would itbe possible for you to come over and meet with us during the day?"

  "That," Trigger stated, "was a ridiculous question, Rak! Want me overright now?"

  He grinned. "Thanks, Miss Farn! In twenty minutes then? I'll get myadvisory committee together and we can meet in the little conferenceroom off the Exhibition Hall."

  Trigger nodded. "I'll be wandering around the Hall. Just send a guardout to get me when you're ready."