"Doing all right," Quillan said. "She sends her regards and says a little less heft on the next solar plexus you torpedo should be good enough."
Trigger flushed. "She isn't sore, is she?"
"Not the way you mean," he considered. "Not many people have jumped Mihul successfully. In her cockeyed way, she seemed pretty proud of her student."
Trigger felt the flush deepen. "I got her off her guard," she said.
"Obviously," said Quillan. "In any ordinary argument she could pull your legs off and tie you up with them. Still, that wasn't bad. Have you talked to anybody since you came on board?"
"Just the room stewardess. And a couple of old ladies in the next cabin."
"Yeah," he said. "Couple of old ladies. What did you talk about?"
Trigger recounted the conversation. He reflected, nodded and stood up.
"I put a couple of suitcases in that closet over there," he said. "Your personal stuff is in them, de-tracered. Another thing—somebody checked over your finances and came to the conclusion you're broke."
"Not exactly broke," said Trigger.