"But you saw it, didn't you?" Trigger asked, trying to look back to the small open door into the storerooms they'd just passed.
Quillan sighed. "Certainly," he said. "Guy in space armor."
"But what's he doing there?"
"Checking something, I suppose." His hand left her shoulder; and, for just a moment, his finger rested lightly across her lips. Trigger glanced up at him. He was walking on beside her, not looking at her.
All right, she thought—she could take a hint. But she felt tense and uncomfortable now. Something was going on again, apparently.
They turned into the side passage and came up to her cabin. Trigger started to turn to face him, and Quillan picked her up and went on without a noticeable break in his stride. Close to her ear, his voice whispered, "Explain in a moment! Dangerous here."
As the door to the end cabin closed behind them, he put her back on her feet. He looked at his watch.
"We can talk here," he said. "But there may not be much time for conversation." He gestured toward a table against the wall. "Take a look at the setup."
Trigger looked. The table was littered with instruments, like an electronic workbench. A visual screen showed a view of both her own cabin and a section of the passage outside it, up to the point where it entered the big hall.
"What is it?" she asked uncertainly.