"Has he said anything?"
"No. He's scared. If he could get up the courage, he'd ask for a personnel lawyer."
"Yes, I imagine. Tell him this then—from the Commissioner; not from me—there'll be no charges, but Precol expects his resignation, end of the month."
"That on the level?" Doctor Leehaven demanded incredulously.
"Of course."
The doctor snorted. "You people are getting soft-headed! But I'll tell him."
The morning went on. Trigger was suspiciously studying a traffic control note stating that a Devagas missionary ship had checked in and berthed at the spaceport when the G C Center's management called in to report, with some nervousness, that the Center's much advertised meteor-repellent roof had just flipped several dozen tons of falling Moon Belt material into the spaceport area. Most of it, unfortunately, had dropped around and upon a Devagas missionary ship.
"Not damaged, is it?" she asked.
The Center said no, but the Missionary Captain insisted on speaking to the person in charge here. To whom should they refer him?
"Refer him to me," Trigger said expectantly. She switched on the vision screen.