After this, there might have been a pause. She seemed to be floating up out of a small pool of sleep when Lyad's voice said somewhere, with cold fury in it: "There's nothing inside?"
A whole little series of memory-pictures popped up suddenly then, like a chain of firecrackers somebody had set off. They formed themselves into a pattern; and there the pattern was in Trigger's mind. She looked at it. Her eyes flew open in surprise. She began to laugh weakly.
Light footsteps came quickly over to her. "Where is that plasmoid, Trigger?"
The Ermetyne was in a fine, towering rage. She'd better say something.
"Ask the Commissioner," she said, mumbling a little.
"It's wearing off, First Lady," said Flam. "Shall I?"
Trigger's thoughts went eddying away for a moment, and she didn't hear Lyad's reply. But then the vanilla smell was there again, and the thin icy touches. This time, they stopped abruptly, halfway.
And then there was a very odd stillness all around Trigger. As if everybody and everything had stopped moving together.
A deep, savage voice said, "I hope there'll be no trouble, folks. I just want her a lot worse than you do."
Trigger frowned in puzzlement. Next came an angry roar, some thumping sounds, a sudden crack.