"The crazy things claim now it was a plasmoid," Quillan said, "Revolting notion! But it makes some sense for once. Checks with some of the things Lyad just told us, too. Do you remember that Vethi sponge Balmordan was carrying?"
"Yes."
"It didn't come off the ship with him. He checked it out as having died en route."
"That is a revolting notion!" Trigger said after a moment. "Well, at least we've got detectors now."
But the feeling of security had faded somewhat again.
Before dinner was half over, the long-range transmitters abruptly came to life. For the next thirty minutes or so, messages rattled in incessantly, as assorted Headquarters here and there reacted to the Ermetyne's report. The Commissioner sat in the little office and sorted over the incoming information. Trigger stayed at the transmitters, feeding it to him as it arrived. None of it affected them directly—they were already headed for the point in space a great many other people would now start heading for very soon.
Then business dropped off again almost as suddenly as it had picked up. A half dozen low priority items straggled in, in as many minutes. The transmitters purred idly. Then the person-to-person buzzer sounded.
Trigger punched the screen button. A voice pronounced the ship's dial number.
"Acknowledging," Trigger said. "Who is it?"
"Orado ComWeb Center," said the voice. "Stand by for contact with Federation Councilman Roadgear."