"And the number of planetary confederacies, subplanetary governments, industrial, financial and commercial combines, assorted power groups, etc. and so on, is something I'd hate to have to calculate."
"What are you driving at?" she asked.
"They've all been told we're heading for a new golden age, courtesy of the plasmoid science. Practically everybody has believed it. Now there's considerable doubt."
"Oh," she said. "Of course—practically everybody is going to get very unhappy, eh?"
"That," said Commissioner Tate, "is only a little of it."
"Yes, the thing isn't just lost. Somebody's got it."
"Very likely."
Trigger nodded. "Fayle's ship might have got wrecked accidentally, of course. But the way he took off shows he planned to disappear—a crack-up on top of that would be too much of a coincidence. So any one of umpteen thousands of organizations in the Hub might be the one that has that plasmoid now!"
"Including," said Holati, "any one of the two hundred and fourteen restricted worlds. Their treaties of limitation wouldn't have let them get into the plasmoid pie until the others had been at it a decade or so. They would have been quite eager...."
There was a little pause. Then Trigger said, "Lordy! The thing could even set off another string of wars—"