"Or at least erase everything on the cards inside," Bronski said. For a moment he peered closely at the edge of the box, angling it toward the light. Then, with a shrug, he handed it back to Kolchin—

And suddenly the brigadier's flechette pistol was in his hand, pointed at Cavanagh's chest. "I'll take your gun, Kolchin," he said quietly. "Yours too, Cavanagh. Pull them out—two fingers only, please—and set them down on the floor. Then step back against the wall."

Cavanagh looked at Kolchin, found the bodyguard looking back at him, and shook his head. "I thought we'd moved beyond this phase," he said to Bronski, pulling his flechette pistol out as instructed and lowering it to the floor.

"Maybe you did," Bronski said, waiting until the two of them were standing against the storage-room wall before crouching down and retrieving their weapons. "I didn't. Like I told you on Mra-mig, I can't afford to trust you to keep your mouths shut."

Cavanagh felt his stomach muscles tighten. "What does that mean?"

"That part's up to you," Bronski said. "Cooperate, and you'll sit out the war with Taurin Lee and your man Hill for company. Don't cooperate, and we may have to arrange a more permanent kind of silence."

Cavanagh glanced at Kolchin. Back on Mra-mig, the young bodyguard had managed to get the drop on Bronski. If he could do so again...

"And if I were you, I wouldn't count on Kolchin pulling any more rabbits out of his hat," Bronski continued, as if reading Cavanagh's train of thought. "He got lucky on Mra-mig. He won't get lucky again."

"Peacekeeper commandos make their own luck, Brigadier," Kolchin said softly. "That was my drill instructor's favorite saying."

"Really," Bronski said. "My DI's favorite was that luck scales directly to experience... and for the record I had three times as many years in the commandos as you did. I suggest you think about that."

"So what happens now?" Cavanagh asked.

"Three things," Bronski said. "One: you finally get that other cuff attached to Kolchin's wrist. Two: I whistle up some Peacekeepers from the Myrmidon Platform to pick up the Mrachani and any Bhurtala who are still worth picking up. And three"—his mouth tightened—"we head back to my ship and try to open that box."

"As it happened, it was all pretty straightforward," Kolchin said. "Bhurtala might be fast in the long stretch, but they can't change direction worth anything. I just pulled over one of those garbage bins in front of him; and when he came leaping over it, I ducked under him and headed out the other end of the alley." He smiled tightly. "Just in time to almost run square into the other two as they came around the corner."

"That must have been thrilling," Cavanagh said, trying hard to keep his mind on Kolchin's story instead of on the flat box Bronski was working on two meters away from where he and Kolchin sat wristcuffed to wall mounts. The almost certainly booby-trapped flat box...

"It was a boost to the heart, all right," Kolchin said. "And I thought I was in for some fancy footwork to get past them. But they kept going into the alley, following the Bhurt I'd just ducked out on. They must have been wired for sound and gotten orders to follow you two instead of me."

"Though that doesn't mean they wouldn't have stomped you if it hadn't meant going out of their way," Bronski put in.

"You just concentrate on that box," Cavanagh told him. "Kolchin can handle the story without footnotes."

"Don't get testy," Bronski said. "I'm already past the tricky stuff."

"Anyway, I knew I wasn't going to catch up with them," Kolchin continued before Cavanagh could reply. "Even if I did, I didn't have anything to stop them with. I figured that whoever had set the trap was probably inside Bokamba's house, so I headed there."

Cavanagh nodded. "And ran straight into another Bhurt and a Mrachani."

"Actually, the Bhurt had already been run over," Kolchin said. "Piltariab's new friends had just finished taking him down and were lining up to have a go at the Mrachani." He shook his head. "Three Avuirli against a Bhurt. I wish I'd been in time to see that one."

"Be thankful you weren't," Bronski said, straightening up from his work and flexing his fingers. "That exotic scent the Avuirli had—you could still smell it when we got back—is the aromotional cue of Avuirlian fulkumu rage, probably the coldest anger you'll ever see anywhere. They knew the Mrachani had used diargulates on Piltariab and were ready to take him apart in retribution. Him and anyone who got in their way."

"Interesting," Kolchin murmured. "I'm rather surprised they stopped when I asked them to."

"I doubt they cared one way or the other what you wanted," Bronski told him dryly. "It was probably Piltariab who got them to stop after you suggested it. I'm not sure he even knows now what all the fuss was about. The point is that if you ever smell that cue again, make exhaust the other direction."

"We appreciate the biology lesson," Cavanagh said icily, nodding toward the box. "Now, would you kindly get on with your job?"

"I'm done," Bronski said mildly. Reaching to the box, he touched the release—

And the box popped open.

Cavanagh exhaled a long breath. "Was it booby-trapped?"

"Six ways from April," Bronski confirmed, peering into the box and pulling out three cards. "Let's see what we've got here...."

He slid one of the cards into his plate and spent a few minutes scrolling through various parts. "Interesting reading?" Cavanagh asked.

"Somewhat," Bronski said, pulling the card out and replacing it with the second. "That one was a list of dossiers on about fifty retired Peacekeeper officers of your acquaintance, along with complete data on their current homes. And I mean complete data: climate and terrain profiles, macro- and microcultural information listings, city and sector maps—the whole list. Must be a whole lot of Mrachanis scattered around the Commonwealth waiting for you to show up. Probably with a lot of Bhurtala to keep them company."

"I'd wondered how they managed to pinpoint Granparra," Kolchin murmured. "I guess they didn't."

"No, this group was just the lucky one," Bronski said, studying his plate. "Or not, depending on your point of view. Well, well. This one looks like a complete breakdown of CavTronics Industries, including listings for all manufacturing plants, R-and-D stations, sales outlets, and transport vessels. Plus dossiers on all your top management personnel."

Cavanagh swallowed hard. If he and Kolchin had followed their original plan of going directly home to Avon... "They must want me pretty bad."

"It's starting to look that way," Bronski agreed, inserting the third card into his plate. "You know, Cavanagh, I didn't put much stock in that Mrach conspiracy theory you spun for me on the way from Phormbi to Mra-mig. That whole idea of a quiet Mrach war against the rest of the universe sounded too much like a Yycroman smoke screen. But I'll admit it's starting to look more and more like the little furballs are sneakier than they like to appear...."

He trailed off, his forehead wrinkling as he frowned at the plate. "What is it?" Cavanagh asked.

"It's some kind of update," Bronski said, his voice suddenly tight. "Projected timetables for two operations. Mirnacheem-hyeea One and Mirnacheem-hyeea Two."

A cold knot formed in Cavanagh's stomach. "That's the Mrach name for the Conquerors," he said. "Or at least that's where we got the name Conquerors from."

"Yeah, I know," Bronski said, still frowning.

"Where are they supposed to take place?" Kolchin asked.

"The locations are coded," Bronski said. "Looks like they both have the same jump-off point, though, somewhere in Mrach space. Wait a second."