Admiral Stonefist sat in his empty office and read the report again, with no small amount of satisfaction. Overall, he was very pleased with the arrest of Rax Daggoth. According to the report, Rax was cooperating with the investigation.

  It disappointed Grimthorn a little that Rax wouldn't be dragged in to talk with the Cryptographers. He recognized, though, that disappointment was just a reflection of his personal desire for retribution manifesting itself.

  In any case, he was sure all the relevant information would end up in the Cryptographers' hands in due time, and the Cryptographers would get him names. They'd get him the name he really wanted: the head of the conspiracy.

  If he had that name, he would bring the full might and fury of the Imperium down on the traitor. Admiral Stonefist would make the traitor's name a warning, spoken in hushed tones for a hundred years, something to weaken the knees of anyone who ever again thought of betraying the Imperium.

  Maybe that's why the Cryptographers kept some of their information from him.

  He pushed aside thoughts of vengeance. He had something else to finish. He pulled out his scanner. He pursed his lips and paused only a moment before pressing the button to connect.

  The scanner beeped quietly. It beeped for a long time. Grimthorn frowned. It was unusual for Dass not to answer.

  Perhaps he was busy with one of his schemes. Grimthorn reached out to end the call when it connected unexpectedly.

  "Hey hey, Grimthorn my man," came Dass' voice through the scanner.

  Grimthorn's eyebrows rose. Dass' voice was weak, ill-formed.

  "Dass. Are you okay?"

  "Good, I'm good." A quiet burbling sounded in the background. "I'm glad you called. It's good to hear from you. How are you doing?"

  "I'm doing well. I called... Well, I want to thank you. For the information, and for eliminating the Lutrin spy. Kinnit told me about what you did. Because of your information, we were able to cross-reference money flows around Techterra. We arrested Rax Daggoth this morning. We're on the verge of eliminating this conspiracy, and you had a part in that, and-- and I wanted to thank you. And to apologize. I was, perhaps, a bit harsh when we last spoke. I'm sorry."

  "Hey, it's no worry," Dass said. "No worry at all."

  "Anyway, I wanted to let you know about Rax, in case that helps your... 'projects.'"

  "Oh, that's great, thanks." There was a long pause. "Just so you know, I'm not doing field work any more."

  "Oh? Retirement? I didn't think you were the type."

  "Ah, I'm not. Not really." Another awkwardly long pause, as though Dass were struggling with something to say. Finally he spoke.

  "Grimthorn, I'm dying."

  "What? How? Mucilageans don't die."

  "Ah, yeah, it was the fight with Koro. I got a little sloppy, and he managed to embed a nugget of hydroflux in me. It's unbinding the proteins in my fluid. It's a progressive denaturing surfactant-- ah, look, just think of it like a poison for Mucilageans."

  Grimthorn stood up at his desk.

  "Do you need treatment? Can we get you something?"

  A bubbling cough came through the line.

  "I appreciate the thought, but there really isn't any treatment. I got the hydroflux out, but the damage has been done. It's a chemical chain reaction. My corrupted fluid is attacking new fluid as soon as it's produced. There's no way to stop it."

  Grimthorn hung his head.

  "Is there anything I can do for you?"

  "Hey hey, don't get sentimental on me. We both knew I'd come to a bad end someday. I just wanted to let somebody know. I... I don't want to dry up and vanish without anybody knowing." Another wet sound. "Grimthorn, you've been a good friend to me all these years. I-- I'm sorry about what I did to Kinnit. You were right, I should have talked to you. I wish I had."

  "Dass." Grimthorn's mouth opened, but he couldn't find anything to say.

  "Don't worry, my man. You keep doing your thing. Save the galaxy. You're good at it. Anyway, I gotta run. You have a good life, and take care of Kinnit."

  The line disconnected. Grimthorn stared at the silent scanner, his eyes moist. He slowly sat down.

  He put his head in his hands and sat quietly at his desk for a long time.

  Kinnit bounced into the mess hall. It was after hours, but she was too energized to sleep. She fetched a cup of coffee and sat at one of the tables. She peeked around into the kitchen and saw Lucy tidying up.

  "Lucy! Hi!"

  The Velspyn server smiled and wiped down her pincers.

  "Hey, hon! Give me a second, I'll be right out."

  "Yep!" Kinnit giggled to herself. "I'm not in a hurry!"

  "Did you want a little something to eat? We still have some sandwiches back here."

  "Okay! That would be great!"

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  Lucy looked out and raised an eyebrow. Never once in her entire career had she ever heard leftover Navy sandwiches referred to as "great."

  After a few minutes, she emerged, and set a sandwich in front of Kinnit. The little Kobold snatched it up and took a big bite. Lucy chuckled and sat across from her.

  "Well you're full of spunk this evening. What's got you so perky?"

  "Nothing!" Kinnit chirped. "I'm just happy to be here!"

  "Hon, you're glowing like a reactor core. You can't tell me nothing's going on."

  Kinnit giggled.

  "Okay. Okay." She looked around, but the mess hall was empty except for Lucy and herself. "I shouldn't say anything, but I've been absolutely busting at the seams." She drew out a locket from under her jacket and showed it to Lucy. "Grimthorn proposed to me! And he gave me this! Isn't it great?"

  Lucy looked at the locket.

  "Oh, hon, that's wonderful! I'm so happy for you!" She quirked a sly smile. "I'm a little surprised you've captured our sour old Admiral so completely."

  Kinnit laughed with delight.

  "He's not sour! He's just a big, grumpy teddy bear."

  Lucy raised a skeptical eyebrow. Literally nobody else in the Imperium would ever refer to Admiral Stonefist that way.

  "Look, you can't tell anyone, okay?" Kinnit continued. "You have to promise me. We're still figuring out how to make it work. Until then, it could be dangerous for us, you know."

  Lucy paused. On the one hand, she recognized the need for discretion here. As happy as the occasion might be, there was a raft of laws and regulations that their engagement violated. On the other hand, Lucy recognized what she herself was: the biggest gossip on the ship possibly in the Ninth Fleet. And this was the magnum opus of gossip.

  "Promise me!" Kinnit demanded.

  "I... I will, hon. Now let me see that necklace again, and tell me all about his proposal."

  The nice thing about having more limbs than most species was that is was easy to keep your digits out of sight when you had them crossed.

  Admiral Stonefist, Kinnit, and Lieutenant Baric sat in the office the following day, working. Admiral Stonefist's console beeped with the distinct sound of a new priority message.

  Kinnit perked up and paused her work. A priority message usually meant "drop everything and do this instead."

  Grimthorn glared at the screen as he read the message. Then his face sagged and he turned slightly gray. He pushed back from his desk and stood.

  "Sir?" Kinnit said. "What's wrong?"

  "Come with me Kinnit. We need to prepare. The Imperial Office got back with me to schedule our audience with the Emperor."

  "Oh, okay. Oh!" Kinnit scrambled to her feet. "So soon?"

  "I thought it would take months, at best, to get an audience. I just got notice. We're scheduled for..." he glanced at his screen. "Day after tomorrow."

  Kinnit swallowed.

  "Come, Kinnit. We need to drill you on court protocol. There's a lot."

  They swept out of the office, leaving Sol behind.

  For once, Lieutenant Sol Baric was glad to be the odd man out.

  "I hope you don't think you have jurisdiction here," Chief Roeder said.

  "I don't even know what that word means," said Sergeant Charr flippantly. "We're just here in case he gets frisky."

  Jendi Roeder, Chief of Police of Techterra Protection Force, stood straight, flanked by six of his officers.

  "I appreciate the Imperial Navy's support," he said, "but this is Techterra business. You aren't required here."

  Sergeant Charr sneered. He'd only been working with Techterra police for a few hours, and what little good humor he'd had was already scraped away.

  "If you don't want me here, take it up with the Commander of CenCom. I take orders from the Navy, not from you."

  Roeder stiffened.

  "I don't need a bunch of exosuited meatheads getting in the way. It's urban interior. You guys just stay outside. You won't have room to maneuver in there."

  "We make room, if we need it," Charr said, flexing the long, wickedly clawed fingers of his exosuit.

  Roeder scoffed and turned away from the Marine. He spoke into his scanner.

  "All units, are we in position?" Affirmatives came from all quarters. "Good. Everyone be careful. Don't let Senn Sehren's background as a media man lull you into a false sense of security. He's a dangerous conspirator, unhinged. There's no telling how he'll react. I want him apprehended in as few pieces as we can manage. One, for preference."

  General agreement circled the comms channels.

  "All right, let's load up and move out."

  Everyone piled into their respective vehicles. The Marines loaded into an APC, and the police into their squad vehicles.

  They'd staged up only a few blocks away, just far enough away to be out of sight. The key to this operation was going to be surprise.

  The fleet of vehicles swept in, screeching to a halt around a luxury high-rise. Helicopters swept in overhead. Police boiled out of the squad cars.

  "Follow the plan!" cried Chief Roeder. "Squads A and B, up the elevators, C and D up the stairs! Floor 36! Let's nab him before he even knows we're there!"

  "Marines!" Sergeant Charr called. "Dismount!"

  A dozen exosuited Marines unfolded themselves from their vehicle. In their suits they stood nearly eight feet tall.

  "Activate hoverpacks!"

  Flames of jet roared from behind each Marine. With a series of hops, they leapt into the air, their hoverpacks carrying them high into the dry air of Techterra.

  "Let's support the squishies!" Sergeant Charr yelled into his radio.

  The squad of marines took flight, aiming for the corner penthouse atop the building.

  Within the building, officers quickly filled both elevators to capacity. One of the officers activated the priority override. The elevators rose in sync as the other squads began clambering up the stairs.

  Helicopters circled overhead, watching the roof. The Marines arrived at the 36th floor first. They hovered outside, bracketing the penthouse, gazing in through the windows that wrapped the apartment.

  "Anybody have eyes on the primary?" Charr called.

  "Nothing yet, sir," came the reply.

  "Be ready to catch him if he decides to take a dive. Private Jansen, get your thermals on. See if you can find a heat signature in there."

  "Yes, sir!"

  The officers in the elevators were crammed in tight. They wanted to get as many police up in the elevators as they could, since it would be the quickest way up the interior of the building.

  The elevators slowed, the numbers overhead slowly ticking to a stop at 34. One of the officers repeatedly punched the button.

  "C'mon," he said. "We need to get to the 36th!"

  Outside, Private Jansen reported back.

  "Sir! No biologicals found, but there is one mother of a heat source in there! It's getting hotter!"

  Sergeant Charr's face dropped. The world slowed for him.

  "Nucleobaric bomb! Back! Back! Get back!" Sergeant Charr screamed.

  The Marines spun to get away, and the top floor of the apartment building erupted in a shattering explosion. A blastwave of energy wiped the top floor of the building clean off. A rolling ball of white flame followed, momentarily brighter than the daytime sun of Techterra.

  The flying Marines were engulfed in the fireball. The pressure of the explosion fired the two elevator cars back down their shafts like bullets in a gun barrel.

  Chief Roeder jerked in shock as he watched the top of the building vanish, along with his dreams of making the biggest arrest of his career.

  Sehren Senn sat in a coffeeshop miles away. In spite of the heat of the day, he was in a long coat and a hat with a wide, floppy brim. The rest of the patrons rushed outside to see the explosion. Senn sat and frowned sourly.

  "Fools," he muttered to the backs of the crowd. "You're all food. Just food." He stood and threw his coffee cup in the trash. "That's all any of you are good for."

  He walked out of the coffee shop and headed for a bus to take him to Duskwind. It would be easier to slip away unseen from a spaceport out there.

  Techterra was getting boring anyway. It was time for him to head out to where the action was.