We Few

He shrugged, and Catrone nodded. Not so much in agreement as in acceptance. Roger nodded back, then returned his attention to Tebic.

"On the Moonbase net," he said. "Add: Get Brailowsky."

"Got it."

"You sure about that?" Catrone asked. "Security is going to be monitoring."

"Let them," said the prince who'd fought his way halfway around a planet. "We don't leave our people. Ever."

"We need one more thing," Roger said. It was a clear Saturday in October, the first day of the Imperial Festival. A day when the weather computers knew damned well to make sure the weather in Imperial City was perfect. Clear, crisp, and beautiful, the sun just below the horizon in Imperial City. The Day. Roger was staring unseeingly at the schematic of the Palace, fingering the skintight black suit that was worn under armor.

"Yeah, backup," Catrone said, looking at the plan one more time. It was going to be tight, especially with the Bad Guys expecting it. And they were all tired. They'd intended to get some sleep before the mission kicked off, but what with last-minute details and moving it up...

"No, I was talking about Nimashet," Roger said, and swallowed. "They're going to kill her the moment your team hits."

"Not if they think it's the cops," Catrone pointed out. "They're not going to want a dead body on their hands on top of everything else. I'm more worried about Adoula killing your mother, Roger. And you should be, too."

"We can't count on that," Roger said, ignoring the jab. "Remember what Subianto said about Siminov—a polished mad-dog, remember? And as much as you say your team is the best of the best, they're not my best. And my best, Mr. Catrone, is pretty damned good. And I do know one person I can count on."

"We don't need another complication," Catrone said.

"You'll like this one," Roger said, and gri

Pedi Karuse liked to dress up. She especially liked the variety available on Old Earth, and she'd decided on a nice gold-blonde dress that matched the color of her horns. It had been fitted by a very skilled seamstress—she'd had to be to figure out how to design a dress for a pregnant Mardukan that didn't look decidedly odd. Pedi had matched it off with a pair of sandals that clearly revealed the fact that Mardukans had talons instead of nails on their feet. The talons were painted pink, to match the ones on her fingers. Her horns had also been expertly polished only a few hours before, by a very nice Pinopan woman named Mae Su, who normally did manicures. Humans had all sorts of dyes and colors, but she'd stayed with blonde this time. She was considering dying them red, since one of the humans said she was a natural redhead personality, whatever that meant. But for now, she was a blonde.

There was the problem of Mardukan temperature regulation, of course. In general, they had none. Mardukans were defined by Doc Dobrescu, who'd become the preeminent (if more or less unknown) authority on Mardukan physiology, as "damned near as cold-blooded as a toad." Toads, by and large, do not do well on cold mornings in October in Imperial City. Most of the Mardukans dealt with this by wearing environment suits, but they were so... utilitarian.

Pedi dealt with this sartorial dilemma—and the frigid environment—in several ways. First, she'd been studying dinshon exercises with Cord since she'd first met him. Dinshon was a discipline Cord's people used to control their internal temperature, a form of homeopathic art. Part of it was herbal, but most of it was a mental discipline. It could help in the Mardukan Mountains, where the temperatures often dropped to what humans considered "pleasant" and Mardukans considered "freezing." Given that this particular morning was what humans considered "freezing," Mardukans didn't even have a fitting descriptive phrase short of "some sort of icy Hell."

Dinshon exercises could help her manage even this bitter cold, but only for a few minutes. So she'd come up with some additional refinements.

Around her wrists—all four—and ankles, she had tight leather bands, with a matching collar around her neck. The accouterments made her look something like a Krath Servant of the Flame, which wasn't remotely a pleasant association, but the important part was that the bands covered heat strips that were hot enough to be on the edge of burning. More strips covered her belly and packed around the developing fetuses on her back.

Withthose and the dinshon exercises, she should be good for a couple of hours. And no icky, unfashionable environment suit.

All in all, she looked to be in the very height of style, if you ignored the slight reflection from the poly-saccharide mucoid coating on her skin, as she stepped daintily out of the airtaxi and pranced up to the front door of the Caepio Neighborhood Association Headquarters.

"My name is Pedi Karuse," she said in her best Imperial, nodding at the two men. One of them was almost as tall as she was. If she'd been wearing heels, she would have towered over even him, but he was big... for a human. "I'm here to see Mr. Siminov. I'm aware that he's in."

"The Boss don't talk to any scummy walk-in off the street," the shorter of the two said. "Get lost."

"Tell him I'm an emissary from Mr. Chung," Pedi said, doing her best to smile. It wasn't a natural expression for Mardukans, with their limited facial muscles, and it came out as more of a grimace. "And he'd really like to speak to me. It's important. To him."

The guard spoke into his throat mike and waited, then nodded.

"Somebody's coming," he said. "You wait here."

"Of course," Pedi said, and giggled. "It's not like we're going to wander around back, is it?"

"Not with a scummy," the bigger guard said with a scowl.

"You never know till you try it," Pedi said, and wiggled her hips. It was another no

The person who came to the door was wearing a suit. It looked badly tailored, but that was probably the body under it. Pedi had seen pictures of a terrestrial creature called a "gorilla," and this guy looked as if he'd just fallen out of the tree... and hit his head on the way down.

"Come on," the gorilla look-alike said, opening the door and stepping aside. "The Boss is just up. He hasn't even had his coffee. He hates to be kept waiting when he hasn't had his coffee."

There was a loud buzz as Pedi stopped into the corridor, and the gorilla scowled ferociously.

"Hold it!" he said, surprise and menace warring in his voice. "You got weapons."

"Well, of course I've got weapons," Pedi said, giggling again as three more men stepped into the corridor. "I'm dressed, aren't I?"

"You got to hand them over," the gorilla said with the expression of someone who'd never understood jokes, anyway.

"What?" Pedi asked. "All of them?"

"All of 'em," the gorilla growled.

"Well, all right," Pedi sighed. "But the Boss is going to be waiting for some time, then."

She reached through the upper slits on her dress and drew out two swords. They were short for a Mardukan, which made them about as long as a cavalry sabre, and similarly curved. She flipped them and offered the hilts to the gorilla.

When he'd taken those, she started pulling out everything else. Two curved daggers, the size of human short swords. A punch-dagger on the inside of either thigh. Two daggers at the neck, and two more secreted in various spots that required a certain amount of reaching. Last, she handed over four sets of brass knuckles, a cosh, and four rolls of Imperial quarter-credits.

"That's it?" the gorilla asked, his arms full.

"Well..." She reached up and under her skirt and withdrew a long punch-stiletto. It was slightly sticky. "Now that's it. My father would kill me for handing them over so tamely, too.