Blackcollar: The Blackcollar

But the Ryqril were already gu

ing for him... and it occurred to Caine that if the formula for the Backlash drug existed anywhere anymore it was probably on Earth. A worthwile target to go after—possibly even more valuable than five Nova-class ships, in the right hands. And Caine had a pretty good idea whose hands those would be. "All right, you're on," he told Lathe's silhouette. "Just make sure I can get back to Earth after my training—and remember that I'll need a supply of that anti-asthma drug while I'm on Plinry."

"No problem," Lathe said without hesitation. "I've already ordered the lab to mix up a truckload of the stuff for you."

Caine stared at him. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you? What if I'd said no?"

"Then I'd be stuck with a truckload of histrophyne," the other said. "But I thought you'd say yes. We're a lot alike, you know, you and I." He stood up and moved toward the door. "Your first class is tomorrow at nine o'clock in the aft ready room; see you there." The door slid open and closed and he was gone.

For a moment Caine gazed after him, feeling the warmth of the other's compliment. A lot like Lathe, was he? High praise indeed—and he was going to do his damnedest to live up to it.

Looking up at the stars, he smiled wryly. The Ryqril didn't know it yet, but they were in big trouble.