"This is Assistant Commonwealth Liaison Petr Bronski," Rudzinski said before the man could answer. "He works out of the Commonwealth consulate on Mra-ect. He saw Lord Cavanagh briefly on Mra-mig, and I asked him back here to see if he could shed any light on his disappearance."

"I wish I could help, Mr. Cavanagh," Bronski said. "But as I told Admiral Rudzinski earlier, I only saw your father for a few minutes in his hotel room in Mig-Ka City. There was some question about whether he was harboring a non-Mrach who was slated for deportation, and we were asked to check it out. My people and I searched his suite for the non-Mrach, found nothing, and left."

"That's interesting, Mr. Bronski," Aric said, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "What hotel did you say you spoke to him at?"

"I didn't say," Bronski said coolly. "It was the Mrapiratta Hotel."

"Yes, that's where Teva said he was staying," Aric agreed. "He also said he picked up a report on the way off-planet about a disturbance at that hotel. Gunfire, possibly even an explosion."

"An explosion?" Pheylan demanded. "You didn't tell me anything about this."

"Oh, Dad was okay," Aric assured him. "He was already outside the hotel when he phoned Teva and told him to get the Cavatina off-planet."

Rudzinski cocked an eyebrow at Bronski. "You know anything about this?"

"We had a minor altercation with a couple of Bhurtala on our way out of the hotel," Bronski said with a shrug. "Nothing serious." His lip twisted slightly. "Except, of course, that dealing with the aftermath prevented me from getting back to see Lord Cavanagh. Otherwise, I might have been able to stop whatever it was that happened to him."

"Yes," Rudzinski murmured. "Still, I doubt that Lord Cavanagh's in any real danger. Mitri Kolchin is with him, and Kolchin was one of the best to ever come out of the Peacekeeper commandos. Wherever he's gotten to, he'll come back when he's ready." He pulled a card from his inner pocket. "In the meantime, we have a war to fight."

Pheylan came to reflexive attention. "Yes, sir. Are those my orders?"

"Yes," Rudzinski said, handing him the card. "Effective immediately, you're assigned to the inspection team going over what's left of your former prison on the world we've designated Target One."

"An inspection team?" Pheylan frowned at the card as he took it. "I asked to be assigned to whatever force is scheduled to attack the Zhirrzh beachhead on Dorcas. My sister, Melinda, was caught on the ground there when they attacked."

"I'm sure your request will remain under consideration," Rudzinski said. "But first we need to know everything we can about the threat we're facing. There may be something of significance on Target One that no one but you would recognize."

Pheylan grimaced. To be shunted off to sand-sifting duty while his sister sat helplessly beneath enemy guns...

But it made sense. Unfortunately. "Understood, sir."

"Good," Rudzinski said. "Your ship leaves in two hours. Details are on the card."

"Yes, sir." Pheylan turned back to Aric. "Aric—"

"I know," Aric said. "You just watch yourself out there, okay? I don't want to have to come after you again."

"Don't worry, you won't," Pheylan said, squeezing his older brother's shoulder. "You watch yourself, too."

"Max and I will be fine," Aric assured him. "I'll see you later."

He gave Pheylan one last smile, then turned and headed for the door. Quinn and the other Copperheads, Pheylan saw, had already left the room, presumably to pick up their own orders. Perhaps sometime in the two hours before his flight he'd be able to track them down and thank them one last time for risking their lives and careers to rescue him.

After today their careers were out of danger. The same couldn't be said about their lives. Not with the Zhirrzh out there.

The Conquerors.

He took a careful breath. "With your permission, Admiral?"

"Dismissed, Commander," Rudzinski said softly. "Good luck."

The Copperheads and Aric Cavanagh had gone their various ways, Admiral Rudzinski had headed back to the war room, the three presiding officers had likewise branched off to attend to business elsewhere, and Petr Bronski had the exit door in sight when the voice he'd been both expecting and dreading came from behind him.

"A word with you, Mr. Bronski."

Bronski slowed, half turning to look over his shoulder. Parlimin Jacy VanDiver was coming toward him, the silent bodyguard who'd been sitting beside him at the hearing tagging along. "I'm in something of a hurry, Parlimin VanDiver," he said. "Is this something the Commonwealth diplomatic office on Edo can handle?"

"No," VanDiver said flatly. "It's not."

Bronski grimaced to himself. But lowly assistant Commonwealth liaisons did not simply ignore senior NorCoord political powerhouses. "Yes, sir," he said, coming to a stop.

The bodyguard was good, all right. VanDiver didn't have to say a word; the other simply stepped to the nearest door—a media communications-processing office, from the tag on the wall beside it—glanced briefly inside, then nodded to his boss. "In here, Mr. Bronski," VanDiver said, waving at the open door. "If you don't mind."

As if he had a real choice in the matter. "Yes, sir," Bronski said. Stepping past beneath the bodyguard's watchful eye, he went inside.

The office contained four cluttered desks—currently unoccupied—drawn up like beleaguered soldiers around a centralized SieTec transfer-node computer terminal. VanDiver and the bodyguard came in behind him, the latter closing the door and taking up position beside it. "Have a seat?" VanDiver invited, sitting down at one of the desks and waving Bronski to his choice of the others.

"Thank you," Bronski said, choosing a seat that put the SieTec more or less between him and the bodyguard. "I have to tell you, sir, that I'm due at the Commonwealth liaison center in thirty minutes."

"I'll make it brief," VanDiver said. "I overheard your conversation a few minutes ago with Admiral Rudzinski and the Cavanagh boys. You lied to them."

He wasn't one for shaving words, that was for sure. "That's an interesting accusation, sir."

VanDiver lifted his eyebrows. "Is that all the reaction I get? No denials or cries of indignation? No reddening of the face at such an insult to your integrity?"

Bronski sighed. "I'm a very lowly Commonwealth civil servant, Parlimin," he reminded the other. "We're not encouraged to talk back to NorCoord government officials."

VanDiver leaned back in his chair. "Yes, Taurin Lee thought that was all there was to you, too," he commented. "You remember Taurin Lee, don't you?"

"Of course, sir," Bronski said, keeping his voice steady. "Mr. Lee approached my group as we were coming into the Mrapiratta Hotel. He identified himself as your aide, showed me the NorCoord Parliament carte blanche you'd given him, and informed me he'd be joining our meeting with Lord Cavanagh."

"And after that meeting?"

"As I told Admiral Rudzinski, we ran into trouble with some Bhurtala," Bronski said. "By the time we'd settled the matter with the Mrach authorities, Lord Cavanagh and his people had left Mra-mig."

"And Lee?"

Bronski spread his hands. "I really don't know. He left us while we were discussing the incident with the Mrach authorities."

VanDiver didn't move, but suddenly there was frost in the air. "That's a lie, Bronski," he said coldly. "Lee was with you when you chased Cavanagh to the Yycroman world of Phormbi. I have a skitter report from him from Mra-mig telling me you'd all be leaving within the hour."

Silently, Bronski bit down on the inside of his cheek. He would have sworn that Lee hadn't had a single chance during their time together to sneak any kind of message off to anyone. Apparently, the man was sharper than he'd realized. "With all due respect, Parlimin, I don't know what you're talking about," he told VanDiver, putting a slightly uncertain earnestness in his tone. "Perhaps he'd planned to join us for our trip, but if he did, he never talked to me about doing so."