Vision of the future

'They're not all that popular, really,' the woman said. Her voice was casual, but she was watching him as closely as Green Eyes was. 'They're small and agile, with tan-striped fur and retractable claws. They're sometimes used as livestock border guards in mountainous terrain.'

'Oh, sure,' Klif called from the far side of the counter. Leaning casually on it, there was no sign of the datapad he undoubtedly had going out of sight under the flat surface. 'You're talking about Kordulian krisses.'

'Oh—Kordulian krisses,' Navett said with a knowing nod. He'd never heard of those, either, but Klif's cue was obvious. 'Sure. I just never heard of 'em by that other name before. Klif, can we get

'em in?'

'Let me check,' Klif said, making a show of pulling the datapad up onto the counter and pretending to turn it on.

'What are these?' Brown Eyes called. He was standing over the mawkren tank, looking in with a somewhat leery expression.

'Baby mawkrens,' Navett told him, stepping to his side and looking fondly down through the clear plastic at the tiny lizards scrabbling restlessly around on top of each other. 'Just whelped this morning. Cute, huh?'

'Adorable,' Brown Eyes said, not sounding like he meant it.

'Here it is,' Klif called. 'Kordulian krisses. Let's see...' There was a beep from Navett's comlink. ' 'Scuse me,' he said, pulling out the instrument, a sudden feeling of dread coming over him. If this was the call they were expecting... 'Hello?'

'Is this Proprietor Navett of the Exoticalia Pet Emporium?' a stiff but harried-sounding Bothan voice asked.

'Sure is,' Navett said, striving for earnest-but-stupid cheerfulness. It was the call, all right; and with all the rotten luck it had come with a pair of New Rep agents standing right there listening. 'What can I do for you?'

'We have a small but troublesome insect infestation problem,' the Bothan said. 'Our attempts to eliminate them have so far proved futile. As a dealer in exotic animals, it was thought you might have some suggestions.'

'Probably,' Navett said. 'Klif and I did some bug-squash work before we got into the pet business. What kind are they?'

'They're unfamiliar to our experts,' the other said, sounding disgusted. 'All we know is that they're very small, do not respond to any of our extermination methods, and at random intervals all begin making a loud humming noise.'

'Could be skronkies,' Navett suggested doubtfully. 'They make a pretty annoying noise. Or aphrens, or—wait a minute. I'll bet they're metalmites. You got any electronics or heavy machinery in the area?'

There was a sort of strangled sound from the comlink. 'A considerable amount of it, yes,' the Bothan said. 'What do metalmites do?'

'Chew through metal,' Navett said. ' 'Course, they don't actually chew through the stuff—they've got enzymes that—'

'I don't need the physiological details,' the Bothan cut him off. 'How do we eliminate them?'

'Well, let's see,' Navett said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully for the benefit of the New Rep agents. Green Eyes had that glint in his eyes again... 'First thing you gotta do is some spraying. You got any—let's see—any CorTrehan around? That's cordioline trehansicol, if you need the whole name.'

'I don't know,' the Bothan said. 'But I'm sure we can get some made up.'

'Before you do, make sure you got someone who knows what they're doing,' Navett warned.

'Won't do you a bit of good to just slather the stuff around.' There was a brief pause. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean you can't just slather the stuff around, that's what,' Navett said, letting a little impatience creep into his voice. 'You gotta get all the spots where they're going to feed, but also leave 'em enough bare spots—' He sighed. 'Look, this isn't something for amateurs to mess around with. We've got the equipment to spray with—we use 'em to disinfect our cages and stock. You get us the CorTrehan, and Klif and me can do the job for you.'

'Impossible,' the Bothan said sharply. 'Offworlders cannot be permitted in that area.'

'Oh. Okay.' Navett shrugged. He'd expected the automatic rejection of his first offer. 'Just trying to help. You'll have plenty of time to get rid of a single brood before it does much damage.' He frowned, as if something had suddenly occurred to him. 'It is just a single brood, isn't it?