"Anyway, the plan never had to be used, for which we may give thanks. The ramscoop raid and the death of Chuut-Riit gave us a breathing space, and instead of Protectors the hyperdrive saved us. We were lucky.
"As for Operation Cherubim, it seems that all those in the need-to-know circle in the Centauri system died. The kzinti found the maser transceiver in due course and they didn't stop at half-measures in blasting Nifelheim out of the sky with all its personnel. Also, quite a lot of ARM intelligence people from Sol died in the war, you know. We had gaps in our own records and knowledge. We didn't keep a lot of things electronically at all, for fear of kzinti or their agents hacking into our files. We lost both hard copy and computers when the kzin hit assets on Earth, which happened more often than most people know. Anyway ARM decided the consignment had never arrived and wrote it off . . . And you say the containers were hit in the fight."
"Yes."
"Well, at least they can't have been breached," Guthlac said. "If any tree-of-life agent had escaped you'd have known all about it at the time. How old are you, Nils?"
"A hundred and one last birthday."
"Even twenty-six years ago, you would have been too old to make the change. Exposure to tree-of-life would have killed you. But you're still here. And none of the rest of your party was affected either. I think—I hope—we can assume the integrity of the containers. They were made strong, after all . . . Although no stronger than the ordinary hospital containers they were supposed to be. We expected them to be inspected and x-rayed by the collabos at least, and we didn't want to arouse suspicion by making them anything special."
"They may have been damaged, though," said Rykermann. "I remember seeing them take hits. And twenty-six years buried wouldn't have improved them. There can be some powerful microorganisms and compounds in Wunderland soil, in the caves in particular. I'd suggest they be removed at once."
"Obviously. That's why I sent for you as soon as I realized what your report was about. Can you find them?"
"With deep-radar it should be easy enough," Rykermann said. "I remember the locality."
"We want to be discreet about this," Guthlac said. "We also don't want humans being put at risk of exposure to tree-of-life. Trustworthy—very trustworthy—kzinti would be useful on a job like this. The stuff's no danger and no value to them. I say that because I think of Vaemar. Can Vaemar destroy them?"
"He's still up at the caves. He's due to return in the next day or two. You know why."
"This is tricky," said Guthlac. "We don't want humans approaching those containers, not given the state they might be in, but I'm not happy about any kzinti, not even your young paragon of virtue, finding out too much about them. It might be best to simply clear the whole area and nuke it."
"It might be best," said Rykermann, "to make sure the containers are still there first."
"Why shouldn't they be?"
"There were several people in our own party—the party that met the couriers when they were buried—who survived. I've lost touch with some of them. I'm not saying any of them would necessarily steal such things or have any motive to, but who knows who they might have talked to since then? The fighting's been over on this planet for thirteen years. Barroom reminiscences about some buried containers of weapons might have tempted some crook or adventurer to go on a private treasure-hunt for all we know."
"If such a crook had opened them he or she would have had a surprise. And I think we would have known about it by now."
"Even so, surely they should be counted and inventoried before they're destroyed?"
"I take your point. Can Vaemar do that?"
"Yes."
"Get him onto it then. I don't need to tell you to stay well away from the area yourself. It shouldn't be too dangerous for him."
"May I tell Vaemar what he's doing? He knows about the Pak, by the way. He searched old Earth records for another project."
"I didn't know that. Act at your discretion. If he knows about the Pak there doesn't seem much point in concealing this from him. It'll give him an incentive, in fact."
Chapter 4
Circle Bay Monastery, despite being home to an order of celibate male monks, had detached guest houses for lay visitors, including females. With a wedding planned to be held there shortly the bride, Gale, and her guests Leonie Rykermann and Karan, who had arrived early by air-car, were experimenting with clothes and cosmetics in front of a mirror. Twenty-fifth-century cosmetics, including skin-coloring agents as permanent as tattoos until one wanted to remove them, gave plenty of scope for experiment.
"You think headband suits me?" Karan asked.
"Not one like mine," Leonie told her. "Try a white one. Or better, the one holding the jewel."
Karan surveyed the result from several angles. "Little cape?" she asked. "Like this?" She demonstrated.
"That ought to turn a few heads," said Leonie. "Including Vaemar's." She herself wore a long skirt that hid her legs, legs that she still moved awkwardly.
The telephone on Karan's belt beeped. As she listened to its message
