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charge?”
     
    “We know nothing about their social structure,” Doctor Song said.  “All we have is speculation - and unproductive speculation at that.”
     
    Henry nodded.  “What else can you tell me about them?”
     
    “The Foxes - for want of a better word - are probably very fast,” Doctor Song said, reluctantly.  “It’s impossible to be absolutely sure” - Henry hid his irritation with an effort - “but we found traces of something that resembles an organic booster drug within their bloodstreams.   I think that, if challenged, they will be able to boost themselves automatically, probably without the side effects noted by our military.  They’ll be used to the drugs.”
     
    “I see,” Henry said.  He’d heard a great deal about combat drugs, but all of them had dangerous drawbacks that rendered them unsuitable for deployment.  A soldier might be boosted for a short period, yet afterwards he’d be lucky to survive long enough to reach medical treatment.  “How long will the boost last?”
     
    “Probably no more than thirty minutes, which may be a very conservative estimate,” Doctor Song told him.  She altered the display, showing him the drug glands buried within the alien’s neck.  “I suspect the drug also affects their liver-analogue, forcing it to cleanse their blood at a truly frightening speed.  But I think if they were pushed, they’d be in deep trouble when they finally came off the drug.”
     
    “They’ll know it too,” Henry mused.
     
    “I don’t see how they couldn't know it,” Doctor Song said.  “But we were surprised when someone dropped an orgy bomb in Birmingham.”
     
    Henry winced.  Someone - and years of investigation had never isolated a suspect, according to the files - had created a hormonal cocktail during the height of the Troubles and released it in a shopping mall in Birmingham, UK.  The result had been an absolute nightmare, with hundreds of shoppers driven wild with lust.  And the first responders, unsure just what they were about to encounter, had been affected too.  Dozens of people had been killed and the remainder had been badly traumatised.  Pheromone manipulation had been theoretically possible for years, but it was the first time anyone had experienced the potential on a large scale.  It had shocked Britain to the core.
     
    Doctor Song went on, ruthlessly.  “Their hearing is probably better than ours, as I said,” she added, “and so is their sense of smell.  However, I’d bet that their eyesight isn't as effective as ours, at least in the daytime.  At night ... things may be different.  However, I’d be surprised if they didn't have the technology to even the odds.  We certainly do.”
     
    “True,” Henry agreed.  “Did you spot anything to suggest genetic or technological enhancement?”
     
    “No to the latter,” Doctor Song said.  “We didn't find a trace of implants or anything along the same lines.  There didn't even seem to be a basic neural link.  But genetically” - she shrugged, expressively - “we simply don’t understand their genetic code well enough to make any comments.  It took over a century to unlock many of the mysteries of the human gene code and ... well, we still make mistakes.”
     
    Henry nodded.  The dream of enhanced humans, for better or worse, had yet to materialise.  It was easy enough to improve individual traits - his immune system was far tougher than that of his ancestors - but enhancing the entire human race?  There was no shortage of people who wanted to do just that; thankfully, they’d never actually gotten anywhere.  He had no doubt that ‘superior’ humans would eventually have turned on ‘inferior’ humans.
     
    “I understand,” he said.
     
    “I trust that you got what you came for,” Doctor Murray said.  “Our work here is important.”
     
    “It is,” Henry agreed.  He looked at Doctor Song.  “Doctor, would you care to accompany the task