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the thermal image overlay.”
    Caine did, and frowned. “Damn, with all the energy their power plant is putting out, that flimsy parasol ought to be white-hot by now. The neutrinos alone should be cutting straight through—”
    Downing shook his head. “No. It’s not just a shield. Look how its rim temperature drops off rapidly, even down where the parasol emerges from the hull. And it’s not just a radiator, either.”
    Caine felt his eyebrows rise slightly. “Advanced thermionic materials?”
    Downing shrugged. “What else makes sense? Whatever that parasol is made of, it not only absorbs heat but eliminates it, probably by converting it directly into electricity. And it’s doing so at efficiency levels that are at least an order of magnitude greater than anything we have. It’s a damper, shield, and power-reclamation system all in one. A pearl of great price.”
    “Yes, and another bit of purposeful bragging,” Caine added. “A ship with a system like that is going to have a much better power-to-mass ratio than ours or the Arat Kurs’.”
    Downing nodded. “To say nothing of higher operating efficiency and better ready power levels.”
    Caine sighed, leaned back. “So they’ve shown us that they can put a tiger worth of hurt in the body of a housecat. But there is one significant drawback to their dominance display.”
    Downing smiled. “They’ve shown us how much higher we need to be able to jump if we want to match them. Although I must say that is a high, high bar.”
    Caine shrugged. “Which means we’d better get hopping.” He stood into the zero-gee without remembering to be careful—and discovered that, finally, it was starting to become second nature. “Let’s request approach instructions and get this over with.”
    * * *
    Shortly after they docked with Ferocious Monolith , the Ktoran craft brought its rotating sections to a halt and commenced to spin slowly around its own keel, instead. Caine surmised that was probably because the exchange was likely to take place in the main hull and the Ktor didn’t want to go through those formalities in zero-gee. It was pretty hard to look dignified and imposing while floating, unpowered, in mid air. Particularly their returning leader, the Srin Tlerek Shethkador.
    The Srin Shethkador. None of the analysts who had pored over every recorded word of the assassin-ambassador’s utterances had been able to determine precisely what a Srin was, nor was Shethkador disposed to clarify the matter for them. It was clearly a title of some importance, but whether it was civil or military, inherited or earned, remained a complete mystery. And it will probably still be a mystery when this day is over , Caine reflected as the armored pinnace’s docking hatch opened to reveal the Ktoran ship’s ingress: a shiny iris valve. After a five-second wait, the plates of the valve dilated with a ringing hiss, revealing four guards in what looked like armored vacc suits, unfamiliar weapons at the ready. Faceless behind the black helmet visor that was part of their uniform equipage, one stepped forward and gestured that Caine should approach.
    Caine turned and saw that Miles O’Garran was right behind him, the top of his head barely reaching Riordan’s shoulder. “Ready, Miles?”
    “Whenever you are, sir. But—”
    “Yes?”
    “Are you sure you want me to do this solo, leave my guys back here to keep the ambassador company?”
    “I’m sure.”
    “May I ask why, sir? They’re all eager to come along. Real eager.”
    “That attitude, while laudable, is why I’m leaving them here. For all we know, the Ktor might try to have some fun with us, try to provoke us into making some misstep. I need a seasoned pro who can keep his head clear and his finger away from the trigger if that starts happening. I know you’re good for that job. The other guys and gals: they seem a little too heavy on the oo-rah and a little light on Zen-like serenity.”
    O’Garran smiled.