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spine that was no longer of any use, and in some members of their race, this spine had a tendency to compress in width, drawing other bones inward and causing the body to narrow, sometimes to such dangerous proportions that organs were crushed and death resulted. Some victims survived, but were crippled, no longer able to walk or use their arms.
    For LCS sufferers, it was important to go through regular, rigorous physical therapy, as Pimyt did several times a week. It seemed like a primitive way of treating the condition, but reportedly it worked better than drugs or other methods.
    When Jacopo Nehr approached Pimyt, the Hibbil was grimacing in pain as the machine pulled him from his left and right sides. His eyes watered.
    “I need to talk with you,” the general said. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s urgent.”
    “Well, what is it?” Pimyt pressed a button on the transmitter to increase the tension, and the pain.
    “It’s something the Doge needs to know, and it involves the internal workings of nehrcoms. You cautioned me not to discuss … certain things … with him, so I thought it best to come to you instead.”
    “You’re not making any sense.”
    The chisel-featured man cleared his throat. “As you know, I keep a mobile nehrcom transceiver with me at all times. This morning I heard voices on it in an alien language. Tracing the transmission, I found it was going back and forth between the planets of Uhadeen and Paradij, in the Mutati Kingdom.”
    “What?”
    “Toward the end of the transmission I identified an additional voice, speaking Galeng in an Adurian accent.”
    He brought the shiny black transceiver out of his pocket, and switched on a playback mechanism. Alien voices spoke for several minutes, followed by the Adurian-accented Galeng.
    After listening, Pimyt said, “What’s the significance of this?”
    “There shouldn’t be transmissions in the Mutati Kingdom at all, and the Adurian-accented voice is of additional concern. The Adurians are allies of the Mutatis, as you know.”
    “This is very strange.” The Hibbil looked up at him with watery red eyes. “You must be mistaken.”
    “No mistake. I checked and rechecked. It came from the Mutati Sector.”
    “They stole some of the units?”
    He shook his head. “Not possible, due to the detonators I rigged at every transmitting station. No, the Mutatis must have built their own transceivers. The transmission quality was fuzzy, but clear enough for us to understand what the Adurian said. You heard him. He spoke of the Mutatis no longer being able to employ Demolios—whatever they are—against merchant prince planets, since they could no longer use podships.”
    Pimyt glared up at him. “Are you accusing me of leaking the technology?”
    Nehr’s eyes widened in anger. “No, of course not.”
    “Because if you are, I can still let the details of your nehrcom secret out and ruin you when your business competitors find out how simple the transceivers are and start manufacturing their own.”
    “Not without piezoelectric emeralds, they won’t. Those stones aren’t easy to get anymore, not without podship travel.”
    Pimyt tightened the tension on the stretching machine again, pulling his body even more. He set the control device on a table, and said, “Maybe so, but it would still ruin your reputation as a genius inventor.” Despite his pain, Pimyt laughed. “The great inventor Jacopo Nehr! A child could have put together what you did. No wonder you concealed the secret for so long.”
    “A child could not have cut the piezo emeralds with the necessary precision,” Nehr huffed.
    “Nonetheless, my point is well taken. It is a comparatively simple system, easily understood by a layman.”
    “Even so, the nehrcom system is one of our critical technologies, a military secret. You don’t want to compromise that.”
    “What difference does it make now, if—as you said—the Mutatis already have it anyway?”
    “Look, I