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hazard symbol; at its centerpiece was a drop of his blood, pristine and uninfected, encased in polyurethane. “What we don’t understand,” the Chief continued, “is why now? Why are they escalating all of a sudden?”
    Daxus shrugged as he passed the ring beneath a DNA scanner. “It’s simply population geometics,” he finally answered. An instant later he was finally stepping through the hermetic doors that separated his office from the rest of the building. The other man stayed respectfully back as Daxus walked through a bath of green gamma rays that killed the last of any microbes he might have picked up during his travels outside the building. The heavy glass doors slid shut behind him; now the Chief, as well as the aide who had come up to join them, would have to communicate via the speakers embedded here and there in the barrier. On the surface it was an annoyance, but there were added benefits. Every time he came in here and left someone behind, psychologically this placed him in the ultimate position of power: he was a man who was so important that he did not have to breathe the same air as those around him.
    It had other effects, too. In here, Daxus felt that he was finally safe, and now the Vice-Cardinal stripped off the outer gloves with a pleased expression. “There’s a minimum critical number that any population must maintain in order to propagate and survive,” he explained. “Very plainly, we’ve been so effective in exterminating them that we’ve reduced them
past
that number.” Daxus walked behind his desk, then settled comfortably on his chair and let his gaze scan the desktop critically. Nice and clean, dust-free—the cleaning crew had done their job, right on schedule. “They’re on the verge of extinction and they know it.”
    On the other side of the sanitary barrier, his Chief of Staff stood up straighter. “Then we have to capitalize,” he said excitedly. He was practically bouncing up and down. “We have to take this opportunity to deliver a knockout punch!”
    Keeping his face carefully expressionless, Daxus reached behind him and retrieved a cup of coffee from the tray waiting on his credenza. He took his time pulling off the sterilized wrapper, enjoying the impatience of the two men, relishing the fact that neither dared say anything to voice it. When he finally spoke, he did so slowly and very clearly, as if he’d waited for this moment for a long, long time and wanted to savor every second. “For the last ten years, in partnership with the Laboratories for Latter Day Defense, I’ve overseen the development of a weapon that can locate and kill every Hemophage on the planet.” Daxus paused and watched their expressions as this information sank in, then he smiled vaguely. “In a matter of
days.
”
    The two men staring at him through the glass exchanged surprised glances, then the Chief managed to say, “That’s . . .
extraordinary.
What’s the ETA?”
    Daxus took a slow sip of his sanitized coffee, and he had to work hard at not allowing his face to grimace as the blatantly burned taste of the liquid dribbled down his throat. It was awful stuff, but at least he knew it was safe. So much of the world had been ruined by the Hemophages, but soon, very soon . . .
    This time when he smiled at the Chief of Staff and the aide, Daxus’s smile was bold and wide, as close to genuine happiness as either of the two men had ever seen. “Now. A courier has been dispatched to bring it here to the ArchMinistry as we speak.”

FIVE
    From the air, the L.L.D.D.—Laboratories for Latter Day Defense—looked like a miniature city. In reality that’s exactly what it was, with all the modern conveniences in one place and residences for all tiers of the personnel who worked inside. It wasn’t difficult to find similarities between the L.L.D.D. and the Army posts and Air Force bases of the previous centuries, with everything from shopping exchanges, grocery stores, minimalls, and movie