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“The, uh, material I brought you—” Eckels lowered his voice. “It’s clear from the way we found the remains, and the artifacts found with them, that these creatures were sentient.”

“Which is as I expected. Did you expect otherwise?”

“Sir, it complicates matters, that’s all. If there were survivors, the material would belong to them, of course,” Eckels said. “In the absence of survivors, though, the rules and protocols of the Office of Sentient Species apply—material remains must be preserved as found, artifacts may be reconstructed but not restored, and so forth. I’m sure that a collector of your stature is familiar with those requirements—”

“Passingly familiar,” Drayson said.

“Well, then, this shouldn’t be an issue—for my own conscience’s sake, I simply wanted to get your reassurance that the material will be treated with respect,” Eckels said. “There are no known survivors at present, but that can change. Look at the Fraii Wys, reappearing nine thousand years after history recorded their supposed extinction. And the last thing any of us want is a situation where survivors appear and find that their ancestors are hanging as decorations in the parlor.”

“Is it your purpose to insult me, Dr. Eckels? If so, let me advise you that you’re very close to succeeding.”

“Please, no, not at all. You must understand, the Institute is very reluctant to let material remains leave our control, and even when we do, we always insist on a right of first examination—”

“Which you’ve had,” Drayson said. “I trust that you took advantage of the travel time to conduct that examination and make whatever holos and scans you ordinarily would.”

“Yes. Yes, we did.”

“Very well, then,” said Drayson, showing a quick smile. “If it helps, Doctor, let me reassure you that I’m acutely aware of the value of the contents of that cask—and I do not refer only to how much I will have paid for you to retrieve it. It will be handled with all possible care. After all, a man spends that kind of money to acquire a treasure, not to squander and destroy one. And the parlor walls are quite full already.”

“Yes, of course,” said Eckels, bobbing his head. “My apologies if I offended you.”

“No offense taken,” said Drayson. “Now, if you’ll excuse me …”

It was a twenty-minute flight north from Newport to the nearest Alpha Blue Technical Services Section, located in the same district where several high-profile senators had their official residences. The unremarkable buildings housing Section 41 were not on the tour routes, however. The small signs bearing the generic and easily forgotten business name INTERMATIC, R.C. accounted for the traffic in and out of the site’s two private hangers.

Even before Drayson’s speeder had stopped moving, Section 41 staffers were moving toward it with a repulsorlift cargo dolly in tow behind them. As he emerged from behind the controls, he was greeted with smart salutes.

“Admiral.”

“At ease, Tomas.” Drayson moved to the back of the speeder and helped loosen the tie-downs and guide the dolly under the cask. “Is Dr. Eicroth ready?”

“Lab five,” the colonel said. “She’s been standing by for the last hour.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Dr. Joi Eicroth greeted Drayson with a professional smile that gave no hint of a relationship that had covered friend, lover, and fellow survivor over a span of thirteen years. But as soon as the cask was safely in place beside the large examination plate, Drayson chased the junior officers away and added a quick kiss to his greeting.

“Scandalous, Admiral. I’m on duty.”

“Yes, you are. Let’s get it open,” he said.

“First things first,” she said, pulling a cord that brought two full-body isolation suits descending from the ceiling on their umbilicals. “I have to change into something more comfortable.”

It took her the better part of five minutes to don her iso suit, and then the better part of five more to help him into his and seal the lab. But it took almost no time at all to switch off the cask’s stabilization system, break the seal, remove the lid, and vacuum