It was very impressive, in its understated fashion. Bold and effervescent as ever, Tor sauntered unhesitatingly up to the low barrier that blocked the tunnel. A gate was cut into the left side, near the tunnel wall. A single officer was seated behind the barrier. Two emerald stars shone on her shoulder.

There were also two guards, one before the gate, the other behind. They were not resting in saddles but stood stiffly at the ready. To Ryo’s amazement, each was armed with a large lethal-looking energy rifle held in firing position, tight in both foothands with a truhand on the trigger stud.

Neither of the guards turned a head to study the new arrivals. They stared in opposite directions, one up the corridor and the other down. It seemed as if their sole purpose in life was to insure that nothing approached the barrier unseen. They reminded Ryo of pictures he’d seen of ancient warriors standing ready, jaws agape, to defend the primitive hive.

The officer saddled behind the barrier, however, looked up readily at Tor’s approach and favored him with a greeting movement of her antennae.

“You’re Tor the hunter, aren’t you?”

“That I am. At your service.” He executed a fluid gesture of third-degree obeisance combined with two degrees of sexual admiration.

It did not have any visible effect on the officer. “I’ve heard of you.” She seemed open and friendly. “I am Burrow Tacticianary Marwenewlix, tenth level.”

Tor took note of her insignia. “Greetings and warmth to you.”

“What may I do for the three of you?” She was eying their pelts with curiosity and none of the disgust Ryo would have expected.

Moving forward, Tor rested his truhands on the barrier as he spoke. “My friends are hunter-trappers, as am I. We deal in the skins and skeletons and corpses of those beasts favored for aesthetic and culinary application, which beasts the hive dwellers would rather avoid while the fearsome things still live.”

“I know that,” she replied. “I have a byorlesnath thorax muff I bought from a concession in the service corridor. The proprietor told me you were his supplier.”

“Fourth booth, level two?” She gestured in the affirmative. “Young Estplehenzin, yes, I remember. I hope you find the muff to your liking.”

“It is quite attractive in its barbaric way—and very warm.”

“Then you can understand, as an appreciator of such items, why my friends and I are always on the search for similar items with which to supplement our stock.”

For the first time she sounded uncertain. “I’m not sure I follow you.”

Tor leaned closer, his tone turning conspiratorial. “It’s come to our attention that you might be studying some creatures whose pelts would be especially marketable. More than just the usual novelties, if you follow my meaning. Something will have to be done with them when you’ve finished your studies. We would be glad to handle any post-experiment disposal, with mutual profit to all concerned.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” She added two degrees of politeness and one of puzzlement. “No such creatures exist in this section.”