"What about the body?"
Kovandaswamy looked at him nervously. "A native, Mayhem. A native won't be molested, you see."
"That figures. What kind of native?"
"In top shape, sir. Healthy, young, in the prime of life you might say."
"Then what's bothering you?"
"Nothing. Nothing, sir."
"Your technicians are ready?"
"Yes, sir. And vowed to secrecy."
Mayhem found a tiny capsule in the pocket of his Sirian jumper, and popped it in his mouth.
"What—what's that?" Kovandaswamy asked.