starting a
mission, and with as much enthusiasm, but he'd begun feeling less than
comfortable about this one. Part of it was because he was pursuing
someone he would probably like to have as a friend; the unknown agent
didn't deserve to be hunted, though Nevan had to reluctantly concede
that it was probably the best way to accomplish his thakur's mission.
The other part was that he couldn't seem to decide whether or not he
really wanted to catch his target. He wanted to make sure the weapons
were delivered, yes, and since his chosen lady wanted a good test of
IntelDiv's security, he had to want it too--but he wasn't happy about
what those desires implied: It was almost inevitable that he'd have to
use some of a field agent's less savory skills. He'd used them before,
often enough, and without qualms--against the Empire's enemies. He had
never used them against people who had done nothing to deserve such
treatment, and he didn't really want to.

He didn't have any choice, though. He would do whatever proved to be
necessary to accomplish his objectives.

* * * * *

Three weeks, five planetfalls, and almost 1500 light-years of routine
checking later, Nevan discovered his quarry's name: Kiyoshi Owajima.
So far he'd had to resort to nothing more drastic than reading and
casual conversation, but learning he was after Owajima left him both
disgusted at the gods' whimsical ordering of things and positive that
things would be getting unpleasant rather shortly. He'd never met
Owajima, though he'd wanted to, and when Nevan had left IntelDiv on
swearing fealty to Ranger Losinj, Owajima had taken over the top field
agent rating. Owajima was no Sandeman, but IntelDiv rumor had him
close; he was supposed to have been a Kai-school ninja before joining
the Corps, and his exploits since hadn't done anything to contradict
the rumor. Nevan scowled at that; he hated having to depend on rumor.
Doing that tended to get agents killed--but unless you worked in the
classified section of Personnel Records or knew the agent personally,
rumor was all you'd have on one. And in Owajima's case, as in Nevan's
own, there wasn't even much rumor.

* * * * *

Kiyoshi Owajima concealed a scowl when he finished decoding his
informant's message and read it. He had a pursuer, it seemed--a
Sandeman warrior named Vance DarLowrie, and the informant was convinced
DarLowrie was one of the rare, exp