donât know?â
âHeâs going to be traveling with us.â
She stared at him. âYou donât look crazy, but thatâs as crazy a thing as Iâve ever heard you say.â
âWeâve got a cloneânot a look-alike, not an android, but a living, breathing clone of Michkag.â
âGreat,â she said. âSo now there are two genocidal geniuses with the same DNA.â
Pretorius shook his head. âWe grew this one up from his DNA, and weâve got a turncoat Kabori who used to work for Michkag and is teaching the clone his mannerisms, his choice of words and phrases, the way he carries himself, everything.â He paused. âIâve seen him, Pandora. He really exists.â
âOkay, he really exists,â she said. âNow, I suppose you could put him on video and have him surrender. That might fool some of his troops. Or you might shoot him in cold bloodâalways assuming these Kabori bastards have any bloodâand ruin the morale of his troops and countrymen, or country things , or whatever the hell they are. But no, thatâs not half dangerous enough for Nate Pretorius.â She looked him full in the eye. âYouâre putting together a suicide mission to replace the real Michkag with the clone.â
âWell, itâs a mission, anyway,â acknowledged Pretorius. âAnd with the right team, it might not be a suicide mission.â
âHold on,â she said, reaching for one of the seven miniaturized computers she wore attached to her belt and tapping in a code with her forefinger. A moment later a response flashed briefly on the screen. âI just put the proposition to the Master Computer on Deluros VIII,â she continued. âYou know what it says the odds of any member of your team living through it are?â
âSix percent.â
âClose,â replied Pandora. âSeven percent.â
Pretorius smiled. âDamn! Iâm doing something right!â
âWhat the hell are you talking about?â
âIt was six percent before you and Snake joined the team.â
âI havenât joined anything, Nate.â
âBut you will,â he said.
âWhy?â
âBecause no oneâs ever broken into Michkagâs personal computer, and no oneâs ever deciphered their secret codesâand you canât resist that kind of challenge.â
âYou think not?â she said pugnaciously.
He shot her a confident smile. âI think not.â
âYouâre a fool,â she said. âYou never asked why I retired from the service two years ago.â
He shrugged. âI figured you had your reasons.â
âI did,â she said, nodding her head. âI do . Close to a billion reasons as of last month.â She lowered her voice. âSince I quit, Iâve robbed seven of the enemyâs biggest banks, and now you want me to actually go to Orion and kidnap or kill their most powerful and best-protected general?â
âYes.â
âYou know the odds against it?â
He smiled. âYou just told me.â
âWell, youâre crazy.â
âIâve been called worse.â
She stared at him. âDo I look crazy to you?â
âNo.â
âWell, there you have it.â
âOkay,â said Pretorius. âIf youâre still talking to me, Iâll order dessert.â
She nodded her assent; he signaled to the robotic waiter, ordered two soufflés, and turned back to her.
âBy the way,â she said, âif no oneâs broken their code, how do you know what planet to go to and when?â
He smiled. âWeâve broken their partnersâ code.â
âAh,â she said. âOf course.â
âSo who do you recommend? Tomas Sanchez?â
She shook her head. âNot good enough, not for something like this.â
âBenny Scaparelli?
âNo.â
âWell, when you