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"They will hear and they will come!"

"Just give me a minute," Marcus pleaded. "Be quiet!"

He listened. He closed his eyes and focused everything he had learned as Anla-shok, all the discipline, all the rigor, all the pain he had endured, into the task at hand: picking one voice out of a thousand.

Without opening his eyes, he passed a hand over the controls. Several hundred voices went away. He strained to hear.

"Guard coming soon," the Drazi said. "Go now."

"Not yet," Marcus said.

And listened.

"--farther than under the rule of domestication of combat losses were my name is--"

Marcus found his heart suddenly pounded so loudly that he briefly thought he might lose her. Her voice was barely audible, but it cut through the rest because it was familiar, and because it was HERS. He would recognize it even if it were drowned in a million voices.

"My name is Susan Ivanova, daughter of Andrei and Sophie Ivanov--"

He opened his eyes. Only one set of seven datacrystals was still glowing in the room beyond where they stood, only one voice still remaining.

"I am Death incarnate, and the last living thing you are ever going to see."

"We take? We go now?" the Drazi asked.

"God sent me."

"Yes, Marcus said softly. "We take and we go now."

The Drazi didn't have a lead one where Marcus could find his next target, but he knew someone who knew someone who might know someone.

More money went into other hands. When enough of it had gone out, as Marcus had expected, someone who knew someone DID know someone.

More credits were deposited into the account of the colony's head of security, who looked the other way as Marcus took off in his personal flyer, now programmed for a small research station in Brakiri space.

He checked his finances en
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