"Only... only just barely." Branswick slumped against the door frame, limbs trembling. "Even a full EMP wash couldn't save me now. Microscopic bastards did their jobs."
"The countermeasures?"
"Gave out half past Mars." He dropped the hatbox onto the table. "But our man in Andromeda came through, more or less."
Dintree lifted the lid. "Dear God," he murmured. He glanced at Branswick, but the other man was already slumped unconscious. "Well," said Dintree, reaching inside and hefting the glinting robotic head, "let's see what you know that's so important."
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