It was a problem Rani had anticipated. She opened the seal on a guava drink, an expensive luxury which had set her back plenty because it boasted real fruit and not the usual array of artificial flavorings. Perhaps it did, too, she thought with surprise as she gulped down some of the warm but welcome fluid. The men were complaining for their turns, so she passed the bottle over her shoulder to Sachin. Then she resumed her tight grip on what claimed to be a Bond and Carrington pistol in her lap. It was probably as genuine as a tridjock’s smile, but the barrel was clean and smooth and the trigger mechanism had seemed fluent when she’d practiced with it. Now, though, it was armed with live ammunition and with that she had not practiced.