I nod and reach into my synthdenim vest to withdraw an optical chip. I lay it on the counter with my palm over it, then slide it toward Milo before lifting my hand away. The dwarf picks up the chip slowly, not wanting to appear too eager. He pulls a battered chip-reader from under the counter and slots the chip. The reader’s drive unit whirs a bit as the lasers read the optical data off the chip, and it scrolls across the small display screen. Milo’s brow furrows and he scrolls through the data, giving an occasional "hmmm" deep in his throat. The warriors have fanned out and remain alert for any signs of trouble. I don’t expect any. Milo deals fairly with us.