The trip to Dekronas took about six months - not that she'd notice, deep in cryosleep. She didn't dream for a change, which was good. She didn't like her dreams of late. They'd been the maniacally busy kind, where she'd start a task and find herself in an infinite loop, with only slight variations, never seeming to finish anything. Sometimes the mind just won't shut down and forget about work.

Her work - shipping arbitration - was the reason for this long journey. Over the years and on many worlds, she'd negotiated difficult contracts and transactions, her skills eventually gaining enough attention to put her in high demand. Nowadays she had to do a kind of triage on the many requests she received, accepting first the ones where things seemed likely to blow apart if something wasn't done immediately to defuse the situation.

Dekronas was one such situation - a colony planet on the far edge of the Demeter system. Its remoteness meant it was pretty much a law unto itself, but it was just far enough inside the quadrant lines to qualify for protection and assistance under intergalactic law. The files she'd studied before her journey told her that things had been alright up until two years ago, when a group of independent shippers decided to band together and challenge shipping regulations (which naturally tended to favor the larger companies). Needless to say, the response had not been positive, resulting in a series of escalating sabotage incidents on some of the larger deep-space freighters, many resulting in millions of credits in damage. Without solid evidence, no blame could be placed on the indies, but that didn't stop the big companies from sending out their boys to do a little retaliatory roughing-up.

That was where she came in. A few weeks of correspondence had finalized her contract as official Arbiter for the dispute, and obtained agreements from both faction leaders to cease all hostilities until her arrival.

Yeah, good luck *there*, she'd thought as she read the documents. Like we can really make 'em do *anything* from way the fuck over here.

And then there were the local customs to worry about. She was shocked to find that part of the Dekronian shipping business was devoted to the slave trade. They used mostly convicted criminals fitted with behavioral inhibitors, reasoning that they should be made use of rather than left to sit in cells drawing free food and medical care from their respective local governments. The governments, of course, were glad of the extra money from their "reimbursement of expenses" (they were careful never to use the word "sale"), and even more glad to be relieved of their constant upkeep.

Really, when you thought about it, it made pretty good sense, but still...it would take some getting used to. This was her first trip to a planet where slavery was condoned. She had horrible images of torture and malnutrition in her head, having read the histories of other slave-based cultures. Her final message exchange with an official of the Dekronian government had brought assurances that the well-being of slaves was carefully monitored.

In fact, said the man in his response, the behavioral inhibitors worn by the slaves remove all necessity of discipline, as all violent impulses are effectively blocked, rendering them as docile and obedient as a child's house pet. Additionally, any abuse of this system by slave owners was quickly punished. Bad for business, you know, he said. Wouldn't want the government to step in and take away the workers we depend on.

Oh, nooo - we simply can't have *that*, now can we? she thought ruefully, shaking her head as the words scrolled down her screen. I'll be glad when *this* trip's over.

The ozone-like smell crept into her nostrils, slowly bringing her around. Her eyes fluttered open, showing her people in red jumpsuits moving around outside, stopping now and then at some of the other tubes to tap buttons on the small panels on the doors. She blinked a few times and took a deep breath, feeling instantly energized.

Gotta love that wake-up gas, she thought.

A red-suited flight attendant appeared at her window, smiling his professional smile as he punched in the codes to open her tube. The door unsealed with a popping hiss and slid back.

"Good evening, Arbiter." Jim - according to his name tag - began releasing the cushioned braces that had held her safely in position during the flight. "Welcome to Dekronas."

"Thanks," she whispered, and cleared her throat.

Jim handed her a small plastic vial of clear fluid. "This'll bring your voice back faster. Just squirt it straight down your throat."

She nodded her thanks, took it and followed his instructions, handing the empty vial back to him. He stuck it into a pocket, then helped her carefully out of her tube. The wake-up gas had worked its magic, and she was able to stand without wavering.

"What time is it?" she asked him, her voice almost normal now.

"Local time is 6:48 pm, ma'am. Surface weather's a bit drizzly right now, but it's still warm. The rain should be clearing up by late morning." He looked towards the end of the large compartment, where more flight attendants were shepherding other passengers into shuttlecraft. "Your luggage is confirmed as transferred and loaded, ma'am," he smiled at her, lifting his arm to indicate the departing group. "Just follow the rest of the offloading passengers, and you'll be shown to your seat on our surface shuttle."

"Thanks." She ran a hand through her hair and tugged at her flowing official robes to straighten them. A smiling female attendant escorted her to her seat on the comfortable first-class shuttle and locked her in.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a pleasant male voice announced over the speakers. "Welcome to Dekronas. In a few minutes, we'll be leaving the shuttle bay and preparing for atmospheric entry. If this is your first time on a surface shuttle, you should expect a bit of a bumpy ride when we hit the upper atmosphere. Our stabilizer system will dampen most of the shuttle's motion during this time, but we still ask that you secure all loose objects on your person until re-entry is complete. Those with sensitive stomachs and vertigo, please note that an anti-nausea mask is located on the seat back in front of you. Thank you for traveling with Interspace Transport, and enjoy your stay on Dekronas."

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, wishing she could take out her notes and give them a last quick look. The idea of living among slave owners for days, weeks or possibly months was rather daunting. She'd studied all she could about their culture - it was similar enough to her own to make her at least somewhat comfortable. It helped, too, that they spoke Common and English along with their native tongue (thanks to the Earthies who'd settled there).

But still - *slaves*...

With any luck, she could wrap this thing up in less than two weeks, barring any ceremonial difficulties, and get the hell back home.

The shuttle shook as the docking clamps released, its engines powering up while the turntable spun the thing around to face the open bay door. Then they were out and in free fall for a few seconds before the pilot leveled them out and began their descent. Across the aisle from her, an older man grabbed his anti-nausea mask and breathed in the soothing gas mixture. His female companion, apparently an old pro at this, appeared to be napping.

Not a bad idea, she thought, closing her eyes again. I'd take a nap too, if I weren't so goddam awake already.

She relaxed and lost herself in thoughts of a good meal and a hot shower, maybe a walk around to get the feel of her surroundings.

Oh, damn - forgot, it's raining. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow, after it clears up. I'll schedule the first meeting for afternoon so I don't have to rush.

Suddenly, the shuttle started moving in a very un-shuttle-like manner. If she didn't know better, she'd swear they were fishtailing. Just as she sat up to look around, it happened again - this time it was clear that something was very wrong. The passengers were mashed back against their seats by centrifugal force as the thing spun crazily. The old man lost his grip on the anti-nausea mask and threw up. His vomit, forced back down his throat and into his windpipe, started slowly choking him to death. She watched, helpless, as he struggled to breathe for a few seconds, then went limp.

Oh, shit, was all she could think. I'm about to die.

The spinning and tumbling seemed endless. Pinned to their seats, no one could move or even speak. All they could do was stare resignedly at each other as the thunder of re-entry boomed around them, along with what sounded like missiles flying past. Every few seconds, there was a metallic thud as objects slammed into the hull. Right after one of these thuds, a whistling sound began somewhere near the back. It was a toss-up as to whether the sweat on their faces came from the heat of re-entry or just plain scared shitlessness.

Outer hull breach, she thought. If we can just make it through the atmosphere without falling apart or burning up -

The craft gave a mighty lurch, shuddering and groaning. The whistling grew louder, and the spinning motion decreased. After a bit more lurching, the shuttle miraculously seemed to straighten itself out.

At least we can breathe, she thought, gripping the arms of her seat. They went down breathing, sir, she added, almost giggling at the ridiculousness of it.

She could tell by the changing motion and sound exactly when they broke through the atmosphere. The vehicle was now aimed downward and descending rapidly. Too rapidly, as if it were still out of control. It bucked once, like a giant horse being broken, and the angle eased up a bit. She thought she could hear the braking panels being deployed. The pilot's tense voice came over the speakers.

"Brace for impact! Brace for impact!" was all he had time to say before they slammed into the ground and started skidding. They bounced once, twice, three times, then skewed around to one side just as the back of the thing gave a deafening crack and split apart. The last thing she remembered was the dark grey sky, rain on her face, and the dreamy slow motion of her blue and white robes whipping up around her.

When she came to, it was still raining. She was on her right side, still firmly locked into her seat. It hurt to breathe - every hitching gasp brought a searing stab of pain in her side. Moving very slowly, she opened her eyes and turned her head to the left. The other half of the shuttle was gone, and judging by the splashing noises, her half had been collecting rainwater for some time. There were other noises too - voices calling out in the darkness, boots clambering over wreckage.

She tried to yell, but managed only a weak rasp that ended in a coughing fit and spikes of white-hot pain. Her left arm seemed ok, so she held it up, hoping one of the sweeping light beams would detect it.

"Hey! Over there!" a commanding female voice shouted. One of the beams jumped over to where she lay, and she waved her hand as much as she could without hurting herself. In seconds, the sounds of running feet advanced towards her, and a face peered over the edge of the wreckage.

"Holy shit!" a male voice said. "It's the Arbiter!" He turned and waved his handlight behind him. "Medic! We got a live one here!"

More running feet, and then she was surrounded by at least five people, one of whom gently unlocked her seat brace. The others lifted her out together, sending another wave of pain through her. She couldn't even scream, it hurt so much. Her chest felt full of fire. The group deposited her on the ground, then gentle hands probed her body for injuries. She let out a choked sob when the hands pressed into her side.

"Right side ribs are broken," a new male voice said. "Can you speak, ma'am?"

She shook her head. Even in the rain, she could feel the hot tears of agony pouring from her eyes.

"Punctured lung," the voice said. He pulled something out of a box beside him and pressed it to her neck. "This'll make you sleep," he said, sounding suddenly echoey and far away. "Don't worry, Arbiter McClellan - you're gonna be ok now. Move 'er out!" The man stepped away and signaled two others to ease her onto a stretcher. Her vision was going fuzzy, but she could see looming over her in the beam of a handlight a set of broad shoulders in a dark wet t-shirt, topped by a pair of large brown eyes.

Don't I know you from somewhere? she wanted to ask, but sleep was calling, and it felt so good to let go and just sink into it. By the time the stretcher was lifted from the ground, she had gone under.