The Magical Bat Year V

by karanne

The fifth year of Mattie Wayne's magical education at Hogwarts.

3. 1 15 October 2002

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For disclaimers, please see Chapter One.
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Chapter 3: 1 ~ 15 October 2002
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Tuesday, October 1, 2002: 04:43 (GMT -5)
Terra, Grandview Heights, Morton home:
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To: Mr. William Morton
From: Dr. Martha Livingston
Date: 1 October, 2002
Subject: Ens. Elena Morton

Mr. Morton,

As you are listed as the emergency contact in Ms. Morton's file, I am writing to inform you of recent medical events…

Maggie Morton read the rest of the email from the ship's surgeon on her daughter's ship, and thought for a moment, then clicked on the 'forward' button and typed an address. She heard the toilet flush down the hall, and considered what to tell her husband.

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Tuesday, October 1, 2002: 10:21 (GMT)
Terra, Hogwarts, 2nd year Mathematics:
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Twenty minutes into the class, and with no points deducted from any house, Arthur finished going over last week's assessment test. "Well, we have some strengths and weaknesses to address, but as I said, the test was to find out where we are. This isn't figured into your grade, so if you did well, or poorly, I'll be talking to you later. Also, since we have not lost a single point, we're going to leave the joys of simple arithmetic behind and move on to some basic geometry. I'd suggest you be ready to do some sketching."

He waited for a minute, then said, "I'm certain everyone here knows what an equilateral triangle is," he said, holding up a green plastic triangle, which he proceeded to toss over his right shoulder. "You probably also know what a square is." An orange square received the same treatment. "Regular hexagon." A larger yellow hexagon followed the other two.

Holding up a blue diamond shaped piece, "Can anyone who isn't Mr. Morton tell me the technical name for this?" A few hands rose. "Miss Appleton."

"A rhombus," the young Ravenclaw replied.

"Correct. A rhombus, like a square, has sides of all the same length and the opposing sides are parallel. But while a square must have four 90° angles, a rhombus does not. This means all squares are rhombuses, but not all rhombuses are squares." Popping out his wand, he used it to point out the angles to those who looked confused. He summoned the orange square and overlaid it, and there were some 'Ahh's of understanding. He continued, "Now, these are sometimes improperly called a diamond, after the playing card suit, or a lozenge. However, the lozenge usually refers to a rhombus with a 45° angle." He played with the two pieces, then asked, "Everyone got that? Okay, moving on."

"We now move on to a quadrilateral," and he spelled it with his wand. Holding up the red half-hexagon, he continued, "You will notice it also has four sides, but one of the sides prevents it from being a square by being longer." Once again, he overlaid the orange square, and waited for the sketching. "Now, for points, and once again Mr. Morton can't answer, why isn't it a rhombus?"

He raised an eyebrow and said, "Yes, Miss Whitloe?"

"Um… because only two of the sides are the same way?"

"How do you mean the same way?" he asked, and she demonstrated with her hands. "The term is parallel, but you're correct. Four points for Hufflepuff," he said with a quick smile, and she squealed, doing a little dance in her chair, then glancing at him. He ostentatiously looked away, and she held up her hands, "I got points! I got points!"

"Let's not get carried away, Miss Whitloe," Arthur said dryly. He held up a narrow tan spindle, "Why is this a rhombus ... Excuse me, please." He walked to the back of the classroom where Minerva stood, holding a quick conference. Moving back to the front with her, he said, "Mr. Morton, please join me, the Headmistress will be taking over." He rapidly stacked his materials, as did Bill, then held the door for his brother.

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"What's going on?" Bill asked.

"Elena," he replied tersely; and then saw his sister coming down the stairs from her class, and Mattie coming down from hers. "Classroom 13," he called, and they nodded.

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"Here's what's going on," Arthur said, addressing his relatives. "You know what happened with Elena when we were on Windfall," and Mattie nodded. "She seemed to be handling it okay, she resumed her regular duty schedule, but she also continued drinking, and not just beer. She was hitting the harder stuff, primarily vodka, straight from the bottle. She showed up for a flight and wasn't able to operate the hatch, so Dr. Livingston grounded her. They've been trying to help her aboard the Bucky…"

"The 'Bucky'?" Bill asked with a snort of laughter.

"The M/V Buckminster Fuller," Mattie said. "Go on, please."

"Anyway, she's in bad shape, and Dad's listed as her emergency contact. They emailed, Mom got the email this morning, she forwarded it to Minerva, and here we are."

"Okay, I want to know what happened with Elena," Julie said, and Arthur sat back. Mattie gave him a minute; then said, "The capsule summary is that four of the Council Guards, known as the Blacks, tried to ambush and kidnap Arthur and I. They grabbed Arthur, Elena and I went to defend him, and one of the Blacks was killed in the scuffle by Elena's knife." She raised her left arm, and indicated, "In the side, right in the heart." She leaned forward, "For what it's worth, she's a combat veteran now, she's killed defending not only her passenger, but her brother. The others there, the ones that have been there and done that…"

"That have 'smelled the smoke' and 'seen the elephant' (Arthur finger-quoted), have been trying to help her. Primarily Russians, veterans of Afghanistan." He sighed, "They were trained for it, Elena wasn't."

"Which is to some extent my fault," Mattie said. "We should have anticipated possible attacks, and we've revised the training, but what do we do about Elena?" Bill handed her the email, and she scanned it; then sat back. "You tell me, she's your sister."

Julie was sitting there, stunned. "Elena… our sister Elena … she's killed someone…"

"In combat," Bill said, excited. "That's something I'd like to see!"

"No, Bill." Arthur said coldly, "You would not. This isn't a TV show or a video game. She was a living, breathing, person, someone's sister and daughter, who died a very stupid, ugly and unnecessary death. Think of one of us, your brothers or sisters dying."

Julie shook herself; "I'd like to see it, though. I want to … understand what's going on. Is it on tape?"

"It's on chip," Arthur said. "Professor McGonagall did say we could leave school if we had to."

"Okay," Mattie said. "You three go change to business wear, Arthur, you've got your pass card and such for the Intelligence offices at Canary Wharf?" He nodded; she continued, "You go change, I'm going to go pick up your Dad."

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Tuesday, October 1, 2002: 05:36 (GMT -5)
Terra, Grandview Heights, Morton home:
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Bill Morton grumbled a bit when he heard the front doorbell; he was just fixing his morning coffee. Teela put down hers and said, "I'll get it." Her slippers flopped, he could hear her unlatching the front door, "Hey, good morning!" She called, "Mattie's here!" then, "Want a cup of coffee?"

"Thanks, I'm always up for a cup," she replied as she walked in the kitchen. "Sorry, forgot the time zones, it's … (she looked at the clock and winced) … early." She accepted a cup; "Professor McGonagall got your email about Elena; she pulled us out of second-period." She sipped her cup, adding, "Julie and Bill wanted to see the video of the incident, they were going to change and go with Arthur down to Canary Wharf, I came by to pick you up."

"Means I need a suit and tie," Bill said, rubbing his unshaven chin. He took a slurp of coffee as his wife came in, "The bathroom is free. Good morning, Mattie. You're here about the email?"

"Yes, ma'am," she replied. "We got pulled out of second-period class."

"Okay," Teela said, putting down her own mug as her dad left to get ready. "Please stop dancing around the subject, what's going on with Elena?" She glared at Mattie, who only glanced at Maggie.

"Elena was involved in an … incident with Arthur and Mattie on Windfall, and she's suffered some … problems as a result," Maggie hedged.

"Oh, that's helpful," Teela snorted. She glared at Mattie, "Spill."

Taking a sip of coffee, Mattie regarded the other girl; then gave an eye to Momma Morton, who nodded. "The Elders sent some of their Guards, known as the Blacks, to attempt a kidnapping of Arthur and myself. We resisted, and there was some … violence as a result."

"And…" Teela made a circular motion with her wrist, "Come on; talk." They heard the shower cut off, Maggie sighed, "Go ahead and tell her, I want to know the details myself."

"Okay," Mattie said, taking another sip of coffee, "Boiling it down, we arrived on Windfall, did our bio-surveys of the abandoned colonies, then went to the Island where the Elders ruled." Maggie sat down with her own cup of coffee and nodded; Mattie continued. "The Elder in charge of the Security Ministry, Paavue, decided to have Arthur and I arrested and questioned, so he sent four of his Blacks to do the job. As one of them said, if we cooperated, they would consider (she finger-quoted) giving the bodies back."

"You mean torture," Teela said flatly.

"Yes, the Blacks were experienced in it, and remember, the Elders have, or rather had, total power." Teela nodded, licking her lips, and Mattie continued, "Now, when this little announcement was made, two of them already had Arthur, Helen, who is Elena's co pilot, fired up her anti-personnel laser while Elena and I went to fight for our guy." She gave a brief smile, "Now, the Blacks were rather minimally equipped, but we had a hostage situation. They were head-breakers and door-kickers, not what we would call police or military troops. Also, Paavue limited the amount of equipment and training the Blacks got, most of them only had nightsticks and a rather arrogant attitude."

"Go on, please," Maggie said, leaning over the table, her coffee forgotten.

"Paavue was in command, he issued orders and expected them to be followed. If he told his Blacks to jump, they wouldn't even ask 'How high?', they'd just do it." The other two nodded as she continued, "So the situation is this, Arthur's a hostage, two Blacks are holding him by the arms, the leader is talking big, and they've got one other girl back in support. Big-talk turns and looks into Helen's targeting laser, burning out her eye, so she naturally screams, which serves as a distraction. I'm on Arthur's right; Elena is on his left. We each grab a Black, I take mine down, breaking her elbow, while Elena, who isn't as much a martial artist, grabs and starts to wrestle with hers as Arthur tries to help." She took another sip of coffee; then simply added, "Elena had a combat knife."

"Oh, my god," Teela said. "She … the Black was only wounded…"

Mattie shook her head. "Elena saved Arthur's life against a hostile force." She took a deep breath, "We should have anticipated something like this, but hindsight, twenty-twenty, you know. We were focused on pirates attacking in space, not an attempted kidnapping in a supposedly friendly location."

"The fourth Black?" Maggie asked.

"Taken out by one of the bystanders," Mattie replied. "This kicked off a minor … well, I wouldn't call it a civil war, especially since civilians weren't involved. The Blacks continued to follow Paavue's original orders, the nighttime kidnapping ones; we'd lay a trap with infrared, drug them and ship them off to our prison. They weren't authorized to change tactics, so they didn't." She sighed, "We took about three hundred of the Blacks that way. It wound up with a final standoff on the High Street, Paavue had finally pried open a store room and issued something more dangerous than night sticks. He had a repeating wooden crossbow and a Black with a fairly primitive flamethrower as a personal guard. We had an experienced sniper, one shot from his Barrett and no more crossbow. The flamethrower girl we tried to talk her down, into disarming, but she wouldn't, and when she aimed at someone…" She sighed, "At least it was quick, she didn't suffer."

"That's something, at least," Bill Morton said as he re-entered, taking a last gulp from his coffee mug. "Teela, you're not going to talk about this. Go get changed, you need to catch the school bus."

"Yes, Dad," she replied, finishing her coffee with a gulp. As she left, Bill asked, "I've got my passport, anything else I need?"

"You might want to pack a bag, Mr. Morton," Mattie said. "If necessary, I'll take you to Windfall."

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Tuesday, October 1, 2002: 09:12 (GMT)
Orion Nebula, IMV Ngthsestr, Flight deck:
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"… so that's how that should work out," Yael Miller said, sitting back in her command chair and sipping her tea. "Your deposition, the legal statement, takes the place of your actually having to be there at trial."

"He was young, and wealthy, will that not be a factor in his trial?" C'ari asked as she sat the helm watch.

"To some extent," Yael agreed. "It will mean that his parents will hire the best attorney … er, speakers of law that they can. Against that, he apparently has done this before." She took a sip of her tea, "My understanding is that even if he walks away without punishment, his family's social status and influence will have taken a lot of damage. I don't think he will, though, he used what is known as an 'unforgivable' spell on you…" A flashing light came up on C'ari's panel, and Yael took a step forward on her small bridge to look over the redhead's shoulder. "It looks like we've got company…" and reached forward to flip switches, bringing the small ship's weapons and shields fully on line. "Warm up the stealth field, and increase speed as much as you can," she ordered.

Resuming her seat, she flipped a switch, pressing a button, and an alarm went off. "Now hear this. We've got company closing in on us from aft. Arm yourselves and prepare to fight."

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Tuesday, October 1, 2002: 12:47 (GMT)
Terra, London, Canary Wharf, Cabot Square:
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A cool breeze blew off the Thames, funneled by the surrounding skyscrapers and muted by the bushes and trees in the public square. Big Bill Morton sipped his coffee; the smokers and people finishing up lunch ignored them, while Crystal and Steve kept watch. "What next?" he asked.

"Up to you," Mattie replied. "If you want to go to Windfall, I can take you and Crystal with me, we have some ships there scheduled to leave there and return to Earth in a week or two. I should check into a couple things there anyway."

"Can we go?" Little Bill asked excitedly, and was flatly answered by his father, "No." He looked at Mattie, "Can you get back here in time?" She nodded as Little Bill groaned, and Arthur dialed his new cell phone, "Mom's cell phone, Dad."

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"I haven't been here before," Julie mentioned. "It's a lot bigger than it looks on the map, and that new place, it only has two clients on the sign," she said, looking at the almost-complete building.

"Only needs two," Mattie said, sipping her coffee. "We, the Empire that is, will be leasing it, and we should keep the coffee shop busy. Consolidation. Anyway, that lake is the 'Middle Dock', a few hundred years ago when this used to be one of the major shipyards. We're not as close to the Tube stations as some people would like, but a bit of exercise won't hurt them."

"And if you're taking the Tube and walking, the brass can hardly complain," Little Bill said, and Mattie raised her eyebrow. "Politically astute comment, there, Mr. Morton. Maybe we should get you re-sorted for the Den." Bill shuddered, "No, thank you. I'm not that good a plotter."

"You can learn," Julie said, with a wink at Mattie, "You can work up to coups…" she was interrupted by her big brother, "It's arranged. Crystal and Dad will go with Mattie by Ring to Windfall. Crystal apparated home to pack a bag, she'll meet us at Hogwarts."

"Darn," Little Bill said. "I was hoping we'd get the whole day off."

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Tuesday, October 1, 2002: 13:32 (GMT)
Orion Nebula, IMV Ngthsestr, Flight deck:
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"Greetings, Ngthsestr, this is your friendly neighborhood Lantern," a young woman's voice suddenly said on the bridge. "It seems like you've got a bit of company. What's your status?"

"Who… where?" Yael looked around for the voice.

"Right now, I'm outside your starboard personnel hatch with two passengers. If you could open and pressurize it, we can come aboard."

Jumping up, Yael crossed to the small engineering panel and did so, leaving the bridge. After a minute, she re-entered with three people, a middle-aged man wearing a slightly rumpled business suit, a young woman in her twenties, and a teenager wearing a green leotard and black tights. She took a seat in midair, folding her legs as Yael said, "Um, that's C'ari on helm, I'm Captain Yael Miller, and you're…."

"Crystal, rather superfluous bodyguard for Miss Green Lantern over there," the twenty-something said, somewhat sourly, and the man snorted, "Welcome to my life. Bill Morton, and an hour ago we were standing in London."

"Morton?" C'ari asked from the helm. "By chance, are you related to a Lord Arthur Morton?"

"That's my second son, although I don't know about the 'Lord' part. He's engaged to Mattie here," and he gestured.

"Than I must thank you, Lord Morton, for your son has given me my freedom," C'ari said, and bowed as well as she could from her position.

Clearing her throat, Yael asked, "What are you going to do about our stalkers? They've ignored our signals."

"Go talk to them," Mattie said.

Crystal sighed, and pulled her jacket straight. "Be right there, Miss Wayne. Can I borrow your loo to freshen up?"

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"I don't know why you keep me on," Crystal grumbled. "With that bloody thing you can crack planets like nuts, you don't need me."

"Of course I do," Mattie replied. "I don't have enough friends that I can let a good one like you go. Besides, if you talk to Arthur, you'll find out I never wanted the thing." She waved her right hand, "And now I've gone and hurt its feelings."

"Hurt the Ring's feelings?" Crystal snorted.

"Yep," Miss Wayne replied. "It's at least partially sentient. We're here."

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Bill Morton sat in the ship's common room, talking to some of the girls and getting an idea of what his son's summer trip had been like. One girl, a shorthaired platinum blonde had a British accent, but was strangely reticent to talk about that. A set of twins wore steel-grey hair, and the ship's owner was also wearing a slave collar. They were more open regarding that, becoming far more animated with their prospects of a 'dark collar'. He sat back and sipped his tea, this had originally been a smuggling ship, and the girls had to achieve the galactic equivalent of 'able seaman' to qualify for that dark collar. T'ara, the owner, clarified how she, as a nominal slave (and convicted smuggler) could still legally own the ship, even if she couldn't sign contracts. They seemed very positive about their future prospects, even if the two twins did argue like sisters, one being more hotheaded; the other coolly reflective.

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Crystal watched as the Captain, a felinoid wearing what she understood as a common collar, took a swipe at Miss Wayne with his razor-sharp steel talons. She had tossed her the Ring, ordering her not to interfere with the fight under any circumstances. She sprang up, spinning over the Captain and landing on his back forward of his mid-limbs, her own blades on her hands. Crystal had no idea where she had acquired them from, the outfit she wore was skin-tight. She had simply reached under her arms and pulled them out, and the fight for the ship and crew was on. She had already seen blood from both combatants.

The off-duty ship's crew, including the slaves owned by the ship, watched along with her as Miss Wayne was bucked off, he spun and landed a gash on her thigh with a claw concealed in the tip of his tail, gathering a cheer from his crew and frantic betting as she spun on a hand, both feet hitting his side. Crystal heard the snap of bones, the Captain twisting in midair, taking another swipe with his left foreclaws. She pushed off, the lethal claws passing under her, and reached down, using the momentum to return to his back, just behind his forward shoulders. She reached down, pulling his chin sharply up, and placed her own claws on his throat, asking, "Yield?"

"Kill us. We shall not return to slavery," he said hoarsely.

"Did I say anything about that?" she panted. "I don't want you as slaves, we have shed blood in a glorious fight. You have stood for your ship and crew; I honor that. I simply asked if the fight should continue."

"You have me, take me and spare my crew," he replied, and made a mark with a claw on his dark-furred cheek. She released his chin, once again hiding her own claws, and climbed off his back, offering her hand. "We have fought together, I do not enslave those who have shed blood with me in defense of their ships and crews. Your honor is intact."

He stood, moving stiffly as a hand went back to touch his ribs. "A solid blow, and a good one. I regret to say my honor has my belly in the dirt since I was forced to accept this," and a foreclaw tapped his slave collar. "I restored my honor a bit, but I was forced by steel to watch as my mate was sold off as a toy. I killed the s'a'nan'a at first chance, taking his ship (he tapped the deck) but as an escaped slave myself, I could not pursue her buyer." He stood as erect as he could, "Thus my honor lies in the dirt with my belly. Take me, spare my crew and ship."

Miss Wayne sat on the deck, wheezing a bit from exertion. "I see no dirt, but an honorable being whose path has been rough." She motioned with her head, "What of the ship's slaves?" Those lifted their heads from where they lay bound on the deck.

"They are titled to the ship, I do not possess the owner's wand. I remember well my own days as slave."

"Then perhaps we might strike a bargain to suit all concerned," Miss Wayne said. "Crystal, my Ring, please, and if you would call Yael and tell her 'Masada' I would appreciate it."

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"Masada? That's it?"

"That is the entirety of the message, mistress," C'ari replied. Yael huffed and sat, and Bill gently asked, "What does it mean?"

"Like that bloody postcard you see: 'Having good time, wish you were here,'" Yael replied. "Basically, don't worry, we'll call later."

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"When you raided a ship," Mattie asked, sipping her tea. "How did it go?"

"We killed only in self-defense," the Captain replied in a rumbling growl. "We took no slaves, what had we with need of them? No, we took only what the ship and crew required, Fuel, supplies, parts, and easily found tungsten. Our engineer would disable their weapons and engines to give us time to depart, and we would leave."

He eyed Mattie over his own mug of tea as she considered, his black eyes gazing into her green ones. "I see…" she finally said, sitting back and raising her mug, regarding him over the rim. "What will you do?"

"It is not my decision, but yours," he rumbled. "I wear a collar, I have lost personal combat; the ship is yours, as are the crew and slaves. I only ask that you kill me and spare them, they are all experienced spacers and will gain you a good price when you sell them."

"I would rather not sell anyone," she replied. "You said the slaves were titled to the ship. Would you free them?"

"I cannot do so, I wear a collar myself…" he replied, then at her gesture continued. "They have served me well, through some magic I might, I would, and wish them luck in finding a berth as they wear a collar." He put down his own mug of tea, "Once a spacer is collared, should they escape their owner, their ship, they have few resources, little choice but to sign with pirates and smugglers as quickly as possible. They must evade the slave hunters and the slavers, as well as their former owners and government. If they are caught, they are either killed slowly or placed on the market after lengthy punishment, to serve as example and remind other slaves of their place." He extended a foreclaw to run on the rim of his tea mug. "Now that has fallen to us, I ask only you kill me instead of my crew. They will gain you a good amount of tungsten when you sell them."

"I am inclined," she said slowly, "To allow you to prove yourselves. We have other pirates that we have captured; they have said the same. Some have bounties on their heads, yes; we could sell them or turn them in for tungsten. However, we have more need of experienced crew at the moment. We place some of our naval personnel in command, like the small mail boat you were pursuing. The system they were headed for could use a frigate for system defense. We are in the early stages of colonizing the planet." She ran her own index finger around the rim of her mug. "You would wear the System Governor's collar, but would otherwise be free." She turned to regard the mixed-species crew; "The slaves titled to the ship would be declared 'surplus to need' and then petition the Governor for their freedom. She would then decide."

"We might gain a dark collar, mistress?" a slender female wearing Enhancement and a judicial collar asked.

"You might. I notice you're wearing penalty brands and judicial tattoos. I don't think anything can be done about your enhancement, though. It would depend on the individual." She put the mug down with a decisive click. "Let's go get the Owner's Wand, and we'll give you until planet orbit to think about it."

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Wednesday, October 2, 2002: 01:01 (GMT)
Seconday, 3 Octus, 162, 25:48 (WFT +1)
Windfall, Port Lincoln, 'The Embassy':
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The buzzer was loud in the darkened room; Benni fumbled for the switch to silence it, then said, "What?"

"Sorry to wake you, ma'am," a voice said. "The mail boat just made contact, they'll be clearing the inner Belt and landing shortly, but Tracking also has another ship in trail of them. Emissions are frigate class; a warship." The voice paused; "They also picked up an Oan power ring, ma'am."

"Joy. Give me a minute to throw some clothes on, what did they say?"

"Yes, ma'am. They asked that Ensign Morton be available to meet them, I've passed that message on to the Fuller. She's coming down by shuttle, ETA about ten minutes."

Benni was pulling off her nightie, thankful that the connection was voice-only. "Okay, have her come up to the Embassy, I'll get some coffee going. Thanks."

"Yes, ma'am."

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"How many fingers am I holding up?" Helen asked, and Elena blinked owlishly at them. "Um … eight?" she giggled.

"Two." She turned her partner around, walking her to one of the rows of seats, sitting her there and buckling the belt as her co-pilot initiated startup. "Gunny, could you keep an eye on her? She's been at the engineer's hooch again. Doc Livingston gave me a sober-up, but I don't want her puking on my nice clean deck."

"Been there, got the t-shirt," Gunny Sink agreed, accepting the injector and slamming Elena back into her seat as she tried to stand. "Better she does it in some bushes dirtside. G'wan, get this bucket moving." Helen gave a sketchy salute, and Gunny Sink called, "Don't salute me, I work for a gaw-dam living!"

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"… Urrrk …" Elena gagged as she knelt in the grass, and Gunny Sink said, "Get it all out, Morton, that's a good girl. I wish we had one o' those gaw-dam wizards around to get rid o' the mess, though."

"It's bio-degradable, Gunny," Miss Wayne said to the older woman in the space-black uniform. The Gunny turned, giving a leisurely salute, "Ma'am, didn't hear you."

"Grass will do that," Miss Wayne replied, returning the salute. "I've got someone else to keep an eye on the ensign." She gestured, and Big Bill went to help his daughter as Miss Wayne continued. "Her father, and former US Navy. She'll be fine, I wanted to talk about some TDY with you."

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"Here's the situation, Gunny," Miss Wayne said as Governor Castellano sat down with them at the kitchen table, her mug clicking on the wood. "We've got two groups of semi-reformed pirates, an under-crewed frigate, and green Terran crews. We have the Owner's Wand (she waved the slim rod, then placed it on the table), which is the master key for the ship. Opens any door, enables or disables anything aboard. However, we're in need of experienced ship's crew, so I offered them a deal. We put some of our people on board, including Marines, for training. The existing crews are merged, and offered essentially their freedom, although they will wear the Governor's collar."

"How many pirates total?" Benni asked, picking up the Wand and examining it. It looked like a large flathead bolt with glowing LEDs, about ten inches long.

"With the group from before, around sixty or so. Frigate has a crew capacity of around fifty, there's twenty-two in this batch, including the ship's slaves. They're titled to the ship, so we mark them as 'surplus to need' by the ship's owner, which gets them off the ship's books as slaves, they can then petition the court (she jabbed her thumb at Benni) for their freedom. Some of them have judicial collars, what I was thinking is offering essentially the same deal as our rescued hotel girls. If they want a trip through the med-tank for whatever reason, that's part of the deal and the contract they sign."

"We can have three crews, Red, White, and Blue, like the Navy has with their boomers," Gunny Sink said, sipping her tea. "As the most hazardous part of the voyage is the trip through the Nebula, make that escort part of the training rotation. It also allows us to train with the enemy, so to speak." She thought for a minute in silence, "Yeah, I like it. If the pirates get squirrelly on us, we'll have the guns, but they're better off to cooperate. Similar ship's uniform, use a … silver bodysuit, though, and no stupid slave belt."

"Use some of them on the stations, too," Benni said. "Some of our current 'pirates' (she finger-quoted) want to stay dirtside for now. For each crew, figure twenty or so former pirates, ten Terran Navy officers, and thirty Marines."

"Full strength rifle platoon is 36, plus medics and the Platoon Commander, a butter bar, and Platoon Sergeant," the Gunny commented. "Three watches, we can use the medics aboard ship. Yeah, that will work. I'm in."

"What would the crews do off the ship?" Benni asked.

"If Red is on duty, White would be off and on liberty. Blue would be on deck and training, just like a watch rotation, only for… three months a watch. Nine months in the planetary year, and we've got a new year coming up in about three-four weeks." The Gunny finished her tea, "Take that long to get this set up, I think. Do some preliminary training, run people through the courts and the med-tanks, issue uniforms, that kinda thing. We want to make them somewhat uniform, now they're basically civilians. Run 'em through a quickie boot camp."

"Only problem I have with that is the off-duty crews," Benni said. "The pirates would be undisciplined, I'd rather have shorter rotations at first, a month for each crew, then extend it to three months after a year, three rotations. That should let us get a better feel for them."

"Screw the training schedule all to hell, though," the Gunny objected. "Yeah, we don't have a base to confine 'em to, and I can see the security aspects. Ah, hell, let's do this thing," she said, standing.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Let's take a walk," Bill told his daughter, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. He was now dressed in a set of field grey fatigues and black combat boots; they meandered through the complex, taking the shaded paths as people walked around them. Winding up at the corral, they stopped as Bill looked on. "Whoa, those are big."

"They're called shonnen," Elena said, leaning on the thick walls next to him. The muddy, whitish skinned oxen ignored them, lying in the shade of the trees, calling to each other occasionally in their surprisingly high-pitched voices. She regarded the animals for a few minutes, and then told them, "I find it strange you came halfway across the galaxy because I've become a lush. A drunk. Come to take me home?"

"Nope," he replied. "Came to offer a shoulder if you need it, an ear to listen, and maybe some advice." He glanced sideways at Elena, who was studying the shonnen. "I've heard Arthur's account of the incident, Ms. Castellano's, and Mattie's. I've seen the recordings, and I'm not here to pass judgment. You know the Board of Inquiry reviewed what went down." She nodded hesitantly, still studying the shonnen. "I've seen your report, and quite honestly, I don't think it's accurate. It's not you, Elena. You've changed, and I want to hear it. There's a reason you've retreated into a bottle, you've never needed that kind of crutch before."

She was silent for quite a while, then said, "I see her. See her face. B'iana. The girl I killed. She was about my age; I could easily have been her. I see her expression, I see her terror…" She was silent, "I stuck a knife into her, into her heart, and I watched her die, Dad. It wasn't quick, like a gunshot. She … she could feel it." She reached down, drawing a knife out of her right boot. "This knife, Dad. And then, when Arthur said … well, he wasn't holding her, he wasn't inches away from her face …"

Bill accepted the knife; it had a long, slim blade with a serrated back. He handed it back, "You had a gun, why not shoot her?"

"I might have missed and hit someone else," she said as she accepted the knife.

"From a few inches? I doubt it," he replied. "Even a gut shot would have ended it."

"I … I know, but I was so mad, they had Arthur, he was my brother, and the blade, the knife just kind of … appeared in my hand, and then it was in her, and …" Elena's voice was almost robotic. "Mattie took her enemy out without killing her, why didn't I?"

"She has a lot more martial arts training than you do," Bill replied. "Let's break this down. The Blacks appear and say they want to take Arthur off and torture him to death. They grab him; they're now enemies, and he's at risk. What are your options?"

"You're not the first to go through this with me, Dad," she said, turning to look at him. "Get him back or let him go. It doesn't help when B'iana comes to visit me at night."

"Then perhaps we should go visit her," a voice said, and Bill Morton turned to see an extremely fit young man in field grey fatigues like Bill's standing at parade rest. "Hauptmann Hans Gruber, Herr Morton," he said, offering his hand. As Bill shook it, he continued, "Fähnrich (Ensign) Morton's commander. I have told her the same thing, perhaps she will accept it from you." Elena started to say something, and he raised a hand. "I have also told her that the responsibility for training and equipping personnel is the commander's, not hers. Therefore, the ghost is also my duty to dispel."

"I assume the training syllabus has been revised," Bill said.

Gruber nodded, "The locals may look human, but they are not. They are humanoid, slightly stronger than we are, but there are differences with internal organs, pressure points and such. That is irrelevant at the moment, I wanted to extend the offer to visit the girl's family." He nodded and moved off, and Elena watched him go.

Bill watched him also, then said, "Interesting offer. Seems like a nice enough fellow."

"Dad! Are you trying to set me up?" Elena said, exasperated.

Bill chuckled, "No, but I've distracted you. What's been going on here?"

"Dad!"

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

As their jeep moved up the gravel drive, they saw the farm's slaves watching them, and one ran toward the house. As they parked, Bill Morton saw the curtains in the front window move, and said, "They know we're here, they're probably wondering why." Beside him, Elena took a deep breath as Hauptmann Gruber knocked twice on the door. They waited patiently, and the door opened, the father looking out; asking "Yes?"

"We're here about your daughter, B'iana," Bill said.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Noooooo!" the mother cried, and the father leaped at Elena, Bill moving to block him. They struggled together, Bill telling his daughter, "Outside, Elena. We'll settle this, one father to another." He grunted, his foot slipping as Gruber jerked his head, Elena and B'iana's brother and sisters moving outside.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"I'm C'iina," the daughter said, adding, "Talk." The daughter stood outside, breath mask over her face, arms crossed and stared at Elena. "What happened to B'iana?"

"Perhaps it would be best if you told us what you know, and we may proceed from there," Gruber said from the doorway where he stood.

"Very little," the son said. "We received her regular Fifthday letter of the 7th of Quintus, and then nothing. There was nothing in the code that indicated something special…"

"There was a brief mention of you Terrans," C'iina added. "She said opinion in the squad was split over you, the hardliners…"

"Like Mother," the other daughter added.

C'iina nodded, "Like Mother, who believe in the Wisdom of The Elders (they could hear the capital letters), and the moderates and unsure, like B'iana."

Elena could see C'iina chewing her lip under her breath mask, and didn't notice Gruber going back inside. She sighed, "Everything seemed to be going okay, we seemed to get along, and then the Blacks sent four of their troopers, including B'iana, to kidnap and torture Mattie and my brother Arthur. They said if we were good and cooperated, they'd consider (she finger-quoted) giving back the bodies."

"Mother would say, 'I'm sure the Elders had a good reason,' C'iina remarked.

"The thing is, the other Elders didn't know anything about it, it was all Paavue's idea," Elena replied. "We couldn't just let them take Arthur, who they already had, so we fought back and …"

"And B'iana died," the brother said as Elena slid down the post she rested against.

"Yes…" Elena said, tears on her face. "She had my brother, she was going to kill him, and…"

The son took a few steps, "How did she die?"

"A knife … this knife … in her heart…" Elena said, drawing the blade from her boot. "She was in my arms, I could see her face, closer than we are now, I could see her sweat, her terror, she knew she was dying…" She closed her eyes, putting her head down on her raised knees and sobbed, and didn't even notice when the blade was removed from her hand.

"I should kill you," C'iina said, and Elena replied, "There are times when I wish you would." She raised her head, regarding the local who held her knife by the tip. "I killed your sister…"

"And afterward, what happened to her?"

"We…" Elena swallowed, "We asked her squadmates what a proper burial would be. Our ship's surgeon, our healer, tried to save her, but…" Elena took a deep breath; "We followed their guidance, even asked them to conduct the ceremony, and passed on what we had of her possessions to her Commander to get them back to you."

"None of which we've received," C'iina said softly. "We haven't even had a letter from Elder Paavue, and her pay hasn't come for over two months, and then when you appear today saying she's dead…"

"All of which we thought the Elders would do," Elena said softly. "It's the only proper thing to do, we have a tradition that the commander will write a letter home for a member of his unit that dies... we try to return the bodies of our military forces home if we can."

"Not let the families wait and wonder, or try to get news through the slave network," C'iina said. "They may have current news in High Town, but here on the farms, we don't." She regarded Elena and the knife for a minute; then extended the blade to the Terran. "What's been going on, and I find it very ironic that we have to get news from the enemy."

"I'm not your enemy," Elena replied as she slowly accepted the blade.

"You killed my sister. Even if it was in saving your brother, you still killed her," C'iina replied. "Talk, Terry. What's going on?"

"You know about the currency change? The first of the year it changes from iron based to tungsten based, like the rest of the galaxy. Seventy-two to one ratio," and the locals winced. "Whoever of the Elders, we think it was Daala, decided to base the economy on iron made a really stupid decision." She drew a line in the dirt with the tip of her blade, "It's like basing it on sand. An actual real conversion would be seventy-two million to one, but we didn't want to destroy the economy."

"Thank you very much, Terry. What about Daala and the other Elders?"

"Daala lost a court match, a fight in High Town, and the court put a collar on his neck," Elena replied. "He's with Baasht, last I heard. Baasht sold out to us; he's in exile on his island. Zuunti was killed by a mob; Taaman and Paavue were captured in High Town."

"Mother's going to be so pleased with that," C'iina remarked sarcastically. "What else?"

"No plague, and so no mask laws. We're reworking the planetary, or rather, the system Constitution, and we're starting to colonize, we, the Terran Empire."

"So if I understand you, Paavue tried to start a war with an interstellar empire?" the brother asked.

"And failed miserably, from what we've heard," the younger sister said.

"We tried to hold the casualty count down," Elena said, and regarded her knife, "Usually, in a war, one side tries to completely destroy the other. Fatalities number in the millions, not just two." She examined the knife, "B'iana was one. The other was one of Paavue's bodyguards, she held a flamethrower, a weapon, on someone in High Town." With her free hand, she cleaned the tip of dirt and slid it back into her boot sheath. "What else do you want to know?"

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

To: Mom (home)
CC: Arthur (school), Julie (school), Bill (school)
From: Elena Morton
Date: 1 October, 2002
Subject: From Dad

Hello, everyone!

Dad here, I'm borrowing Elena's email account aboard ship. I've obviously arrived safely, and this is a very pleasant planet. Arthur, I'm going to need to talk to you.

Elena is physically okay, but she's having trouble dispelling the ghost of B'iana. We visited the girl's family, and it was traumatic, as they hadn't received any information from the Elders about her death. Elena seems a bit better for it; she spent quite a bit of time talking with B'iana's brothers and sisters, while Hauptman Gruber and I dealt with her parents.

As far as this system goes, Maggie, there's a neighborhood meeting coming up. I'd like to suggest that we invest in this system with some of the profit from our atmosphere mining. Other than that, I'd like to…

Arthur was confident about what he'd reported on the fight his sister had been in, but knew that others didn't share his viewpoint. Still...

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Bill Morton found his daughter leaning on the shonnen pen's wall. He set a sealed flask of the engineer's hooch on the wall between them, leaning over to watch the huge oxen. After a minute, he asked, "This helps?"

"It helps the … memories go away," she replied, not looking at him.

He grunted, and was silent for a minute, then added, "You know, alcohol damn near killed your Uncle Rich, not to mention destroying his health, his military career and his first marriage."

Elena nodded, "Yup."

Bill reached over, turning the lab flask on the concrete wall. "Now, if you're trying to kill yourself, this'll work … eventually. It's not very efficient, though, and it puts others at risk. Still, if you're determined to go that route…"

"Dad!"

"What?"

"I killed someone!"

"Yes, you did." He looked over his shoulder at his daughter, "That person was attacking you. You reacted in self-defense. Furthermore, she had said she wanted to torture and kill your brother, your future sister-in-law and pretty much anyone else she felt like torturing and killing."

"You're saying I shouldn't feel guilty?"

"Yes, damn it!" He turned, "I know, the Bible says 'Thou shalt not kill,' but that's different!" He slapped a palm on the concrete, "Damn it, Elena! There's a difference between sticking a knife in someone on a city street for the hell of it, and fighting back. You're confusing the two, and you're picking the wrong example. If you're shopping with Teela and someone were to try to drag her into an alley, wouldn't you go help her?"

"Well, yes, but…"

Bill waved that off, "But me no buts. Same type of situation, you're defending someone. Yes, the details are different, but Elena, you have to find a better way to deal with it."

"Huh?"

"You're drowning in self-pity. That's crap, you know it is, and it needs to stop. You know, objectively, who is actually responsible for B'iana's death, but you haven't accepted that. Don't you think if you were guilty, someone would have told you that?" She started to reply, and he continued, "If you still feel you've done something wrong, try to make up for it."

"I killed someone. How the hell do I make up for that?" Elena nearly shouted.

"Try saving a life, like your own," Bill said. "There's a difference between being remorseful, and being self-destructive. You can't undo what's been done; you can't bring B'iana back to life. But you can't do anything when you're hiding in an alcoholic fog." He pushed off the wall, and walked away from the shonnen pen, leaving her to think and study the clear fluid in the flask. She turned it around in her hand; then walked a few steps, dumping the 140 proof into the shonnen's water tank, and the flask in the trash. If she needed, if she wanted it, she knew where to go, but right then, she didn't.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Listen up, people," Gunny Sink said to the group of former 'pirates'. "Find a chair and claim it, we ain't got a lot of time." They took seats, the canids sitting up on the floor in front. Mattie stood behind them, against the wall, as Benni took over.

"Good morning," she said. "For the purpose of this meeting, you are all considered to be free. We have a frigate docked at the station, as some of you know. We have a deal to offer that we strongly advise you take. There are currently two hundred twenty three of you here. For those that accept, they will get their freedom as well as training as Imperial Navy crew. We are aware that most of you, if not all, are currently running, either as escaped slaves, or as wanted felons. What we propose is …"

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Mistress, you propose we wear your collar; in exchange we get training?" one slave asked. "It seems that I'm simply trading one owner for another."

"My collar would be for legal purposes only, and as I said, with your judicial collar you would go before the court and explain yourself and why you're wearing it," Benni replied. "Based on that, I would decide to keep you in a collar, nullify your conviction, or whatever seems just. If you need to keep wearing it, it would be for a certain amount of time. A few weeks ago, I moved a smuggler from a lifetime collar to seven years. Based on continued good behavior, she can apply for a reduction in that sentence, and cannot be sold without her consent." This caused a ripple of comment.

"I might be completely free, mistress?" the slave asked.

"We don't have a way to remove Enhancement, although we do reprogram it so you're not forced to keep saying 'Master'. With that, yes, you would be a free female with a dark collar, we have several bred slaves that we've done that for." She tented her fingers, "The alternative to this way of gaining our trust would be a prison cell."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Wednesday, October 2, 2002: 06:08 (GMT)
Terra, Hogwarts, Faculty meeting:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Miss Wayne?" Minerva paused for a second, then asked, "Mattie?"

The girl continued to sleep, and Poppy Pomfrey waved her wand over her. "Exhaustion. What has the girl … never mind, I'll find out eventually. I'm putting her into the Infirmary for the day with some sleeping potion. Excuse us, everyone." With a flick of her wand, the Mediwitch levitated her, sniffing, "So much for getting adequate rest…" as she left.

"So, Arthur, did your father take care of matters?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. "I got a quick email from him, my sister … well, the problem is temptation. There's a lot of beer on planet, the ship's got the traditional engineer's still, there are a lot of Russians and Germans with booze available, and she has to admit that she's got a problem."

"Speaking as an alcoholic," Harry Potter spoke up, "There is no such thing as 'recovered'. Everyone has to find his or her own tactic, I find I think of what Ginny would say (he turned to look at his wife, who smiled and took his hand), and that gives me the strength. One day at a time, that's what it boils down to, mate. I'll be happy to talk to her when she's next on planet."

"Thank you," Arthur said. "I appreciate that, sir." He took a sip of tea to cover his embarrassment.

Clearing her throat, Minerva rapped her knuckles, "Moving on, Poppy was going to cover the PE results, Narcissa, would you do the honours?"

"Certainly," the tall, aristocratic blond witch said. "By House, Gryffindor has the least numbers of students taking part in extracurricular sports. The most popular is of course Quidditch, but the muggle footy seems to be taking hold, as well as basket ball (she pronounced it as two words)."

"Both require a lot of running in all directions," Arthur said. "What about the runners and marathoners?"

"I am coming to that, Mr. Morton," she replied coolly. "Either sport is welcome, as it develops reflexes and muscle tone, although not the endurance that distance running does. There are still some students and faculty (she passed out lists to the Heads), who will do the bare minimum, if that."

There was silence as they were perused, after a minute; Minerva rapped her knuckles on the table again, "Thank you, Narcissa. Did Sybill grace us with her presence today?" She looked around, "Apparently not."

"She is also not showing up for her scheduled classes," Filius said. "Students are not showing up, leaving, or using her class for study time, as they did for Horace's History lessons."

Severus sighed, "I shall…"

"No, Severus," Minerva said. "It is not your responsibility, but mine." She took a deep breath, "This cannot go on. While I am hesitant to cast anyone out in the cold, cruel world, she did sign a contract to teach, not to drown her sorrows in cooking sherry. Moving on, Pomona? You had an inquiry from Miss Branstone?"

"Yes, on behalf of her elder sister Eleanor," the Herbology professor replied. "She had a problem with several plants that went with her off world, and was inquiring as to remedies and our consulting rates. That is what I thought we needed to discuss before I reply."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Thursday, October 3, 2002: 09:38 (GMT)
Terra, Hogwarts, 3rd year potions:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Julie looked up as a long-fingered hand stopped her from adding the ingredient to her potion. "Miss Morton, should you include shavings of Monkswood at this point, what will happen?"

"Um…" Julie checked her notes, "It should turn light blue and bubble."

"You are two steps off," Professor Snape replied, his long finger tapping her textbook. "Should you add the Monkswood now, what will happen, Mr. Ramirez?"

"Exothermic reaction, senor," the Ravenclaw replied.

"Precisely," the Potion Master drawled. He flicked his wand, and Julie's half-completed potion vanished. "This is not like you, Miss Morton, to make such an elementary error. You have detention tonight, where you will brew the potion to my satisfaction. Clean up and assist Mr. Ramirez with his potion until the end of class." He moved off, and Tomas leaned over to whisper, "What is wrong?"

"Family problem with my sister," she whispered back.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Thursday, October 3, 2002: 15:53 (GMT -5)
Terra, Columbus College of Art & Design:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

The instructor paused in his rounds, checking the students and asked, "Are you sure you want to use that fellow as a model, Miss Morton? He's … not the best looking."

Teela looked up, "Positive. Not only is that Mr. Griplink, our personal banker in London, he's semi-related to us, a really nice guy, and most importantly, he's my client." She unclipped a digital print she had taken in London, and handed it to him. In it, Mr. Griplink stood before an open vault, smiling toothily and gesturing inward, while a dragon edged into the frame in the lower left. She accepted the photo back, adding, "Besides, there's a lot more of us that aren't super-models than there are the 'beautiful people' (she finger-quoted)." She scooted back, standing to re-clip the photo to her frame, "Gringotts is a wild place for a bank, and just because they're goblins and have dragons guarding the vaults…" Shrugging, she tapped the bank's newly revised logo, the gold square 'G' now with the additional text: 'Affiliated with Lantern Bank' and a small green Lantern logo. "They're our interstellar bank, they have lots and lots of money; so if Mr. Griplink wants to be in the ad, I'll put him in."

"That's not the only ad for them, I hope," Mr. Minturn said.

"Nope," Teela replied, pulling two others out of her case. In one, an orbital collage showed space stations, ships, and a planet in sunshine, while the text read 'Thinking of moving out? We offer colonization loans.'

The other ad showed a stylized ship with a glowing exhaust heading for a large field of asteroids, with the text reading 'Setting up a business? We can help with our new colonization loans!' Teela shifted that one on her lap, "There's a lot of artistic license there. Grav drives don't have an exhaust, and asteroids aren't that close together." She shrugged and set the two back in her case as Mr. Minturn 'hmm'd, then moved on.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Thursday, October 3, 2002: 19:01 (GMT)
Fourthday, 5 Octus, 162, 07:48 (WFT +1)
Windfall, Port Lincoln, Shuttle pads:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"So, pray tell, o father of mine," Elena asked as she boarded the commuter shuttle behind Big Bill, "What am I doing assigned to you?"

"You are officially on TDY as my aide-de-camp," he replied, stowing their bags in the overhead compartment. He pulled his field grey fatigues straight, then sat down; then stood again to extract the straps from underneath. Elena helped him with them as he continued, "Governor Castellano gave me an official, though temporary assignment to the Riverside office; they need to get back on track. You are assigned to the Governor's office as an aide, which means you are out of uniform, Ensign. I've got an aiguillette (shoulder ropes) for you."

"Yes, sir," she replied.

As other people boarded the shuttle, Bill extracted them from his binder, "Right shoulder, please." As she put the golden ropes on her naval uniform, he said, "The office there has gone off track. We are supposed to assist the secondary sites in getting crops in the ground and their infrastructure built. Instead, in the absence of Governor Sullivan, they've just been going in circles, generating a lot of bureaucratic bull and demands for daily reports. That has to stop, we find the problem, fix it, and when Sullivan gets back from her home leave, we hand a smoothly running office over to her." His new aide nodded, and he continued, "Just to cover bases, we've got admin powers, but not judicial. Those we still need to refer to Governor Castellano. I'm speaking with her voice, and you're speaking with mine." He gestured at her new shoulder ropes, "Don't be hesitant to lay down the law, kick butt, and fire people if necessary, and I'll back you.

"Understood, sir," she nodded. "I may need to travel."

"Than you do," he said. "Touch base with the civil authorities, you'll be dealing with them in order to cut through the bull. Our mission right now is to get crops in the ground and food on the table. If you need assistance in financial matters, Gringotts has offered the use of their accountants. I'm going to use them to audit the Governor's books while I kick some butt myself." The shuttle's engines started to whine, and he added, "One other thing. You get more done with honey than vinegar. Kick ass when you need to, but don't be the REMF. You're there to help them, understood?" She nodded as the shuttle shivered for a moment, then he glanced out the port, and they were airborne.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"You can't go in there, master," the secretary said, standing in Big Bill's way. "That's the Governor's office; he ordered us not to interrupt him."

"I have an official appointment from Governor Castellano," he replied, holding out a hand, and Elena put a binder in it.

The collared slave blinked, "Another one, master? I don't understand." He looked at her, and she clarified, "Master Haak'n has a document from Governor Sullivan, master. She appointed him to replace her when she went back to Terra."

"Then I suggest you call Governor Castellano to confirm my appointment as Acting Lt. Governor. Speak directly to her. You," he addressed the other secretary. "Call the local sheriff and ask him to send someone over. I'll wait." He assumed the parade rest position, as did Elena, and waited while the first secretary dithered, then hesitantly picked up the comm.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"I gave orders not …" the man said, turning from where the dark-skinned slave girl was bound. She whimpered through her hood, and he stood there, hand holding the whip while a brazier glowed near him. Big Bill rocked on his feet, "Mr. Haak'n, I presume. I am Acting Lt. Governor Morton. I believe you are in my office, and I would like to know what you are doing."

"She is an errant slave, a mere female, and needs discipline," he replied. "I have a letter from former Governor Sullivan resigning and appointing me in her place. Now get out of my office!"

Bill turned slightly, "Sgt. Perry, were you aware of this?"

The Mountie shook his head, "No, Sir. I've confirmed your letter of appointment. Mr. Haak'n, if you have yours I'll check it and sort this straightaway."

"That seems reasonable," Bill said affably. "Mr. Haak'n, if you'll pass that letter over to Sgt. Perry? I'll wait."

"It's classified," the man snapped. "Get out of my office, I have work to do!" The bound slave whimpered where she lay, stretched on the rack.

"Really?" Bill asked. "Well, Governor Castellano would certainly know about something like this. Sgt. Perry, there's the comm, why don't you give her a call…" As the Mountie moved to the desk, Haak'n threw the whip at him and made a break for the door, only to meet Elena's shoulder block and leg sweep. He went down hard, the Sgt. throwing her a pair of handcuffs as he waited for the Governor to answer.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Rather poorly planned on his part," Bill said later as he and his daughter disassembled the rack. "You'd think he would anticipate we'd check this."

"He was flying under the radar, dad," Elena replied. "He browbeat the secretaries into signing things from 'The Governor's Office', and he could fake Governor Sullivan's signature, which is how he got a dark collar. He was stealing tungsten and waiting for a ship going out of the system. His bad luck he couldn't talk his way into a med-tank to rebuild his … (she cleared her throat) … equipment. One wasn't available. Pass me that wrench, would you?"

Bill flipped the adjustable wrench in his hand, passing it through the wooden frame. "Well, it looks like Christine didn't lay down the law, so I'm going to have to do it, and be a little over the top." He turned his own ratchet wrench as she braced the nut, "I'm a little more upset that her staff collectively let him pull this off. They should know by now the human position on torture: We don't. The minute he installed that rack and threw a slave on it, that should have been a sign that something seriously wrong was going on."

"Once Sgt. Perry completes his investigation, we're going to have to examine every bit of paper that went through this office. Now, that shouldn't be too long, and I can understand his wanting to get out of his collar before Christine came back."

"Makes sense," he agreed. "I'll mention it to Sgt. Perry and refer him to the Gringotts accountants." Elena pulled the last nut loose, and he asked, "Ready to lift? On three. One, two, three…"

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Elena straightened her uniform (as did Bill) after pushing through the small gap in the hedge, and knocked twice on the unmarked door in the brick wall. "Ms. Branstone? Ms. Laval? Are you in?"

There was the sound of a bolt being thrown, and a dusky-skinned girl wearing a collar with blue and green lights looked out through a small window. "I'm Marie Laval. What do you want, we're busy."

"I'm Ensign Morton, aide to Acting Lt. Governor William Morton," she replied, and Marie looked down the path as Elena continued. "Governor Castellano asked us to stop by, and mentioned that you two were the in-house witches." She added, "I have brothers and a sister at Hogwarts."

"Explains how you saw through the wards," Marie said, unbolting the door. "Come in, we've got fresh coffee."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"That explains what's going on with the Governor's office," Big Bill explained as his daughter (and aide) took notes. "Our objective right now, while the Mounties do their investigation, is to find out what we need to do to get seed in the ground and bread on the table. Where do you two stand?"

Eleanor looked at Marie, then at Bill. "We've got some accelerated growth potions we're brewing, and trying to figure out best placement and large-scale brewing. Some of them take dilution in water, some require a precise dosage, and some work best on trees, others on veg, others on bushes and vines." She took a sip of her tea, "We also have some that can be used during the life of the plant; others are starter potions."

"Also, some have a limited shelf life, and if you over-fertilize with some of them, it will have the opposite effect, killing the plant," Marie added. "We've also got some plants that will grow best as seedlings; we have two greenhouses; one is for wizarding plants like irontip; the other is for the muggle plants from the seed packets, which I understand your wife sent Governor Castellano, and is our cover operation." She took a slurp of coffee, then set her mug down. "We've got some irontip and bloodvine plants that are ready to seed, we're working on packaging and instructions. Tomorrow we're going to meet with one of the local machinists on a towed planting gizmo."

"Would you like to see them?" Eleanor asked.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Careful, there," Marie said as Bill leaned forward to look at the hanging bushes. They were rooted in foam blocks, which were hung on wooden frames. "We've got different spells running to check how they do during hot summer, a brutally cold winter, and other climates. They're hanging to let us monitor the root system."

"Makes sense," Elena said. "Only some are flowering, though."

"That's how they seed. The ones we're planning for the different sites are dwarf varieties," Eleanor said. "Edge carefully by these, our production plants are behind those, they're optimized for seed, these aren't. These are more than pretty ornamental hedges with nasty thorns; they are what the colonies will get. They'll grow up to about five or six feet."

"They do smell nice," Bill said, edging sideways along the path.

Behind him, a plant snapped at his leg, and Elena asked, "I understand shonnen use these as scratching posts?" She leaned forward to examine a thorn. It resembled a cast iron pike tip, about two inches long, and she took a step along the gravel path, dodging the snapping flower. "What about the bloodvine, and the tunneling wabbits?"

"The bloodvine can be trained to, um, appreciate certain pests," Eleanor replied from where she stood next to the wall. "Our understanding of the wabbits is they tunnel down to hibernate." She untied a line on a cleat, lowering another hanging frame from near the greenhouse's ceiling. She tied it off; moving toward it. It had a complex root system draped over an aluminum frame; "You do that by watering it with a dilute blood solution from the target pest. In this case, we've gotten live wabbits and bled them. While it won't ignore other prey, it will prefer wabbits."

"I understood the wabbits were dangerous to capture and approach," Bill asked, looking at a clipboard that hung from the roots' support frame. The roots were easily twenty feet long.

"They're not particularly intelligent, though," Marie replied. "More cunning than anything else. Put some fresh, bloody meat in a tubular trap, they'll run down it; then you just arrange the tube so they're stuck at the end with their throat exposed. The docs are working on an antivenin; we just slit the throats of their test animals." She moved toward the hanging roots, poking at them with an aluminum tube; the roots moved. "These will invade the animals' dens, when we package the seeds, we'll include some wabbit blood and instructions. Cut it ten to one or so, and use a sprayer to apply it."

"With a plowed, graveled 'death strip' (Eleanor finger-quoted) on either side of the barrier, that should be proof against any land-based pests." She used a sprayer on the plants; then raised them back toward the ceiling. "There are also other small animals, like foxes and such, this should serve to keep them out of the chickens."

"Insect pests?" Bill asked as Elena made notes.

"We don't know yet," Eleanor said hesitantly. "We don't want to kill off bees, they pollinate, but we also don't want mosquitoes. We don't know that much about the insects yet."

Bill nodded. "Okay. Let me see what your proposed packaging is."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Everything sounds good," Bill said in the small 'office' in the back of the greenhouses. He took a drink of his fresh coffee, "Now, what can I do to help you two out? Supplies, equipment, that kind of thing."

Marie traded glances with Eleanor; then said, "We'll take a rain check on that. Once we figure out quantities and so forth, we'll probably need larger scale brewing equipment, but that can be covered under chemistry and brewing beer."

"Brewing beer or whiskey probably wouldn't be a bad cover, either," Eleanor said, then glanced at Elena and blushed, "Er…"

"I'm trying to dry out," Elena commented. "What about those, um, charms in the bottles?"

"Totems," Marie corrected. "We could do those with industrial wands, but the drying charms aren't that difficult to do. We could do batch spell-casting on some marbles or muggle desiccants, but we're still experimenting. We're also thinking about offering a deposit on the containers, like soda bottles."

"Okay," Bill said, and gestured at the fairly small office. "Will this be large enough for your brewery?"

"Probably not," Eleanor said. "We'll need to expand, but once again, we'll take your marker on that. What about wizarding kit in the Grand Catalog?"

"We'll find out," Bill said, and Elena made a note, asking, "Could you use someone like Professor Snape? A Potion Master? Arthur and Mattie say he's tops in his field."

"We've already inquired about consulting rates through my sister," Eleanor replied. "Perhaps down the way a bit an assistant wouldn't be a bad idea, someone good with both potions and Herbology. What about financing the building expansion?"

Elena made another note, "We'll check with Governor Castellano." She looked around, "Anything else?" She closed her binder, "Next stop, sir, is the shops."

"Ask for Mr. Phillips," Eleanor said. "He's the supervisor over there, he's a bloody good bloke."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Friday, October 4, 2002: 08:03 (GMT)
Terra, London, Arrowhead auditorium:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Moving to the microphone, Mattie tapped on it, "Good morning, and let's get started. I've got a few announcements; then hopefully we'll have time for a few questions. First, a bit of good news, one of the women on Titan Base had a pair of twins, a boy and girl. Parents and kids are healthy and happy, and we wish them all the best."

There was a bit of comment on that, and she continued, "Second, as several of you noticed, we're redesigning the basic duty uniform along with the curriculum at the Corfu training base." She removed the microphone from the podium, joking, "This is my one chance to be a fashion model." There were chuckles, and she put a foot on a chair, "The boots remain the same, with the exception of built-in knife sheaths," and she switched the mike to the other hand, running a hand along her knee and lower thigh, "White leggings like I'm wearing for the Imperial Navy, black for the Imperial Marines. Field grey fatigues for the garrison troops on the ground, I took advantage of a German army surplus sale." Putting her foot down as people chuckled, she continued, "There is a turtleneck bodysuit underneath, gold for command, like I'm wearing, red for ship's services, blue for sciences, grey for training. I'd like to add that the leggings and bodysuit constitute light armor, each person is also issued custom-fitted combat armor." She indicated the black over-dress, "This would be normal duty wear for shipboard, standing a port watch, that type of activity. Duty hash marks on the right sleeve for both enlisted and officers, and we are including prior service." She indicated a diagonal bar next to the left cuff, "The band indicates your duty posting. We are also bringing back the fruit salad on the left breast due to high demand. The guys have a similar style of uniform."

Changing hands with the microphone, she indicated her belt. "I know some of you practice martial arts, and have heard of the kyu method of colored belts. Going from low to high, there's yellow, orange, green, blue, brown and black. We have worked up a combination technique and will be training all of our personnel. They will be expected to maintain proficiency, just like they are expected to meet physical fitness norms. Naval personnel will be expected to achieve at least an orange belt, Marines and Intelligence personnel at least a blue belt. What differentiates this is that we can anticipate going hand-to-hand with other species, including canids, felinoids, and much larger humanoids, who don't have their organs in the same places."

"Zoom in on my belt, please," and she gave the cameras a few seconds to do so. "Technically, I'm out of uniform, as I'm not wearing the normal duty sidearm, and I haven't yet qualified for my TEMP belt, so it should be white. That's Terran Empire Martial arts Program. However, I do have five black belts in various disciplines, so that's what I'm showing; a black belt with five white vertical stripes on either side of the red buckle. The red buckle indicates instructor status, and that's because I teach classes."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

In Hogwarts, the 'Royalty class' participants watched the news conference, Bea theatrically gulping, "Oy, now I need to learn that too?"

"You can do it," Arthur answered confidently. "I've got a green belt in Karate. I don't know what Imperial Intelligence's training curriculum is going to be; they're revising it now. I do know that it starts with basic Marine training."

"Shhh! They're continuing," Sprink said, conjuring popcorn.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"… the training syllabus will be extended. We're also working on designing bolt-on weapons modules to convert standard cargo and personnel shuttles to troop transport and attack shuttles in case a spacehead should turn hostile, we can then supply and extract personnel under fire." Mattie said. "As part of our design work for military spacecraft, we're also looking into fighter and transport designs, like helicopters."

"You've said the Solar Guard is like the Coast Guard," someone called.

"I'll get to questions in a minute, but even the Coast Guard sometimes needs to call on heavier firepower than a 9mm pistol, especially if the fishing boat refuses to heave to for boarding," she replied.

Putting a hand up, "Excuse me," and put down her mike, turning away and opening her cell phone. "Can I get that on my machine here?" some of the journalists heard, and then she moved to the laptop connected to the projector system. They watched her log in to a different site, a banner flashed 'Imperial Intelligence Operations' and then she unplugged the monitor. She worked on the screen for a moment; then said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a foreign starship loading in Guangde County, that's on the east coast of Red China. They are…" she stopped talking, then reconnected the monitor. A satellite view came on, centered on an area about a hundred meters across. In that, an alien could be seen talking with a portly Chinese official holding a clipboard, pallets of goods were stacked up, being loaded and offloaded, while a chain of female slaves waited, kneeling naked in the sun. The two finished their conversation, the Chinese bowed, and the alien made a negligent wave to the slaves as the official turned away. The lead girl, Chinese in appearance, shouted something, and the official turned, replying casually, then brushed her off with a wave of his hand as she replied. The alien produced a remote, pressing a button, and the chain of slaves spasmed in agony, several rolling over to show their hands cuffed behind them. Their new master let the torment go on; then flicked the switch again, dropping it in his pocket. The official watched this calmly, then turned to walk off.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Arthur Morton watched the press conference, seeing the ship's crew kicking the slaves and dragging them to their feet, moving them into the ship. He pulled out his mobile phone and speed-dialed her number as a small picture appeared of Ms. Wayne at the news conference, talking on her cell phone as the last of the chained, captured Chinese slaves were shoved aboard ship. She switched to another call on-screen, and he said, "Mattie? We need to shut down Operation Spider, right now!" He waited as she replied, then said, "I'll handle it. You need to send an email as to why." He nodded, watching as the ship's slaves appeared, distinguishable by wearing a tunic. They manhandled the pallets of goods, while a forklift appeared, taking the goods the Chinese official had bought and moving off.

He thumbed off his phone as Beatrice spluttered, outraged, "That's … they're … they're selling their citizens! That's …"

"I wonder what those other goods were," Sprink asked; then looked at the Princess. "Oy, I know it's an outrage an' all, but there's not much we can do at the moment. Mattie will try to intercept that ship, an' we'll try to rescue those slaves, but I'm wondering what tha' Chinese bloke was buying an' selling besides those girls."

"Good point," Arthur agreed. "Unfortunately, we can't know unless we intercept that ship and can read the paperwork."

"I'm also wondering how they got through the blockade and in-system," Harry said. "Shh. She's back." He un-muted the sound and the pictures reversed, Miss Wayne saying, "…try to rescue those girls, but as for me, I'm outraged by the callous indifference displayed by the Chinese official in simply selling off his fellow citizens. I know that I'm going to go home and go through my closet and my house and take back anything that I have that was made in the so-called 'People's Republic of China'. If you're as outraged by this as I am, you'll consider doing the same thing, and if enough people do it, it will hit those businesses that deal with Red China right where it hurts, in their wallet."

"There's more than one China," someone called.

"Yes, there is," she agreed. "The Republic of China on Taiwan, they're a democratic, peaceful, honorable society that I am sure are just as outraged by the actions of the mainland as we are. Remember, they also work with the same environmental laws we do in the West, I'm pleased and honored to call them friends. Still, I'm going to take those Red-Chinese produced products back to the places I got them, and if they won't accept the returns, I'm going to burn them."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Friday, October 4, 2002: 10:00 (GMT)
Terra, Hogwarts, PE class:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"You're back just in time, Miss Wayne," Professor Croft said as she came running up, barefoot. "Take a minute to put your shoes on and we'll begin."

"Sorry, all my running shoes are made in Red China," she replied. "That leaves my school shoes and boots, and my dress shoes, so I'm going to be running barefoot until I can replace them."

"What does where they're made matter?" Lara asked.

"It was on telly, those bloody arses are selling their citizens to off-world slavers," Sprink said, sitting down to pull off her own shoes. With a flick of her wand and a quick 'Incendio' they were burning as the others in the class whispered about it. "What about those boots you bought on Eunomia?"

"I'll have to check those, I forgot about them," Mattie replied, doing her stretching. "Fifteen kilometers barefoot should be fun."

"When were you going to go return your stuff?" Sprink asked.

"Got a meeting tomorrow morning, I was going to floo down after that."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Foolish girl," Madame Pomfrey said as she treated Miss Wayne's feet. Those feet were propped over the railing at the foot of the bed; the Mediwitch was about to continue when she saw the girl was sleeping, hugging a pillow underneath. Poppy considered that for a minute; then used her wand to remove a callus; "I'll tell Severus you won't be in class next period."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Friday, October 4, 2002: 12:34 (GMT)
Terran system, SGS Gdansk:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Well, who do we have here?" Captain Frankowski asked his tactical plot, leaning back in his command chair. "I do believe it's that smuggler that we heard was lifting off from China."

"Why don't we go take a look?" his First asked. "We were planning on exercises with the St. Petersburg, and he is heading for the dock with the Wisdom."

"Let's play with his head a bit," the Captain said, and turned toward his comm station. "Frank, call over there and ask their tugs to reverse course, like they're building the ship, instead of tearing it apart."

"I'll get some shuttles off the ground from Copernicus heading that way, and call the St. Petersburg," the First said.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"You see, Captain," Frankowski told the smuggler later, "You're not running your transponder, so we don't know who you are, and you're flying in restricted space. I'm going to have to insist you heave to for boarding. We don't know what kind of cargo you might be carrying. It might be dangerous drugs like Grey Ecstasy or chocolate, or weapons, or anything else on our Class II list." He sat back and sipped his tea, "The one our perimeter buoys transmitted to you. Like, oh, slaves. It's illegal to transport, buy, sell, or possess slaves in this system."

"These are free females!" he replied, and behind his back, several of the slaves shook their heads 'No'.

"If that's true, then I must wonder why they are wearing lit collars," Frankowski replied calmly. He caught his First's thumbs up, and continued, "You will, of course have proper documentation on the freeing of those females for my Marines that are right now at your airlocks. I suggest you open them…" there was a muffled pair of booms. "Well, I guess you're too late." He sipped tea as an armored Terran Marine entered the smuggler's flight deck. "While you're explaining yourself to them, we'll just … keep an eye on matters from here."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Terran Marines!" the Chinese girl heard, and she screamed in joy through her gag.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Captain," the Lieutenant leading the boarding party said, "We have found evidence of the smuggling of not only illegal drugs, but you have shipped the equipment to manufacture Grey Ecstasy to your Chinese contacts. You are also in the illegal possession of slaves, some of whom are Terran citizens abducted against their will." He took a step back, drawing his handgun, "You are under arrest for the enslavement and transport of Terran citizens, possession of slaves, as well as conspiracy to manufacture and distribute Grey Ecstasy."

"One other thing, sir," a Marine said. "Paperwork says he's behind on his mortgage."

"I'm sure our friends at Lantern Bank will appreciate knowing that," the Lieutenant said with a smirk.

The smuggler finally found his tongue, "How dare you! Comrade Won assured me that everything was legal; there was no system defense force! I demand…"

"You will demand nothing, Captain," the Lieutenant said, raising his handgun to the smuggler's eye. "You and your brother, your First Officer will receive legal counsel, paid for by the Empire, and a trial. You will not speak to anyone until you speak to your counsel." He cocked the handgun, "Please, Captain. Resist arrest. It will be my pleasure."

The smuggler eyed the weapon, not a needler, but something with a much larger bore. Deep inside, he could just see a golden cylinder with a dark grey, flattened end. He was sure it would be much more damaging than a needler, and swallowed, hard, before dropping his head and raising his hands. The young officer took a step back, and one of the armored troops pulled him away. He heard someone say, "Lieutenant Livenkov, we…" as he was hurried down the passage.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Saturday, October 5, 2002: 06:10 (GMT)
Fifthday, 6 Octus, 162, 14:57 (WFT +3)
Windfall, Brazos, dining tent:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

There was a loud whistle from the river, and Herr Otto flipped open his pocket watch. "Ach, right on time," he said. "The Packetboat Wagner, saluting the flag, we shall see her in a few days ourselves." He put the watch away, looking about, "Mein Damen und Herren, I believe we have a quorum; I count one hundred thirty three. Do you concur, Herr Ross?"

"I do indeed," the Ranger said. "I move we reconstitute as a committee of the whole, transact business, and then get something to eat."

"Ach, I second the motion," the German Postmaster said. "All in favor?"

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Herr Snaplink, the budget report?" Herr Otto asked, carrying on as chairperson.

The goblin banker and third member of the current town council stood up, "As you know, we are currently running a budget deficit until the first of the year, when the tax rates apply. This is one reason for our emphasis on generating viable revenue." He gestured at printouts on a table, "You see the current monthly budget. Once we receive our draft animals, we can then get seed in the ground and revenue in the vault." He nodded and sat down.

"Thank you, Herr Snaplink," Otto said. "Frau Doktor Bujones, where do we stand regarding our draft animals?"

The Cuban veterinarian stood, "We are currently scheduled to receive eight shonnen and a dozen hexataurs, as well as assorted Terran livestock such as horses, cows, pigs, goats, and chickens. South Two Island is set aside for the livestock, we also have facilities for breeding programs and medical treatment." She took a sip of her tea, "We have some of the new girls that will accompany the shonnen and hexataurs; they have been trained in their management and care. That has been the major cause of the delay, getting sufficient people trained. They will also be training us in their routine management." She started to take another sip, then thought better. "One thing the larger animals will need is shoeing, I have dimensions for the shonnen available. Somewhat related, I understand that we have rescued another 482 hotel girls, and Elder Baasht had a slave farm with several thousand girls. I'm sure we'll be getting a share of those girls as well." There was a murmured reaction, and she continued, "Our own group of 'little sisters' will help with those girls as well. I understand some of the former hotel girls were rescued from the actual feeding trough, so be prepared for psychological distress." She sat back down, and Sgt. Ross's enormous mastiff, Shannon wandered over and put her head in the doctor's lap. She whined, and got a slice of bacon as a reward for her mooching.

"You stole part of my thunder," Professor Franklin said. "Anything else regarding our farm livestock?"

As the vet couldn't stand up with Shannon's head in her lap, she continued from where she sat. "Just that we want to track genetics, so each of the larger farm animals, goats on up, will have an entry in the planetary stud book database." She ruffled Shannon's head, "As well as our friends like Shannon, here. No unauthorized breeding, please."

"Herr Professor, government relations?"

"Nothing much, just that there's an Acting Governor named Morton while Governor Sullivan is on home leave," he replied. "He's been brought in to sort out the snafus in her office, we may see him or his aide. Karen, what about Infrastructure?"

"We've finally got everything cabled and wired properly, we're starting to roll out the business servers, for the individuals with personal comms (she waved hers), we've worked out a way to forward your phones to the comms. It's about an eight step process, though, we're going to have to write software to simplify and make that more reliable." She took a sip of her tea, "Also, Doctor Bujones, I got an email that your laptop had arrived in the mail boat from Earth, it should be on the Wagner, along with a gizmo to let you link to your files from your veterinary wagon. I'll let you know when I need you for the setup."

"What about the stud databases?"

"Give me the contact information for those, please." The vet nodded, and Karen continued, "Aside from that, Herr Otto's family has been handling the port and the mails, such as they are at the moment. However, when we start to see more traffic, we're going to need people specifically trained for those jobs, as well as things like fuel and large cargo handling, containers, the locks, the airstrip and air operations." She held her mug in both hands, "I got an email from Riverside; Transport Canada is handling that type of thing, along with DHL. They're going to be offering classes and licensing sometime next year."

"Why Canada?"

"They have a lot of isolated communities, like Alaska, but Alaska has more roads." Karen shrugged, "They had the expertise, like the Mounties."

"Speaking of which," Sgt. Ross said, "We've taken over that slave farm the doc mentioned, and once we've gotten the slave girls out, we're going to be converting it to a combination prison and training facility for law enforcement and the security services. Several of the Blacks, the Elder's head-breakers and door kickers want to be trained in proper police work, and they also want the local cops like me to go through training on system and 'federal' law, so we're all on the same page." (He finger-quoted.) "As such, I'm going to be away for that training, I understand we're getting some lab equipment and trainers from the FBI and Scotland Yard."

"A little off topic, but thank you," Karen said with a smile. "Returning to infrastructure, I understand the pellet press is working?"

Chuck nodded, "Yes, and the associated wood chippers. We can use the mulch as either feedstock for the pellet press and the stoves, or on the gardens. I'd like to see a specialized truck or wagon of some sort to get the mulch to a central storage area, and we want to have some way of collecting and storing the ash, it can be used in concrete."

"We've got winter coming up, do we have enough stoves?"

Bob spoke up, "They're not that complex to build, cast iron and heavy gauge steel, some fans and a control board with an ignition source. We can ship in the fans and control boards, and build the other parts locally. Don't forget, we're going to have to put them in the barns and chicken coops as well, but the water heaters and various melting pots are more complicated. Once the weather warms up in spring, we can redirect the mulch for ground cover and build our supply of pellets back up."

Elizabeth Brandt said, "I mentioned I'll need a concrete or gravel pad there for the containers, we can extend that for the pellet press."

"Gravel is an import item, like bricks," Angie Jourdain said. "If you can pour your concrete pad without using gravel, rain water will work through, it's a lot more eco-friendly."

"Thank you," Elizabeth replied. "Regarding supplies, we can finally access the last few cargo containers. Once those cranes, forklifts and so forth are extracted and assembled, we can move the containers and make proper use of them for storage. I'll need stairs, decks and lifts built for them, as well as interior shelving, heating and air conditioning, and lights. Fluorescents will do." She ruffled a sheaf of notes, "We have ten Terran months of MREs available for a population of three hundred. We'll need to build that back up as quickly as possible."

"Will people be living in those containers?" Angie Jourdain asked. "If not, why air condition them? It seems a waste of the community's money. I can see lights and shelves, but anything temperature sensitive should be inside your warehouse."

"End of the fiscal year," Sgt. Ross commented, people laughed, and various people leaned over to explain to their 'little sisters'.

Chuck waved a hand, "Excuse me. Those fuel pellets have a specific humidity rating. Once they're produced and bagged, they're going to need to be in low-humidity storage if you don't want mold, mildew and other problems."

"Another point," Karen said, "There may be equipment that we'll need to keep at a certain temperature or humidity in those containers. If we're going to wire them for lights, why not cut a hole in the back and drop in a window A/C unit? I don't think they cost that much, a couple hundred each or so, and better to have and not need it."

"Depending on how they're placed, we could run ductwork and tie them into the warehouse's A/C unit," Chuck suggested.

"Get some pricing, please," Angie replied, and the Ranger asked, "What about construction?"

"We've got the metalworking and carpentry shops up and going to a limited extent," Chuck Rice said. "We wanted to get them going first because we've got some modular furniture and equipment we can then turn out and people can screw together themselves. Don't get me wrong, there's still a lot of work to do, but once this big hurdle is over, we can take a breath or two." He held his own mug of tea in his large hands, "What's left to discuss? The election? Nicole?"

The former slave licked her lips nervously; then stood, "We have ten days until the date we must send our list of persons and issues to the printers. I have received ten questions, Mistress Ito has said they are legal, and fifteen persons have said they will serve." She chewed her lip, "With the news of additional girls coming… perhaps we should print additional lists?"

"Assuming we have those 7500 or so girls divided among the sites, that's around three hundred each," Karen said. "I'd say print six hundred ballots, that should give enough for everyone and some spoiled ballots."

"There's a price break at 750," Professor Franklin said. "Move to increase the order to 750, second?"

"Second," Chuck Rice said. "All in favor? Opposed? Looks like the ayes have it, Nicole. Please increase our order, hopefully we'll have the people in time."

"Lastly, health and morale," Herr Otto said. "Herr Doktor Enrico, your report?"

"I will be happier when we can get fresh food, and start doing canning of our food, instead of relying on military rations," the Cuban physician said. "I am starting to see some mineral deficiencies in some people, not to worry yet, but I am keeping an eye on it. Aside from that, I have nothing to report. Mr. Abdullah?"

The Islamic electrician had been elected to chair the rotating council of lay priests. He stood and said, "Generally, morale is good, and will improve when we have crops planted and livestock available. The wabbits remain a concern, but finding a use for their body fats, and the success of various traps has helped to address that. Several of the 'little sisters' have asked about getting their friends purchased, we have had good fortune in most of those cases. I would suggest arranging travel back to Port Lincoln for them to meet their friends and help with their acclimatization."

Bob Jourdain looked over at Nicole, "You asked about a couple of your friends, didn't you?" The girl nodded; Angie leaned over to hug her, "I don't see a problem with that."

"Thank you, mistress," she replied softly.

"Is there new business?" Herr Otto asked, and waited. "If not, Herr Abdullah, will you close the meeting with a prayer?"

People stood, and he said, "Allah, most kind and merciful, we know as Jehovah, the Source, and by many other names. Please bless our undertaking, show favor on our labors and kindness in our hearts. In your names, we pray…"

There was a moment of silence, then "Amen."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Saturday, October 5, 2002: 07:38 (GMT)
Terra, Hogwarts, Classroom 17:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Petunia entered the classroom as her nephew held the door for her. It looked like a typical classroom with a scattering of student desks, tables against the walls, chalkboards with partially erased words, and pin-boards with a few notices up. On a table were carafes of coffee and tea. Behind her, Donna entered with Dudley, who commented, "I expected it to be … different, somehow."

"Look up, Dudders," Professor Harry said with a small smile. They did, and saw various floating candles supplementing the light from the high windows. They moved to fetch tea and coffee and found seats, and he said, "Aunt Petunia, you remember Ms. Wayne (they both nodded), the blonde bloke next to her is Mr. Arthur Morton (he nodded), who is Miss Wayne's fiancé, Ms. Tonks, and Mr. Adams. This is my Aunt, Petunia Evans." They nodded, and he continued, "You've narrowed the colony selections to two places, Windfall and P'wheel. Ms. Wayne and Ms. Tonks went to P'wheel, while Mr. Morton and Mr. Adams were on Windfall. Mr. Adams in particular worked with the design office on Windfall, Dudley."

"Ah, thank you," he replied. Harry nodded, and Mr. Morton said, "My father is pinch-hitting for Christine, I mean Governor Sullivan, while she's on home leave." He took a sip of tea, "How are you regarding office politics?"

"Somewhat out of date," Ms. Evans replied, somewhat nervously sipping her tea. "I haven't needed to use those skills since I was married, although there was some politics in the neighborhood garden clubs."

Mattie looked at Sprink, then said, "Governor Sullivan's responsibilities include the defense and development of the system. It's a binary system, and she could use a chief of staff. She's got a pair of secretaries, who are rescued slaves. My reports are that those two girls are somewhat out of their depth; what the Governor's office needs is someone to take care of the day-to-day operations, keep development going, build up the infrastructure, both planetary and space-based, sort out things like tax collection, law enforcement and so forth." She took a sip of her own coffee, "The Lieutenant Governor is a … shall we say retired businesswoman, she's got the Ministry of Trade on her plate in addition."

"On the other hand, P'wheel is pretty much built up," Sprink said. "We need to send people to check the machinery and install an orbital cargo station, which is being designed by the office on Windfall."

"I don't think I can wait that long," Petunia said. "Last night I had a call from Vernon, he's found me. I spent the night in a hotel in Mayfair."

"That's not good," Sprink said, and Harry raised his voice, "Dobby?" His house-elf popped into place, and he asked, "Dobby, could you go to Aunt Petunia's flat and pack her up? She's going to be spending some time with us." The elf gave Petunia a glower, then nodded and popped out. "He still hasn't forgiven you, Aunt Petunia."

"Only right, I haven't forgiven myself," she said. "However, I can't stay here."

"There are rooms available in Hogsmeade and in the muggle village," Charlie replied, adding, "If you don't mind pub rooms." He took a sip of his own tea, "The muggle rooms would be just like you expect, although since we're in Scotland, the weather will be a bit chiller. However, if you're going to take the offer on Windfall, you'll need to get to London for briefings and whatnot. You can either take the GNER train down, or stay in a pub in Hogsmeade and floo down to the Leaky. They're used to muggle rellies of Hogwarts students; that's what I recommend."

"The Leaky Cauldron?" Ms. Evans asked. "That's where we met a week ago?"

Ms. Wayne nodded, "Floo from Hogsmeade to the Leaky, then take the Tube from Charing Cross to Canary Wharf, that's the easiest way to get there." She took a sip of her coffee, "Were there any further questions, Ms. Evans?"

"Not for now, thank you."

"Than I'll have Karen give you a call to set up an appointment. Does Mr. Potter have your mobile number?" He nodded, and she continued. "I would suggest; if you haven't already, setting up a Gringotts account. The galactic economy is based on the tungsten gram, they'll have to convert back and forth to Euros, Sterling, and so forth." Ms. Wayne turned, "Right now, the Manhattan and our cargo ship, the Nevis just delivered a load of colonists and their equipment to Windfall. Once they finish offloading, they're going to break orbit and return here with our other colony ship, the Dover."

"When are they expected back?" Donna Thomas asked.

"It's about two weeks each way in the convoy," Charlie Adams replied. "The Manhattan and the Nevis left Earth September first, they arrived at Windfall around the fourteenth."

"I understand they're ready to break orbit, if they haven't already," Ms. Wayne said. "Karen will give you the details, but you'll have an allowance of 550 kilos for personal cargo, clothing, books, pictures, and so forth. If you have any cubage left over, you can donate it to a pool."

"Pack about two weeks worth of clothing for your cabin, and it's not a luxury liner," Charlie added. "You'll be bunking with someone, a shared cabin, and I'd have something to occupy yourself with."

"How's the food?" Dudley asked.

"Replicated," Arthur replied. "You can tell it's not fresh. It looks and tastes fine, but there's something … better about fresh food. Think microwave versus freshly made, if that helps." They nodded, "One other thing, Ms. Evans. How are you with a handgun?"

"I've never touched one in my life," she said disgustedly. "Filthy things."

"I'd suggest you learn, ma'am." Arthur leaned forward. "If you take the job as Governor Sullivan's Chief of Staff, you might be traveling. This is a virgin planet and there are predators with both two legs and four."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Saturday, October 5, 2002: 08:23 (GMT)
Terra, London, Finchley Rd. Marketplace:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Emerging from the Tube station, Mattie re-oriented to Charlie's pointing arm, and headed toward the mall's entrance.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Time to do some marketing, guys," she said quietly, as she watched the BBC satellite crew set up their truck and the rain canopy, while the reporter adjusted her appearance in a small mirror. She moved closer, and waved at the large figure in blue and red that gave a small thumbs up. Moving closer, she called, "Superman! How are you?"

"I'm fine, Miss Wayne," he replied, and the startled reporter spun around, grabbing her microphone as the cameraman picked his up. She moved closer; asked the reporter, "Tasha Meadows, isn't it?"

"How… yes, that's right, she said. Mattie gestured toward the mirror, "Go ahead; finish up." Superman passed her a styrofoam cup of tea from the camera crew's insulated jug as she put her bags of returns down, saying, "You remember my fiancé, Arthur, and these are my best friends Sprink and Charlie."

"Of course," he replied, leaning forward to shake their hands. "What are you doing here, returns?"

"Red Chinese returns, and we've got some information about that smuggler." (Ms. Meadows perked up at that.) "Turns out he was carrying Grey Ecstasy."

"Oh, nasty, nasty drug," Superman said, then turned with a smile, "Ms. Meadows! Ready when you are."

She whispered instructions to her cameraman, who flicked on portable lights, as she waved Mattie to where she wanted her. In the background, they could see the mall building across the parking lot, Superman moved to stand in the background. Tasha did one last check, then got the nod from her producer as the camera's red light went on. "This is Tasha Meadows, here at Finchley Road Marketplace with Damiyo Wayne and Superman, doing a return on Chinese merchandise."

"Thank you for remembering that title, Tasha," Mattie said. "I would like to clarify that this merchandise that is made in sweatshops in the so-called 'People's Republic', under horrible conditions. Those workers are paid pence on the pound, breathe polluted air, drink chemical-laden water and are restricted to only one child. On the other hand, we have the Republic of China on Taiwan, a democracy with clean air and water whose people are paid a living wage, and that I've been pleased and proud to call friends."

"So why the returns?"

"I'm sure you've seen the video of a Red Chinese official selling some of his citizens into slavery. Well, Tasha, everyone needs to make up their own mind, but for me, I'd rather not do business with a company who deals with slavers and drug dealers."

"You mentioned a drug called 'Grey' before we went on the air…"

"Excuse me," Superman said. "It's actually called 'Grey Ecstasy', it has a one-hundred percent addiction rate, and is manufactured by a rather…" his expression twisted, "…horrible method. Certain chemicals in the brain are extracted under torture, and the longer the torture goes on, the more potent the drug." He looked disgusted, "In one of the more unique twists of biochemistry, rage on the part of the male subject turns out a better, so to speak, product than torturing a female."

"They were doing this on board that ship?" Ms. Meadows asked.

Ms. Wayne shook her head. "No, Tasha, but we found invoices, bills of lading, chemicals and so forth. They sold the equipment and supplies necessary to Comrade Provincial Governor Won for tungsten and slaves; in return Comrade Won received gold and assorted other equipment, including a slaver device. He shipped out three and a quarter liters of Grey Ecstasy."

Superman winced, "That's quite a bit. I'll have to look into it. What happened to the smuggler?"

"He was sadly misinformed by Comrade Won as to the existence of the Solar Guard," Ms. Wayne said with a small smirk. "He was intercepted by two of our Tigerfish-class corvettes, they took him to the Eunomia base, where we'll get depositions and he and his brother will stand trial."

"How likely is it they'll be released on license?" Tasha asked.

"I doubt it, even if they're found not guilty, Lantern Bank is foreclosing on their ship. They've missed several payments. The rescued slaves will be offered resettlement." Mattie turned as Superman shifted, then said, "Excuse me," and vanished.

"Anything else you'd like to tell us, Ms. Wayne?"

"I need new running shoes," she replied with a smile, lifting up a bag. "These are made in Red China, and I'm planning on running in the London Breast Cancer half-marathon on the 19th. Aside from that, we're building a large shipyard in Copernicus crater, as some things are easier to do in gravity than they are in zero-gee, like laying carpet, painting; that kind of thing. This goes along with Greywolf's own shipyard and the orbital yards. The only other thing is that we're expecting the arrival of three of our colony ships within two weeks, so they'll probably leave for Windfall and P'wheel around the end of the month."

"Mr. Morton, you've been rather quiet, anything to add?"

Arthur leaned forward, "Just that the Terran Navy and Marines are recruiting. One of my sisters is in the Imperial Navy, and even if you're retired service, you might want to give them a call."

The camera focused on the reporter, "Thank you both, and thanks to Superman, wherever he is. This is Tasha Meadows, reporting for BBC5 Live." The camera's red light went out, and Tasha tossed her mike to her producer, heaving a great sigh as she shrugged out of her BBC blazer and into a jacket. "That's over, and thank you, Miss Wayne, for showing up. I can never get to your news conferences."

"Come to ours," Sprink said, passing over a business card. Tasha's eyebrow rose; "Ms. Tonks. Do you mind sitting down for a little one-on-one later?"

"I'm a bit cramped for time today," she replied. "I'd also like to talk about our new distribution center and colony on P'wheel."

"Maybe doing a little location work?" Tasha asked.

"This is on background," Arthur said, and Tasha nodded. "P'wheel's about 2300 light years away by convoy, in the M7 globular cluster. That's three weeks each way just to get there, add in another day or two to work in and out of the system. Bounce it off your boss, and it's not going to be five-star quarters, either."

"P'wheel's an island planet," Charlie added. "Chains of islands, each of which they've leased to someone for trade. Ours has some existing buildings like dams, but we don't know what shape they're in."

"When I was there," Sprink said, "They looked a little run down, a bit shabby. Plaster chips off the corners of the walls, that type of thing. We're sending an engineering ship to find out what shape the kit's in. We also don't know about the biology of our particular island, the water and power, that type of thing. We'll have to install farmers, as well as a trade station in synchronous orbit, an' we've got about ten months to get it done by contract."

"We've got a pre-fab station designed, and we'll start building the modules in Copernicus," Charlie added. "Then we load the modules into the Nevis' holds, when they get to P'wheel all they need to do is bolt the different sections together in the right order." He shrugged, "Easy as pie, we've got other modular designs for things like extraction and fabrication." Checking his watch, he added, "Now, we really do need to get moving."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Saturday, October 5, 2002: 10:00 (GMT)
Fifthday, 6 Octus, 162, 18:47 (WFT +1)
Windfall, Riverside, docks:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Elena looked up at the sky, following the flight of the shuttle, and sighed. When those last few shuttles docked, the four ships were due to break orbit. Three (the Nevis, the Dover and the Manhattan) would leave for Earth, while the Buckminster Fuller (known as the Bucky) would join them as far as the entrance to the nebula. She would then join a convoy heading toward Mangione and then on to P'wheel. She watched until the craft was a single, reflective pixel against the heavens; then it vanished. She watched for a minute longer, sighed again, then turned to go back to work.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Saturday, October 5, 2002: 10:00 (GMT)
Windfall orbit, M/V (A) Ben Nevis, Bridge:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

A skinsuited Gloria Alvarez strode onto her bridge as four bells sounded for the forenoon watch, her helmet under her arm. "Mr. Murdock," she addressed her First Officer, "I have the conn."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied as he surrendered the Command Chair to her and she racked her helmet. "Last shuttles are docking now." He stood to the side as she read over the status board. "Computer, ship's log; supplemental. I have assumed the conn, this date and time. Until further notice, all personnel will be in skinsuits. Alvarez, end." She looked over at her Comm officer, "Inform current section leads that when they signal ready their personnel are released to quarters for skinsuits. Fifteen minutes each."

"Oui, madame," Lise de Galais replied. "Madame Parkinson reports La Fuller is ready in all respects, she urges us to 'Get the lead out,' her words, madame."

"Very well," Gloria said as her board updated. She studied it, nodding. "Shuttles are secure, post-flight maintenance starting. William," she turned to her First, "You're released to quarters for your skinsuit. When you come back, cover Ms. de Galais' board while she climbs into hers, please."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and disappeared into the lift.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Aboard the Fuller, Gisele sat the helm watch, Captain Komatsu behind her. Five bells sounded for 10:30, and Pansy turned. "Captain, the Nevis reports ready in all respects."

He grunted. "Good. Signal yellow alert and pass tactical command to the Nevis." A bell clanged and yellow lights flashed as he said, "Computer, ship's log, supplemental. We are on yellow alert, and have passed tactical command to the Nevis until we reach the convoy. Ready in all respects for departure. Komatsu, commanding. End." He turned to the helm, "When they signal ready, helm, take us out."

"Aye, Captain," she replied. "Receiving the signal now, breaking orbit."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Sunday, October 6, 2002: 12:09 (GMT)
Terra, Hogwarts, Great Hall, Hufflepuff table:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Oh, that's good," Arthur said, looking at his laptop. He took a sip of blackberry tea, "I got an email from my dad on Windfall; all the ships have cleared the nebula safely. Captain Alvarez' three ships will be joining a convoy heading toward Tosul, while the Bucky will be joining one going to Mangione, then on to P'wheel."

"That's a relief," Sprink said, cradling her own teacup. "I'll let Amy know. Now, mate," she addressed Mattie, "What's this about you talking to Sybill Trelawney?"

"I've been having some … dreams," she confessed. "I was looking for a book on dream interpretation when I bumped into her. We sat and talked for a while, I'm wondering if her flightiness is due to some form of drug addiction, with all the different teas and incenses, and the lack of ventilation in her classroom. I mentioned it to Madame Pomfrey when I went to see her about something else."

"Might be," Charlie commented. "Care to share the dreams?"

Mattie picked up and cradled her own glass of orange juice; "It's a feeling of … contentment with very domestic scenes. Several kids, grocery shopping, different houses, the whole white picket fence and soccer mom bit." She took a gulp of juice. "Weird, isn't it? Almost like June Cleaver," and glanced at Arthur.

"Why don't you talk to Ginny, and maybe her mom?" he replied, then changed the subject. "For Citizenship class, we've been talking about the British criminal court system, and I'm confused. There's different muggle courts, and…"

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Good afternoon, Mattie," Ginny said when Mattie located her with Sirius and Molly near the lake. She was talking to Julie, Arthur's younger sister as she watched the kids play. "It's such a beautiful day, I thought I'd get the kids some fresh air," as she leaned back on the beach blanket.

"If I'm interrupting something…" she started, and Ginny waved her over, conjuring a blanket for her to sit on next to Julie's. "Not at all. We were just talking about family."

"Reading my mind?" Mattie asked as she dropped down to sit on the blanket, legs out in front, leaning back on her hands.

"That's Harry's thing, I'm glad I'm not an Occlumens," Ginny said, and Julie nodded. "I've got enough headaches, thank you very much."

"Wanna trade?" Mattie snorted, then flopped back to stare up at the sky. "Gawd, there are times when I'd like to just chuck it all. Maybe that's why I've been getting these dreams." She looked at Julie, "You ever see any of those 'Beaver' reruns? You know who June Cleaver is? The whole 'white picket fence' bit."

"I may be a pureblooded witch, but I've seen some of those myself," Ginny said. "Doing nothing but the 'happy housewife' routine would drive you starkers within two weeks."

"But… I've seen you, you and your two, and it seems so … idyllic, and I know I'm going to have kids, and…" Julie snorted, "We both know better. I remember when Carson was born."

"You're conveniently glossing over the nappie-changing, the feedings at two in the morning, the weight gain, sore feet, stretch marks and the painful boobs," Ginny said. "Yes, it can be wonderful, but let me assure you that no matter how good a husband you have, and Harry's one of the best, it still comes down to you. Mum was so pleased to be able to get out of the house a bit when I went off to Hogwarts, and even with the new headaches for her business, she absolutely loves it. That reminds me, she wanted to see you, and Julie, I'm sure she can help with your problem." She cracked a grin, "That's what Mums do." She sat up on her own blanket, "Dobby?"

The little house-elf popped in, "Yes, littlest Wheezy? How may Dobby serve?"

"I'm going to take Julie and Mattie to see Mum. Could you let Harry and Severus know, and take the kids to Harry?" The elf nodded, and Ginny stuck two fingers in her mouth, "Molly! Sirius! I'm going to go see Gran, and I'll bring you something." The two kids screamed happily, and Ginny said, "Dobby, one other thing. Could you steal one of Arthur Morton's shirts from the laundry? Mum was thinking about a jumper for him, and wanted the sizing."

"Yes, mistress littlest Wheezy." He popped out, then a second later, popped back in, handing a folded, freshly laundered shirt to Julie as Mattie and Ginny climbed to their feet.

"A Weasley jumper?" Julie asked.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Isn't this kind of … stereotypical?" Julie asked when handed a pair of knitting needles. Mattie was examining her pair, musing, "I wonder if you could hide a wand core in these?"

"Possibly," Molly told her guests. "To both questions. Yes, it might be a stereotypical female behavior, to knit, but I've seen quite a few men do it too." She took a sip from her teacup; "I know Hagrid knits, and even Severus, bless him, will pick up a pair of needles and do a few stitches when he visits." She waved a finger at Julie, "Knowing him, I wouldn't dare mention it to him."

Mattie just shook her head, "I'm sorry, I just can't get around that picture. I know you said you do it to relax and clear your head, but I do that when I run. I can break down my problems, think about what to do about each one, and watch the scenery change."

"Then again, you can't do it while you're stuck in a waiting room, or on an airplane," Julie said. "I know the ships have treadmills, but I can see how this could be useful, like for socks."

Molly laughed, "Albus taught Ginny and I both to knit, he's always complained of cold feet. People always gave him books, when he really wanted socks; that castle is so drafty in the winter." She leaned forward, "Right on, dearie, this is how you start. Take some yarn, it doesn't matter what colour. We're going to start with the simple potholder, and while we do that, we can socialize, get to know each other better."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Once they had arrived back at Hogwarts, Mattie pulled Ginny aside, casting a privacy spell. "May I ask a somewhat personal question?" At her nod, she continued, "Molly and Arthur have both been good to me, I was wondering if there was something I could do for them? No charge. Like their mortgage?"

Ginny smiled, "Thanks, that means a lot. No, the Twins are handling the mortgage, and before you ask, Mum and Dad could afford it now, with the royalty income and the business. Harry's taking care of remodeling the Burrow. I know it looks a little shabby…"

"It looks comfortable and lived in," Mattie replied. "I've grown up in a museum of a house where guests steal the silverware, it's … sterile. I like yours better, with the rattling pipes and the ghost in the attic. I'm not afraid to put my feet up and eat in the kitchen." She grinned at the older girl, "Let me know if I can help," she repeated.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Tuesday, October 8, 2002: 07:55 (GMT +8)
Terra, Beijing, Politburo meeting:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

("… continues to insult us!") the Foreign Minister said, leaning forward on the conference table. ("Now, not only are we called bullies, but also slavers, murderers, and drug dealers! It is outrageous!")

("What concerns me is that Wayne has video to substantiate what she claims,") Li, the Propaganda Minister said. ("We have been calling it faked, and the persons appearing in it actors. How do we know it is real?")

("It is,") the MSS director replied. ("A way to dispose of dissidents and other trash without the long-term expenses of a prison camp. The Grey substance also sells for a very high price on off-world markets, so the males turn a profit for the state. As for the females, we already have far too many of them, so for the minor cost of a collar, they may also profit the state.") He shrugged, ("In addition, we have been exchanging the metal tungsten, an industrial metal of which we have much, for gold with the off-world traders. For them, the reverse is true; tungsten is a coinage metal, while gold they have much of. The only real difficulty was negotiating an exchange rate. Each of them wanted a different one.")

("All well and good, comrade,") the Minister of Trade said approvingly. ("Still, I believe we may accommodate a few off-world scum in one location, but…") the handle to the door rattled, and voices were faintly heard through the excellent soundproofing. The handle rattled again, the door inching open, and the voice of the guard captain was heard. ("Please, comrades, the Politburo must not be disturbed! They deal with weighty matters…")

("I am sure that they will wish to consider this,") a deep voice said in perfect Mandarin, but with an American accent. ("Please stand aside, comrade captain, we do not wish to hurt you.")

"Let's stop jackin' around with this guy," another voice said in American English, and there was a green glow, the door swung open, and several figures entered. Comrade Li stood up, ("What gives you the right to interrupt our meeting!")

("Who are these foreigners?") The elderly Chairman asked. ("Guards! Arrest them and take them away! We have business to conduct.")

("If I may,") a black-haired woman dressed in a revealing outfit said. ("I am an ambassador…")

("You are a cheap whore, I will not hear the words of such,") the Chairman wheezed. ("You insult me, leave my sight, female, and peddle your body elsewhere.") He waved a hand in dismissal as she stiffened in outrage, turning, ("I still do not know who these men are.")

("The one in blue and red is known as Superman,") the MSS director said. ("The tart is Wonder Woman, the dark one is Green Lantern, one of several on the planet, and the one in red is known as Speed.")

("Flash, actually,") the man corrected, tapping his right temple. ("If my translator is working correctly.")

("It is,") Superman said. ("We have come to ask you to eliminate this trade in both Grey and the export of slaves.")

("Superman?") The ancient Chairman mumbled. ("I seem to remember something of that. Were you on the Long March with us?") He nodded, ("An old comrade, then. Give him a light sentence.")

The Minister of Trade coughed, then asked, ("What care we with your requests? You stand against a great profit to be made. Leave us, and do not return until we summon you.")

("I may be a female,") Wonder Woman said. ("I suggest you study these newspapers to see what your customers are saying.") She took a stack of newspapers from Superman, tossing one down in front of the Trade Minister. ("Liberty Times, Taiwan's largest newspaper. Page five.")

("Again, I say, what care we?") the Trade Minister said, pushing the paper away unread.

("Perhaps you might care about others?") Superman said, tossing newspapers in front of each Politburo member. ("Seoul. Tokyo. Manila. Singapore. Cairo. Jerusalem. Tel Aviv. Cape Town.") As he continued to toss newspapers, Wonder Woman added, ("For those papers that are not Chinese in origin, the advertisement is also printed in Chinese. Page five, as I said.")

Superman continued with ("London. Paris. Bonn. Berlin. Mexico City. Havana. Toronto. Montreal. In the US, there are copies of the Daily Planet, New York Times, Los Angles Times, Detroit Free Press, and of course USA Today.")

("We know what our customers are saying,") the Trade Minister said. ("They are most pleased with the quality of our goods and the timeliness of our delivery. Now take this foreign trash with you when you leave.")

"When you leave the meeting," Green Lantern said in English, "Look at Tiananmen Square. We returned some of your property. Let's go, people. They're not interested, let's not beat our heads on a brick wall." They turned, leaving the stacks of newspapers on the table in front of each member. The frustrated guard captain looked in, the director of the MSS saying, ("We are well, comrade captain. Arrest those foreign interlopers.")

("They have already flown off, comrade minister,") he replied. ("Through a window, except for the one in red, he ran off.")

The director of the MSS asked, ("What have they left in the Square, comrade captain?")

("I do not know, comrade minister. May I make a radio call?") With a wave, he received permission, and a minute later, said, ("There are a number of metal objects arranged in the square, comrade. Several dozen, I am told, including four with orange plastic netting wrapped around them. Are they satellites?")

("They are. Thank you, comrade captain,") the director of MSS said, and the PLA captain left, closing the door. He took a sip of his tea, ("Comrades, I feel certain that Wayne has enlisted the over-muscled cretins we just saw in her cause. I propose we deal with her permanently.")

("I have already offered commandos …") the Defense Minister said.

("Yes, comrade, but using uniformed troops in another nation's territory might be interpreted incorrectly,") the Foreign Minister replied. ("Let us save that option; instead use plainclothes troops. We may abduct and transport her here, where she may properly recant her misinformation.")

("We already have such a plan in place, as well as appropriate personnel in the area.") The MSS director replied. ("All we need is the authorization to proceed, comrades.")

("In that case, I propose we authorize such a plan,") the Foreign Minister said. ("We may keep the use of PLA troops as a fallback plan. Comrades, what is your vote?") Hands were raised, and he turned slightly, ("Comrade, you may proceed.")

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Tuesday, October 8, 2002: 16:45 (GMT)
Thirday, 9 Octus, 162, 07:58 (WFT +3)
Windfall, Brazos, docks:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Oh, I'm missing you already!" Angie Jourdain said, sniffling a bit as she hugged Nicole. Bob Jourdain gave her an awkward hug, kissing the top of her head, then asked, "You have enough money? Clothing? You have barely anything…"

"I have enough, I plan to study during the trip. I wish you to be proud of me," she replied softly.

"Oh, honey, we are…" Angie said. She turned as Herr Otto, as the Portmaster as well as the colony's Postmaster (the postal boats were operated by DHL) called, "All aboard! Come, we shall take very good care of them."

Nicole picked up her small bag, gave her new family a tentative smile, then turned, walking across the floating wooden dock, then turned and ran back for a final hug. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, shook back her short hair; and then marched up the gangplank. The last Bob and Angie saw of her was her giving her ticket to the ship's purser, who gave her a key, then she vanished up stairs. "Oh, Bob…" Angie sniffled, then turned into his arms.

"Turn around and smile," he advised. "The girls are watching from the top deck, you don't want to have her hear about you crying." Angie gave another sniffle, then turned and waved back to the girls, although she didn't see Nicole. Herr Otto gave a salute to the bridge as he pulled the gangplank off with one of his sons, while two of his new daughters were removing the ship's lines from the bollards. With a final whistle blast, the Wagner pulled away from the dock, precisely on time.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Tuesday, October 8, 2002: 16:52 (GMT)
Thirday, 9 Octus, 162, 08:05 (WFT +3)
Windfall, IMMS Wagner, top (sun) deck:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Panting slightly, Nicole arrived on the top deck as the riverboat started its large red rear drive, the water turned white as the boat fought the currents, and headed upriver. "Oh, I'm too late…" she moaned softly as they could see their new families walking toward the wooden ramps leading up, while Herr Otto and his family started to wrestle the offloaded cargo onto carriers. She waved, and a few people waved back, but she didn't see HER family wave.

"Do not be troubled," Alison, who worked in the pub, reassured her. "They will be well, as we will be, and just think of our joy when we have rescued our friends." Nicole undid the belt of her smock, using the hem to wipe her tears. She sniffled once more; then took a deep breath. "You are correct, and I am being silly. Still, I hope to have a reunion with Master Frank from the Scythe. He was the first that considered me a person, a free female, and addressed me as such." She took another deep breath, "Perhaps I shall be fortunate, and lure him into my bed. He was much too honorable to take me when I was part of his cargo, and he has ruled out his shipmates. He needs a female."

"I find it interesting that many of the Terran males are hesitant around us," Alison said as she leaned on the starboard rail, watching as the Wagner entered the first lock chamber, and deckhands secured lines to the small engines running on rails alongside. They watched as the riverboat's crew worked efficiently, Alison commented, "Do you remember when you interviewed me in Port Lincoln?" Nicole nodded as they watched, finally saying, "There were several I placed on riverboats. Do you wonder if…"

"I am pleased to see I am not the only one. I love my new place, and I keep busy," Alison said. "However, I sometimes think it would be nice to see something new every day. Still, there is attraction to knowing in advance… Oh, I am not explaining it well!"

"For me, it is learning new things," Nicole said. "How to work different types of metals, and working to tight, repeatable standards. How things operate, and work together, and discovering why they do not." The breeze flapped her open smock, and she pulled it off, folding it and poking it through a rail. She turned slightly, watching the lock gates close, and said, "I now come closer to understanding why something works, like how those thin beams can close those heavy gates." She drew her sidearm from the holster attached to her belt, and tied to her upper right thigh. "I know what the parts do in this, one of my projects on this trip is to design the way we might reload the projectiles easily, in a small space, and at the lowest cost." She slid the gun back in, standing at the rail dressed in her collar, belt, holster and sandals, while Alison pulled her top and skirt off, folding them and placing them on a bench behind her. They stood there in silence, listening to the birds and watching the activity on the lower decks. With a sigh, Alison finally said, "We should make productive use of this time, profitable time."

"We should," Nicole agreed.

Neither moved.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Wednesday, October 9, 2002: 02:38 (GMT)
Mangione System, M/V (A) Buckminster Fuller, Bridge:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Five bells had sounded for 2:30, and a few minutes later Captain Komatsu appeared on the Bridge. Second Officer Dana stood, but the Captain waved him back to the Command Chair. "First time in this system," he commented. "A new port for us, and no harbor pilot." He sat at the un-manned comm station, and donned a headset to play back the ship's log entries. He grunted to himself when finished, then racked the headset. "I couldn't sleep," he confessed, and stood to get a cup of tea from the replicator, asking "Anyone else?"

"No, thank you, skipper," Peters, on the helm said. "I'm good."

The Captain nodded, and called up the ship's passage plan. "We're running a bit early?"

"Fair winds aft, sir," Dana said with a small smile, and Komatsu chuckled slightly at the Swede's joke. The blond officer continued, "We received a seven kilo refund on leaving the convoy, even with buying updated charts. We've also been in touch with the system Portmaster's office, and we're currently heading for Buoy 27, which is where the convoy to P'wheel and beyond is assembling." The Captain nodded, sipping his tea as Dana continued, "Six and a half days there, but we lose the time we gained by having to wait for the outbound convoy. We've filed an updated report with London and sent an email to Parkinson's office informing them of our arrival, and of course, received mail too."

"That means I have some," the Captain said with a small grimace. He finished his tea and stood, "I'd best get to it, then." He stood, recycled his teacup, and left the Bridge.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Wednesday, October 9, 2002: 08:21 (GMT)
Thirday, 9 Octus, 162, 23:08 (WFT +3)
Windfall, IMMS Wagner, top deck:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Nicole climbed the steps to the top deck; they were scheduled to dock in 'Polonia' shortly. Ahead, she could see the lights of a colony spread out and reflecting along the edges of the lake, and as they grew near, they could see people standing, waiting for the riverboat. Colored lights flashed on posts, if she leaned over the rail slightly she could see the deck crew putting out white cylinders on ropes – 'Bumpers' she reminded herself.

The top deck itself had several people standing and watching, and Nicole waved at the crowd, who waved back. Below, she could see the deck crew standing by with ropes, ready to toss them ashore. She jumped, startled when the whistle blew, the lines flew, and they were pulled the last few meters to the dock, precisely on time.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Oh, this looks good," one of the new girls, 'Dania' said as she entered the small cabin. Like the other five girls, she carried minimal baggage, which she dropped next to the open bed. A compact fresher was positioned along the outboard side, then three bunks on either side; a small social area with a table and chairs and the door to the passageway. The cabin (excluding the fresher) was about four meters wide by six long (12 x 20 feet); the boat's eighteen-meter beam was designed to fit through the standardized twenty by seventy meter locks.

"Simply climb up either end," Nicole said. "There are two meals scheduled, at ten and twenty hours, and a mid-day light meal of sandwiches that we ate on the top deck. Before the food hall…"

"Forward of the mess hall," one of the other girls corrected. "I am from Nueva Mexico, and helping to build these boats, and so I have learned some of the terms. They call the left 'Port' and indicate it with a red light, if you are facing the front, or 'Bow' of the ship." She smiled, "There is a small room, or 'cabin' for sending letters that is placed just forward of the mess." Nicole shot a glare at her, who said, "I regret the interruption, but it is a fascinating area of study, and we are already designing and building some of the common parts of the ships. The Terrans have many traditions and customs, as they are also from a water-world, although they have several continents." She clapped her hands, plopping on a bunk. "Tell us about you!"

The new girl took a seat on a bunk, like Nicole she wore a judicial collar and slave belt (the other girls did not wear belts), and said, "My new owners are…" she stopped, blushed, then said, "I meant family."

"We have all said that," Nicole said. "The Terrans are understanding, but using the term does irritate them. We have also been trying to discover why our Terran males are hesitant to touch us, especially in the absence of Terran females. I asked my new… (She chewed her lip.) … My new male, and he changed the subject, he did not wish to discuss it, nor did his female, his mate."

"I have noticed the males, the Terran males will occasionally gaze at my collar and become angry," the Nueva Mexican girl, 'Connie' said. "They will curse quietly and at length, then stride off, and strike a wall repeatedly. I do not understand this either, it is only my slave collar."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Wednesday, October 9, 2002: 10:47 (GMT +1)
Terra, Paris, EADS design, meeting room #4:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

("Once again, management is late. Their time is more important than ours, we can sit here for forty-five minutes, it is not a concern.")

("What else is new?") He asked, when the door opened, the appropriate junior Vice President striding into the room. ("What do you have for me?")

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

("No!") The VP shouted, pounding his fist on the table. ("I have said before that our goal is to own this market! This design must be able to be shipped interstellar! It is too large for current holds!")

("Then possibly a modular approach? That shipping requirement was not in the original specification…") the lead designer said.

("The company has decided to create an export market, the change order was sent to you earlier. Why was this not acted upon?") The VP demanded.

("We have not yet received that change order,") the designer replied, glancing around the table to head shakes. ("We shall need to redesign the hull's stress loading, control runs, power distribution…")

("As long as you have the plans and a mockup for my presentation on the eighteenth. You have already wasted my time, this time it will be done right!") He picked up his leather binder and stalked out, while the assorted designers and engineers looked at each other.

("That went well,") the designer said dryly.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Wednesday, October 9, 2002: 23:21 (GMT)
Fourthday, 10 Octus, 162, 08:08 (WFT +2)
Windfall, IMMS Wagner, top deck:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Nicole climbed the stairs to the top deck, her small bag with her notes in her hand. She noticed that several of the other girls had the same idea, and were studying in the early morning light. Claiming a chair (the tables were occupied), she removed her sandals, wiggling her toes as she arranged her feet on the ship's railing.

"Fair morning, mistress," one of the ship's slaves said as Nicole was arranging her notes. "Would you care for a beverage?"

"Being addressed as 'mistress' sounds strange when it is addressed to me," she replied, and the girl grinned. "I know, mistress. I am still adjusting to the idea that I am being paid for my labor." She held her datapadd against her chest, "The star's light will become hot before too long, mistress. I would suggest a cool beverage, to maintain hydration."

"Perhaps in a short time," Nicole said with a smile. "I have several problems to solve, I wish progress on them." The girl nodded and moved off, and she arranged reference books on her crossed legs, while her sketchpad was braced on her belt.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Greetings," Alison said, and Nicole looked up from her work. "May I join you?"

Nicole gestured to an adjacent chair. The other former slave settled in, glancing to her right, studying her, and asked, "May I ask a personal question?" Nicole nodded, and she continued, "Your hair was shorn, you still wear a slave belt as well as a judicial collar and penalty brands. What do they reference?"

Nicole studied her, "When I was purchased, we were told we were to be sacrificed to the great god Hoki-Poki," and Alison nodded. "When I was first collared slave, I fought, they had to force my neck into the machine, that gave my first penalty brand, others for disobedience and disrespect to masters." She gave a wry smile, "I was not a good slave; I was punished often. I believe the masters were glad to sell me to the Terrans. I remain surprised they did not simply kill me, but even if a private master had purchased me, I would have fought that collar. I did not wish to be a mere female slave."

"Yet that is what we are, female and slave," Alison replied.

"Yes, we are what the Terrans call 'livestock', a domestic animal. Or at least, we were."

"Our Terrans do not consider us such, my new owners were unhappy to see me leave."

"I am beginning to think that they do not consider us slave, as domestic animals," Nicole said. "Yes, they bought us as slaves, but they do not require us to repay their costs, and have encouraged us to speak our minds. My own…" she chewed her lip. "If not owners, then what? Use-masters? I am unsure. The only orders I am to obey are regarding my health and safety in work, and they are reasonable orders. I am to wear protective equipment, and while they are distressed at my reluctance to wear clothing, they allow it."

She reached down to her glass, which sat on the deck, and took a sip. "However, that does not tell the tale. I was part of the cargo, and the ship was forced down by an attempted theft, the ship's engineer tried to make. He would have sold us all to pirates, Master Frank and the others fought him." She waved a hand, "While the ship was being repaired, work parties were created, I was on one such. We had landed the ship on the main continent, where Riverside is." Alison nodded, and took a sip of her own drink as the other girl continued. "The ship's Third Officer was in charge of my work party, the Terrans had not removed our feeding gags, as they were necessary. We were clearing land near an abandoned farm, which was the local slave handling area. We found three dead male slaves, still locked in their cage. When the time was right, I struck and bound our use-mistress, thinking the other slaves would accompany me in our bid for freedom."

"Yet you are here, and alive," marveled Alison. "You received a very light punishment!"

"I did," Nicole agreed, and touched the iron collar riveted on her neck below her galactic collar. "The other slaves did not wish to compound their crime by accompanying me, and bound me to wait for masters while they attempted escape. They were recaptured and caged, and Master Frank drove the wagon." She was silent, thinking back; then shook herself. "I fully expected to be tortured to death, as did the other girls. Instead, I received only a shearing, judicial collar, and penalty brands." She smiled slightly, "Master Frank did not want to brand me, but I convinced him to do so, offering to brand myself if he did not. In truth, they did not hurt particularly, and I hope to see Master Frank again, and convince him to take me."

"He is a most attractive male; I wish you good fortune," Alison agreed, and sat back, sipping at her beer. "What do you research?"

"My first project for my new owners," Nicole said as she sat up, excited, her books dropping to the deck. "As you know, we are becoming low on ammunition, Master Bob has given me the steps required to create and load them. I must first determine the hardness and other properties of certain alloys, and which we might fabricate for the lowest cost. Then the metal must be shaped to specific tolerances, and finally the components must be assembled safely. We must then test them, and revise the procedure, and duplicate it for the different sizes, and do it all in a limited amount of space. It is fortunate that the process is generally done in groups, as that means we might need only to change certain parts of the machines." She bounced slightly in her chair, "Oh, it is such a fascinating project…" She grinned broadly, "A year ago, who would have thought we would be sitting here, watching the planet pass by, collared slaves actually armed with weapons, and be entrusted by our owners to go and do for them?" She gave a small squeal, "What is your task?"

"Master Franklin wishes me to learn what I can about the brewing and distribution of beverages," Alison replied, holding up her beer stein. "I am to get pricing and information about existing beverages, study the public houses where we stop to determine their procedures and how we might duplicate them, the things they do well, and do poorly. He believes that I should not have problems with this, as we are not competing directly with the houses, and they will wish to know the same information." She took a swallow, "If I am turned away because of my collar, I am also to note this, as it will be a penalty mark against them." She held up the stein, "This ship has several different beers, and I would find useful another opinion."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Alison and Connie watched in silence as Nicole carefully worked the small laser cutter around the block of wood, perspiration working its way down and around her safety goggles. With a flick of her thumb, she switched it off and carefully replaced it in the case, looking up to see the two of them, along with the ship's serving slave watching her.

"What are you doing, mistress?" the slave asked, placing a stein of cold water in front of her.

"Gratitude," Nicole replied, taking several large gulps, then set the stein down. "These are called dies, and can be made in several different sizes. This is for illustration, though," and she picked up one of her prize possessions, a .50 BMG round she had received from Master Otto. Holding up the large cartridge, she tapped areas with her stylus. "All of the rounds have several parts, the case, which goes from here to here, the bullet, which usually has a lead core and is the part that strikes the target, in our case the wabbit." The other two nodded as she flipped the round, "This central disk is the primer, which is a small explosive, and sets off the powder, sealed inside, which propels the bullet." She replaced the precious object in her case, pulling out the individual components; the powder in a small tube.

Glancing at Alison, who was nursing a fresh liter of beer (this one a different color, she noticed), she continued, "The shotgun rounds are designed differently, they have a smaller metal case and small spherical bullets in a stiff paper case. We are also looking to merge the two in a design that will kill the wabbit but not destroy the body." She took a deep drink of her water, finishing it off, and the ship's slave whisked it away, only to return a moment later with two replacements. "Are you only a serving slave?" Nicole asked.

"No, mistress, I also serve on the deck crew, and taking care of cabins," the girl replied. "You were speaking of dies."

Nodding, taking a long gulp of water, Nicole sat back. "A tube of metal is inserted in each of these holes," she started. "It is bound in place with this clamp, which cuts the groove at the end while flattening the base. It is then cut to length by a laser, and then this end swings in, narrowing the end and holding the tube open while this probe (she flipped the assembly 90° on end) punches this hole for the primer in the base. The clamp opens, the case drops into this small tank of water, which cools it and keeps it from deforming and oxidizing, and the cycle is repeated. To change sizes, all we need do is change these three dies, which are made of strong steel."

"That is amazing, mistress," the serving slave said, wide eyed.

Nicole chewed some ice from her stein, "I still have several problems," she admitted. "If I have a block of metal, or metal pellets, how do I form the cylinders? I can buy metal in that form, but I do not know if that would be more expensive than making it. I cannot have seams, they would form a weak point."

"You shall discover it, mistress," the ship's slave said.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Later that evening, Nicole sat straight up in her bunk, "I am a fool!"

"You are a fool, then. Go back to sleep."

"I need only create a rod of the appropriate composition, I can then bore it with a laser!"

"You are a fool with a rod and a laser. Go back to sleep."

She settled back, but didn't return to sleep.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Saturday, October 12, 2002: 09:12 (GMT)
Terra, Inverness, City course #5:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"What'cha reading?" Mattie asked as she tied her golf shoes while waiting for their muggle team-mates to find them.

Amy Johnson looked up from her laptop, "It's something Arthur passed on to me, 'Standard Design Elements of Spacecraft'. If we're going to be building our own ships, I need to know this."

Brushing her golf skirt back, Mattie joined her on the bench. "One of a bunch of things I haven't had a chance to read yet. Yeah, you need to be familiar with that, but your design and operations people are the ones who need to KNOW it. Especially if we're standardizing things like control board layouts."

"Good point," Amy agreed. Two girls came up to them, "Team twelve?" They got a nod, and continued, "I'm Melissa, and this is Dawn."

"Amy and I'm Mattie, and this is Crystal," she replied, standing up to shake hands. "Crystal is my bodyguard and big sister;" she handed her wand and Amy's to Crystal. Melissa's eyes went wide at the sight of them as she continued, "Want to do the traditional wager?"

"What's that?" Dawn, an Asian girl asked.

"Ten pounds each, winner buys the drinks at the 19th hole."

"I'm in," Amy said, handing her tenner and Mattie's to Crystal, who collected the money.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"So, like, what do you do, besides being, like, wizards?" Melissa asked, popping a bubblegum bubble as they waited their turn to tee off.

"Witches is the actual term," Amy replied. "Wizards are guys. We both have small side businesses."

"Duh," Dawn said, who had been busy on her mobile. "I've been looking you two up. You," she pointed to Amy, "are the CEO of Greywolf Transport, and you…" she pointed to Mattie, "You're the bloody Queen."

"She doesn't look like the Queen on telly," Melissa objected, blowing another bubble.

"Forgive her blonde moments," Dawn said.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

On the par 5 third hole, Jeremy waited with Arthur, leaning against the golf cart as Theo, one of the muggles they were partnered with in Team ten, addressed the ball. He swung, and Alex winced as the ball headed for the trees. "Mate, you're going to need a bloodhound to find that one." Arthur looked at Jeremy and Steve, his bodyguard, and the three of them laughed.

"It wasn't that funny," Alex said, putting down his own ball.

"Sorry, inside joke," Steve said. Theo returned from bagging his own club and asked, "Arthur, you're tight with the Queen, got any news to share?"

"Aside from she doesn't like to be called that, those Chinese girls their government was selling off as slaves?" he replied. "They're being debriefed at Eunomia, the Red Chinese have issued threats (he glanced at Steve); they want us to return the ship and 'all property to their rightful owners' (he finger-quoted)." He shrugged, "Mattie issued a press release that said any slaves were returned to their 'proper owners', themselves, and the ship and the two brothers that were running it were behind on their mortgage, so they've been turned over to the local branch of the affiliated bank: Gringotts."

"Oh, nasty," Jeremy said. "Don't mess around with the bloody goblins and their money." He chuckled, "Oh, that is just … evil. I know they were looking for a ship for themselves, and this gives them one, all strictly in compliance with the law."

"Goblins?" They waited in silence as Alex set himself and swung, the ball going about 200 yards, then drifting right toward a stream that wandered through the small grove of trees. He breathed out in relief as it landed in the rough, just off the green. Theo continued, "Next thing you'll say is that elves don't live in trees. Honestly, goblins?"

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

On the short par three fifth hole, Amy swung from the red tees, driving her ball down the center, only to have it hook left with a gust of wind and settle on the brink of a sand trap just off the green. "Nice shot," Dawn said as she set her ball on the tee, studying the lie of the hole. She adjusted her stance and swung, her ball not going nearly as far. "How the hell do you get an 8 iron to go so far?"

"I work out, we both do," Amy replied, shoving up her sleeve and showing off a bicep. Melissa popped another bubble from her gum.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"I must say," Albus said as he selected a wood from his floating bag of antique clubs on the third hole, "This is a most enjoyable activity." He watched as Minerva swung, it going straight down the fairway. "Good form, my dear."

"Why thank you, dear," as she flicked a cleaning charm on her club. Mr. MacCreevey, the Lancaster school's golf instructor put down his own ball as his wife asked, "Mr. Dumbledore, what did you say your handicap was?"

"Oh, I'm not very good," he replied. "Fifteen or so. I just enjoy the fresh air and exercise." Liam MacCreevey swung, and Albus continued, "I've only been playing golf for, oh, since I was a lad of fifteen or so. Excellent shot, sir, I must say."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"So what else is going on with you and the Queen?" Theo asked after Arthur tapped in his putt for a birdie on the tenth. He walked over to the ball washer, drinking from the water fountain before replying, "Personally? None of your damn business." He dropped the club in his bag with a little more force than required. Alex held up his hands, "Wait a moment, there, mate. Not asking for the juicy details, but you know what school gossip is like."

"Yes," Jeremy said. "Professional locker rooms are the same way, a bloody lot of gossip, no matter which sport." He raised his hand, "No, not golf for me, Quidditch. I thought I'd be playing with Amy today."

"We're not good enough for you?" Alex said with a smile. "You've both got fine looking birds, if you don't want to share details, that's fine." He changed the subject, "My pa was looking at the moon through his telescope the other night; he saw a good number of lights and whatnot on Copernicus."

"We're building a shipyard there," Arthur said after Theo took his stroke. He gestured with his hands, "Ninety some kilometers wide, almost four deep. It's stepped, the inner ridge is twenty wide by a kilometer deep, so we can dig and get out of the radiation, and the temperature is stable underground at about seventy Fahrenheit."

"What about at L4 and L5? He's seen those too."

"Some things are easier to do in zero gee, you don't need huge cranes," Jeremy said as they stood by the golf carts. "Moving sections about, welding them together, that type of job can be done by one bloke in a control cab with robots."

"Don't forget, the disabled can do that," Arthur added. "Mattie's got veterans from World War II on up working for her."

Jeremy nodded, "Other jobs, like interior painting, are easier to do in gravity. The moon provides enough to work in, paint stays in the pot, but once you've got a section done, you move it to the orbital yards."

Steve got on the back of the cart as Alex nodded, "Makes sense. How do I get a job up there when I graduate?"

"I've got some of Amy's cards, I'll give one to you next hole."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"So, like, those Chinese girls? The ones that were being kidnapped, like?" Melissa asked as Mattie lined up her shot on the eighth hole. Dawn held up a finger, and Melissa popped her bubble, "Like, sorry."

Mattie nodded, refocused on the ball, and tapped in her putt for four. She fished it out as Crystal replaced the flag, replying, "We took depositions from them, then since most of their families are dead, they had nowhere to go. Several of them signed up for either the Imperial Army, Navy or Marines; they train together for the first eight weeks, then go into unit training." She waited while Dawn took her shot, then added, "Now we need the ships to put them on."

"I've been thinking about taking the training myself," Amy said as she lined up her putt. It stopped an inch short of the cup, and she snarled something, both Mattie and Crystal said, "Language!"

Dawn asked, "Huh?" and Amy blushed, "I just said a rather nasty phrase." She tapped her putt in for five. "We do need the ships, we've got the yards building out for civilian designs."

"Our warships would have a number of common elements with Amy's civilian ships," Mattie said as they walked toward their carts. "We also have several problems, primarily due to the drives." She paused to wash and dry her golf ball, "I hate the thought of having to import engines, but the jump field is a problem we haven't cracked yet." She took the 'shotgun' position as Amy put the cart into motion.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"So the shipyard you're building…" Alex started again. "What can you tell us? Pa's been looking for steady work."

"There's two," Arthur said. "Copernicus, which would be primarily underground. Pretty much like working in a big, enclosed room, except you obviously have different gravity, but the same mass." He raised an eyebrow, explaining further, "If you have a hundred pounds of steel in your hand, it's only going to weigh sixteen pounds when you pick it up, but if you drop it, it's going to create a dent worthy of those hundred pounds. Think of hitting your thumb with a tack hammer versus a carpenter's hammer."

"Makes sense," Theo said, and glanced at his classmate. "We should take a welding class, mate."

Alex grunted, "It's not like building a submarine, though."

"The cruiser we brought back, the Wisdom?" Arthur replied. "Her hull is only half-inch steel, enough for internal pressure. She's got compartments, but they're not all pressure-tight, so if she gets holed, whole sections can lose air."

Alex nodded, "Poor design, I assume we're fixing that little error." Arthur nodded, "So … one was like being inside a big room, the other was …" he circled his hand as a prompt.

"Some things are easier to do in gravity, even minimal gravity," Arthur said as he crouched, lining up his putt. He stood, tapping his putter, then watched as it stopped on the lip of the hole. With a small curse, he tapped it in for a six. Fishing his ball out, he moved away to the ball washer, drinking from the water fountain. He waited in silence as Jeremy's putt curved slightly, he also cursed and tapped in for a seven. "That sand trap hurt you," he mentioned.

"I'm not a bloody mole," he replied, dropping his putter in his bag. Theo tapped his ball in, taking a drink as they waited for the people on the next hole to finish up. He dropped his putter in his bag, saying, "I can see that; I would think painting in zero gee would be a bloody pain."

"You'd have to mask off consoles and whatnot, then set off some paint grenades, I would think," Jeremy agreed. "Much easier to simply leave the consoles in the boxes, do your painting, then install the consoles and other kit."

"This also means that we can build in sections, run all the cabling and so forth to a central distribution compartment in each section, then connect those compartments," Arthur said. "We build those sections at Copernicus, then boost them to orbit. That's the other part of the shipyard; we've got crews inside those sections, connecting them together. We've also got people in the control pods (he held up a golf ball), shaped like these, about eight feet in diameter." He moved it around, "Most of the vacuum welding is done by robots, but there's places and situations they can't handle. Those are hand welded; then everything is checked and painted. Having the Wisdom available has been a godsend, not only what they did right, but what they did wrong." He dropped the ball into his bag, "The others are clear now."

"Ah, right. Thanks, mate," Alex said as he eyed the eleventh hole. He wet his thumb and gauged the wind, then selected a club. With a 'thwack', and for a change, it went straight down the fairway, edging close to the flag… and dropping short. "Bloody hell," he cursed. "I thought I had that one."

"You can still birdie," Theo said, lining up his own shot on the par three. He swung, then danced back, waving his hand, "C'mon, c'mon… YES!" he shouted as the ball went in. "Ace! I got an Ace! Yes! Woo-hoo!"

"Congratulations!" Arthur shook his hand; then said, "We'll sign your card as witnesses."

"That does mean you buy the drinks, mate," Alex reminded him.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Amy and Crystal both looked up and ahead on the course, Crystal commenting, "Someone's happy up ahead." She listened a bit more, "Ah. Apparently someone did a hole-in-one."

"That's like, so cool," Melissa said as she lined up her shot on the ninth hole.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

("Are we prepared, comrades?") The team leader asked in Mandarin. ("We were forced to let Morton pass, we may collect him later once we have Wayne in custody.")

("Yes, comrade. With the other player scoring a hole-in-one, it shall be easy to pass Wayne the drugged beverage. We shall simply say this is part of the traditional celebration.")

("The taste of the cola will also hide the knockout drug,") the third added. ("Once she is down, we shall claim it was heatstroke, and bring her into the back to rest and await paramedics. At that point, we shall use the portkey to bring her to our safe house, and then on to Beijing.")

("Wayne is the important one, though, comrades. She has embarrassed the People's Republic, and for that, she must pay the penalty.") He regarded the other two, both young witches. ("If we may collect Morton, well and good. He would be useful leverage against her. If we cannot, (he made a throwing-away gesture) he is expendable, as are the rest. They approach! Quickly, positions!")

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"I could use something," Dawn said as they finished the hole and approached the snack bar on the 9th hole. The small pavilion had a set of benches overlooking the back nine, with ceiling fans going to cool players, a small fountain burbling into a basin, and a view of several fountains jetting water into water hazards. One of the course employees, a young oriental woman, approached them, "A player has scored a hole-in-one, and is buying sodas for everyone playing in celebration," she said in excellent English. "Please give this token to the girl at the counter." She moved off to repeat this to several other golfers, and Mattie joined the queue for a free drink.

"Ah, this hits the mark," Amy said as she relaxed on the bench, while Mattie said, "I can never get cookies this soft, mine are all hard." She raised an eyebrow at their questioning looks, "What, I know how to cook some things! I'm just not that good a baker." She took a long gulp of her soda, looked at it, then said, "It must be something in the water," and got up. She took a few steps, then grunted and collapsed.

"Oh, my!" the employee said, moving to check her, moving an eyelid back. "It must be heatstroke! Please, stand away, let us get her to where she can lie down while we call paramedics." Two other employees appeared, one young man and another young woman. He started to roll her over and pick her up; Crystal said, "Just a minute. You don't move someone that's injured."

"Paramedics have been called," Dawn said, waving her cell phone. "They're right down the road," and in the distance, they could hear approaching sirens.

"But we must get her out of the sun and heat," the young woman said. "In the back, next to the ice machine will be much cooler…"

"Like, got you covered," Melissa said, appearing with a sopping bundle. "Ice in a towel to, like, cool her down."

("The plan is failing, we must seize her! Attack!") the young man said, drawing a wand and pointing it at Melissa and her bundle of ice. 'Avada Kedavra!' The green bolt hit the bundle of ice, exploding it and knocking Melissa against the wall. Amy transformed, leaping at him, while Crystal hit her panic button, then fired a stunner at one of the other Chinese agents. Transforming herself, she howled.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Arthur, Jeremy, and Steve looked up at the howl, Jeremy transforming and starting to run, while Alex asked, "What…"

"Werewolf howl," Arthur said shortly, catching his wand from Steve. "That's Crystal. Stay here. Mattie's under attack," and he started to run. Theo looked at his classmate; then took off after him.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Liam MacCreevey looked up at the weird, ululating cry, asking, "What was that?"

"The danger cry of a werewolf," Albus said, dropping his club. "She is calling the pack. Minerva?"

"Ready, Albus," she said, drawing her wand, and together they vanished with a crack.

"Werewolves?" His wife asked. "Come, our students may be in danger!" she headed for their golf cart.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

An alert went off, and the dispatcher looked at the message on her screen; toggling her mike. "Dispatch to SWAT. Personal alarm for Wayne. City course number five, GPS has it the ninth hole clubhouse, paramedics already enroute there for a heatstroke case. Handle code three."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Liam swore in Gaelic, but the golf cart wouldn't move faster. Behind them, they could hear more sirens drawing closer, there was the honk of a horn, and an ambulance appeared, driving past on the fairway.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Arthur studied the patio, barricaded with overturned picnic tables. One of the Chinese girls had been stunned and fallen outside the barrier. Jeremy had crept up, eying the scene through a gap between tables, while Steve, also in his wolf form, had dragged the girl back behind the SWAT truck.

Jeremy returned, than with a pop, accepted a clipboard and started to sketch as Arthur moved over to see what he drew. The Chinese girl was searched and revived as the scene commander discussed the situation.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

The white telephone on the wall rang again, and Chen started to pick it up. ("No, comrade! They wish us to surrender!") Wen told her, and obediently, she dropped her hand and resumed her place, crouching behind a sheltering wooden table. She peeked out through the gap between tables; then glanced at their four hostages. Wayne and the two female werewolves that had attacked continued to breathe deeply, unconscious, while ice-girl, whose towel full of ice had been gathered so nobly, moaned in pain; her face and chest bloody, the back of her head lying in a small pool of blood on the concrete. She said, ("Perhaps, comrade, we may offer to let them have the injured girl. It would …")

("No. Let me think. There is a way out of this. Perhaps if we keep Wayne and kill the others, they are disposable…")

("Comrade, I realize you are in command,") Chen started delicately. ("However, I have spent much time here as part of my cover as a university student.") He said nothing, and she continued, ("Comrade, you have recently arrived from Beijing?")

Wen nodded, ("I was honored when Comrade Dai summoned me to assume command of this cell. It is a great privilege to be asked to serve the Party and the State, even if it is against the Lesser Enemy. Successful completion of this task will increase our standing in the Party.")

("Of course, comrade.") She rolled her eyes, which he did not see. ("We all work for the success of the Party and the State. I do not criticize, but I point out that you have not spent much time in the West,") Chen said delicately. ("Western attitudes are somewhat different than in Beijing.") She held up a hand, ("I merely point out a difference, comrade. Killing them un-necessarily would anger them, possibly to our mission's detriment. In addition, note that Wayne has contact with persons like Superman, who will not be pleased if the others are killed.") She shuddered, ("Comrade, I beg you, do not be hasty regarding someone who can destroy planets with a single blow.")

("The Kryptonian has been dealt with by others,") Wen replied softly. ("That is another's part of Comrade Dai's plan, not ours. Now be quiet and let me think, girl!")

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Comrade Wen cursed softly. This was not going according to plan! They should have been able to seize Wayne, bring her to the back, and vanish with her. It should have taken no more than a minute or so once she collapsed! Now, however, he was barricaded with Comrade Chen, holding hostages while he looked out at armored vehicles labeled 'Inverness SWAT'. What was worse, they had tried to apparate out together with Wayne, and encountered wards that blocked that spell, as well as the portkey. He had checked his own wards, and now peeked out, conjured stone barricades sheltered the police from his spells, and he could see an old, white bearded man conferring with a younger man with messy black hair. He had tried the killing curse again, only to have the old man calmly raise his wand and a stone column blocked the spell.

("Can you get out with her?") He asked Comrade Chen.

("No, comrade, we are surrounded.") She replied. ("We can try bargaining our way out …")

("They have Hae,") he cursed. ("We would have more options if she were with us.")

("She has been captured,") Chen replied pragmatically. ("Comrade, we must be objective and face facts. We must…")

("…surrender?") He asked in surprise. ("That is defeatist, comrade! The situation may still be recovered; it is up to us to discover a way. The Party and the Ministry have trained us well, we are superior to the enemy.")

Chen cleared her throat, ("Comrade, the plan was the work of Comrade Dai?") Wen nodded, and she continued, ("I do not criticize such a senior member of the Party, but I understand it has been several years since Comrade Dai served the State in the West?")

("What of it, girl?")

("It is possible that our understanding of the parameters of Comrade Dai's plan was incomplete,") she said delicately. ("For instance, you have twice used the killing curse today on a person.")

("What of it? We are State Security, and they are only peasants,") he replied, honestly puzzled. ("They do not matter, only our duty to the State.")

("Comrade, they will regard this as attempted murder, a most serious matter,") she said, and he looked at her, uncomprehending. ("Comrade, you are thinking as if we were still in Beijing, but we are not, we have committed several serious crimes, they undoubtedly have photographs and have identified us by now…")

("Comrade Bae would never betray the Party!") he exclaimed.

("Comrade Bae would not have had a choice, comrade. A suitable truth drug, she would talk regardless of her party loyalty. That is a matter of biology.")

His breath huffed out as he sat back, his wand loose in his hand. ("You know what Comrade Dai and the Ministry will do if we are known to have failed,") he said softly.

("Hai, I know,") she replied. ("We had a simple, workable plan of Comrade Dai's which we have executed to the letter, so we cannot be held accountable for the failure.")

("We will, you know,") he said morosely.

("However, comrade, I have a plan,") Chen replied. He looked at her, eyebrow raised, and she continued, ("With the cooperation of the British, if we are known to have died, the Ministry will not retaliate against our families. They will grieve, but will be rewarded, as it is known we are heroes to the Party, having given our lives for it. We may then assume other identities, and get on with our lives.")

("False documents and such? They will want more than Wayne for that,") he rubbed his chin, thinking. ("We may give them, with much reluctance, Comrade Dai. He is safely in Beijing, so there is no risk to him.") He thought a bit more; ("We can be killed while attempting escape, when the building collapses on us. Wayne may break a limb or such, but is otherwise healthy.") He sighed, ("I see no other option. While I am willing to sacrifice my life for the Party…")

("We are not eager to do so,") Chen agreed. ("Let us strike the best deal possible.") She stood, sighing silently in relief, and went to the telephone on the wall.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Saturday, October 12, 2002: 16:05 (GMT)
Firsday, 12 Octus, 162, 11:18 (WFT +1)
Windfall, IMMS Wagner, top deck:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

The ship lurched, causing Nicole to look up. The banks of the river, which had steadily retreated, had vanished into a wide expanse of brown water. She could not see the far shore; the near shore was rapidly receding. She turned as the serving slave whisked away her empty beer stein, asking, "Another, mistress?"

"Where… what?" she asked.

"We have moved from one of the smaller rivers in the east to the major, central river, the Amazon," the girl said. "The jolt was crossing the currents, the river averages five kilometers wide and between sixty meters deep at the edges to eighty meters deep at the center. We will be in the center of the river until just before we arrive at Riverside, where we will need to move to the western bank." She looked at a ship's chronometer; then spoke to the group. "At twelve hours, masters and mistresses, you will need to retrieve your life vest from your cabin, we will be giving instruction on what to do if you go over the side. You will not be physically strong enough to swim to either bank, and it will keep your head up and afloat." She smiled, "Who requires another beverage?"

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Monday, October 14, 2002: 07:47 (GMT)
Terra, Hogwarts, History class:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Good morning everyone, and welcome back," Professor Lupin said as his eyes flicked over the class. He put aside the class roll, "Let me get your homework back, and Miss Wayne?" He smiled gently, "Check your addressing on your email. I don't think I was supposed to get something for Professor Trelawney."

There were some chuckles, and he held up a hand, "In her defense, she sent it at three am yesterday when she was in the Infirmary, so I think that's a reasonable mistake. However, it did give me a good idea, and no, there wasn't anything 'interesting' in it. It was a dream diary, which we've all filled out." He waved it off, "As you know, there are certain tipping points in history. Her particular one involved a 'what if' question, specifically relating to her trip back in time and a conversation with you, Miss Bundy, and Miss Yates."

"I doth believe I remember that," Anne said, turning to look at Mattie. "'T'was aboard the Yates?"

"Yes, with the power converter." She winced and moved in her wheelchair, left leg held out straight, encased in a heavy cast.

Anne nodded vigorously as she asked, "Shall I tell it?"

"Aye, but I shalt comment as I doth require." Mattie nodded, "Most of you should remember my future great-granddaughter, Cassidy Yates, when she visited." Julie nodded with the others as Anne smiled faintly. "The ship was parked outside the Great Doors as we worked on it, and Anne was one of the very few, faculty or students, that dared go near it."

"They did'st call me a foolish Gryff for my courage," Anne remarked. "Still, 'twas a wonderous thing to behold, an' now, when I hath gained a greater appreciation of it…" she shook her head. "I doth miss my conversations with Alfred."

"He's on Windfall, he'll be back when he's ready. In any case, Cassidy and I were installing some power converters we had picked up and Anne wandered in and started to help. While we were working, Cassidy asked a question."

"She doth bid me to ask a simple question: 'Why?'. 'Tis very effective," Anne put in. "At the time, we were discussing water mills, and the question arose, 'Did the water freeze in the winter?' to which the obvious answer." She smiled; then said, "Cassidy dids't then say, 'Welcome to the Industrial Revolution,' as I realized the answer."

"You had this thunderstruck expression…" Mattie said with a chuckle. "However, Cassidy wasn't quite accurate, but she was coming at it from the 24th century, and history was never her strong point. However, just about all the pieces were in place four hundred years earlier, so the 'what if' becomes: 'What if the steam engine and the Industrial Revolution had happened around 1400 instead of 1830? Where would we be?'"

"What pieces were in place?" someone asked.

"The working of iron enow to produce a steam boiler, gearing, though of wood, not iron," Anne replied. "The only things necessary woulds't be a form of crankshaft, and the recovery of steam through a condenser. Once those were discovered, a steam engine could have been placed anywhere needed to produce work."

"We thus have a tipping point in history, one in which two of us were fortunate enough to not only observe, but be a part of," Professor Lupin said, reclaiming the conversation. "There have been a number of these in history, the success or failure of certain endeavors. What if the Spartans had broken and run at Thermopylae? What if the Gunpowder Plot had succeeded? What if General Burgoyne had captured Philadelphia during the Colonial Revolution? What if Louis XVI had escaped the Terror in Paris?"

"What if Mattie Wayne had not brought back galactic technology?" Julie Morton asked, and Mattie turned to regard her. "What if she had stayed in the fourteenth century?"

"'T'would have been most difficult," Anne said. "She dids't struggle constantly not to reveal the future to us, which we dids't understand, even though 'twas most frustrating for all. She dids't e'en yell at us once that she desired to inform us, but dared not."

"Cassidy said the same thing," Mattie added. "She obviously knew my family history, when I mentioned the death of my father…" she paused for a moment, then continued. "When I mentioned that, her head snapped around… Apparently, that had greater significance for her than it did for me. However, secrets of the future were revealed, for instance MIT is still in existence and going strong in Cassidy's time."

"I am grateful that I was able to attend this past summer," Anne said softly. "For the first time, I truly felt … stretched. I was challenged, and t'was a wonderous feeling."

"Have you considered a British school, like Cambridge or Oxford?" Professor Lupin asked; then waved his own question off. "We're getting off track. What I'd like you to do, and we'll make this part of your final to give you plenty of time, is to take a tipping point and speculate on 'What if?'."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Monday, October 14, 2002: 04:15 (GMT)
Seconday, 13 Octus, 162, 07:28 (WFT +1)
Windfall, IMMS Wagner, top deck:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

The ship's whistle sounded, causing Nicole to look up. She saw another riverboat; identical to the one she was on; with white paint and a yellow band with a red stripe on the twin exhaust towers. She heard the other boat's answering whistle, and carefully marked her place in her reference book before standing and waving at the other boat. The girls on the other boat waved back; she heard a 'thumping' noise from the landward side of the boat. She walked over to that side, and saw the boat's crew putting out the white bumpers, the boat approaching a dock with brick overhead arches. A large white sign read 'Riverside'.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

Elena watched as the two riverboats approached the dock, the Mozart in front, while their tickets were for the Wagner. She motioned to that end of the dock, and pulled their luggage cart while Sgt. Perry kept his hand in a 'come along' grip on Haak'n's elbow, staying behind the yellow safety line on the floating dock. The boats seemed to be closing much too fast, but the dock crew didn't seem to be concerned as lines were tossed and snugged to cleats. The dock master glanced at his pocket watch, she heard him say, "Ach! They are ten seconds early!"

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"… either stay locked in the cabin or you can come with us," Nicole heard a male say, and turned to watch two uniformed Terrans bring a collared male slave up to the top deck. He wore pink lights on his collar and a pink tunic; the Terran male continued, "I don't want to stay in that cabin, so here you are." An ankle chain was fastened to the railing as the male finished, "Now, if you cooperate, I'll release your hands."

"Why should I?" the sullen male slave replied. "I will be tortured to death, why not simply throw me in the river instead of this foolishness? At least drowning is a faster death."

"For the simple reason we don't torture, and everyone charged with a crime has their day in court," the Terran male replied. "We're even paying for an attorney, a speaker-at-law for you to have a fair trial. While you did torture three girls, none of them died, which is fortunate for you."

"Now sit down, shut up and watch the river," the female Terran told him, shoving a chair into the back of his legs so he was forced to sit. "You're not supposed to talk to anyone until you see your lawyer."

"That slave is not chained, she is free to move about," he replied, thrusting his chin at Nicole. "She wears a judicial collar, she was recently shorn, why is she not confined?"

"I don't know, I don't care," the Terran male said. "Also, she's not a slave, so for the fourth time, be quiet."

"The Captain of my ship allowed me to speak for myself," Nicole answered him. "I received penalty brands because I attacked my use-mistress, not for trying to escape. Why do you wear the pink lights?"

"Pink indicates a prisoner who has not yet had a trial," the female Terran replied. "He is charged with theft of funds and services, falsely assuming an office not his, fraud in changing his legal status, and lastly torture of three females, non fatally."

"You are Haak'n," Alison said. "We have heard of you, and that your fate will be decided by others. Brand him, torture him as he did others and keep him slave, I say."

"I want out of this collar!" he shouted, trying to stand. The male Terran pushed him back.

"We all do," Alison replied coldly. "We were bred slaves, you do not have the look of one of the male slave types. You were a capture, free at one point. We were never free until we were sold here, now we may become free. Were you not offered a path to a dark collar?" She continued, "Then why, with those advantages, did you not follow that path?"

"My first penalty brand was for disobedience in my collaring," Nicole added. "I have fought my collar, but now, I have a clear path to a dark collar and my freedom. One I have taken steps on, and been encouraged on. You are a fool, Haak'n, and you endanger all of us. I also say brand him and leave him slave in a judicial collar; I have no sympathy for him." She turned her back on him and picked up her book again.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Tuesday, October 15, 2002: 10:05 (GMT)
Thirday, 14 Octus, 162, 08:18 (WFT +1)
Windfall, Riverside, conference room:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Good morning," Benni said from the screen as Bill signed in to the security videoconference. "We just have a few things to go over this morning. Let's finish off old business first, then Piotr had some things he wanted to discuss." She looked over at Eleanor and Marie, "Let's get you two first. How are your various plants and potions going?"

"Fairly well, Governor," Marie replied. "We've got the starter potions for the greenhouses ready to package and instructions written and proofed. However, we must emphasize dosages – if we say five grams dissolved in a gallon, that's what's required. Other than that could kill the plant. While those are distributed, we'll call in Mr. Morton's marker, and get the brewing equipment for field potions."

"As well as the building extension," Eleanor said. "We've got a design for a tow-behind planter that will plant the irontip and bloodvine seeds, and give them a squirt of grow-fast. These are fairly small seeds, but they should have meter-high hedges within two days, a week at most."

"Another thing we've developed is soaps and detergents," Marie added. "Not only would this be a good cover operation, I think it's a viable business. We can use various oils along with the glycerin the biodiesel people are producing not only for skin softening soaps but for shaving creams, dishwashing and laundry detergent."

"Now that sounds interesting," Bill Morton said. "I've been looking to invest some money here as a private individual. Why don't we sit down later with a cup of coffee and go over things?"

Eleanor nodded, "Shifting back to the plants and potions, I would suggest installing a wire fence up to ten feet away from any gate posts. The plants will use them as a trellis. We've got enough seeds for the original ten or so sites; right now, our bottleneck is the brewing equipment. We have to brew the potions in liter batches. For the quick-start seedling potions that's repetitive but do-able. Once we get into the field additives, that won't do at all."

Benni made a few notes; then turned to a different quadrant of her screen, "Piotr? What did you want to discuss?

"You are aware that Baasht had a contract with an off-world slaver?" Various heads nodded, and he shifted on the screen to indicate Hans Gruber, "The Major here…"

Bill coughed, "Major? I'm sorry, I thought you were…"

"Ach," Hans said, waving it off. "I have been promoted by the Bundeswehr, officially Frau Governor will pin the new rank on me when the paperwork arrives in a few weeks."

"Oh, I didn't know. Congratulations, Major," Bill said. "My apologies for interrupting. You were saying?"

"Ja. Herr Inspector Constantine (he indicated the Mountie sitting across from him), and Herr Lynn of the FBI share my suspicions. Allowing the slaver, especially as he is apparently an independent trader to come and go while observing our defenses is foolish. We must take that ship to determine whom he has been talking to!"

The FBI trainer leaned forward, "Legally, of course. However, we do have an advantage, in that he is a known gambler, favoring Tonton, which is a card counting game. Somewhat like cribbage, only without the board."

Inspector Constantine picked up the thread, "We think he'd be the type to gamble his ship and cargo. From what the former manager T'iisen said, he's arrogant enough to do it, we need to entice him into a game and clean him out. He won't gamble with females, though. How are you at cards?"

"Euchre's my game, I tried to stay out of poker games in the ship's wardroom," Bill said.

"So … we make you the patsy," Mr. Lynn said. "We've discussed this with the bankers from Gringotts, they'll stake us the money for the game. We've been practicing here with some of the pirates; they don't want to go back to being slaves; so we've gotten good tips and tricks. They also suggested someone play a rich fool."

"Hmf. I can do that," Bill said. He leaned over as Marie made a whispered suggestion; then nodded, "If you're sure?"

"If Mr. Morton is the rich patsy, he would likely have a personal servant, a slave in attendance," Marie said. "After all, he bought his position, it's not like that type would do any actual work." She gestured toward her collar, "That would be my role, I'm his personal slave girl, and also the backup for the bunch of you. They won't be expecting a slave doing wandless magic. However, I'm not part of the pot."

"Simple enough," Bill said. "If I'm the rich bastard, then you're being held hostage for some reason."

"Or you're a competitor trying to take over the market," she said. "Either way, I'm not a poker chip."

"Agreed," Bill said, and offered his hand. She shook it, "I'll work out with you my cover history, and get the appropriate costume together. I'll suggest that I was a disciplinary problem, and you've broken me, I'll be all meek and submissive."

"Somehow I doubt that," Benni said with a grin. "If this works, I'll owe you one, Marie." She turned, "In that case, Bill, your mission, should you choose to accept it or not, is to play cards with the bastard," Benni said with a grin. "Sorry, I don't have a smoking tape recorder. Inspector, Mr. Lynn, how goes the conversion from gloomy, torch-lit prison into college campus?"

"We'll still have a few inmates," the FBI trainer replied. "They'll be integrated into the curriculum. The existing slaves are here partially for camouflage; after all, if we're the new slave farmers, we've got to have a few out tending fields and what not. I don't think you can take some seven thousand plus girls and sort them out into the new sub-colonies in one gulp easily, either."

"No, that's right," Benni said. "What else?"

"We still have equipment in storage there awaiting remodeling," he replied. "Lab analysis equipment, criminology and so forth. We're fortunate that some of the former Blacks wanted to become honest cops, we can do some proper training and mentoring, while working up a training curriculum." He indicated the Mountie; "One problem we have with several sites is that there's only one local cop, so he or she really can't leave their post. What Inspector Constantine will be doing once we have some of the locals, including possibly some of the incoming slave girls trained, will be what we call roving training. He'll go with a few of the girls to a sub-colony and get everyone trained up."

"Does that include some of Herr Gruber's troops?" Bill asked.

The newly minted Major nodded. "Some of them are already trained to NATO standard as MPs," he said. "As we are now more along the lines of garrison troops, I wanted them trained to assist if there are riots and such-like." He sat back in his chair, "In addition, we have those pirates Frau Wayne has captured. I think relocating them here, and running them through physical conditioning and discipline would be useful, give them a little esprit de corps."

"Good," Benni said. "Regarding the Finance and Trade ministries, we're on track for the financial conversion, and various sites are holding elections. In addition, we've got the other new seedling colonies one through fifteen ready for people. I did talk to the construction people before they left orbit about various snafus, and we're expecting the Scythe within a few days with another 480 – some girls. One reason we want that other ship, it has a capacity of something like 1500 slaves." She looked around her local table, as well as the ones on screen. "If there's nothing else, we'll adjourn."

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"You're sure about this?" Bill asked after the conference ended.

Marie nodded, running a finger under her collar. "Change the lights in my collar, a slave belt and a few penalty brands (she slapped her left thigh), maybe implant the Enhanced outer disk in my temple." She replied. "I'll need to check with the docs in the hospital about that. They'll think I'm a slave girl, one you Enhanced for control."

"Check with some of the real Enhanced girls as to what it's like," Eleanor said, tapping a pen on a legal pad. "A judicial collar? Maybe two personal slaves?" (She waved a finger at herself.) "Those tunics are cute, maybe with a bit of judicious body sculpting? I've always wanted a bit more up top."

"So have I," Marie said. "The women in my family have always tended to extremes, either a huge G cup or my tiny A. I'd like a D or DD."

Bill raised his hands, "Ladies, I've got four daughters, but I'm not getting involved in that decision. Whatever you think best, but remember the tunics are plain white with a yellow edge. I'm sorry if that's not fashionable, but I don't think slaves decide that kind of thing. As far as the Enhancement, if it's just the outer disk and the medics say they can remove it safely, I'll go along with it. I don't want the real thing, and I don't think you do either. However, I'm not happy with the branding thing."

"Topical or a local anesthetic," Marie replied. "From what I understand, it hurts less than burning your finger, there aren't as many nerve cells there. It can't look new, though; it needs to look like I've had them for years. Faded, like."

"Work out the details, let me know if you need me," Bill said. "I need to go learn this game."

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Tuesday, October 15, 2002: 14:15 (GMT)
Thirday, 14 Octus, 162, 13:28 (WFT +1)
Windfall, IMMS Wagner, mid-deck:
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Nicole waited with the other girls to leave the ship; through the windows she could see the approaching port with cranes loading rectangular steel boxes onto barges. Some of the steel containers had mesh uppers; she could hear animal noises from them. The ship drifted for a bit, then they could hear the roar of the engines on the deck below, they could see people waiting on the pier as the ship edged closer, and lines were tossed.

With a jolt, they stopped moving, and one of the ship's officers took a position at a small desk. "Your attention, please," he called. "We're be debarking momentarily, we're going to call you by your cabin number. Please turn in your key when that's called. Some people have had balance problems when they get back on dry land; that should pass in a few minutes. Also, for those of you girls wearing weapons; please be aware that the free persons here may not react well to that. We will not tolerate violence on anyone's part, but you do have a right to defend yourself. Don't start anything, but don't hesitate to defend yourself or someone else if attacked." There was a murmur, and he smiled, "For those of you going to Port Lincoln to meet someone, we do have shonnen buses laid on, however, they are not the fastest means of transport. If there are no other questions, thank you for traveling on the Wagner, and welcome to West Port. Will the people escorting the prisoner come forward, please? Then we'll require the people from Cabin A-1."

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Nicole secured her bag on the cart towed behind the large vehicle, giving her paper ticket to the slave who was their bus' driver. She smiled and tore off a section, then returned it. She put her copies in a folder, checked other cargo on the cart and secured it as Nicole climbed the circular stairs to the top deck.

The driver climbed a ladder to her seat, putting her folder of tickets into a small box next to her. She turned to inform her passengers, "The seats are designed for the local population; they may seem a little small. Most of the Terrans I've taken have sat on the deck and padded their back with a blanket. I believe most of you are going to Port Lincoln, that is one and a half days. We have arranged for quarters tonight." She gave a piercing whistle; then snapped her reins. The two shonnen pulling the vehicle started forward, working up a low rise from the port; the driver sat back, wrapping her ends of the reins through a wooden ring.

"When will the shonnen achieve their maximum speed?" Alison asked, arranging herself on the deck and folding a blanket for her back.

"They shall gain speed on the other side of this hill, but they are not fast animals, mistress," the driver replied as one of the free females nervously eyed the collared slave girls that were wearing weapons. She continued, "After that, there is a long down-slope to the east. I have several decks of Tonton cards and chips if you desire them."

"I will sleep for a bit, then study," Nicole decided.

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Tuesday, October 15, 2002: 07:20 (GMT +8)
Terra, Beijing, Politburo meeting:
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("Well, comrade, your team failed,") the Defense Minister said. ("Perhaps now we should try my plan to deal with Wayne?")

("They died in service to the state, comrade,") the Director of MSS replied. ("Their families will be suitably honored.")

("I must once again point out that having uniformed PLA troops on another country's soil has in the past been cause for war,") the Foreign Minister said, leaning forward. ("Therefore, we must have deniability, comrades. Use Mongolians, the western imperialists will think they are Russian troops and blame them for Wayne's death.")

("So we have decided to terminate her? There is no possibility of her agreeing to our most reasonable terms?") The Interior Minister asked.

The Foreign Minister shook his head. ("Attempts to have her retract her words have proven fruitless. In addition, she has taped depositions from the females and posted them on the Internet, and various foreign governments have inquired about the matter. As I said earlier, both the enslavement and the drug manufacture are sensitive subjects for them, their citizens are demanding action and can be put off and ignored only so long. We must have this situation resolved to our favor shortly before their holiday season, so that we may sell the toys and trinkets they demand. Without Wayne pushing this, I believe the issue would be obscured shortly.") He took a sip of his tea, ("However, she is very high profile, and we will doubtless be suspect.")

("I do not think so,") the MSS director replied. ("Even if we are proven responsible, what can they do, comrades? We hold their economies hostage, we need only call in their loans; they do not have the manhood to defy us.") He smiled cruelly, ("We hold a very sharp knife there. Perhaps we should remind them of this, particularly the Americans.")

("We must do something,") the Minister of Trade spoke up. ("Wayne's economic campaign has cost us business, especially in the clothing and other seasonal markets. That is already as reliable as the winds, but it is a good percentage of our foreign trade, and funds a great deal of our other purchases, such as oil and foodstuffs. The western Christmas season is approaching, and a great amount of business is done then. Billions and billions of yuan, comrades; business we must safeguard. We must act carefully in killing Wayne.")

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