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For disclaimers, please see Chapter One.
4: 16 - 31 July, 2002
Tuesday, July 16, 2002:
Terran system,
Olentangy, common room: 17:23 (GMT)
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Bill Morton leaned back in his chair and re-read the email his wife had forwarded from Elena. The trip had changed his daughter somehow; her sense of humor was now more dry and earthy. He was tempted to send a note to his son Arthur, but he had a habit of not replying to email, of keeping his cards close to his vest. Shaking his head, he started his reply:

To: Maggie
From: Bill Morton, Sr.
Date: 16 July, 2002
Subject: Various

Hi, honey!

I got your email of the 15th, where you passed on news from the kids. As for us, we're still here orbiting Uranus, the retrieval of hydrogen and helium is going a little bit slower than we anticipated, but everything is going fairly smoothly. Assuming the price-point holds for deuterium and 3He, we stand to make a tidy profit on this trip. We're about 40 percent loaded, all systems are go. Right now, the other three are on the flight deck, while I, the wise, all-powerful captain, sits and writes his wife. Rank Hath Its Privileges.

Lest you think there is nothing to do, Mike needs to maintain a perfectly synchronous orbit. I know satellites do so routinely, but there are apparently some gravitational fluctuations, although not nearly as bad as the Moon's. Misty remotely operates the gondola, pumps, and whatnot on the atmospheric unit, while Hank keeps a tractor and control laser locked on the unit while its in atmosphere. They may be lying on their backs on the flight deck, but they don't have time for sightseeing.

Still, I wish I had brought along some music, even those bands that Teela is working with. The old saying, ninety-nine percent boredom, one percent sheer terror, but I can understand why the solo rockhounds in the Belt need a second person, or even a cat.

Misty has forgiven us our male sins since Mike's taken over cooking, he's gotten quite clever with beans, pasta and rice. That will no doubt put him in some young lady's good books in a couple years when he goes off to college. In the interim, Hank's been giving him some introductory lessons in Calculus.

We've all taken pictures for Teela, I understand she's been in negotiations with some of the American wizarding bands, as well as the ones on the stations. I hope she comes up with a better title than 'Music of the Spheres', it seems kind of, well, corny. Still, while Mike has a photo taken of him on the flight deck with the survey station orbiting Titan, he doesn't think he'll be believed regarding this trip. Speaking of which, we retrieved our sample return probe, although it was a bit hairy. There was a problem on its launch, and finding something the size of a basketball against an entire moon was a bit of a challenge. When all was said and done, we got it, returned to the 'tangy, and got it squared away.

So the Senate passed the Arrowhead bill. Finally! That will definitely help, but we've already got an advantage, the 'fustest with the mostest'. I saw two bits of news regarding Arrowhead, first that the only major holdout is now Red China, and the Guard has asked different governments to borrow some of their unarmed combat champions. Of course, the USMC is sending theirs, as well as the Royal Marines, the Russians, Israelis and so on. The kicker is to develop a style that can be used in variable gravity, against some of the nastier aliens.

That being said, don't worry about Arthur not replying to email. The boy is overly paranoid, and as for Elena, don't forget there are things that she can't talk about. I do feel a lot better that they're together, if not on the same ship at least in the same system. Besides, training in the military is designed to be tougher than the actual problem, it's supposed to make you react instinctively. I did see a small bit on the news that WayneTech is installing four 'Zogger' units for training purposes in the Guard's Corfu Island base. Apparently part of the contract requires each have a sign, 'Abandon hope, ye who enter' for some reason. Try asking Arthur about that, and what the units do, and see if he'll reply to that.

Switching back to Elena, she mentioned she's doing a lot of flying, and also that construction on the weather stations and college agricultural sites was going well. I would assume Ohio State's Ag program put in for that, it would be nice if they won one of the locations.

I'm going to close now, we should be reeling in the gondola shortly, I have to go put on my 'Captain's face' and 'supervise' the process.

Love to all,
Bill

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Wednesday, July 17, 2002: 00:17 (GMT) (Firstday, 23 Quintus, 162: 06:05)
Windfall, High Town, Government ministries:
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Saamz leaned back in Paavue's chair and smirked. He had done his duty, warning the old fool that it was dangerous to go and confront the Terrans, and he had carefully objected to Paavue's use of the same tactics. He had personally gone to watch, taking a minor part in the search for Wayne, then faded back into the crowd as Paavue and Taaman had been captured. He would be meeting shortly with his counterpart, Caarn, from the Justice Ministry. They only had to decide between themselves the new spheres of influence; the Terrans had done all the work, while they would take the rewards...

He heard voices from the outer offices, and assumed that was Caarn being properly welcomed by his (HIS, now!) outer office slaves. The door to his office opened, and Saamz stood, "Caarn, wel..."

"If you are looking for Herr Caarn from the Justice Ministry, you will be waiting a long time," the Terran said. "He is unavoidably detained, and is now being shipped to our POW camp after a physical struggle with our people. If you have forgotten, Herr Saamz, we are at war with you, a war you started." A weapon was suddenly in his hand, pointing between his wide eyes. "We do not trust you, Herr Saamz. You have been dismissed, and will be escorted from the building. This ministry is closed."

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"You have heard the news?" Zuunti asked, coming un-announced into Daala's office.

"About Paavue and Taaman? Yes, they were fools," Daala replied.

"Not only those, the Terrans are taking everyone out of their ministries!" Zuunti added. "They are dismissing the free workers; saying they must reapply for their posts and only keeping the slaves for now. Only Baasht's Trade ministry they've left alone for now."

"Because Baasht sold out," a female's voice said, and the accursed Wayne stepped out of the darkness in the far office, accompanied by her male. "By now, he is far out to sea. I'm glad you're both here; I'm willing to offer you both the same deal. We have Trade, we are consolidating control over Security and Justice."

"I'll tell you what we told Paavue," the male, Mofton, was it? Zuunti shook off the irrelevancy, and listened. "We control both star systems here, the asteroid belts, the orbitals, the sky, sea, and land. You can try to play political games, like the assistants to Paavue and Taaman tried, and you'll wind up out of a job or in our prison. For you two, you cash out all your properties, and we do mean all. You get on your boats; set sail, and we never see you again. A peaceful, orderly transition of power..."

Zuunti was about to ask how they figured value, when Daala slammed his fist down, "Never! Give up what I have for a few grams? Let a mere female steal the work of a life? Never! You will have to fight honestly for it! I call challenge, you cowardly censored !"

"You call me coward?" Wayne said, moving forward so she was leaning over his desk. "Fine. I will fight you; I accept your challenge. When and where?"

"Challenge accepted!" Daala roared. "We fight! My fortune, my lands and holdings against yours!"

Zuunti sucked in a breath as the female stood up, eye to eye with Daala. "We fight," she said calmly. "I accept the stakes. Name the time."

"Today. Fifteenth hour, at the dueling pit. Bring your champion, female," he spat.

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Wednesday, July 17, 2002: 09:17 (GMT) (Firsday, 23 Quintus, 162: 15:05)
Windfall, High Town, Courthouse dueling pit:
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"Explain to me why I'm the one doing this?" Arthur asked as he limbered up. To guard against hidden weapons and armor, and to prove he was male, he had stood naked and blushing, turning for the crowd's inspection in the shallow 'pit', then quickly donned a pair of boxers. His opponent, a tall (for a local), and muscular guardsman chosen by Daala as his champion, wore only a breech clout.

"Because I wasn't up on the local code duello," Mattie explained. "Use of a champion is mandatory for females and the champion has to be someone who was present at the time when the challenge was issued, which was this morning. Sorry, my bad."

"And Gruber's not doing it because he wasn't there."

"Yep."

Arthur sighed. "At what point do we decide this is a horrible idea and fall back on superior firepower?"

"Before you die."

Arthur blinked twice. "Gee, thanks honey."

Mattie smiled, if Arthur was in danger, she'd use her Ring, just like Otto was in a sniper's nest within easy shot. "If we can win this under their rules, it'll go a long way toward helping peacefully reform the government here."

Arthur gave her a look. "What is this 'We', kemosabe?"

"Use your reach advantage, and don't grapple, they're stronger than they look. Use their strength against them: Judo." Mattie briefly kissed him and climbed the steps out of the dirt floored arena.

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"As you are not of the People, I will explain how the Challenge proceeds," Daala said in his role as Challenged Party and Master of Ceremonies. "As Challenged, I set the rules for the combat. You will fight without weapons, the way the Water Bringer intended. You may not receive outside aid of any sort. You may not leave the arena; the first to kill or disable your opponent wins. Failure to obey these rules will result in the death of your associates."

'You just try that,' Arthur thought, as he was lead to the center of the arena for the last of the formalities before the duel could begin.

"Your mate?" his opponent asked, waving toward the front row where Mattie sat.

"My intended mate," Arthur clarified.

"So you haven't..."

"No."

"Fascinating." Formally, he stated, "I am Miika, third-son of Daala. Have that name ready for the Inquisitors of the Dark Pool if you wish to reach the Afterworld."

"I am Arthur Donald Morton and I've already met the ruler of Hell. Tell him I sent you."

While the exchange wasn't according to protocol, it was sufficient. Miika lashed out with a straight right hand, which Arthur barely blocked. Mattie was right; the locals were stronger than they looked.

When the strike was repeated split seconds later, Arthur was ready for it, parrying with his right forearm and striking out with his left fist. It connected with his foe's shoulder, but did no damage.

Miika bull-rushed, but Arthur nimbly spun away from the attack and the two that followed, adding an elbow strike to the final pass. Switching back to a boxing style offense, Miika launched punches that weren't quite reaching his opponent. He left openings to encourage his opponent to attack, but the Terran wouldn't bite. Not that he blamed him. If those feeble blows were the best he could do, a stand up fight would be the last thing he wanted. Wearing him down would have to suffice.

Three long minutes later, with Arthur taking more than he'd dealt, Daala leaned over to Mattie and said, "Your champion dodges well, but he is tiring. I hope you enjoy being my slave."

Mattie replied lightly, but clearly, "The loser becomes the slave of the winner? Keep that in mind, Daala." Inwardly, she worried. Had she been allowed to fight for herself, the battle would have been over in seconds. Still, Arthur was holding his own. 'Have to run him through a few rounds with Zogger when we get home,' she thought.

Arthur knew he couldn't dodge forever. He'd have to go on the offensive at some point if he wanted to win. At his first opportunity, he planted his right foot and launched a snap kick toward Miika's gut, which Miika caught in an iron grip.

"Dodge me now, Terran," Miika crowed. The battle was all but over.

Taking advantage of the lower gravity, Arthur hopped up on his right leg and whipped his right foot into Miika's unprotected head in a classic insiguri. Both fighters fell to the ground, but Arthur recovered first. Pouncing on his opponent, Arthur looked for the nerve cluster in the shoulder region... there! A quick knuckle strike, and Miika suddenly collapsed. Checking his pulse, Arthur stood, picking up the loser's left arm and letting it flop to the dirt.

"I believe you said the losers become slaves, Daala?" Mattie asked the thunderstruck Elder.

"He... he cheated! You... coached him! I call assistance!"

"I was trained," Arthur replied. "I fought under your rules, in your arena. No one assisted me in this combat. They all witnessed it," he added, waving to the crowd. "You will deny me my victory?"

"He is alive," one of the court bailiffs called, checking Miika.

"Oh, go ahead, collar the fool," Daala said, waving at the unconscious Miika. "As Clan Elder, I want him gelded, I don't want him in my bloodline."

"That takes care of Miika, what about you, Daala?" Mattie asked loudly. There was an ugly murmur to the crowd.

"I am Grand Councilor! I am not a slave!"

"You are the loser in a trial by combat, as is your champion," the head bailiff replied. "You informed the female that the loser became the slave of the victor. Do you deny your own words, Daala, or does your honor mean nothing?" She waited, gauging the crowd, then motioned to a subordinate, "Strip and collar him. The female has won, she may claim victor's rights."

"I do so," Mattie said, and the head bailiff said, "Yes, Councilor," confirming Mattie's new status. The bailiff added, "Geld the unconscious slave, too."

"Wait, if I have victor's rights here, I don't want a slave, and I don't want him gelded." The crowd paused, uncertain. He didn't want the slave he'd clearly won?

Daala, firmly held in the grip of the two bailiffs, was confused. The young human had just fought, risking his life and freedom for the female who had challenged, no, taken, his position. And yet, mere moments later, it was clear that same human was willing to fight against her. He may be able to profit from this yet, but it was very odd.

Mattie turned, "Officer? Would you be kind enough to explain something?"

She left the convict in the care of two of her troopers, "Yes, Councilor? How may I assist?"

Motioning to Daala, she continued, "I do apologize, but as you know, I am not fully up to speed on local laws and customs. Is it normally the case in a duel that the losers are enslaved?"

"Normally, no," she said. "The original Challenge was for position and property. Had your champion lost, you would then have forfeited your properties, including your lands, slaves, and starships." The crowd murmured in agreement as she continued, "While unusual, it is acceptable under current law. What makes this court case..."

"This is a court case?" Arthur interrupted.

"Yes, Champion," the bailiff replied, ignoring the discourtesy. "As legal as in the courthouse itself. Why do you think the dueling pit was built on Court Land?" Arthur could hear the capital letters. "As Master of Ceremonies, it is unusual to modify a Challenge. However, the former Daala was legally entitled to do so." Clearing her throat, she clarified, "The former Daala extended the Challenge for legal status." She shrugged, "He is collared by his own words, Councilor. You have no say in the matter, it is a matter of law."

"My apologies for my previous rudeness, Officer," Arthur said with a small bow, and a ripple of approval went through the crowd. She smiled behind her mask, and made a small gesture, "If we do not wish the slaves, what then?"

"Your own choice, Champion, is for the one you defeated, the former Miika," she replied. "If you do not wish him, he will be auctioned on the block as a full slave, with a judicial collar. You have right of first refusal." She crossed her wrists behind her, and Arthur nodded, recognizing the sign. "Your mate's choice is different. She must decide to accept all or none, as that was the modified conditions under which you fought. Should she not wish the judicial slave formerly named Daala, she may sell him, but she must initially accept the slave before she does so, as well as the former Daala's property and position." She looked hard at him; and then turned to look at Mattie, "She would be the first female on the Council of Elders. If she declines acceptance of the slave..."

"I have fought for nothing..." he said. "Would you object if I consult with my mate in private? We have our own moral and ethical code to follow."

The bailiff took a step back, as Mattie jumped down into the pit, and he said softly, "Another fine mess..."

"Sometimes I think I should travel with a lawyer," she admitted. "The way I see it, Daala got greedy and figured he'd get my property as well as my neck in a collar. You, he probably intended to hang."

"Sounds like him," he sighed. "What do you think?"

"I think..." she mused. "If I decline Daala, I decline everything," and she reached up to gently wipe away a trickle of blood. "We're back where we started, one of his allies will buy Daala, and he'll continue to cause problems, and we haven't really accomplished anything. All of the plans we have will need to be reworked, without the political leverage that we would have had."

"And we'd be slave owners," he said bitterly.

"Strictly speaking, we, or rather I am, through Christine, and all the rescued girls," she said. "There's also all the slaves in the different Ministries, the Elder's private property, and so forth. I don't see a good way out of that one, unless..." He waited as she thought, then she looked up, "Our problem here is Miika and Daala. Miika, when he wakes up, is going to be pissed as hell at Daala."

"I would be," he agreed.

She nodded, "We accept both of them, and you arrange with Miika for Daala's escape. We know he's got an island hideaway and a boat, once he makes his move, we search and can't find him. Daala can't come back to create problems, he's an escaped slave, which gives him a death sentence. We don't kill him, his political influence is gone, he's out of our hair, and we don't have to worry about his becoming a martyr."

"That'd be slightly better than a public exile," Arthur grunted. "What about Miika?"

"Up to him," she replied. "He can escape with Daala, and we can't find him either. On the other hand, if he doesn't want to live with Daala for the rest of his life, he participates in the search for Daala, and as a reward for his long and faithful service, we have the System Governor annul his conviction, and then you free him."

"You really don't like Daala, do you?"

"Remind me to show you Uncle Eddie's report on him and the Council." She rested her forearms on his shoulders, leaning forward to touch foreheads when she jerked back. "Oh, damn." Taking a step back, she held out her right hand and a hologram emerged from her Ring. Arthur, as well as the others, could see a Wookie speaking and gesticulating. She replied, "I'll be there as quick as I can, Amber," and cut the connection. She stretched up to give Arthur a kiss, "I got to go, dear. Got to handle an invasion, take care of things for me." With a thought, her halter-top and denim skirt shimmered and transformed to black tights; a green turtleneck leotard with a small green Lantern logo. She rose up on a shaft of green light, and with the crack of a sonic boom, she was gone.

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"My Lord Lantern," the chief bailiff said, kneeling, her head down. "We did not know..."

"You weren't supposed to," Arthur replied. "Still, it's only one invasion, it shouldn't take her long. We need to finish this," and a half-squad of infantry appeared, deploying around him. He strode over to the chief bailiff, telling her, "Stand up, please. You were saying, Daala is collared by his own words, if we take him or not."

"Yes, My Lord Lantern," she said, lowering her head again. "Please forgive us, we did not mean to offend..."

"You have not," he informed her. "Daala, on the other hand, is a pain in the ass. Stand him up, please," he asked her guards, who vaulted to their feet, almost throwing him to his. "Daala, you are a pain. You're more trouble than you're worth, so I'm going to give you a choice. Mattie doesn't like killing her enemies. I'm not so reluctant." Daala looked at him curiously as he continued, "I'll give you a choice, a collar with us, or a noose on the High Street."

Arthur could see the calculation in the old man's eyes. He lowered his head, "Your collar, my lord." Taking a step back, Arthur gestured to Daala's guards.

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Wednesday, July 17, 2002: 11:59 (GMT) (Firsday, 23 Quintus, 162: 17:42)
Windfall, High Town, Grand Councilor's home:
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"Oh... this is NICE..." Arthur said as he was escorted to the former Grand Councilor's home. While essentially a cave built into the side of the volcano, it was a luxurious cave, with fine wooden floors, graceful wall hangings, and wide windows looking out across the caldera and to the sea beyond. Other islands could be seen in the distance, as well as a smudge of land on the far horizon. He turned at the patter of feet and the shimmering sound of a slave's bells. A girl came in, dropping to her knees and bending forward, head down, wrists out for binding. He caught her, and the girl sighed through her heavy black mask.

"I think you just accepted her as a slave," the Feldwebel said. He took a step forward as the slave whimpered once, her head still down. "Sit back, girl, let us take a look at you." The girl relaxed back, hands on her spread knees, head down. She wore a white slave smock with the ubiquitous yellow edging, a galactic collar and belt, the local registration tattoo and breast chains.

"What's that on your ankles?" the Feldwebel asked, adding "On your belly, please, and feet up in the air." The girl did so, cuffing herself as they examined the black metal. Forming a dull point on the top of her foot, the device forced her to walk on her toes. "Do all of Daala's slaves wear these things?" he asked. The girl whimpered once, and Arthur said, "Why should Daala be different than the other Elders? Lead us to the rest of the girls, please."

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"It's a beautiful planet, but I'm really starting to hate some of the people," Arthur said, sheathing his wand as he finished cutting the steel of a slave girl's hobbles. One of the brawnier soldiers bent it off her ankle, and she sobbed as another popped the rivets holding her heavy leather mask on. The hobble clanked as it was tossed into the pile in the slave cell. Daala's prisoners had also been examined and released from their more painful restraints, locked into cells until more information was available.

The slave was helped to her knees, the feeding tube extracted from her throat as she coughed. She leaned forward, dry-heaving, wrists still cuffed behind her as Arthur said, "Next few days are no-work days for you girls. Only those who can stand will cook, and that's very simple foods. You stay off your feet as much as possible, until we can get you girls fixed up." She coughed, jaw working, then croaked, "Yes, master."

"I want to get those chains off their breasts," the Feldwebel said. "I can imagine how painful those must be." He looked at the pile of discarded hobbles, lips drawing back in a snarl. "I'd like to see how long Daala lasts in a pair of those..."

"I know, but unfortunately we're the good guys."

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"Oh, this is just stupid," Arthur said as he entered the kitchen to see the dozen or so slaves trying to go about their normal routine despite obvious pain. "Right, all you girls, on your bellies, head to toe in a circle, you're going to massage each others' lower legs and feet." Otto sat on the floor and started to massage a calf. "Flex the foot, gently, Fraulein," he told her. "Do not force it, be patient."

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There was a tone, and one of the girls said (her throat still raw), "The lower entrance, master. Were you expecting anything?"

"Could be Miika," a trooper named Friedrich said. "I'll fetch him in for you," with a nod from the Feldwebel. "I'll carry you if you can show me, girl?"

"Of course, master," and she cuffed herself. At his raised eyebrow, she said, "I am a slave, master, we must keep up proper appearances if you are to carry me off for your pleasure."

"Just carry you, then, it would be too much like having my own daughter, girl," he said uncomfortably. She pouted in frustration.

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"This is the lower entrance, master," the girl said as she rode face-forward in a fireman's carry.

He looked at the heavy wooden door, banded with more expensive iron, asking, "How did you lot open that?"

"With two slaves, master," she replied as he set her down to kneel. He pounded once on the door, "Who goes there?"

"Two slaves for delivery," the bored reply came. Friedrich started undoing the various locks, then threw the last one with his weapon at the ready. He pulled at the door and saw a short detail of a 'corporal' and three 'privates', all female, with two kneeling male slaves. He glanced around, and the corporal offered a clipboard, "Sign for the slaves, please." Smirking, she added, "Enjoying yourself?"

"Singing lessons," he replied blandly. "Let me see these two," and confirmed they were Miika and Daala. "Sing for me, girl."

"Um... 'La, la, laaa,' master,'" she tried.

"See, voice like a bird. She should do it professionally. Inside, you two." He gave the 'corporal' a lazy salute, and closed the door, and with a 'clank', bolted it shut.

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"Here we are, milord, one Miika," Fredrich said, escorting the male slave into the kitchen. "And my little bird was a wonderful guide," pulling her off his shoulder and setting her back on her knees.

"Thank you, master," she said. "May we leave Daala there to die?"

Arthur saw a suppressed snort from Miika as he asked, "Where is he?" At Fredrich's motion, the slave girl said, "In a punishment cell, master. I hope he takes a long time to die there."

"I get the feeling Daala doesn't have too many supporters here," Arthur replied. "Unfortunately, we can't simply kill him, we didn't even want him, or Miika in a collar." Miika raised his head, then quickly lowered it again. "Miika, relax, we're not your enemy, and somebody get that damn mask off him." The Feldwebel did so, springing his cuffs loose as well.

"Thank you, master," he said. A new judicial collar glowed on his neck as he massaged his wrists, regarding them. Arthur returned his gaze, Miika finally broke the silence, "Master, may I ask why you wished me collared?"

"I did not," Arthur replied. "Anyone who told you that was misinformed. We are opposed to the institution of slavery, but we didn't have any choice where you or Daala were concerned. Daala is the one that wanted you gelded. I simply knocked you out."

Miika regarded him in silence. "Daala?" he finally said softly. He massaged his chin, "Why not enslave your enemies, keep them in sight; put them to work for you?"

"Are these girls my enemies?" Arthur asked softly, waving at the household slave girls. "You're not my enemy, you were Daala's tool to try to steal Mattie's property. When Daala's plan failed, he discarded his tool. That still doesn't make you my enemy."

Heinrich added, "Our moral and ethical code does not permit the enslavement, sale or trade of another sentient being."

"In the past," Otto said, "We have fought bloody civil wars, father against daughter, brother against sister, over this issue. It is in our recent past, and still causes strong feelings. Tell me, would you toss a newborn child on a fire?"

"WHAT?" Miika said in outrage.

"So we feel about slaves," the Feldwebel said. "Now, we might have convicts, judicial prisoners that are chained to prevent escape, but they are not slaves. They work for a certain number of years and are paid for their work."

"You PAY your slaves, master?" one of the girls asked in shock.

"No, we pay our employees," Arthur replied. "Just like we pay our prisoners of war for their labor, and slave girls here are allowed bank accounts. Also, the terms 'master' and 'mistress' are rather offensive to us. We understand that you've been raised from birth to think you're a slave, that you're not a person, but an animal. We understand that you're conditioned to use those terms. Out there," he waved, indicating the rest of the planet and the galaxy at large, "you can use those terms, and we'll endure it."

There was silence as they tried to wrap their heads around these concepts. After a few minutes, one kneeling girl mused quietly, "That's... almost freedom..."

"Tell me, what is freedom? What does that mean to you?" Fredrich asked gently.

She sighed, and somewhat wistfully said, "To say what I want, go where I want, do what I want, master."

"The first one's simple enough," Arthur said. "Tell us the truth; we'd rather have it. However, to us, the terms 'mistress' or 'master' have two meanings. One, which means 'owner', is offensive to us."

Another girl coughed, and sipped her tea. "What is the second meaning, mas..." she blinked, "I do not know what to say besides 'master', without giving offense."

"My personal name is Arthur, my clan name, or family name, is Morton," he replied. "If you must use a title, for a male you can use 'Sir', for a female, 'Ma'am'." He moved to the teapot, filling one for Miika, then his own. As he handed it over, he added, "The second meaning for 'mistress' or 'master' to us is 'teacher', although you could use 'sensei'. This also means 'teacher', it would be used as 'Sensei Morton'."

"The second part is more difficult," Otto said. "To go and do what you want, you must be able to pay for it, and you must be able to do it safely."

Another girl sighed in defeat, "It was a beautiful dream, to be free..." she said.

"You can be," Arthur said, and the girls bolted upright, a few asking "Master?"

"There is two parts to your freedom, mental and physical. The mental part is training you to think free, the physical part is your collars, belts, and so forth."

"Think free, master?" the girl asked.

"We have been operating a resettlement camp at Port Lincoln for several months now," Arthur said. "We take in slave girls that had a death sentence, mostly bred slaves from WorkForce, and help them to think outside their collars, to reason things out for themselves. Instead of being told to do this, this, and this, in a specific way, they have a list of things that need to be done, and they figure out the rest."

A few girls shivered, but one said, "I remember... before I was collared..." She looked up at Arthur, "Mas..." she shook herself, "My apologies, was it..." she cocked her head.

"'Sensei' is the term," the Feldwebel said. "Excellent. Can you help these other girls?"

"Yes, Sensei," the girl said. "I would be pleased to." She shifted to address the other slaves, "If I understand correctly, even if our new owners wished to, it is not as simple as waving a hand, not as simple as removing our chains. We still kneel; we have crossed our wrists to them. We must earn our freedom, but now, it is possible, if we learn what they will teach us."

"We may earn our freedom, Master?" one slave asked.

"We still speak and act as slaves, we are dressed like slaves, collared and belted as slaves," the girl who had first met them said. "If we were to go out and shout, 'I'm free!' none would believe us."

"That is what we mean when we say 'think free', even if you're still wearing a lit collar," Arthur said.

"Like we're in, master..." one girl said, then blushed, "Please forgive me!"

"Try, please," the Feldwebel said. "We know we are asking you to break the habits of a lifetime. Please continue, Herr Morton."

"The problem is that in order to move a girl between collars, she has to go through a slaver machine," Arthur explained. "We have two of them, and to place or change a collar takes thirty seconds or so. Adding another minute to get her in and out of the machine, and with forty-two hundred girls, two machines at ninety seconds each, that's fifty-two and a half hours. Where the real bottleneck is..."

"Bottleneck?"

"The... slow point is," he re-phrased, "Is if a girl requires medical care, like you all do. Every slave girl on this island, all fifty thousand, wear those stupid breast chains (he gestured with his teacup), you lot wore the hobbles, and the feeding masks. To get you lot back up to speed, at the very least we're going to have to cut off those neck rings and chains, which will take..." he shrugged.

"Let us get that done here, with these girls. We can then estimate the time better," the Feldwebel said. "I called in, they are sending us the appropriate equipment. We shall wait..."

"No, master," Miika said. "We are slaves, we shall wait for the package. It would not be proper for you to do so."

"I agree, master," the First Girl said, the other slaves nodding. "Appearances must be maintained."

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

"Join me, please, Miika," his new Master told him, and of course he did. Opening the door to the small room built outside, he gestured Miika out, adding, "Please, speak freely." Miika nodded, standing next to the barrier that his new Master leaned against. Lord Arthur sighed after looking at the sea for a time, "What I'd like to do is drop Daala into the nearest volcano, but my moral code won't let me."

Miika was tempted to ask why not. After battle, the winners did whatever they wanted to the losers. His master continued, "I'd prefer a public exile, but an unofficial one can hurt Daala a lot more as long as slavery is legal here. However, I wonder how much influence he would have as a slave."

The concept of slavery not being legal shook Miika to his core. 'How can order be maintained without slavery?' he thought. That, and other questions welled up in his mind, only to be stopped short of his tongue. "He... might take some of his hostages with him. He is said to keep relatives imprisoned here. That may hold off pursuit," Miika mused aloud.

His Master continued, "Then you need to ensure that anyone going with him goes voluntarily. This is where you get a chance to earn your freedom." Arthur wanted to know if the local would free himself.

"Me, Mas... Milord?" The flash of annoyance that crossed his features over the slip was worthy of a master; that much was certain.

"Daala has a sailboat hidden where he thought no one would find it, however, we did. The cargo shows every sign of being carefully chosen: non-perishable food, seeds, tools, metal, waterproof cloth." He turned to look at Miika, "Everything that he might need to establish himself in reasonable comfort on another island with as many or few people as he can cram on board. Your job is to make certain he uses it."

"How, Milord?"

"As you and Daala are the first 'slaves' (his master made a hand gesture) I've owned, it won't be much of a surprise if the two of you slip away. The tricky part for you is making sure that Daala goes alone or that anyone who does go with him goes voluntarily."

"Including myself?" Miika asked cautiously.

"Do you have reason to go?" Arthur asked in return.

Knowing Daala, a veritable fortune was stored on that craft. How to obtain that and his freedom would require some thought. But leaving, with or without Daala, would brand him as an escaped slave, a condition definitely to be avoided. What good was wealth that couldn't be spent? "I... do not know. I think it very unlikely that any slave of Daala's household would seek to join him in exile."

"I agree."

Miika was not surprised. "If I freed him, he would suspect. He should expect to die by my hand, not escape because of it."

"Then you may need to get one or more of the girls in on your plan. After what he had locked on their feet, I don't think they would voluntarily do so, but they may ACT as if they will. Come up with a plan, our goal is to get Daala on the boat and out to sea. Let me know what it is so I can help." Miika was shocked that he was entrusted by his new Master in such a thing. Lord Arthur surprised him further by asking, "Did you have anything you wished to discuss with me privately?"

"N... not at the present time, Milord."

"Then let's go back inside," and the door was held for him again.

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

"They have arrived," the Feldwebel said when Arthur and Miika returned. "A bolt-cutter has been tested on these ring collars, and we are ready to use the laser cutter for the hobbles. We may use the antibiotic, or simply a strong alcohol when we remove the nipple-rings." He made a face, "They are simply crimped in place, so they can be pried off." He turned to face the girls in the kitchen, "This may be painful. I need a volunteer, preferably one with large breasts?"

"I volunteer, master," one of the off-world slaves said, sitting up. She brushed back her reddish-blonde hair, and Arthur saw she wore a judicial collar, and was Enhanced, "Please do not take this incorrectly, but I am pleased that former master Daala is being punished, and as a slave himself," she said with a certain amount of vicious pleasure. Miika stroked his chin as the girl seated herself; Arthur saw she also wore penalty brands as she perched on the corner of a chair. Otto and the Feldwebel leaned over, muttering in German as they examined her.

"Ach, two stages," Otto said, standing up and massaging his lower back. "After removing the bells, the connecting ring from the chain to the metal cover is simply mated, not welded. We simply pull it apart, sloppy work. The girls can do it themselves. The metal cover, though, is pressed through the nipple tissue, presumably with a hand tool. It can also be pulled apart, but risks infection, and is likely to be painful. Where is the alcohol?"

"We shall fetch it," Fredrich said, and scooped up his 'songbird'. "Come, girl. We need the purest drinking alcohol. Show me where the bar is."

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

"Oh, it hurts," the girl sobbed, her hands cuffed behind her. She threw back her head, "Please continue, masters."

"There," Otto said, standing up. He turned her around, releasing her hands so she could now grab her slightly bloody nipples. He handed her the two thin disks of light steel, her ring collar on the floor next to her. She touched her breasts, confirming to herself they were off, then grabbed Otto in a fierce hug, "Oh, thank you, master!" She kissed him, then turned to the Feldwebel, "You too, master!"

"You are most welcome," he said; then helped her stand. "Now, the alcohol will sting, but it is necessary to prevent infection. Through the holes, now, and then put on a very clean tunic to protect them."

"Yes, master!" she said gleefully.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Wednesday, July 17, 2002: 12:07 (GMT)
Terra, University of London, Education Department lunchroom:

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

"Minerva said to me the other day," Callista Vector said as she opened up her lunch. "The L1 station wasn't quite what she imagined it to be."

"Please continue," Severus said. "I daresay Bella is considering it for ours, any information would be appreciated." He took a bite of his apple, then a sip of tea.

"That is the type of thing the gents arrange," Harry agreed. "Ginny got Gred and Forge's reports that they emailed to Ms. Wayne, but Angelina and Alicia had a different take." He opened up his own lunch bag, as several other members of the class listened in. "Callista, feel free to chip in here," and he opened a can of soda with a 'pshstt' sound.

"Minnie expected it to be something like a submarine, and the initial platform, the one in low orbit, does look like one," Callista said after taking a sip of tea from a thermos. "It, and the higher one in GEO orbit, are transit stations. She did say she was told the residential areas were much nicer, but still, it looked like what it was, a big aluminum box with windows. Then again, no one expects five-star appearance from a Tube station."

"True, or an airport," Professor Knewell said. "The view must have been spectacular, though. What about lost luggage?"

"They made-do with large carryons," Harry put in. "Miss Wayne and Mr. Morton, as part of their wedding gifts, paid for their suits and a week's stay, but extra bags are still £50 a kilo."

There were whistles, and Callista raised a finger, "That's come down substantially, the Yank shuttle's price is ten thousand dollars a kilo. Still, there aren't many destinations, so they do with coloured luggage tags." She raised a hand, "L1, L4, L5, GEO, and the Eunomia station in the Belt. Rather difficult to mess up that system. Now, the major cost of the ticket is the suit, which runs about £2500, and that's come down also. Rather like a white bodysuit, it's laser-measured, and once you're fit, you cannot gain weight. Part of the trip is in zero gee and vacuum."

Harry added, "Severus, you might mention to Bella that you'll be muggles, so pack your wands and potions." He took a swallow of his soda, as Callista said, "Albus' largest problem was his hair and beard, he had refused to cut them, so getting an airtight seal on his helmet was a problem."

"How so?" one of the students asked.

"Albus Dumbledore is an old man, 160 or so, with a full white beard and hair," Filius Flitwick said, and Pomona added, "Waist length." Filius nodded, "Since hair stands out in zero-gee, like the old 'afro' style, and you must have a perfect seal, I can see this as a problem. I'm sure he was asked to cut them, it's not like they couldn't easily be regrown, but he can be incredibly stubborn on some things." He clapped his hands, "What else, how was the food?"

"Very fresh, although the beef was expensive, and imported," Callista replied. "Most of the meat was chicken, fish, or goat. Cattle are not cost-efficient for a station," she added, "and milk-cows have to be kept pregnant. High-calcium diet, so there was a great deal of excellent vegetarian food, and plenty of places to work it off. The hotel's restaurant she marked as needing a bit of work, primarily because of the lighting, it was rather dim. However, the view was spectacular, huge windows. However, there were quite a few other, family-type restaurants, including a decent sized curry house."

"So meat wasn't available?" a student asked.

Harry put in, "No, no. Chicken, fish, goat meat were all available, but beef had to be flown up, and was expensive. There are extensive gardens, and the fruit trees are still young, they haven't produced yet, so apples and suchlike were also shipped up. There was also quite a bit of sport, tennis, basketball..."

"Swimming," Callista said, having finished her sandwich, and grinning, "Albus had a spot of bother, he got into the middle of a bubble of water and couldn't get out."

"Ah," Severus said. "Sir Issac Newton strikes again. However, one does not book a honeymoon suite to swim in a pool. How was the consummation?"

"Doesn't NASA have a 'hundred mile high club'?" one student asked with a smirk.

"Being a government agency," Callista said. "I am certain there are scientific studies about that, and as memory serves, there was at least one married couple aboard their shuttle." She grinned, "However, the suites themselves, there are an even dozen, received a down-mark from Minerva, due to the..." (She cleared her throat), "...soundproofing."

"The lack thereof," Harry clarified. "They are very close to the axis of rotation, and any gravity is thus microscopic. As far as the bed, it is not what one has on Earth, a mattress. Instead, one has a marital tube."

"Marital TUBE?" Professor Knewell asked.

"More properly, a siphon or funnel," Callista said, vastly amused. "An aluminum ring on either end, about six feet across, lets you into a mesh tube about ten feet long and four feet across. If you think about the mechanics of the act..."

"Most clever," Severus commented. "One has a place to brace, traction by means of one's fingers and toes, and it is presumably open enough for the claustrophobic. Much better than NASA's plan on using straps and a harness. I presume other surfaces were available?"

"You presume correctly. Padded surfaces aplenty," Callista said with a smirk. "One other thing for Bella to know, Severus. While they did see business wear, most of the hotel was casual wear; leotards and casual skirts or shorts for the ladies, and the hotel's corporate wear was in the hotel's colours of dark green and silver."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Wednesday, July 17, 2002: 17:29 (GMT) (Firsday, 23 Quintus, 162: 24:17)
Windfall, High Town, Grand Councilor's home:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Come in, C'ari, have a seat," Arthur said that night. "I'm having this conversation with all the girls, I've already talked to Miika." The attractive redhead knelt in front of his chair, and he said, "You can sit on a chair, you know. I want you to be comfortable; this is just between you and I. No master, no slave. Two people."

"Yes, master," she said. "If it is master's order for me to sit, I will."

Arthur shook his head, "No, as long as you're comfortable, and you don't have to call me master, remember?"

"Yes, master, I do," and she tapped her implant. "I am an Enhanced slave, master. How may I serve you, master?"

He sighed, leaning back in his chair and addressing the ceiling, "I'm trying to find out things about each of you girls, but some of the digital information is restricted, I'm going to have to dig up and inspect the physical records." He massaged his eyes, "Can you help me find them?"

"Yes, master." Her voice was robotic, and he snapped forward. The girl was high on her knees, hands cuffed behind her, staring straight ahead. "C'ari, um, what happened?"

"Master restricted this slave, then ordered inspection position," she replied in her machine-like voice. "How may this slave assist, master?"

"Um..." Arthur thought, "Tell me about yourself? How do I, um, get you back to normal?"

"This slave is an enhanced model 128 WorkForce product. Command codes are specified in sales data for this slave. This slave does not have access to command codes."

"Joy. Um, more information, please, on model 128."

Her tone changed into a sales pitch, "The popular Model 128 is a chase slave. Designed for high intelligence, creativity, and cunning, the slave is enhanced with strength, stamina, a rapid healing ability, a biological and digestive system able to tolerate a wide range of animal and vegetable proteins, as well as a high tolerance for pain when she is recaptured. Visually designed for high recognizability, the slave is designed to be attractive, enhancing any households' decor. Buy one now!" Her voice changed back, "Does master wish information on other popular WorkForce models similar to this slave?"

"Er, no. I'd like to talk to C'ari. Can you, um, release her?"

"Command code not valid. Slave accessible."

"C'ari, can you hear me, talk to me? What's the release code?"

"I don't know, master. I don't have access to that part of my implant. Please, master, please..." her voice changed again, "This slave loves her collar."

"Okay... I'm going to assume the opposite of that statement. C'ari?"

"Yes, master. This slave is your slave, what do you wish to know?"

"Aside from releasing you..." he paused, but she remained high on her knees, ignoring the command code, "What would you like me to do with you?"

Her voice changed again, "If this slave is not suitable, sell this slave. This slave desires only her collar."

"Oh, boy," he said. "Let's try this code. Um, 'Model 128 slave release'." Nothing happened. "Um, Model 128, slave... (He leaned forward to read her collar) ...15006, release." The girl collapsed, crying. She looked up at him, "Thank you, master!" she snapped.

"Hey, I tried..." and she glared at him. "I'm going to assume you don't love your collar?"

"Would you, master?" she struggled with her cuffs, "Designed, bred, and sold as a decorative household slave that a master can hunt for sport? That once her inevitable capture is accomplished, she can be punished, whipped and beaten, branded and collared as a criminal, for obeying her orders? That she can be turned into a... machine for the pleasure of her master? Oooh, I hate this! I hate everything about this!" She knelt, knees wide, wrists still cuffed behind her, crying, "I want my freedom... I want out of this collar... Source, please... I don't ask much, just my collar..."

She cried, then when she heard nothing from her new master, turned, and he was asleep in his chair. C'ari was slightly offended, but thought to herself, 'I am only a slave, it is understandable that Master should not be concerned with me.' Rising, she silently made her way from Master's office to the entrance to Master's suite, where she found Master's First Slave Miika waiting. Kneeling, she asked softly, "First? Our new Master is asleep in the office, and requires bathing, dressing his injuries, and a long, restful sleep. In addition, I require discipline for talking too much and being rude to our Master. Please gag me, then I will assist you."

The First Slave rubbed his chin, "We do not know how long Master will require sleep to heal. Where should I bind you?"

"That is the First Slave's choice, but as Master was questioning this slave when he fell asleep, there are suitable facilities in Master's office for binding and disciplining a slave," C'ari replied.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Wednesday, July 17, 2002: 08:17 (GMT)
Terra, Hogwarts, Infirmary:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"How are my two ladies doing today?" Poppy Pomfrey asked, entering the small private room where the two floated.

"I want to scratch," Doc said, Sandra echoing, "I agree. This is driving me insane."

"I did say there would be some mild irritation..." the medi-witch said.

"We do tend to understate the sensations slightly," the off-world Healer agreed. "May I inquire about the small beings, about a meter high, with pointed ears? Are they slaves? They keep referring to us as 'mistress'."

"Those are house elves," Poppy said. "They do the laundry, cooking, cleaning and so forth." She sighed, "As to why they do what they do, no, they are not slaves, but they want to work, they would happily work all day and all week long, they consider it insulting to be paid, or if an elf takes a day off, they are considered 'lazy'." She shook her head, "There is a lot of history there, some of it rather shameful on our part. If you don't mind a man coming in to see you, I'll have Remus stop by, he's our History professor."

"Not at all," Sandra said, adding, "Not a single 'mistress' from you, either, Doc. Something's going right."

"Well, let me turn you over," Poppy said, and the Healer got her first look at a white sheet that hung below her. "What are those black particles?"

"Bits of metal that have worked their way through your skin, that is the cause of the itching." Doc could see more of them fall on the sheet as she rotated. "My scalp itches," she commented.

"The metal is trapped in your hair," Poppy said. "With your consent, I will shave your hair and apply a epilating potion."

"Epi... that's permanent hair removal, isn't it?" Sandra asked. "I want to keep some hair!"

"Not a problem, I will use a different potion there, one the men use instead of shaving. Simply tell me where, otherwise, your legs, arms and so forth will be permanently clean," Poppy said. "It is also not a problem to regrow whatever hair you wish to the length, colour, and texture you wish." She moved something on Doc's neck, "Did you feel that, dear?"

"Yes, I did, around my collar."

"I rotated your collar, and have moved it up and down on your neck. Would you like it removed?"

"YES!"

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

J'lan entered the Great Hall, where most of the crew of the Scythe congregated, throwing three things on the table. "Those are Doc's collar and enhancement board, and Sandra's collar. They estimate another week."

One picked up the board, staring at it, as others picked up the collars, similar to what they themselves wore. "Source..." one whispered. "I could be free of my collar..."

"I truly do hate to say this," Diijon said. "I want my collar off as much as anyone. However, as the Captain's away, I must remind people that we are covered as a slave ship, and therefore must have collared and belted slaves as crew." She took a contemplative sip of her tea, "In addition, this is taking a full month, our entire leave time. We know that common collars can be removed much more quickly, this is a secondary method, in case that fails, like it did with Sandra." She took another sip, then put her tea down with a decisive click. "Given my own situation, I will volunteer to leave my collar on but unlit; as our 'Priestess' I would ask at least two others to volunteer to leave their collars lit."

"I will, mistress," Brittany, their Chief Engineer said. "The court asked me to take another cruise with the Scythe, and I now know the removal of my Enhancement is possible. I shall ask Mac when I see her again to join me."

"I will, mistress," Pamela said. She gestured to her own judicial collar, "I wear the ship's collar, which I will not be out of any time soon, and I am First Girl, or I assume I remain so."

"I... do not know yet," One said slowly. She poured a cup of tea, "Given my own situation, mistress, the software that is linked to my own Enhancement, I wonder if it would be possible, or even a partial removal, just leaving the access port as a visible sign." She added a bit of the Terran sugar to her tea, stirring it as she thought. She picked up Sandra's collar, examining the circle of metal, and noticed the ends where the collar had attached itself to the First Officer's nervous system. "For now, mark me as wearing a lit common collar, mistress." She looked down the table at the five rescued hotel girls, who were huddled together, discussing the situation. "They are young, this gives them their lives, they do not have to wander the galaxy as collared slaves. They can grow, gain an education..."

One of the girls looked up, "That is what we are discussing, mistress. The Scythe is our ship, you are family." Another asked, "Mistress Diijon, what happened with the ship's slaves when the free crew stayed with us at the hotel?"

"They stayed in a cell on a lower level," she replied. "For a cell, it looked comfortable. Why, do you think we shall buy more hotel slaves?"

"We think it is a strong possibility, mistress," 22416 replied. "I can wear a lit collar if it will help spare a sister slave's life. It is a small sacrifice on my part, and while having a life, an education is attractive, I would feel guilt that I was placing myself, my pleasure ahead of that slave's life." She sighed, "The Scythe is a slave ship, I do not think she would carry common cargo."

"She is also not a warship," 22409 added. "That would be my preference, to be able to strike at WorkForce." She tapped her datapadd. "The Terran's news is interesting, mistress. They are making rapid gains in building their forces, and they are using machines where others would use slaves." She looked down the table at One. "I wish to gain all the knowledge I can, mistress. The higher my Guild rating, the better I will be thought of when I am of sufficient age to seek admittance to their military forces. Until then, I can kneel and wear the ship's collar."

"That makes sense," One said. "I will also include instruction on mathematics and languages."

"On our next leave," J'lan added, "I will seek training in fighting skills. There is the possibility of an attack by pirates," and Diijon said, "Sandra is said to be an expert at this. I shall inquire if she would be willing to instruct us while we are in convoy."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Wednesday, July 17, 2002: 08:31 (GMT)
Terra, London, The Leaky Cauldron:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"You're a Gryff, Longbottom, so we'll make it simple," Bella said, as he took a seat at their table. She cast a privacy spell, "You need money. We need money. The colonies need passive defenses against predatory animals. You know plants. Frank has an in with Wayne and the Guard, so we have a market. We know irontip bushes do well on other planets."

"Too bloody right they do," Frank added. "The problem with them is that there's a gap of three or four inches between the ground and where the branches start, a wee beastie can get through. Right now, they're planning on using razor wire."

"That's ugly, and expensive," Bella said. "Plants are better, preferably something that can suck in the small ones and trap them, kill them." She pointed, "That's where you come in. You know plants, and I, for my sins, will be representing you in negotiations."

Neville looked at her warily (at least he had put away his wand), "Why you?"

Frank sighed, "Y' don' negotiate wi' a Slytherin wi' out a Slytherin o' y' own, laddie. Didn't McGonagall teach y' anything? Y'd be negotiatin' wi' Miss Wayne, an' while she's a bonnie lass, she's a bloody shark. Bella's y' shark, laddie."

"Face it, Longbottom, you need money to live on. You can't keep living at your Gran's, she's going to pass on eventually. The Ministry is on another cost-cutting move, they may decide not to pay for your parents' care at St. Mungo's." Bella leaned forward, "I put them there, so I feel a certain amount of responsibility. Licensing this plant to the Guard will give both of us a nice, steady income stream."

Neville regarded the two Slytherins. While he knew, and had coached Frank on Herbology, he didn't trust Bellatrix' turnaround, even if she seemed to be honest about making things up. "What do you get out of it, Frank?"

"Aside from protectin' some people I care about from nasty wee beasties?" he replied. "I pay off a family debt, an' that's between th' Blacks an' th' MacDonalds, laddie. Naught tae do wi' Clan Longbottom, dinnae worry aboot it."

Neville nodded, he understood clan debts, and put out his hand. "Deal." The three of them shook and he said, "Bloodvine would work for your ground cover, it smells of fresh blood and grows about four inches high, then it strangles its prey."

"Excellent!" Frank said. "Nae, who owns th' rights tae th' bloodvine an' irontip bush?"

Neville blinked. Patent a plant? "Nobody, as far as I know." The two Slytherins looked at each other, then laughed. He looked at them, and Bella smiled. He knew that smile, and was somewhat nervous. "Longbottom, we need to be absolutely sure on this, but if, IF that's true, it's a bloody license to coin gold."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Thursday, July 18, 2002: 07:28 (GMT) (Seconday, 24 Quintus, 162: 07:15)
Windfall, Riverside, Governor's complex, Plans office:

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

Charlie read over the email he had received from Sprink, aboard the Nevis. He had already started crafting his reply, but as this letter was both business and personal, he had cut and pasted the business sections after he printed a copy. He leaned forward, his chair's legs thumping as he reached for his highlighter, it squeaked yellow on the page.

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

"Can I have your attention for a moment?" he asked his small staff, and people looked up from their work. He waved his copy of the email; "I got a letter from my girlfriend aboard the Nevis. Leaving out the personal bit, which I am NOT sharing with you lot again..." there were groans and a few wisecracks. Her last letter, like this one a mixture of business and personal, he had made the mistake of posting on the office bulletin board.

"Right-o. I learn from my mistakes (there was a groan), so I've put that out into two sections. We've got two projects." Charlie turned to his lead 'architect', "Lamon, besides the frosty blokes' planet, we've gotten a long-term lease on a trade planet. It's a class ten, called P'wheel, and our contract only gives us a year to get everything built." He moved to a whiteboard, drawing a quick sketch. Pointing to the circle, "I know I'm not in your class when it comes to art, forgive me. I won't go into the routing, but P'wheel, which is in this cluster, the M7. It's got a bunch of fairly young stars, about eighty of them."

"However, what we need to do is get some planning done." He checked his printout, then continued, "While I'm at my meeting, what I'd like you lot to do is some preliminary plans. P'wheel is an island planet, what they do is lease islands for trade. Now, I don't have photos or anything yet, just what she told me. (He waved one of the printouts.) She'll have those when she returns in a few weeks. It's roughly oval island, east-west in the long dimension, about fifty square kilometers total, so figure a size of ten by five kilometers. It's got a good size lagoon to the south, the landmass is the northern two-thirds, so figure ten by three." He drew an oval island with a roughly oval blue area to the south. As he drew, he said, "There's a range of hills to the north and west here, maybe two or three hundred meters high, they take up roughly the western third, sloping down as they go from west to east along the northern side."

He continued to sketch, "I'm guessing this was a volcanic island, there are apparently hundreds of these islands. Our island has one river, it starts in the southeast, then travels northeast along the hills with various lakes and such, before entering the lowest hills, curving along the flattest parts before emptying into the lagoon here." He drew a blue lake, then changed markers and drew a dam south of the lake, with a grey 'city' area at the river's mouth. "There was a previous site there, she couldn't find out precisely the reason they left. There's a hydropower installation here, upriver from what is a small settlement here, at the mouth. I don't know what the capacity is, so let's figure on installing one of those small, safe reactors here, north of the town. Better too much power capacity then not enough."

"Very true, master," one of the few male slaves said. The 'engineers nest' had been moved here for security, and he asked, "Standard dam and retention lake?"

"I don't know," Charlie replied. "If there is, it's minimal. As an option, we may need to plan on raising the dam. There was apparently a seasonal power problem, which could be why the original colony was abandoned. However, we can probably use the river for cooling the reactor." He drew in some circles, "She did say there was water and sewer plants here, although we don't know what shape this is in. Figure on underground utilities, like power lines, water and sewer pipes. They're more expensive, but they look a lot better, and they're protected."

"Bridges, master?" another engineer asked.

Charlie shrugged. "I don't know, she didn't say. I'll ask about roads and such. We'll need to work up a list of questions to send back to her. For now, assume that our trade port is here, at the southern part of the settlement. Figure water as well as air and orbital transport, and we'll need long term as well as temporary warehouses, storage areas for things we can leave outside, as well as container handling equipment and facilities. Leave lots of room for expansion. She said there was housing here and here (he drew a few stick-figure houses), but she didn't say anything about storm shelters." He looked at his designers, "Plan on some underground shelters if they don't already exist. We can put things like schools and recreation centers over them."

"Yes, master," Lamon said.

Charlie nodded once, then turned back to the whiteboard, using the black marker, "These are barrier reefs enclosing the lagoon, although I don't know how deep it is. It's part of our lease, though, so plan on the port being right on the water." He changed to a green marker, "Farms and crops, orchards and such, but we can build those up into the hills to the west and northwest."

"The Source has blessed us in that we do not have to start from bare ground," T'asi said.

Shaking his head, Charlie replied, "We don't know how much of what is there is usable. Assume none is, you can probably copy over the plans for some of the agricultural stations." He checked the clock, "I've got my meeting in a few minutes, and so I'd like to see at least a sketch or three when I get back, please." His crew nodded as he passed one of the highlighted printouts over, "Lamon, your usual crew, you've got ground-side, T'asi, you've got the challenging one. Ready?"

"Me, master?" she squeaked.

"You. I have confidence in you. We need an orbital ore refinery station to accompany the existing cargo station. Let's do it right, and make it a modular station, so we can build standard parts and assemble as we need them. Each module will need to fit in a heavy-lift shuttle's cargo bay, so we can build either on the ground or in space. Ten by twenty by forty meters, and yes, that means lots of smaller modules to make larger ones. We'll need to have these modules assembled by minimally trained workers, so something they can just plug and bolt together." T'asi swallowed, and Lamon said, "I can..."

"You can assist, Lamon, but it's T'asi's project," Charlie said. He turned back, "I'd start with making a list of common modules. For quarters, it would need to be pressurized and insulated with gravity, and remember, people will be living in them, so we want them looking nice. You might come up with a few different layouts of the rooms for different numbers of people, but with common connections for waste disposal, plumbing, power, and so forth. Remember, those will need servicing, so you might have living modules back on a service module. Don't forget lights and places for service people to connect tools." He gestured with his hands. "Power and utility cores can be structural steel with pipes and cables. Warehouses and equipment bays will be either pressurized or not. You might want to build a simple wall with light, power and gravity. Make it strong, though, in case it has to support equipment."

He moved to a different whiteboard, "Let's assume two hundred people on the station. Not only cargo handlers, but we also make it nice, a pleasant place to live. Gardens so they're an emergency food and oxygen source. Figure fifty square meters of plants per person, I'm thinking something like this." He sketched, "A central core shaft for in-station transport, utilities and such, then a habitat ring around it. Below it, warehouse modules, pressurized and not, in the center, with cargo handling in between and docking to the outside."

"We can use that for our stations here in system," one designer said.

"Exactly," Charlie agreed. "For things like handling bulk ore, and processing it, you can simply build a box around it with the wall units. You'll need docking modules, which is another standard unit; as well as control modules and docks for orbital tugs. Don't forget service bays as another standard unit, you'll need to maintain and repair tugs and other small craft." He went back to his main sketch, "Down here at the bottom of the core module, we place the reactors for power. Use the simple modular ones so we can change them out as needed."

He slapped the second highlighted printout on T'asi's drawing board, then thought for a minute, "I think that has it. Start with the list of modules, then the common connectors. Assume the people putting them together are drunken idiots, defensive design. Colour coding, different arrangement of connecting pins, that type of thing. Any questions?"

"One last question, master," Lamon asked. "Headcount on the ground."

"Maybe two thousand?" he shrugged. He checked the time, "One last thing. Each island and it's associated station run on their parent's laws, so we won't have slaves, but others might. I'll see what we can do about people from here settling there if anyone's interested." He checked the time, then disappeared into his office to grab what he needed. "I'll be back in an hour or so, get me some questions, and some rough sketches, please," and he tried to open the door with his hands full, someone got it for him.

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

A window popped open on Christine's screen, 'Five minutes to weekly public meeting: Conference room'. Fumbling with the mouse, she closed the popup, then returned to her memo that she was three-finger typing. 'I need to remember and ask Charlie what the red and green squiggles are below the words,' she told herself. Stretching, she visited the washroom, brushing out her hair, and donning the longer white over-robe. With the warm climate, she normally wore only a short smock and shorts, but as this was a business meeting... She picked up her things, only to remember at the last second and rush back to save and lock her screen. She looked at the keyboard, 'I'm jealous how quickly some people can type,' she thought, then walked out her office door. "I'll be in the conference room," she told her secretary, who replied "Yes, mistress."

"Good morning, everyone," Christine said as she swept into the conference room. She paused to set her things down at her place, then squinted and adjusted the blinds on the large window. "Mr. Adams, I'd like to get one of these picture setups in my office, please. I want to be able to see and talk to anyone in either system."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll look into it. Could you pencil me in under 'New Business', I've received an email from Sprink and the Nevis."

"Certainly," the System Governor said, and made a note. She looked up at the four screens hanging over the conference table. "I received a call from Arthur's First Slave, Miika. He is resting and being treated for his injuries, he asked that we not call unless it was urgent." She smiled faintly, "They are apparently very protective of their new master." She tapped the table; "We now have four of the five Ministries under our control. Let's start with Security. Mr. Gruber?"

"Ja," he said, and checked his own notes. "We have complete control over the Security Ministry, and over the orbiting station and the cruiser. In speaking with Herr Burnet, we believe it is time to move on to Phase Two."

"Just for the people watching in High Town," Charlie said, "Perhaps we should elaborate. Open government and all?"

"Ja," Hans said. "Phase two is an examination of both emergency laws passed by the Elders since the Plague, and if they still apply, and also the implementation of voting rights to free persons."

"That got a reaction, masters," T'ara said from High Town, where she monitored the public view screens. She popped open a window, where they could see people near the teashop on the High Street. There was a lot of discussion going on in the crowd, she minimized it as Christine said, "And they're going to have a lot to talk about. Let's elaborate, please. Mr. Adams, voting rights?"

"Yes, ma'am. Simply put, both free males and females, over the age of fifteen, will be able to vote. This is similar to our other colonies; there is a series of marks to hit toward full independence and a planetary legislature. These include civil rights, education, medical care, and so forth. I'll proceed on with the judicial, if that's all right, ma'am."

Christine waved her hand, and Charlie continued, "The original Sandur legal code, as brought from the home world, had slavery as part of the judicial process. Now, Terra does not have legal slavery, we lock up our criminals. However, on a colony world, we can understand how that would be a drain on very scarce resources. What we will be proposing, once everyone that is eligible is registered to vote, is a revision of the legal code, especially those who are currently judicial slaves. For instance, T'ara, you're wearing a judicial collar."

"Yes, master. I was sentenced to thirty years for smuggling, and given credit for being kidnapped as a free female and collared."

"So what would happen to her, as a judicial slave, is that her ownership would first be transferred to the System Governor's office. This would allow us to control her treatment; there have been too many cases of judicial slaves being abused by private owners. The second step for T'ara would be a review of her case by either Governor Sullivan, or Lieutenant Governor Castellano," Charlie said. "They would decide, based on the evidence, to let her existing sentence stand, reduce it, extend it, or annul it. They would go on the severity of her crimes, her behavior, and what she might say in her own defense. Too many were convicted without being able to speak for themselves."

"And that got another reaction, master," T'ara said. "I like what I'm hearing, please continue."

"Now, I don't think this next step would apply to T'ara, as she's been free, but it would to other slaves. We will say, for now, that T'ara's conviction is annulled, and she moves to a common collar." On the screen, Charlie interlaced his fingers, resting his chin. "The second step is to prepare a slave for her freedom. This is so she can make her own decisions, negotiate her own contracts, buy her own food and supplies like clothing, arrange for her own shelter. We will negotiate, for her, an apprenticeship in a trade, as people may know, we are opening up the mainland for colonization, and we will need a lot of help."

"In addition to the orbital factories, the mines in the asteroid belts and on the moons, there's supplying them with food, building ships and stations in orbit, all of which we'll need people to think for themselves. Not simply say, 'Yes, master'." Christine said. "Once you feel you're ready, and you've completed your apprenticeship, you can ask me for your freedom, and I'll grant it. You'll have a dark collar, but unfortunately, you would probably still be wearing a collar," and she tapped her own.

"If you decide you want a dark collar early," Benni Castellano said from the screen, "We'll do that, but you'd be in breach of contract, both with us, and with whoever you're learning a trade from."

"Can I get my ship back?" T'ara asked.

"Possibly," Christine said. "We may charter you as an official government mail boat, though, instead of as a smuggler. We'd have to do a refit, and you'd negotiate a mortgage with us for that refit and your operating costs." She turned to regard the screen, "Anyone who has passed the appropriate training would be eligible to claim an asteroid and start mining it. You would negotiate a mortgage, like T'ara, for supplies and equipment. Like any loan, it would need to be paid back, and we would require regular safety and health inspections from the Trade Ministry." She turned, "Mr. Burnet, what is the status there?"

"Relatively bloodless," he said. "We are in negotiations to buy out Elder Zuunti and his Ministry of Information. When we do so, I plan to merge the two."

The goblin banker tented his fingers, then continued, "We had not discussed the Enhanced slaves; I have made a rather unpleasant discovery. Apparently, Baasht and the other Elders had purchased a quantity of Enhanced slaves to supplement the existing computer installations. These are a particular type, designed to integrate into a computer network, and I have discussed with Mr. Pennyworth the purchase of hardware to replace them. We cannot simply unplug them, not only would it crash the Elder's computer network, it would damage their minds, if not kill them. We must do a phased installation, and while we are doing so, repair and extend the networks, not only on the planet, but in orbit as well." He motioned on the screen, "That accounts for the majority of computer equipment in my budget request, to replace those hundred and sixty slaves with non-living equipment."

"Out of a total of one hundred eighty two Enhanced slaves on planet?" Charlie asked. He added, "Just because a girl's in a judicial collar doesn't mean she's a criminal."

"Speaking of collars," Christine said. "Will we recollar those local slaves? I don't want to have two classes of slaves, with and without a galactic collar."

"Another question might be for the misdemeanor crimes, do we collar them?" Benni Castellano asked. "We'll need to track them, so we might just do what we're doing for the captured Blacks, the Council Guard; a tracking collar. A full-up galactic collar for the felony and capital prisoners."

"I think that's only fair, but using a color different than orange for the smocks, please," Mr. Burnet said. "That hurts my eyes."

"It's supposed to be obnoxious," Benni replied, to chuckles. "Why not pink, with the same blue and green lights. Anyway, how many are we talking about?"

"Those are all paper records," Herr Gruber said. "They need a proper database, and what about the 'born slaves' (he finger-quoted)? They are already with a master, what do we do about that relationship?"

"Legally, those go back to that 'Mother's Sin' law, don't they? Why don't we..." Charlie started to say.

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

"All right, moving on to new business," Christine said. "Mr. Adams, it looks like you've got both items on today's docket."

"Yes, ma'am," Charlie replied, reaching down into his bag and extracting a stuffed animal. "One of the Blacks is an excellent seamstress, she made up several of these. This is accurate sizing and coloration of a Wabbit, but it is a little light. This is only about a kilo, the actual beastie is about five or six kilos."

"It's... not cute." Christine said, examining it.

"No, it's not. It's an ambush predator, and it's rather aggressive," he told the camera. "This is for those people watching who may be considering signing up to colonize the continent with us. The Wabbit..." he waved the stuffed animal, "... throws poisoned quills from the end, here, of its tail. The poison is extremely rapid, death is within five to ten seconds." He took a drink of water, "The Wabbit is immune to its own poison, and can regenerate the quills, we do have a rough ballistics envelope. A range of about three meters laterally in a two hundred thirty degree arc, and about one to one-point-five meters high. It is not the only predator on the continent, but it is the most widespread, and the fastest breeding. The litters we've seen from our captured specimens are from six to eight young."

"Joy," Herr Gruber said from the screen. "What else?"

"They don't like electricity, but they do tunnel," Charlie added. "They will hibernate during part of the winter, they don't like tropical or semi-tropical heat. The deepest chambers and the associated tunnels we've seen them dig is about a meter or so deep. The wabbits hunt in packs, they will leave their dens during winter only to hunt."

Charlie took a sip of his tea, "We haven't come up with an economic benefit to us; they're actually a threat. The hexapod centaurs can smell them, so I would use them as bird dogs as they're hitched in a team to a wagon. The hexapods are comfortable with using spears and lances, so our design of the wagon hitch gives them a place to store a four or five meter aluminum lance. They can also be trained in acceptable behavior, this is something we want to standardize."

He took another sip of tea, "If we can use them to detect the wabbits, the drivers can kill them. In addition, once an area is of interest to us, we can sanitize it by installing an electric fence with a mowed and plowed 'death strip' of about six meters to either side, that can be done with current equipment." He showed a sketch of his proposed barrier, a concrete footing, block wall to support the fence, with coils of razor wire laid on top of the footing. "If we plow down two meters and across six, that should prevent any tunnels, as the dirt will collapse atop the tunnels. The gravel path is for anyone that wants to ride the barrier and inspect it. The razor wire and concrete atop the footings force any tunnels to the surface, it would also be electrified."

"This reminds me of the Inter-German Border," Herr Gruber said. "We would still need access through the barrier for roads and vehicles."

"Regular farm gates that close fairly snugly, so they can't get through," Charlie replied. "Another coil of razor wire to sweep, with clear plastic panels so we can see what's on the other side."

"It's ugly, and it does remind me of a prison camp," Christine said. "Are there other options?"

Charlie hesitated, "Do you remember Frank MacDonald?" he asked. "He's working with some other people to develop the irontip bushes into a barrier. I got a message from him, they're working to resolve some legal issues, which is why I didn't bring it up." He turned, "The irontip is a bush that I was thinking we could use around pastures and fields, it has some long thorns, and to cover the gap at the base, Frank's suggested another plant, called bloodvine. It smells like a fresh kill, so it attracts predators like the wabbit, it then coils around the wabbit and kills it. I don't think the wabbit's poison would affect a plant, but we have no way to test at the moment. It would definitely be preferable, both plants grow rapidly, and Frank used the irontips as shonnen barriers, so they're definitely strong. We could build gates with concrete or brick to anchor the farm gates. I would still plow the death strips, though."

He took a sip of tea, "Getting back to the wabbits, as I said, we have no economic use for them, we can't eat them, they're a pest," Charlie continued. "They also have a postmortem reflex, so they're dangerous even after they're dead. What we suggest is using a clipper on the tail." He reached down again, pulling up what looked like a branch trimmer. "The tail is the dangerous part. Once you've shot a wabbit, you use one of these, and we have extension tubes you can screw in, to reach over and cut off the tail." With a rip of Velcro® he separated the tail from the body, then re-attached it and screwed together the clipper, positioning it at the base of the tail. "These are simple enough to manufacture, a strong, spring loaded blade with a wired trigger and cocking mechanism. You can also use the end to pick up the head and body, we're thinking a bounty system."

"It won't eliminate them," Benni said from the screen.

"We'd need a species-specific poison to do that," Charlie agreed. "The wabbits are both grassland and woodland predators, but Riverside seems out of their temperature range, and they generally hibernate in winter. What we're looking to do is to keep them out of our farms and shops, because even a tiny scratch from a quill will make you sick, and if it draws blood, you're dead, so we're looking to prevent penetration of a millimeter diameter quill." He took a sip of tea, "We looked back at the middle ages body armor, protection against arrows. If we make chain mail loops small enough to stop a quill, it becomes fairly rigid, and since this is what you'd be wearing day-to-day, we want it both inexpensive and flexible. We also want airflow to keep you cool. Now, it's possible that a shopkeeper won't need this if they're certain their area is secure, but we'd like to make it available. This is what we're calling scale armor." He reached down to his bag, "A breathable cotton under-layer, on top a heavier weave material like denim, and an overlapping series of small, stamped aluminum plate. The plates are arranged like roofing shingles, sewn onto an overall. This can be overlain with a slick material like Tyvek®."

"Hmm," Christine said, playing with the sample. "Why not a tighter stitch, or rivets?"

"A tighter stitch makes the material more rigid, a looser stitch gives flexibility, and rivets drive up the cost," he replied. "Heavy thread can be repaired in the field, and costs a lot less." He picked up the sample, "The people on-line can't see it, but the top, bottom, and sides of each plate has two small holes, which are rounded as part of the production stamping. This keeps abrasion from cutting the thread, which simply goes in one hole and out the other."

"It seems kind of awkward to wear armor while you're in your house or shop," Benni said from the screen.

"This explains why we've seen stable doors on buildings and porches with raised ground floors," Charley replied. "Wabbits tunnel, but they can't climb. A stable door allows you to keep the lower half closed, while you can look out the top, and raising the ground floors allows people to go up a step or two, but is a barrier to wabbits. Should you see one, you can shoot it, we have pistol ammunition that is like a small shotgun shell, good out to five or six meters, called rat-shot."

"When you leave the house or shop, you can pull on the overalls, and have a shotgun or rifle," Benni nodded. "What about things like plowing fields, or grazing?"

"The wabbit likes to aim at the thinner skin of the belly, which is why the shonnen are pretty much immune, their hides are too thick. Wabbits are ambush hunters, so they won't have any cover in a pasture. If we plant the irontip and bloodvine bushes, like French hedgerows, and plow around the edges of a field, we can let animals graze. For the wagons, simple aluminum or ceramic plates to protect the drivers. We can make the scale armor to fit, and make the harnesses and hitches to hang a flexible curtain around the horses or hexataurs pulling the wagons." Charlie took a sip of tea. "We haven't done as much with the hexataurs as we have with the shonnen or the wabbits, but they can be voice-trained like horses, even though they aren't very bright."

"Are they intelligent, Mr. Adams?"

"No. While they use simple tools, they're omnivores, but meat is more of a treat or reward. They like jerky; it's like chewing gum to them. While the harness that they use normally binds their hands back, they can be trained to bind themselves, and associate the driver's release as 'You are now allowed to use a stick.' In addition, from notes the previous settlers left, gelding the males reduces their aggression tremendously. We're training them to operate simple latches, like we would use for the farm gates." He took a sip of tea, "The previous settlers physically mated the animals; we can use artificial insemination, tracking their genetics with breeding software and stud books." He took another sip of tea, "I apologize; that's a rather long-winded description of passive defenses against the wabbits. Active defenses are training everyone, and I do mean everyone, in shooting these nasty little buggers."

"Everyone, master, even the slaves?" T'ara asked.

"Yes. They would carry at least a pistol for use against wabbits," Charlie said.

"If you thought giving the vote to females got a reaction, master..." an awed T'ara said, "This... oh, Source! Give them a minute, please." She enlarged the screen, and they watched the arguing people on the High Street.

"Cover your ears, everyone," Charlie said; then gave a sharp whistle. "People! Can I finish?" He waited a minute, "Yes, you heard right. Think about it. They may be wearing a collar, but don't they have the right to defend themselves against a predator?"

They watched the argument take off again, and again Charlie whistled. On screen, T'ara pulled off her earphones, shaking her head, "Be glad you're not hearing this, masters." She scrubbed at her ears; then gingerly put the headphones back on, jerking them off. "Masters, I think you won't be able to complete the agenda today. They're not paying attention, they're too busy arguing."

They waited, then Herr Gruber said, "I think Fraulein T'ara is correct, I suggest we adjourn for now."

"Seconded," Charlie said, and the meeting was closed.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Thursday, July 18, 2002: 11:22 (relative)
Sector 2820, Red Dawn system:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

The warship fired a barrage of missiles at them, and Amber, whose ring-constructs tended to be simple geometric forms, deployed a 'scoop', which deflected them back to the ship. The cruiser shifted, firing its main weapon at Mattie as the missiles struck. With a thought, she generated a series of mirrors that redirected the beam; it emerged from a beam-splitter, causing massive damage in the ship's aft sections. They both landed on the ship, walking along the hull toward the ship's 'island', stopping to talk as they stood on the window of the command deck.

The commander looked on in frustration as the two Lanterns stood on the glass a few meters away, ignoring him as they talked. Their auras extended through the glass, the furry one waved a paw as she said (Truly this one regrets summoning you from your male's side.) As she spoke, a large Lantern logo carved itself into the white coating of his hull, while the smaller female shook her head, replying "Don't worry about it," as she idly drew an oval around the symbol on his hull. She added, "Go see your clan-mothers, I'll deal with the pirates and meet you shortly." The furry one flew off, while the female turned to regard the commander. "Open the personnel hatch, please."

He turned, "Go ahead, open the hatch for her," he ordered.

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

"Hello, commander," she said as she was escorted into the command deck. She was a small being with black hair in a complex weave, with two patches of white hair over her ears. "Please put me on a common link to the other ships." He waved, and it was done. "Now then, you're going to transfer all your wounded and all the slaves to the colony ship, and all free personnel will go to a small island off the eastern-most continent. Map, please," she asked, and indicated which one. "For now, you're denied space capability, but bring a radio capable of reaching any ships your sponsors might send. Local law gives the decision on what to do with you to the local clan-mothers. Leave the three ships in orbit linked with the boarding tubes and tractors, and you can bring light personal arms to deal with the hostile local wildlife." She smiled at him, "I'm claiming your slaves; so I do hope they're in good condition. Any questions?"

"Our dead?" he asked.

"Give them a proper burial, of course. I'll be searching the ship myself, so I'll help get anyone out of damaged compartments and send them over to the colony ship. What were you looking to get out of this planet?"

"Timber and sport-hunting for the high-end market," he said sourly. "Probably sell some animals to private collectors and planetary zoos. Who knew the tree-dwelling primitives had a Lantern?"

"Perhaps your sponsors should have done better research," she replied. "I'll speak to you later."

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

She flew escort to the collection of shuttles and other small craft that carried the pirate crews of the three ships to the island. After they grounded, her Ring removed the drive coils from the heavy cargo shuttle while the hundred or so pirates disembarked.

"Here's the situation," she told the pirates who stood in the sand outside their small craft. "You attacked the locals, Amber and I offered you a chance to surrender. Two of your ships did, one decided to put up a fight."

"And lost," one pirate replied. "By the Source, how were we to know a bunch of tree-dwelling barbarians had a frakkin' Lantern?"

"Maybe by asking politely to do business instead of kicking the door in?" Mattie replied, 'sitting' in mid-air. "Amber is meeting with her clan-mothers now to decide what to do with you. For now, I'm going to build you some quick defenses to protect you against the wildlife." She gestured at three of the local 'raptors' which lay decapitated on the sand. "If you had done your research, you'd know that they come in much larger sizes."

There was a loud, high-pitched scream from the jungle, and Mattie clapped her hands. "Strip the one shuttle of survival gear, leave the radios and beacons intact so your sponsors can find you here. The other small craft return to their ships."

"Noooo!" one pirate screamed, charging at her with a knife. "You're going to kill us all!" With a thought, he was flipped, thudding to the sand. "That means I trust you lot even less," Mattie told the pirates.

"Why don't you go ahead and collar us now?" one blue-haired female pirate asked.

"I don't sell people like a filthy slaver," she said. "You want me to build your fort, you'll do what I say."

"Why do you say that about slavers?" another pirate asked. "It's a perfectly respectable profession."

"When the courts get pirates and smugglers they enhance them," the blue-haired female said. "Better security, and they sell for a higher price. Is that what you're going to do with us?" She regarded the floating Lantern.

"Not my decision, but the clan-mothers. They usually deal with their law-breakers by breaking their climbing claws and putting them on the ground. I want to see your engineers." The blue-haired female pirate snorted and went off to fetch them, while others watched several massive trees float out of the forest, and blades of green light started to trim and shape them.

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

"That should do for now, but I'm not a civil engineer," Mattie said.

"Neither are we," one of the pirate engineers said. "Still, I can't think of anything else without modern weapons."

"Which we're not going to get," another said. "We'll find out. Look!" A mid-size monster had come out of the jungle and had been forced by a series of sharpened stakes to confront one of a series of deep, wood-lined pits dug into the beginnings of the sandbar that connected the island to the mainland. Along with the thirty-meter monster was a pack of a dozen or so two-meter 'raptors', like the three that had originally been on the island, and that were now being roasted behind them. A louder roar sounded behind the mid-size beast. It panicked and ran toward the far-right pit, slipping and falling into it with a squeal, which turned into a shriek of agony.

"What's in the pits?"

"Sharpened vertical stakes, called punji sticks in the bottom, more in the sides pointing downward so they can't climb out," Mattie replied.

"Nasty," an engineer said with a shudder. "Why not one big pit, though?"

"The pits serve as a filter to catch the big monsters, like that one," she replied, as a fifty-meter monster emerged and roared. It put its head down and charged, and a counterweighted trip-bar sprang out of the sand, the monster sliding headfirst into the outer row's center pit. While the trip reset, the monster roared its rage, head and neck trapped in the pit, lying on the sand. The smaller raptors, not passing up a free meal, attacked, the monster roaring and trying to get up. It lacked sufficient leverage, and several raptors leaped on the legs, biting through the tendons. As they watched from the tower of the wooden fort, she added, "Any of the smaller ones that make it past the pits won't get past the wall, and you have firing slits you can use to shoot them."

"And that's only the first line of defenses," one of the engineers said. "We've got this fort here."

"For now," she replied. "Anything you want me to tell the clan-mothers in your defense? You want to elect someone to speak for you?"

The pirates looked at each other, "Please don't Enhance us?"

"Not my call," she replied. "You may want to decide who wants to risk a collar, and who wants to wait out any possible rescue attempt from your sponsors. You know them better than I do. Those who stay might want to get started on the gardens, you can't live on just meat." She waited a minute more, then shrugged and lifted off.

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

Mattie removed her video camera from the little dimensional pocket she used, and flew generally toward Amber's Ring location along a broad river, slowly capturing the scenery and recording the wildlife, swerving once as a water-monster tried to eat her. She turned, flying up a secondary river, heading toward the cliff and surrounding trees that the small settlement of Wookies fought to maintain against the monsters they lived among. A final, snapping attack of a large carnivore, and she stowed the camera, making herself presentable.

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

"... So far, the largest problems for the colony have been the occasional pirate, the greedy locals, and dealing with freeing the slaves," Mattie said, once again 'sitting' cross-legged in midair. Gesturing to the Ring-created model of Windfall, "The single continent is heavily forested, although the trees are not as high as they are here. There are some local predators, my information is slightly out-of-date, though."

(We would have our own fields, our own property?) one of the clan-mothers asked.

"You may, although I would hope that you would join us in a larger community," she replied. "While we have orbital settlements in the home system, this is our first off-planet colony. To guard against crop problems, we are placing several smaller research locations, sponsored by schools on the homeworld. They will determine if there are any hazards in the local soils or water that would affect our crops and farm animals." She gestured, "You are welcome to share in those efforts, or to create a separate site of your own. If we share, however, it lessens the risk for both of us."

(Truth, this is. What else?)

"As I've said, we do not believe in the buying and selling of sentient beings. We have started a rescue and resettlement program for slaves, to allow them to think outside their collars, to stand and be free again. Most of those are females, hotel slaves, they are killed when they are at a certain age, fed live to beasts." (She gestured out of the meeting-hole, where the roars could be heard.) "They are bound, helpless, and thrown as food for captive beasts." The clan-mothers reacted in shock, and Mattie continued, "We buy them on the pretext that they will be sacrificed to the Source, instead, and train them to think for themselves. They are not killed."

(Even when we sentence one to the ground, they are not bound, they may run and hide as they can,) one clan-mother said in disgust. (To condemn a being only on the basis of age, and then to hobble them is not the action of a civilized being. We will wish to see, to speak to these females, but your Ring-sister speaks well of your people.) She made the circle of the Source herself. (To speak falsely is a step back along the Source's path. The Source demands honesty, it is truth, but to spare the life of an innocent, and to assist them are both steps forward along the path. You commit a small sin in the goal of a greater good; it is true.)

"When we reach there, you may speak to whomever you wish," Mattie said. She accepted the skin of wine, taking a pull, and passing it on, "This brings up another point regarding the pirates. Several have asked about submitting as slaves, they fear for their lives on this planet." There was some amused hooting, she smiled and continued. "While this is your system and your laws prevail, I am ethically opposed to buying and selling intelligent beings. While I have built temporary defenses until their sponsor sends a rescue ship, they are just that, temporary." There was more hooting, she continued, "These pirates are career criminals, they believe their chances of survival better to wear your collar than to be eaten."

(Wiser, they are), a clan mother said. (What uses have we with slaves? They gave honorable surrender; we must therefore protect them, criminals though they be. What plans have you?)

"As I said, we are building an offworld colony, the ship they planned to use to transport you as slaves would therefore be useful. It would need to be refit to carry passengers instead of slaves, but that was its original design. The pirates simply converted the passenger quarters to slave cells; we can convert them back. They are livable, if not comfortable until then." The clan mothers rocked and hooted in agreement, passing a wineskin around again. "The second ship is a warship, a destroyer-class ship. This would also be useful protection against other groups of pirates until we can join a convoy. I would strip the damaged ship of what we can, leaving it in orbit as a warning. I saw you have some orbital works..."

(Not as many,) Amber hooted. (The pirates destroyed some, they did. That is when you arrived.)

"Hmm," Mattie said, accepting the wineskin again. She took a shot and passed it to the clan-mother to her left. "I propose this," she suggested. "You accept those pirates that wish to become slaves with us, on probation. We will collar them, not as slaves, but as prisoners, with only the tracking and pain functions enabled in their collars. Their behavior will earn their destiny. Should they prove honorable, they earn a new life, freedom and citizenship; otherwise they stay in a collar."

(They would take several steps back along the path of the Source,) one clan-mother hooted. (They would need to retrace their path upward along the spiral. Where would this be done?)

"We can do this on our colony world, or a planet we would stop by," she replied. "I have a friend who was looking into a trade port on another world, P'wheel, a class ten trading world. I was planning to stop there to see her. What about the ships?"

(You claim the existing slaves to assist them, and the colony ship would be useful to you,) a clan-mother said. (We will claim those pirates who wish to come with us, as our captives, not slaves. We would also claim the warship, even though we know not how to work it. It is necessary for the defense of our system.)

"Our colony world also requires a security guarantee," Mattie said. "Why not this? We will assist in crewing the warship, with one of your spacers in command, and one of ours as her first officer. The colony world has one light cruiser, a more powerful ship, which is in disrepair. We were planning to take it to our homeworld, take it apart and study it, then build and improve the design with new ships."

(How many new ships?)

"If you participate in our empire, enough to protect your system, your planet and your trade. You do not have to live on the ground; you can establish your people here in orbit. The pirates saw profit in your forests for the high-end, wealthy market, as well as capturing your beasts for private display in zoos. If it is managed correctly, I do not see any reason why you cannot profit from the market, which would help to pay for those ships." She took another slug of the passing wineskin, "The only people on the ground would be the ones harvesting the trees and beasts. Should you choose this path, we can stop at Mangione, a class four world, where you may examine that market."

(Truth, this is,) a clan-mother said. There was some hooting, one clan-mother asked, (What would you charge us to colonize this planet? We know this will cost money.)

"Only what you agree to," Mattie said. "Knowledge is a source of payment, as well. As I said, the continent is heavily forested; you could get by as you are now, living in the trees. I would suggest at least one healer come, we are trying to learn from each other, it would be proper for your healer to be able to treat our people, and for ours to treat your people. Aside from that, you would need defenses against predators, some are small, and hunt from the ground with poison quills. That would be a concern for tending fields of grain, though. However, if you share in our labors, you would share in the benefits. We seek to grow the planet's economy, both through inter-site trade, in orbit and the asteroid belts, and to the wider galaxy."

(Asteroid belts?)

"The colony world has two of them, the inner one large and broad. There is no reason you cannot contribute to orbital works, they need to be built as well, both there, and here in this system." She tented her fingers, resting her chin on them. "There would be three species, ours, yours, and the rescued hotel-girl slaves."

(Along with any other slaves that we pick up,) Amber hooted. (We would need translation implants, but those are not costly.)

"I do have some funds available through Lantern Bank, should you need more than you have available," Mattie said. "This we can arrange, to allow you to build needed funds in your accounts. I owe my Ring-sister a debt, it would be an honor to assist." She took a final slug from the wineskin, "I assume you will retain ownership of this planet. Should you choose to, it gives you a valuable resource."

The clan-mothers looked at each other, (Truth, this is. Allow us privacy for our decision.)

(It is we who owe the debt, Ring-sister. We shall go and look on the others, and return,) Amber said.

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

"You are not allowed space capability," Mattie told the hundred or so pirates who stood around the shuttle.

One wrenched away from the others, "I was not permitted to lift," he said. "I do not wish to stay, I do not think our sponsors will come for us. I will cross my wrists," he added, to the derisive calls of the others. He turned, "Better to live a slave than to starve here," he shouted; then dropped to his knees.

(Who else?) Amber called. (Who else will wear our collar? We do not trust you.)

There was a fight that broke out, with screaming and shouting, several broke out of the group. "We will, and there are others, bound in camp, that would cross their wrists," a scarred, tattooed female said. "Let these fools die slowly, I want to live, even in a collar."

"Show me where they are," Mattie said grimly.

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

Mattie regarded the forty or so prisoners, sitting in the shuttle's seats, hands on their heads. "You will be the locals' prisoners, not slaves," she said. "They have no use for slaves, and I do not buy and sell intelligent beings. You will be collared, but those will only have the location tracking and pain circuits for slave barriers. Your behavior on parole will determine your fate, if you are well-behaved, you may earn your freedom." She gestured to the open shuttle hatch, "If that's not agreeable, there's the hatch."

"We would not be slaves, you are not selling us, even though some of us have bounties on our heads," one pirate said warily. "What's the trick?"

"No trick," she replied. "We don't believe in taking or trading slaves. We would of course keep you secure, but you can earn an honorable name."

"You are not gelding the males, changing them to females?" one skinny fellow said.

"No, I've never understood that," Mattie said. "It doesn't make financial sense to me, you would think males would sell for more, due to scarcity," she said, sitting cross-legged in mid-air.

"You would think so," the skinny pirate agreed. "However, I would not sell as a stud slave, so I would be gelded (he shuddered), and other factors being equal between myself and a female, she would sell for more." He shrugged. "Males are considered more of a threat than females, I assume. I would still run us all through a med-tank, to make certain we are healthy, remove distinguishing tattoos, and if necessary, change the males."

"Females are less of a threat?" the blue haired female snorted. "Females are more decorative, I think." She turned to Mattie, "I'm in, although I think most males that are kept intact are for breeding or other reasons. Those that are usually are held because they are valuable business or political hostages, and none of our males qualify. All other factors being equal, a female will sell better than a male for anything other than heavy labor on farms or in mines."

"Why are you giving me this information?" Mattie asked.

"Self-interest," the skinny pirate said. "While I do not look forward to wearing a collar or being female, it is survivable, this planet is not. Even if you are lying to us, and will sell us as slaves, giving you this information means the higher prices we fetch, the more money you make, and for us, wealthier owners; the better odds of good treatment."

The blue-haired female asked, "Where are we going, mistress? I am, or was, astrogator."

"P'wheel or Mangione, I don't know which is closer."

"P'wheel, mistress," the astrogator replied. "I would wait to sell us until Mangione, though." She nodded to her tattooed arms, "I also assume you are lying to us in order to increase your security," she said. "That is perfectly understandable. You may wish to sell us to the courts, instead of the open market. Some of us have bounties on our heads, you will increase your profits. I only ask for my life."

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

"They belong to the local clan-mothers," Mattie told the senior recovered slave, once a third officer on a liner. "They are prisoners, treat them professionally, keep them secure, and stripped, but no abuse."

"That will be the most difficult part, mistress, to forgo giving some pain back," the blue-skinned woman said, regarding the young, dark-haired female Lantern that had rescued them. She shook back her white-blonde hair, her collar lights glowing yellow. "We have only about thirty slaves for both ships."

"We need both ships, though," her new mistress said. "Keep stripping the damaged ship, what we don't need we can sell. Do some temporary promotions, and if any slaves are even remotely qualified..."

"I shall take what I can, mistress."

"Good. I need to meet with the clan-mothers. Give the crews some practice in orbital maneuvering, plotting courses, that kind of thing."

"Yes, mistress. Destination?"

"P'wheel then Tosul by way of Mangione." She wiggled her hand, showing the Ring, "I don't usually travel in convoy, but we can join one at either planet. I have a colony between Mangione and Tosul, we can resettle any slaves there. Don't let that out, though."

"Discipline problems, I know," the officer said. "We'll handle it, mistress."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Friday, July 19, 2002: 00:38 (GMT) (Seconday, 24 Quintus, 162: 24:25)
Windfall, Riverside, Governor's complex, Plans office:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Working late, master?" a soft voice asked, and Charlie looked up. "No, just replying to my girlfriend's letter, T'asi." He stretched and twisted, bones crackling, "Would you like me to walk you back? I don't think I've mentioned how much I value what you do."

"Perhaps you'll buy me, then," she said, and smiled gently. He saved and locked the laptop, and stood up, twisting again. "You know, you don't have to cross your wrists to us, it seems like..." he paused, "... avoiding the problem, somehow."

She made the circle of the Source with her left hand, "Master, my soul has been blackened by what I have done. I must start again, retrace my steps on the Source's spiral, which means I must go down before I come up again." He opened the door, flicking off the lights and locking the door as she cuffed herself, kneeling and waiting for him in the corridor, "By serving a master as a slave does, I start fresh, as a newborn, free of the crimes of T'asi N'eo. She no longer exists, only the slave. Were I to be bought by even the cruelest master, I would do so, as T'asi N'eo does not deserve to exist, master." T'asi shook back her hair. "Personally, master, this is the preferable of the two options to cleanse my path. I would prefer not to take my own life, but if I am denied the chance to cross my wrists, that would remain my only option."

"And the freedom of the slave who was once T'asi N'eo?" he asked.

She shook back her hair again, "When my soul and the Source are in the same location, master, then I will be free. It may be a day, a month, or years, but it will come." She calmly looked at him, "Master, you Terrans are so interesting, I find myself hoping I might be allowed to cross my wrists to you." She stepped aside, allowing him to precede her across a footbridge, as he asked, "What about those of the Guard who do not wish to cross their wrists?"

"That is between themselves and the Source, master. My only qualification is to protect my family, by becoming only a nameless slave, this will happen. I will miss them, but I have written them, they understand." She stopped at the prison guard post, "Thank you, master, for walking me back." She turned as a guard frisked her, "Go have last-meal, master, before it is gone, and I will see you first light. Pleasant evening, master," and she pushed through the rotating steel barrier.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Friday, July 19, 2002: 11:25 (GMT) (Thirday, 25 Quintus, 162: 11:03)
Windfall, High Town, Finance Minister's residence, master suite:

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

Arthur groaned and rolled over, blinking at the faint sunlight through the heavy blinds. Looking up, he saw an ornate ceiling, and he sat up, yawning as memory came back. 'Daala's home. Must be the master bedroom,' he thought. 'Mine now, but for how long?' and threw back the covers.

Whoever had put him to bed had dressed him in what he assumed was Daala's nightwear, a long white tunic and some sort of wrap around his waist, and he padded over the fancy wood flooring towards what he assumed was the bathroom. He found it behind the second door, the first leading to a complex closet. In it, he found his travel case, and shaved, showered and brushed his teeth. As he left, he saw Miika setting out his clothes. He knelt, "Good day, master. I hope you are feeling well. I apologize for not being present to bathe you."

Arthur waved that off, "I've been doing that for a long time, now. What's been happening?"

"I have called Mistress Governor Sullivan, explaining that you were resting and healing, and would contact her when it pleased you." He turned as the First Girl came in with a tea tray, nodding as she placed it on a table. She poured him a cup; then knelt besides Miika, "Master will need to mollify his tea and other foods, as we do not do so without specific instructions."

Looking over the assortment of additives, Arthur added a few drops of the native honey, "Why not?"

"That would be considered an attempt to poison master's food," she said. "It would be the same as if I were to strike master, an attack, and would lead to this slave's public, terminal discipline," she said with a shudder. "We have arranged to have master's clothing sent over, and master's business arrangements are waiting in the office for master's pleasure."

"Hold on, I don't have any business," he objected.

Miika cleared his throat, "Master, I am your First Slave, and am responsible for you. I have taken it upon myself to look into master's business arrangements, and the Ministry." He continued, "Master directly owns only this slave, it is truth. However, Mistress Lady Lantern won by fair and honorable public combat from former master Daala his lands, his properties, and his titles. She is Liege Lady for former clan Daala and its properties, now clan Lantern and her properties. In addition, Mistress Lady Lantern won by fair and honorable public combat former master Daala's position as Finance Minister and Grand Councilor, and may thus do as she wishes."

"However, Mattie's not here," Arthur said, sipping his tea.

"This is truth, master," Miika said. "However, I called the Ministry of Justice, and they have told me, and sent appropriate documents, that when Mistress Lady Lantern asked you to 'take care of things for me', and I quote her public statement, that gave you her leave to act in her stead, answerable only to her."

"Therefore, master, we are your slaves in Mistress Lady Lantern's name," the First Girl said. "You may do with us as if we were your property, buying, selling, punishing or whatever pleases you."

"Damn it, I thought I said I didn't want to be called 'Master', I don't like owning people," Arthur said, irritated. "It's not like I'm going to, I don't know, tell Miika to kill or torture you."

"Torture is for free persons, master. We are slaves, and are thus disciplined," Miika said, as the First Girl cuffed herself. "Did you have a preference for her death, or a simple neck-breaking?" he asked as he gripped her head.

"I don't want her killed!" he exclaimed. He motioned the First Girl to her feet and popped open her cuffs, freeing her hands again.

"As you wish, master," Miika said. "There is a slave that is awaiting your discipline, but there are far more important decisions for you to make. Slaves wait upon your pleasure, master, but the Ministry awaits your command, and appropriate documents, both on master's computer and in print, await your decision."

"I'll make the decision on what's important. Who is waiting for discipline?"

"The slave you have named C'ari, master," the First Girl replied. "She confessed to speaking sharply to you, and displeasure at her collar, and has been bound awaiting your discipline."

"Wait, that was... I was talking to her... what day is it? How long ago?"

"This is Thirday, master, the twenty-fifth of Quintus. Master has been sleeping off his injuries since late on the twenty-third, a day and part."

"You've let me sleep for over thirty hours? Damnit, what's been going on?"

"Master was injured, and master's bodyguards agreed that sleep was beneficial." Miika made a dismissive motion, "The slave C'ari can wait for her discipline, master. Far more important is master's business, I have done what I can with master's colleagues, but master must take control of the Ministry." He took a deep breath, "I hope master is not displeased, but to protect master's interests and property, I ordered the Ministry closed in his name." He leaned forward, "Master, I must stress, the slave C'ari can wait, she is slave. You must take the Ministry, this slave once worked there, for former minister Daala."

Arthur regarded Miika, "I don't like this, Miika. Where is the girl?"

"The slave C'ari, master?" the First Girl asked. "She waits in your office, but master, I agree, you must seize control of the Ministry. Do not waste your time with her, it is already too risky to have waited this long, closing the Ministry was necessary. Others have tried to seize control from master's colleagues in other Ministries, the court ruling giving Mistress Lady Lantern will only last so long politically, especially with her not present to enforce it. Master, I repeat, you must, must, have the Finance Ministry, you may bother with trifles like your slaves' discipline in your idle times, they will wait. There has been news that has caused widespread... agitation, and you must destroy yours, and the Empire's enemies first."

"I will bother with whatever 'trifles' I wish," Arthur said forcefully, putting down the teacup. He strode into the office; then shouted, "Miika!"

The First Slave looked at the First Girl, they both rushed in, as one of the German troopers arrived. Arthur pointed where the redheaded slave hung by her wrists, "Are you telling me that she has spent thirty or forty hours hanging there? Get her down, NOW."

Despite his rejection of the term, the first Girl knew an angry master when she heard one. "Yes, master," the First Girl squeaked, rushing to obey. Arthur turned to the trooper, "Why wasn't this handled? Where is your Feldwebel?"

I will call him, Herr Minister," the trooper said. He stepped aside as C'ari was being un-hooded, the over-hood being folded, and moved to the girl. "C'ari, who did this to you?" She looked up at him, the gag still on her mouth, and tapped her chest. "You did?" She whimpered once, then knelt, her forehead to the ground, and cuffed herself. "C'ari, what did you tell me about your collar?" She whimpered in terror, and tried to push herself into the floor. Arthur sighed, and pulled her head up. "C'ari, I meant what I said about that being a private conversation, and we are trying to get you to think free." She whimpered in fear, and he pulled her to her feet, passing her to the trooper. "Make sure she gets medical attention." He regarded Miika with a baleful eye, "This isn't finished yet, Miika, nor with you," he told the First Girl, who swallowed hard. "She had spark, and now she's afraid of her own shadow." His eyes were hard, "What was she told while I was asleep?"

"Master, we... we heard that we were to be sold, the Ministries would be consolidated, and master, we do not wish to be," the First Girl said. "We are only slaves, you may do what you wish, but master, please..." she begged, "Do not sell us!"

"This is the first I've heard of it," Arthur said. "Where did you hear this?"

"Ministry of Information slaves, master," Miika said. "They have the accurate information, as they have the ear of the Council."

"I see. I will confirm or deny this myself, and then inform you." He strode to the only entrance to the suite, "Feldwebel, there was a girl suspended in that office for well over a day. Why was she not taken down when you found out about it?"

"Herr Minister," the German sergeant said, bracing to attention. "We were informed the girl was awaiting your attention, she was watered and had a urinal bottle, and that it was SOP."

"And it did not occur to you, on your own authority, to take her down and seek medical attention for her?"

"Herr Minister, we were informed that the girl was in need of discipline, you were attending to the matter, but had been called away in the interim."

"I was asleep, and who informed you of this?"

"Your majordomo, Herr Minister, the First Slave," the nervous sergeant said.

"I will discuss this with Herr Gruber, Feldwebel," Arthur said. "For now, resume your post, please." He waited until the door clicked shut, then in a low voice, "Miika? You have over-reached yourself, and lied. While I know we haven't known each other long, did our conversation mean nothing to you? Leaving a girl suspended for that long may have been standard procedure for Daala, but not for me. If you believed she was in need of discipline, you could have confined her to a cell and brought the matter up with me later. You are not Minister, nor have I given you any sort of power to act in my name. I am extremely unhappy with you. You are no longer First Slave, Miika," and he nodded to the First Girl. "She is now First Slave as well as First Girl, you will report to her, and I hope that this is a lesson for both of you."

"Yes, master," both slaves said, terrified.

"Now then, what about the Ministry?"

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

Arthur moved to the massive desk where Miika waited. "Master, your first move you may do from here. The computer slaves have delayed as much as possible your enemies' moves, but you must take control. They have given you broad powers, greater than former minister Daala. These sheets are what you must do, starting with your login. Your temporary password is waterbringer."

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

"That is all we may do from here, master," Miika said when Arthur finished the list. "Now, master, we must bathe and dress you as a proper Minister, we are only part-way through the list."

"The water is hot, master, and your clothing is laid out," the First Girl said, entering the office. "Please shave again, master."

"While I'm doing that, Miika, I'm still unhappy with you. Confine yourself in a cell near Daala on the lowest level." The unhappy slave left, and Arthur regarded the kneeling First Girl, "He is not to be tortured or disciplined. When you go take care of him remind him of his plan with Daala, and how he can regain some points with me." He motioned her to stand, "You seem awfully anxious to have me as Minister," he said.

"Master, I may be honest with you?" Arthur nodded, "There are several reasons, master. Firstly, you said we might earn our freedom, this is one way for us to do so."

"Now why didn't you remember that with C'ari?" Arthur asked, moving toward the bath, and motioning for her to follow. "Please continue, and there's no need for you to kneel. Stand or sit, as you will."

"Yes, master," she said as she bustled about. "Secondly, master, we are not stupid, even if we are slaves. Assisting you Terrans will, at a minimum, make our lives easier, even if we never gain our freedom. Third, being slave of a Minister is far preferable to being slave of a baker or shoe-maker." She started to kneel, then caught his glance, and stood, nervously, her hands behind her. "A day ago, master, while you slept, there were public broadcasts of a meeting that have stirred up great discussion," she said. "Firstly, there was the news that you planned to allow free females the vote."

"Yes," he said over the noise of the shower. "On the homeworld, convicted criminals lose the right to vote, but others, male and female have that right." The fog from the shower was causing her thin slave smock to stick to her skin; there was a light sheen of perspiration on her forehead. "I won't inflict my singing on you, count yourself lucky," he said, he seemed to be in a better mood.

"And those females would be allowed to own property, master?"

"Yes, but property ownership would not be a requirement to hold the vote," he said. The water shut off, and she moved to hand him a towel. "Turn around please, I'm a bit modest." She smiled to herself, "Yes, master," and resumed cleaning, drying the mirrors, he didn't realize that she could get a nice view of her master. He continued, his words slightly muffled, "A property restriction means that only those with a certain amount of property can vote, and denies everyone else the vote. What we haven't figured out yet is how to handle the forty-five thousand or so girls like you in common collars. Do we give you the vote while you're slaves, or free you temporarily, or what?"

"Master?" She goggled at him. "Giving the vote to slaves?"

"Judicial slaves will have their cases reviewed to see if the criminal charges are legitimate. Someone like C'ari would probably have all charges against her dismissed, moving her to a common collar. Now, on voting day, Landing Day, do you just go as you are to vote, or do we free you temporarily? Either way, it would be a secret ballot, protected by law." He tried to figure out the underclothes, and she moved to help him with the wrappings.

"A secret ballot?" she asked.

"Let's say there's a proposal to tax beer," he said, as she helped him pull a shirt on. He ran his fingers through his hair, "One side puts forth the arguments for, the other side against." He pulled on the over-pants, "On election day, you, having heard both sides go and vote. You know that I prefer it, but you yourself think it's a bad idea, and don't give me the 'I'm a slave...' bit. You yourself said you're not stupid."

"So I would vote the way my master wishes," she said, fetching and holding his over-robes.

"NO! You would vote the way YOU think is best, and you would be protected by law from being forced to vote a particular way, or to tell how you voted." He shrugged his shoulders, settling the robes. "In this case, you would vote against the plan, while I would vote for it, and we see who wins." He turned to regard her, "If I want your vote, I have to convince you that it's the best way."

"We could... vote to end... slavery, master..." she said, awestruck.

"Yes, you could, but you also have to deal with the aftereffects." He held up a finger, "What do you do with your criminals?" A second finger, "Who feeds all those slaves? Where do they shelter at night? What about your former owners? They've invested quite a bit of money in you, what about that?"

Arthur moved into the office as she moved to pack up his case. She clutched it, "I had not thought of those things, master."

"Primarily why we haven't," her master said. "The people at Port Lincoln are working on that, letting the girls there think outside their collar, and learn a skill that they can get paid for." He regarded her, "Are you ready for that? Can you walk out the door and find a job as a free female? You answer me that, honestly, and I'll free you, right now."

"I... no, master, I cannot."

He reached forward to tip up her chin to look in her eyes, "When you can, please let me know. For now, let's take the Ministry."

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

"Faaqr, you are under arrest for bribery and corruption," Arthur told the senior bureaucrat, who stood before him. "You will be held until trial at the Ministry of Justice, where you can consult with your attorney. If you do not have an attorney, one will be provided." He closed the file folder, "Count yourself lucky that we are operating under the old rules, the new ones give a death penalty for these charges. Take him out of here," he told the guard, and First handed him another folder from the 'yellow' list. He studied it as the prisoner was hustled out, "Biindam, clan Kraana is next."

Looking up as the prisoner was hustled in, "Biindam, you have been arrested and are charged with using your office for personal gain. This is in violation of existing statutes for corruption."

"Everyone did it!" the dark-skinned native shot back. "Daala and all the rest of the Elders! Why shouldn't I?"

"If Daala jumped off a cliff, would you?" Arthur asked. "We are charging you under the existing statutes, not under the new, revised ones, where corruption will give a death sentence." The prisoner paled, Arthur continued, "You will be held at the Ministry of Justice, where you can hire and consult with an attorney, a speaker-at-law in your defense. If you cannot afford one, a speaker-at-law will be provided." He regarded the prisoner, who was silent. Jerking his head, he said, "Take him out." He sighed, then muttered, "I wish I'd watched more cop shows when I had the chance," as he watched Biindam be escorted from the impromptu hearing room.

First waited until he left, then offered another folder, "This one is red-list, master. Former master Daala had capital charges arranged, but not filed. Riissa, clan Paajab, who was former master Daala's preferred killer."

"You've read the file, then," and she nodded. "I would greet him when he visited former master Daala, master. He does not tread the path of the Source (she made the Source's circle), he does not have a soul." Arthur sighed and looked in the file.

"Thank you, fraulein," one of the German bodyguards said. He raised an eyebrow, Arthur sighed and nodded. A non-descript small man was brought in, heavily bound, with empty eyes.

"Riissa, clan Paajab," Arthur said to the prisoner, "You are charged with murder and kidnapping for hire, enslavement without process of law, buying and selling of slaves without license, and operating an unlicensed spacecraft. The first two, murder and kidnapping for hire, carry a death penalty, the others carry the penalty of enslavement. You will be held until trial..."

"Trial? Where is Daala?"

"Former Minister Daala wagered and lost his position, I am now Finance Minister and Grand Councilor," Arthur replied coldly. "I would suggest you cooperate with the Justice Ministry, Riissa. As I was saying, you will be held until trial, you will have the opportunity to hire defense counsel, a speaker-at-law. Should you not be able to afford one, one will be provided for you."

"You Terrans have taken over," Riissa said, straightening up. "I don't have a problem with that, I can work for anyone. What kind of deal can I get?"

"We follow the law when we do our killing. Any deals would be negotiated with the Ministry of Justice," Arthur said coldly. "Any other questions?" He waited a minute; then jerked his head. He waited until the door clicked closed, then put his head down, "My god, his eyes were empty. He is a soulless bastard. I'm glad I don't have to try him."

"I am also, master," First said, and shivered. Arthur scrubbed his face, then eyed her, "Have you thought any about a name? 'First' is a title, not a name, and the reason I named C'ari that was she reminded me of a friend." He sighed, "What's next?"

"The soulless one was the last, master," she said, packing up his case. "I would suggest walking about the Ministry, to know people, and I have some ideas for a name, but nothing sounds... well, me. Does that make any sense, master?"

"Perfect sense," he told the older woman. He sat back and regarded her, "You're what, twenty five or so?

"Thank you, master," she said with a smile. "Twenty-nine standards, I was bought by former master Daala seventeen years ago."

He put his palms on the small table, and stood. "If I may ask, did you have anyone in particular, a mate, someone you're close to?"

"I am a bred WorkForce slave, master, so there is none in the sense of a legal mate, as you and Mistress Lady Lantern are." She clutched the case to her chest, "However, there is a Council Guard that treated me well, we would often speak, she hoped to buy me one day from former master Daala."

"I see. Have you written to her? There are quite a few Blacks who want to cross their wrists to us, to cleanse their path to the Source." He moved to the door, holding it open, but she hung back. "That... that might be pleasant, master, to wear the same owner's collar. Would you be willing to buy her?"

She gestured for him to precede her, and he turned. "I'd rather not buy anyone, and she would belong to Governor Sullivan, in order to keep her from being abused. Why do you assume you would stay a slave? Have you thought about your own freedom?"

"My own... master, that's been a fantasy since I was first collared. I shall have to think long and hard on this, and tonight, if master allows, I will write T'ela and... master?"

"Sorry. I have a sister named Teela, one of the last Blacks we captured was named T'ela. Write your letter to her, I'll see that she gets it."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Sunday, July 21, 2002: 15:55 (GMT -5)
Terra, MIT housing, barbecue area:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Anne," Chantal asked, "Do you have those gravity equations? I want to form a gravity lens."

Shaking her head, Anne Bundy asked, "What dids't thou say? 'Twas off with the pixies."

"Gravity equations," Chantal repeated. "I want to try designing a laser using them as the resonator chamber. How reflective are the gravity lenses?"

"'Twould depend on the circuit, and would'st thou be using a fresnel-type lens for the output mirror? I hath a reference book here..." She dug through her bag while Kat asked, "What would you use the laser for?"

"I was thinking antimissile defenses on the warships the Guard will be building," Chantal replied, and winked. "Job hunting, y'know."

"Thou art seeking employment?" Anne asked, looking up from her bag. "If thou wishes to live in London, thou might work with me. 'Tis an expensive town," she warned, adding, "We have a weapons section, I hath taken thy suggestion o' the other day, and used it for a missile pod." She eyed the FBI and MI-6 agents, "Thou must be aware that I might have used a privacy spell. If thou needs to listen to our conversation, there will be a price."

"What price?" Agent Perkins of the FBI said.

"Thou wilt exert thy influence to hurry along the documents." She glanced at Chantal, "Hath thou a passport?" The blonde shook her head, and the 'Six' bloke said, "She would need an 'Intent to hire' before we can issue a working visa."

"That doth not be a problem, but I will'st need the same from thee." The 'Six' bloke nodded, Anne turned, "Karen?" Her older/younger sister held up a finger, chewing on her upper lip and muttering "... forty-two." She threw down her pencil, massaging her temples and asked, "What? I hate calculus."

"Calculus doth be simple," her sister said. "Prithee, I wish a document from thee, I wish to hire yon Chantal to work with me."

"Intent to hire? Not a worry, when do you graduate?"

"This is my last term, it finishes in September," the blonde prankster replied. "Um, what about an apartment?"

"One of the programmers I believe is looking for a flatmate," Karen replied. "I'll email her and ask if she's interested. May I pass on your email, you two can then discuss terms and conditions. She graduated from Cambridge, by the by. Her name's Liz Sterling."

Anne turned and looked at the two agents, who both nodded. "The problem we doth be having is in production of the warhead. Targeting relies on the subspace sensor grid; the pods themselves are a simple hexagonal framework with a small, sub critical Brayton-cycle generator. My liege Lady hath said we shall not use nuclear fission or fusion warheads; this doth leave us with antimatter or quark designs. Antimatter doth be exceptionally sensitive to contaminants and handling, but 'tis easier to produce in quantity, 'twi' a lower yield. Quark explosives are more powerful, but also more difficult to produce..."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Tuesday, July 23, 2002: 15:55 (relative)
P'wheel, orbit:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Good day, gentlebeing," Mattie said to the face on the comm screen. "I wanted to see if a friend's ship was in, the Ben Nevis, registered to Greywolf out of the Terran Empire. If so, I'd like a matching orbit, please."

"Passing orbital parameters," he snapped and disconnected.

Mattie turned to her 'Captain', "Pleasant fellow, isn't he?"

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

"Mattie!" Sprink said on the comm. "What are you doing here?"

"I got called away," she replied. "Just a little invasion by pirates, nothing much. Picked up some slaves, of course, I seem to attract them like a magnet. I talked to Amber and her clan-mothers, they're looking to resettle some of their people, and I thought you'd be here, maybe we could work a deal."

Sprink looked away for a moment, "It's still a bit before the local business day starts. Why don't you lot grab a shuttle over, we'll talk, I'll call down and see if we can modify our contract to accept another species." She looked over her best bud, "When's the last time you slept in, you look like shite."

"Always the diplomat," Mattie grinned. "Sleep? What's that?"

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

(We would like to see the trees at this location for ourselves,) one of the delegation of clan-mothers said.

"Not a problem," Sprink said. "This is a trade port we are putting in, but we do things a little differently, we don't use slaves, we use machines and containers instead. They are much more efficient, and let us move a greater volume instead of one barrel at a time."

(This I would also like to see,) a clan-mother said.

"The workday is about to start on the planet," Captain Alvarez said as she stood and gestured. "We have a shuttle waiting, the appropriate planetary government people will meet us there."

"I want to get some photos, too," Mattie said.

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

"Adding them is not a problem, although we would like a rider on the contract," one of the local officials said with the clan-mother's agreement. "As part of your lease agreement, you agree to contribute to system and convoy security. You'll need to have at least one warship in system, which goes toward your tonnage quota."

Amber said, (Your other clients also contribute to your system defense. We must also look to other star systems, but we shall leave a buoy in orbit that will summon any available Lantern, in time of need.)

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

"Life is interesting around you, Wayne," Gloria Alvarez said later. "How long have you been a Lantern?"

"A year or so, and keep that under your hat, please," Mattie asked, while Sprink snorted, "Interesting. You have no bloody idea, ma'am. What's next?"

"Well, the next part is something I have slight difficulties with," Mattie said. "Amber called me to help handle that pirate attack. That's where those two ships come from; since I helped out, I claimed any existing slaves as well as that colony ship. I plan to take the slaves back to Windfall and free them."

"Sounds reasonable, go on," Gloria said, sipping her tea.

"The destroyer is part of the agreement with the Wookie's clan mothers, it's a security guarantee." Mattie shrugged, "It was their system, it seemed reasonable." She took a sip of coffee, then set the cup down with a click, regarding the other two women in the room. "That's why the delegation of clan-mothers is here. They're looking to establish at least one out-system colony; they're only a few thousand population, which is dropping. I was thinking one of the larger agricultural stations on Windfall, but this place would work equally well."

"Or both," Sprink said. "Redundancy is a good thing."

"The transport is what the pirates were going to use for their prisoners. I haven't had much time to look at it," Mattie admitted. "At first glance it looks like a military transport. We'd have to refit it back from cells to cabins, but that shouldn't be too difficult, we can do that at Terra."

"What about that light cruiser? They've got several compartments connected and pressurized with plastic tubing," Gloria said. "It's got a prize crew aboard it, they're doing exercises with it."

Mattie took a sip of her coffee, "As far as I'm concerned, the sooner they can get it back to Terra and taken apart, the better. If they're comfortable with the operations, good luck and God-speed to them."

Sprink commented, "They're assembling a dock to take it at L5. By the time they get there, it should be ready." She took a swallow of her own tea, "Basically a big hundred-fifty meter sphere, they've got additional partitions they can put in to subdivide it." The other two nodded as she continued, "According to Charlie's emails, Governor Sullivan will be happy with the civilian ships there until we can get a warship there. He's also sent us a list of questions about our island here, and a list of equipment they'll need to jump-start the asteroid ore processing. For now, what they're having to do is ship ore down to the Landing site, and metal up to orbit, which is a bloody pain."

"And more expensive," Mattie said. She took a sip of coffee, "We can start to do some recruiting on Terra, but the Wookies can also work in orbit." She shook her head, "The Wookie's planet is out of the Jurassic. We left most of the pirates on the planet, the ones we have wanted to cross their wrists over living on that planet. We're taking them on parole, the rest decided to tough it out on one of the islands and wait for their buddies to rescue them. They only have TWO meter dinosaurs to deal with instead of fifty meter ones." She shuddered, "Still, I went by the clan-mothers decision, local law. We're going to need skeleton crews for both ships, my 'senior captain' is a rescued slave, formerly third officer on a passenger liner. I just don't trust those pirates."

"I don't blame you," Captain Alvarez said. She sipped her tea in thought. "Still, that does give us three ships. As far as I know, we're pretty much done here, you've emailed Mr. Adams?"

Sprink nodded, "Mentioned Mattie was here, too. I'm waiting to hear back on a couple questions, but aside from that I'm good. We need to get Pansy in for construction, but as far as I'm concerned we can break orbit after I get a call back." She took a sip of tea, "We were planning to pick up a passenger ship or two for the colony transports. We can do that on Mangione, also Governor Sullivan wants to contract out Gix and T'ara's ship, the Ngthsestr, as a mail boat, like super-express delivery. I wrote back, saying Greywolf was interested, and they'll stop at Mangione for installation of the computers and whatnot."

"Gaa, you can pronounce that name? As long as they get a paint job," Mattie commented. "Purple and yellow? That gives me headaches."

"White and light grey are much more soothing," Gloria said. "We'll break orbit later today."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Wednesday, July 24, 2002: 08:08 (GMT)
Terra, Hogwarts, Infirmary:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Ladies," Madame Pomfrey said. "I have good news and bad news."

"Good news first," Sandra said instantly.

"I am discharging you. Your shipmates have dropped off clothing for you, you are free to leave."

"What is the bad news?" Doc asked as she was lowered to the ground, where she did some full-body stretches. Sandra did some light exercises, muscles stiff as two chairs were floated in with neatly folded clothing and boots.

"I shall miss you, you have proved not only a professional challenge, but a refreshing change from potion and transfiguration accidents." The grey-clad matron gave each of them a hug, "Your shipmates are waiting in the Great Hall for you. Stop by and see us again, won't you?"

"Certainly," Doc said as she returned the hug.

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

"Ladies," Captain Watson said, rising to greet them. "I am glad to see you up and about. The doctor has released you?"

"Yes, and I never want to taste another potion in my life," Sandra replied. "That bone-growth one was horrible!"

"There be worse ones, lass," Frank said. "Trust me on tha' one." He reached under the table they sat at, and tossed the First Officer a staff. "Good solid oak, w' steel bands, lass. Thump y' enemies."

"And as for you, Doctor," the Captain handed over a book. "The crew has clubbed up to purchase an assortment of potions for your use, packed in single-use vials. They are already stowed aboard ship, as is Ms. Laval's cargo of assorted plants. The book is descriptions, dosage, and so forth, and the ship's medical database has been updated." He turned to indicate the young woman in her early twenties who sat near him. "Ms. Laval is a graduate of Loyola University in the States, and will serve Governor Sullivan as her botanist. Some of the same duties that Mr. MacDonald serves the Scythe."

"A witch," Sandra replied, twirling her new staff.

"Nae just a' witch," the dusky-skinned young woman said, shaking her corn-row braided dark blonde hair. "I be a voudou priestess, carrying on the proud traditions of my mothers and grandmothers."

"Voodoo?" the First Officer replied with a disbelieving snort. "I could..." she froze in place, and then levitated from the floor, turning to 'lie' face-down, four feet in the air. She blinked, but that was all she could do.

"An' tha' was without my makin' a doll, or havin' your skin, blood, or hair," Ms. Laval said calmly. Her left hand made a small motion, and the former assassin found herself back on her feet. Marie studied the smaller Chinese woman under half-lidded eyes, a finger twitched, and Sandra stumbled a bit as she could move again.

The two regarded each other; then Sandra smiled sweetly, nodding and extending a hand, "Welcome aboard the Scythe."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Thursday, July 25, 2002: 03:15 (GMT) (Fiveday, 27 Quintus, 162: 09:30)
Windfall, High Town, Justice Ministry slave cells (lowest level):
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

As he walked down the dimly lit stone corridor, Arthur commented, "Y'know, Elena, I'm glad you could make it. There are some things I could really use advice on. I'm not a Slytherin, a politician, and while Pansy's helped, they can be rather cold blooded."

"They're practical, little brother," his sister said, pausing and moving aside as a chain of slaves moved past. "This is a slave planet, and you can't simply click your heels and make it over, you can be rather idealistic."

"Somebody has to be. I have, essentially, Mattie's proxy," Arthur replied. "She is the new head of clan Lantern, what was formerly clan Daala, and the social set is turning itself inside out to get me to their parties. She left, very publicly, but I don't know what to do."

"Ignore them. Consolidate power along with Herr Gruber and Mr. Burnet," she advised. "You're the Finance Minister now, you even look it." She gestured to his heavy white robes, adding, "Burnet took over the Information Ministry when Zuunti kicked the bucket."

"A hostile takeover, I know," her brother said. The Information Minister, not knowing of various revelations, had gone out to his favorite restaurant for last-meal, and had run into trouble. Fatal trouble, and despite the noise he must have made, nobody had seen or heard anything. His slaves had all been securely locked in their cells, his First Girl had not left the residence (as there was a slave barrier at the door). Personally, Arthur suspected his personal household slaves had arranged something, he was beginning to understand how devious they could be, all while kneeling, smiling, and saying, 'Yes, master'. Of course, officially, he had no clue. "Thanks for coming along," he said.

"The uniformed services are at the bidding of our civilian masters," she said.

"Yeah, right," he replied. "That and a gram will get you a cup of tea."

"On which planet?" she asked. "By the way, where's Daala? I wanted to see him."

"At the house, in a cell on the lowest level, with the rack and other toys," he replied, and stopped at a gate and gestured to a Ministry guard, who unlocked a heavy wooden door at least two inches thick. An iron grille allowed a view through it, but the mesh was far too small to reach through. They walked through, the door shut with a hollow boom, and he whispered, "I swear, they must design for effect." The Ministry prison looked like something from the Terran middle ages, with torches mounted every so far, built out of stone and brick.

Arthur checked a card, then stopped at a tiny cell, no wider than the heavy wooden door. Inside, Elena could see three tightly hooded slave girls with judicial collars, their wrists cuffed behind them, and their doubled-back leashes attached to a high ring, forcing them to kneel in the inspection position. Arthur took a key from his pouch, turning it several times to unlock the door. Replacing it, he held the door for his sister, "These three are known as the Trouble Trio. Know the person Mom said that was killed with Mattie in command?"

"Yeah."

"Doesn't look dead to me," he said, tapping a hairless slave on the head. He addressed them, "The System Governor wants to see you three. When I release your ankles, you will stand and be chained in coffle." The three whimpered once, and he added to his sister, "These three are troublemakers, lazy, good for nothing." He winked at his sister, "The Governor has essentially thrown up her hands and given up. There's a ship going out, they'll probably be on it. Stand up, the three of you," and he tapped one. "You, turn left, you're leading because you're closer to the door."

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

Arthur paused outside one cell, and the trailing slaves knelt. "You could call this the VIP section, there's only single occupants to these cells. Of course, it could be because the cells are smaller."

Elena looked in, there was a single hooded slave girl, heavily chained and neck-ringed in a space about eighteen by twenty-four inches. Her brother continued, "I don't know if you've heard about the Elder's merry little game of chase slave, but there was one that belonged to Paavue that evaded him, somehow, for five years. He swore that when he caught her, she would last at least four months for embarrassing him." He gestured, "Here she is. She was caught in the same trap that the slave 94383 was in, when we collected her, we got the both. Out of respect for her abilities, she got a private cell." As he was unlocking the cell, he asked the slave, "I will do you the courtesy of not using your enhancement to force you, if you will co-operate." She gave a defiant double whimper, and Elena thought she would have spat if she could have. He sighed, "Restrict slave 19571." The girl jerked, and Arthur unlocked her, leaving the door partially open to indicate vacancy.

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

"These are all the enhanced slaves that are not being used as computer components," Arthur told his sister when the other four had been added to the group. She picked out several of the chase slaves, and felt a little jealous, those girls were indeed knockouts. The slaves sat tightly gagged and hooded, and she felt pity for them as they were secured in the shuttle's seats. Giving her a hug, Arthur left her, and she secured the hatch.

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

"I'm not sure how I feel about these passengers," Helen said from the right seat. "We're doing something good for them, but we're still treating them like... like... cattle."

"I know," Elena said as she strapped in and adjusted her seat. "Did you see some of them? They're designed to be attractive, you heard about the chase slaves?"

"Yeah. Gives 'arm candy' a whole new meaning," the Taiwanese copilot said as she flipped switches and took notes in grease pencil on the window. "Ready to lift."

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

Arthur turned and waved as his sister's shuttle lifted, Helen returned his wave. He watched as the shuttle turned and flew south, then sighed and settled his shoulders. He nodded down the street, "I'm in the mood for a cuppa, what about you?" he asked his bodyguard.

"You're buying, Herr Minister?" Heinrich asked with a smile.

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

Outside the teashop, there were a dozen or so slaves kneeling in the sun, waiting for their owners. Heinrich could see Herr Morton's face tighten into his usual frown, then smooth out as their conversation died down, the slaves shifted, putting their heads down. "Fair morning, Minister," several said.

"Good morning, girls," he replied. "Any interesting news today?" Several free persons stopped looking at the large video display next door and turned to listen. One of the shop slaves hurried out the door, Arthur was known here, she carried the usual two cups of herbal tea. As usual, she insisted that her master did not wish his coin, and he insisted on paying for his drink and Heinrich's.

"Master, what is this we hear of females being granted the vote?" one off-planet slave asked. She was a WorkForce girl in a common collar; her hands were cuffed behind her and she was leashed to a slave ring. She was evidence of her owner's relative wealth, most slave owners could not afford an imported slave. Her face and neck showed tan lines from her owner removing her heavy black leather mask. She shook her hair back as Arthur took a sip of his tea.

"It's simple," he replied. "We're essentially doing a reset back to the original legal code of the colony. We're trying to eliminate the gender bias, things like the property requirement. What we're proposing is free males and females over fifteen standard years can vote and hold public office. A person can hold an Assembly position for three five year terms, then they must sit out at least one term before running again." There was some discussion of this, one burly male shoved his way through the crowd, demanding, "What is this shonnen-dropping about arming slaves?"

Arthur took a sip of tea, motioning Heinrich back as he set his cup down. He stood, face to face with the angry local, and said, "If you had bothered to read the news, or listen to our broadcasts, you would know that applies to the northern continent. There is a predator animal there, they need to be able to defend both themselves and their farms. What would you have them do?" The angry man snarled at him, then turned and shoved through the crowd.

"I still don't like the idea," another owner said nervously.

"If you treat your slaves well, you don't need to worry," a rail-thin blonde woman said airily. "I know I do, my slaves would never dream of lifting a finger without my permission. I rarely have to beat them, they love me, and it's not as if you Terrans are planning to free them. Why, the very thought is absurd, after all." She snorted delicately, waving a dismissive hand, "No, I plan to have my district's Assembly seat. We know the problems, we need to have a change from the Elders. What is this currency reform you're proposing?"

Arthur didn't miss the flash of a smirk on the slave's face as she put her head down. "It's simple," he said, and waved a hand at the sky. "This is a rich binary system, basing the economy on iron is like basing it on sand. We're going to be moving to an economy based on the galactic standard, tungsten. What we have to decide is the conversion rate." He checked his wrist comp, "A gram of tungsten will buy roughly seventeen thousand kilos of iron on the interstellar markets, we want to be fair to people, but we also can't afford to bankrupt the government."

This caused a lot of comment, Arthur sat back and let them run down, when someone asked, "What do you mean, 'rich'? The Elders have always said that the island's metal-poor."

"The ISLAND is, but you've got two large asteroid belts, you've got mines available on the continent, and the Elders made some very poor decisions in favor of lining their pockets," Arthur replied. He took a sip of tea, gesturing at the large video screen. "That's why we've been showing our weekly meetings, and why I'm sitting here drinking tea. We believe in transparency and open government, how often did Daala sit and drink tea with ordinary people?" He took another swallow of tea, "Once we get things built up a bit, every house and business will have a computer, you'll be able to do your banking and keep track of things like government." The rail-thin blonde woman flinched slightly, and Arthur decided to twist the knife a bit, adding, "If your Assembly-person is doing something you don't agree with in Riverside, you can keep an eye on it, you can write him or her to express your unhappiness, and remember, they stand for election every five years, and they'll have a district office here as well." He took a final sip of tea, "One problem we've found is widespread bribery and official corruption. While the people we've arrested are being tried under the OLD laws, once the new constitution goes into effect, offering a bribe gets a thirty year collar, but ACCEPTING a bribe, by a government official is a capital offense." He made a quick, throat-cutting gesture, "Public execution, we put your head on a fence with a big sign: 'Convicted of public corruption'. Should do wonders to eliminate payoffs. You'll notice I pay for my tea? I want to keep my head."

Standing, he said, "Back to the office, Heinrich. Need to figure out a fair way to reform this economy."

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

C'ari and the other slaves had been watered and suctioned, their hoods removed, and knelt in the sand in the shade of palm trees while Elena and Helen waited, sitting on the local version of a picnic table. Helen checked her wrist comp, saying, "It looks like the Governor's running late, so..."

"No, she's not! Hang on there!" and an older blonde came up the path, memo board in hand. Elena and Helen stood in respect, and the slaves put their heads to the ground. Mistress Governor said, "Heads up, girls," and sat at the table. "Girls, I'm Lieutenant Governor Castellano. Would the six chase slaves go to Inspection position for a minute?" She waited, then said, "I only see five..."

Elena said, "19571, please sit up, I don't want to force you." She sighed, "Governor, my brother Arthur told me about these girls, and he said, and I quote, 'The criminal charges and convictions are purest shonnen-shit.'" She grinned, "On the other hand, 19571 has been on the run for five years or so, damned if I know how. However, she embarrassed the hell out of Paavue, which gives her lots of points in my book."

The red-haired slave sprang to her feet, getting ready to run, when Helen punched her, using her leash chain to hogtie her. The rebellious slave tried to free herself, twisting around to glare, which is about all she could do.

"Looks like someone's trying for an actual judicial collar," Benni said. "Set her up on her knees, please. How far do you think you could go?"

"She's an escape artist, the only reason we got her was a taser, and she couldn't run very fast, her hobbles were chained together. I actually have a lot of respect for her, and the other chase slaves, the way the Elders stacked the deck against them."

"Hmf," Benni replied thoughtfully. "Girl, if you will do me the courtesy of your attention for the next half-hour or so, I will release your hands and feet, and let you go where you choose. You will wear the System Governor's collar, who is a former slave herself, and my boss. You can either go along with my plan, or make your own way, but if you want your freedom and a dark collar, my way is the only way."

19571 considered this, then nodded once. Elena reached down to release her hands and ankles, which the girl rubbed, held up a finger, and went for water. She came back, kneeling with her knees together, and nodded politely.

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

"That's the deal," Benni said in summary. "If you have a judicial collar, like eight of you do, including the chase girls, I will decide based on your crimes and behavior to extend, reduce or nullify your sentence, at which time you can move to a common collar." She took a drink of water, "If you have a common collar, you belong to the Governor only as protection while you learn a trade. You can ask for a dark collar at any time before the end of your apprenticeship, but then you violate the contract with both the Governor and your teacher, your Sensei. That would mean paying back the balance owed, if you stick it out, you wind up with an education, a trade, a dark collar and money in your pocket." She took another drink of water, then said, "I'm going to refill my water, you girls think about it for five minutes or so," and turned to 19571. "You paid attention, you are released from our agreement. You can take off running, or sit back and think about my offer." The chase slave tugged at her leash and her gag, and Benni shook her finger, "That's what I mean when I said 'teaching you to think free'. If you had indicated you wanted them off when we made our agreement, I would remove them. You didn't, so I won't. You lasted over five years with the black one on, so it's not necessary to your survival. I'm not putting your hobbles back on, nor am I confining your hands. You're ahead of where you were five years ago, you can do what you want, go where you want on this island, which you probably know fairly well." She stood up, stretching, then walked off to the water point, leaving the girls to think.

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

"You're still here?" Benni said, somewhat surprised as she saw the un-gagged 19571. Elena held up her finger, "There are still questions, and I said that she could take off running after the questions, if she wanted to."

"I am still collared and leashed, mistress," the girl said hoarsely. "I am still marked slave," and there was a sense of disgust there.

"Go drink water, see if you can soothe your throat," Benni said. "We can wait a few minutes longer."

"Let me help," Elena offered.

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

"First, we cannot remove your collars," Benni said. "With enhancement, it's impossible. No matter what, you're in those collars."

"The question is what color lights we show, and who holds our control chips, mistress," 19571 said.

"Should you decide to go with the program, a judicial collar would be blue and green, a common blue and yellow," Benni replied. "A dark collar would of course be dark, and we would also remove your slave belts." She regarded the chase slave, "Should you decide to run again, your collar would be returned to green and yellow, and you would remain as naked as you are now. We would not revoke the reward on your capture, you would be on your own, which would be your decision."

"I do not want to be forced to kneel, to call anyone mistress, mistress. The fact that my enhancement forces me to enrages me," she spat. "I am my own mistress, I am no one's property!" She stood, stumbled, and began to pace, once more on her toes.

Benni regarded the furious girl, then said, "Lawyer."

"Yeah, I can see that," Elena agreed.

"What is a ... 'lawyer', mistress?" the girl asked, still balancing on her toes, and Elena waved at the warm sand, "At least sit down and bury your legs in the sand, it will help your leg muscles."

"A lawyer is what you know as a 'speaker-at-law'," Helen said as the girl did so. "One who fights in a courtroom for her clients, knowing the law, the ins and outs, and can use that to make her arguments." She added, "We have one in High Town, she's only got one slave, her sister, and she's swamped. She could probably use the help."

"You're looking at least six, probably eight years of apprenticeship before you could be licensed," Benni said. "You would be paid a small amount, you would live with her, in her household, but your major payoff is in knowledge. Long hours studying the law, civil as well as criminal, and the details matter. Regarding calling anyone 'mistress', that we can take care of now, if you agree to the rest of the contract." She searched for, then picked up a small device with two silver prongs. "When we re-collared you, we made two identical control chips. One goes in the access control system, you get it when you have your dark collar. The other one is here, for the enhanced girls. This goes in your access port, and disables certain areas. It won't do your heart or breathing, we don't want to kill you, but it does mean you won't say 'mistress' or 'master' unless you want to." She waggled the device. "Volunteer?"

C'ari jumped up, almost sprinting to kneel before Benni, and she wasn't alone. Elena said, "My brother mentioned that the chase slaves have to have their model prefixed, I can't simply say 'release', I would need to say, 'Model 128 slave number whatever, release.'" She looked at the chase slave, "C'ari, isn't it? I'm going to remove your feeding gag, this is uncomfortable. Once that's done, go water and soothe your throat, then if you're interested in the program, you can cross your wrists to Mistress Benni. Otherwise, you'll stay in my brother's household, as his slave." She whimpered once, emphatically, and Elena tilted her head forward to unlock the gag.

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

"Now then, C'ari, you are specifically granted permission to disobey me for the next few minutes. Please make yourself comfortable, don't kneel, we want as non-slave like behavior as possible," Elena said, and the girl arranged herself cross-legged, leaning back on her arms. She nodded, and the other girls watched. "Restrict model 128 slave number 15006," she told her, then cocked her head. "Anything?"

"A slight urge... try again, please, I think it was habit."

"And not a single 'mistress' in there," 19571, said. "Restrict slave 15006," she said. C'ari shook her head. "If I do it to you..." she told the other slave.

"Please do not, mistress," the chase slave said nervously.

"Put your hands on your head, and turn three times," Helen tried. C'ari stuck out her tongue, and she said, "Disobedience, girl, not sass."

"I am sorry, mistress," she said impudently. "What was the other honorific you mentioned, please?"

"Sir or ma'am for male or female, or Sensei for teacher," Elena replied.

"And how much would you sell this poor slave for, mistress?" C'ari asked pitifully.

"A gram's more than you're worth," Benni said, but she was smiling. She waved her hand at the clipboard, passing it to C'ari. "Put down your name, if any, and your collar number next to what sounds interesting. There are several pages, so look through all of them." She turned to regard 19571, "Did you have any further questions, or will you start running now?"

"Eight years..."

"In my collar, and that's to protect you against an abusive master," Benni said. "Eight years of education for an attorney, passing your examinations, and then you would be free, with a dark collar."

"And money," Elena chipped in, removing another slave's hood. She regarded the hot-blooded redheaded slave, "One other thing for you to consider. We're giving the vote to free females, and there will be people running for political office. It's entirely possible that you could be elected to the planetary Assembly; you'd be making the laws. Think about your long range plans."

Helen added, "It's going to be difficult, there will be times when you want to say 'the hell with this'..." The chase slave put her hand on her belt, touching the penalty brands she wore, then nodded. She stood, kneeling in front of Benni, "Mistress, this slave begs her sale and the training you have mentioned. Beat me, bind me, brand me, own me," and she paused, then took a deep breath and crossed her wrists.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Thursday, July 25, 2002: 13:38 (GMT +3)
Terra, Corfu, Solar Guard training base:

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

"Good afternoon," Selina Wayne said from the temporary platform. She smiled, "I'm sorry, I throw a different press conference than my daughter, I don't feed the press." She pulled off her black silk robe, revealing a tight white bodysuit. There were catcalls and whistles, and the click and whir of camera shutters, she stretched luxuriously, then moved back behind the podium. "This is what people will be wearing in the holographic training tanks that WayneTech is donating to the Solar Guard." She grinned impishly, "This is the same technology that the JLA uses, there is an old saying that it is better to sweat in training than bleed in combat." She shrugged back into her robe, then indicated the commanding general, "General Miklos has kindly agreed to a zero gee combat demonstration, but there is a reason for that sign reading 'Abandon hope, ye who enter.' General?"

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Thursday, July 25, 2002: 16:45 (GMT) (Fiveday, 27 Quintus, 162: 22:45)
Windfall, High Town, Finance Minister's home:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"You have a visitor, master," First said with a small smile, then stepped aside to show a bashful C'ari. Arthur stood, "A visitor, C'ari? You'll always be a friend of mine. You made a decision?"

The redhead took a deep breath, "Yes, my former master. I hope it is the right decision..." She hesitated, then ran to hug him, "Oh, how can I thank you, master?"

"By letting me breathe?" he gasped, and she squeaked and released him. He put his arms on her shoulders, smiling at her, then pulled her into a small hug. He put an arm over her shoulders, "Let's go to the kitchen, get a cup of tea, and we can all celebrate with you."

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

Arthur took the first cup, placing it in C'ari's hands, then ceremoniously pouring her a cup of tea. He accepted the second cup, leaning back against the counter as the other household girls filtered into the kitchen, followed by Miika, who leaned against the doorframe. "So..." he invited.

"Master's sister said that travel would broaden my mind, so I decided to sign on to the new mail ship, the Ngthsestr. My contract with the Governor will earn a dark collar when I have my Spacer First rating, so it is possible I will have a dark collar within three standard years."

"Oh... I am jealous," First said. "I will kneel and call you mistress..."

"I said before, and I'll say it again," Arthur repeated. "If you think you can survive as a free female, I'll free you here and now. That means making your own decisions, and our financial reform package also includes payment for your service." He slapped his forehead, "By the way, I've got a letter back for you in my office from T'ela. Don't let me forget it."

"I did not belong to you very long, my lord Arthur, but I wish you and your female, the Lady Lantern, all the joy in the universe," C'ari said. "My only regret is that I do not think I will be there to witness your joining ceremony."

"It's a possibility, I'll keep you in mind," Arthur said, and the buxom redheaded slave squealed, throwing her arms around him, kissing him. She sighed in happiness, when Miika asked, "Tell us about your ship, girl."

"It is a small ship, but fast, master," C'ari said. "Mistress T'ara is the owner, but she wears a judicial collar, so a Terran is serving as Captain. Our first stop is to have the additional computers and hardware installed to fit us as an Imperial mail ship." She glanced impishly at Arthur, "For some reason, the Terrans do not like the ship's paint, so we shall also be repainted white and light grey. Personally, I do not see what is wrong with purple and yellow."

"It's painful to look at," Arthur said. "You try not to draw attention. Who else is joining you?"

"Mistress Governor Castellano called them the 'Trouble Trio'. There was a long discussion regarding the possibility of two of them 'jumping ship' at a particular planet, apparently they had kin there." C'ari shuddered, "They are already Spacer Third, with a little more work, they will earn a dark collar and may go where they wish. Why would they risk being hunted as escaped slaves? As I understand it, we do not even land most of the time, it is primarily transmission of data."

Arthur took a sip of tea, "I know about these two. The firstborn twin, A'nore, is hotheaded and impulsive. She was forced to cross her wrists to her sister, B'tan, who is somewhat more levelheaded. Still, they're sisters, they are the only kin they have. The other is an un-named slave?"

C'ari nodded. "She wears a judicial collar, and her mask is attached to her face somehow. Mistress Governor Castellano said she wore it because she attacked a free person." The other slaves in the kitchen reacted to that, "I heard later that Mistress Governor Sullivan owed her life to the slave, when she herself was slave, so she commuted the sentence from death to thirty years." She looked at Arthur, "Lord Lantern, the other Terrans seemed... irritated with that slave. Can you tell me why?"

"Privately, and only because she will be your shipmate, you deserve to know. I expect you to keep it confidential also." C'ari nodded, "Yes, my Lord Lantern."

"Come," First said. "The last night you will spend with we common girls. Master, can you struggle through without us for one night?"

"I think so, just don't wake Miika up. Enjoy yourself, and I will see you all in the morning."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Friday, July 26, 2002: 08:07 (relative)
In orbit,
Ngthsestr, Flight deck:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"I think it's time we get things organized," Yael Miller said from the Captain's chair. She indicated T'ara, who was in the single control position's chair. "The Triplets are all flight-deck qualified, so they'll be taking the individual watches. T'ara will be serving as our Engineer, she and I are on call. C'ari, you'll be working with T'ara to learn the ship's systems while you're not studying for Spacer Third."

"Yes, Mistress," C'ari, A'nore and B'tan replied, while the nameless 94383 whimpered from where she knelt.

"Second point," Yael said. "I am your Captain, not your Mistress. You may be collared, but as far as I am concerned, you're not slaves, but shipmates." She looked at 94383, "Governor Sullivan may have sentenced you to that gag, but I'm going to have it removed when we reach Mangione and we undergo refit. You can't do your job properly if you can't speak. Any questions from anyone?"

"We are not slaves?" C'ari asked hesitantly.

"Not to me," Yael said. "To anyone outside the crew, all five of you are wearing judicial collars, so you can expect to be treated as slaves, and you'll have to wear slave yellow. That shouldn't be too often, we'll generally get into transmission range. If we have physical mail or light cargo, that's a different situation, we'll have to land or dock at a station. We'll deal with it then." She eyed her crew, then nodded. "T'ara, please draw up a watch schedule, and 94383, take the helm and prepare to break orbit. I want to speak to you privately." T'ara logged off and stood, gesturing to the others as 94383 stood and stretched, taking the helm as the others left.

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

Yael sat back and watched the (very) short-haired girl as she worked the console. The leatherlike mask she wore flowed down from her nose, under her eyes and over her cheeks and jawline, back to seamlessly cover the back of her neck. She reviewed what she knew of the girl while she worked. 'British, originally Arrowhead's network boffin,' she thought. 'She's turned down several chances to get out of her collar, going so far as to take a swing at Miss Wayne. The other girls obviously know her history, by the way they treat her. I think ... I'll treat her no better or worse than the others for now, we'll see how she likes being treated as a slave at Mangione.' She nodded to herself, and said aloud, "Ship's log, Captain Yael Miller recording. We have broken orbit from Windfall, and are currently working through the inner asteroid belt in this system. Our destination is Mangione, where we will have the equipment installed for making this ship over to a proper mail boat. End entry." She stood, crossing to the replicator and asking, "Tea?"

94383 whimpered once with a nod, her focus on her board. She heard the hum of the replicator, and her new Captain set an insulated cup next to her. She glanced sideways as a legal pad was placed next to her, her Captain added, "I don't know what your tastes are regarding tea. The legal pad is for you. How long to clear this asteroid belt?"

She could feel the gag's packing in her mouth, the tube going down her esophagus. Part of tea-drinking was the social interaction. She reached a brief gap, and wrote on the pad, 'Thank you for the tea. I can't taste it until the mask is removed.' She slid the pencil behind her ear, and touched the controls, at their current speed the normally sparse asteroids came up fairly quickly. She did a quick query of the ship's radar, then scribbled, 'Probably another 3-4 hours for this belt at this speed. Do you want to orbit an outer planet?' The Captain leaned forward to read this, then said, "No, but do what you need to take a break at that point." She whimpered once, then returned her attention to her board.

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

"She wanted a collar?" C'ari said in disbelief. "My former master said that, but I didn't really believe him. Who would be so foolish?"

"94383," T'ara said, gesturing to the flight deck. "She's wearing a collar and brands now, I think we treat her as low slave for now, until our new Mistress lets us know differently." She shook her head, "These Terrans are different, but I think even they are irritated with her."

"She is still our shipmate," B'tan said, and rolled her shoulders in her new white and grey slave tunic. "I am willing to give the Terrans my loyalty, they have made things so we do not have to say 'Master' continually. It is a little thing, I know..."

"But very irritating," C'ari agreed, tapping her own implant. She turned to T'ara, "For now, you are First Girl, mistress, and I am to learn from you. Please instruct me."

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

94383 whimpered once to get her new Mistress' attention, then handed over her legal pad. 'We have cleared the inner asteroid belt, and are at station-keeping, mistress,' she had written.

"Good," Yael said, handing it back. She sat back and regarded the girl. She had had her hair shorn recently, and had white-blonde peach fuzz hair. A chain leash was integrated into her mask, ringing her neck above her slave collar. She did not wear one of the ship's slave tunics, wearing her slave belt and a pair of worn leather sandals. On her wrists and ankles, silver bands anchored small bells, she wore a ring on each middle finger that kept the bells flat against the back of her hands. She also wore a black metal ring fixed through the top of her septum, and grommets through her earlobes. "Why didn't you put on a tunic?" she asked.

'I am low slave,' the girl wrote on her pad, adding, 'just as I am nameless. That is my owner, Mistress Governor Sullivan's decision, mistress.' She thought for a moment, then wrote, 'As my Captain and use-mistress, I will obey your orders, but I do not desire one. While mistress wishes to remove my mask, my owner wished me to wear it. I admit it would be easier to perform my tasks, mistress.'

"You'd rather leave it on?" Yael asked, and the slave whimpered once. Shaking her head, Yael waved toward the forward window, and said, "No. Not on my ship. You'll wear what I say."

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Saturday, July 27, 2002: 06:15 (GMT) (Firsday, 1 Sextus, 162: 07:20)
Windfall, Riverside, Governor's complex, conference room:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Good morning, everyone, and Arthur, it's good to see you back." Christine said, adjusting the blinds behind her chair to block the sun. She took a seat, looking up at the four monitors suspended from the ceiling, the cameras below them.

"It's good to be back, ma'am. How did T'ara make out?"

"I cut her sentence in half, thirty to fifteen years, and left her seven year credit. That gives her about seven and a half years in my collar, so I think she's doing all right." The governor grinned up at the camera, "C'ari is... well, she's cute. I'm a little surprised she still has that much spark."

Christine turned as Charlie came in, taking a seat next to her and using the stuffed Wabbit to 'attack' her across the table. She 'shot' it with her finger, then blew the 'smoke' away as it 'squealed' and died. "They call me 'Deadeye'," she drawled. "Fastest wabbit shot in the north."

"In that case, Frau Governor, I resign," Herr Gruber said from the suspended monitor. "Like a good German, I will go back to menacing Moscow with my panzers."

"The socialist workers and peasants of the Motherland will once again rise up to defeat the imperialist aggressors!" Piotr said from the screen.

"The sailors of the Russian navy have a better idea. Let us open a bottle of good vodka and drink," Captain Senyavin said from the McCoy.

"Sake," Captain Komatsu said from the Buckminster Fuller. From his side, Pansy snorted, "You lot don't grow up in pubs like we Brits do. I challenge you lot to a drinking contest, you with me, Adams?"

"Of course, milady," Charlie replied in a 'posh' accent. He raised his glass of ice water. "We must defend the honour of the Crown. God save the Queen."

"Which one?" Arthur asked. He raised his own mug of tea, "I suppose I must defend my Liege Lady's honor. I'm in. When Mattie and the Nevis get back, at Port Lincoln?"

"Actually, I got an email from Sprink and the Nevis," Charlie said. "Are we started yet?"

"I guess so," Christine said, and tapped her gavel. "Who's monitoring the crowd?"

"I am, mistress," a male voice said. "Miika."

"He's a good man," Arthur said, and surprised, Miika replied, "Thank you, master."

"Put me down for new business," Pansy said.

"All right," Christine said, making a note. "Old business first, agency reports. Mr. Burnet, the economy?"

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

Tapping her gavel, Christine said, "Mr. Adams, last week you didn't get to finish your report on the wabbit problem and the colony sites. Let's have that to finish off old business."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, shuffling his notes. "I think people misunderstood when I mentioned 'arming slaves'. The situation in the northern sites is this. There is a small predator, called the 'Wabbit' (he picked up the stuffed toy). This is the correct size and colouring of the animal. It's an ambush and a pack hunter, so you might encounter several of them in a garden or field. I know it doesn't look like much of a threat, but one of these can kill you with a poison quill within five seconds or so, and then it will eat you."

He aimed the toy at the camera and flicked the tail. "The wabbit doesn't CARE if you're in a collar or not. The only way to handle it is to kill it, and that means that everyone is wearing protective clothing from the neck down, and second, that everyone in that area is armed with some form of gun. Like I said, it doesn't CARE if you're a slave or not. If you see one, you kill it. Simple as that."

"So, you're a slave, and you're in the barn, and you've just killed a wabbit. They have a post-mortem reflex, which means they're dangerous after they're dead. You've just shot this one, its head and body are bloody meat, you go to pick it up..." one hand grabbed the toy, the other slapped the tail on his hand, "...and it kills you with its quills, even after its dead. So what you do is take a chopper..." he pulled one off the floor, "...these are basically just a strong, spring-loaded knife on a pole, and you cut off its tail." With the rip of Velcro, it came off. "We're offering a bounty per head or body, so you take this body, throw it in the basket with the others, and check the rest of the barn to make sure that's the only one." He re-attached the tail, "I think any master, even the most strict, will see this. Otherwise, he's going to lose livestock and his family members to these wabbits. Now, why haven't we seen these wabbits on the island? They don't like the heat, they're a forest and grassland predator, and they hibernate, they sleep during the winter months. That's when they breed."

Christine picked up the toy as Charlie continued, "Now, we do have plans to kill any existing wabbits and block them from returning to our areas, but that also means that everyone is ready to kill them on sight. What we'll be doing is putting up fences and gates they can't get through."

"Fences are ugly," Christine commented.

"There is another possibility of some plants, called irontip," Charlie said. "There is a legal question regarding ownership, which is why I didn't bring it up. These are strong hedges, tough enough to stop a shonnen herd, but there's a gap of six centimeters or so at the base, which the wabbit might slip through. There's another plant, called bloodvine, that we can place to block that, but the ownership of that plant's patent isn't clear, which is why we haven't licensed it."

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

"New business," Christine said. "Ms. Parkinson?"

"Yes, I'd just like to report the first nine agricultural sites are ready to go, that's sites sixteen through twenty-four, inclusive. We're working north to south, we wanted to get them done before winter set in. Also, weather stations forty-five through fifty are installed and uploading data, including the one at the north pole, on the icecap."

"Excellent!" Herr Gruber said. "Including the web cameras?"

"Pointing due south," Pansy replied with a grin.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Wednesday, July 31, 2002: 10:35 (relative)
Mangione system,
Ngthsestr, Flight deck:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

"Mangione approach, this is Ngthsestr, please hold for our Captain," A'nore told the comm screen, then touched the intercom, "Captain, approach control wants to speak to you." A minute later, Yael entered, taking her seat. "Captain, approach control wants to know where we need to go."

"Put them on, please," Yael replied, deploying a screen from her chair's arm. A small inset showed her own face, she smiled at the slave's face on the screen. "Hello, I'm Captain Miller. We need to get some equipment installed, we have a contract as a mail boat. We also need a paint job, we should have an account here with Lantern Bank."

"Yes, mistress," the Approach Control slave said, and looked off at her screen. "Dirtside, I can reserve a bay for you, that should take no longer than a standard week. You can make arrangements with the local Portmaster, there are a number of recommended firms."

"Excellent," Yael said with a smile. "This is my first visit here, are there any particular social rules or customs I need to know about?"

"Your slaves need to be clothed, but a tunic like your slave is wearing is acceptable, mistress. Aside from that, they need to wear a locked tag with your bay number. This can be wrist, a neck ring, or from a leash or collar, there is a nightly curfew for slaves, but they are also allowed to handle tungsten and purchase items with your permission. The Portmaster will discuss that with you. Also, bribery is frowned upon, the price stated is the going rate, there is no negotiation or 'gifts' to officials." She smiled, "Was there anything else, mistress?"

"No, that should cover it, thank you."

"Yes, mistress," and she tapped her keyboard. "You are assigned bay 1106, take entry course 34. Would you like to be connected to Lantern Bank at this time?"

"Yes, thank you, you've been very helpful." The slave girl disappeared, and a dark-collared girl appeared after a moment, "Lantern Bank Ship Services, how may I assist?"

"I should have an account set up here, under the Terran Empire, I have a letter of introduction," Yael started.

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

Aligning the marks on the bay walls, the Ngthsestr settled into place, and a local slave darted from behind the safety line to connect the umbilicals. "Finished with engines, on local power, mistress," A'nore said as her status lights changed.

"Good. A'nore, will we have problems regarding your running away?"

"No, mistress," the hotheaded girl replied. "I can live with wearing a tag for a week. Will we be permitted to handle tungsten?"

"For now," Yael replied. "I'm curious as to what you'll buy, but let's talk to the Portmaster first."

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

"Thank you," Yael told the Portmaster, a taller, dusky skinned being with a bald head and small tentacles where his mustache would normally be. Her five slaves knelt in a line, metal tags hanging from their collars with different colored inserts in the bottom of each tag. "Two last items, I want to remove the one slave's mask, and can you recommend an inexpensive hotel?"

"A slave house will remove it for a gram or two," he semi-gargled, the tentacles waving. "Three squares north, two east is the closest. For the hotel, do you wish the slaves in a cell or a room?"

"A room, please. It is past meal-time for us, does it have a good place to eat?"

"It does," he gargled. "Go two more squares north from the slave house. Do you wish my slave to make a call for you?"

"That would be wonderful," Yael said with a smile.

***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***
Wednesday, July 31, 2002: 22:55 (GMT)
Terran system, L5 orbital yards:
***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***---***

The light cruiser slowly approached the unfinished dock, assisted by small orbital tugs. Tractor beams nudged it here and there, electromagnets locked on. An aluminum and plastic gangway was secured in place, the flares of reaction jets from work pods and suits already approaching the light blue ship.

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"Good to see you, son," the L5 commander said. "We'll do the formal debrief later, but sit down and have a drink first, you're home."

"Yes, sir," the young Taiwanese commander said. "It was somewhat nerve-wracking. We had to present the appearance of full functionality, but when the Wisdom pulled away from that station, she popped rivets all over the ship." He shook his head and accepted the British officer's tea, taking a sip. "Why in god's name they riveted the ship together, instead of welding her sections, I have no idea. We put on the performance of continual training, weapon drills, which explained our on-screen personnel constantly wearing vacuum suits. Inside the ship, we just ran boarding tunnels down the main passageways, and caulked every seam we could get to." He eyed the tea, "It needs something..."

"Reinforcement?" the older man chuckled, offering a bottle. "Single-malt?"

"That will do, sir," adding a healthy drop or three to his tea. His superior did the same, adding as he put away the bottle, "Our boffins are already downloading the contents of the main computers, but in general, what can you tell me?"

"That would have been a good ship if the Elders weren't using a political command structure. Their commander was a relative of Elder Paavue, his primary concern was looking good." He shook his head again, "When a warship's Chief Engineer has to strip parts from the weapons to keep life support running, and has to horse-trade for food with the station, that's a sad state of affairs. The station essentially surrendered so they could eat, supplies were held up until political affairs were favorable to Elder Paavue."

"Let's move on, then. What about the possibility of settlement, we've gotten some emails, but nothing in the last week or so."

"Well, we landed, everything seemed to be going well, then the Blacks, the Council Guard I mean, apparently received orders from Elder Paavue to arrest Miss Wayne and Mr. Morton. I never did find out how they knew about them, but the Blacks said that if we co-operated, they would consider returning their bodies." He gave a snorting laugh, and took another sip of his reinforced tea. "I would not want to fight Miss Wayne, she looks harmless enough, but she's a hell of a martial artist. Anyway, the score there was one dead Black, and it kicked off a small war." He took another sip, and then shifted in his seat, "Sir, Paavue apparently issued orders, expecting us to simply march up and put our heads in the noose for him. He never changed orders to his troops, and they were not allowed any sort of tactical flexibility. They would try to kick down the doors and arrest us, we would trank them and ship them off to a prison camp. It got down to a street battle in High Town, the remaining Blacks tried a house-to-house search, but they were very poorly trained. For decades, they had gotten used to no resistance, acting like an occupying army, just taking what they wanted. Free meals, drinks, slaves, whatever."

"This final battle?"

"The Guard pulled out their surprise weapons, a magazine fed crossbow and a man-portable flamethrower. Our sniper took out the crossbow with one round from his Barrett, but Miss Wayne tried to talk the girl, the Black, wearing the flamethrower to disarm, but she failed, Paavue butted in, and she was shot when she aimed at Miss Wayne." He took another gulp from the tea, "The final score was two dead Blacks, no casualties on our side." Shaking his head, "From what I saw, even when his final bodyguard was disarmed, Paavue still expected Miss Wayne to surrender to him. She's standing there with a bloody katana at his throat, his bodyguard is lying on the ground with her hands on her head, and Paavue is still arrogant enough to expect her to surrender; to submit as his slave."

"He does seem somewhat disconnected from reality," the Commander agreed. "What about the katana?"

"She cut off a Black's hand that was aiming a gun at Mr. Morton," the young officer replied. "On the run, just 'flick' and the Black's hand above her wrist is cut off. I understand we're regrowing it now, but the Blacks only got about fifteen minutes of training on those needle-guns several years ago. It's no wonder they didn't remember anything about using them." He shook his head, "To say the Council Guard was poorly trained and lead is an understatement, sir."

"Well, we'll go into that in more detail later. What about the colony sites?"

"When we left, the first half-dozen or so, the more northerly ones were pretty much built out, ahead of the planetary winter, sir. We brought photos, maps, and that kind of thing. We've also got weather and comm satellites in place, and..."