Ari clutched her case closer as the armored airlock opened. She wanted to shrink back as the hulking forms crowded around her.
     No. I have to give the right example. It was a principle her classes had emphasized. Still, it was one thing to hear in a university classroom. It was another to follow when surrounded by unnaturally large forms.
     The officer on her right waved his hand toward the fully open door. Ari suppressed a shudder as she swam through the airlock into a strange new world. The world of men.
     As she came through, a man put a whistle to his lips and blew a short, warbling tune.  Ari's eyes widened as the crowd shifted abruptly from normal free fall posture to the stiff posture of planet dwellers. Ari paused, her body stiffening in anticipation of gravity's sudden presence.
     It's just a ceremony. With this realization, Ari saw that the men stood in unnaturally even rows. Their postures were even stiffer than the vids of planet dwellers she had seen. Facing her, at the end of the rows, was the oldest man in the room. His posture was as stiff as the others were, but his eyes were alive with calculation.
     He sees me as an equal. This was the most dangerous kind of man in the Cluster. A thousand years ago, every polity in the system had been a matriarchy. Now only the Elvii Republic still was. Hostile patriarchies continually schemed to overthrow the Elvii meritocracy.
     "Welcome to the Implacable," the old man said. He nudged himself forward, mimicking a walking profile in free fall -- a skill that told volumes about his physical abilities. "It has been a number of years since we hosted a woman of your rank, Tribune."
     Ari's mind was on overdrive, calculating the difference between the man's words and his expression. He's giving a prepared speech, which he now believes is inappropriate. Perhaps he's wondering who I am?
     How could a man know enough about government operations to know who the regular tribunes are?
     Out of the corner of her eye, Ari saw her escort officer gesture forward. Taking the hint, Ari swam toward the senior officer. She drew a document from her pocket and offered it to the officer. "My credentials."
     He paused a moment as he unfolded the document. He barely glanced at it, then refolded it. "My compliments to your grandmother," he said as he returned the document. "She was the last passenger to use your quarters. I hope you enjoy your stay with us as she appears to have."
     Ari's grandmother had last been on a ship five years earlier, before her ascension to the position of First Senator. Her timely intervention had seemed to prevent a war. Only those Senators involved intimately with diplomacy -- and now Ari -- realized how slim the peace she had won was.
     "Was her pleasure enhanced by anonymity of those around her?"
     "My apologies, Tribune. I am Captain Hessus, commander of ERS Implacable. May I ask what our destination is?"
     "Later," Ari replied. "As soon as you are ready to sail, accelerate sunward until we are beyond easy detection range."
     "Tribune, our course will be more efficient if we can plot it before departure."
     "Captain, secrecy is more important. Do you need to take on more fuel?"
     The man seemed to recoil. "Tribune, our fuel bunkers are full. Given efficient navigation, we can travel to the three most distant planets without taking on more supplies."
     "I wish an abrupt departure, to a location where it will be difficult to track our course change. When we are there, you will explain why our location is secure. If I am satisfied, I will reveal our destination."
     "What acceleration do you desire, Tribune?"
     "The maximum this ship is capable of."
     A chuckle, quickly suppressed, came from one of the men standing around them like structural beams. Hessus quickly glared at the man then returned his attention to Ari.
     "Tribune, I suggest you settle in your quarters. I expect we will be ready for departure in one hour."
     Ari considered objecting, then decided it would be pointless. I've seen Rema as I departed before. I just haven't gone so far before returning.

     Ari wearily closed the door to her room. She slumped just inside the door, shaking from reaction. I hadn't expected them to be so intimidating.
     It wasn't that she was completely unacquainted with males. All her life, one or two had been around -- a political family tended to accumulate servants and guards. Occasionally, her mother had been so indiscreet as to invite military officers to private dinners.
     This was different. It was one thing for one or two men to be present in a gathering of women. It was something quite different to be the only woman in a ship crewed by thousands of men.
     Ari jerked at a scraping sound. She whirled to see yet another man. This one had the effrontery to handle her clothes.
     "What do you think you're doing?"
     The man snapped to the same formal stance the staff officers had used in the entry passage. "Tribune," he said, "Pilus Milia, reporting!"
     "Reporting what?" Ari asked. "Never mind. What are you doing with my clothes?"
     "Tribune, I have been assigned as your orderly."
     "My what?"
     "Servant."
     Ari took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Whose idea was this?"
     "It is traditional for an orderly to be assigned to a ship's guest. As for why I was assigned . . .I don't know, Tribune."
     Ari suppressed a grin as she looked at Milia again. While they talked, he had drifted until his feet pointed at the corner of the room. "Is it usual for a guest to be assigned a servant?"
     "Tribune, I served as orderly to Proconsul Sapho, on her trip to Tellus five years ago."
     "She's First Senator now."
     A grin tugged the corners of Milia's mouth. "Good. She deserves it."
     Another of Grandmother's fans. How does she cultivate them so easily?
     "Captain Hessus said we will depart in an hour, and suggested I settle in here. Since you're putting my clothes away, what else is there?"
     "Tribune, have you ever traveled in a military spacecraft?"
     "No. Why?"
     "Did he say what acceleration we will use?"
     "I asked for the maximum."
     Milia drew in his breath sharply. When he spoke, his voice seemed unnaturally rushed. "Tribune, are you by any chance a participant in extreme sports? Have you spent a lot of time in centrifuges?"
     "No."
     "Tribune, you are about to be under the most massive acceleration you have ever experienced. It would be a good idea to change into more suitable clothes, and be prone on the bed when we depart."
     "Surely you exaggerate."
     Milia shook his head. "Please trust me, Tribune. If you later decide this was a joke at your expense, you can have me replaced and punished."
     I probably can. I have authority to order this ship wherever I choose, and am accountable only to the Diplomatic Committee or the full Senate.
     And yesterday I was worried about my finals. Oh, how much simpler things were then!
     "Very well. I will take your advice. But don't make me regret this."
     Milia relaxed and turned to Ari's bags. He rummaged for a minute, then pulled out an old, faded jumpsuit. "This would be best, Tribune. It's light, worn enough to be soft, and doesn't have too much metal."
     He handed Ari the jumpsuit and gestured to a closed door. Going in, Ari found herself in a peculiar room. One wall held a familiar toilet and cleanser. Two other walls held unfamiliar devices with the utilitarian look of plumbing.
     Shrugging, Ari closed the door and stripped her shipsuit off. She paused, savoring the pure white color of the garment and its purple decorations at the wrists.
     Captain Hessus saw me wearing it, and read my credentials. He knows, and the rest of the crew knows that any woman has rank. All else is vanity.
     With that thought, Ari reluctantly set the shipsuit aside and pulled on the jumpsuit Milia suggested. She had to pause and exhale to seal it over her chest. If he did this, just to put me in a tight fitting garment . . . Ari paused, wondering what a suitable punishment would be.
     As Ari came out, she saw Milia bending over her document case. "Leave that alone!"
     Milia straightened. "Tribune, I was going to stow it away."
     Ari dove for the case and hugged it to her. "Keep away from this!"
     "All hands, prepare for acceleration. Section chiefs, report when secure."
     Milia grimaced. "Tribune, we have to stow that away."
     "I'm keeping it!"
     Milia sighed. "Very well. If you will lay on the bed, I'll secure you for acceleration."
     Ari swam to the bed and lay against it. Milia pulled straps from its sides and fastened Ari to the bed. When Ari kept the case clutched to her chest, Milia strapped her arms and the case in. Then he went to a chair bolted to one wall and buckled himself in. With one hand, he pressed a button in the arm of the chair.
     "Consular quarters secure for acceleration."
     Ari stared warily at Milia as she waited. He ignored her, looking unapologetically at the wall in front of him.
     After what seemed like hours, Ari heard the distant roar as the engines started. Her body slowly settled to the bed, and the wall that held Milia's chair and Ari's bed suddenly became the floor. After a minute, she felt as heavy as she did in Rema's mild gravity.
     "Is this all there is?" Ari asked, reaching for her strap buckle. "I didn't need to strap in for this."
     "Wait, Tribune," Milia replied. "We haven't peaked yet."
     Ari let her hand fall away as she realized that it seemed heavier than usual. After another minute, she felt heavier than she ever had before. Soon the document case was painfully heavy.
     "How much . . . more?" Ari gasped.
     "We're about halfway there, Tribune," Milia replied. "Is there a problem?"
     "Case," she gasped.
     Milia unbuckled from his seat and stood carefully. He came to Ari's side and unfastened her straps. Then he moved her document case next to her on the bed. He buckled her back in and returned to her seat.
     "Thanks. Isn't that . . . dangerous?"
     "Not yet, Tribune. We're only to about one planetary gravity. We'll peak at about one and three quarters."
     "So much?"
     "The archives say we evolved on a planet whose gravity was more than twice as strong as Tellus'," Milia replied.
     "No. Old men's . . . tales."
     "The Captain says so."
     He quotes Captain Hessus as the final authority. I suppose he is, to a man.
     "I've read . . . archives. Language . . . unclear."
     "So the Captain says. But he says there are unmistakable signs that our race once spanned thousands of systems."
     Ari was having difficulty breathing now. Her chest seemed to be the only thing separating two massively charged plates, and each breath was a struggle against mounting charges.
     "All clear, all clear," the loudspeaker announced. "We have reached peak acceleration. Senior crew are released to normal duties. Junior crew may move carefully, under direction of section chiefs or their designates. Acceleration will continue for four hours."
     Ari stared at the ceiling, struggling to keep breathing. It would be a long four hours.

     Athena stared in disgust at her hand as the medic put his instruments away. Twelve hours after the crash, it was still trembling uncontrollably.
     "You're high on the medevac list, Colonel," the medic said, turning to Athena. "First in line after the life threatening cases."
     "Why?" Athena asked as she looked up at the medic.
     "Your hand. Decompression palsy. Neural damage, and it gets worse until it's treated."
     "What causes it?"
     "I don't know, Colonel. It only happens to a small percentage of troops that survive decompression. In triage courses, all they taught is that we have to evacuate for treatment. I've never actually seen it before."
     Athena stood. "Other than the trembling, does it cause any problems?"
     The medic opened his notebook and scribbled an inquiry. He frowned at the result. "I hate it when they classify medical data."
     "What can you tell me?"
     "Avoid any use of your right arm. Each shake does a tiny but measurable degree of damage to your nerves. Trying to use the hand or arm will multiply the effect. In some cases, sedation slows the rate of progressive damage."
     The medic closed his notebook and tucked it in a pocket. "Your option, Colonel. I do have one of the recommended sedatives on hand."
     "How sedated will it make me?"
     "It'll put you far enough under to perform major surgery."
     "Later, perhaps. I've got something to straighten out first."
     The medic nodded. At her request, he pointed the way to the command post.
     Athena left the aid station, and walked down the indicated corridor. The entire facility had the gritty look of a half built industrial site. The aid station was originally a communal dining hall, with a dozen tables used as beds. The corridors had piping insecurely fastened to the low ceiling. In most space facilities, Athena had to walk stooped; here, she was constantly gauging the height of the pipes just ahead.
     The command post had been planned as a control center of some kind. It had a half finished look: data cables hung from walls and ceilings; consoles awaited their power and data connections; a mainframe cowered against one wall, half its components still in factory boxes.
     Some displays had been set up, however. Those had the squared look of Army field systems, and their cables fed in the door or through ventilation ducts.
     "Just make yourselves at home," Athena said as she walked in. Three soldiers began to stand, but their officer waved them to their seats.
     "What are you doing here, Colonel?" Lieutenant Weisbaum asked. "Shouldn't you be in the infirmary?"
     "Just came from there, Lieutenant. Nothing he can do for me until my number comes up on the medevac lottery. So I thought I'd come here for a nice little chat."
     "If you don't mind, we're a little too busy to entertain noncombatants."
     Quicker than thought, Athena picked the lieutenant up and slammed his back against the low ceiling. "Noncombatants?" she hissed. "My crew is dead and you have the gall to call us noncombatants?"
     Athena turned at a noise, and saw a senior sergeant standing with his sidearm drawn. She released Weisbaum, who twisted to land on his feet.
     "Lieutenant, we are going to talk. If we don't, I'll fire a complaint up my chain of command so fast, it'll hit the Pentagon before it bounces back toward you. And lieutenants who come to the negative attention of service chiefs tend not to become captains."
     Weisbaum shrugged, as if officers senior to him bounced him off the ceiling every day. Maybe they do. The Army is crazy, and Rangers are some of their craziest.
     "What do you want, Colonel?"
     "The truth. You lied to us. You said this was a training mission. I believed the lie. Because I believed it, my entire crew died. Tell me what it was for."
     Weisbaum shrugged. "I'd like to, Colonel. But it's classified."
     "Listen, you little twerp. I was working with Top Secret material while you were learning how to read. I'm the one who found out how the Lunies were finding stealthed spacecraft during the rebellion. I've forgotten more classified material than you've ever been exposed to."
     "Maybe. But you don't have a need to know."
     Athena pinned him to the ceiling again. "I had a need to know!" she roared. "But you people lied! Because of your lie, my people are dead!"
     "Lieutenant," the sergeant with the pistol began, "what could it hurt? It's not like she'll compromise the mission now."
     "Okay." Athena set him gently on his feet. He winced as he rubbed the back of his head. "Anyone ever tell you you're an unusually strong woman?"
     "Didn't have to tell me," Athena replied. "I started out a spacecraft mechanic, wrestling with half ton components. The first rebel I killed got a spear through his space suit. Surprised him."
     Weisbaum eyed Athena more carefully. "I didn't know the Aerospace Force taught that kind of thing."
     "It doesn't. I was improvising. Now let's get back to the subject. What did my people die for?"
     Weisbaum scowled. Then he turned decisively and strode to one of the industrial consoles. This one appeared to be partially set up, but its holoscreen glowed when he pressed the on stud.
     "You know the alien artifacts that University of California has?"
     "A space wreck," Athena replied. "I've seen it. It's bigger than the UC-Orbital habitat, and has holes blasted in it big enough to fly a squadron through."
     "The ship was a troop carrier. Had what looks like an entire corps on board, weapons, vehicles, aircraft, logistical support, the whole thing."
     "What does that have to do with us?"
     Weisbaum pressed another button, and a shriveled corpse that was almost human in appearance filled the screen. The forehead bulged, an effect enhanced by its absolute lack of hair. Tusklike incisors protruded from both jaws and through indentations in lips, reaching from just short of its nose to just short of its chin.
     "So?" Athena asked. "That's one of UC's corpses, that wasn't in a suit when the ship was hit."
     "No," Weisbaum corrected. "That's one of our corpses. It's about half a kilometer below our feet."