Free The Unincorporated Woman by Dani Kollin, Eytan Kollin Page B

this to say:
An evil, scheming man has died and we have won a great victory. It is right to celebrate the great achievements that our industry, bravery, and endurance have granted us. I myself plan to get as drunk as a wartime president might be allowed—HOD nearby, of course. The truth is we’ve earned it and I’m proud of all the citizens of the UHF who’ve struggled so hard and lost so much over these past five years. What we’re doing is for the good of the entire human race, and our incorporated system will be preserved for all the children of humanity forevermore. So let us enjoy this time of respite. Just don’t forget that the rebellion Justin Cord inspired is still fighting against the principles of incorporation and humanity. After our brief celebration, we must—we will—finish what they started. Nothing will stand in the way of our ultimate victory.
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    The lab J.D. now viewed was typical of what she’d come to think of as “Alliance practical.” To be Alliance practical, the place or object or person had to follow a couple of simple rules. First, it had to have obviously been something else prior to its current usage: a luxury yacht serving as a hospital ship or a space tug, for instance. Second, it had to be something that only years of warfare would make acceptable, like the use of children in busing tables so the droids normally given the task could be stationed elsewhere in the war effort. And third, the place, object, or person had to really make a lot of sense when viewed through the eyes of the war weary.
    Thus it was that Admiral J. D. Black stood in the luxurious environs of what had once been the finest French restaurant in Ceres and possibly the whole of the Outer Alliance. It had been called La Fontaine Bleue, and was located in the lunar level of Ceres, so called because it was placed far enough from the Via Cereana to give the level a gravity one-sixth that of Earth’s and therefore equal to Earth’s moon, known as Luna. If anyone prior to the war had told her that the restaurant would make a perfect spot for the advanced cryostasis laboratory and research facility, J.D. would have laughed out loud.
    But now she saw the logic in the decision. The restaurant was on a level that would not be getting much use otherwise, as its greatest appeal had been to those from Luna, firmly in the UHF camp. And for obvious reasons, tourism from that region had not been a moneymaker for a number of years. The restaurant’s loss had been the Alliance’s gain. The low gravity made it easier to move equipment and corpses, but without the hassles that came from moving large objects in zero gravity, where things never seemed to stay put unless battened down. The restaurant had been a large three-story affair with lots of separate dining areas for special events and parties, all of which made it easy to turn those cavernous spaces into specialized labs. And because it was already zoned for the highest privacy standards, given its former clientele, it made further securing of the lab quite easy. The former restaurant also had an excellent power transmission and backup system, so that no patron would ever be inconvenienced by the slightest delay in communication or service. The eatery’s new name, Le Cadavre Bleu, was a little morbid, but, mused J.D., that was laboratory techs for you.
    She and Captain Nitelowsen walked down a few corridors, finally ending up in a large conference room much unchanged from the restaurant’s initial setup. The small chamber had apparently been needed for the planning sessions required to host the restaurant’s myriad events. And as no functioning body, both corporeal and corporate, had yet figured out a way to survive without the need for a meeting, the room had stayed mostly untouched. J.D. had called an emergency Cabinet session and arranged for the Unincorporated Woman’s suspension unit to be moved into the room, feeling its presence might in some way influence the