Free By Force of Arms by William C. Dietz Page A

radioactive slag, made no difference whatsoever. This was unjust, this was unfair, this must end.
    The Victory’s cavernous landing bay swallowed the Mercury as if she were little more than a snack. ChienChu watched with considerable interest as the packet ship followed a bright orange robodrone down the center of a blastscarred deck and toward the area reserved for transient vessels. Here was a significant portion of the Confederacy’s remaining strength, resident in row after row of sleek two-seat fighters and squadrons of boxy assault vessels. None of which could be used against the Sheen lest the genie escape. Who was truly captive? The industrialist wondered. The Hudathans? Or the forces left to watch them?
    There was a noticeable bump as the packet ship touched down. All manner of maintenance droids, robo hoses and other automated equipment rolled, slithered, and swung into action. The Mercury would be refueled, provisioned, and relaunched in less than six hours.
    DomaSa struggled into some standard issue Hudathan space armor. ChienChu thanked the Mercury’s four person crew and hauled his duffel bag to the lock. It took three minutes to cycle through.
    Self-propelled stairs stood waiting, along with a spacesuited lieutenant commander and two ratings. She saluted, and her voice came over ChienChu’s onboard multi-freq corn unit. “Welcome aboard. Admiral. My name is Nidifer. We received orders to dispense with the side party. I hope that was correct.”
    ChienChu returned the salute and smiled. “Yes, thank you. Your people have enough to do… Let’s save the ceremony for real admirals Please allow me to introduce Ambassador Hiween DomaSa.”
    The naval officer bowed to the extent that the space armor would allow her to do so. “Welcome aboard. Ambassador. My name is Nidifer, Lieutenant Commander Nidifer. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please follow me.”
    It took the better part of fifteen minutes to cross the busy flight deck, enter the VIP lock, and cycle through. The Victory’s commanding officer was waiting to greet them. He was tall and thin, and looked like a skeleton brought to life. He was the real thing, meaning an officer who had graduated from the academy, and wore two stars. His hand was hard and bony. “Admiral ChienChu … Ambassador DomaSa… welcome aboard. Admiral Kagan at your service. Sorry I wasn’t there to greet you … but one of our shuttles lost power. A tug is bringing her in. I thought we’d give you a chance to stow your gear and gather in my cabin. Sound okay to you?”
    The visitors assured him that it did. and little more than thirty minutes later the visitors arrived in Kagan’s cabin. The Victory was considered a hardship post, which meant that extra money had been spent to make the ship more livable. Wood paneling lined the bulkheads, backlit shelving held some of the art objects the naval officer had collected during his years of service, and the furniture was worn but comfortable. The admiral gestured toward some chairs. “Please, have a seat.”
    DomaSa chose a chair backed by a bulkhead, knew it had been placed there for his comfort, and felt a little better.
    Refreshments were offered, both guests refused, and Kagan looked from one to the other. He was curious and let it show. “So? What can I do for you?”
    ChienChu gestured toward the planet that hung beyond the view port. “First we’d like a briefing, you know, surface conditions, intel reports, whatever you’ve got. Then we’ll need some transport.” He looked at DomaSa. ‘That should cover it.”
    Kagan felt a rising sense of anger and fought to control it. Here he was, sitting on what amounted to a time bomb, while some half-baked has been thought up ways to waste his resources. But the bastard had pull, the kind of gees that could crush a there two-star, and the officer forced a smile. “Yes, of course. I’ll arrange for the briefing. But that’s as far as I can go. The ambassador isn’t cleared