Free Adiamante by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page A

Elanstan, thinking protection even to others, the dark-shield always, the shield to come.
    â€œI’ll take as good a care of this one as the last.”
    I had to grin, since Lieza’s last passenger to Ell Prime had to have been Rhetoral.
    â€œYou can take better care of this one.”
    I grinned at that. Elanstan was somewhat possessive, near the end of the permissible range, since possessive tends to slide into control.
    The net interference faded, and once we cleared the upper atmosphere, Lieza dropped the acceleration and switched the screens.

    The main screen showed a dark blob that would have been hard to pick out had the shape not been enhanced by a soft yellow screen-highlighting. As the image grew, I had to admit, again, that Ell Prime didn’t look impressive—just a three-klick chunk of nickel-iron filled with linked fusactors, shielded enough that the Vereal fleet’s EDIs wouldn’t show more than a satellite power system in operation.
    â€œJust a chunk of iron. Right, Coordinator?”
    â€œAbsolutely. An observational station of no interest whatsoever.” I tried to keep my tone light, since we certainly hoped the power of those shielded fusactors wouldn’t be needed.
    The far left screen, a representational screen, showed Ell Prime and the rest of the orbital asteroid stations in luminous blue, and the twelve orbiting adiamante hulls of the Vereal fleet in brighter green.
    â€œThere they are, our friends the cybs.” Lieza’s hands flicked, although she could have used the net, and the Vereal EDI readings appeared on the far right screen—each ship generating and using more power in hours than a locial used in weeks.
    â€œDo they track you?”
    â€œEvery time.”
    That figured. The cybs were doubtless paranoid and then some, but they’d find little threat in one apparently low-powered asteroid station, or in the apparent navigation beacons on the other asteroid stations. When one sees limited technology in use by a rising power, one assumes greater technology is either reserved for warfare or still being developed, but when one beholds such limited technology in use by a once-great empire, one assumes that greater technology has been lost or abandoned. And that’s usually the case. Usually, but not always.
    The ell station image grew until it filled the screen.
    â€œEll Prime, MagPrime beginning decel and approach.”

    â€œWe’re standing by. Commence approach when ready.”
    Then I was pressed into the couch for what seemed a short eternity, followed by near weightlessness as the magshuttle slid into the locking tube without even a shiver—another advantage of the system—and we eased to a stop smoothly, but all the metal of the asteroid severed my netlinks. The small shuttle shivered with the hiss of forced warm air entering the landing-lock tube.
    â€œBe just a moment, Coordinator,” said Lieza warmly.
    I unfastened my straps and stretched before standing in the enhanced point two gees of the asteroid station and reclaiming my cloak. I just draped it over my arm. Who needed a cloak inside an asteroid station? Getting rid of heat was usually a bigger problem than staying warm.
    â€œAll right,” said Lieza, as she cracked the shuttle’s lock.
    The station air was warm, not unpleasantly so, but warmer than the winter air of Parwon, with the hints of ancient ozone and oil and metal heated and reheated for probably all too long. With the air came a resumption of the netlink, repeated by the ell station.
    â€œHow long will you be?” asked Lieza as she followed me out of the shuttle.
    â€œI don’t know,” I admitted. “Hours. Not more than a day, I’d guess, but that just depends.”
    â€œThen I’ll seal up the shuttle.”
    She linked with the ship’s system, and the hatch slid shut.
    As we turned, Elanstan stepped forward out of the main corridor into the light of the