At the rest, sheathed in a black metallic leotard, I could only shrug. The airlock opened. Chin uplifted, I strode from my ship with python whip coiled in my hand, steel claws jingling at my waist. My name, in case you're interested, is Vera. * * * * * At the heavily guarded first corridor I was met by Ginger, a fat fog-throated valkyrie who serves as our security officer. "We were almost ready to blast you, my dear. Good thing you signalled when you did." We rapped the knuckles of our clenched fists in greeting. "What's happened in the past week?" I asked. "Kill any more Ios?" Ginger grimaced. "Naw. I shot the arm off one but I don't think he died. Ran into him in an alley in Ganymede City. Imagine that guy! He was trying to steal an air synthesizer I myself had just stolen." The corridor led to the First Hall, a large vestibule bright with luminescent wall paint where eight tunnels branched off into separately hollowed-out caverns in the rocky guts of Callisto. "I'm itching to get back into combat," I said. "What do you say we make a raid on the Io boys tomorrow?" Ginger realized I was testing her loyalty. "I'd like nothing better," she responded heartily. "But of course we'll have to clear it with Naomi first." I stopped abruptly. "Since when?" "Well, Vera, she became leader the day after you fell." "By whose authority?" I said indignantly. "Don't play dumb recruit. You know our system. We had no way of knowing you'd return. Naomi and half a dozen others declared for title, and Naomi won out in a fair gang fight. Just like you did before her." "So it seems we have two leaders now," I said, limbering my python whip. "That's something you and Naomi will have to work out," Ginger intoned. "I'll leave you here to choose your own tunnel." This was part of the ritual of our gang. When a new girl arrived, the tunnel she selected, blindly, determined her branch of service on Callisto. One tunnel led to commissary, another to transport, another to ordnance, another to facilities, and the remaining four to combat training units. A girl had to be rather unlucky to miss out on the fighting branch, but in the other units she at least learned a great deal about thievery, heavy drinking and the use of dope. Knowing where each tunnel led, my present choice was simple: by seven tunnels I could postpone an immediate showdown with Naomi, since these went to barracks and work rooms and supply centers. The eighth tunnel led directly to the great assembly hall and administrative headquarters. There, Naomi would be holding council. This was the tunnel I chose. I was halfway through it when a bunch of the senior gang members met me head on. They were battle-tested gals of seventeen and eighteen with hair waved in the short Grecian style and short sleeveless tunics of green, red, yellow or black, depending on their unit.