They hailed me enthusiastically. "Vera, welcome back! Beautiful ship you brought. Hey, your hair: you look like a kid again. No more scars! Are you going to challenge Naomi?" Somehow everyone else shut up in time for this question to stand out like a band instrument taking the wrong repeat. They were all eyeing me expectantly. I threw my head back with a short laugh. "I'm still the leader of this gang." To lend point to the declaration I cracked the coils of my python whip, flooring but not badly hurting a young recruit rushing up the tunnel to meet us. The girl shrieked. "Wow!" one senior exclaimed. "A showdown between two leaders! That's never happened before. This is going to be interesting." We helped the recruit to her feet. She limped along but knew better than to reveal her pain. "Girls," she said, gasping, "Naomi has called a formation! Hurry!" The words were hardly out of her mouth when the formation alarm reverberated in the passageway. That gave everybody just thirty seconds to line up with their units in the assembly hall, and my escort of girls plunged on ahead of me. When I reached the great spiral-shaped hall at my own more deliberate pace, the gang already stood in formation. * * * * * I paused at the entrance, for this is always an impressive moment on barren Callisto. The hall was a natural cavity half a mile deep, palely illuminated by the artificial sun hanging from a ceiling stalactite. The place was warm and moist-smelling like a greenhouse. Generations of girls before us had gradually modified the rock interior with hand blasters, carving out a series of broad, steplike plateaus along one rim. On each level a unit kneeled at attention on one knee, forming a circle around their respective hussies (our term for captain) who stood rigidly erect holding a green nuclear torch, emblem of our gang. To me it was a beautiful sight, especially the raising of the degravity dais. Up, out of the verdant depths of the cave, overgrown with Earth-style trees and tropical foliage, rose the great ceremonial platform reserved for the gangleader and her administrative aides. As this cleared the rim and stabilized in midair, Naomi became visible to all and a raucous female cheer went up from the ranks. Jeanette, my former protocol officer, stepped forward waving the 'parade rest' command. She was a tall lanky farm girl with lots of common sense, and evidently she'd been promoted to second in command.