portals. Precisely
positioned, each vessel locked on in turn and
extended ship-to-ship catwalks.

##

The Dragon's conference room hummed with the
murmur of the Dragon's seated guests when Brad
entered and took his seat at the table. Zolan occupied
a seat against the bulkhead behind Brad, adjacent
a glowing view tank.

Scarf was there somewhere along the side, known
and ignored; a security agent to peer over INOR
citizens' shoulders was normal.

Professionals long in their trade, they were battle
cruiser and destroyer flotilla commanders of the
major INOR powers, backed up by their experts
in military intelligence, tactical operations, and
navigation, logistics and internal security. Brad's
measure would be taken quickly, and his influence
and INOR's decisions would depend on their
assessments. He expected no less.

Brad's eyes ranged the table, giving each face
equal time. They returned his scrutiny, casual,
arrogant, challenging. It was his show, and his
reputation.

Brad did not rise to speak.

"I needn't introduce myself," he began. "We've
all done our homework I'm sure, and you know as
much about me as I do about each of you. So, to
business."

Zolan rose, drew an instrumented rod from its niche
at the base of the tank and brought up the quadrant
that depicted the Special Zone. Manipulating keys
along the rod, eyes on the tank, Zolan quickly
brought the Logistics Depot in toward the core
and increased magnification so that it occupied
most of the tank space.

"The objective," Brad said, his voice flat and low.

A long silence, then from the far end of the table,
"What the hell does that mean?"

"Just that. We're going to take it."

A gasp, this time from his left, followed by, "You
guys are out of your minds."

Feet shuffled on the grav-plates. Several among the
seated were arranging themselves to rise and depart.

Brad waited.

The shuffling stopped. They were here to listen,
not to commit.

Brad leaned forward, placed his forearms on the
table, one hand over the other. His steady eyes
moved from one face to the next.

"No," he said, "we're not out of our minds. We can
do it, and our losses can be kept within acceptable
limits if we work together. Furthermore, the Depot
can be taken with minimum damage to its structures
and to its Slingshot stores."

"What's the point?"

Brad looked at the questioner, a big man in a black
and gray uniform and a soft helmet liner perched
on