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.
"Girls," she said in her steady, emotionless voice, amplified a hundred times by her throat piece projector, "just a brief announcement before we hear from our leader. Yesterday a brawl took place in the Spilka Skating Palace in Ganny City, and one of our girls failed to return. Some of you may remember what a beautiful job Phyllis did of poisoning the Io gang's food shipment a while back, and we think the boys must've found out she was the one. Anyway, they kidnapped her and we have every reason to believe she's being tortured right now in that fort of theirs on Io.
"Let's just assume she'll crack eventually and tell them our code. From now on all external communication will use code O-97, and you new girls will have to see your hussy right after this formation ends if you expect to have it memorized by tomorrow morning."
Jeanette nodded with the barest trace of a sadistic grin as a murmur of consternation rippled through the ranks of our rookies. "That's all from me," she added, "and now here's Naomi."
I hadn't moved from the entrance. Now, as Naomi spoke, I began my calm, unhurried, and, I hoped, supremely dignified march towards the dais.
"Girls, I want to add this to what Jeanette told you," Naomi began. "We're going to revenge this outrageous kidnapping at the earliest possible moment. My staff and I are working countermeasures that will make the Ios rue the day they ever pulled this stunt on one of our girls."
At first, all eyes were centered on Naomi, and no one observed my approach from the rear of the hall. And I don't believe Naomi herself could see me with the lights focussed on her face, though obviously she knew of my arrival. She was a short, shapely sixteen-year-old, full of gestures and animation. She wore her brown hair in bangs, her features forming an attractive oval, her dark eyes flashing with self-assurance. Her clothes were a green version of my own leotards, only tighter. But as usual, claw marks marred her appearance, and it seemed to me even from a distance that she had lost the use of her left eye.