Ron Hubbell gazed at the proud college crest on the wall, his eyes unmoving as he wrestled with one of the most difficult decisions he’d ever had to make in his teaching career. The soldier was considering a cold blooded move, to stack the odds in favour of his senior students, but could he justify it, even to himself, and thus carry it out. There was no problem with the board of governors, they’d practically given him carte blanche to do as he saw fit, so long as it benefited the students. Unlike most civilians they were well aware of what was coming and were willing to do whatever they could slow it down.

As headmaster of a college he had an automatic responsibility for the welfare and development of his students. When that responsibility was put alongside the fact that he was Commandant of a military college, which prepared young men, and women now, for life in the armed forces, that responsibility took on a special meaning.

All of that had been true before the advent of the Sa’arm, now it was the over-riding imperative.

Since contact with the Confederacy and the warning of the approaching Swarm things had become fraught. Every student over the age of fourteen had been put through CAP testing and, as expected, every senior classman with a CAP score higher than the minimum six point five had volunteered for service in the Confederacy Defence Forces. That had also been the beginning of the headmasters dilemma.

In the months since the screening of Average Joe’s XIV, which had been picked up by the local satellite company and distributed through pay per view, and more importantly since series XV, the expectation had been there that those with high CAP scores would be extracted and put to use by the Confederacy.

Research Ron had carried out recently had shown that extractions tended to happen in small establishments, which offered a good mix of volunteers and, for want of a better term, drones. His classes, especially the current senior class was high on volunteers and low on potential drone material. At the present time, using the accepted selection standards, his senior class, with its ten volunteers, was entitled to forty two drones. A figure that was not achievable if extraction happened during class time. To make matters worse extraction rates were on the increase.

Ron Hubbell had a solution in mind, a fairly radical solution really, but it was the dilemma of whether it was morally acceptable or not that was holding him back. Could he ask others, with similar responsibilities to his own, to put their charges up for selection, just to improve the odds that his students would be extracted.

Making the decision, tough as it had been, he squared his shoulders and reached for the telephone.

“Margaret, would you get me the head mistress of Saint Genevieve’s please.”

The St. Genevieve School for Young Ladies was a private residential school established in the pleasant grounds of what had once been an Abbey. The school had developed a reputation for taking the more rebellious children of the well to do and maturing them into something there parents found more presentable. As a by product of this transformation the girls received a very good education, which many parents accepted as an unavoidable consequence of bringing their child back under their control.

Everyone at the school had undergone CAP testing in the last six months as part of Her Majesty’s Governments much modified education plans. This testing had been available but largely ignored by the students in St. Genevieve’s as being beneath them, upbringing, class and financial resources being a more relevant measure of ones place in the world. Only the compulsion placed on the college had forced the students to submit and carry out the task. In a surprising move, at least to the majority of the staff anyway, each of the students that had exceeded the minimum acceptance CAP score of six point five had volunteered for service in the Confederate Defence Forces. In many ways this was seen as a failure by the staff of the school who were predominantly nuns.

Sister Anna was the Mother Superior of the school and, after many lengthy discussions with her bishop, was coming to realise that she, and the rest of her staff, may have been just a little bit out of step with the rest of the country, if not the world. The change in attitudes that had occurred after the revelation that the planet was to be invaded had been slow to filter through to the religious community, especially those in more sheltered localities, like St. Genevieve’s.

The bishop had given the Mother Superior details, which where frankly shocking, of what was happening in the world at large. To her, it appeared that morality, especially where sex was concerned had gone out of the window. Some of the things the bishop described to her that occurred during one of these extractions beggared belief. The wanton debauchery was more reminiscent of the actions in Nazi Germany than the behaviour of any civilised peoples.

The bishop had gone on to explain to her that the Pope, with the full backing of the Council of Cardinals, had issued an instruction that required all members of the clergy, whatever their position or role to, quote, ‘do their utmost to ensure that as many as possible of the faithful where extracted’. He’d gone on to explain that this was considered the best method for ensuring that the Catholic church continued.

How she was to achieve that, Sister Anna didn’t know, so she’d consulted with several members of staff and prayed hard for some sort of guidance. For more than a month now she’d been coming back to this dilemma and making no progress. Her thoughts, this time, were interrupted by the shrill tones of her telephone.

“Sister Anna?”

“Yes, Sister Rebecca.”

“Colonel Hubbell, the Commandant from the Military College, would like to speak to you.”

Now what on Earth could that man want, she thought. “Put him through Sister, put him through.”

Don Bradwell, who moments before had been making his way back to his office for a well earned break, forced his way between the two girls and physically pushed them apart. It was all right for the mandarins in the Education department to dictate that you could not use physical means to control pupils but they should try working on the front lines. Let them come to down to his school and show how they’d manage to resolve half the problems he had without resorting to physical means.

“Stop! Now!” He commanded, raising a palm to each of the girls. He looked them over, Bethany Williams, again, well, no surprises there, and Mandy Simpson, now that was a surprise, but not to much of one, she’d been coming out of her shell ever since her CAP score had been announced. Going from dormouse to top of the pile had been a meteoric rise, especially for a fifteen year old girl who had, until recently, no claims to be top at anything.

“So, what was the problem this time?” He asked, not really expecting any sort of coherent answer.

“Nothing Sir,” replied Bethany, her eyes down cast, attempting to look innocent and failing, as usual.

Don turned to face the other girl, “Mandy?”

“Bethany accused me of cheating on the CAP test, Sir. I just pointed out that the tests were impossible to cheat on and even she should be able to figure that out.” You could hear the gloating edge to her voice even when she was trying to be civil.

Don winced, Bethany was a big, solid girl and a bully too but she wasn’t the brightest spark in the school, as her CAP score showed, but even she would recognise an insult like that, when she heard it. Don noticed Bethany starting to flare up, “That’s true,” he said turning back to Bethany, “the CAP tests are administered by the AI’s the Darjee provided and as such are impartial.”

Bethany looked down, acting subdued, but Don knew it was just an act. As soon as he was out of sight it would all kick off again unless he did something to separate the two girls and, as usual, it was easier to move the good girl rather than contain the bad one.

“Mandy, go and see Ms. Helmson and see if she needs any assistance with the first years.”

“Yes Sir,” she said turning away, but only after giving him a look that he would normally have expected from Bethany. Things had definitely changed since the Swarm had made it’s presence known and not always for the better.

“Now then Bethany, what...”

“Mr Bradwell,” his train of thought was broken as his secretary, Kerry Sage called from the office door, “Phone.”

This had better be important, he thought, “I’ll see you later Bethany, see if you can stay out of trouble till then, please,” he said almost pleading before heading for his office.

Kerry was waiting as he entered the office, “It’s Colonel Hubbell, from that posh Military College, he wants to speak to you, says it’s important.”

Now what could he want that would be important to the Upper Lea Girls School, thought Don as he reached for the phone.

As the car pulled to a halt, a soldier stepped forward smartly and opened the rear door, standing well clear so that the passenger could vacate her seat easily. Sister Anna stepped out, her habit not the problem it had been thirty years before, and looked the young man over and realised that he wasn’t a soldier at all, he was one of the students, or cadets as they were called. He couldn’t have been any older than thirteen, she thought, though his uniform and bearing made him seem older.

She turned her head towards the main entrance of the college, its arched door way surmounted by some sort of military crest and looked straight into the eyes of a woman. The grey uniform, immaculate in turnout, indicated another of the cadets.

“Ma’am, I am Cadet Major Loraine Bullock, I’ve been instructed to escort you to the Commandants office.”

Sister Anna was pleasantly surprised at the soft tones the young lady had used. She’d been expecting some sort of bellowing from all of these military types.

“This way please, Ma’am.” The young lady led the way up the short flight of steps and through the imposing entrance. Sister Anna, after a quick look around the hall questioned her guide, “Tell me dear,” she asked, “what does your rank signify?”

The young lady didn’t miss a step, “Within the college each class is made up of cadets, within each class those cadets who are given special responsibilities are promoted. In the first year the class senior is a sergeant, his deputy a corporal. Up until the senior year the highest rank a cadet can achieve is lieutenant, and as such he, or she, is responsible for the well being and behaviour of the cadets in that year. The cadets in the senior year can be tasked with looking after a particular year, as Captains or become the equivalent of head boy or girl, the person holding that position is the Colonel of Cadets.”

“So what would that make you, dear?”

“As a Major I’m the second highest ranked cadet, call it the same as Deputy Head Girl,” the girl smiled at Sister Anna, before continuing, “but probably with a lot more responsibilities and power than she would have.”

Before Sister Anna could respond, the cadet drew the pair of them to a halt before an oak door. She rapped on the door frame, the sound loud in the stillness of the corridor. Without waiting for a response she opened the door and stepped through. As Sister Anna entered Major Bullock announced, in a much firmer voice than she’d used so far, “Sir, Sister Anna.”

The man in uniform behind the desk rose, as did another man, this one in civilian clothes. The second man had been in a seat facing the soldiers desk. “Thank you, Major, that will be all.”

“Yes, thank you.” Parroted Sister Anna as the cadet withdrew.

The uniformed man came around his desk and put forward his hand in greeting. “Sister Anna, I’m Ron Hubbell, the Commandant of this college.” He indicated the other gentleman, “and this is Don Bradwell, who’s the headmaster of the Upper Lea Girls School.”

“Gentlemen.” She acknowledged.

“Please take a seat,” Ron said, indicating an empty seat next to Don Bradwell.

Once everyone had taken a seat Ron looked at the other two heads and began his sales pitch.

It took the best part of four hours to hammer out an agreement. The fact that they’d needed one had been accepted within the first hour, swung by the inside information that Ron Hubbell had been made privy to by a former military comrade who now operated one of the extraction teams.

The hard part had been thrashing out the details required to implement the agreement to everyone’s satisfaction.

Ron Hubbell rocked back in his chair and looked at his two accomplices and took a deep breath. “So, just to summarise. We agree that the two senior classes from both of you establishments will join with my senior class for the remainder of their time in college.”

He paused, awaiting confirmation. Once he’d received it he continued, “The students will be split into four equal classes, each class to have, as far as is possible, an equal number of volunteers.” This had been a difficult part of the deal and Sister Anna had agreed only after Don Bradwells suggestion that volunteers from his school were placed in the classes from Sister Anna’s college, to avoid any chance of students enacting some sort of revenge. The memory of Mandy and Betheny scuffling in the yard had been the impetuous for his recommendation.

“Finally each of your schools will provide three members of staff to assist in instruction for those classes where this college is understaffed.” Which, thought Ron, is a polite way of saying that they will provide cookery teachers as we soldiers don’t have that particular skill.

“That seems to be all of it. All we have to do now is get it all arranged by a week on Monday and try not to fall flat on our faces when we start.” He concluded.

Don piped up, “Hopefully we can avoid any press coverage, I can just see how that would go over.”

“True, headlines like ‘Nuns provide Nookie for Soldiers’ would be a bit hard to explain to the bishop.” Said Sister Anna.

Ron barely managed to suppress a grin before he asked, “Even after the Papal directive you told us about?”

“I think so,” she replied, “I get a definite impression that our aim is not to change our position, in public, that the sanctity of marriage is paramount and anything that undermines that is abhorrent. In private, probably guided by the Jesuits, who are a very practical people, it’s probably been accepted that we need to get as many people off the planet as possible and any way of doing it is to be used. Preferably, as Don said, without a blaze of publicity.”

“Sister Anna, would you care to join us in a glass of wine?” Asked the Commandant as he rose and moved across the room.

“Oh yes, there is nothing in our vows that denies us a drink and I think the three of us have earned one.”

As Ron poured Don got a puzzled look and after a moments thought asked, “What are we going to tell the kids?”

Ron handed around the glass before answering, “I’d thought to tell them the truth but decided that would be a bit brutal and I sort of figured that those who’d volunteered would figure it out for themselves. So, I suggest that we put it across as a means of making the best use of our limited teaching resources. They’ve all seen the number of teachers who have left for one reason or another.”

With a muttering of ‘yes’ and ‘true’ the three heads raised their glasses and gave their blessings to the next generation.

There were four coaches parked outside the gymnasium as the upper classmen made their way down the road towards it. As seniors they no longer had to move around the campus in formation which was one thing they were all glad of.

The lead group of cadets consisted of Loraine Bullock, the Major who had escorted Sister Anna, Alexander Flowers, the Colonel of Cadets and two of the year Captains, Maxine McMillan who looked after the third years and Gerard Gilmore, in charge of the fourth years.

“That one belongs to that church school, St. Genevieve’s.” Observed Gerry as they approached.

“Yes, and there’s a sign on the nearest one for Upper Lea Girls School, what’s this all about?” Asked Maxine, looking towards Alex.

Alex glanced over at Loraine, who nodded in agreement, “Listen up,” he began, slowing his walk to give himself time, “A couple of weeks ago the Commandant had a meeting with the heads of St. Genevieve’s and Upper Lea, Lorraine escorted the heads to the Commandants office. My guess, looking at those coaches, is that this is the result of that meeting.”

“OK,” said Maxine, “but what does it actually mean for us?”

“Well, my thoughts, and it really is only a guess,” replied Alex, “is that we are about to be separated...”

“No way,” burst out Gerry.

“Yes, way,” said Alex holding up a hand for silence. “I’m guessing that the Commandant has come up with a way to improve our chances of getting extracted. To do that he needs to get us into a position where we are surrounded by enough people to make up our extended families, and that generally means a supply of girls. Sorry Loraine, Maxine.”

“You don’t need to apologise for telling the truth Alex. And remember guys, the only reason we aren’t being followed around like some people out there are,” Loraine waved a hand in the direction of the school gates, “is because there hasn’t been a major extraction of school kids. Yes some have been picked up but the target has always been adults. That has got to change, you know it, I know it and now it appears a lot of other people know it.”

“Amen,” responded Maxine.

“There’s no way that they’re just going to announce, ‘Hi everyone, these are the volunteers and you’re the cattle,’ there’d be a riot.” Said Gerry.

“It’ll be interesting to see what excuse they come up with,” said Alex, “but believe me, that’s all it will be, an excuse, if you’re going to feel sorry for anyone, think of those girls who really are being led to the slaughter.”

Loraine looked around before speaking, “This is going to be hard, especially for you guys, but grit your teeth. In the long run all of our futures depend on this going right.”

“Too true,” said Alex. “So lets get our shit together and make like the soldiers we are.”

Gerry looked around before speaking, “Well that went about how we expected after what Alex said.”

“True.” Replied Maxine, “I even liked the excuse they came up with for joining the classes together.”

“Don’t get too smug Max. Did you see the look that Sister Anna wore when that announcement was made.” Loraine continued, “Anyone would think that she was sending her sweet little things off to confront a ravaging horde.”

“How else would you describe these guys?” Asked Maxine tapping Gerry on the shoulder.

“At least we’ve got them house trained.” Commented Loraine, with a smile.

“Why, thank you fair maiden.” Said Alex. “Now that you’ve had your fun we need to get the rest of the class sorted. Gerry, can you go find the new class lists, I think Ms McKay will have them. The rest of us will get started on sorting people out and, as the Commandant said, guiding them around.”

“Yes Colonel,” responded Gerry, before saluting and heading off.

“Loraine, grab the other girls and see if you can keep this lot,” he waved his arm to indicate the crowd of girls, who were starting to mill around, “from straying to far.”

“Yes Colonel, Come on Max.” With quick salutes the two girls moved off to carry out their orders. Several of the visiting girls sniggered as they watched the cadets performing.

Alex moved towards the stage, collecting as many of the upper classmen as he could on the way. As he moved through the crowd he was surprised at the mix of girls he saw. The two schools were easy to separate, after all, the Catholic girls were all in the same uniform, a white blouse worn under a bottle green blazer, with a matching skirt and sensible black shoes. The other girls were in anything from jeans to mini skirts and trainers to high heels.

Alex flicked the switch on the lectern that activated the microphones and, dispensing with the traditional count of one, two, three, spoke clearly, “Ladies, may I have your attention.”

He paused, waiting for the hubbub to subside. “Thank you, I am Alexander Flowers, I am the Colonel of Cadets and I’d like to bid you all welcome to my college. In a short while we will split up into the four classes, just as we were told and then begin the task of getting to know each other. The cadets in your new class will then begin a tour of the campus, if you have any questions feel free to ask them as you make your way around.”

He paused for a moment and somebody called out, “Do we get to wear a pretty uniform?”

Alex smiled in response, “Only if you want to, ask one of the boys I’m sure he would oblige.” Giggling and a fair few blushes greeted his answer. “Seriously, I know this has all been a bit rushed but if we want it to work we must be prepared for a little give and take. So lets all do our best to get along and get the most out of it we can.”

Whilst he’d been talking he’d noticed that Gerry had returned with several sheets of paper flapping in his hand. He turned from the microphone and called across the stage to one of the other cadets, “Doug, grab those lists off Gerry and come read them out.”

Turning back to the microphone he introduced the cadet, “This is Major Doug Rutledge, he’s got the class lists. How we’ll do this is for the first class to line up on that wall,” he indicated the wall to his left, “the next class on the back wall, the third class on this wall,” again he indicated with his hand, “and the last class can fall in down in front of the stage.”

“When he calls out your name please move promptly. Doug.”

Doug stepped up to the mike as Alex moved away and began the roll call, “Class One, Bullock, Loraine”

“Sir.” Came echoing back from the hall.

“Brant, Anthony.”

“Sir.”

The roll call went on for some time and the responses from some of the students were not as sharp as those of the cadet who were used to this sort of thing but they all appeared to get there in the end.

What followed was three hours of bedlam as far as the cadets were concerned They where run ragged keeping the various groups of girls from going astray as they travelled around the extensive grounds of the college. Finally as the last of the girls climbed onto their buses to go home the cadets let go a huge collective sigh of relief.

“Thank God that’s over,” breathed the normally quiet Anthony Brant.

“Harder than your first years?” Asked Maxine.

“Hell yes, at least they understand instructions. I swear some of those creatures were just out to get on my nerves.”

“I’m sure they were Tony, and we’ll have to go through the same thing again tomorrow. Just do your best and if you need help ask. If needs be I’ll draft in the fourth years as minders.”

Alex last comment was greeted with relief more than anything else.

“Anyway, we’ve all got to prepare for classes tomorrow so don’t stay up to late.” He said. “I’d also like to see the command staff in my room after dinner.”

A flurry of Sirs greeted his announcement and then the upper classmen head back to their rooms to relax before they had to prepare for another, they were sure, torrid day.

Alex Flowers didn’t bother going to dinner. After his brief conversation with the Commandant he didn’t feel up to facing food, or the curious questions from the other cadets. Instead he headed back to his suite of rooms, the main perk of reaching the top of the cadet pile, to do some serious thinking.

His suite consisted of a small bedroom, a bathroom and a living area. Crammed into this space was his desk, with its obligatory computer, a sideboard and a couch with two armchairs. He dropped into his favourite chair, tossed his hat onto the sideboard and put his feet up on the convenient coffee table.

The problem he had was simple enough, was he reading too much into what the Commandant had said.

The way the Commandant had phrased his dismissal, ‘the senior classes are your responsibility, and yours alone. Their future is in your hands,’ implied a lot more than just the rest of the academic year. For a start it seemed to confirm the suspicion that he and Loraine had had concerning its purpose. It also implied that he, the Commandant, didn’t expect to get picked up with them if they were extracted.

Was this really the case? If so, what did he plan on doing about it? These where some of the questions he wrestled with as he waited for the rest of the senior cadets to arrive.

For the next hour his thoughts bounced from one extreme to the other before slowly settling down and allowing him to come up with the outlines of a plan. More a search for ideas and some basic principles than something a strategist would consider optimum, but it was the best he could do in the little time he had available.

He was mentally assigning tasks when he was jolted back to the here and now by a sharp rapping on his door. He glanced at the clock hung on the wall and was surprised to see that it had reached eight thirty. He let out a yell, “Come.”

First through the door was Doug Rutledge, followed in seniority by Loraine Bullock, Anthony Brant, Jeri Burt, Maxine McMillan and Gerard Gilmore. Alex smiled to himself as he realised that they’d probably done that without even thinking about it. Military protocol just seemed to get into your blood.

“OK, this is basically a bull session, so grab a seat and relax.” He waited as everyone found a place to sit before speaking up. “I’m sure that you’ve all got thoughts on what’s happening around here,” he paused as series of nods and muttered ‘yeahs’ flowed around the group. “So do I.”

“What I’m going to do is give you my thoughts on what’s happening, then we’ll see what everyone else thinks and more importantly, decide what we are going to do.”

“OK, a review of the facts. Three and a half years ago first contact was made with the Confederacy and, at the same time, the approach of the Sa’arm was explained. This led, after eighteen months, to the Average Joe TV series and a mix of announcements, such as CAP testing, first contact and the idea of extraction.”

“For the past two years extractions have been going on, usually in small groups and predominantly of adults. Which brings us to the here and now and what has been happening around us.”

Alex paused to look around, ensuring that everyone was still paying attention. “We have suddenly been joined by four times our numbers of girls, girls being the one thing that this college is short of. As I said earlier, on the way to the gym, I think this is a deliberate ploy, by the three heads, to get as many of their kids, including us, into a position where they can escape Earth. I will say that I believe that the initial idea came from the Commandant, but that is just my belief.”

“I tried to broach this whole idea with the Commandant earlier and was told, in no uncertain terms, that the senior year was my problem, deal with it. he wouldn’t say anything else on the subject no matter what I tried.”

Alex too a deep breath, “Right, that is where I believe we are. So does anyone fundamentally disagree with me, if so speak up, you never know, I may be missing something glaringly obvious.”

The cadets looked around, their faces reflecting their thoughts clearly. No one here could see anything wrong with his reasoning.

“OK, that’s what I suspected. That leads on to the second part. What do we do about it?”

Alex waited to see if anyone wanted to take the lead, when nobody did he spoke up.

“Uhmm, I have an idea of what I want to achieve, but I’m not certain on the best way to go about it. So, I want everyone of you to consider what I’m going to say and see if you can find ways to improve it. The other thing is, I may be totally off with this, and if I am I need to be told that as well. OK?

He was again greeted by a series of nods.

“I don’t know how many of you have given serious thought to the future. Not just the next few years but long term. I think this is why the Commandant has left it to me, I think he believes that one of the classes will be extracted and he wont be there, so we need to make our own decisions, starting now.”

“From this I’ve concluded that we need to start thinking about who our concubines, or slaves, or whatever you want to call them will be.”

That simple statement, a confirmation of what most of them already knew, seemed to strike a physical blow.

Alex waited for the noise to subside, “That, in turn, highlights another problem, does anyone know how many of the girls have volunteered, Doug, Loraine?”

“No.”

“Not a clue.”

“Lets assume that there are three in each class, which would be about average for the general population, then with our female class mates,” he nodded to Loraine and Maxine, “who’ve volunteered we would need sixteen boys just to give each girl a male concubine, which they’d need for breeding purposes. We’ve only got thirteen who haven’t got high enough CAPs to volunteer. Simply put, we don’t have enough boys to go around.”