Flic was painting her toenails. God, life in the colonies was so boring. There were no parties, at least not the kind she would want to be seen at. Bill wasn't even an officer, just a Private. None of the potential officers Daddy had found were suitable for her. Mind you, the officers' parties were probably boring as well. All the officers she'd met so far were much too serious and likely talked too much shop anyway. Like those tedious gatherings Daddy dragged her along to sometimes, when he wanted to show her off to his business friends. Maybe she could tell Denise to lick her pussy to provide some relief from the boredom? Looking down her slim body she could see that the pussy in question was, as usual, perfectly trimmed -- med-tubes did have their uses. Perhaps she could work out on her exercise bike for a bit? Her legs were her best feature, and having them done in a med-tube just didn't pass the time as well as real exercise.
The sound of her sponsor entering the pod interrupted her thoughts. "Flic," Bill called. "I'm back. We need to go out to see someone."
She sighed, it was such a pain being a concubine. Why did she have to score only 5.3 on her CAP test? Daddy had tried of course, but there was no way he could increase her score, or even get the Confederacy to ignore it and make her a sponsor anyway. Still, he had done the next best thing; he had set up a pre-pack for her. Bill, her sponsor, was compliant and Denise, his second concubine, was there to handle all the drudge work in their pod. Daddy was looking after both their families back on Earth, and she messaged him regularly to let him know how things were going. Bill and Denise both knew that a word from her would have repercussions for their families. That kept them both in line, despite her technically being Bill's concubine.
"Do we have to?" she replied, "I'm waiting for my nail varnish to dry." Why did Bill have to ask her to go out at such an inconvenient time?
"I'm sorry Flic, we have to go. Orders."
"Bloody orders," she called to him. "Always interfering with the important stuff." She closed her robe and came out of her room to see Bill. He'd been through the full Marine upgrade so he was two metres tall now. He hadn't changed his appearance much otherwise, still with the same mid-brown hair and permanently bemused look that he had when he was first introduced to her on Earth. At least he'd fixed his eyes so he didn't have to wear those geeky glasses any more. She was glad of that, the geek look most certainly did not suit the image she wanted him to project. He was in his full dress uniform; that was unusual. He looked worried as well, but that wasn't her problem. "Do I need to get into something formal if you're in your full uniform?" she asked.
"Flic, you need to wear one of those grey shifts. They want you dressed as a concubine." Bill looked nervous as he asked her.
"No I will not!" Flic shouted. "Those shifts are hideous. I wouldn't be seen dead in one. It was bad enough being forced to wear one on the voyage here. I'm never ever going to wear one again! Never! Do you hear me William Osbourne?"
Bill flinched. That was just the unfortunate reaction he had expected from her. "It's not me Flic, it's orders. You have to."
Flic launched into another angry tirade as she went back into her room to look for a formal suit to go with his dress uniform. How dare Bill try to tell her what to wear! He had no fashion sense whatsoever. She decided on a white blouse with a conservatively cut dark-green jacket and matching short skirt. There were a few silver details, but not so many as to appear vulgar. Flic would never want to look vulgar. Her legs were her best feature, so she wanted to show them off with the skirt and shoes she had picked. The blouse had a scoop neck, but not so low as to distract from her legs. Details like that were important.
As he was waiting for her to get changed, a voice came through Bill's internal AI link, «Private, this is Centurion Robertson. Give her one more warning about her clothes. If she ignores it then let her come dressed as she wants. I will deal with the problem.»
«Yes, sir, » Bill replied subvocally. That worried him even more, the Centurion was obviously monitoring things personally. That meant trouble, for both himself and for Flic. Officers didn't involve themselves in trivialities. When Flic emerged in her green suit he tried once more, "You really should wear a shift Flic. They don't like concubines disobeying orders."
"I'm not wearing one of those fucking awful grey things for anyone!" she stormed. "End of argument! Let's go and see whoever it is who wants to see us." She couldn't believe that Bill was still pressing the point after she had already told him that she wouldn't wear one of those dowdy shapeless things. What did he take her for?
Bill shrugged and led her out of the pod. She hadn't made a wise decision, but that was down to her. He had tried his best to dissuade her.
When the two of them arrived at the Civil Service reception area, the woman at the desk ignored Flic and just talked to Bill, "Private Osbourne. The Centurion will see you shortly. Please take a seat."
As they sat waiting, Flic glared at the receptionist, wondering what a Moslem woman in a headscarf was doing here. Hadn't the Confederacy left all the Moslems behind on Earth? Pulling her mind back to their current situation, she asked Bill, "Is a Centurion important?"
"Yes, Flic. He's the equivalent of a Major. You'll need to be very polite to him and do whatever he says. Best to stay quiet at first, until he starts talking to you. He'll probably want to speak to me first."
Flic started to get angry, but she managed to suppress it. Out in public she had to act more circumspectly. After all, she was supposedly the concubine with Bill as her sponsor. This Centurion, whoever he was, would expect her to play the obedient concubine. It wasn't something she enjoyed, but it was one of those annoying things she had to do now and then. A bit like attending Daddy's parties to smile at those fat, leering business partners of his. Bill was looking even more nervous than he had in the pod. Well, that wasn't her problem.
In his office Mark was refreshing himself from the file on the two he was about to see:
Sponsor: William Osbourne, Marine PFC, Age 16 CAP 6.5;
Concubine: Felicity Osbourne, formerly Barham, Age 18, CAP 5.3.
The AI had flagged him earlier, and he'd seen how far things had degenerated between the two of them inside the pod. When this case had first crossed his desk, he'd made some enquiries on Earth, and had got some interesting answers back. The sponsor would get a refresher course, and his concubine would get a sharp lesson. She would definitely need curing of her bad habits. He didn't expect that she would need recycling. She was obviously spoiled and over-indulged, but she wasn't stupid. She should be capable of learning what she needed to learn quickly enough to avoid the worst. Sitting up straighter in his chair, he told Shahana to send them in.
When they entered, Bill stood rigidly to attention in front of Mark's desk, saluting him. "Sir! Private Osbourne reporting, sir!"
Flic stood to one side, a couple of paces back. She posed herself to better show her legs and smiled at the Centurion; the nameplate on his desk said Mark Robertson. He was sitting there, looking very formal in his Civil Service uniform. Strangely, he had made himself look about forty with some grey in his hair and beard. Surely he could have had that fixed in a med-tube? This was obviously shaping up as a very formal meeting. Bill had been right to warn her to play her role as concubine. Irritating, but she could do it if she really had to.
Mark acknowledged Bill's salute. He asked, "Private, tell me what you were doing earlier this afternoon."
"Sir! I was being Court Martialed, sir!"
Flic gasped. What on earth was happening here? And why was she involved?
"On what charge Private?" Mark continued.
"Sir! Failure to control a concubine, sir!" Bill replied.
Flic immediately knew that this was big trouble for her. She changed to a more submissive pose and stopped smiling, that obviously wasn't appropriate any more in the current circumstances. How much worse was it going to get? Perhaps she should have put on one of those horrendous grey shifts after all? Bill had been more insistent about it than he usually was about things.
Mark carried on relentlessly, "And what was the verdict Private?"
"Sir! Guilty, sir!"
"And what part of your sentence was relevant to the Civil Service?"
"Sir! To transfer concubine Felicity Osbourne to the Civil Service for an indefinite period of obedience training, sir!"
Flic's heart sank. She was really in for it now. And it was probably all her own fault. Damn! Why couldn't she have been a sponsor? Why couldn't Daddy have fixed it like he fixed everything else for her? She just wasn't at all suited to being a concubine. She deserved far better.
"Thank you Private. Dismissed," Mark told him.
Bill saluted and marched out.
Flic stayed where she was. Having heard everything, she knew that for the moment she belonged to the Civil Service, not Bill. Oh God! The Civil Service. They couldn't put her in one of their brothels, could they?
.... There is more of this story ...