Chapter 19: Sea Change

The first real test of their resolve came when Bob and Melba were having lunch between classes. While seated in a Denny’s, the world outside went gray. A very large uniformed man stood and announced, “I’m Gunny Sergeant Milton White, and this is a Confederacy extraction. Anyone with weapons, please raise your hand. Private Schmaltz will collect them, tag them, and return them when we depart. That’s assuming you don’t go with us.”

Bob and Melba each raised a hand, and when Schmaltz arrived, Bob told him, “We’re not ready to go yet, so take good care of the 1911; it was my dad’s.”

“Watcha mean you aren’t ready yet?” the private asked, seemingly offended. “What’s your name kid? Ain’t youse tested yet?”

“Oh yeah,” Melba stepped in, “He’s sponsor level but I asked him to leave his card home. I have mine with me, but I’m not ready either.” She handed the Marine her card with its 6.9. “I’m the low scorer in our family.”

“All this is above my pay grade,” Schmaltz growled. “I’ll send over Gunny.” He bagged and tagged their guns, then left in the direction of his sergeant.

Melba moved her chair next to Bob’s for a better view of the proceedings. She snuggled over and told him, “We should take notes. It’s only just started, and I’ve seen two things I think I want to try at home.”

They were watching one sponsor orchestrate a daisy chain, when Gunny White stood before them and stated, “I havta say I’m more than a little curious and skeptical. All these folks fucking themselves silly to get off planet - slaves or master it makes no difference - and you two assert you have lift tickets and sit here calmly watching the circus.”

Melba handed him her CAP card, and said, “Our family decided we’d wait until we are better prepared - have more to offer. We also figure that pioneers have a higher attrition rate than we are willing to risk for our loved ones.”

“But what makes you so sure you’ll have another chance?” Gunny asked. Then looking down at her card he exclaimed, “Say, isn’t there a town a little north of here that has a very high incidence of good CAPs? That you? That what you’re countin’ on?”

“Could be,” Bob told him. “Our study group had unusually high SAT scores and a lot of very good CAPs. We don’t noise it about, but most of the Bob White Covey has scores over 7.5, and like Melba told you, she’s got the lowest at 6.9.”

“So who heads the Bob White Covey? I’d like to talk to him.” Gunny stated.

“Don’t be so sure the clan head is a ‘him’. I’m the only male in my family, and the chickies pretend I’m the leader, but the real force is a sprig of a gal with steel ovaries. Her name’s Eva Mae, and the first time she tested out at 8.7.” Bob grinned, and told him. “The clan name’s a kind of joke. My name is Robert Quayle, and around here, they call the birds ‘bobwhites’. Quail run in coveys, so do I.”

As Bob spoke, Gunny was looking to the ceiling and seemed distracted. “Women don’t tend to score very high. So how many of these divas are there?” The now very interested Marine asked.

“My family is me and four sister-wives and a toddler,” Bob began, “and none of them is a diva. They’re really smart, competent, sexy women, but they sure don’t fit the definition of ‘diva’. Then, I suppose we’d consider Tom and his pair of gals a part of the clan. All three of them are sponsor-grade, somewhere around low sevens - we stopped talking about scores outside family. Then, there’s our study group. There’s maybe ten or twelve that drift in and out, depending...”

“So why aren’t you ready? Gunny asked, while keeping an eye on his Marines who were monitoring the sex show. “You guys afraid of fighting?”

Melba was pissed and lit off, “No such a thing! Bobby, here blew away two rapists who kidnapped his sister, and Eva Mae incinerated two arsonists sneaking up to torch our home. We protect our own!”

“Okay, so again, why aren’t you wonder-kids ready?” Gunny probed.

“We’re kids!” Bob insisted. “No matter what the Confederacy says, we’re in high school or college. We have a lot to learn and some maturity to gain before we peak to our real value to the Confederacy and ourselves. And I’ll guaran-damn-tee that we go together or we don’t go at all!”

“The AI, that’s our artificial intelligence, just told me it kicked your CAP up another two tenths.” The Marine informed Bob. “It wants to know if this all-or-none policy applies only to the Bob Whites, or does it include your study group?”

“At the right time, we’d be happy to be extracted with anyone in the study group. The pain-in-the-asses were weeded out right after the President’s speech when we began to plan our own futures.” Bob clarified, “But with a couple of exceptions, we wouldn’t wait for anyone outside our core family group.”

“Look, I really need to start paying more attention to the business at hand, but the AI says that when you are ready for extraction, send an email or text to this number. You only need to say ‘Bob White’s Covey is ready. Now is the time’.” Gunny handed them a business card with just a phone number and email address. “As for me, I’m around for two weeks before I ship out. If you just happened to have a party, I’d love to come and meet your family and friends. Those contacts will work for me, too.” Melba placed her card between her generous titties. He winked and walked away.

“Miz Bashar, our study group is having a thank-god-it’s-over party next weekend after exams are done. We took up a collection and are having The Pig ‘N Whistle cater at the pavilion in the park.” Bob had stuck his head in the open door to the principal’s office. “We’re inviting all the faculty that helped tutor us over the last two years, plus Uncle Pete, Sheriff Peterson, Judge Rule, Bettie, and Judge Holland. Whole families are invited - no alcohol - and we’ll hire some sitters to watch the little ones. You can bring that stud you’ve been dating on the sly...”

He turned to the principal’s PA, who of course was listening, “Miz Perkins, y’all come too! You were and are one of our staunchest supporters.”

Bob stood so that he could see them both, and told them, “This is important to us. We want y’all - and I do mean all y’all - to see what you’ve helped us become. We’ve worked up a presentation, so please don’t disappoint us.

It was a bright, warmish, sunny day. For a wonder, the typical humidity seemed held at bay. The enticing odors of pulled pork, Georgia Hash, Brunswick stew, barbequed chicken, and much more filled the park. By noon, the invited guests were mostly there, and with so much food and drinks on hand; no party crashers were turned away.

The hired sitters were shepherding their young charges to the line with hotdogs, pizza, macaroni and cheese, and other kid favorites. One runner would fetch special requests from the adult buffet. The noises were loud, happy, and appreciative.

Off to the side, a huge man was sitting and talking with Bob, but his attention was squarely on the clan matriarch, the diminutive Eva Mae. He turned to her and said, “Ma’am, I’m in awe. I did some research on your background, and I don’t see how so much can be contained in such a small package.”

Eva Mae smiled, and pointed to Bob and across the table to Tom. “These two protected me when I was most vulnerable and most in need. They gathered me in and showed me that I had something in me. When need came, they had given me the courage and confidence to respond. Rachel and Maddie are so very lucky to have Tom. He’s a hero. Bob, well Bob’s personality is so big, he’s too much for one or two women...”