Chapter 1

CPL Pete Taylor stood at the hatchway to Collection Area C on the kilopod transport Catch-22 and sighed. In some ways, making a pickup was the easy part...

The collection of people in the cavernous room made the ungodly din that people who have no idea what’s coming next ALWAYS seemed to make -- and he could barely hear himself think! Dialing up the volume on the loudspeaker in his ring, he roared, “All RIGHT! BE QUIET!”

The room seemed to shake; he’d pumped the volume up pretty high!

“Sorry about that,” he continued, after backing things off, “but right now, you need to hear one voice -- mine! Nobody here but me and my partner know what comes next -- and the only way ANYBODY is gonna find out is if EVERYBODY keeps their yaps shut long enough to get the word!”

The ensuing silence wasn’t perfect, of course; civilians just didn’t get it. Military discipline could yield such a thing -- and they’d get there -- but not for a while yet. Besides, there were a sprinkling of kids present -- and when kids are scared, NOBODY could shut them up for long!

Pete could certainly be heard, though -- and with a lot less amplification. “All right,” he continued. “You’re all in the same boat at this point. Everybody knows about pickups, but what happens after is the subject of rumor and legend. Well, I’m going to educate you all and dispel some rumors -- and maybe confirm some legends -- but first, we need to get somewhat organized. Sponsors -- that would be you guys with the CAP scores above six point five -- collect your concubines into a tight little group.

Get everybody’s CAP card, and get a headcount of those that don’t have one.

Be able to discuss those without cards intelligently so we can figure out who is who, later. Find out from your concubines how many eligible offspring they have still on the surface of Mother Earth, and decide whether you’re gonna plan on asking to have them retrieved. And last, but not least, ask everybody in your little family if he or she needs medical attention for anything like high blood pressure or diabetes or anything they’re on drugs for ... Everybody got that? Wave an arm -- don’t yell! You’ve got ten minutes -- when you know everything I asked you to find out, park your people’s butts in one place and come see me!”

“Excuse me!” Someone was waving. Pete eyed him, trying to place the name. Francke?

“Yes?”

“What’s this about deciding...”

“We’ll talk about that when you come up here,” Pete cut him off.

“Then, if you need to, you can take the answer back to your family.”

Francke nodded and turned away.

“Okay, the clock is ticking!” Pete added. “The sooner we get organized, the sooner everybody gets food and a place to sleep and a shitload of answers! Go to it!”

Some people turned up pretty quickly -- and others took more time.

Sandrine Knopf, the only woman in the sponsor group, turned up first, with CAP cards for Bradley and Barbara Pinchot, and the information that their minor children, Chantal and Bryce, were present and accounted for.

Wayne Moore accounted for Cathy Clark, the foxy brunette who had pulled a train at pickup, and Debra McPherson, the schoolteacher. “Cathy might need to have her ass looked at,” Wayne muttered.

Jason Frederics showed up to report that Allison Tate, the counter girl with the sad mouth, and Nadine Peters, the construction worker, required nothing.

Elliott Bradley turned up with cards for his two dumpy secretary types, Phyllis Parker, and June Thatcher. “Who do I talk to about making them a little younger?” he asked. Both had what were probably minor prescription issues.

“Later,” Rick Evans told him. “Emergencies first. Why did you...?”

“Ahhh, I just couldn’t leave ‘em...” Elliott shrugged. “I’m an old softie, I guess.”

Rick looked mildly disgusted. “Do you like either of them enough to want to have a half-dozen kids by her?”

Elliott wrinkled his nose. “Well, it was the luck of the draw. At least I know ‘em. I’ll manage.”

“Well, you can START by NOT being an ‘old softie’ ANY MORE!” Rick warned him. “You own them -- not vice-versa -- and they need to understand that up front, or your life will be shit, believe me!”

Elliott nodded. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

Mike Fisher arrived next. “I’m gonna need baby stuff,” he related,

“for little Tommy. That would be Linda’s kid.” He handed over her CAP card.

Linda was the last female selected -- a chubby, brown-haired dishrag type who was so slow off the mark that she almost stayed behind. “And Jolene has three kids on the ground -- I think her sister is watching them. Tyrone, Nishelle, and Broaddus.” Jolene was a scrawny, mouthy black chick with nipple rings in her droopy titties.

“They’re all under fourteen?” Pete asked.

“Supposedly.”

“I bet you’re thinking you should have kept Nikki,” Rick chuckled.

Mike grimaced and shook his head. “At least this pair know what sex is. I don’t envy Mitch.” Mitch Francke had somehow ended up with a pair of teenyboppers -- each inherited singly from Mike when he discovered that older women wouldn’t have anything to do with him for taking on young stuff.

Kiran Patan was the first of the Sevens to show up, with cards for his pair of Indian women, Amita and Sharmila, young Isobel Montoya -- and Kellie Wentworth. “We need nothing -- for now.”

“About the Wentworth chick,” Pete began.

“She is worthless for anything but an object lesson to my other women,” Kiran snorted. “She is dull and foolish and I see no use for her except as a collection of holes to abuse -- but if the others learn respect, it will have been worth it, dealing with her.”

Pete pursed his lips. A certain spoiled young brat was going to see hard times -- if he hadn’t just heard her death sentence... “What about Isobel?”

“Isobel is spirited, but I believe that she understands discipline and obedience to authority,” Kiran declaimed, adding blithely, “She’s not Indian, of course ... On the other hand, Amita and Sharmila will need to be un- Americanized...”

Pete nodded, thinking, ‘This could get ugly... ‘

Kiran, looking off toward the groups, muttered, “Here comes Sanket.

He did well with Rachana, but why he took on those fat aunties...” He shook his head and moved off.

Sanket Parsupula arrived, clutching cards for Rachana, Anne Mayweather, Inez Montoya, and Donna Eggers. “Anne may need assistance for diabetes, and Inez for high blood pressure,” he related.

“Your colleague doesn’t understand your selection criteria,” Pete related.

“I’m uncertain that I understand them, myself,” Sanket related diffidently. “Rachana ... Well, I couldn’t leave her. Anne, well, holds an odd fascination -- I’m not sure whether it is physical or mental. Donna is pleasant to look upon and seems to have some sense...”

“And Inez?” Pete prompted.

“I felt sorry for her. I hope, though, that she will work out, once a part of her youth is recovered.” Sanket shrugged.

“Well, she’s a wiser head, at least,” Pete noted. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Sanket moved off.

“Very different from his friend,” Rick noted.

“Yeah...”

Mitch Francke arrived next, carrying cards for one Michelle (Mickey) Rawlins, the bushy bleached-blonde mother of two, Tamara Jackson -- also a mother of two, Nikki Swenson, the fifteen year old bleach blonde with the mouse-brown muff, and Vicky Ellis, her quiet, brown-haired friend. “I’ve got three pickups,” Mitch related, “Mickey’s girls Lisa and Petra, and Tyler Gregory. Tamara’s kids Leah and Latoya are with her.”

“The Gregory kid -- umm, Michelle is the legal guardian?” Pete confirmed.

“We have a note from the mother and a verbal from the father that there is a document,” Mitch replied.

“He’s being very careful,” the AI transmitted through Pete’s implant.

“He is speaking what he believes to be the truth, but it appears that he has concerns that something might occur at variance with the plan.”

Pete nodded, subvocalizing, “I think this is a last-minute thing.”

Addressing Mitch, he asked, “So what’s up with this?”

Mitch sighed. “The mother, Bettina Gregory, is ... unstable. The husband is going broke trying to cope, but he can’t farm the boy out all day every day -- and he’s in danger at home, so...”

“How many charity cases does that make?” Pete chuckled.

“I dunno,” Mitch grunted. “Three? Six? Nine?”

“I’ve got you beat,” Elias Whitcomb announced himself. He started handing over cards, “There’s that sow, Sue -- fat, ugly AND stupid -- Penny McBride the pigeon-toed Holocaust survivor, Alicia Cortez the grouchy greaser, some chunky cunt named Beth Savage whose only claim to fame seems to be that she wants kids...” He wrinkled his nose. “Maybe you win after all. The little chink bitch seems to have a head on her shoulders and isn’t hard to look at, and Denise, the brunette, has an ass to die for...” He rubbed his nose. “I oughta get triple credit for Sue, though...”

“Got any issues?” Pete asked, knowing the answer.

Elias cocked his head. “Don’t suppose there’s somewhere around here I could smoke...”

“Not hardly!” Rick chuckled. “The Darjee would freak and there would be bird shit ALL over the place!”

“Well, if you got a fix for it, Alicia and I are gonna need it,” Elias sighed. “Dunno what I’m gonna do with my hands, though...”

“With six women available, I can’t see you not finding SOMETHING to hang onto!” Rick jibed. “Go get Alicia -- you’re in the first wave at Medical, when I call for you.” He started adding numbers on his electronic notebook. “Nine sponsors. Twenty-eight concubines. Five kids on site, and six to be picked up. Seven for Medical.”

“Ummm...” a female voice sounded behind them.

Rick glanced over his shoulder at Maureen. “Oh, yeah. Twenty-NINE concubines. If Pete makes a habit of forgetting you, Honey, just wander over to MY place -- you hear?” He grinned at the tall blonde.

“I said this before, and I’ll say it again,” Pete retorted, “GET YOUR OWN!”

Rick laughed.

“Come here,” Pete crooked a finger at Maureen. “Do you have any medical problems? Anything?”

“No...”

“Well, don’t hesitate to tell me, so we can fix them,” Pete told her.

“I won’t, um, sir,” Maureen replied diffidently.

“For now, ‘Pete’ is fine,” Pete told her. “I have a lot on my mind right now -- make sure you don’t get left out of anything. Come here...” He pulled her in and backed her against him, rubbing her belly. “Do you mind being naked?”

“Um, well, a lot of people are...”

“You’re likely not to wear a lot of clothing for a while,” Pete told her, “largely because you’re such fun to look at.”

“Is that normal?” She relaxed against him and enjoyed the feel of his big hands on her body.

“A lot more so than it would be down on the ground,” Pete told her.

“Lots of sponsors take a while to get used to seeing their concubines in skin.

Some never tire of it.”

“I imagine that depends on how the concubine looks,” Maureen said quietly. Based on experience, she had no reason to expect any man to have a whole lot of interest...

“True,” Pete agreed. “Like I said -- you’re gonna be naked for a while...”

Maureen was nonplussed. “I don’t understand why...”

“Well I do!” Rick laughed. “You probably look your best naked, because then everyone can see that there’s not a damned thing wrong with you!”

“I...” Maureen blinked, surprised.

“Just like going to McDonald’s and ordering it up super-sized -- only I got a hot blonde!” Pete chuckled. “Rick’s all jealous...”

“B--but...” Maureen’s hand flashed to the only thing really wrong with her -- a splash of acne across her cheeks, half-hidden by make-up.

“That?” Pete laughed. “That’s NOTHING! Rick and I have seen a LOT of female flesh in the past few months -- take it from us, you need VERY LITTLE help...”

“That’s sweet...” Maureen didn’t really BELIEVE a word of it -- but it sounded nice...

“I’ll show you later -- first, back to the salt mines.” Pete released her, reluctantly, and stepped away. “All right!” he addressed the group,

“it’s time for the briefing! Can everyone hear me? You don’t want to miss this! SILENCE!” Things quieted down; Linda’s little one Tommy was snuffling some. “Hey, uh, Linda!” Pete consulted his list. “Do you breast feed?”

Linda nodded. “Well, whip it out and make him happy, willya? Obviously, nudity isn’t a problem here...”

Linda looked around, dazed -- but there were a LOT of women in various stages of undress present ... Mike leaned over and whispered, “Just do it.”

Linda nodded and handed him Tommy so she could open up her blouse...

Jolene sighed. “You’re gonna have to babysit her Baby...”

Mike produced a crooked grin. “No, YOU are. Get her out of that rig,” he waved at the bra. “Everybody else is naked -- at least she has a reason.”

“I just don’t...” Linda muttered, shrugging out of the bra.

“Shh!” Mike replied. “Feed him!” He handed her Tommy back. “You watch things -- you know what you’re doing!” he added to Jolene.

“Are we under control, here?” Pete asked somewhat sarcastically. Mike waved. “All right -- this is the big briefing. Take mental notes -- it’s all pretty simple really, but for some of you it’s gonna be a shock!”

Pete looked around. “I’m gonna start at the bottom, with some basic terms. Officially, just about every woman in this room -- and one male, if memory serves -- is referred to as a ‘concubine.’ The person who chose you on the ground down there, we refer to as a ‘sponsor.’ He was watching Linda, who was listening as best she could with an expression of utter confusion on her face. “Wait a minute -- I think I started things at too advanced a level...”

“What’s up?” Rick subvocalized.

“At least one member of our audience has no fucking idea what’s going on,” Pete muttered back. “When I give the high sign, pop the shutter on the port, willya?” Rick nodded and headed over to a bank of switches. “All right -- forgive me, but when I look around, I see faces that have no clue about the basics. For those of you who have some idea what’s up, this might seem elementary, but you probably STILL haven’t let the whole thing sink in -- so hang in there while we put everyone on the same footing, okay?” Pete swept the group with his eyes, gauging them. “A little while ago you were all in that cute little bakery place, having breakfast or your midmorning break.

Then we showed up and the world changed. You stepped through a portal and arrived here. What do you think you did when you did that?” Pete looked around. “Anybody? Raise your hands and I’ll pick out a volunteer...”

Several people raised her hands; Cathy Clark got Pete’s attention.

“Go ahead,” he told her.