Chapter 4

Phyllis Parker and June Thatcher were sitting in a bedroom in Elliott Bradley's pod; he was in the main room, just sitting, apparently. "This is godawful!" Phyllis opined. "Did you see what went on at the pickup? Then those bullies started talking all that trash about slavery and death -- they're just trying to scare us into submission..."

"It's working!" June replied. "I'm scared to death!"

"They can't actually DO any of that stuff!" Phyllis asserted. "It's uncivilized!"

"I guess that depends upon the civilization," June muttered. "The Romans did it."

"We're not Romans."

"This isn't America, Phyllis."

"Maybe not, but..." Phyllis sniffed. "Elliott won't ask us to do any of that."

"I don't think he has a choice, Phyllis. We're here to have children..."

"I'm too old to have children," Phyllis asserted. "I can't!"

"I don't think I'd go telling anyone that," June opined.

"They can't do a thing about it!" Phyllis insisted. "No one can MAKE me have children!" Phyllis shuddered; the whole idea was anathema to her! When she was young, love and sex held some interest -- but love had passed her by, and sex -- the few forays she'd had into THAT had been HORRIBLE! No, no children for Phyllis! "Elliott is a dear -- he'll take care of us. I'll talk to him -- he'll see sense." Elliott was so malleable ... If she'd ever wanted a husband, Phyllis was certain she could have talked Elliott into it. He was so reasonable...

June eyed Phyllis, worried. They weren't friends, really -- Phyllis was a little too strange. Elliott should have been the department head, but Phyllis had seniority, and despite the fact that Elliott made almost every breakthrough in the lab, Phyllis managed to convince herself -- and everyone else -- that she was instrumental. And since Elliott didn't seem to care, it didn't matter -- except to June...

June was the departmental secretary, responsible both for the transcription of Elliot's crisp research notes and Phyllis' rambling memos of self-congratulation. She understood what was going on; clearly, Elliott had no interest in management. He wanted his research, and funding, and to be left alone. June was perfectly happy to help him with everything but the last part...

"Why are you here, anyway?" Phyllis asked suddenly. "Surely you have no ambitions where the colonies are concerned..."

"Why are YOU here?" June asked, as if she didn't know.

"Elliott was going, and he has no ambition AT ALL," Phyllis replied. "Since I'm his ambition, I figured I should come. He'll need someone to watch over his career..."

June sighed.

Elliott was out sitting in the main room, thinking furiously. Why on Earth -- or off Earth, for that matter -- had he selected those two? Why not some young chippie who would get his blood pumping and provide him with an opportunity to do something other than self-manipulation? But Phyllis had invited herself along, making it sound as if he couldn't POSSIBLY do without her -- and June had just felt right...

He couldn't imagine sleeping with either of them -- well, certainly not Phyllis! But apparently, that's what he'd signed on to do -- and what they'd signed on for, too. Elliott wondered what June thought of that -- June, who regularly provided the distraction of low-cut blouses ... Actually, he COULD imagine sleeping with June, vaguely -- the vague part largely because he got sex so seldom that it wasn't really a memory. No, he could have sex with June -- he was even comfortable with the idea, as much as performance anxiety allowed -- but June would probably be aghast at the idea...

Neither of the women was prime stuff; both were a little heavy and a little dumpy and dressed generally like the spinsters they were. June was older at forty -- but Phyllis, who was thirty-seven, presented herself as being forty-five, at least. Elliott smiled remembering a recent period after colonization began when June's blouses had become more and more daring -- until Phyllis had upbraided her over it. That couple of weeks, though ... Elliott had barely been able to work; he'd been so over-stimulated from the numerous peeks June had allowed at her décolletage that serious thought had been difficult.

Elliott's PDA pinged; time for the meal in the cafeteria. Sighing, he rose and called out, "Ladies? Dinner!" He watched the pair come through the door from the room they'd retired to. The shifts -- and no underclothing -- provided him with a strange mix of excitement and disappointment; they were enough like a nightgown to spark the imagination, but they revealed the deficiencies of the wearer. Elliott was somewhat amazed at how flat-chested Phyllis was; she'd obviously been augmenting herself in some manner, since what she had under the shift was visible, certainly, but nowhere near the size hinted by the serious brassieres she'd worn under her high-necked blouses at work. June, on the other hand, had real breasts -- but they weren't the perky things you saw in pictures of young models; there was considerable sag. Still, seeing her nipples poke the thin material of the shift was arousing -- were they getting longer? Elliott dragged his eyes away, looking Phyllis in the eye rather than June -- and Phyllis was openly disgusted with him.

"Must you ogle?" Phyllis snarled.

"This way." Elliott waved toward the door.

The cafeteria had the usual roar to it -- but that was probably the only familiar thing about it. The vast majority of the males were fully dressed -- but over sixty percent of the female adults were nude, and most of the rest were in shifts. Kids were treating the whole thing as some amazing game and were flitting about, engaged in horseplay. The whole scene was a blow to Phyllis -- and an offense to her sensibilities. She put her head down and stumped her way to the food line, leaving Elliott and June to follow her lead. Getting her food, she picked a table where she could face away from the majority of the room -- there was no need to expose herself to the shame of so many others any more than she had to. The table seated eight, though, and Elliott and June only made three...

Sandrine Knopf came by, carrying her tray, and asked, "May we sit here?" Elliott assented gratefully, thinking, 'Hers is a well-integrated group -- that will calm Phyllis down... '

He couldn't have been more wrong. In the first place, there was the Knopf woman, who sat there all self-satisfied -- and fully dressed -- looking down on everyone. Then there were the children -- two of them -- and Phyllis really couldn't abide children, even quiet ones. Then there was the concubine, Barbara, who sat there, flaunting her nakedness while pretending that it was all an everyday occurrence ... But the worst -- THE ABSOLUTE WORST! -- was the man, Bradley, running around, flaunting his erection while he collected high chairs for the children and seated and settled them -- pretending to be casual while he waved his offensive nakedness in her face! Phyllis slowly reached the point where she was floating beside herself, seeing the world through a red haze ... Then Bradley sat down beside the Knopf woman, who smiled a self-satisfied smile and very obviously reached into his lap...

"That does it!" Phyllis rasped, banging her knife and fork on the table. "I'm NOT putting up with this! I'm NOT going to sit here and watch people flaunt their nakedness and fondle one another in public and I'm NOT going to eat and pretend this insane gathering is normal for ANYONE and I'M NOT GOING TO BE ANYONE's BROOD MARE AND I'm NOT HAVING SEX WITH ANYONE, EVER!!!!!!" Screaming, Phyllis threw herself back from the table, brandishing her knife and fork and crouched, searching for threats, her expression feral.

ZAP! There was a flash and Phyllis fell backward, boneless. A crewman came forward cautiously and fetched Phyllis a kick. "She's yours?" the crewman asked Elliott.

"Yes," Elliott agreed, "Very embarrassing."

"Worse than that, I'm thinking," Pete murmured, coming up. "She's cracked. Did you actually look at her CAP card when you picked her up?"

"Well, no," Elliott admitted.

"Display," Pete muttered, waving -- and Phyllis' CAP scores displayed on Elliott's PDA. "She's not ideal, by ANY stretch -- basically, she lives in a fantasy world that matches reality only here and there. I'm thinking that the real world just cracked the glass..."

"Oh, my!" Elliott wheezed. Phyllis was border-line insane under normal conditions -- and under these ... He turned to look down at her unconscious form.

"This being is a danger to herself and others," the AI announced. "The preceding episode was not just anger -- it was full psychosis. She will not recover without extensive treatment -- and she will always be a threat. She is unsalvageable."

"What do I do?" Elliott asked.

"Give her to us, for disposal. I told you you'd probably screwed up. This is the real world Doc. We can't carry any dead weight -- it isn't fair to those who deserve to live," Pete replied, waving a couple of crewmen forward. "Recycle," he told them, then he turned on June. "What about this one? Want to cut your losses while you're ahead? We'll take you on a drop for replacements..."

"Corporal..." the AI interjected.

Pete stopped, frowning. "What?"

"The situation with the other concubine differs markedly. Observe." The AI displayed June's scores on Elliott's PDA.

Pete eyed them -- they were a vast improvement over Phyllis'. "Oh. Okay, Doc -- your call."

"There is an additional factor," the AI added. "Doctor, the subject exhibits marked changes in physiology in your presence. These changes are indicative of what you would call an emotional attachment."

Elliott whirled on June, who suddenly found something of interest on the floor, apparently. "WHAT? Show me!"

"These are what we consider to be the one called June's norms," the AI reported, displaying various biological results, "and these occur in your presence. Note the fact that they increase with proximity. Pheromone output..."

"Yes, yes!" Elliott waved it off. "June?"

"Yes, Elliott?"

"This data..."

"Yes, Elliott."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"It would have scared you off," June muttered.

"Eh," Pete licked his lower lip. "Forget I said anything. We can still get you a second..."

Elliott ignored him. "What about children?"

"I'm fine with that," June replied, artificially calm.

Elliott looked around; they were the center of attention. An acid test suggested itself... "I'm told that I need to be in charge," he told June. "Show me your breasts."

June threw the shift over her head without hesitation. "I'm sorry they're not prettier, Elliott, but you used to like them before I had all this competition."

"Yes..." Elliott eyed them. They weren't huge, but they were good- sized -- and definitely natural -- and arousing. Given the selection in the room, why was that?

June wiggled her shoulders -- and giggled at the result as Elliott's eyes tracked the sway. "I always wanted to do that."

"Well, you own 'em, Doc -- why don't you play with 'em?" Pete interjected. "I guess we're good to go for now." People started returning their attention to other concerns. That left Elliott and June in their own little world as Elliott gently palmed June's breasts. He spent a number of seconds like trhat, then looked up at Pete. "What will happen to Phyllis?"

It already HAD happened, doubtless -- the two crewmen on watch in the cafeteria had returned. But Elliott was one of those anomalies ... He was a genius, but he had a low CAP score because he was constitutionally unable to hurt a fly. Phyllis' fate was ultimately Phyllis' fault -- but Elliott wouldn't see it that way. "We've taken custody of her, Doc," he advised him. "She's not your problem any more. We'll take care of her." Of course, taking care of her was breaking her down into her component molecules, but the longer Elliott didn't know that, the better...

Elliott probably DID know, if he took it out and examined it -- but he wouldn't unless he had to. June's face said she'd heard enough to at least guess -- and that she didn't want Elliott thinking about it, either. "Elliott," she said softly, leaning forward, "when can we have sex?"

It worked -- she had his complete attention. Elliott cleared a dry throat and told Pete, "Suddenly, I'm not hungry."

Pete grinned. "You don't have time to go back to your pod -- we've got three hours worth of briefings to do starting in twenty minutes. Come on, you can do her next door -- if someone walks in on you it'll just add to the excitement." Next door was a small cabin with a couch and a couple of chairs in it; Pete got out of there while Elliott was getting out of his clothing; if he wanted to watch sex, there were several porn flick class chicks available -- including Maureen... "Don't get lost -- we start in twenty minutes!"

Elliottt and June weren't seeing or hearing anything but each other.

Was it good, viewed objectively? Are you kidding? It lasted about eight seconds from penetration to ejaculation! Elliot spent ten times longer just lying atop June, buried inside her, while his cock deflated -- and that didn't take long, either.

Emotionally, on the other hand ... Emotionally, it was a watershed event for both of them -- a culmination of something that hadn't looked possible. It was joy and exploration and pleasure and comfort -- and love, expressed. By the time Elliott struggled up off June, they were both forever changed. June frankly didn't remember being penetrated, but she had an embarrassing flood of semen running down her thigh the moment she stood -- and it pleased her. Elliott had marked his territory.

Elliott was looking at having to pull his pants up over a gooey cock -- and not looking forward to the prospect. "Do you see anything... ?"

"What?"

"I need to clean up."

"Oh!"

Elliott could not have been more surprised; June settled to her knees and sucked his cock into her mouth! It swelled again, immediately; the sensations were incredible! June backed off and husked, "I've always wanted to do that..." She smiled up at him. "You like?"

"Yes..." Elliott panted. This episode, as poorly as he'd performed, exceeded imagination! In his lifetime, he'd gotten maybe a half-dozen blowjobs -- all from tired hookers who had mouthed his cock for half a minute through a rubber while he worried about disease and the police and being mugged by pimps -- and if he let them finish, he ended up having to pay a second charge to masturbate himself in their vaginas because he flooded the rubber while they sucked. A hooker's job was to get her john off as fast as possible -- and with a minimum of effort; if she could get him to blow his wad while sucking, she didn't have to get out of her pantyhose or clean up her pussy. For the class of hooker Elliott had managed to stumble onto, what the john got out of it was irrelevant -- she'd earned her money when he shot off, however it was handled. If he wanted to shoot again, she got paid again -- a simple, cut and dried transaction.