Thomas Klingman left the Confederacy CAP testing center walking with his usual shuffling gait, with his head pointed down towards the cement walkway. He was five foot four, and had been born with a spinal condition that had left him somewhat stooped over and caused him to have severely rounded shoulders. He'd also been born with a condition known as cleft lip and palate, and also had a congenitally weakened right arm and leg. If all that hadn't been burden enough for him to carry, he'd had some kind of prenatal neurological injury causing him to be born somewhat cross eyed as well.

In spite of this myriad of physical challenges he'd been afflicted with from birth, Thomas was, in fact, an extremely intelligent, persistently helpful, perpetually optimistic and pleasant young man.

This happy condition of his mind and splendid personality had come about in spite of the cruel mistreatment from many of the other children that he'd had to endure for most of his young life. No one could possibly count the number of times where he'd been made the butt of the many thousands of cruel taunts aimed his way, and all the spitefully malicious name calling he'd been subjected to.

In second grade, one of his classmates had jokingly referred to Thomas as being the grandson of Quasimodo, after the character in Victor Hugo's novel, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, which was being read to the class. The name had been picked up by most of his other classmates, and, after being shortened back to Quasimodo, had been stuck on him ever since.

Not everyone called him names however. Many of his fellow classmates made a conscious point of refraining from all the taunting and the bullying taking place around Thomas. These people always tried to stick up for him, shielding him from the others if they could. They were also the ones always making it a point to refer to Thomas by his Christian name.

It had taken Thomas more than half an hour to walk back home from the testing center. His shuffling gait and weakened right side made walking more than a hundred yards or so, a difficult feat for him to accomplish. When he'd finally managed to complete his journey, he'd wanted nothing more than a cold drink, and the opportunity to sit on the living room sofa and rest for awhile. With his physical limitations, his body had never developed the stamina to accomplish any demanding physical activities. All the walking he'd done had left him fatigued far beyond his usual limits.

In the small village where Thomas resided, there had never once been a Confederacy pick up and extraction of volunteers. Delta Valley Village residents had been picked up though, usually in one of the three larger cities which were all within fifty miles of the village. Even the village's Confederacy CAP testing center was only open for one afternoon each month.

People in Delta Valley didn't pay too much attention to what was going on in the war being waged against the Sa'arm. For the most part, they had troubles enough just keeping a roof over their family's head, and sufficient food on the dinner table to keep everyone strong and healthy.

It was a hand to mouth existence most of the families lived. Independent coal mining had never been more than subsistence living at it's very best. In bad times, like over the last ten or so years, as the known coal deposits became increasingly over mined and played out, miners and their families had been forced to admit defeat and move away from the land of their birth.

For some others though, like Thomas's grandfather, the man who had raised him after his only son, Thomas's father, had died in a mine cave in, running away just wasn't an option. Thomas's mother had run away from Thomas, her husband, and the village, as well as a lifetime of poverty, knowing there were bleak prospects for any of it improving.

Thomas was only six years old when his mother had run off. He was nine when his father had died. Along with the many physical burdens he'd had to accept, losing both parents was like adding two more bricks to the heavy load he was already being forced to carry.

There was one tradition that remained alive in Delta Valley, long after it had died off in other towns and villages, and that was the Saturday children's matinee at the local movie house. Every Saturday, promptly at noon, there was a double feature playing there. The movies were always preceded by no fewer than three or four serial shorts and another two or three cartoons.

Cyrus Curtle owned the movie house, and had done so since right after he returned from soldiering in World War II. Within weeks of his return from the war, he had turned his late father's livery stable and blacksmith shop into a movie theater. Cyrus had other, far more profitable, businesses he'd inherited, but the movie house had always been a labor of love for him. Almost ever child from the ages of eight to sixteen that lived within walking distance of the movie house, would show up on a Saturday morning presenting his quarter at the box office and purchasing his ticket of admission.

It should be mentioned that none of the movies shown at the movie house were what could be called first run features. All of the serials being presented were at least thirty years old or more, as were the cartoons offered. Mr. Curtle knew that the movies being presented weren't what was drawing all those youngsters to his theater for these weekend matinees, it was the chance for all of them to get together, without their parents or teachers being present, to see and be seen, and to practice developing some of their social skills, ones that weren't easily practiced in other settings that might be more commonly available to them.

Most first dates that had taken place in the village, over the past sixty plus years, had begun, one way or another, within the walls of that old converted livery stable. People met there in ways that were more private and intimate than what was possible in a school yard, or out on a sidewalk, in plain sight of anyone caring to look. While a movie was playing, all the lights were turned way down, if not off. Nothing helped to allay social shyness more than a profound absence of illumination.

Mr. Curtle always had a young girl he hired for taking the kid's admission money, and another who took the tickets and worked behind the snack counter. He didn't use any theater ushers, and only the projectionist, more often than not Mr. Curtle, ever interfered with the privacy of his young theater audience. Everyone knew that Mr. Curtle wouldn't interfere, not unless someone did something it was impossible for him to ignore. If he had to turn up the lights and come down on the movie house floor to take care of a problem, you could count on it that someone was about to be banned from the movie theater for a good long time. For a second offense, the ban would be forever.

The lights were always turned back up in the theater for the ten minute intermission they had between the two feature length films. During this break, kids were either sitting in their seats, or else standing up, talking with their friends close by, or else shouting across the theater at each other.

Couples would all be taking a break too, from all the making out they'd been busy doing while the lights were down. It was comical, watching the couples all trying to look so innocent, while most of the girls would be hunched over in their seats, trying to resettle their breasts back inside their bra's. Many of their boyfriends were busy too, using the back of one of their hands to wipe away the lipstick stains from their mouths, and the other hand to reposition a certain non cooperating body part so it wouldn't give away what they might have been up to.

Now that people once again had sufficient light to see by, a lot of attention was being paid to seeing which boys were still sporting a hard on, as well as which weren't, and to seeing which girls could be observed frantically attempting to reharness their breasts, redo the open buttons on their blouses, or else pull down their sweaters.

The movie house was buzzing with conversation and laughter, too busy paying attention to what was happening in their social circle to notice the appearance, on the stage, in front of the drawn curtains, of three Confederacy Space Marines, each dressed in full battle armor.

"Listen up people, My name is First Lieutenant Frank Jameson of the CSM. We're here to perform an extraction of five Confederacy volunteers. By now you all must know the drill. Anyone not at least fourteen years of age, and anyone who doesn't have a Confederacy CAP card on them, should move all the way to the back of the theater. Those women who are past their childbearing years, and those who have no wish to be chosen as possible concubines, you too should get to the back of the room, as quickly as possible.

"Now, those of you over the age of fourteen, with valid CAP cards to prove it, who wish to be considered as companions for these five volunteers, you should remain up here in the forward part of the theater, so that all the possible sponsors will have a chance to see you. I want the following people to come up here on the stage, just as soon as I call your names. Fred Milton."

Fred Milton an eighteen year old high school senior moved quickly over to the stairs and moved up on stage. Fred was a musician in the high school band, and was in the running for either valedictorian or salutatorian honors at the graduation ceremonies that were scheduled less than two weeks from now.

"Donald Perry"

Don was a fifteen year old. He too was one of the best students. He'd gone out for football last year, but his chronic asthma hadn't allowed him to make the team. When Don walked up on stage, his sister, Dana, and her best friend, Margaret Taylor, both started clapping for him.

"Charles Weatherly, Jr."

Chuck Weatherly's name resulted in loud and boisterous clapping, foot stomping, lots of shouting and some whistles. Chuck was eighteen years old, and had been that year's student body president, as well as a member of both the football and basketball teams. His girlfriend, Betsy Dillon, was holding on protectively to his arm, not taking any chances by allowing Chuck to get even an inch away from her grasp. One of the Marines stepped forward to tell her she wasn't allowed up on the stage with the volunteers, but Chuck said that she was his first concubine pick, and the Marine allowed her up on stage with Chuck.

"Sarah Cornwell"

Sarah was a little mouse of a girl. A sophomore at the local high school. After school, she could be found at the village lending library. People thought she worked there as a volunteer, but she didn't. She just liked to stay at the library until it closed at six o'clock. She felt safe there, and it was much quieter than it would have been back home with her six younger brothers and sisters. When Sarah's name was called, there was no clapping or shouting. There was a little buzz of talking by some of the boys in the audience though, they seemed happy to learn that at least one girl would be picking concubines too.

"Thomas Klingman"

Of all the announced picks, his created the greatest noise and the most vocal commentary. No one in the audience knew he was even in attendance, not to mention their having any idea that he might have a CAP score that would qualify him for service to the Confederacy. About half the comments were positive and congratulatory, but there were also numerous slurs and expressions of disbelief shouted out as well.

After minutes had passed and there was still no sign of Thomas, one of the Marines came down from the stage and made his way hastily through the crowd gathered in front of the stage, then continued on up the aisle towards the theater lobby. When he got there, he found Thomas Klingman surrounded by five other male youths. All of the young people were forcibly blocking Thomas's pathway into the theater.

Thomas, as per his usual habit, had been sitting up in the projectionist booth, helping Mr. Curtle by rewinding the reel that had just finished, then putting it back in the film tins that the reels were stored in. This made things go faster whenever Mr. Curtle needed to change projectors in the middle of one of the films. For providing this service, Thomas got into each matinee free of charge. As soon as his name had been called he'd left the projection room to walk to the stage.

Thomas went from being thrilled and excited at having his name called, knowing that soon most of the physical afflictions he'd always been troubled by would soon be part of his past, to dejected and despondent after Karl Evans and his group of local low life thugs told him that they were planning to keep him from finally achieving what had been his long held dream.

Corporal Glasson, the Space Marine who'd been sent to find the boy, quickly took in the scene laid out in front of him. He listened as the AI identified each of the individuals in front of him. He wasted little time, sensing that the volunteer he'd been sent to find and escort over to the stage was in some sort of danger, or at least the threat of danger. Raising his hand held stinger, he pressed his fist in until the two teenagers who had their backs to him, crumpled to the floor, unconscious from the stinger's instant bite. As soon as the first two dropped, one of the other youths grabbed the boy the AI had identified as being young Klingman, slipped his arm around the other boy's neck while moving behind him, hoping to use the boy as both a shield and as a bargaining chip when he tried to negotiate his own escape.

Karl Evans had no idea of the potential for harm these armed and armored Marines posed. He never felt the bolt of lethal energy that struck him full in the face and laid waste to every synapse and nerve ending in his body. He was limp and lifeless even before his arm fell harmlessly away from his would be victim's neck.

Seeing what had happened to Karl, and to their other two friends, the remaining two members of the team of young toughs quickly put their hands up, palms forward to demonstrate that they weren't armed, showing the universal sign of surrender, as they backed themselves carefully away from Thomas. The whole time they did this, their eyes were fearfully locked on the Space Marine's closed fist. Corporal Glasson used the stinger on them anyway, but at a lower, non lethal, setting. Space Marines were getting fed up with the increased resistance they were finding at these volunteer extractions.

"If you're Thomas Klingman, I've been sent to take you up on stage to see my Lieutenant."

Thomas nodded that he was, then tried to hurry ahead of the soldier, moving as fast as his physical limitations allowed, striding towards the front of the theater. Thomas didn't normally try to speak much to people, his cleft palate and lip made it extremely difficult for almost everyone to understand his speech. When he finally got up on the theater stage, he had difficulty communicating the information that he had no intention of picking any concubines until after he'd had a chance to get all of his physical disabilities taken care of.

No one had greater need of taking advantage of the Darjee medical technology than Thomas Klingman. He'd studied the published capabilities of those near miraculous medical bay units the Confederacy routinely used on volunteers and concubines alike.

He knew that he had nothing wrong with him that a combination of carefully infiltrated nannites and the liberal application of certain other alien medical technology couldn't take care of. As a Confederacy volunteer, he also knew that he'd soon have access to all that advanced technology, and that it would quickly remedy all the physical infirmities he'd suffered from his whole life.

It took Thomas quite a while to communicate with, and later convince, Lieutenant Jameson that he didn't want to select any companions at that time. By the time he'd managed it, all the other volunteering sponsors had selected the people they wanted to take with them.

By the time Thomas got taken aboard the Confederacy colonial pod transport freighter, he was feeling weak from all the internal excitement he'd had. On his own authority, Lieutenant Jameson had sent Thomas to the ship's medical bay with instructions that he be placed in one of the healing chambers so that the first part of his physical repairs could be tended to.

Even with just attending to his various birth defects, Thomas spent seventy eight hours inside one of the Darjee medical chambers. It took every bit of that time to undo the damage that a lifetime spent adjusting and accommodating himself to his body's limitations had produced in him. Fixing the opening in the roof of his mouth and smoothing away all the gapped area on his lip had been mere child's play for the alien technology. Balancing muscles and sinew on both sides of his body, along with straightening out the curvature of his spine were far more complex. Little problems, like with his eyes, took mere seconds to correct. Rerouting muscular controls, and matching up his brain activity with corresponding reflexive responses of the somewhat involuntary larger muscles in his legs, chest, stomach, and buttocks regions were where the greatest concentration of time was spent.

Thomas wasn't aware of even a moment of that passage of time. He went to sleep, and when he awakened, after that seventy eight hour period in the medical chamber, he found himself in, what to him, was a completely different body. It wasn't so much the changes that were easy to see and notice that thrilled him. For the first time in his entire life he felt strong and whole, able to now compete, on an equal footing, with anyone. To his mind, he'd already been given the greatest possible gift he could ever ask for. He knew that he'd always believe that he'd gotten the best of the deal, even if he ended up giving his life in service to the people of Earth and the Confederacy. He was positively amazed that he could have already received so much from them when he'd done absolutely nothing yet to earn any part of it.

The technician who had awakened him directed Thomas to seek out Lieutenant Jameson, giving concise directions for where to find that officer.

It took Thomas more than half an hour to get to where the Lieutenant was billeted. Not because he needed to walk slowly to conserve energy, but because he was still practicing what it felt like to have a mouth that could now form all the sounds, and could thus give his words their correct pronunciation. He could speak, as clearly as anyone else. He could verbally communicate, something that almost everyone else took for granted being able to do. It took him that whole half an hour to get to the point where he was willing to let go of the wonder of it all, and to then tend to the business he'd been directed to accomplish.

"Lieutenant Jameson, my name is Thomas Klingman. The technician in the medical bay told me to report to you."

"Klingman, Klingman, oh, yes, I remember you now. The pickup from that little movie theater a few days ago. You're the boy that had so much trouble speaking. Well, it looks like they've managed to fix you up just fine. Let's take care of the first order of business, shall we? Klingman, in all the excitement, we seem to have forgotten to have you give us a verbal statement of your willingness to be a member of the Confederacy defense forces. Embarrassing, our omission, but no permanent harm done if you'll just give me your consent now."

"Yes sir. It is my intention and desire to volunteer. What do I need to do?"

"You just did it. Now, getting to our second order of business, you are entitled to have four people accompanying you as your concubines. When we first picked you up, back there in your home town, it was my belief that you had informed me that you did not wish to have anyone else accompanying you. My associates and I all assumed this had something to do with your physical handicaps. Now that they've been dealt with, are you still not inclined to pick out your allotted quota of concubines?"

"I didn't think I had any choice after we got picked up. Are you saying I can go back to Delta Valley and pick some girls from there?"

"No, there's no way I can authorize that I'm afraid. What I can do is send you over to the ship's Civil Service officer. As I understand things, she's carrying somewhere between twenty and thirty people on her roster at present. Somewhere close to half are currently unaffiliated former concubines who are being transported over to the colony we're heading out to. The rest are people we were forced to bring with us after an extraction that went bad over in Arkansas.

"Headquarters decided we'd keep all the ones who wanted to stay with us, rather than just send them all back, so they're being sent out to our new colony along with most of the sponsors and concubines we've been picking up on this run. Could be that you could find something there that meets with your approval. A lot of Marines ship with open slots. If they see something they like, when they do get into a port, well it isn't difficult to acquire any unattached concubines that are stranded out on one of the colonized planets. Why don't you go down and see the Civil Service Decurion and look over what she's got?"

With new directions from the Lieutenant on how to find the Civil Service officer and where all her charges were billeted, Thomas started off on his search. Lieutenant Jameson had assigned him to his own pod, now that he was released from the med bay. Thomas was anxious to see where he'd be staying, but even more interested in finding the Civil Service woman and trying to see if he could get himself a concubine.

Thomas wasn't greedy. He'd never even had so much as a date in his life, let alone anything like a girlfriend. He dared hope now, what with the startling changes made to his appearance, and with his new found ability to speak so that people could easily understand him. He wasn't after more than one concubine for now though. Who knew how steep the learning curve was for building a mutually satisfying relationship with even one girl?

Following the directions the Lieutenant had given him, Thomas finally arrived at an area of the transport vessel where the five joined pods of the Civil Service were located. This was where the current thirty one unassigned concubines, along with their dependent children, were being housed and cared for.

"May I help you sir?" Thomas found his way effectively blocked by an attractive women who appeared to be somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties. She was wearing some sort of a uniform, a blouse and skirt, made of some gray colored material. She had dark brown hair, styled in a very short, no nonsense, manner. Thomas's first impression of her was that she herself would be a no nonsense person.

"Lieutenant Jameson sent me to find a Decurion Freeman of the Confederacy Civil Service."

"I'm Karen Freeman, why did the Lieutenant send you to see me? Are you an unassigned concubine?"

"Uh, no, I'm a volunteer. He said I could maybe find someone who wanted to become my concubine. When I was picked up, I didn't take anyone with me."

"I'll have to see your CAP card, please."

Thomas took his card out of his pocket and handed it over to her. He saw her lifting her head up slightly for a second or two, then she looked back at him and handed his card back to him.

"Mr. Klingman, now that I've satisfied myself as to your status, welcome to our temporary Civil Service center. As I understand, from your card, and from what you've told me, you have current openings for up to four new concubines. I'm sure that you'll have little difficulty completing your household staffing needs from the individuals we have available for your immediate selection. Have you given much thought to the makeup of your concubine staff? We have four gentlemen, twenty five ladies, and two minor children who, while not available to be taken as concubines by you, have been kept aboard this vessel as wards of their two older, and thus available to you, sisters."

"I only came to see about getting one for right now. I'm new to all this. I thought I'd start out slow, with just one girl, and maybe add more later, once I get comfortable with having just the one."

"Of course, that's entirely your decision to make Mr. Klingman. As you may, or may not, be aware though, the life of a Civil Service unassigned concubine is precarious at best. They are all aware of what awaits them after we get to the colony where we're heading. Most of the girls will be made available to service the sexual needs of any unaccompanied Marines stationed at the training base. The Confederacy needs to get babies from these women, as this is the only currency they have to make it worth while for them to continue being carried on our books. I'm sorry to say that at least two of the male unassigned concubines will need to be recycled upon arrival, if I still have four in my care when we disembark. It's always more difficult to place males with new sponsors, and, unfortunately, using them as breeding studs goes counter to current Confederacy policy."

"I'm pretty sure that even one is going to be hard for me to get comfortable with. I'm hoping you can find someone for me who knows a lot more than I do about how everything should be. Someone with lots of experience I mean."

Karen looked at the nervous young man in front of her and sighed. It really hadn't been fair of her to try to coax him into taking on four of her charges rather than the one he was asking for. It was just that she felt so helpless, knowing what the probable future prospects for these poor women were. The ones who weren't already pregnant would be assigned to a military comfort station, just as soon as they made planet fall.

Most of them would end up being little more than whores, passed around from stranger to stranger in the hope that they would soon get pregnant and add what might end up being another potential volunteer to the Confederacy's future defense forces.

After having their babies, they'd once again be sent back to repeat that same process. It wasn't the life any woman would choose for herself. It was better than being recycled though. As long as an unassigned concubine was still alive, there was hope that she'd catch on with a new sponsor.

"If you'll please come with me then, Mr. Klingman. I'll show you to one of our interview rooms, and bring you up to speed on how to operate the machine that will assist you in the selection process."

Karen took the young man to one of the rooms she'd set up in the front of the first pod, the one that housed her own quarters, and most of the official Civil Service machinery, including the lone replicator she'd been given to provide for all thirty one of her current charges as well as the additional twenty seven minor children that traveled with their mothers.

She took him to the console and brought up the list of available unassigned concubines currently in residence. She showed him how to operate that machine, and how to ask the ship's AI for any other information about any of the individual's. She assured him that he'd be provided with anything he'd want or need to make his decision.

She went through a demonstration, showcasing one of the girls she thought might appeal to him, even demonstrating the availability of life size holographic images of them. She explained that all Thomas needed to do was make a verbal request to the AI, if he found anyone that he wished to personally interview.

"They'll come here for the interview?" Thomas turned around and looked more closely at the room the Decurion had brought him to. Over in the back corner of the room was what appeared to be a bed.

"Yes, they come here. Feel free to ask them any questions, or to request they perform any act you might want them to engage in with you."

"You mean sex too?"

"Yes, whatever you want to help you make a selection. I'm sure you'll find that all the applicants will do their best to try to make a good first impression. They'll all try their hardest to persuade you to select them. There are two minor females in amongst the thirty one available concubines you'll find in the selection files. You may not ask any sexual favors of either of them. They are both off limits to you, as far as you asking them for any sexual favors. Kathy, the thirteen year old, might offer to perform oral sex on you. If she does, it is permissible for you to accept her offer. She is thirteen years old, and has that right. Her sister, Lee, is only twelve years old. You aren't allowed any sexual activities at all with her, not even if she volunteers them to you. It is permissible for you to ask both girls to remove their cover garment however. If you need me for anything else, press this button. It will buzz me in my office."

After Karen left, Thomas sat in front of the screen and tried to make himself be calm. What he was planning to do was far outside any previous parameter's he'd lived his life by. Hell, even trying to hold a conversation with a female had been outside those parameter's until today. Girls had talked to him, many times, usually the ones trying to be as kind as they could to the poor cripple they thought him to be. They were right too. He had been a cripple, and not just physically either. The years had taken quite a toll on his emotions as well. He'd closed off any social ambitions he'd ever found himself hoping for, seeing them as pure fantasy, rather than anything that might possibly become reality one day.