Chapter 32: Sorting the Catch

Captain Cooper left most of the quartering assignments to Lieutenant Edward Murphy who had been promoted when he accepted a transfer to Othello. He had remained with Major Amanda Cooper when she left the Asimov and now had two officers and eight ratings to help him manage the logistical needs of the Kilo-class colony transport ship.

"Captain, the preliminary report from the AI scan of the arena crowd shows a disproportionate number of volunteers with naval experience among the rodeo spectators, and their CAP interview notes indicate that most of them are spoiling for a fight with the Sa'arm." Murphy slowly shook his head when he pointed out, "There's always been above average numbers of youngsters from the South that joined the Navy, but the ratio of naval officers and ratings in this crowd far exceeds the statistics."

Cooper was intrigued by the number of admirals and fleet officers at the top of Murphy's list and noted, "A very interesting observation, Mr. Murphy. Please schedule a special briefing with these individuals for tomorrow morning. I'd like to speak with these people myself."

"Aye, Captain," Murphy responded. "That brings us to another problem. We have more volunteers than we have accommodations. Several Aurora-class transports are due, but have not yet checked in. Do we tell Commander Porter to leave the excess at the stadium or shall I arrange something temporary for the overflow in our briefing rooms?"

"How many are we talking about?" Cooper asked somewhat rhetorically as she looked at her own display for the answer.

Murphy grimaced as he replied, "Three-hundred and twenty-one volunteers. Close to four times that counting concubines and kids." He did a quick calculation of floor space. "We may need more room than we have available in briefing rooms and mess halls, Captain. On the plus side, a lot of the volunteers are choosing concubines who have no children. We might be able to double up some of them or configure a few pods as temporary barracks."

Cooper didn't reveal anything with her expression when she told Murphy, "Get as many cots ordered from the replicators as we have space to comfortably accommodate and have Commander Porter report to me as soon as he gets the crowd sorted and settled into the mess halls. See what you can do about getting some replicator stations installed in enough briefing rooms to handle the overflow. I may need to speak with some of the volunteers before tomorrow. Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Aye, ma'am," Murphy replied and withdrew to carry out her instructions.

The extraction had netted a lot more volunteers than even the massive Othello could typically accommodate. It was fortunate that three Aurora-class ships were due, but unfortunate that two didn't arrive until the next day. Quite a few had offered to bunk with a buddy for the trip out, but the Confederacy wanted each volunteer to have private space to bond with his or her concubines and dependents. However, some exceptions were allowed. This was especially true when close friends or families with more than one volunteer in the group were extracted at the same time.

After the typical initiation briefings that evening, Cooper interviewed several ranking volunteers in her conference room, volunteers who had retired from the US Navy. She then conferred with Murphy. "Some of the volunteers aren't a good fit for the current activity at Azahar. I think they'll be much happier managing or manning warships. See if you can identify the volunteers in this category and get them transferred to ships heading to Demeter or Haru."

"Aeolus has checked in empty, Ma'am." Murphy advised. "Perhaps we can move the first group of these eager beavers from temporary accommodations to Aeolus and tactfully ask them to head for Haru instead of Dargo. I don't think this group would make very good pioneers."

Cooper chuckled at Murphy's understatement. "Let me contact Aeolus. Not that you can't be tactful, but Captain Zothos is less likely to turn me down. He and I got to know each other when he and his crew rode to Azahar with us just before Aeolus was ready for her space trials."

Murphy got approval from Cooper within the hour. After some discussions with Othello's AI, he located scores of 20-year veterans who were ready for more action, and doubly ready to engage the Sa'arm. He had no trouble filling Aeolus before lights-out.

While searching the records of the volunteers collected from the rodeo arena, Murphy encountered several interesting, and somewhat colorful, individuals with skills that could enhance the training and research efforts at Azahar. He flagged several that he thought they should expedite out to Azahar and put them into the pool of volunteers that would not be assigned a pod on Othello. He knew that his ship would be stuck in an Earth orbit for several days, if not several weeks.

Othello contacted Zephyrus as soon as the Aurora-class vessel obtained clearance for Earth orbit. "Zephyrus this is Captain Cooper of Othello. Can you take some emigrants from Texas off our hands? We seem to have bit off more than we can chew."

A chuckling voice came back several seconds later. "That's what we're here for, Othello. Any you can send us is that many less that we'll have to extract ourselves. What have you got for us?"

Cooper double-checked the manifest display before responding. "It looks like we need homes for 129. Do you have that many unassigned habitat pods?"

There was another long wait, "Oh yeah, Othello, very funny. We have openings for 96."

"Give us a shout when you get within transporter range and have your transporter rooms manned and ready to receive passengers," Cooper requested. "We'll load you up long before you reach orbit."

Ensign Marvin Clark had Master Gunnery Sergeant Raymond Budzinski report forward with four marines as he headed to the forward transport room of Zephyrus. The ship had not yet descended to Earth orbit from the inbound jump zone, but their transporter room was about to be busy taking on immigrants to Azahar from Othello. Clark didn't want a full load streaming aboard fore and aft at the same time. It was too many for a single squad to safely handle all at once.

It seemed like they had been repeating their spiel for hours when the end was in sight, at least for the forward section of Zephyrus. As soon as this group was safely tucked in it was off to the aft transporter room to do it all over again. Sergeant Budzinski looked to be in a foul mood. Ensign Clark started laughing as the last of the 51 sponsors stepped out of the transporter stream and into the aft transporter room.

Sergeant Budzinski gave Clark a strange look as they herded the last group toward the mess hall. Clark attempted to lighten Budzinski's mood by observing, "It seems that even a Kilo-class can be overloaded. Captain Cooper must be very pleased with herself for netting so many volunteers." Clark looked over the manifest on his PDA. "It seems as though we're going to be doubling up some of our pods as well. There are a lot of dumbass sponsors who didn't pick anyone with kids."

"Idiot beginners," Budzinski mumbled. He had come to hate the little surprises that always managed to pop up during an extraction. He was pissed at himself that he couldn't anticipate them like he could a foe in combat. He was rarely surprised while carrying live ammunition and real weapons, but it occurred rather frequently while carrying these ridiculous stingers.

Out of the blue he asked Clark, "Do you really think we can stand a chance in hell of hitting the Sa'arm underground with foot soldiers, Lieutenant?"

Clark smiled. He figured Budzinski must really be distracted to use the old name for a butter-bar. He wasn't sure either and responded, "Maybe. If we could find out what they have underground, or at least know the layout well enough to avoid being ambushed."

"I don't know," Budzinski replied. "I've been down in their nests. Their hives are really deep and convoluted."

Clark detected the tension in Budzinski's voice and just nodded. Something was bothering the sergeant, but this was not the time to find out what it was.

Chester looked at Miguel who appeared to be focusing on his keg of beer. Both were close enough to overhear the two marines' discussion. "Do a seismic reflection survey," Chester suggested.

"What was that?" Clark asked, somewhat relieved that the tall, slender man had interrupted his conversation with Budzinski.

Chester smiled at what he considered to be greenhorns. "Connect a pattern of microphones to a recorder, set off a sequence of explosive charges, and map the results. In other words, do a seismic reflection survey. That'll tell you where most big things are underground."

Miguel looked up and asked, "How deep's the item y'all are lookin' for?"

"500 to 800 meters," Budzinski supplied, thinking that the depth would shut the dumb cowboys up. Several of the volunteers were carrying roping saddles! Budzinski had no idea what they expected to do with something so ridiculous out among the stars. Others, including the stocky dark-skinned man he was talking with, had a keg of beer on an anti-gravity sled!

Miguel looked puzzled, "Is that all? Hell, ground penetrating radar might be able to reach that far and give better detail. How big is it? What's it made of?"

Budzinski stopped and turned to face the small man, blocking the companionway and causing a ripple effect of near collisions as everyone except Clark came to a halt. Clark stopped a few steps away and turned to see what was going on when he realized that he was suddenly alone.

Clark stepped up behind Budzinski as he was grilling the two volunteers who had broken into their discussion. "What do you two know about this ground radar and reflection thing?" Budzinski demanded as his glaring eyes switched from one to the other.

Neither Chester nor Miguel knew what they had said that made this big guy so unfriendly all of a sudden, but Chester's annoyance was clear when he snapped, "It's what we do for a livin', Bozo. What's got your rope in a knot?"

Clark's laugher help to defuse the powder keg, especially when he asked, "When's the last time someone had the nerve to call you Bozo, Budzinski? Especially someone who's only inches away from your ugly face."

"He's not so ugly," Dorothy countered. "He's kind of cute for someone so big."

Everyone turned to the naked brunette with the big, rust-tipped headlights. She retreated half a step when she suddenly became the center of attention. Budzinski growled, "Marines aren't cute!"

He nodded his head as the young woman gathered her courage and stood straight, giving Budzinski a defiant stare. Budzinski remarked, "Backbone. I like that in people." Looking around he noticed that very few of the crowd averted their gaze when he focused on them. "There seems to be more than the average amount of backbone in this crowd. That or you're so damned ignorant that you don't know it when you're in deep shit."

"Did I hear you say that finding things underground is what you and your friend do for a living?" Clark asked. Before either could answer he added, "I know Budzinski shouted our names in the transporter room, but once again: I'm Ensign Clark and this is Sergeant Budzinski. We're both Confederacy Marines, and you are... ?"

Miguel was closer to Clark and extended his hand, "I'm Miguel Diego and my nosey friend here is Chester Rawlings. Up until today we made our livin' lookin' for oil. We don't normally butt into other people's business, but thought we might be able to give y'all a hand."

Chester let out a whistle when he and Miguel stepped through the hatch that opened into their shared residential pod. He remarked to Miguel without stopping his scan of the pod, "This place sure beats the hell out of the cots we slept on last night."

Miguel had no dependent children and there were blood ties between his concubines and Chester. They were Chester's mother and sister! Chester's youngest concubine, Inez, was Miguel's little sister. Three of Chester's four concubines were strangers to the two sponsors, but two of them were friends with each other. The two men had been sharing quarters in primitive and hostile places for many years making compatibility issues between them very unlikely.

Judy took possession of Chester's right arm. She hugged it between her bare breasts and asked, "What was that you were talking about with those two marines?"

Chester couldn't think with the firm breast flesh burning his arm. "I ... We can talk about that later. Let's check this place out, get the kids settled, and find a quiet place to ... talk."