Chapter 10: Friday

It had been a frantic night for Trubune Whitefeather dealing with the aftermath of the Battle of Baltimore. After dealing all night with extracted females from the shelter, he was just able to get a shower in. Then he called his concubine and his partner on board the Cabot and reassured the two ladies that he was indeed all right and would be home soon, and got his aide to head Earthside for a much-needed double-double.

"Now, Sub-Decurion Whitefeather!" he called. Callie Whitefeather, former concubine and now Civil Service officer, yelped. She still wasn't used to her sponsor status. "Get into some Civil Service greys and get your butt over to the Clara Barton! We've got some concubines who need some educating!" He turned serious. "Take Della with you. You need to start picking out your concubines, and I'd like the two of you to pick out some candidates for my slots. Try to pick five people the three of us can get along with. I'll need at least one if not two nurturing types, and a straw boss to keep things together when neither of us are home. I'll come over around supper time and meet the candidates."

"OK, love, see you at supper. What do you want for dinner anyway?"

He considered for a moment. "French Canadian meat pie, Duchess potatoes and steamed garden vegetables. Apple blossom for dessert. Sound good?"

"Oh, that sounds fantastic. Later, then!" And with that, Callie broke the connection.

Through the morning, the interrogations continued. Secretly, other men were brought in. Finally, the last of the actors in the overnight drama were gathered in one spot.

Meanwhile, on board CSS Clara Barton, another, different drama was unfolding.

Tribune Whitefeather and three police officers were standing by the medical pod that held the fourth officer, the most seriously wounded hero from the previous night.

As he woke up, the officer was delighted to see his friends, and delighted to be advised that he was going to live and even be in better shape than before he showed up for his shift.

The first thing he was permitted to do was call his wife and kids and assure them he'd be coming home shortly. The second thing he did was enquire about extractions.

Tribune Whitefeather considered for a moment. All four would make superb Marines, they had the CAP scores. They weren't what he needed on Atlantis, however. He had the AI put him in touch with his bosses, who advised him of an expected Baltimore pickup the next Tuesday.

"Here, gentlemen, look at this for a moment." He handed each a game-boy sized device that pricked their fingers. They would now feel the crying need to go to a particular restaurant with their wives and other concubines on Tuesday night. He put in a call to the restaurant in question and placed a reservation for seven PM for the four police officers and their pre-packs.

William could do nothing more for them. He escorted them to the transporter room, took them to a CAP testing centre in Baltimore's downtown, and drove them to a reunion with their wives and their fellow officers at their precinct house.

William still had one last duty to perform before the morning was over. On his return to the Barton, he went to see his old friend, retired USMC Colonel Henry "Howling Mad" Hollister.

He entered the medical bay where a large-breasted concubine nurse was fussing over Hollister's bed sheets.

"Did I interrupt anything?" he leered, observing the obvious lack of brassiere on the buxom beauty.

"Not yet. But the AI tells me it's just a matter of time." Henry looked directly at William. "So, when do I return to Earth?"

"Do you want to? We have a military academy to set up on Atlantis, and it needs an instructor of military history."

Henry blinked. "Do tell? I thought I was too old to extract?"

"Not quite. You're still shooting live ammo. The nanites have refreshed that, so you're good to go. With a CAP score of 8.7, just ask and six concubines are yours. Seven if you take a couple with kids, and eight if one of those eight has a high enough nurturing score."

"And what do I have to do to get that?"

"Just ask to be extracted."

"I thought I already had been."

"Oh no," replied William, "you had been evacuated, but not extracted. We couldn't keep you unless you said strong and clear that you wanted to be extracted."

"Nurse!" Henry called, his drill-sergeant voice clear and strong.

"Yes, Mr. Hollister?"

"Don't 'Mr. Hollister' me. I WORK for a living!" He pointed imperiously at William. "Get this man a straightjacket. If he thinks he has to ask if I want to fight the Sa'arm, he must be nuts." He turned back to William. "Dammit, I'm going to the stars. Try to keep me back."

"That's the spirit, old-timer. I'll see when the doctor will discharge you."

"It'll be now, if he knows what's good for him."

William bent low and whispered in his old friend's ear. "It'll be after you have a chance to boff your nurse, if you know what's good for you!"

As William left the ward to consult with Henry's physician, he was delighted to hear the laughter in the old man's voice.