Chapter 7: Wednesday

Major MacAllistor reflected that it was certainly easier, post-extraction, to get up and moving in the morning: no need to shave. The nanites kept facial hair under perfect control.

Still, it did take some effort to kick-start oneself if you hadn't gotten enough sleep, and thanks to the previous day's combination of sixteen special extractions and his two horny concubines, he was running on empty. He blearily glared at the platoon of Marines preparing for the morning's extraction in this hangar deck of the Sir Caradoc.

It was with relief that he welcomed the delivery of a black-no-sugar and a toasted whole-wheat bagel from one of Halifax's finer coffee shops. Beside him at the maintenance workbench so did Tribune Whitefeather and Sub-Decurion Chan with their double-double and English breakfast tea.

At a signal from Whitefeather, the sergeant called his platoon to attention.

"Stand easy, everyone. Today's target is a school having a sports day. We expect a lot of parents to be there. This is one of our patented 'scoops', taking everyone there, regardless of CAP score. We'll start with the routine extraction, which will be aimed at the Aurora-class Princess Yukiko, then before we break free we'll scoop the remaining potential concubines who want to be extracted over to the Kilo-class City of Paris. You can tell the spare concubines that they'll be given standard medical checks, any remaining children under 14 who aren't with them will be extracted, as will their now-ex-spouses and any offspring under the age of 18 who want to join them, especially if their own CAP scores are over six point four. Any questions?"

"What if the kids are there and the parents aren't?" asked one private.

"Good question, some of you have been paying attention. A lot of parents won't be there. There'd better be some parent either home or at their workplace, or the kid isn't going anywhere. We aren't taking any child without at least one parent or guardian. We'll move heaven and Earth to find them, of course."

"What if we encounter any other extractable people at our dependant pick-ups?"

"Take any target of opportunity, especially if they have a CAP score in the volunteer range. Offer to pick up pre-packs as well."

The sergeant realized something. "What if the concubines down there are part of a pre-pack, and don't have their sponsors with them?"

"We contact the sponsor, and grab him and his pre-pack. If we by some luck fill the Princess Yukiko, we'll have spare space on the City of Paris, and there's always more Auroras and Kilos coming. Anything else?"

Nobody could think of anything.

"I know these special scoops have inherent dangers that normal extractions don't have, so please, be extra-careful out there. Don't be sparing on the stingers — if you make a mistake and sting the wrong person, you won't have to worry about it, we'll take all the unconscious and sort 'em out in orbit. I don't want anyone dead, unless they've got a CAP score of nothing-point-one. They're no big loss."

The ship's bell tolled one bell on the forenoon watch: 8:30 AM. The ship's AI announced, "Extraction site is having its assembly right now. All children are on the playing field, as are the parents and teachers. One office staff is currently working in the building. Number of potential extractees present: seven sponsors, one hundred twelve concubines, four hundred twenty-three dependants. Please note that not all dependants appear to have a parent present. Ready for interdiction field activation."

"Activate interdiction field in ten seconds. Let's go people!"

The sergeant and corporal added their bellows. "Let's go, lock and load! Weapons safeties OFF, set for stun, double time! MOVE, you turkeys!!" The troops vanished one by one into the four transporters, to emerge at the four corners of the school yard for maximum shock value.

Tribune Whitefeather turned to the Major. "See you later."

Major MacAllistor grunted. "Good luck with your scoop this afternoon." He paused before he entered the nexus. "I wonder how many concubines from this lot we'll have to recycle?" He then vanished from the Sir Caradoc.

The Tribune and the Sub-Decurion had a much easier morning. Although the company standing by to back up the team at the elementary school could be called upon to back them up too, the pair needed no Marine presence.

They arrived in a Washington, DC CAP scoring centre and proceeded by ground car to the courthouse. Entering by a discreet side entrance, they made their way to Courtroom 203.

The crowd in the courtroom were typical for any court at any time: court recorder, bailiff, prosecutor, a number of attorneys representing the defendants scheduled to be seen that day, the defendants' next of kin, a handful of witnesses and, due to the Confederacy involvement in the case, about a dozen officers armed with tasers and billy clubs. The judge had not arrived yet; the defendants cooled their heels next door, some conferring with their lawyers.

Whitefeather introduced himself to the prosecutor, Lionel Whittaker.

"The judge will enter in about ten minutes. She lives for pomp and circumstance, so enters precisely on time. The first case is yours; the court seems panicked in dealing with Confederacy and gave it highest priority."

One of the defence attorneys strode over, trying to curry favour with the intimidatingly tall Tribune. "Is there anything we can do to make this right, Sir?" he enquired, smiling ingratiatingly.

"You shouldn't be here, Herb," reminded Lionel.

"Screw off, Whittaker," advised Herb pleasantly.

The Tribune regarded the unctuous advocate with some distaste. "You represent all three of the defendants?"

"Yes, I do. Friends of the family."