Chapter 8: Thursday

"Yes, Frank, it's important. We're going to have a meeting about the future of Pine Point Resort, and as they're part of the future, so your kids should definitely be there as well — tell them to bring along their boyfriends and girlfriends, if they've got them. Yes, Frank. Good, I'll see you there then. Nice talking to you!" Marianne waited until Frank broke the connection, and then slammed the phone down with a bang. "Obtuse tub of adipose!" she growled. Now she felt better.

The nude woman turned to her equally nude husband. "That's the last of them. They're all going to be there by eleven tomorrow night. Seventy-six households, ready for extraction."

"Excellent, honey! I'll let the Tribune know." Ben tapped away at his computer.

Marianne stretched. "I need to celebrate."

Ben pressed Enter. "How? Dinner and a movie?"

"I know what kind of dinner you'd like," she teased. "Fur pie."

His eyes grew merry. "I'll be right back."

He returned with a can of whipping cream and a container of maraschino cherries. "Can't have pie without the whipped cream, can we?"

"The kids?"

"Swimming in the pool. We've got the den to ourselves."

Marianne gave a 'yelp' and a giggle, as her mate sprayed the can's contents over her crotch. He happily licked her clean, much to her pleasure.

If the carefree couple could see what was on Carrie's computer screen, they'd have realized just how little they had the den to themselves. She'd hacked into the house's security system, and the three girls were shrieking with laughter as they watched the antics of their parents.

"Will we look as dumb when we have sex?" demanded Melodie as Ben mounted Marianne doggy-style.

"Yes," Marcie reassured her, "everyone does. Just, I can't think of too many people who actually lost their cherry literally." They howled as Ben scooted around the couch for the missing red fruit. "Ah, found it!" he called as the girls howled even louder.

"But you have to admit this is kind of hot," pointed out Carrie, holding her side in laughter-induced pain. "And here my rotor's batteries are almost dead."

"Dad keeps the batteries for the smoke detectors in the workshop. Electronics bench, second drawer. He must have almost fifty."

"How do you know?" demanded Melodie.

Marcie shrugged and blushed sheepishly. "I had to replace my rotor's batteries last night."

That elicited more gales of laughter from her sisters.

"I know what," Carrie suggested.

"What?" her sisters demanded, laughter subsiding.

"Let's suggest to Mommy that we turn her into a nyotaimori platter. Look how much Daddy loves sushi."

More howls of laughter as the trio rolled on the pool deck, helpless.

On board CSS John Cabot, things were noticeably quieter. Major James MacAllistor sat in Tribune William Whitefeather's office, tiredly nursing a glass of McLelland's.

"No problem at the school?"

"A few of the kids panicked and ran for mommy when the interdiction field went up and the Marines started popping out of the nexus, but nothing serious. No injuries to staff, students or parents, nor to my men. We got all the students, their parents — most of whom are single mothers, by the way — and the staff. We've finally finished with the dependant pick-ups and getting everyone indoctrinated about the difference between their new lives as concubines and their old ones as free humans. We'll have a fine group for the Pine Point crowd to choose their concubines from. You?"

"The court is happy that the three idiots decided to plead guilty. We've got a damned good operator for the brothel on Borneo, she ships out tomorrow with her six concubines on a Patrician-class corvette. Can you believe that a Beltway madam had a CAP score of eight point one?"

"Hey," James pointed out, "she's servicing the elite, she'd almost have to have good scores for management and customer service."

"Anyway, then we went and talked to that brewery. It's a little craft place in the heart of Germany and thereby subject to the German purity laws, just what the doctor ordered. They even had contacts who grew the ingredients they needed, and everyone had their pre-packs ready too. Sir Francis Drake is finished her space trials and ready for a trip; I'll load them up on her and off to Atlantisat they go, complete with seeds for the hops and whatnot. We've scanned the design of the brewery in, so that can be easily replicated."

"Any chance of getting a scotch distillery there?" He hefted his glass to emphasize the point.

"I'm still working on a Guinness brewmaster before I can even touch a distiller of fine scotch. I've got requests for brewmasters from a dozen worlds including Albion, with an additional pretty-please if it's from the Guinness brewery. The problem is, you also need to extract the organic raw materials and have someone who knows enough about growing those. And farmers are isolated and damned difficult to extract."

"How about that battered women's shelter?"

"They were real skittish, the women trust men about as much as I trust a rattlesnake, they've been bit too often. However, we can probably get somewhere if we go in with female sponsors needing female concubines, and with a platoon of female marines."