Chapter 15: Swimming with the Fishy Barber

Optio Samantha Redburn was the first to show up for the meeting. She'd called her father to collect Smokey and bring him home to the family pod, and gone directly to the Colonel's gathering from the pet pods. The others showed up shortly after that, most still taking a moment to adjust the fastenings of their daily uniform.

As Lieutenant Carruthers arrived, the Colonel harrumphed and addressed the staff. "You are going to love this. There's a push on to get this sector up to plan. We're receiving the Pisces Clipper today, and with it two other vessels."

"Two other kilopods?" hazarded Butch.

"God I hope not," winced Carruthers.

"No, not kilopods. The cargo vessel CSS Dogsledis carrying enough industrial replication equipment to allow us to manufacture our own armour, right on up to Rommels. And the other ship is an Aurora-class filled with Navy types, experts in setting up and running a complete orbiting port."

Everyone nodded appreciatively.

"And," he looked apologetically at Samantha, "their families. So instead of getting 1,024 families, you're getting 1,120, and you'll have to start spending a small part of your time at Scott Base."

"Sir, just for your information, Scott Base is not yet ready to receive families. We were advised that it didn't need to be ready until after the last of the five kilopods had delivered the final draft of Brigade personnel. We've been busy building other Navy facilities and Martellos." Carruthers looked sick.

The Colonel winced. "I do recall, now that you mention it." He thought for a moment. "Nothing we can do about it now. We'll put them in Camp Shackleton until Base Scott can be made ready. I know Navy and Marines don't usually mix well, but I don't see as we have a choice."

"Sir, if there's anything in the way of good news to report," advised Samantha, "it's that the adult concubines that arrived on the Aurora..."

"Something goodarrived with the Aurora?" the Colonel snorted. "I thought her an accursed ship."

"Yes, sir," Samantha stated mildly. Something good hadarrived, something good besides Smokey. "Almost all of the adult concubines are trained and accredited teachers. About 1/3 high and middle school experienced, and another two-thirds elementary school experienced."

"I think we're going to need them," Lieutenant-Colonel Desrocher observed.

"I agree, Sir," nodded Samantha, anxious to get the hell out of there.

When the three ships entered normal space, nobody was surprised. CSS Dogsled was treated as if it were Santa's sleigh on Christmas morning – as promised, it contained two full factories, one an orbital facility, and the other a ground-based one.

CSS Challenger brought 96 pods full of Fleet Auxiliary, not the Regular Navy that was advertised. While they were somewhat dismayed to discover that at least temporarily they'd be living in a Marine camp, the fact they were charged with preparing the orbital facilities to take on Tarawas actually made them quite popular with the more bloodthirsty among the Marines, anxious to go into battle.

And CSS Pisces Clipper delivered another thousand and more raw recruits, coming so close on the heels of the last draft as to almost overwhelming the abilities of the Brigade to absorb and train all their newcomers.

To help her, Optio Redburn pulled a page from David ap Rhys, with a uniquely Thule twist. With the permission of the Colonel, she drafted every NCO's straw boss and placed them in Civil Service grey. Their rank badges were the red Reserve equivalent of their sponsors: lance-jack for lance-jack, corporal for corporal, and sergeant for sergeant.

Lieutenant Carruthers had managed to find Samantha larger office space: by parcelling out some of the 14-year-old concubines to foster-sponsors whose 13-year-olds were expected to CAP score at over 6.4 and thus take (presumably, hopefully) the two girls being fostered, they'd freed up yet another pod. Located right next door to the pet pods, the lower half was reserved for her office and the upper for Vickie's veterinary surgery.

The AI announced the presence of Sergeant Kowalski and a Sergeant whose name she couldn't place: Evans. Plus one concubine.

The door to her new office opened to reveal Sergeant Kowalski escorting Fleet Auxiliary Sergeant Evans and a short, wiry, obviously terrified Hispanic man covered in tattoos and wearing a concubine shift. "Sergeant Evans reporting with prisoner, SIR!" came the unexpected greeting.

Prisoner? Concubine prisoners were either spaced or recycled, not sent to the Civil Service officer. She might get the case to review, but rarely would they deposit a concubine in with her unassigned caseload, and never a prisoner.

"What has he done?" she demanded, trying to hide her confusion.

"Ran a grow-op, Sir." The sergeant handed over a chip containing the man's records – unnecessary, as the AI would undoubtedly have a copy of it already.

"Ran a grow-op, Sergeant? Where? In a pod? Wouldn't it be detected by an AI?"

"Houston, Texas, I gather, Sir."

She stared at the scared man between the two sergeants. "Texas?" she asked dubiously.

"It ... says ... in there..." He pointed to the data chip.

"It speaks." She shoved the chip in the reader. The picture showed a handsome young Asian man with sub-decurion rank badges on his grey dress uniform.

"Optio Samantha Redburn, I am Sub-Decurion Alan Chan. My apologies for a lack of advance warning, but we had a situation to deal with as soon as possible. The man before you, Juan Medina, was a requested transfer by the Texas State Department of Justice. He provided States' Evidence in a case against a drug cartel, and requires witness protection. As per an agreement we have with the United States Government, we are sending him to the Diaspora for protection, along with his family of one wife and one son. I regret that neither he nor his wife is sponsor-level, however they are also neither scoring high for a criminal mentality. If it is at all possible, I request that you find them a single sponsor. They together will take the position of hydroponics agriculturist that I am told is currently vacant."

Lovely. A criminal. Just what she always wanted. She hoped he was crate-trained.

"I don't know if this was a good idea or not for you, but time will tell. Your record has been expunged, or rather never existed out here. Whether you succeed or fail is entirely up to you. You have a clean slate. Mind you, the AI watch everything we do and listen to everything we say, so if you screw up they will know and we will know, instantly."

He gulped – she was getting through, she saw.

"You are a concubine, which basically means slave. You are going to be owned by somebody – and who that 'somebody' is, that's up to me. You are my property right now, you and your wife. Excuse me, your ex-wife. As you saw I've been asked to try to get you two a spot together, but that's not guaranteed, and even if it is, you're going to be sharing your now-ex-wife with someone else." She thought for a moment. "Lieutenant Carruthers is in charge of all facilities on Thule, so during your work day, you'll report to him – God help you both. Right now he's up to his ass in alligators, so I'll just ask him to find you a home you can stay in for the time being. He's going to love this one."

She sighed. "OK, now, where would your now-ex-wife and your child be?"

"She and my son are up on the Pisces Clipper. My son is only a month old; he is why I turned states' evidence. They were threatening his life, and neither of us wanted him raised as a gang kid."

She checked his CAP numbers: as advertised, low on the criminal mentality scale, high on the family loyalty scale. Threaten his kid, earn his wrath. His wife Maria had similar numbers. Opposites apparently didn't attract in this case.

"Sergeant-Major Blondell?" Samantha called to the ceiling.

"Yes, Optio Redburn?" came the disembodied response a moment later. Butch must be under the same stresses as the officers, Samantha realized.

"Please send a corporal to the Pisces Clipper for a prisoner transfer." Quickly she relayed what she knew of the situation. She turned to Juan. "Any luggage?

"Just these concubine shifts. They had us leave immediately after we provided evidence."

"Sergeant-Major Blondell, you heard?"

"Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir."