Chapter 15

Ray-ray's ass hurt, not from sitting in the chairs. Each one molded itself to fit the unique needs and shape of its user. The pinches came from other things in the room. Ray-ray's reasons for discomfort always smiled before, during and after inflicting his bruises. Almost every female in the room seemed to want to know just how firm his nether cheeks were. He felt that fingerprints dotted his thighs, inquiring marks from females who could not get behind him. The restrooms were not bastions of solitude either. A woman dressed in a black uniform followed him in and offered to help him aim at the urinal.

Lunch provided little respite. At least the women let him eat. His tray disappeared once he finished eating, the cost of this assistance, a quick kiss. Back at the meeting table, he found himself tucked in the corner with no escape. Realizing that sexual harassment laws were not the top priority, Ray-ray grinned and suffered silently. Somewhere back on Earth, Dr. Lynda Nelson, his Women in America professor, would be laughing at his predicament.

To complicate matters, he discovered he was destined to be, for better or worse, a Sheriff's Deputy. Ray-ray's new home had a unique mission. Unlike other planets, Wayward's primary function consisted in providing products created by skilled artisan labor, created by managing natural resources. The financial maneuvering behind Wayward sought to help the Darjee fund the war against the Swarm. Ray-ray began to understand the irony. The very replicator technology that the humans thought of as new and exciting, the aliens of the Confederacy were jaded about. True, humanity was a junior member in the Confederacy, but Ray-ray hoped that 'we' humans could grow on the other races.

A majority of the population on Wayward would have concubine level scores. Those scores came under more scrutiny than at most colonies. The existence of the colony rested on the skills of the artisans and the products of the cottage industries. Those scores that would make a good citizen, loyal to the Confederacy, on Wayward replaced the scores that would make a good soldier loyal to the Confederacy on other colonies. The vetting process took the equivalent of five hundred man-hours per person. Once that pool of concubines was created, the AIs further reduced the total numbers of potential colonists by using the scores of their significant others.

Reading a projected community dynamic, Ray-ray decided that most of the time he would be a counselor and confidante rather than a real lawman. With the way the women kept pawing at him, he figured he would end up either the cause for the first domestic battery call or more probably the first murder victim himself.

The various lifestyles once possessed by the new colony members existed no more. Ray-ray discovered that his ultimate boss in law enforcement, Lieutenant Rose Holloman, chaired the table. Her primary role would be as the Commander of the ROTC at the school and commander of the colony militia. One of the target extractees, a glass smith, ended up being married to a shift commander from one of the smaller county sheriff departments in Georgia. Joshua Polanski would be the sheriff, Ray-ray's immediate supervisor.

After the three o'clock stretch break, a brief history of Wayward shed some light on the impetus of the colony. Evidently, two competing Darjee plans were initiated as to how to deal with humanity and the eventual incursion of the Sa'arm. Both plans involved Wayward, a planet with slightly above Earth gravity and twenty percent oxygen in its mixture of breathable air. Sea level on Wayward equated to two thousand feet on earth. Economically, the planet sat close enough to the far edge of the Confederacy. The potential gains fell just below the profit threshold for the AIs to allow colonization by the Darjee themselves.

Humanity's destiny, as written by the Darjee, included Wayward in the top two options. The more conservative plan originally called for the preservation of the human species through relocating some humans to Wayward; specific humans who met the stringent criteria for the creation of a breeding population. Taken secretly, those chosen humans would have been resettled on Wayward, kept apart from Confederacy technology. Initial estimates of Sa'arm expansion, which supported this approach, proved to have significant errors.

During first contact, the Darjee accepted several gifts offered by the humans. Examination determined that some of the gift items were created by the efforts of skilled artisans. Their value, aesthetically and in terms of uniqueness, offered the Darjee a potential resource to offset the cost of resisting the Sa'arm. Wayward became a potential economic engine. The option to use humanity to confront the Sa'arm became feasible.

The Darjee picked Marsha Danvers to be the Governor. Back at USF, in Ray-ray's Environmental Law and Crime class, Danvers had been the subject of a study group's presentation. The woman possessed a will of iron. Her ethics had led her to turn in members of her own environmental group when they proposed violence as a way to draw attention to their cause. Very few people knew that her actions caused her son's indictment and conviction as a co-conspirator.

After the last break, each committee reported their progress. Ray-ray sat next to Bill, in the hope Bill could keep the females at bay.

"Ray-ray, what have you been up to?"

"I had a goal back on Earth. I wanted to get my degree and work in a small town." He glanced over at the Marine who chaired his group. "I never realized I'd have to travel a few billion miles to find it."

The men shared a good laugh. Bill turned somber and took a breath.

"Ray-ray," Bill put his hand on his shoulder. "I have had several requests to..." Bill's face turned a heavy shade of red. "God, several women asked that I lend you out for the night."

Seeing movies and television shows, Ray-ray had wondered why any normal person would do a double take. He now performed a triple take. Ray-ray heard teeth click. They were his.

"It's my fault," confessed Bill. "When I had everyone altered, I intentionally wanted you to be desirable to the women." Bill sounded like a frat pledge desperately trying to apologize for parking on the front steps of the student center. "I had the AI heighten your pheromone production, along with the other enhancements." Looking aft, Bill contemplated the recent past. "The AI literally made you a sexy, sweet smelling, chick magnet."

He was sane. "That explains a lot." Ray-ray patted Bill softly on the upper back. "I have an ego, but what was happening earlier today made me feel like the last bonbon at a weight watchers meeting."

"I've arranged for you to be fine-tuned just for our ladies." Ray-ray made a pouty face. Bill raised a Vulcan eyebrow. "I could wait until tomorrow and send you to your favorite Marine's bunk for the night."

Ray-ray snarfed the fruit drink through his nose. They both laughed for the next few minutes, drawing stares. Bill knew the winks and lip licking were directed at Ray-ray.

The voice of Lieutenant Holloman entered the conversation. "Send him, or better yet, both of you come to Blue Two." She walked back to the table.

"Hell, if I was only ten years ... wait," Bill smiled. "I am." He poked Ray-ray lightly. "I can handle the girls tonight."

"You wouldn't."

Bill put his hand on his right cheek, feigning shock. "You do need to make a good first, second, even a third impression after all." His face shifted from the false shock into a grin. "I'd hate for you not to get your new boss off to a good start."

"You've been learning how to be evil from Leslie. She asked that I rub her ankles tonight."

Bill's grin faded. "The AI just confirmed her wish." He looked at the women in the room. "As soon as this is over, make a dash for the pod."

Governor Daniels introduced herself. She stood at a lectern. Bill prepared himself for a trip to PowerPoint Hell.

"Our new home, Wayward, will begin with nineteen hundred and thirty-six adults. Not everyone is aboard the Kon Tiki." She never looked up. A slab-sided, elongated rectangular prism with running lights appeared on the screen. "Six days behind us, the Stable Class Ship ALS004 Rancho Camulos carries one hundred and fifteen of our fellow citizens. She also carries our livestock, seed, and farm equipment."

The image switched to an expansive green space. Then the view lifted, showing a vaguely hexagonal system of streets. There were no true straight lines. It seemed that the layout conformed to the contours and topography of the rolling hills.

"The intent of these groupings is to create twelve neighborhoods." Blue dots popped onto the screen. "I intended originally to group the households homogeneously; however I was persuaded to randomize the placement of individual family units." The display changed, revealing data about family groups. The detail included hobbies and interests of the individuals involved.

Governor Daniels set few absolutes. One of her most stringent stipulations centered on commuting. She wanted individuals to work away from where they lived. Farmers would work the fields east of the great mountains. The herds would range on a plateau on the southern continent; once winter came a drive would move the herds to a subtropical plain to the north. Wayward's seasons were almost twice as long as Earth's.

Thirteen minutes later, the collected group was ready to let the governor pick their homesteads.

Bill prepared to drag himself back to the pod. He normally hated planning meetings, as they usually entailed a bright idea from some idiot who either hadn't been in a classroom for years or had some miracle product to sell.

Instead, this session involved planning an entire community. Bill found himself right in the middle of the education system. 'System' implied more than sleep training and related practicum. To make the colony concept work, more importantly, to make it viable over the long term, called for vocational and arts education. The written prospectus from the governor proved to be a bit shocking in its scope. Bill was beginning to like her style.

Not every solution or proposal found its inception due to Danvers. Edith's potential alienation was averted by Pre-Teen Girls' Club. Danvers had championed the club as an example of people stepping in to serve a need.

Danvers was willing to admit she didn't have all the answers. Bill knew he didn't have all the answers either. Working in the planning session showed that the group needed to concentrate on the pragmatic and the practical as opposed to rhetoric.