Chapter 17

For the first two weeks on the ship, Maggie watched. Ever since her parents had divorced, she'd learned to be 'seen and not heard'. Over the last five years, her mother and she lived in the same apartment, on their own.

Her mom had dated off and on during that time. Recently, she had been seeing a guy named Robert. He was really nice and her mom laughed more with him in her life.

Mrs. Carlson – no, she had to refer her as Tiffany -- Tiffany never said, "I'll be your mom." The actions and comfort given by Tiffany helped. Maggie would always miss her mom.

Maggie sent videos back to Earth. The first reply came a few days after being on the ship. She sent back four more before they went into hyperspace. On the last one, she asked Robert to watch over her mom. Thereafter, she made one every few days, to be sent back to Earth once the Kon Tiki arrived at Wayward.

Tiny black hairs started showing up between her legs. The area under her nipples felt tender. Talking with Tiffany confirmed her suspicions. At twelve, Maggie had started puberty. So far, everything seemed to be going easy.

Maggie changed the time she showered every night. Over the past month Bert, Ted, and even Randy had started developing muscles. They were nowhere near the ones Mr. Jenkins or Ray-ray sported. In the shower spray, those muscles flexed. Often their cocks sported stiffies.

Tonight, Maggie liked the shape of the butts the best. Wiping her mound brought a tiny shudder. Maggie realized no one was watching her. She stroked the hooded part in the middle. Leslie had called it her clit. Another shudder shook her bodily. Turning to prop her head on the shower wall, she closed her eyes and continued.

"Maggie," that was Bert's voice. "Do you want privacy?"

Opening her eyes, she saw Bert standing next to her. She looked down. Bert had a good stiffy. She shook her head no.

"I'll go back to my shower." He walked back over to his showerhead.

Maggie watched the butt muscles flex on his return. Stepping on the bar of soap, she slipped to the floor. Her butt stung from the ordeal.

Bert came over to see about her. "Are you OK?"

She could only nod. Grabbing both of Maggie's forearms, Bert lifted her to a standing position. Feeling his power in the act caused her heart to flutter. Bert placed her under the water stream, rinsing her clean.

"We'll be late for dinner." He turned and headed to the exit.

Maggie enjoyed the show. She followed him out, grabbing her own towel. Bert grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank top. He watched her watching him. Returning the favor, he kept his eyes on her while she finished toweling off and dressed.

Bert walked her to the lift. Together they descended to the lower level.

Leslie led the other concubines through the initial Tai Chi forms. They had started performing them as a way to familiarize themselves with their new bodies. Several times, it had helped spice up their bedroom. Keeping the boy's hands blocked from grabbing flesh for a few minutes built tension.

Understanding the positions was one thing; fluidly transitioning between them took practice. The exercise regimen built a bond between the concubines. It also allowed Leslie to gauge the effectiveness of sleep training. Having the knowledge did not make one proficient in the art.

Tiffany demonstrated the benefits of dedicating time and effort in the application of sleep training. In light of her recovery, she had concentrated on any physical activity to help better her body control.

Trying to mesh and find common ground with Joyce, Leslie had chosen a sleep training course that Hobson surmised would give her the basic knowledge to work with macramé ropes. Leslie thought it would make learning macramé easier. She was wrong. Leslie couldn't get the proportions right to her eye. Joyce encouraged her, telling Leslie about early disasters she had made while learning.

Finding the work challenging, Leslie stuck with it. She even asked Hobson if the Darjee understood the concept of factory seconds. After conferring with the Kon Tiki's AI, Hobson announced a proposal would be sent to the Darjee Trading Council.

Leslie took her experiences at amateur macramé and years of surviving teaching middle school and began formulating a plan. The majority of current educational convention revolved around sleep training and a practicum. Leslie viewed this as an oversimplification. Aptitude, interest, and drive; these were prevalent in most successful people. The education system would need to foster critical problem solving. Some components of critical thinking could be taught and some developed over time; the real trick would be getting them to coalesce and function.

"Hobson," Leslie found it hard to tone down her enthusiasm. "Do you have any information on the Mind Meld competitions?"

"I have information on both the organization and the competitions."

"Could the information on both parts be made available?"

"The information is accessible on any interface in the pod."

"Good. Hobson?" Leslie had an evil thought. "What are the copyright laws out here in space?"

"I need you to clarify the context of your question."

Leslie took a moment to phrase her response. "I want to hold a Mind Meld Competition on Wayward." She paced across the floor; formulating her thoughts. "Having the students apply creative solutions to Confederacy problems should help produce more effective individuals." She stopped and turned, looking at the spot where Hobson's voice had emanated from. "We might even find some ideas worth exploring."

Hobson did not answer as quickly as usual. "Leslie, there is a great deal of potential in your proposal. The leadership opportunities present in the team activities warrant implementation. Some modification of the rules will need to take place. A request will be placed on an available superluminal drone to pay the fees for an educational franchise."

Leslie had to think a minute. A franchise opened the ability to change the problems. Then it dawned on her. That would give the franchised institution the ability to add challenges at local and regional events. The steering committee could tailor events for the Confederacy. "That, my friend, is excellent."

"The colony AI will be a member of the steering committee."

Leslie realized then that Hobson was part of a large network. She wanted to console Hobson, even though he had no emotions. Over the time spent traveling to the colony, she had begun to think of Hobson as a person. "I would have preferred working with you, Hobson."

"I can and will serve as your connection to the colony AI while you are working from the pod."

Nodding, Leslie wished the franchise would stay a Jenkins' affair. Hobson was a part of the family.

Thinking of family, "Hobson?" Leslie redirected her thoughts.

"Yes."

"Are there any concerns with the brood?" She walked to the entrance of the study. With Bill helping to flesh out the colony, Leslie had moved into mother hen mode for her former students. She had instituted a daily journal. Back in her classroom, Leslie once used these to get her students to focus their thoughts on writing and research projects. No one complained now. It provided a bit of familiarity and a sense of normalcy, especially since it wasn't for a grade.

"Eve has expressed some concern that the baby is starting to show and others will think she is fat." Leslie placed her hand on her own midsection. "June is beginning to request sleep trainings that will improve her overall CAP score. Louis is becoming more voyeuristic."

"Have the subjects complained?"

"Based on my observations, only one party was aware that Louis was watching."

"Can I view the incident please?"

Leslie moved the orientation of the perspective around the shower. Splitting the screen, she observed where Louis was watching.

"Hobson," Leslie tapped her fingers rhythmically together.

"Leslie, do you require something?"

"I need to see any of Louis's entries when he refers to masturbating or seeing something he considers sexually exciting."

Fifteen entries appeared on the screen. Leslie opened he first file.

Of the nineteen hundred and thirty-six people on the Kon Tiki, one hundred and thirty two met the parameters to be classified as potential Mind Meld participants. Of that number, eighty-seven students and twenty parents sat in the cafeteria.

Leslie stood to address the group. "Welcome, this is an organizational meeting of the First Confederacy Mind Meld Competition." It felt normal; much like hosting a parent night. "We want to help our children become productive entities in the Confederacy. To do this, we need to have our children learn to apply themselves in problem solving and leadership in our new reality." Behind Leslie, the wall changed to show the stylized Mind Meld logo on the wall. "Each pod AI has the specifics of the competition."

The floor changed to show three sectors of a circle: red, blue, and yellow. "Kindergarten through second grade will move to the yellow floor, third to fifth grade blue, finally sixth to eighth red."