Chapter 9

Any resemblance between the content of this story or any of the characters depicted herein and real persons or events is highly unlikely and purely coincidental.

"Do I have to do this?" Private Alou Petit looked up, pleading into the eyes of Ensign Enid Mueller.

Mueller's reply gutted his argument. "This is for the honor of your unit."

He retreated into himself and spoke honestly. "I feel like I would be abandoning my child." Though he looked twenty-five, emotionally Alou was still seventeen.

"We have dossiers on the surrogate father." Mueller handed him a folder. "He has one son who is in the Confederacy, and a daughter who is part of targeted extraction for service on a nurse ship." Alou thumbed through the pages. "His sons who are dependents are both projected for command."

Alou stared at the black man in the picture. He reminded him of his childhood friend's father, a bricklayer in Bayonne. Ole man Lafayette had been important in Alou's life. "Will there be other children in the home?"

Mueller pointed at the folder. "There are six presently; reports show the children are responding to him as a father figure."

"The AI picked us as a breeding pair." Alou sounded embarrassed.

Enid grabbed the marine's hands in hers. "The AI gave her twelve genetically promising candidates to choose from."

This raised his left eyebrow. "She picked me?"

Enid patted his hands. "You need to report to the Priam Stables tonight at six."

"Ensign," Alou looked up at her, "that is just wrong."

Sergeant Henri Capoue stuck his head in the doorway, seeing Alou and the ensign. Alou had moped all morning. Henri had been ordered to send him to the ensign. As the one 'survivor' Anton had garnered the lion's share of the praise for their success in the initial simulation. Alou tended to be very shy around people he did not know. It had been a relief to 'die' in the mock exercise after seeing what Anton had endured. "Alou, we need to be at lecture hall Sigma in fifteen."

"Yes, Sergeant." Alou saluted the ensign. Enid returned the salute. He left and hurried to his briefing.

Like most briefings on tactics, there were twenty minutes of useful data and three hours of explanation as to why the data was useful. What made the biggest difference was a design change. Design changes in hatch size and shape created choke points for Swarm units. Magnetic barriers in the surrounding bulkheads would reduce the effectiveness of force knives. Mobile ceramic-based firing stanchions could be affixed to the deck and provide firing points to create kill zones.

Sergeant Capoue found that a very pregnant woman had followed him into the restroom. The fact that the rooms were unisex made him take little notice of her. When he felt the belly-bump press softly into his ass, Capoue knew this was different. Her dark hands found his.

"Tell me when to shake out the dribble." Her voice had a hint of a southern American accent.

Still in midstream, Capoue let her take hold of his pissing cock. Turning slowly to steel himself, his flesh responded to her touch.

"Time to shake, ma belle." Capoue whispered.

She used a triple shake whip that worked perfectly. Her fingers played a tune on his pipe. "Being pregnant makes me so horny." Letting her left hand go, she guided Capoue over to one of the lounges. She shed her tunic, handing it to him. He could see the white skin 'brand' that marked her as concubine of the colony. Capoue placed her tunic on a coat tree next to the lounge.

He admired her rounded form. Something primal lead him to lightly touch her distended abdomen. Running his hands up her torso, he cupped her breasts. Softly he teased the nipples between his fingers. She groaned. Leaning down, he kissed her on the lips. He could feel her finger smearing his precum on his cock head.

She broke the kiss. "I think I didn't shake the snake clear."

Capoue became lost in the idiom. Her lips engulfing his manhood gave a clue.

"Oui, ma belle," he whispered.

She worked him slowly but with enough variety that he let her control the encounter. The attention his crown received kept him hard. What her fingers did to his balls and perineum would have been illegal in Marseille.

Capoue did not fight to stop his orgasm. He knew the concubine would want him to fuck her after he came. Several men in his outfit had been tapped to perform such duties. The facility AI, Rejo, kept score by unit of who provided the most orgasms for the pregnant concubines.

"Belle, I am about to shoot," Capoue warned.

She only winked and began bobbing her head faster.

Three orgasms later, Capoue carried the woman into a shower at the back of the room. She wasn't his. He never asked her name. Shampooing her hair, he chased the suds over her body. He sought to soothe and bring comfort. Old enough to be her father, Capoue wanted her to be happy. He knew he wasn't falling in love with her. "When you are not here, what do you do, ma belle?"

"I work at the warehouse," she turned to face him. "We package up items for shipment to the Darjee trading company." She rubbed soap into his chest, using his hair to build up lather. "I drive a grav loader."

"What of your home?" He suddenly wished he had not asked the question.

Her smirk relieved him. "Compared to the displaced concubine storage on Brakat this is a dream." She began to soap his arms. "I'm beginning to fit in. My baby is from my former sponsor." Pausing, she looked down.

Capoue lifted her chin to look at her. "Ma belle, they tell me that families are being made here for you." He kissed her nose.

"I have one, sorta. It's a work in progress. I am having trouble getting comfortable with the man." She looked left, then right. "He sounds like a backwoods cracker from Mississippi, he's white."

He struggled trying to understand. "Ma belle, I too am blanc, uh white."

"You are French," she looked at him. "He's a cracker."

Capoue understood. "Ma belle, what has he done?"

"Nothing ... everything," she hugged him. "Back on Earth, people who sounded like him were responsible for my grandfather's death."

Capoue turned her back into the shower spray. Once rinsed, he lifted her out. "Was this man there?"

"No, that was many years ago."

"This man, has he harmed you?"

"No."

"Are there other people of color in your home?"

She looked back at him; those two questions caused to her stop and reflect on the situation. "He's the only white person."

"Are there children?" He dabbed and dried their bodies.

"Yes, they adore Jimmy."

He carried her back to her outfit hanging on the coat tree. She yawned. He helped her dress. "This Jimmy, ma belle, perhaps he is not like those men so long ago." Then he slipped on his coveralls. "Give him a chance." He scooped her back up.

She yawned again. "Maybe, I should sleep on it."

Capoue kissed her forehead. "Where is your place to nap?" He knew the phrase was wrong but she was about to go to sleep in his arms.

"Del-" her body shook with the yawn, "Delta two." Three steps later, she purred a tiny snore. The rooms the pregnant concubines slept in were off-limits. When he approached, a concubine stood in his path. Once she realized the cargo he carried was asleep, she motioned him into the doorway. She turned back the covers for his belle. He laid her on the bed and covered her with a soft quilt. Then he tiptoed out of the room. He headed to the mess hall. Capoue wondered about how his kids would view him. He would need to thank his belle. It suddenly dawned on him that he never learned her name.

Mr. Jenkins and Ray-ray pulled him from the A-28 Hornet simulator. Randy was happy, the best he could muster on this simulator would translate to a 'C' minus back on Earth. Then he began to worry. Mr. Jenkins loved to let his victims sweat. When Ray-ray led them to the door, Randy internally panicked. He searched his actions over the last few days. There was nothing to confess. As they marched to the school transport room, he resolved himself as screwed.

Randy appeared in a room he had never seen before. A table with six chairs sat in the center. On the far wall, three displays flipped through different war ships, small arms, and waterfall scenes.

"Welcome, Randy," that voice belonged to Governor Daniels. This was bad. "I am so glad you are here." She motioned to Andres Zucher. "We have a proposition for you."

Maybe he wouldn't be killed. "Yes ma'am." He dropped into survival mode, pretending that this was his teacher, Ms. Jenkins. "What is it?"

"Since you discovered the conflicting messages were sent to the Sandgate Castle-"

Randy interrupted, "Excuse me, I only facilitated the discovery."

"That is understood." It must be a secret mental connection between women, but the look she gave him belonged to Granny Mead. He decided to shut up and listen.

"Yes, but you found the way to frame the question that let others help find the answer." She met his gaze and smiled softly. Danvers began walking toward Randy. "Colinda, as a pre-human-contact AI has been tasked by the home world's AIs to facilitate a solution."

Anders took the floor. "I am to offer you an internship." He crossed to stand by Danvers. "As each military transport picks up or drops off trainees, Colinda and the ship's AI exchange data according to protocol. We need you to sift around and look for what you can discover in those areas of memory."

"Aren't there research projects that can do this better than me?" Randy felt he was being placated. "I feel this is wasteful."

The adults had Randy cornered, there was no place to turn. He decided that if he had to, slipping between the Governor and Mr. Zucher would be an avenue of escape. His eyes darted back and forth. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Randy took a few rapid breaths.