Chapter 2

As I stepped onto the portal, I felt a wave of dizziness. My ears registered the change in sound from the small coffee shop to a gymnasium-sized room, half-filled with mostly naked people all talking at the same time. It was confusing for a moment as my local horizon had just shifted a few degrees and the gravity dropped slightly, giving me the sensation of getting to the top of the stairs and taking that one more step that wasn’t there.

I caught myself with my cane, letting my eyes provide the local horizon and not my inner ears. A fellow in a black uniform took me by the elbow, urging me forward to clear the portal.

The air carried the smell of metal, disinfectants, and human distress. The crowd here was much larger than had stepped through from the coffee shop. I learned later that there were several North American pickups going on at the same time. Most of the people in the room were women and almost all of them were naked. Many of the women seemed to fit a type: big hair, big tits, and big nails, but, if their current behaviors were any example, small brains. There was a scattering of women who seemed matronly, a couple of teenagers, and a few small, crying children. About one in three people was clothed. They must have been the new sponsors.

If the sponsors I was seeing were the cream of Earth’s crop, we were well and truly screwed.

My girls had stepped through just seconds before me; I tried to locate them in the crowd. The girls had lost their clothes and since the girls had just exited the portal, their backs were to me and I hadn’t yet memorized their naked asses. I found it hard to distinguish them from all the other naked people filling the room. Do you realize how many visual signals we send and receive by the clothes we wear? People who have been in military basic training do. One of the first things the military does to a new recruit is to take away his former identity by taking away his civilian clothes and his civilian haircut. The guy who you had just befriended in the intake process becomes temporarily unrecognizable.

But there was redheaded Ruth, holding her purse high over her head, with the four bag-carrying girls, like ducklings in a row, following her to one corner of the room. Clever lass!

She seemed to have the kids in hand, so I sauntered up to a dais upon which several uniformed personnel were standing with crossed arms, overlooking the chaos of the crowd. “What’s next, troop?” I asked over the rising background noise of voices.

The nearest turned and looked down on me. He looked preoccupied for a second, and then his face brightened. “Master Sergeant Steward, glad to see you made it. I hope that you were able to fill out your harem allotment?”

I was momentarily annoyed by the fact that everybody seemed to know who I was. I couldn’t read their naval rank markings and the fellow’s crossed arms were blocking his nametag. “And you are?” I asked with as little sarcasm as I could manage right then.

A lazy grin split his face and he said, “Don’t worry Master Sergeant; we’ll have you up to speed in 72 hours or your money back. I’m Commander Rand. And I see that you came up one short.”

I snorted, “Not a problem sir. I wasn’t looking to drag along trouble just to fill out the TOE. I figure that there will be more chances later. No military I’ve ever known was able to make a troop movement above squad level without some loose headcount,” I looked out over the crowd, “and that never included official camp followers.”

“Right you are, Sergeant.” He cocked his head as though hearing a whispered cue. “Now if you’ll locate your little darlings, we’ve got to spin this mostly-civilian sow’s ear into the gold of military intake. Get your darlings right up here next to the platform and you can miss most of the upcoming clusterfuck.”

“Right. Give me thirty seconds.” I spun around and located Ruth and the girls in the near corner, looking lost and woebegone in their newly decreed nudity, trying to shield themselves with my shopping bags. I eeled through the crowd and got them into a huddle.

“Okay girls, we are jumping to the front of the line and getting out of this crowd.” They looked grateful and I led them back to the foot of the platform.

Commander Rand saw our approach and nodded to another troop, this one in a green uniform that had chevrons and rockers on his sleeve.

That NCO addressed the crowd, his voice amplified by some technology that didn’t seem to need visible microphones or speakers. “Attention. ATTENTION!” At the sound of his amplified voice, the crowd’s noise level dropped. “I am Sergeant Major McCoy. There are only three people in this room that know what y’all need to do to get food, medical attention, and a warm bunk, and I’m the only one of them who’s talking. So, everybody SHUT UP until you are told what you need to hear.”

The crowd grew mostly silent. Again, anybody who has been in the military knows that it takes training for civilians to realize that order given to a crowd applies to each of them personally, especially an order for silence. There is always 10% who think that the order doesn’t apply to them, and 5% who are sure that whatever they have spewing out of their pieholes at any moment is more important to the people within earshot than whatever the person in charge is saying.

Civilians. I wondered how many of those yakkers were sponsors.

“Now, all you sponsors need to locate your charges, concubines and minor children. When you do so,” the noise level in the room increased as sponsors turned around right then to start talking, without waiting to hear the next step. “WHEN YOU DO SO,” he raised his voice over a surge of noise, “You need to collect their CAP cards and the following information. Are there any medical issues that they need immediately addressed? Are there any dependent children that need pickup?” The crowd noise rose even higher, “Collect that information and bring it to one of the cadre on the platform. Form a line right behind this tall, dangerous-looking man right here.” He waved a hand at me.

I turned to ask the girls, but Ruth was ready. “No dependent children, Mr. Steward. Phyllis wears contacts and needs supplies; Kellie is diabetic, she controls it with pills.” She had collected the CAP cards and handed them to me in a stack. I gave them a quick count along their edges, coming up with one extra until I realized that, duh, it was my own. I nodded to the girls and turned back to Sergeant Major McCoy.

He nodded smugly and had me wait for a few seconds until several other sponsors had formed behind me in a queue. “Master Sergeant, if you will lead your happy band through the door behind me and follow the red glowing line, you will find your way to Sick Bay. When you all are done there, you’ll be shown to your quarters.”

I nodded, gave a crisp, “Yes, sir,” and led the girls around the platform, through the door, and into a long, curving hallway. Behind me I heard McCoy yelling at the next sponsor in line, “Hold on there, cowboy! I didn’t tell you to leave, did I? You and your crowd of whores just wait there until I tell you to move!” On the floor a red stripe pulsed and glowed. I looked back at Ruth, and at her nod, led the way down the hall.

After about 40 yards, the glowing strip turned left and disappeared into a wall. As we approached that part of the wall, it slid aside and we entered a suite of white rooms dominated by rows of identical translucent flattened cylinders lining the walls, each around three yards long. I snorted to myself. Anybody who had ever seen a science fiction film would recognize them as people tubes of one sort or another. The girls followed me in with Ruth bringing up the rear. And cute rears they were.

A fellow with a white uniform bearing what I took to be a medic’s insignia bustled up. “Master Sergeant Steward?” he asked, as though to confirm what I was sure the AI was already telling him. He paused, and then said, “I am Corpsman McNally, and right now we’re going to take care of any basic medical needs that you or your concubines have. Can I have your CAP cards?”

I handed him the stack of cards, then turned and nodded at Ruth. She recited what she told me in the intake room, “Phyllis wears contacts and needs supplies,” she pointed at Phyllis, who nodded, “Kellie is diabetic, and she controls it with these pills.” The corpsman nodded absently, tapping a small pad in his hands. He glanced at the pill bottle and muttered under his breath. Finally, he looked up at me, took a deep breath, and started walking down the row of people-sized tubes, tapping them as he went. As he tapped them, the tubes lit up and their tops slid smoothly back.

“Okay, Master Sargent Steward, you’ll have the first tube here, the concubine with diabetes takes the next one, the concubine with the contacts takes the next one, and have her remove those contacts before she gets in, and the final three go in the next three tubes, no special order. Please remove your clothes before entering the pod and drop them and the bags and purses next to the pods; the AI keeps an eye on everything. Sorry to hurry you, but since you got here before the crowd, I’d like to get you all started right away because there is always an almighty cock-up when this place gets jammed.”

Ruth asked, “Is this where we decide what we want to look like?”

The corpsman laughed but did not talk directly to the girls. I noticed that all his questions and remarks had been made to me. “Oh, no, Master Sergeant. This is just the intake process to get everybody loaded with the medical nanites. Master Sargent, you’ll get an AI link, too, of course.”

“Of course,” I replied. “Okay girls, hop in.” They seemed hesitant, so I helped lift them one by one into the pods. Before the corpsman closed each tube, I gave the girl in it a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. Kellie, the girl I hadn’t known, had tears pooling in her eyes. I kissed her on the forehead and squeezed her hand. As I got to Ruth, I smiled and kissed her briefly on the mouth. She relaxed and smiled back. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

I’d heard urban legends from veteran’s social media about that first time in the tube. Reportedly, you came out aged 18, full of piss and vinegar, ready to tear into a Sa’arm or wear out a Bangkok whorehouse. Sadly, it didn’t work that way. The lid over my head slid closed; and immediately the lid slid back, and I sat up. Was there a problem with the equipment?

Yow! A sharp pain shot down my bum leg from my hip joint. I swung my legs over the side of the tube and stumbled a little when I landed. My bum leg suddenly wasn’t taking the weight well. Little Kellie jumped over and got her shoulder under my armpit. I steadied myself on the tube opening and reached down to retrieve my clothes. I looked around and saw that all the girls were out of their tubes, looking grateful to see me. I guessed the equipment had been working after all, and that while I wasn’t there, they had pretty much been non-persons. The room was now full of people from the receiving area and there was a dull roar of voices.

A corpsman disengaged himself from a crowd of sponsors and concubines that were trying to get his attention and turned to me. “Don’t worry about the leg and hip. The nanites will be repairing it over the next couple of weeks. Be sure to stay hydrated and eat your full rations and supplements. Those things need raw materials to build with. Get your stuff and follow the flashing green arrows in the hall.”

I started to thank him, but he had already turned away, urging the crowd of newcomers to move to a set of pods well down the wall. “C’mon, girls, it’s time to find our bunks.” I parceled out the bags and grabbed a double armful of girls, then limped back into the hall.

“How long was I in the tube?” I asked as we followed the green arrows that flashed to life in front of us, disappearing as we passed.

The girls said that they all got out of their pods at about the same time, and that I was in the tube for another ten or fifteen minutes. “Of course, that’s just a guess. I didn’t think to check my watch,” said Diane. “They wanted our tubes for other people, so we just stood next to your tube and waited. It was kind of scary, waiting for you.”

The other girls started to talk, but another voice overrode them. <You were in the pod for sixty-seven minutes, Sponsor Steward, > said a voice that was clear and precise. Though it carried no obvious masculine gender, in pitch I would call it a tenor. The girls kept talking as though they hadn’t heard the voice. I realized that the voice had been the AI link in my head. At first it seemed a bit creepy, hearing voices no one else heard. Like the old joke says: What’s the difference between prayer and schizophrenia? In prayer you talk to God, in schizophrenia, God talks to you. I wondered how people’s mental health was going to be impacted by the new technologies they encountered in pick up. Although the AI link was cool in a covert way, I hoped I didn’t start zoning out in mid-conversation like the troops that I had met.

Finally, after two jogs right and one left, the flashing green arrows stopped at an odd-looking door. Ruth tried to walk through it, expecting it to respond to her presence like the doors at a supermarket. She bumped her nose smartly, finding out it didn’t.

“AI, open the door to my quarters.” I spoke out to the ceiling. The door slid noiselessly open. I hustled the girls through and was halfway across the room before I noticed that the door was still open. “AI, close the door to my quarters.” The door closed silently. “Damn literal machines,” I swore under my breath. The girls all started talking at once, but the AI inside my head said, <I can operate in a more predictive manner, if you so choose Sponsor Steward.>

I raised my voice and said, “Stop!” Both the girl’s voices and the AI stopped. I held my finger to my lips in the “shhh” gesture. “AI, respond audibly to the room.”

“As you wish, Sponsor Steward,” The girl’s jumped at the voice.

Hmmm. What first? “AI, do you have any messages for me?”

“Sponsor Steward, you have four new messages. Two are standard reminders to initiate training of yourself and you concubines. Two are greetings from the captain of the ship and one of those is an invitation to dine with the Captain.”

“AI, when is my next appointment?”

“Sponsor Steward, you have no appointments, but you are requested to bring no more than one concubine to eat at the Captain’s cabin tomorrow at 1700 hours.”

I blinked. “AI, what is the current ship’s time?”

“Sponsor Steward, ship’s time is currently synchronized to UTC or Greenwich time, which is 1847 hours.”

I winked at the girls. “AI, can I change the way I address you?”

“Of course, Sponsor Steward, just specify the new designation.”

“AI, I specify that you respond to the name ‘Alfred.’”

“Yes, Sponsor Steward.”

“Alfred, you will make yourself available for queries and for domestic controls for all of my concubines.”

“Yes, Sponsor Steward.”

“That will be all for now, Alfred.”

“Yes, Sponsor Steward.”

Two of the girls giggled and Diane explained the “Batman” reference to the others.

I looked around the room. It was all rounded surfaces in colors that ranged from pale gray to light smoke, and darker gray. “Monsanto,” I muttered. The girls didn’t understand, so I told them of my boyhood memory of visiting a “House of the Future” sponsored by a chemical company, that was made of plastic.

The girls fell silent. The room was almost completely silent. I couldn’t hear any hint of machinery noises. The room’s air was fresh, but I didn’t hear any fans or wind noise. Now that we were alone and still, the reactions to the huge, life changing step we had all taken were starting get to the girls and me. I heard a couple of sniffles. Even though we were in a large room, the girls all huddled around me, as though they needed each other’s human touch to remind them that they weren’t alone. I peeked through an open arched doorway and saw a large platform that might be a bed. “Come in here everybody,” I called.