Chapter 88

Dear Willow and family,

Gunner Sgt? Did you transfer to the Navy?

I think space is a lot more odd than the Darjee have lead us to believe. I know that hyperspace is odd from this trip through it. The captain (an ensign) of the Aer Lingus really started to stress out when his subspace radio wouldn't work.

The AI got awfully touchy too. I don't think any of them (AI's) like admitting that they're not both omniscient and omnipotent. I suspect that they really relish the fact that we are in awe of them. And they really don't want to give that awe away.

Of course I'm only guessing about the motivation behind the AI's unwillingness to tell us about things. There remains the fact that for most of humanity we simply don't have the knowledge base to understand what we're being told by the AIs. I've asked to have yet more math stuffed into my head in an attempt to understand what I'm being told about hyperspace. But to be honest I get lost in most calculations that involve straight line acceleration. Understanding anything else may be a stretch that is too far for me.

That doesn't mean that I don't want to understand, just that there's a lot of other information that plays into that (understanding I mean) that I will have to probably (No must) learn. Before I can understand hyperspace. Some of that is physics, and some of it is the way that the Confederacy races understand space and time. From what I can understand of what has been taught to me I think that their understanding is far different than any of the theories that we (humans) had before we met the Darjee.

So far as the women (and children) we're transporting go, I'm sure that they won't want anything to do with me. But it seems that Marissa thinks that I'm a superior lover in all senses of the word and expects that they will see that. I give out hugs where they're not openly rejected. And I have to say that so far none of the women here have sought me out for any sort of contact. Not even something as innocent as a simple hug. The only time I've had contact of that sort with them is when Holly and I have held what have become impromptu counseling sessions in order to help them deal with the loss of their masters or lovers. For some of them it is quite obvious that their owners had indeed become their family and not just someone to whom they had to give their bodies on demand.

It is interesting to observe those who had less friendly (or even slightly adversarial) relations with their owners when they hear the pain and loss that the women who cared deeply for their owners express. They all seem amazed by the idea that such relationships could exist. Some few of those (the ones who had bad relationships) may actually be the ones who approach me. I had thought at first that it would be the ones who were missing their lovers. But for most of those it seems that they have strong ties of affection with their fellow concubines and most likely will confine their sharing of pleasure and grief to those in their families in an attempt to continue to affirm the bonds that they have already formed.

I have assigned Holly to be my 'gate keeper' in such things. She does tell me that, some of both 'camps' as it were, are a bit amazed that I started out in the diaspora as a concubine. Of course except for Darla none of them were in 'harems' of more than four members. Darla and her fellow concubine Gary have been explaining that, and the fact that most of them will in essence double the size of the household where they are going.

Even the ones who had less than congenial relations with their former owners have expressed a desire not to be left out of sex for the length of time that would be required for a man (even with Confederacy med-tech) to get to eight or more women.

I have explained that by the time Marissa and I picked Ron to join our family that I was being run quite literally ragged. Keeping up with the women was a challenge. Making sure that they knew that I loved them was beyond a challenge. They may have known it as a matter of me telling them. But they were being left out of my affection because of the simple fact that I was being worn down by the rate at which they were requesting my 'services' or attention.