Chapter 1Content: MF MFF FF oral anal D/s ScFi
CPL Pete Taylor stood at the hatchway to Collection Area C on the kilopod transport Catch-22 and sighed. In some ways, making a pickup was the easy part...
The collection of people in the cavernous room made the ungodly din that people who have no idea what's coming next ALWAYS seemed to make -- and he could barely hear himself think! Dialing up the volume on the loudspeaker in his ring, he roared, "All RIGHT! BE QUIET!"
The room seemed to shake; he'd pumped the volume up pretty high! "Sorry about that," he continued, after backing things off, "but right now, you need to hear one voice -- mine! Nobody here but me and my partner know what comes next -- and the only way ANYBODY is gonna find out is if EVERYBODY keeps their yaps shut long enough to get the word!"
The ensuing silence wasnít perfect, of course; civilians just didnít get it. Military discipline could yield such a thing -- and theyíd get there -- but not for a while yet. Besides, there were a sprinkling of kids present -- and when kids are scared, NOBODY could shut them up for long!
Pete could certainly be heard, though -- and with a lot less amplification. "All right," he continued. "Youíre all in the same boat at this point. Everybody knows about pickups, but what happens after is the subject of rumor and legend. Well, Iím going to educate you all and dispel some rumors -- and maybe confirm some legends -- but first, we need to get somewhat organized. Sponsors -- that would be you guys with the CAP scores above six point five -- collect your concubines into a tight little group. Get everybodyís CAP card, and get a headcount of those that donít have one. Be able to discuss those without cards intelligently so we can figure out who is who, later. Find out from your concubines how many eligible offspring they have still on the surface of Mother Earth, and decide whether youíre gonna plan on asking to have them retrieved. And last, but not least, ask everybody in your little family if he or she needs medical attention for anything like high blood pressure or diabetes or anything theyíre on drugs for... Everybody got that? Wave an arm -- donít yell! Youíve got ten minutes -- when you know everything I asked you to find out, park your peopleís butts in one place and come see me!"
"Excuse me!" Someone was waving. Pete eyed him, trying to place the name. Francke?
"Whatís this about deciding..."
"Weíll talk about that when you come up here," Pete cut him off. "Then, if you need to, you can take the answer back to your family."
Francke nodded and turned away.
"Okay, the clock is ticking!" Pete added. "The sooner we get organized, the sooner everybody gets food and a place to sleep and a shitload of answers! Go to it!"
Some people turned up pretty quickly -- and others took more time. Sandrine Knopf, the only woman in the sponsor group, turned up first, with CAP cards for Bradley and Barbara Pinchot, and the information that their minor children, Chantal and Bryce, were present and accounted for.
Wayne Moore accounted for Cathy Clark, the foxy brunette who had pulled a train at pickup, and Debra McPherson, the schoolteacher. "Cathy might need to have her ass looked at," Wayne muttered.
Jason Frederics showed up to report that Allison Tate, the counter girl with the sad mouth, and Nadine Peters, the construction worker, required nothing.
Elliott Bradley turned up with cards for his two dumpy secretary types, Phyllis Parker, and June Thatcher. "Who do I talk to about making them a little younger?" he asked. Both had what were probably minor prescription issues.
"Later," Rick Evans told him. "Emergencies first. Why did you...?"
"Ahhh, I just couldnít leave Ďem..." Elliott shrugged. "Iím an old softie, I guess."
Rick looked mildly disgusted. "Do you like either of them enough to want to have a half-dozen kids by her?"
Elliott wrinkled his nose. "Well, it was the luck of the draw. At least I know Ďem. Iíll manage."
"Well, you can START by NOT being an Ďold softieí ANY MORE!" Rick warned him. "You own them -- not vice-versa -- and they need to understand that up front, or your life will be shit, believe me!"
Elliott nodded. "Iíll bear that in mind."
Mike Fisher arrived next. "Iím gonna need baby stuff," he related, "for little Tommy. That would be Lindaís kid." He handed over her CAP card. Linda was the last female selected -- a chubby, brown-haired dishrag type who was so slow off the mark that she almost stayed behind. "And Jolene has three kids on the ground -- I think her sister is watching them. Tyrone, Nishelle, and Broaddus." Jolene was a scrawny, mouthy black chick with nipple rings in her droopy titties.
"Theyíre all under fourteen?" Pete asked.
"I bet youíre thinking you should have kept Nikki," Rick chuckled.
Mike grimaced and shook his head. "At least this pair know what sex is. I donít envy Mitch." Mitch Francke had somehow ended up with a pair of teenyboppers -- each inherited singly from Mike when he discovered that older women wouldnít have anything to do with him for taking on young stuff.
Kiran Patan was the first of the Sevens to show up, with cards for his pair of Indian women, Amita and Sharmila, young Isobel Montoya -- and Kellie Wentworth. "We need nothing -- for now."
"About the Wentworth chick," Pete began.
"She is worthless for anything but an object lesson to my other women," Kiran snorted. "She is dull and foolish and I see no use for her except as a collection of holes to abuse -- but if the others learn respect, it will have been worth it, dealing with her."
Pete pursed his lips. A certain spoiled young brat was going to see hard times -- if he hadnít just heard her death sentence... "What about Isobel?"
"Isobel is spirited, but I believe that she understands discipline and obedience to authority," Kiran declaimed, adding blithely, "Sheís not Indian, of course... On the other hand, Amita and Sharmila will need to be un-Americanized..."
Pete nodded, thinking, ĎThis could get ugly...í
Kiran, looking off toward the groups, muttered, "Here comes Sanket. He did well with Rachana, but why he took on those fat aunties..." He shook his head and moved off.
Sanket Parsupula arrived, clutching cards for Rachana, Anne Mayweather, Inez Montoya, and Donna Eggers. "Anne may need assistance for diabetes, and Inez for high blood pressure," he related.
"Your colleague doesnít understand your selection criteria," Pete related.
"Iím uncertain that I understand them, myself," Sanket related diffidently. "Rachana... Well, I couldnít leave her. Anne, well, holds an odd fascination -- Iím not sure whether it is physical or mental. Donna is pleasant to look upon and seems to have some sense..."
"And Inez?" Pete prompted.
"I felt sorry for her. I hope, though, that she will work out, once a part of her youth is recovered." Sanket shrugged.
"Well, sheís a wiser head, at least," Pete noted. "Good luck."
"Thank you." Sanket moved off.
"Very different from his friend," Rick noted.
Mitch Francke arrived next, carrying cards for one Michelle (Mickey) Rawlins, the bushy bleached-blonde mother of two, Tamara Jackson -- also a mother of two, Nikki Swenson, the fifteen year old bleach blonde with the mouse-brown muff, and Vicky Ellis, her quiet, brown-haired friend. "Iíve got three pickups," Mitch related, "Mickeyís girls Lisa and Petra, and Tyler Gregory. Tamaraís kids Leah and Latoya are with her."
"The Gregory kid -- umm, Michelle is the legal guardian?" Pete confirmed.
"We have a note from the mother and a verbal from the father that there is a document," Mitch replied.
"Heís being very careful," the AI transmitted through Peteís implant. "He is speaking what he believes to be the truth, but it appears that he has concerns that something might occur at variance with the plan."
Pete nodded, subvocalizing, "I think this is a last-minute thing." Addressing Mitch, he asked, "So whatís up with this?"
Mitch sighed. "The mother, Bettina Gregory, is... unstable. The husband is going broke trying to cope, but he canít farm the boy out all day every day -- and heís in danger at home, so..."
"How many charity cases does that make?" Pete chuckled.
"I dunno," Mitch grunted. "Three? Six? Nine?"
"Iíve got you beat," Elias Whitcomb announced himself. He started handing over cards, "Thereís that sow, Sue -- fat, ugly AND stupid -- Penny McBride the pigeon-toed Holocaust survivor, Alicia Cortez the grouchy greaser, some chunky cunt named Beth Savage whose only claim to fame seems to be that she wants kids..." He wrinkled his nose. "Maybe you win after all. The little chink bitch seems to have a head on her shoulders and isnít hard to look at, and Denise, the brunette, has an ass to die for..." He rubbed his nose. "I oughta get triple credit for Sue, though..."
"Got any issues?" Pete asked, knowing the answer.
Elias cocked his head. "Donít suppose thereís somewhere around here I could smoke..."
"Not hardly!" Rick chuckled. "The Darjee would freak and there would be bird shit ALL over the place!"
"Well, if you got a fix for it, Alicia and I are gonna need it," Elias sighed. "Dunno what Iím gonna do with my hands, though..."
"With six women available, I canít see you not finding SOMETHING to hang onto!" Rick jibed. "Go get Alicia -- youíre in the first wave at Medical, when I call for you." He started adding numbers on his electronic notebook. "Nine sponsors. Twenty-eight concubines. Five kids on site, and six to be picked up. Seven for Medical."
"Ummm..." a female voice sounded behind them.
Rick glanced over his shoulder at Maureen. "Oh, yeah. Twenty-NINE concubines. If Pete makes a habit of forgetting you, Honey, just wander over to MY place -- you hear?" He grinned at the tall blonde.
"I said this before, and Iíll say it again," Pete retorted, "GET YOUR OWN!"
"Come here," Pete crooked a finger at Maureen. "Do you have any medical problems? Anything?"
"Well, donít hesitate to tell me, so we can fix them," Pete told her.
"I wonít, um, sir," Maureen replied diffidently.
"For now, ĎPeteí is fine," Pete told her. "I have a lot on my mind right now -- make sure you donít get left out of anything. Come here..." He pulled her in and backed her against him, rubbing her belly. "Do you mind being naked?"
"Um, well, a lot of people are..."
"Youíre likely not to wear a lot of clothing for a while," Pete told her, "largely because youíre such fun to look at."
"Is that normal?" She relaxed against him and enjoyed the feel of his big hands on her body.
"A lot more so than it would be down on the ground," Pete told her. "Lots of sponsors take a while to get used to seeing their concubines in skin. Some never tire of it."
"I imagine that depends on how the concubine looks," Maureen said quietly. Based on experience, she had no reason to expect any man to have a whole lot of interest...
"True," Pete agreed. "Like I said -- youíre gonna be naked for a while..."
Maureen was nonplussed. "I donít understand why..."
"Well I do!" Rick laughed. "You probably look your best naked, because then everyone can see that thereís not a damned thing wrong with you!"
"I..." Maureen blinked, surprised.
"Just like going to McDonaldís and ordering it up super-sized -- only I got a hot blonde!" Pete chuckled. "Rickís all jealous..."
"B--but..." Maureenís hand flashed to the only thing really wrong with her -- a splash of acne across her cheeks, half-hidden by make-up.
"That?" Pete laughed. "Thatís NOTHING! Rick and I have seen a LOT of female flesh in the past few months -- take it from us, you need VERY LITTLE help..."
"Thatís sweet..." Maureen didnít really BELIEVE a word of it -- but it sounded nice...
"Iíll show you later -- first, back to the salt mines." Pete released her, reluctantly, and stepped away. "All right!" he addressed the group, "itís time for the briefing! Can everyone hear me? You donít want to miss this! SILENCE!" Things quieted down; Lindaís little one Tommy was snuffling some. "Hey, uh, Linda!" Pete consulted his list. "Do you breast feed?" Linda nodded. "Well, whip it out and make him happy, willya? Obviously, nudity isnít a problem here..."
Linda looked around, dazed -- but there were a LOT of women in various stages of undress present... Mike leaned over and whispered, "Just do it." Linda nodded and handed him Tommy so she could open up her blouse...
Jolene sighed. "Youíre gonna have to babysit her Baby..."
Mike produced a crooked grin. "No, YOU are. Get her out of that rig," he waved at the bra. "Everybody else is naked -- at least she has a reason."
"I just donít..." Linda muttered, shrugging out of the bra.
"Shh!" Mike replied. "Feed him!" He handed her Tommy back. "You watch things -- you know what youíre doing!" he added to Jolene.
"Are we under control, here?" Pete asked somewhat sarcastically. Mike waved. "All right -- this is the big briefing. Take mental notes -- itís all pretty simple really, but for some of you itís gonna be a shock!"
Pete looked around. "Iím gonna start at the bottom, with some basic terms. Officially, just about every woman in this room -- and one male, if memory serves -- is referred to as a Ďconcubine.í The person who chose you on the ground down there, we refer to as a Ďsponsor.í He was watching Linda, who was listening as best she could with an expression of utter confusion on her face. "Wait a minute -- I think I started things at too advanced a level..."
"Whatís up?" Rick subvocalized.
"At least one member of our audience has no fucking idea whatís going on," Pete muttered back. "When I give the high sign, pop the shutter on the port, willya?" Rick nodded and headed over to a bank of switches. "All right -- forgive me, but when I look around, I see faces that have no clue about the basics. For those of you who have some idea whatís up, this might seem elementary, but you probably STILL havenít let the whole thing sink in -- so hang in there while we put everyone on the same footing, okay?" Pete swept the group with his eyes, gauging them. "A little while ago you were all in that cute little bakery place, having breakfast or your midmorning break. Then we showed up and the world changed. You stepped through a portal and arrived here. What do you think you did when you did that?" Pete looked around. "Anybody? Raise your hands and Iíll pick out a volunteer..."
Several people raised her hands; Cathy Clark got Peteís attention. "Go ahead," he told her.
"I became a citizen of the Confederacy?" Cathy guessed.
Pete grimaced. "Itís probably not as simple as that. Your sponsor, who had already volunteered for the Confederacyís armed forces, became a citizen, but you didnít, really. Iíll go into that later, but there is something basic that each and every one of you did... Sanket?"
"We emigrated to the colonies," Sanket replied, obviously fairly sure of himself.
"Thatís correct," Pete nodded. "You have kissed the home world goodbye. You are no longer citizens of the USA, or even the Earth. Where do you figure that means you are now?" Pete nodded at Rick, who hit the switches.
Behind them the protective cover of the port slid open -- and the Earth hung there, heavy, taking up over two-thirds of the visual field. There was a collective gasp, multiple exclamations, and at least one short scream!
"Thatís not a video," Pete declared. "Anyone who believes it is can play in an airlock, if they like -- but I donít recommend it! Welcome to the kilopod transport Catch-22, in Earth orbit!"
Linda started out at the scene in horror! She couldnít breathe! For a moment, she just stood there, swaying, panting -- then she turned to Mike and said faintly, "I just wanted a bagel... Breakfast was cheap there, and I was broke..." She started shaking like a leaf. Mike pulled her to him and she tucked her face in his shoulder; little Tommy was supported between them more or less automatically.
"Iím sooo fucked..." Jolene muttered, gazing out the port. "So totally fucked..."
"Iíll take care of you," Mike promised, "Both of you. Okay?" He was holding Linda, but looking at Jolene.
Linda, her face hidden, said, faintly, "Okay." Jolene just nodded, looking dazed.
ĎSlutí -- or Kellie Wentworth -- knelt before Kiran, gazing out the port, dazed. "Your father and all of your influential friends are down there," Kiran told her, with a certain malicious satisfaction. "They canít help you. Soon, we will leave this place. You are no longer a child of privilege; you are nothing, own nothing. You belong to me -- and are more a pet than a person. You are beneath the lowest of your household servants -- and the sooner you understand this, the better."
"Surely not..." Kellie moaned.
"Wait," Kiran told her. "See if I am not right."
Nadine Peters peered out the port. "Pretty," she murmured. "So, weíre kissing it goodbye?"
"Looks like it," Jason replied.
"I wonder if there are any jobs in the building trades where weíre going?" Nadine muttered.
"No idea," Jason replied.
Leah and Latoya had their noses pressed to the port material, whatever it was; Tamara -- even with Mickeyís help -- hadnít been able to corral them. Nikki and Vickie drifted in close behind them, less happy about the whole thing. "I think our social life just hit the wall," Nikki opined.
Vickie, as usual, limited herself to, "Yeah."
"Dios Mio!" Inez gasped. "So itís true, then..."
"Itís... a shock..." Anne breathed.
Rachana whimpered and tucked herself against Sanket, hiding her face in his shoulder, while Donna clutched his hand.
"Well, THATís pretty..." Elias mused. Looking around, he took stock of his womenís reactions. Sue was frozen in place with her mouth open. Alicia was scowling. The Jap girl -- what WAS her name? -- looked somewhat concerned, but in control. Beth I Want to Have Kids looked out the port, then looked away -- and clearly wasnít planning on looking back. Scrawny Penny had her head tucked in Deniseís shoulder -- and Denise was eyeing Elias.
Pete waved at Rick and the port shutter closed -- to loud complaints from Leah and Latoya. "I need everyoneís attention," he answered the objection. "Sponsors, get your concubines under control and weíll continue." There was a mutter and a shuffle and Pete determined that just about everyone was again oriented in his direction. "I donít have to tell you that your lives have just changed," he continued, "but I get to tell you how much!" He crooked a finger at Maureen, who stepped in close, then he pointed at the floor. Maureen cocked her head, then knelt in front of him, facing his audience, but looking up at him for confirmation that she was doing things correctly. Pete reached down and cupped a breast, and held onto it, continuing, "Where you came from, this is sexual harassment. Here, itís something different. I told you a bit ago, that most of you are officially described as Ďconcubinesí and the rest are officially referred to as Ďsponsorsí -- well, if you want to understand the reality, the first group would be called Ďslavesí, and the second would be Ďmasters.í Concubines, your sponsor owns you -- he or she is responsible for your behavior and his or her word is law! There is no Constitution -- therefore, you have no unalienable rights. Sponsors are subject to military discipline -- and thatís about all there is to the official legal structure. Concubines are subject to the whims and demands of their sponsor -- period. There is no justice, no appeal to a higher court. Your sponsor has complete authority over you -- literally to the point of determining whether you live or die! Some of you are going to have a hard time getting this through your silly heads -- and Iím here to tell you thatís a GREAT way to get shoved out and airlock without a vacuum suit or recycled into burgers! Is anyone here married to their sponsor? I donít recall..."
Bradley Pinchot raised his hand and said diffidently, "Weíre married," pointing to himself and Barbara, "but SHEís our sponsor!"
Pete nodded. "In a way, thatís a relief," he declared, "because wives who get picked up with their sponsors are the single most likely group to end up too stupid to live! Bradley, I hate to break it to you, but youíre not married any more. Sandrine has the right to split you and Barbara up at any point she chooses and dispose of either or both of you as she sees fit. Are we clear?"
Bradley blanched, but nodded, sharing a glance with his former wife.
"Now, your sponsor can choose to pretend heís running a democracy, or whatever -- but the moment you leave your quarters, heís responsible for anything that you do, so even if heís Mr. Nice Guy, if you fuck up, he may be forced to punish you -- severely! Iíve already defined the limits of the legal system -- and Iím here to tell you AGAIN that while your sponsor has limits placed on his actions where it comes to other sponsors, he has ABSOLUTELY NONE where YOU are concerned! Remember that!"
Pete sighed. "I know that I could stand here talking until I was blue in the face, and some of you wouldnít get it. What Iím going to tell you now is more convention than hard and fast rules, in some cases -- and Iíll point THOSE out. First, children are NOT slaves. Children are the PRIMARY PURPOSE that most of you are here for -- youíre going to have more, regularly, because we want to grow as a race so we have the numbers necessary to confront our enemies! As a result, children do not share the lowly status of their concubine parents. They are expected to be properly disciplined -- and by the way, the Ďhands offí methods of Dr. Spock are not thought well of, as they donít teach a healthy respect for the consequences of oneís actions -- but they will NOT be mistreated by either concubines or sponsors! Children will not be subject to any sexual contact until they reach fourteen, at which time, theyíll be tested and take their place in society as adults, either as a sponsor or as a concubine. Until then, theyíre sponsors in training."
Pete scanned the group again while marshalling his thoughts. "What are the duties of a concubine? Itís pretty simple, actually. You do whatever the fuck your sponsor tells you to do! Primarily, youíre here to make your sponsor happy while cranking out and raising a huge family for him. Cooperate with your fellow concubines so the whole thing is light work for everybody -- thatís why there is more than one of you to a sponsor. Your sponsor has other duties -- raising kids is YOUR problem. Oh, heíll be around and will make final decisions on important subjects, but he has a job outside the home -- and you donít; things have reverted to a more or less medieval model -- sorry about that. So, once again, your job is to keep your sponsor happy and crank out children -- anything else is icing on the cake."
"Exceptions," Pete continued, "would be doing violence to another sponsor -- and vice-versa. This isnít set in stone, but sponsors, the general rule is you have yours and he has his and you keep your hands off each otherís! You donít have the right to discipline somebody elseís concubine -- but you DO have the right to demand that HE does it. If you donít own it and you donít have permission from the guy who does, donít go playing with his toys! Can a sponsor lend out a concubine? Yes. Can sponsors trade concubines? Yes. Could a sponsor sell a concubine? Yes, but given the fact that money and possessions arenít huge in Confederacy society, what the buyer would use for cash is unclear." Pete waved at the group. "Your current layout isnít set in stone; some of you will have made mistakes at pickup -- and a swap might fix it, either between you or with another sponsor you havenít met yet. Whatís fair is what the two sponsors involved decide is fair -- note that the concubine has no input here! Oh, your sponsor may pay attention when you wheedle him that the guy he wants to trade you off to is old and ugly and so forth -- but he doesnít HAVE to, and if he doesnít, youíre stuck! Plan to be nice to Old Ugly, or plan not to live much longer!"
Pete glanced around. "Iím getting tired of talking, so weíre going to move on to other things. Over the next few days, youíll all attend a series of briefings on all of this -- and no doubt, youíll see a few object lessons! This is a thousand pod transport, and itís over half full; in the next few weeks, somebody is going to screw up and youíll hear about the results -- itís bound to happen. Try to learn from it." He glanced at his pad. "Letís move on. Elias, bring Alicia up here. Elliott, drag your pair up. Sanket, I need to see Inez and Anne. Wayne, whatís the status of Cathyís ass? Mike, why donít you bring Linda and Tommy here and weíll see about baby stuff. Everyone else, Iím placing in the hands of my colleague Rick, here, who will start assigning you your quarters. Try not to give him too much trouble, please..."
"Gee thanks!" Rick grunted.
"Iíll be back in ten or fifteen minutes," Pete chuckled. "Settle out whoever you can while Iím gone." He waited while those whose names heíd called straggled in, then waved, "Follow me. Maureen, you can come, too."
Medical -- actually, Medical Unit C -- had a half-dozen tubes available, which wasnít a surprise since they were scheduled to service Peteís pickup. Elias eyed the tubes suspiciously. "So, what do you get in there?"
"Nanobots," the medic replied. "First, a full diagnostic, then nanobots programmed to fix specific issues, along with other therapies. This isnít a change run, itís just clean-up, fix-up, paint-up from the inside out. Whatís the urgent issue?"
"Smoking," Pete replied for Elias.
"I figured," the Medic grinned. With Elias, it was obvious; he looked like he was being smoked like a ham from the inside out. "Settle yourself in the tube -- this will take maybe twenty minutes."
"Suppose you pop her in first?" Elias replied, pointing at Alicia. "Same problem as me... Being Iím responsible for her I want to see her tucked in."
"Oh, SURE!" Alicia rolled her eyes. "You just want a guinea pig!"
Elias grinned. "Well, that, too."
Alicia sat in the tube. "Will it hurt?"
"Nope. Youíll go to sleep and wake up healthier," the medic replied. "The cure actually takes a couple of days -- we just start it here. Youíll be getting some gum to chew to get you past the worst of it."
"Tried that," Elias grunted.
"This time it will work, because the Ďbots will be tuning the receptors. The gum is just to keep the cravings down initially. It isnít the cure -- it just keeps you comfortable while the Ďbots remove your dependence on nicotine."
"So willpower isnít required..." Elias mused.
"Lay down, Honey," Elias told Alicia. "Iím right behind you." He went and sat in a tube and watched her settle in -- and noticed something. "She was out before the cover closed."
The medic nodded. "Lots of people get claustrophobic, so we use a neural field dampener. That way they never get a chance to feel totally enclosed."
Elias nodded. "Pretty smart. All right -- letís get on with it. He settled back and the cover closed.
Several of the others were anxious, but no one was a problem. That left little Tommy, who had no apparent issues, but was going to need sources of baby supplies. Any concerns Mike and Linda had were quickly addressed; anything Tommy needed -- and more than Linda had ever dreamed of -- was available almost instantly via replication and an online catalog. "Lady," the medic laughed, "youíre here to have kids; weíd be total fools not to have the stuff to support them!"
"How do I pay for this?" Mike asked.
"You show up for work, basically," Pete replied, shrugging. "Do whatever it is weíre asking of you. Basic needs are supplied. Beyond that -- well, to be frank, there isnít much beyond that -- but how much more do you need?"
The AIís report on Cathy Clarkís ass tickled Peteís sense of humor -- and Wayne Mooreís, too, for that matter. "Minor anal tearing, naturally repairable in ten days -- two days under augmentation. Pre-existing scars also repairable in two days."
"Pre-existing scars?" Wayne asked.
"The subject appears to have a history of anal intercourse or other anal penetrations going back several years," the AI responded.
Wayne snorted. "Is that a fact..."
"It is deduction," the AI replied. "Direct evidence is lacking."
Wayne turned a confused glance on Pete, who grinned. "They can be literal-minded..."
"I see," Wayne grinned back. Then a thought occurred to him and he sobered. "How many years?"
There was a pause. "Verifiable data is unavailable," the AI responded finally. "More data will become available if and when progress data is downloaded from the nanobots conducting the repair. Current probability analysis for initial episode of scarring can be seen on the screen to your right." An age vs. probability curve appeared -- and Wayne gasped. "This says that she was having anal sex at twelve!"
"Yes," the AI replied. "From current data, it is statistically certain by age fourteen. It is expected that further data will result in an increased probability that the subject was first penetrated before puberty."
"That might explain a couple of things," Wayne mused.
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