Chapter 5 -- Beauty Saloon

Optio Redburn met Decurion Shultz outside of the vacant school set up in the enormous dome of Camp Shackleton. As she saluted him, he asked her, "Have you decided where your office is going to be?"

"There's a space by the unassigned concubine quarters set aside for the ranking Civil Service officer, but that entire compound is not ready yet. We haven't any unassigned concubines yet, although I expect that to change shortly. In the interim, I'll use the Principal's Office at the school here. I think that'll be my highest priority."

"Probably. After the first six months together, we often see concubines kicked to the curb out of sheer boredom. You'll get used to that, although if you're a good Civil Service officer you won't stop working your little tail off to prevent it."

"Yes, Sir." She led the way into the school building. The AI recognized Samantha as the planet's ranking CS officer and unlocked the facility for her.

The inside was kind of spooky. The structure had never been used, so it looked just as it did the day the engineers and nanites had finished it: doors along the empty hallways opened to empty classrooms, an empty gym and an empty main office. The chairs that were upturned on the students' desks, the sparkling-clean never-used showers in the unmarked gym locker room and the barren offices all lacked the little signs of life that indicated someone worked there. That would change quickly, Samantha vowed. The air itself wasn't stale as much as it was sterile.

They entered the Principal's office, the desk was complete and ready to go but the In and Out trays were empty and the nameplate was bare.

"OK, so the first thing I have to worry about is the school, I guess," Samantha deduced as she settled herself behind the large grey desk. She plunked her feet on top and leaned back in the swivel chair. "Do I need a secretary?"

"No, Sam, not yet. The AI can function as a combination of a PDA and an administrative assistant for the time being -- use it. You'll need a human administrative assistant soon, but right now we need to get our little duckies in a row."

She nodded. "Who should be coming to this school here? Concubines as well as under-14's?"

"If they haven't had high school. It's possible that some of your concubine teens can finish high school and retest at a sponsor-level CAP score. We'll worry about that in a minute. Right now let's get a list of the people you need, and then ask the Colonel for permission to ask the officers and men under his command. You also have Scott Base to worry about -- the Navy's going to have some families over there that you'll have to teach too. So you'll need at least one principal and some teachers. You're going to need brothel staff too."

Samantha nodded, concentrating on the staffing issue.

"And I suggest some sort of uniform that differentiates between the unassigned concubines and the ones who are performing a job," Shultz added. "Maybe different coloured shifts. Here, look at what the Navy does on its hospital ships." He ordered the AI to display the standard Navy medical concubine uniform: a white shift with epaulets and a breast pocket with the medical caduceus. The name of the concubine was written in gold above the pocket.

"That works, except instead of white make it light blue," Samantha suggested. "The principal and brothel manager will be dark blue -- I'm going to assume both positions are filled by concubines." The AI split the three-dimensional picture into two versions. "On the school teachers and principal, we'll have an apple to symbolize learning." A variety of apple designs appeared beside the uniform, and Samantha opted for an outline of the fruit with a bite taken out of it. The design of the shift changed accordingly. "And make the script in white. Name and under the name, either 'Teacher' or 'Principal'." Again the design changed. "OK, lock that down. For the brothel, same basic design except we need a different crest." The AI brought up a collection of symbols typical of the bar trade. "Let's use this martini glass. Wait, do I want to use the unassigned concubines as wait-staff?"

"Probably not," Shultz advised, impressed so far with what he'd seen of the newly-minted Optio. "Let them concentrate on getting into the pants of the men."

"So I need teachers and a principal, probably a vice-principal depending on how many students we get, a brothel manager, at least one bartender and a cook even if all they do is fancy up the drinks and food as they emerge from the replicators, a DJ and some waitresses."

"And you should also have consultants to help the women with their personal appearance -- makeup, clothes, hairstyle." Decurion Shultz shrugged. "A beauty salon, if you will."

"A beauty salon? And a bar?" The Decurion nodded. "A saloon and beauty salon." Samantha pondered. "A beauty saloon. Works." She flashed the Decurion a smile. "That's the new name of the brothel -- the Beauty Saloon. What about the school curriculum?"

"AI, what do we have for educational resources?" the Decurion asked, by habit looking at the ceiling.

"Decurion Shultz, Demeter has a successful program, but the files are currently unavailable due to bandwidth restrictions. We need a courier missile to carry the data files without loss or corruption of data. Permission to send a courier missile will have to come from Colonel Michael Deschenes."

"AI, what about the skills indicated during our discussion? Do they exist on this planet, and how do we go about asking for them?"

"Unknown at this time, Optio Redburn. Concubines will need to be polled. Permission to poll concubines will have to come from their sponsors. Permission to contact their sponsors to request permission to poll their concubines will have to come from the ranking Marine and Navy officers."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I guess that's to avoid using the AI to spam the planet."

Decurion Shultz nodded. "I think that's fairly standard. Well, is there anything else you can think of?"

"Yes. I'd like a panel of concubine advisers, who can suggest things and make sure we're not going wrong somewhere. Besides, it makes them part of the colony, not just some loose collection of vaginas."

Shultz considered the idea. "Sounds good. More colonies should try that. If it works, it'll join the 'it worked here' file. Read that, by the way. Lots of good advice. And read the 'it didn't work here' file. You might be able to avoid someone else's mistake."

Just at that point, Samantha's stomach gave a rather unladylike growl. Both noted the time -- well past noon.

"Shall we break for lunch?" suggested the Decurion.

Decurion Shultz and young Optio Redburn dined at a picnic table in the school quad, examining dining alternatives. Samantha Redburn pointed at the facilities.

"This entire camp is designed with the military requirements first, the soldiers' families last, dead last. There's no place to go out for dinner, there's no place to celebrate other than the officers' club, the sergeants' club and the enlisted club. I'd like some place for moms to bring their kids to play, ski hills and recreational cross-country ski and snowmobile trails, and some place where families can go to celebrate special events." She related to the older man the story of how her parents celebrated the major milestone of her onset of menses.

That struck Decurion Shultz very forcefully. He began to laugh, and added, "I have to remember that. My daughter just turned nine. When it's her turn, we'll have to figure out some way to celebrate." He turned amused for a moment. "We can't really waste the resources of your Beauty Saloon, and during the day it'll be largely underutilized. Perhaps we can set up a dining area for families and casual get-togethers during the day and early evening, and after eight have it as a brothel bar?"

Samantha regarded her mentor sceptically. "Families and brothels traditionally do not co-exist, at least as far as I know."

Shultz shrugged. "It's a different world we're living in. Don't discard it without giving it some serious thought."

"Oh, I'll give it all the serious thought it merits," Samantha assured him. 'Three, two, one... that's enough thought,' she continued to herself. 'The answer is still "no"'.

Across the dome she could see and hear a platoon jogging on the track around the parade square. "More P.T., Sir, more P.T.!" they chanted. "We like it! We love it! We want more of it! More P.T., Sir...." The voices faded into the distance as Samantha continued her contemplation of this strange new role she was filling, on this strange new world.