Chapter 10 - Friday

It had been a frantic night for Trubune Whitefeather dealing with the aftermath of the Battle of Baltimore. After dealing all night with extracted females from the shelter, he was just able to get a shower in. Then he called his concubine and his partner on board the Cabot and reassured the two ladies that he was indeed all right and would be home soon, and got his aide to head Earthside for a much-needed double-double.

"Now, Sub-Decurion Whitefeather!" he called. Callie Whitefeather, former concubine and now Civil Service officer, yelped. She still wasn't used to her sponsor status. "Get into some Civil Service greys and get your butt over to the Clara Barton! We've got some concubines who need some educating!" He turned serious. "Take Della with you. You need to start picking out your concubines, and I'd like the two of you to pick out some candidates for my slots. Try to pick five people the three of us can get along with. I'll need at least one if not two nurturing types, and a straw boss to keep things together when neither of us are home. I'll come over around supper time and meet the candidates."

"OK, love, see you at supper. What do you want for dinner anyway?"

He considered for a moment. "French Canadian meat pie, Duchess potatoes and steamed garden vegetables. Apple blossom for dessert. Sound good?"

"Oh, that sounds fantastic. Later, then!" And with that, Callie broke the connection.

Through the morning, the interrogations continued. Secretly, other men were brought in. Finally, the last of the actors in the overnight drama were gathered in one spot.

Meanwhile, on board CSS Clara Barton, another, different drama was unfolding.

Tribune Whitefeather and three police officers were standing by the medical pod that held the fourth officer, the most seriously wounded hero from the previous night.

As he woke up, the officer was delighted to see his friends, and delighted to be advised that he was going to live and even be in better shape than before he showed up for his shift.

The first thing he was permitted to do was call his wife and kids and assure them he'd be coming home shortly. The second thing he did was enquire about extractions.

Tribune Whitefeather considered for a moment. All four would make superb Marines, they had the CAP scores. They weren't what he needed on Atlantis, however. He had the AI put him in touch with his bosses, who advised him of an expected Baltimore pickup the next Tuesday.

"Here, gentlemen, look at this for a moment." He handed each a game-boy sized device that pricked their fingers. They would now feel the crying need to go to a particular restaurant with their wives and other concubines on Tuesday night. He put in a call to the restaurant in question and placed a reservation for seven PM for the four police officers and their pre-packs.

William could do nothing more for them. He escorted them to the transporter room, took them to a CAP testing centre in Baltimore's downtown, and drove them to a reunion with their wives and their fellow officers at their precinct house.

William still had one last duty to perform before the morning was over. On his return to the Barton, he went to see his old friend, retired USMC Colonel Henry "Howling Mad" Hollister.

He entered the medical bay where a large-breasted concubine nurse was fussing over Hollister's bed sheets.

"Did I interrupt anything?" he leered, observing the obvious lack of brassiere on the buxom beauty.

"Not yet. But the AI tells me it's just a matter of time." Henry looked directly at William. "So, when do I return to Earth?"

"Do you want to? We have a military academy to set up on Atlantis, and it needs an instructor of military history."

Henry blinked. "Do tell? I thought I was too old to extract?"

"Not quite. You're still shooting live ammo. The nanites have refreshed that, so you're good to go. With a CAP score of 8.7, just ask and six concubines are yours. Seven if you take a couple with kids, and eight if one of those eight has a high enough nurturing score."

"And what do I have to do to get that?"

"Just ask to be extracted."

"I thought I already had been."

"Oh no," replied William, "you had been evacuated, but not extracted. We couldn't keep you unless you said strong and clear that you wanted to be extracted."

"Nurse!" Henry called, his drill-sergeant voice clear and strong.

"Yes, Mr. Hollister?"

"Don't 'Mr. Hollister' me. I WORK for a living!" He pointed imperiously at William. "Get this man a straightjacket. If he thinks he has to ask if I want to fight the Sa'arm, he must be nuts." He turned back to William. "Dammit, I'm going to the stars. Try to keep me back."

"That's the spirit, old-timer. I'll see when the doctor will discharge you."

"It'll be now, if he knows what's good for him."

William bent low and whispered in his old friend's ear. "It'll be after you have a chance to boff your nurse, if you know what's good for you!"

As William left the ward to consult with Henry's physician, he was delighted to hear the laughter in the old man's voice.

Still clutching his double-double, Tribune Whitefeather entered the Da Nang's hangar bay. Sitting on the deck, arms secured behind them, were about 20 or so men - all men, the Tribune noted, no women - of the Earth First cell centring around the First Church of the Risen Christ, including its pastor, the Reverend Thomas Blackwood. Ringing the bay were Major James MacAllistor and Sub-Decurion Anthony Chan, and two platoons of armed and alert Confederacy Marines.

Someone had placed a table and chair at the front of the hangar. Tribune Whitefeather placed his coffee on the table and turned to face the assembled conspirators.

"You men," he began conversationally, "are idiots. Plain and simple. You. Are. Idiots. These men around you are supposed to be battling the Swarm. They are supposed to be keeping your witless butts safe. They're supposed to be OUT THERE." He pointed to the inky blackness visible beyond the hangar's outer force field. "Not in orbit around this planet. Instead, we have to try to keep ourselves safe from the very people we signed on to protect, people who are too thick-headed to realize that THERE'S A BLOODY WAR ON." He began to pace. "And humanity's survival is just not guaranteed. So we need to get as many people as possible OFF this planet. We need to breed the next generation of fighters. We need to survive against an enemy that breeds like a xerox machine with the 'copy' button stuck full on, by trying to out breed and out kill them. And what are you doing to help?"

His voice had become louder as he drew closer to the miscreants. He moved from face to face, yelling: "You are trying to STOP extractions, you're trying to KILL Marines, the very people who are trying to save your useless FUCKING hides, you're trying everything you can do to HELP the ENEMY. You know, the ENEMY, the ones who want to turn you into free-range soylent green? The bad guys?"

He was met with largely blank stares, except for the few smarter idiots who gave him out-and-out glares of hatred.

"I don't have TIME for this. I need to get more useful people off this hunk of rock before THEY get here. And make no mistake: THEY ARE COMING! They're just a few years away. We haven't stopped them; we've barely slowed them down. And you lot want us to stop everything and go wandering around smelling the pretty flowers and letting the green grass grow lush between our toes. As I said, YOU ARE IDIOTS!"

He stepped behind a hash line on the floor. None of the Earth First had noticed the hash mark, nor had they noticed that all of the other occupants save them were on the same side as the Tribune - the inner half of the hangar bay.

"In fact, you have managed to convict yourselves of the crime of being Too Stupid To Live. I'd say it's been a pleasure knowing you, but frankly I'd be lying through my teeth."

His meandering through the hangar had led him to a control panel near the door. He turned on one force field, separating the hangar into two at the hash mark. He turned the other one off: the one holding the air in the after half of the hangar bay inside. The after half, that half holding the Reverend Thomas Blackwood and his errant flock. Twenty some odd bodies were instantly swept into vacuum.

"Feel better now?" whispered Major MacAllistor as Tribune Whitefeather picked up his coffee again.

"Not in the slightest," the Tribune responded.

"It's almost thirteen hundred. Want anything to eat?"

"No," Whitefeather protested with whispered revulsion.

"Funny, neither do I. Doesn't mean I think it was the wrong thing to do."

"Same here. Doesn't make me feel better about being the one who had to do it."

Just as the First Church of Christ Risen division of Earth First was discovering the ethereal beauty of Planet Earth from orbit, seventy-six families from across New England were travelling to the ethereal beauty of Pine Point Resort. The last would arrive by sundown.

The Haywoods were typical. Or, perhaps, just perhaps, not.

Ben had the wheel, Marianne had the front passenger seat, and the girls were strapped in the back of their minivan.

Ben: "Are we there yet?"

Girls: "No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"Enough!" Marianne interrupted, before her husband and kids could go another round. "It was funny the first twenty times. Think of something else, like what we're going to have when we get there. There are some nice juicy hamburger patties in the cooler. What do we want with them?"

"Côtes du Rhône Villages Laudun '05," Melodie recommended firmly.

"Wine? With hamburgers?" Marianne screwed up her nose at the idea.

"I don't think we have any at the resort, honey," Ben advised his daughter.

"We've got 24 bottles," advised Marcie. "We slipped a case under the sleeping bags while we were packing the car this morning. It's our last weekend on Earth, so I wanted it to be one to never forget."

"Twenty-four bottles?" Marianne was amazed at the size of the haul. "It'll be a weekend to never remember."

"We can share them with the rest of the resort," suggested the ever-practical Melodie.

By early evening, they had arrived safe and sound at their favourite summer resort and headed for the swimming pool for a pre-dinner dip.