Chapter 17

Oliver eyed me and asked, "So -- dinner? It's getting late..."

I glanced at my watch; it was after eight-thirty. "I was hoping to go out -- but I was ALSO hoping to hit another store, first. Frieda has nothing to wear. How fast can you ladies duplicate the things you bought yesterday in her size? Is there any chance we can get to the store in time?"

Vera frowned. "We shopped at three different stores, and made purchases at two. We might convince the owners of one to stay open... Which outfit were you thinking of, if you had to settle?"

I thought about it. "The babydolls are nice, but what did you plan to wear with that translucent drape thing you stuck on Frieda?"

Vera looked at me, her head cocked. "The chemise? Well, the babydoll, primarily, but we got a little black wisp of a thong and a naughty black push-up bra with open nipples, actually -- and a bustier..."

I thought about it. "Bustier? How is that cut?"

Vera eyed me. "Also for bedroom wear. Beth seems to think you like nipples."

I nodded, shrugging. "Beth is correct. How much of this did you get at one place?"

Vera shifted her glance to Beth. "Didn't we get the chemise and the bustier at the same place, Dear?"

Beth frowned, thinking about it, then nodded. "Yes, Momma."

I turned to Beth. "Go get into it. Hurry! I need to see it and there is no time!"

"Yes, Jack!" Beth took off at a dead run.

"Would you care to enlighten me?" Oliver asked.

I shrugged. "By Saturday, we'll be somewhere that nudity in a concubine is accepted and virtually nothing is truly shocking behavior. I thought it might be nice if we had a little fun..."

Oliver nodded. "Hmmm. Yes..." He looked up, "By the way, both of my other daughters and my pick for my second concubine will be at dinner here tomorrow night. The married one may appear with her husband."

I nodded. "The plan being to keep them here overnight and bring them to the school with you on Saturday, I presume?"

Oliver nodded. "One has sponsor-class scores, but the other is married and neither of them is sponsor-class. I'm hoping we can avoid dealing with the husband. Judith has hinted that the honeymoon is over between them."

I nodded. "The worst case scenario would entail me incapacitating him. Or he can come with his wife on Saturday and fend for himself. Frankly, we'll probably be shipping everyone in sight and sorting them out in orbit. This is a bulk transport thing and we're not playing by the usual rules."

Oliver nodded. "Whatever it takes, then. Frankly, I'm surprised you aren't emptying out the Foundation -- we're doing research on Sa'arm communication."

<Stand by...> The AI went into overdrive for a second, then came back with <Dr. Hopkins is employed by the Brinkman Foundation, which is associated with the local University and is, indeed, doing research on Sa'arm communication. Thus far, there has been no indication that the Sa'arm use anything but spread-spectrum radio for telemetry -- not communication -- and it is generally assumed that they employ it by rote when building equipment without any grasp of how to utilize it for actual communication. The Brinkman Foundation is working to confirm or deny this theory and consult on jamming techniques and the possible consequences to Sa'arm equipment using the technology.> After a second pause, the AI continued, <There are twenty-nine employees. Fleet recommends evacuation, based upon the available resources. Resources for creating a suitable facility will be diverted by the Department of the Navy and the Foundation's human resources will be seconded to the Navy. Major Howard will direct the extraction; the Marine contingent on standby will conduct it. Where possible, data, notes, and records will be extracted. To keep from providing a possible warning of the Academy extraction, the exercise will begin as close to close of business tomorrow as possible.>

"Jack?" Oliver was eyeing me oddly.

"Sorry," I replied. "You started something."

"I did?"

"The Brinkman Foundation will be extracted tomorrow evening," I told him, "Lock, stock, and barrel. Given that we already have plans, you'll join them in orbit. Welcome to the Navy, Doctor."

<Major Howard wishes to dine with yourself and Dr. Hopkins,> the AI lit me up.

"How long?"

<Current planning has been integrated. The Major is currently in the early stages of briefing the warning order to the Marine contingent. Rendezvous at twenty-one thirty hundred hours local at a target location selected by you.>

I frowned, but it was not yet nine... Beth was dashing down the stairs in a lacy black getup under the transparent cover garment at a rate that would cause her to fall down them if she tripped. I took one look; yeah, perfect. "This works. You got this all one place?"

"Everything but the thong."

"Take it off," I directed.

Beth didn't blink as she did it; she turned to her mother, "It was Salome's, Momma."

Vera looked from Beth to me to Oliver. "I'll get on the phone."

"Promise them a large sale," I told her, then turned to Beth. "Get your mother's copy -- she can put it on in the car. Doctor, my boss wants to meet you and pick your brain over the Brinkman Foundation pickup."

"Very well." Oliver nodded and stood.

This was going to screw up my evening, unless... "Doctor, do you like barbeque?"

"Yes, I do, in fact."

The AI was ahead of me. <Major Howard enjoys barbeque -- and a local variant of beer. He has indicated that he might enjoy both -- and that you are the only one of the team getting sexed regularly.>

'We can fix that,' I thought back. 'Rendezvous will be at Ray's.'

<Agreed.>

Vera looked up. "Jolene will wait for us."

"Shall we, then?" I snagged the collars and other paraphernalia, shoving it back into the bag. "We'll take my car. Frieda, you can go naked, for now." Oliver didn't give me any trouble; he let me run things. Fortunately, the rental seated five comfortably. Beth rode up front with me, and Vera sat between Oliver and Frieda and navigated from the back seat. We were at Salome's with fifteen minutes to spare.

Getting out was a different matter entirely. Jolene, the proprietress of Salome's, was tickled pink to see two women in her lingerie and a third totally nude except for a dog collar come walking through the door. I'd had my girls go with the studded collars to match Vera, which meant outfits had to be able to use them as an accessory -- which wasn't THAT big of a limitation. Frieda was quickly outfitted, but I'd promised a big sale and the women had been frugal the previous day. I pulled Beth and Frieda aside and said, "Remember Tara, the waitress? Think you can guess her size?"

Beth nodded tentatively and Frieda carped, "Goin' black, Jack?"

I nodded. "Yeah, if she's there, I think so. It'll give us an experienced set of hands with the kids." I turned to Beth, "You're still Mama -- I just want you to have backup." Beth nodded, head down, so I added, "Trust me, she'll defer to you."

Frieda cackled. "Don't worry, Sweetie -- Tara LIKES it on the bottom!"

"Go -- hurry!" I shooed them at the racks. "Twenty minutes, max!"

They took every second of it. I had them pull kits for Dottie and Tina, too, by getting measurements from the AI and giving them to Jolene. Once that tactic suggested itself, we went back over items picked out for Tara and made a couple of adjustments.

While the women were plying the racks, Jolene came over and asked, "What's going on? Is there a fetish event going on I don't know about?"

"It's a party, I guess..." Making a split-second decision, I whipped out the hypnotizer, which I'd been carrying with me for emergencies. "Ever seen one of these?" I let the AI impart the usual injunctions, then followed up with, "If you go to the Seifort Academy Saturday morning after ten, you will be picked up. Clearly, you can't tell anyone, but anyone you drag in with you can go also."

"Anyone?"

"Anyone. However, if we find out that whoever you bring in is totally unsuitable for some reason, they likely won't survive the day. Criminals and such wouldn't be a good pool to pick from."

Jolene winced. "Drug users?"

"They'll get cured, all things being equal. But underlying emotional or psychological issues that might make them asocial could be a problem."

<Jolene Wells has a sister addicted to pain-killers -- and willing to prostitute herself for her supply.> the AI alerted me.

Meanwhile, Jolene absorbed my comment. "Thank you. Take what you want."

"Take the money," I advised her. "You might decide to stay."

<The sister, once purged, will make a good heavy use concubine. It will take several months for the drugs to fully exit her body and make child-bearing riskless for the child, but she is assumed to be addicted to sex as well and would make an excellent camp follower for a deployed Marine unit until she is fully purged.>

I smiled at Jolene. "Then again, you might not. Purely medical problems are resolvable, for instance."

Jolene smiled back and then turned away at Vera's call. I asked the AI, 'Can't you just flush her?'

<Such things insert themselves deep into the metabolism. A simple wash with counteracting agents is not enough. The hair, for instance, can provide data about drug use going back for however long it took to grow. The subject is rapidly cured, but the effects linger and must be rooted out molecule by molecule. It has been observed that the psychological issues remain, also -- even if instantly cured, the subject tends not to believe they are cured. The subject must earn the cure, usually through a certain amount of pain and suffering, before sufficient belief develops that a cure has been accomplished. Smokers tend to take something on the order of two weeks for the psychological adjustment, while actual physical repairs to the body may take three times as long. While a drug abuser may be ninety-eight percent purged of their chemical dependency in forty-eight hours, the remaining two percent, the repairs of damage to the body and the psychological adjustment tend to take ninety days. Bernice Wells Farris possesses an addictive personality, which makes things more difficult. It is likely that her energies are best channeled toward sexual addiction and throttled back from there.>

'So you have a prediction?'

<She will be physically and mentally prepared for pregnancy in nine months, plus or minus ten percent. By that time, properly placed, she will have overdosed on sex and will be ready for a more sedentary existence and a more or less monogamous relationship.>

I glanced at my watch. "Ladies! NOW!"

Five minutes later, the women were shoving bags in the trunk of the car and Jolene was locking up. My parting shot for Jolene was, "It's worth the trip."

As we pulled away, Frieda navigating and all three concubines identically attired, Oliver commented, "That was fun..."

Vera eyed him. "Did you see enough naked women? One of them is your daughter..."

"I'm aware of that..." Oliver was embarrassed, but...

"And he's male," I interjected. "I mentioned this before, but let me reiterate it. There is no incest taboo in the Confederacy. While the dangers of ongoing, multi-generational inbreeding are real, any livestock breeder will tell you that the first couple of times recessive genes are seldom an issue. In any case, Confederacy medical technology can detect and deal with any issue. There are sponsors out there having children with their daughters, their granddaughters, their mothers and their grandmothers, having made the commitment to do what was necessary to take their loved ones with them. Very seldom do such matings break up, because there is love there in the first place. And a sex act that does not result in pregnancy isn't likely to justify any excitement on those grounds anyway, is it?"

"It isn't?" Vera frowned.

"No. The scientific basis for the moral injunction not to have sex with a close relative is based upon the issue. If there is no issue, it's just sex," I insisted. "The moral imperative was put into place based upon observation before there was science -- and the idea was that it was a slippery slope down which one could easily slide when there was no birth control, so it was best not to go there. But now we HAVE birth control and genetic damage is no longer an issue. That's why I told you both this morning that Oliver had the option of taking his daughter -- Judith? -- as a concubine. Sure, by the old definition, it's incest -- but we have no laws prohibiting it and we have regular practitioners who face no stigma because of it and it is scientifically no longer an issue." I looked up in the mirror and met Vera's eyes, "So if Oliver really wants to have sex with Beth, I might decide to let him." There were at least two gasps -- one from Beth and one from Vera -- and maybe three, if Oliver contributed.

It was Vera who said, "B--but..." She went no farther because I'd placed a riding crop along the console earlier and when she started to object, I picked it up and slapped Beth's seat with it, missing her but startling just about everyone in the vehicle.

"New rules, remember?" I said brightly.

Frieda took the opportunity to chide the others, "Girls, girls -- you're thinking again..."

I looked up in the rearview. "One day, Frieda, I will catch you with YOUR panties in a twist..."

"And when you do, Master, I'll gladly bend over and let you use that thing on me for being an idiot," Frieda replied, "but in the meantime..." She leaned up between the seats and teased Beth, "Come on, Sweetie, don't tell me you haven't thought about giving Daddy a little ride... I sure would!"

Beth said nothing, but the look on her face as she looked at me said, 'Are you serious? Or are you teasing?'

"No, I'm not funning you," I told her. "Teenage boys spread their mothers at pickups all the time -- and they generally keep them. Fathers and daughters do it, too. And early on, shame tends to make the women more tractable than ex-wives..." I eyed Vera through the rearview, "but they get over it, by and large, when no one stigmatizes them over it. Incest happens a lot more often than anyone wants to admit, anyway -- it's just kept a secret. Just about every young boy fantasizes about climbing between his mother's legs -- it's sex with a loved one, someone very familiar. I'd be willing to bet that it occurs in young girls' masturbatory fantasies, too, for the same reason." Beth was blushing. "And when EVERYBODY thinks about it, you can be certain that SOME actually DO it..."

"You mean Travis..." Vera croaked.

"Undoubtedly," I replied blandly. I looked at Oliver in the rearview. "I bet she's wet." Oliver chuckled.

"Ray's is on the left," Frieda announced.

None of the women said anything about getting leashed and heading for the bar entrance pantyless in lacy bustiers and transparent chemises -- probably because I was playing with the riding crop. We'd picked up heels in Salome's, too -- not 'fuck me' shoes, but regular black three-inch heels. None of them was walking well, but they did nice things for their legs. As we approached the door, I said, "Vera, the other girls know that racy stuff goes on here regularly, so there is no cause for undue excitement. We're going straight back to the back; Beth and Frieda know where."

The bouncer was on; he took one look at the girls, a second at me, and waved us all in with an explosive grunt. "Troy and Tony?" I asked him.

"Nah."

We went straight back under Jock the bartender's watchful eye. We pushed all three of the tables together. I sat on the bench at the table on the left, and Oliver sat on the right with Beth between us and Vera in the chair at Oliver's right and Frieda in the chair on my left. Tara surfaced, recognized us, and asked, "Are you all gonna be regulars?"

I smiled back and said, "I'm afraid not, Honey. This is likely to be our last visit."

Tara looked us all over again. "Too bad..."

"Come visit when you bring back the drink orders," I told her. "We're eating, too." I ordered a beer for myself and a different brand for the Major, who hadn't arrived quite yet. All three of our concubines ordered margaritas and Oliver ordered red wine.

"This isn't so bad," Vera muttered, obviously plucking herself up.

"As long as you don't have to go under the table," I murmured, grinning.

Beth, sensing an opportunity, came to her mother's rescue. "That's not so bad, either, actually."

"It's fun watching the guys at the bar drool, too," Frieda chimed in. Vera shook her head, but she was smiling.

In a bit, Tara was back with the drink tray. "You're expecting someone else?" she asked as the extra beer surfaced.

"At least one," I agreed.

"I'll get the silverware and stuff." Tara swayed off.

"She wants you, Master," Frieda muttered. "They don't shake it like that for nothing."

"Well, she does or she doesn't," I replied. "I'm not dragging her out kicking and screaming."

"You won't have to," Fried opined. "Just put her collar on the table."

"That's an idea," I mused. Tossing Frieda the car keys, I said, "Go get it. Get her whole matching rig. Bring it back in a bag. Don't get lost now!"

"If something happens to cause that, I'LL be kicking and screaming!" Frieda giggled, then swept out, deliberately wiggling her ass at the patrons at the bar.

Tara came back and passed out menus and then started laying out paper placemats and silverware. "Where did she go?"

"Frieda? Out to the car. She'll be right back. I hope there are still ribs back there -- I promised a guy some," I told her.

"We got plenty," Tara assured me. "Thursdays are quieter than Fridays, but things start warming up. We keep a few racks for bar appetizers after the restaurant closes -- and it isn't closed quite yet." She finished up her current armload and headed off for a second. I started eyeballing the menu.

Frieda came back a moment later and settled into her chair as Tara returned and resumed laying out silverware.

"I've never been here," Oliver commented.

"The girls used to come here and hang out regularly -- didn't you, girls?" I asked innocently.

Frieda took the hit. "A couple of times a week," she admitted.

Oliver looked around. "The place looks a little... rough... Weren't you worried that you wouldn't be safe?" At least a couple of the bar patrons were watching us avidly.

Frieda didn't reply; she started adjusting her paper placemat, as if its alignment was critical to the meal. "Frieda..." I chided.

Without looking up, Frieda murmured, "We didn't come here to be safe, Mr. H -- or, at least, I didn't. Not being safe was part of the draw, if you know what I mean."

Oliver looked at Frieda and then at me. I said gently, "Male attention wasn't something either of them was getting, so they were taking a small boat out in deep water to try to find something that might bite. If it pulled them out of the boat, Frieda, at least, was willing to deal with the consequences."

"I was, too," Beth admitted in a small voice. "I wasn't as brave as Frieda, maybe, but you don't say the stuff we said to some of the guys unless you're prepared to handle what might happen -- or think you are, at least..."

I wasn't surprised; Vera wasn't, either, from the expression on her face. Apparently she more or less expected something similar -- maybe even remembered doing something like it herself. But Oliver looked surprised. "Why?"

Beth waved her hands in frustration, "Look at me, Daddy! Lithten to me thpeak! Do I have to draw a map?"

Oliver shrugged. "It appears to me that you've succeeded in collecting male attention without going that far, Dear."

I grinned at Beth. "You're Daddy's Little Girl in any case. That makes two of us who accept you for what you are."

"Troy and Tony would have had fun with you once, Honey," Tara interjected, "then they would have ignored you -- or worse. They aren't the relationship type. You'd have probably ended up fucking Jock and some of the regulars, too."

"I knew that," Frieda muttered.

"I guess I did, too. It... didn't matter." Beth couldn't look at her father.

"Sit, Tara," I invited. "Our other guest hasn't come in." I dug out the hypnotizer. "Ever seen one of these?"

Frieda gave a snort, but that didn't keep Tara from examining the screen long enough to get sucked in. As Tara froze, absorbed, Frieda gave a gasp. "What's happening?"

"It hypnotizes the subject," I explained, "and it implants some suggestions inhibiting them from discussing what they know about current activity."

"You mean like us being concubines?" Frieda asked. "Or the school thing?"

"Yes."

"I'm talking about it..."

"To us -- who all KNOW about it," I pointed out. "Did you try to mention it to anyone else?"

"No."

I just smiled.

The Major arrived at that point; he discovered us pretty quickly upon entering the bar and came back to us with raised eyebrows. "Not exactly invisible, are you, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, this is light entertainment for this place," I replied. "If it wasn't, we wouldn't be here."

Major Howard grunted and turned to Oliver, sticking out his hand. "Doctor Hopkins? Earl Howard, Lieutenant Governor of Nuevo Angelino, and leader of this little expedition." Oliver stood to take his hand and he settled into the chair opposite Oliver after a glance at Tara and the hypnotizer. "When Lieutenant Harper reported that he'd discovered a link to the Brinkman Foundation it generated a minor flap that added to my responsibilities, but we're pleased with the results. I think you will be, too."

"How so?" Oliver asked.

"We plan to extract the Brinkman Foundation tomorrow afternoon -- unless you can think of a good reason why we should not?"

Oliver nodded. "Jack said so, earlier. I'm sure a number of us will be extremely happy. I was somewhat saddened to think that I was abandoning them and only managing to take one other with me. Do you plan to warn them at all? The Foundation has a telephone tree -- a recall roster that will allow them to pull in families and pre-packs. It's text messaging, mostly, with voice backups."

The Major rubbed his face. "Really?" He glanced at the beer in front of his seat...

"It's yours, Sir. I ordered what the AI said you preferred," I told him.

"Thanks." The Major tipped up the glass. After a long pull, he asked Oliver, "Have you ever exercised it?"

Oliver nodded. "Three times. We got ninety-eight percent in something under an hour."

"How long will it take to collect all pertinent records, if I have a squad of ten Marines available to shove the stuff through a transporter?"

"We have numbers on that, too -- the Director is a thorough man," Oliver smiled. "If we just take the servers, ninety minutes."

"They're crap compared to what you'll get on the far end," the Major pointed out.

"But they're storage," Oliver argued. "If we shut them down and evacuate them, we can move them more quickly than any backup procedure we could put in place. We can extract the data to new machines on the far end."

"Right." The Major nodded. "Heavy equipment?"

Oliver shook his head. "Nothing I can think of. Will you be able to evacuate the support staff?"

"Everyone," the Major agreed. "There are twenty-nine of you, correct?"

"Yes."

"Fine." The Major looked at me, then back at Oliver. "You were going in any case, correct? Did you have plans?"

"As it happens, I was gathering my family tomorrow night..."

"We can work around that. Excuse me for a moment." The Major sat apparently sipping his beer, but the look on his face (and my implant) told me he was busy. "How many dependents?"

"Thirty one, including pre-packs," Oliver replied.

There was another momentary delay. "I'll go in at three-thirty. If they make it by five, we'll take them -- as many as forty-five," the Major announced. "That way, if some opportunity to collect a loved one occurs, it can be dealt with. We're not doing things the usual way; I'm sure Lieutenant Harper has explained that to you. We'll be sorting things out in orbit, and the usual limitations don't apply because we have a huge vessel at our disposal and the colony is already up and running and prepared for a growth spurt. We'll sort everyone out in orbit." He eyed Oliver, "I hope that the need for secrecy has been impressed upon everyone; Saturday's operation could become a bloodbath if Earth First gets wind of it."

"This has all been gone over several times with the adults, and we did what we could for the children, but the assumption was that they would get no opportunity to leak much should an actual pickup occur," Oliver replied.

The Major nodded. "We'll just go with what we have. I'm assuming that at least you don't have any declared Earth First sympathizers?"

"That's correct," Oliver agreed. "They'd have never been hired..."

Tara picked that moment to come back from hypnosis. "What does it do?" she asked. Frieda and Beth both snorted.

"It's already done everything it's going to," I chuckled. Meanwhile Tara eyed the man who had appeared out of thin air on her left suspiciously.

"Could I get another beer?" the Major asked.

"Sure..." Tara stood, bemused. "Anyone else?" We all placed orders. "I'll be back to get food orders..." She wandered off.

The Major turned back to Oliver and resumed the conversation, "Good. One less problem. Who would notice if you locked your doors on a Friday afternoon? Before Monday, I mean?"

Oliver shook his head. "Should be no one, if the staff is all in."

"There will still probably be a leak of some type among the dependents -- but if they're gone..." the Major mused.

"Yes..."

Things were quiet until Tara came back with her drink tray and pad. I again invited her to return once the food orders were in. "There isn't anyone else in the bar that Jock isn't able to service," I noted.

Tara snorted. "Well, I'm not tellin' him like that!" she cackled, swaying off.

The Major raised an eyebrow. "Another acquisition?"

I shrugged. "Experience. Three children. And a certain mental bent..."

The Major grunted. "Decurion Tillotson and I haven't collected ANYONE... Not even a bit of service..."

"Well..." I muttered in reply. It wasn't MY fault that they weren't bothering to take care of themselves.

Frieda glanced up. "I'll do ya -- if Master doesn't mind."

"We can discuss it after dinner," I waved it off.

Tara came back and, after eyeing the Major for a moment (he can be somewhat forbidding and his bearing screams his military heritage), settled into the chair she'd occupied before across the table from me. "So, what's up?"

"We're discussing a couple of pickups," I replied evenly.

"Them?" Tara waved a finger at Frieda and Beth.

"No," I amplified, "Confederacy pickups."

"Did one happen? Damn, I missed it! Was it on TV?"

"No, they haven't happened yet," I replied.

Tara cocked her head. "How would you know anything about one that hasn't happened yet?"

"We're planning them."

"Hah!" Tara slapped the table. "THAT's a good one! The only Confederacy pickup you're likely to have anything to do with would be an F-150 with Georgia plates..." She burbled to a stop while her eyes swept over my ID. Then her eyes got big. In a hushed voice, she gasped, Oh... My... God..." She raised her eyes to mine. "You're...?"

"Yes."

Tara turned to her left and met the Major's nod.

I answered her next question before it was asked by the simple expedient of drawing her collar out of the bag and placing it before her. "All you have to do is put it on."

Tara fingered the collar. "My kids..."

"They're going. We'll pick them up when we leave here. Where are they?"

"At home," Tara said tonelessly. "Keisha watches them on nights I work."

"Who is Keisha?"

"Neighbor girl."

"How old is she?"

"Fifteen? Over the limit..."

"You want her?"

"Huh?"

"Do you want us to take her out?" I amplified. "Would she be of any value with the children? Or is she just there?"

"No, she's good with kids. My Abe..." She stopped and looked up at me. "She's kinda hefty, Mister -- and not real pretty. Kind of, well, the Aunt Jemima type, although she isn't tall. Kinda... round, if you know what I mean. Real good with the kids, though."

"I go by personality," I replied.

The Major rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Tara went back to fingering the collar. "What do I do after I put it on?"

"Whatever I tell you to do," I replied. "ANYTHING I tell you to. For starters, AFTER you deliver dinner, you can entertain us by doing a nice slow striptease, after which you can put on the outfit in this bag." I held it out to her.

Tara took the bag and put it on her lap, then opened it and peered inside. "It matches?"

"Yes."

"Then what?"

"I'll probably want to determine if you give a lousy blowjob or Jock is just prejudiced."

"Hell, I know the answer to that!" Tara chuckled, then turned to the Major, holding out the collar. "Would you help me with this, please?"