Chapter 7 -- Drinking Buddies

The second full day as a member of the Confederacy's Uniformed Services had been a stressful and energy-draining one for the 13-year-old, but Samantha walked into the Officers' Club with her head held high. Starting first thing this morning, she had been officially on her own -- the Grey Goose was on her way back to Earthat with a fresh load of pods to pick up yet more potential survivors from the Swarm.

Feeling quite grown-up, she went to the bar and ordered an appletini from the list that sprung up on the bar surface in front of her. The concubine, a cute blond woman who looked about mid-twenties but could have been anything, quickly mixed up the concoction and handed it to her. Samantha took a sip - "A mocktail, I assume?"

The concubine gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm under strict orders -- you're too young for booze."

Samantha gave a slight shrug and with a shy smile thanked the bartender anyway. Sipping the colourful drink still made her feel more like an adult.

Chaz rose and gestured to her to come over.

As she settled down, Chaz began gently grilling her. "How are things so far?"

"So far so good. Nobody's kicked their concubines to the curb, and in fact I'm getting a lot of help from the sponsors volunteering their concubines."

"Yes," Chaz chuckled, "it's amazing how co-operative everyone is when the Old Man cracks the whip."

Samantha grinned back. "And the school will be open for business on Monday. We'll start with the older kids, the concubines and sponsors who haven't finished high school, and work that somehow into the Marines' training regimen." She sighed. "We're lucky there's so few at the moment."

"Give me a list, and I'll have the Marines transferred to special platoons. We'll train them as Marines half the day and have them take their high school through the other half."

Samantha nodded in relief. "That'll be a help." She spoke into her wrist communicator, asking the AI to provide the list to the two of them first thing in the morning.

"How about the brothel?" Chaz wanted to know next. "The Beauty Saloon?"

Samantha blushed. "The Officers' Club bartender staff will be increased, and will rotate through the brothel's bar. I've got a few ladies who used to be waitresses at bars and rougher restaurants, so I've got my wait-staff. One of the concubines used to run a bar, she's going to run the brothel. And we picked up a model shoot, so I've got experts in hair, makeup and dressing to help the unassigned concubines. I'm just missing one important detail."

"And that would be?"

"Unassigned concubines." Samantha grinned happily.

"That's a nice situation to be in. Don't expect it to last, however," Chaz warned.

"I don't," Samantha replied fatalistically.

"And on that note, there are some changes coming along that will impact you rather directly."

"Oh?" Samantha grew wary.

"First, in less than two weeks the second of the five drafts will be arriving -- the kilopod ship CSS Hotel California. That's another thousand or so families right there. And on its first trip, its sister ship the Hotel Maine should follow within two weeks after."

"Oh, goody." Samantha chewed her lower lip.

"And the Navy has finally decided they're sending us something. To start with, three Castle-class corvettes, the Pendennis Castle, the Rayleigh Castle and the Scarborough Castle, and two assault ships, the Sir Lionel and the Sir Griflet."

Another officer overheard and complained, "We want Tarawas!"

"For training, you're not getting them. They'll come later." Chaz took a sip of his bourbon and cola. "As soon as they're built."

A few days later, a small group of officers stood out in the snow welcoming the first of the new draft of Marines to Thule. Along with the Colonel, his 2IC and the Sergeant Major, Optio Redburn stood bundled up in her own white parka. To differentiate between herself and the Marine officers, her epaulets were grey.

As they watched pod after pod settle gently into its support cradle, Michael talked to the young CS cadet for the first time in many days.

"How are your plans coming along?"

"I need to know how many concubines and dependants I'm getting, how many of those need to be added to my school roster, how many I can borrow for the colony's use..." She shrugged, barely noticeably in the thick parka. "The usual."

"I'm most concerned about the Navy's impact, although I shouldn't be. I'm afraid that until Scott Base is completed, they're going to be leaning on us for support."

"I understand, Sir. I've arranged with Lieutenant Carruthers for assignment of some of the pod production to Scott Base, plus I've managed to sweet-talk him out of some pods for the transient quarters."

"There's a story there, I'm sure," was the Colonel's wry reply. He wasn't expecting to hear it, but Samantha didn't see why not.

"The Lieutenant's daughter turned fourteen last month, and he didn't want to do her. I made a trade: I find Julia a nice sponsor to breed with, and Carruthers gets me my pods. Commander Walker's concubines were boasting that he didn't go for the 'Big Bud' package, as he didn't need it because he was already very nice. I've seen it, at the swimming pool on Thursday night." She smiled at the memory, growing moist between her legs. "I brought Carruthers and Walker together on Friday night, and convinced the Commander to do the deed, not that that took much persuading, and to keep his manhood as it is. It's a win-win-win: the Commander gets the ego-boost of popping a young and very willing girl's cherry, the Lieutenant avoids feeling like he's an incestuous version of Humbert Humbert, and I get my pods."

"Gonna get the Commander to do yours when you turn 14?" teased Butch.

Samantha flashed a happy smile behind her face mask. "I might. He's on the short list."

"Ah, you go girl!" Butch high-fived her.

The Colonel contemplated the pair of giggling girls, and thought it incredibly incongruous: a two-metre-tall wall of muscle giggling. Just something about it didn't sound right. Butch's laughter should be deep and full-throated, not a schoolgirlish trill.

Unlike the first draft's arrival two weeks in the past, the new arrivals had a package of information to listen to and absorb before the pods connected to the tunnels. By the time the last of the pods had arrived and been emplaced, Samantha had a large list of potentially useful concubines and the Colonel had his latest draft of trainees ready to start.

The Decurion aboard CSS Hotel California was a fussy little man who had taken the barest minimum of enhancements. Walter Paige was leaving in just a few hours. The turn-around time for this ship was advanced because as fast as the occupied pods were removed to the surface, unoccupied pods (some still needing 24 hours worth of work by the pod's AI to complete) were slotted into the just-vacated position.

The Decurion also had some very bad news for Samantha: her first unassigned concubines. The two Civil Service officers were sitting in a side room at the Officers' Club as he explained the situation.

"It was an ugly incident," Decurion Paige related. "Just after we'd jumped to light-speed, too. The one sponsor attacked and killed the second sponsor because he wanted access to the first sponsor's 10-year-old. Killing a fellow sponsor is one of those automatic death sentence offences. We also redid the killer's CAP score, so that we could find out what went wrong. Turns out he'd had a psychotic episode. He had gone from a 6.7 to a 2.3, with an undiagnosed sociopathic condition. We lost two sponsors -- well, one anyway -- and almost spaced four perfectly acceptable concubines, all of whom had kids. We only stopped the AI from enforcing that by farming the four out temporarily to four of our Marines on board, but they were in no position to keep them -- we don't have any spare space on board."

Samantha looked down at her Coconut Key Lime Momtini (the name had sounded interesting, sort of Southern and tropical and warm) and grimaced. When she looked up, the Colonel, his 2IC and Lieutenant Carruthers were looking at her with deep sympathy and concern.

"Well, they're why we have a Civil Service," she noted. "Lieutenant Carruthers, Sir, can I ask you to push the completion of the Beauty Saloon?"

The four concubines and their children made for a sad tableau in the dining room of the Beauty Saloon. In addition to the concubines Sarah, Lydia, LaToya and Chrissie, Samantha now had 11-year-old Thomas, 10-year-old Marianne (the girl who the guilty sponsor had intended to attack), an eight-year-old girl named Claire, five-year-old Bonnie and a six-month-old boy named Tomas. LaToya sat nursing her infant.

"My deepest sympathies at the loss of your sponsors," Samantha offered. Chaz and Butch were there as well, in the background behind Samantha, offering whatever moral support they could.

"OK, as you probably have found out, you're now in the concubine pool," Samantha found herself saying. "We'll try to get you sponsored as soon as possible. First, I'm going to try to get you in for a CAP rescore as soon as possible. It's just possible that your scores are up high enough to volunteer, and that will take you and two of your fellow unassigned concubines off my hands." Samantha knew it was unlikely. They were still far too traumatized from the incident for one thing. "The kids will be placed in school first thing in the morning, and you'll start working the brothel tomorrow night." The four women had been hopeful, but at the mention of the brothel they became despondent again.

Yet again Chaz had found it regrettable that the AI had considered installing a subvocal interface unnecessary on the young cadet. He also hadn't been able to convince the Colonel to override the AI, although Michael, being planetary governor, did have that power. He'd have to whisper very quietly. He did have subvocal communications with Butch, however, and asked her to distract the four women for a second.

As Butch started to prattle on about life on Thule, Chaz whispered in the young cadet's ear, "I think they could use a drink."

Samantha nodded. "Me too." Together, the two officers picked up four rum and colas from Jolene the bartender who had been sent over by her sponsor when he found out her services just might prove useful.

After the now-unassigned concubines had finished their drinks, Samantha showed the four to their rooms, and the rooms where their kids would sleep. "AI, please allow them to access food from the replicators, and to access the music channels."

The AI baulked at that one. "Typically, only minimal levels of sustenance are permitted, and no entertainment channels, Optio Redburn."

Optio Redburn turned stern. "AI, what is the reason for that regulation?"

"To preserve colony resources for Confederacy citizens, Optio Redburn."

"And how much excess power would be utilized in this situation by four concubines and their potential sponsor-grade offspring?"

"The amount saved is negligible," conceded the AI. Did Samantha detect a note of reluctance?

"In that event, I posit that you are not really saving any measurable amount, and can safely provide them with standard rations and access to the audio entertainment system."

The AI paused. "Your argument is persuasive, Optio Redburn. The unassigned concubines will be granted access to standard level food and entertainment."

"Like pulling teeth," she muttered to herself. "AI, monitor these quarters. If a situation develops that needs my attention, please alert me. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Optio Redburn." Apparently some of the lessons her father had taught the pod AI were being passed along...