Chapter 10 – Brothers and Sisters

Samantha was sweating, despite the temperature in the room, as she stood at ease, eyes boring a hole into the wall opposite. Behind her, standing stiffly at ease like the teen before her, Sergeant-Major Blondell was sweating, boring her own hole. Lieutenant-Colonel Desrocher sat to Samantha's right, silent and grave, facing toward Samantha's left. Sergeant Kowalski and Corporal Redburn stood to Samantha's left, facing the Lieutenant-Colonel, likewise at ease, likewise unmoving, likewise sweating. Any one of them could face punishment for what had just transpired.

In front of Samantha and Butch, Colonel Deschenes sat waiting, contemplating the silent crowd in his office.

The tension was so great, you could cut it with Private Al Ghamdi's knife.

The concubine that functioned as the Colonel's executive assistant opened the door and admitted two men to the already crowded office.

The first was a private, escorted by his sergeant. “Private Al Harbi reporting, Sir!” exclaimed the recruit, saluting. Samantha recognized him: the third of the three sponsors who had not yet registered their offspring for school. He spoke with a definite, if soft, accent.

“Yes, Private?” challenged the Colonel.

“I would like a quick word with Optio Redburn if I could, Sir?”

“This cannot wait for later, privately?”

“Sir, by your leave, sir, I... I think you should witness this as well.” The man blushed slightly, but turned to face Samantha. She turned toward him as well.

“Optio Redburn, I would like to apologize for my words and attitudes earlier. It was inexcusable, and not worthy of you nor of the Marine Corps.”

“Apology accepted, Private Al Harbi.”

“Those words you spoke on the parade square today, they have gone around the Brigade. I find I cannot argue with their logic. I admire your courage, and your intelligence. I have registered all of my children. They will have their first classes this afternoon.”

“Thank you, Private Al Harbi. I'm sure you will find it does you credit to do so.”

“You are too kind, Optio. If I may, one last question before I am finished here and must resume my military duties. You said the concubines are welcome at the school?”

“Yes, Private.” Samantha suspected he wanted to register his concubines.

He did. “My two concubines have not completed high school yet. Do I have your permission?”

“Certainly. Already a number of concubines are students, yours shall not be alone there.”

He nodded, saluted her and the Colonel, and left with his sergeant.

Everyone resumed their positions. Waiting. Sweating.

Not long after that interruption, the senior corpsman entered the room, coming to attention and saluting.

“Sir, we regret that we cannot provide you with a CAP score for Private Al Ghamdi.”

“No?” the Colonel demanded, puzzled.

“He has experienced a psychological break, and is totally incapable of communicating. He screams and attempts to attack everyone who comes near, despite repeatedly being thrown back by the door's force shields. We recommend that he either be recycled or sent to one of the rehabilitation hospitals. We can do nothing for him here.”

“AI, do you concur?” the Colonel demanded aloud.

“Colonel Deschenes, Private Al Ghamdi is incapable of rational thought for the foreseeable future. He continues to be a danger to others, and is likely to remain so. Recycling is recommended.”

“Procedure for ordering the recycling of a citizen?” Michael asked.

“For a citizen of the Confederacy subject to the Uniform Code of Military Justice, the individual's unit commanding officer, the senior Civil Service officer and the two highest ranking officers at the station. That would be Commander McPherson, yourself, Lieutenant-Colonel Desrocher and Optio Redburn.”

Every one in the room realized what the AI had just told them. A thirteen-year-old girl was going to be one of those responsible for killing a man. They sat or stood, alone with their thoughts.

Michael finally broke the funk. “Everyone, meeting room, now please.” He pointed to the larger board-room that adjoined his tiny office. “Optio Redburn, stay for a moment, please.”

Her heart pounding in her chest, Samantha waited for the room to clear.

Michael made a “sit” gesture toward one of his guest chairs.

“I know this sucks. When you signed up, you thought you'd be dealing with widowed concubines and orphaned dependants, not making them into widows and orphans.”

“I knew the possibility was there, but to have it actually happen is a little unnerving.”

“You understand the importance of this?”

“Yes, Sir, although I'm sorry I have to be the one to do it. He's dangerous and horribly broken, isn't he?”

“Yes, he is. It will actually be a kindness to him.”

“And I'll have to clean up the mess, I guess?” she said. “He'll have concubines and dependants I need to take charge of.”

“Granted. Mind you, there's an even bigger mess.”

Samantha cocked her head questioningly. “The tank, sir?”

“That too, but that's not what I'm referring to. How did such a broken individual get a CAP score of 6.5? I'm sending all witnesses' reports, evaluations, everything back to DECO for the boffins there to pick through. And now, if you're feeling better, we've got some distasteful paperwork to go through and you have more concubines to rescue.”

No sooner had Samantha settled her two newest charges into the Unassigned Concubine Quarters than she received a visitor in her office in the corner of the yet-unfinished Beauty Saloon. Private Al Harbi stood in her doorway, kepi nervously clutched in his hand.

“Optio Redburn?”

“Yes, Private? How can I help you? Did you get your concubines and dependants all registered?” Samantha was just being polite; the AI had notified her that not only had he signed both of his children, but both of his concubines as well.

“Yes, thank you, they start tomorrow. The children were both so excited to hear that they'll be meeting new playmates and learning new things.” His face glowed with happiness. “My wives – forgive me, but I think of them that way – they both thanked me.” He blushed. “Very physically.”

“I understand,” Samantha assured him, blushing herself. “When you show your concubines you care about them, it makes for a happy pod, doesn't it?”

“Yes, yes,” he assured her, eyes aglow. “However,” and the glow dimmed somewhat, “I have to ask about my sister.”

“Your... sister...” Samantha had no clue what the man was talking about.

“Yes, Sanaa. She is... she was that is... Private Al Ghamdi's concubine.”

“Ah, I see,” Samantha said, although she didn't.

“If I could be sure that she was being treated well...”

“How did you and your sister come to be on the same planet this way?”

“Her sponsor was her husband – it was an arranged marriage, and I must admit I disagreed with my father's choice, I thought him a brute who would dishonour our family. She of course could not refuse to come with him – where we come from, disobeying your husband is unthinkable!”

“Ah, I see. Would you like to see her now?”

“Oh, it would be too much trouble, but could you see to it that she goes to a good sponsor? I'd sponsor her myself, but I don't have the CAP space.”

“Let's see, you're rescored every year on your birthday,” Samantha pondered aloud.

“My next birthday is not for eight months! And, and I was last tested only three months ago.”

“Ah. Well, on to Plan B.” She looked up what little she could find on extra concubines.

“There's this thing about being granted a supernumerary on occasion. I have to ask the Colonel for a special dispensation.” She looked at him. “I'll submit the application. The worst he can do is say 'no'. Let's see if that doesn't get us anywhere.”

“Yes, please, Sir,” begged Al Harbi eagerly.

“In the mean time let's see if we can't just get you in to see your sister,” Samantha offered. Again she cursed not having a subvocal link to the AI – she wanted to confirm that they really were brother and sister. Finally she managed to retrieve the records and make the confirmation.

“You do realize, I hope, that as your concubine you'd have to keep her pregnant. You'd be expected to do the deed, either directly with her or by swapping her out for a night.”

The Marine blushed. “Yes, that is so. The situation is so different out here, is it not?”

“Yes,” she agreed absently, as the light went on in Sanaa's quarters.

Sanaa was not quite asleep yet. Her daughter had not yet gone down, but her son had. She brought out four-year-old Taja with her.

“Yes, Optio?” she asked politely. She shared the same gentle accent as her brother, despite her fluency with English.

“Sanaa!” cried the private.

“Fahim!” she responded eagerly, embracing him as best she could while encumbered with a sleepy toddler.

“AI, submit that request for a supernumerary for Private Al Harbi to Colonel Deschenes” Samantha instructed. “Advise that the ranking Civil Service officer has signed off on the request, with a recommendation for approval.”

“Request submitted, Optio Redburn.”

“What?” asked Sanaa, confused.

“Your brother offered to take you as a concubine, if it's allowed. He'll have to be granted a supernumerary by the Old Man, so...” she shrugged, “...we're asking.”

“And has this 'old man' approved?” Sanaa asked hesitantly, hoping against hope.

“Yes, the 'Old Man' approves,” came the sardonic tones of Michael's disembodied voice.

Sanaa squealed in delight as she hugged her brother.

Samantha Redburn relaxed. Some things had turned out right in this lousy day.