Chapter 5

A small blood vessel pulsed on the side of the sergeant's head. For a moment, Dumont wished it were an aneurism. Dying would avoid the problem, but he needed to resolve it. He began making small forward circles with his fingers on his temples. He could feel the tension refuse to yield to the massage. "Bill!"

"Yes, Sergeant," Bill walked toward him.

Sergeant Dumont added fingers and widened the circles. The pain began to yield. "This boy thinks he is going with you." His voice was bemused, but urgent.

Bill looked down at Randy; his student sported a look that only appeared when he smelled a checkmate. "Randy, why do you think you're going with me?" He placed a reassuring hand on Randy's shoulder.

Setting his backpack on a table, Randy pulled out a composition notebook. His Social Studies teacher had once wondered aloud whether Randy would have one of these notebooks with him when he finally sat on the Supreme Court. He opened to a folded page, and then took a deep breath. "Back when school started in August, you explained why we had to obey our teachers; it was the concept of In Loco Parentis." Randy turned to the next page. "From way back in common English law, that means you hold parental authority over us."

"That is implied and traditional, Randy," Bill retorted. Desperately, he tried to recall the discussion from his Education Law class twenty years ago.

"The sergeant stated that an extraction constituted an emergency." Randy crossed to the table gently lifting a manila envelope. "Our permission slips states" pulling out one of the field trip forms, Randy continued. "As the parent or legal guardian of the student above, I give him/her permission to participate in this fieldtrip, including related travel. I hereby grant permission for the supervising teacher to act in loco parentis." Holding up the form, he pointed. "See it has this part in parenthesis, '(in place of the parent)'." Randy slid further into his 'I am right, here is my proof' shit-eating grin that he sported when winning an argument. "'In the event of any emergency I accept responsibility for all costs and actions taken for the safety of my child.' With Ms. Howard and Mrs. Carlson, now concubines, they no longer can be considered chaperones. Under Confederacy Law that leaves Mr. Jenkins as the sole legal guardian of everyone, during the extraction that was on the fieldtrip. In this room, those of us who are under the age of fourteen are his dependents. Ask the AI. We have discussed the contractual obligations."

Bill was stunned. He began searching for loopholes. The Safety and Security department at the District had been trying to develop a disaster scenario if a pickup happened at any school events. Led by Barney Fife's stunted cousin, it had been a cluster fuck. The idiot had wanted to have all CAP cards deposited upon entry to any school event. Bill fought to move his mind back to the present. Focus Bill, focus, he is arguing in black and white; you need to think. "Randy, this is a matter of civil law, it is not absolute."

The smirk Randy sported, as he spoke then, worried him. "Mr. Jenkins, the permission form is also a written contract under that same civil law."

"They're sending someone down to deal with this." The sergeant turned to the transport disk. "This is above my pay grade."

A scream pierced the room.

"Ms. Howard!" Ruby Crane shouted in panic. "It's Eve! Blood! Help!"

Arriving at the table, Eve had blood down both of her legs. Pale and slumped forward, she lay very still. Leslie checked for a pulse.

"Eve, Eve, Eve baby it's Ms. Howard." Leslie called to the girl. "Bill, she has a rapid, thready pulse. Her skin is cold and clammy."

"What happened, Ruby?" Bill fumbled for his cell phone. He needed to dial 911. Turning to Ruby, he asked. "What did you see?"

"About five minutes ago she said she wanted to put her head down." Ruby offered. "Then I turned and saw the blood. I�m sorry."

Several students began to wonder aloud if her injuries were the result of a gunshot. Bill dropped his voice into a lower pitch to capture everyone's attention. "We only need to know what you saw happen, not what you thought happened." There was no signal on the cell phone.

Tiffany swooped in, pulling Ruby into an embrace. "You told us as soon as you noticed." Tiffany led Ruby away.

"We can get her medical attention in moments." Sergeant Dumont placed his hand on Bill's phone.

Ramirez eased himself next to Eve and Leslie. Brady quickly moved any close on looking kids away quickly. The two stunned boys who froze, Brady moved them to the side by pushing just enough to force them to comply.

"Ramirez, far pad is set for Artemis. They're waiting," Sergeant Dumont spoke quickly.

Forgetting the reality of the extraction entirely, Bill acted according to convention. Injured girl goes with female teacher. "Leslie, go with her. Make sure she's OK."

"Done, Bill," Leslie followed the corporal. Brady cleared a direct path to the pad, casually turning eight-foot tables on their sides with the flick of his wrist. The corporal carrying Eve disappeared in a flash. Brady held Leslie for a count of two, and then she followed immediately.

"Now that the excitement is over," a voice came from behind them.

Bill turned, and found himself looking at a man dressed in a sharp grey uniform. The man had been sitting with the shooter's wife. He walked to where Bill stood. Thrusting out his hand, he introduced himself.

"I am Andres Zucher."

Striding through the hall on the way to the transporter room, Rolfe Altig listened to the AI's report. Too many people had been slipping into the fold by dubious means. He had to hurry and take control of the situation. A civil service decurion from the Kilo class colony ship Othello had been dispatched. Decisions made by colony-based personnel often were not in the spirit of director Chandler's dictates. The need to hurry spurred Rolfe on. Arriving at the portal room, he naturally had to wait.

An emergency medical retrieval ended his chance for a quick entrance to the extraction. A flash accompanied a marine carrying a kid. Rolfe had seen a lot of carnage from his time spent in motocross. The limpness of the sprawled form combined with the pale pallor of the skin spelled trouble. The corporal rushed toward the med techs. The blood on the corporal's sleeves and shirt heightened his suspicions. An injured child would be fodder for the Earthies. Turning back to the pad, he saw a naked concubine pop through. Maybe they were lucky and no one would over-publicize the incident. Seconds later, he found himself back on Earth.

The flashing of lighting that accompanied his transport startled him. Not hearing any thunder with such a flash further heightened the sensation. Once he gathered himself, he oriented on the sergeant, a Decurion, a boy, and a man on the far side of the room.

The path to the group was clear; tables that should have been upright were turned and pushed aside. Rolfe could see the way marred with blood splatters, which defined the route of the corporal as he carried his burden. Rolfe crossed the room, avoiding any of the blood.

"Thank goodness! A representative from the Department of Evacuation and Colonial Operations has arrived." That came from the exasperated decurion.

It took two more steps for the weight of the comment to crash into Rolfe. Everyone turned to him. Three flustered men and a short kid with a grin on his face. If he could swing this, it would feather his cap. The decurion slipped over to a table. Rolfe smiled inwardly. With the Civil Service removing itself, his job would be easier.

With Robbie under control, Joyce hid herself in the protective power of the Marine's arms. He carried her to a table where several of the schoolgirls sat.

A whispered question entered her ear. "How should I introduce you?"

She realized she never gave him her name. "Joyce, I'm Joyce."

Reaching the throng of students, the Marine stopped. "Girls, this is Joyce. She's going to sit and wait with you here."

Moving to take a seat, Joyce looked at the girls seated at the table. She saw two things, a bit of fear and a spark; her daughters still had that spark. Joyce had let Robbie beat it out of her. She wished she could be one of the naked women going. Anything had to be better than Robbie was.

Joyce put her head down and tried to hide. The girls left her alone. How much time passed, she didn't know. The man the girls called Mr. Jenkins had showed more compassion in the last few minutes than Robbie ever did. He was the kind of father her daughters needed.

"I'm Andres Zucher," spoke a man who took her hand softly. "I work for Samuel Cassell."

Who this Samuel Cassell might be, Joyce had no idea. From Andres' tone, he was a high muckity-muck. "I'm Joyce Moore."

"I've arranged to speak with you." Still holding her hand, he looked directly into her eyes. "You've been making these gestures." With his free hand, he made the fist at his chest then a peace sign with the back of the hand facing away.

Joyce nodded.

"That means she's in danger, mister," one of the girls at the table volunteered.

Andres looked at the four girls sitting at the table, eyebrows up as his mouth slowly opened. He turned to each girl; with the index finger of his free hand, he gently beseeched a hush. "That's the assumption I was working on," he winked. The girls responded with nods and smiles.

Joyce pulled her hand away. She had been at a PTA presentation on the use of those signals. She had been flashing them when she was nervous around Robbie. Somebody finally saw, somebody who could deal with Robbie.

Andres turned back to Joyce. "Was it because of your husband?"

Joyce nodded. She glanced at the girls again. Their expressions shifted, but remained supportive. However, the Marines were just as big as Robbie. They stopped Robbie. Maybe she could take a chance.

"Joyce, Joyce," Andres spoke to her.

"Sorry Andres," she looked back giving him her full attention.

"Why are you afraid?"

"Robbie talks in his sleep. He and others are planning on attacking a group of people Sunday." Joyce sought for any changes on his face. A few of the girls took in sharp breaths.

"That attack is scheduled for here." He paused. "We chose to rescue these people first."

"Why did you let Robbie shoot people?" The venom on her voice shocked her.

"The pistols he had were made of a resin that we could not scan for." The response carried some regret. "Joyce, had you not pushed his arm away, several of these students might have been injured."

"Thanks, Miss Joyce," was joined by a few other murmured thank-yous from the girls at the table.

"We were planning on meeting Robbie and his terrorist friends when they made an appearance Sunday." Anders said as he turned to look toward Robbie's sitting form. "Where are they staging tonight"

Joyce interrupted, "What do you mean by staging?"

"Uh, I think queuing?" He looked at Joyce, seeing her lack of understanding. "Where they are gathering?"

Joyce nodded.

"I think he is planning on killing me." Joyce could feel the tears starting to run. "I just want to save my kids from him."

"Records show that you scored a five point seven on your last test."

"If I could give you where they are tonight could I go with him?" Joyce pointed at Bill. This elicited a muffled response from the girls.

Andres looked as he was thinking this over. His face morphed its way through worry, surprise, and finally ended in a big smile.

"Where would that be?" he asked quickly after the smile flashed.

A few scars and countless bruises taught Joyce to think before she spoke. "You never answered my question, Andres." Having a piece of hope to hold on to, no matter how tenuous, let her stretch and stand her ground.

Andres went back to his poker face. Even the girls had leaned in a bit, showing support for their fellow female. Joyce doubted that they could sway Andres' decision. Still she had their support. The twitching in the corner of his mouth meant something. Joyce wondered how good he might be at poker.

Andres pointed in the direction of Robbie. "He and a few others tricked the prepack group you stumbled upon. They planned to fake a pickup, kill a few people, and then use technology developed by that group as terrorist weapons."

Joyce nodded. "He mumbled something about a torpedo and the testing center at the International Mall."

His left eyebrow arched. Joyce read that as a good omen.

"Tell me and maybe I can arrange it."

He never added any more comment. A girl at a nearby table screamed. Everyone's attention became riveted on her. Andres moved toward the sound.

Perhaps being recycled for killing this kid might be worth it. Rolfe could see his career decomposing. The AI had supported Randy's argument. His option, to tag Randy for special consideration when he turned fourteen, was ignored. At the moment, recycling was becoming the better option.

"Mr. Altig, the established rules are as you have stated," droned the AI. "The tradition of common law and case law support Randy Williams' assertion about this social contract. A state of emergency does exist, as Sergeant Dumont indicated." Rolfe had a sickening feeling. "It is in the text of the permission form; In Loco Parentis is specifically granted. By definition, schools act through their teachers in the best interests of the students. Teachers have great latitude in this respect. The question becomes one of guardianship during this extraction. The matter will be discussed with the AIs in the communication sphere of Earth."

The four of them looked at each other. Not being an American, Rolfe hoped his references to parental rights would sway the argument in light of his limited experience with U.S. Law. At least Randy had lost a bit of his smugness. Ten minutes ago, following protocol, Rolfe had sent a message calling for assistance. Given where this could potentially lead, he needed help from his superiors.

Rolfe reassessed the teacher and the sergeant. The two men had argued just as passionately as he had. The boy had answers for every point they made. True, some of them were suspect, even shaky, but the boy held his ground. Time passed slowly. With each minute elapsed Rolfe felt his argument would prevail.

The AI began. "A decision has been made." Rolfe sat down. "During an extraction, Confederacy law takes precedence. Children under the age of fourteen are the responsibility of the sponsor and family concubines." Rolfe smiled. Parental rights had been the key. "By their signatures, the parents have voluntarily relinquished temporary custody to the School Board's representatives, Bill Jenkins and the concubines Leslie Howard and Tiffany Carlson. It is the decision that the fifteen students under fourteen years of age, in these circumstances, meet the definition of a dependent. Accordingly they are now dependents of Bill Jenkins."

Randy pumped his fist. "Yes!"

The adults looked at each other. "Shit," came in unison.

Bill stood stunned. He had just picked up fifteen kids. Much to his surprise, his first thoughts turned to what Leslie would do to him?

Rolfe Altig turned toward Randy. A ruffled brow topped a reddening face. Rolfe took a quick step toward Randy, he spewed something in a Germanic language. Bill felt himself moved to intercede.

"Mr. Altig, get control of yourself." The sergeant invaded Altig's personal space. Faced with looking into the sergeant's chest, Rolfe managed to compose himself. Rolfe took a step back before they locked eyes. A battle of wills began. It lasted a long time. Rolfe Altig strode across the room, vanishing as he stepped onto the transport pad. Someone tapped on Bill's shoulder.

"Herr Jenkins, excuse me."

Turning, Bill saw the decurion, Andres Zucher, standing next to him. He looked a bit smug. Bill waited for the other shoe to drop. "What other surprises are there for me?"

"I have a favor to ask." Those words are the same ones their majesties, the team leader and her stooge, had used earlier today to get him to stay tonight.

Bill took a deep breath. "Hit me."

"Now that you have twenty-one dependents, you will need additional concubines to help care for them."

Bill wanted to puke. In fact, he had a small attack of the dry heaves. He located the nearest garbage can, just in case.

"I need to sit and think." Bill felt pale. He wanted to avoid mirrors.

Bill let the decurion lead him over to a table. He sat down. Tiffany sent Misty to get him another glass of water. An unidentifiable voice had him lean forward and put his head between his knees. Bill knew that was a good working start. He figured another foot and a half and he could kiss his own ass goodbye. The deep breaths he took began to drive the nausea away. A hand was stroking his back.

"I have a confidential informant whose score makes her a concubine."

Bill sat up slowly. The blonde-haired woman who had been sitting by the kids smiled at him. "Decurion, please tell me a bit about her."

Anders took the reader from Bill. Tapping the screen repeatedly, he handed the device back.

"She has three minor children, girls nine, seven, and four. The informant's overall score is five point three. Mothering sub-scores are in the high eights; aggression is a mixed bag: she is highly protective of her children but otherwise tends to avoid conflict. She would rather work in groups and follow a strong personality."

Bill took the reader. He threw his shoulders forward, as the stroking on his back began to ease away his tension. Her picture was pixilated. What would she be like? Bill was torn.

"Why me?" The girls at the table seemed to lean in to listen.

"You can ask her yourself, Bill." Anders smiled. "She's stroking your back."

Turning his head, he saw her mouth the word 'please'. The profound sadness kicked him the hardest. "I agree."

"Joyce Moore is now Bill Jenkins' concubine."

Bill pulled her hand to his lips and kissed the fingers. Tiny tears formed in the corner of her left eye.

Joyce stepped out of her shoes, she then slipped off her jeans, followed by her top and bra. Several of the girls inhaled at the sight. She turned a slow circle. Bill could see bruising across her back, legs, and ribs. Standing, he took her in his arms, gingerly holding her. He let her dictate the embrace. "You're safe, Joyce." She pressed her head into him and cried. He swayed a bit and gave a slight "shh" sound. Pushing her back to make eye contact, he could see Joyce flinch. "I won't hurt you."

"They are gathering at O'Grady Trucking on the corner of Moore Road & Justin Lane in Thonotosassa."

"Thank you," Anders replied as he stood and looked at the sergeant.

Standing still for a moment, Bill ran the details over again in his mind. Bill brought Joyce over to Ray-ray. The Decurion followed them.

"Ray-ray, this is Joyce," Bill introduced her. "You can see she's had it rough. Hold her. Make her feel safe."

Becoming engulfed in those big black arms around her stopped her from shaking. She gripped back, her hands affixed to his forearms. Sensations of warmth turned to feelings of acceptance. Joyce wanted to cry over the loss of what should have been. However, the future promised by Bill, and now Ray-ray, held them at bay.

Pointing over to Robbie, Joyce asked "Are you sure he cannot move?"

"Yes, Joyce, he is unable to move but he can hear and see," the Decurion answered.

"What's going to happen to him?"

The Decurion led her and Ray-ray a few feet away. "I will not lie to you. He will be questioned and then a summary execution will end his life."

Even with all that Robbie had done, Joyce felt a moment of sadness. She wanted justice and a small measure of revenge. "I've been in fear of him for years. Part of me wants to kill him now."

"I just met you, Joyce," Ray-ray interjected, "but seeing what he's done, I'd help."

Andres stood still for a moment. A thin smile crossed his lips. "Bill, Sergeant Dumont, join us please."

Hands grabbed Robbie's head. They twisted his head around, forcing him to look at the big black sergeant. "Robbie, I got some good news for you." The black man's hand pointed off to the left, out of his sight. "Your wife's decided to become a breeder to save your life. We're trying her out tonight."

Joyce came into view leading the black cop by his cock. She let go of the cock. She tilted Robbie's head so he could see her. She pointed at Ray-ray's oozing cock. "Robbie you see this nigger cock? Even soft, it's bigger than yours is." Robbie's eyes fluttered, Joyce fought to keep from flinching. Her ex would never touch her again. "It's going to plant black babies in my belly." She knelt in front of Ray-ray. Lifting the cock, she kissed his balls. "My babies are waiting in there, Robbie." Standing, she took hold of Ray-ray's dick. "Come over here and cum in me, my nigger stud." Joyce then led Ray-ray behind Robbie, out of his line of sight.

Pulling Bill together with her and Ray-ray, she whispered, "I'm so sorry for saying the n-word." She hugged Ray-ray, then Bill. "I just wanted to leave him with something to imagine."

The Decurion and the sergeant approached the group. "That should fuck with his brain and place him off balance," commented the sergeant. "He'll be very easy to read."

Joyce blushed.

"What if Bill wants you to have a baby with me?" Ray-ray asked, flashing a little boy's grin.

"I want to have a lot of practice to get used to the size. I didn't lie when I said he is tiny."

Looking at the state of her body, Bill whispered, "Finger our girl till she cums, good and hard." He looked up at Joyce. Bill spoke very softly. "Move over behind the ex-husband. Joyce, be sure to tell him what feels good, be loud for Robbie to hear."

"That, Bill, is vicious and evil," whispered Anders as he looked at Joyce first and then at Bill. Taking her hand, he shared, "But I think Joyce deserves some revenge."

Ray-ray led her over behind Robbie. She kissed him then he placed her bare back against his stomach. "Easy, easy. Let me get you wet first." What followed were stanzas of faster, deeper and praises unto god, for Ray-ray's skills.

Bill would have never thought he could feel this sadistic. He moved around to see Robbie's face. Beads of sweat grew on Robbie's brow. Bill could feel his fingernails biting into his palms. He never considered himself violent. A feral nature began to demand that Bill injure Robbie, to avenge Joyce, for each mark and bruise. He stepped into a position to have a well-placed cheap shot at Robbie's still form, one punch in the mouth, just as a small goodbye. A hand grabbed his upper arm.

"Easy, Teach," Brady turned Bill with little effort. "I want to break his ass too. Maybe even cut his nuts off and make him eat them." The nuts snipping quip was much louder for Robbie's benefit.

Bill admitted, "That is an even a better idea than I had."

As he led Bill away from Robbie, Brady continued talking, "What your concubines are doing is fucking his mind over worse." Leaning to whisper into his ear, Brady shared a bit of knowledge. "We have drones surveying the truck yard." He pointed to the transport pad. "We'll get him to give us useful intel' on the compound. Then we'll flush his ass."

"Herr Jenkins," that was the second time Andres had addressed him that way. "Herr Altig has been up to a bit of mischief."

Bill paused, realizing Andres was waiting. He exaggerated inquiring, "And?"

"Oh, he in his haste to remove himself from responsibility actually has placed you in limbo as far as the Department of Extraction and Colony Operations is concerned." The grin on Andres' face scared Bill. "What that does is give you a unique opportunity."

"What opportunity?"

"I'll explain." Bill understood men like Andres, ones who never had been in a classroom but knew what was best to do. "Humanity is being used to fight this war for the Confederacy."

Interrupting, Bill reminded him, "Andres, that is common knowledge."

"Okay, the short form. I will sum up." Andres took a breath. "The galaxy runs on trade. This is the deep dark secret. Right now, humanity can supply troops. Once the Swarm threat is abated, what do we have as a commodity?" Andres paused, having no reply he continued. "For some of the very stagnant races in the Confederacy, created objects are more precious than replicated ones. Natural fibers are almost priceless. There is no real money as we understand it in the commerce, but it is an economy. What we humans see as the wonder of replicators these jaded races see as the ho-hum norm. Some of us have laid plans in case the Earth falls, to have a secure colony. It is called Wayward."

Bill could feel his throat constrict. "I really don't have much of a choice, do I?"

Andres smiled. Bill wanted to wipe it off his face using his feet.

"Two ships are leaving for Wayward in three days. They need an education system, and you're it."

"I'm supplying most of the student load." Andres cut his laugh short when Bill did not join him.

"Bill, calm down."

"I am calm, Andres, I'm not being restrained by Brady," this time Bill laughed, but not Andres.

"I can get you an elementary school teacher."

"Can I make a deal?"

"Maybe."

Darkness had set in. The energy of the thunderstorms had dissipated. The elder Korean couple waited in the lobby, with the fourteen-year-olds who did not want concubine status. Jacob Cargnally mentioned that his fourteenth birthday was tomorrow and he wanted to stay on Earth. Once this was verified, the AI declared that he was fourteen and, having no CAP score, he was required to stay. Two Marines grabbed Robbie under his forearms. He was unable to resist. Lifting him with little effort, they dragged him through a transport pad.