Chapter Twenty-three: Desperate Times, Desperate People

I would have thought there would be a tug-o-war between the interests of Centurion Matthews and Marshal Pope. As it developed, our missions all had a common core - rescue embattled humans. Some were to be Confederacy volunteers, others were for the EDF, and still others just because they needed to be saved.

Adversaries ranged among Earth Firsters, plain bad guys, and even inertia.

Missions one and two were virtually identical. Rachel and Cathleen had each served a turn as team leader, and both missions were successful.

In our roles as deputy US marshals, we were sent into the interdicted area to persuade two groups of survivalists to leave before hellfire rained down on their compounds. These groups were lucky the Sa'arm had not yet found them - others had not been.

Convincing stubborn folks was not easy. Their deep suspicion was only overcome by a squadron of Tomcats laying a ridge of napalm a half mile away and my ladies' sweet-talking offer of perfect health and a chance to fight the Swarm. Both situations turned dicey when the groups found that they were being evacuated by transporters, but Rachel convinced them when she explained that the transporters were on loan from the Confederacy to help facilitate the fight now on Earth.

Then, we were on our third mission since joining the Confederacy, and it was my turn to lead.

We were in a small town technically inside the no-man's-land established as the next buffer to contain any Sa'arm breaking out of the hell now dubbed 'Dante's Inferno.' Earlier, we used a drone to drop a small transporter and used it to slip behind an unoccupied home. Now, the overcast and lack of a moon made it pitch black. Power was out in this area, and were it not for our night vision goggles and our Confederacy enhanced vision, we would have been almost blind.

My ladies and I were waiting in the lee of a building across the parking lot from the town's small community center. We counted five men and women entering over the last half hour and expected three more.

The group was only half the situation. Our intelligence indicated that three sponsors and their pre-packs were prisoners locked in the basement. Motives weren't clear, and we were again present in our roles as deputies to free the prisoners, find out why they were being held, and arrest their captors. A pickup of the sponsors might be a side bonus.

The assembling group wasn't composed of known members of any Earth First organization. Our informant said that the prisoners were unharmed and reasonably well treated. It was just strange - but then again, these were strange times.

I checked with Dora, who was monitoring the inside of the community center. She was using a pair of drones and assorted monitoring devices brought in throughout the day's routine activities. The assembled group was sitting in a circle talking quietly - the room lit by LED torches. The door opened, and the tardy three entered and greeted those present.

Another anomaly. According to Dora, there wasn't a weapon among them. The group appeared to be waiting in anticipation. Our informant had not been able to provide any clue on what we should expect. We were on our own.

Deciding to be a little stupid - sorta like being a little dead - I sent Rachel and Cathleen around to the rear door. Then Hannah and I calmly walked through the front door and announced, "US marshals, you are under arrest for kidnapping."

Before I could utter another word, the four women burst into tears, one of them wailing, "Oh no! It wasn't supposed to be you. Everything's ruined."

It wasn't my proudest moment. Totally at a loss for words, I stood with my mouth hanging open, watching the men trying to comfort the weeping women while leaking tears themselves.

Hannah reacted, stepped forward, and demanded, "Somebody want to tell us what's going on?!"

The clear command coming from that petite package got attention, but there was a pause before two of the men started speaking at once. That led to more confusion until they sorted themselves out. By this time, the rest of our team was standing in the rear of the hall as confused (make that as interested) as I was.

Confusion escalated when a voice chimed in from a side door. "May we join the party?"

"Why the heck not?!" and several adults and assorted children oozed into the room and sorted themselves into three groups. There were plenty of chairs, and the new arrivals were soon seated.

My ladies and I remained outside each other's line of fire, but unless there was a suicide bomb, it was reasonably clear that violence wasn't the goal here.

"You!" Hannah pointed. "Start over and tell us what's going on." She was doing just fine, and the rest of us were NOT going to jump in.

A tall, lean man stood and started - indicating the initial eight, "our families were picked up last week, and we were left alone. We understand the rules of a pickup, but we miss our families, especially our kids."

He sighed, "We know that the Confederacy is trying to circumvent Earth First and thought that we might find a way to negotiate contact with our families if we faked the kidnapping of a group of sponsors. Looks like we had a chance, except we got marshals instead of marines."

"Are you telling me this is all a hoax?" asked a stunned Hannah.

All the adult heads in the room nodded.

I looked at the three new groups. "And you went along with this nutty stunt?"

They nodded, and a dark haired woman spoke, "First, they are all our friends, and we wanted to help if we could. Second, the chances of our happening into a pickup got even remoter once we missed the one that occurred in this area." She sighed. "Sorry to have bothered you ... ."

"How did you folks come up with such a harebrained scheme? Just as important, how did you get it rolling so fast?" chimed in Rachel.

The woman looked around at her and explained. "When the pickup happened, we three sponsors were out of town picking up our college kids. After the landing, college didn't seem that important anymore. We returned to find our friends sitting around here in misery. The plan just sorta developed ... ."

One of the original group added. "Bessie over in the next town is a known gossip, so I 'happened' to mention after Church that we were upset at being left and had taken some sponsors captive - and that we were going to meet this evening to decide what we were going to do with them. Looks like it would have worked; only the word got to the wrong people."

I began handing out PDA-shaped objects. "Pass these out and look at them closely." I stated. "Everyone, even the kids."

As they followed my instructions, there were a few startled sounds as nanites were injected, then the room quieted for several minutes. I collected the 'PDAs' and waited for the group to come alert again. "You are not to discuss what you are about to hear with anyone not present. Further, you are not to discuss your little ruse and its results. If you try, you will suffer violent stomach pains. Understood?"

Blank looks, head shakes, one or two light bulbs starting to glow. Babble ensued.

"Quiet!" I demanded. "This is now officially a pickup." Utter silence.

"Before we get under way, let me explain the reasons you are to remain silent. First, we don't want the idea spread that the Confederacy might be duped. The next attempt might not be this harmless." I continued, "Second, my team could be in extreme danger if it became known that we are both US marshals and Confederacy agents.

"I have a birthday party to attend later tonight, so let's get this show on the road. You three sponsors come forward with all your CAP cards. Do any of you want a reader to check the scores of your pre-pack? I highly recommend it."

All shook their heads 'no.' Oh well, I tried.

"Do you volunteer to join the Confederacy? If so, state your name and say 'I volunteer.' " Three affirmatives.

"If these are your pre-packs, state the names of the adults and say that you want them to accompany you as concubines. Also state if you wish to bring along their dependents." There was a joyous cacophony of names and 'yeses.'

Each of my ladies positioned herself in front of a pre-pack, and explained that accepting the offered sponsorship was the same as slavery - sexual and in all other matters. There would be no turning back once we departed. If they wished to accept, they were to get naked, state their names and the name of their sponsor, and declare 'I accept.'

Clothes hit the floor before the final 'accept' faded.

Maybe not strictly to code, but Dora chimed through one of the drones. "Done and witnessed."

I placed a transporter pad on the floor and motioned to the happy groups. "Okay folks, step through one at a time, then step out of the way when you arrive. You don't want someone stepping on you. Marines will be there to guide you on."

I watched them exit, then turned to the remaining eight. "What to do with you miscreants?" I started. "Bring me your CAP cards." One by one I ran them through the scanner.

None of the scores were bad, and none of the subs were either. Two were close to sponsor scores, but close only counts in horseshoes, hand grenades, and nuclear warfare. Still ... .

"Any of you have military experience?" Gloomy looks. "Engineers? Mechanics? Teachers?" Three hands up at that last.

"Okay, here's what I can offer you. I can turn you loose or take you with me. If you go with me and wish, you can join the pool of unassigned concubines. If you are chosen and you accept sponsorship - fine - your new sponsor owns you. Men, you don't stand much of a chance to be chosen.

"If you are not sponsored within seven days, men will be returned to Earth where they may join the EDF or pursue other activities. Women have those choices and one other. You may continue in the unassigned pool, but with a difference. During your initial seven days, men and women will all have the right to engage in or refuse sex - past the seven days, you have no right to refuse any sponsor desiring sex.

"One point I strongly emphasize. You _will not_ engage in any shenanigans like tonight in an attempt to contact or see your former family! That will almost certainly get you killed. On your behalf, I will respectfully request permission from their sponsors so that you can speak or visit with them. BUT, permission is solely up to the sponsor and may not be granted. Do you understand and agree?! Answer now!" Eight 'yeses.' "Any questions?" Silence.

"For those who join me, I will request a retest of your CAP. There is a slight chance that all this will increase someone's score enough to volunteer, but don't count on it. So, who's coming and who's staying?"

<Dora, alert the marines that we'll be bringing through more in addition to the three planned sponsors with pre-packs. Make sure they understand there is no indication of violence. Also alert Centurion Matthews that we've taken a few liberties with our mission parameters. Might as well let him know that it's a total of eight liberties.>

Rachel lead the parade through the transporter to the moon, and I brought up the rear. I stepped through to be surrounded by a cheering crowd of sponsors, concubines, and children. It seems my darling Carole and Dora colluded to contact everyone that had been picked up the previous week from my new charges' town. So much for keeping that escapade quiet.

I kissed Carole soundly, gave her charge of the Confederacy's newest concubines to get settled, and led my team to our quarters to get clean and fed.

An hour later, Centurion Matthews appeared and sat across from my sofa with his favorite brew. He was soon joined by his twins, and Chica was in his lap. My ladies and I were cuddled up with Pixie on my lap and Baby purring on Cathleen's. Matthews had already developed the habit of dropping over to our pod for mission briefings and debriefings instead of summoning us to his office. It was very rare for any of my team to miss these meetings, and I think he just enjoyed the easy flow of information and ideas among us.

He started in, "First, I'm very happy with the outcome of the mission. Carole's icing on the cake provided a much needed boost to morale. Dora, if you had a back, I would pat it.

"But, there is a big but," he continued. "I'm truly pissed at the risk you took stepping into that room with your whole team before you were sure it was secure. You will NOT risk yourselves like that again. Understood?"

We assured him we understood the risk, and that we would be more cautious in the future. Matthews nodded and let us move on.

"Boss, we've been talking about something that bothers us, and not the way you are going to think when we roll it out." This time is was Rachel in the role of team leader.

He grinned. I think he also appreciated the way we swapped the leadership role from mission to mission. Hey, it worked, and it meant that when a mission went south, there were experienced, highly competent, replacement leaders to step in for an injured or absent mission leader. _We_ knew who the current boss was, and that was what mattered.

"These three missions brought our attention to a real waste. We've heard of local commanders rounding up Earth Firsters and shipping them to the front with no weapons. We have no issue with summary execution for murder, rape, and the like, but feeding the Swarm is stupid.

"We propose that these idiots be armed and given at least some training before sending them forward." She held up her hand as the centurion started to object. "Please hear me out, then poke holes.

"While stupidity usually isn't fixable, ignorance often is. What if we equipped these new recruits with modified concubine collars that would explode if they moved out of their authorized areas or pointed a weapon at anything other than a Dickhead. The AIs could monitor them and inform a duty NCO or officer of any trouble brewing."

Matthews settled back with a thoughtful look.

"They could be assigned to support conventional fighters, or even as cannon fodder. Then if any survive, they could be reevaluated for sponsorship. Who knows, some might make it. Rapists, murderers, and the like would surely fail the cut, so no issues there. Feedback?"

"You make an interesting case," he responded. "I'll take it forward. At the very least, it makes no sense to burn hundreds of square miles to deny the Sa'arm food, then send them Firsters on the hoof."

It was shortly after midnight, and today was Patricia's Birthday. She and Carley were dressed in baby doll nighties, waiting together to give me their restored virginity before Patricia went off to take her first CAP test. In just a short time she had matured into a confident, even lovelier, young lady. I fully expected her score to be high enough to volunteer. It appeared I was going to have yet another wife.

Characters:

*Michael James* – 28 years old, former captain US Army signal corps, bum left knee, brown curly hair, 6' 0"

*Rachel Smythe* – 27 years old, physics teacher, long dark hair, brown eyes, olive skin tone, 5' 10", slim, left handed. Army Brat.

*Jack Smythe* – Rachel's dead husband

*Sheriff Reynolds* – Local Sheriff that deputized Michael.

*Marshal Pope* – US marshal that deputized Michael and his team.

*Cathleen Cassidy* – 25 years old, nurse, long red hair, green eyes, paper white skin, curvy, 5' 4"

*Ron and Steve* – two Chadron State College students

*Rusty Naile* – Cherry County Sheriff (office in Valentine, Nebraska)

*Hannah (Pixie) Masters* – 16 years old, farm girl, bow hunter, blonde, long braids, slim, incredibly beautiful, 5' 0"

*Jimmy Wilson* - Hannah's high school friend who lived north of her. Also her first lover.

*Rudy, Pete* – Some of the thug gang - the ambushers. Pete is the leader.

*Dutch, Mikie, Sam, Arnie, Spud* – Thug gang left at the hideout.

*Carole Wilson* – 34 years old, thug's captive, plain face, voluptuous body, short brown hair, survivor type, mother of two, owns and runs a pre-school/daycare center in Valentine.

*Naomi Windsong* – 14 years old, Petite, Native American, aspiring social worker, one of the rescued captive women.

*Yasmin Mittal* – 26 years old, East Indian descent, born in USA, second grade teacher, slim, 5' 4", one of the rescued captive women.

*Amanda (Mandy) Hirsch* – 27 years old, Swedish/German descent, farm wife, mother of two pre-school children, pale with white blonde hair in a pageboy cut, one of the rescued captive women.

*Daniela (Danni) Noel Boone* – 30 years old, black, coiled braids, 5' 10, CPA and management consultant, one of the rescued captive women.

*Carley Hamilton* – 14 years old, newly orphaned, Patricia's sister, strawberry blonde cut short, 5' 9", one of the rescued captive women.

*Patricia Hamilton* – 13 years old, newly orphaned, Carley's sister, curly auburn hair, freckles, 5' 2", startlingly blue eyes, slightly pudgy with a developing figure, one of the rescued captive women.

*Elizabeth (Lizzy) McDonald* – 30 years old, buzz cut black hair, 5' 5", very curvy, special education teacher, one of the rescued captive women.

*Wilhelma (Billie) Schwartz* – 21 years old, classic blonde buxom German beauty, 5' 8", total nerd computer science major, newly graduated with a 5-year MS, one of the rescued captive women.

*Birdie Williams* – 21 years old, shoulder length auburn hair, 6' 0", slim, perky breasts, newly graduated 5-year MS in mechanical engineering, one of the rescued captive women.

*Suni (Sunny) Kim* – 28 years old, Korean descent, nurse on the bus that picked up the refugees, friend of Cathleen from her working days.

*Valerie Wilson* – 13 years old, Carole's daughter, just filling out, brown hair.

*Peter Wilson* – 12 years old, Carole's son, thin, bookish, gamer, cropped fiery red hair.

*Centurion Sam Matthews* - Civil Service , becomes Michael's boss upon extraction (thanks Medik for the loan of your characters.)

*Yukon (Ko) and Suzuki (Ki)* - Civil Service, Centurion Matthews' co-sponsors, (not named in this story,) similarly dressed, young looking, slender, Asian.

Chichi (Chica) - Centurion Matthews' concubine, Aztec warrior, medic, and mother of some of his children.

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