Chapter 17

To our delight, this time our accommodation was on level D. We had three adjacent apartments, one of which, we were delighted to discover, was one of only three on that level that had an external window looking out onto the surface. Everyone crowded around it, looking out, the airless lunar surface just feet away from us. To protect our eyes, the window was permanently shaded from the sun's rays, but the upside of that was that we would always be able to see the stars. They were brighter and sharper than we had ever seen them from the Black Mountains. And even in just the small strip of sky we could see, there were many more of them. So many in fact, it was impossible to identify any constellations, even when we knew we were looking in the right direction. It was a stunningly beautiful and amazing view. We already knew sex in a one sixth G was not that exciting, but we soon found that sex in front of that window, looking out onto the lunar surface just feet from us, really was very special.

I quickly identified our main accommodation on Daedalus, but since that was below ground, this time most of my concubines actually wanted to stay at Lipskiy when they could. Roger's own work as a CS officer was split between Lipskiy and Daedalus, and occasionally even some of the other moon bases.

To my delight, when I reported to personnel, room A2W again, I found Percy Meers, now a major.

"Welcome home. Bad news first. You are directly reporting to Lieutenant Colonel Wilkerson."

"Oh shit." Even though I knew what Percy had told me about Wilkerson being a good guy really, someone you wanted on your side, I was still nervous about the guy. "Do you know what for?"

"Yes," he gave me a funny looking smile, "and I'm a bit envious 'cos I wanted that job." I knew instantly he was just teasing me.

"Oh, sorry," I gave a half laugh.

"Oh don't worry, it's a gonna be a flamin' hard job. You're gonna be workin' your nuts off, and you are not gonna be safe too often. Potentially it could be quite dangerous."

"Oh?"

"I only know the overview. Wilkerson will give you the project details, and tell you your role."

"If Wilkerson was the bad news, what's the good?"

"You get a promotion." He stuck out his hand. "Congratulations. You are now Major Carter."

I was too surprised to do anything but shake his hand. "Uh. Why? What have I done to deserve that?" I asked once I had gathered my scattered thoughts.

"Well, first off you had glowing reports from Major Thornby on Mars."

"I did?" I was even more surprised now. In the time I'd been on Mars, I think I'd spoken to Thornby maybe half a dozen times.

He nodded. "That 'little' extraction project from Buckingham palace helped us both, helped to get me this job as well. Second, Andres Zucher put in a good word for you, he was impressed with the way you came across on that little fracas with The King Of Clubs conspiricy."

"But I didn't do anything. Just went to that one meeting, and kept an eye open for any signs. I think that young lad of his did at least as much." Meers frowned. I shook my head. "I fell into it accidentally. I was looking into that new add-on for the replicators."

Meer's face cleared. "Ah yes." He grinned. "That was fun. Tweaking the nose of DARPA. Anyway, that, didn't hurt your cause at all. And third, Wilkerson now reports, indirectly, to General Maggor, and Maggor wanted you back. He and I and Wilkerson all think you did a good job on the Buckingham Palace extraction, even though you were rather late to the party." He grinned at my startled look.

I frowned, thinking back to what Steven Harper had said to me on our first meeting back on Mars. "Did Wilkerson know about the extraction?"

"Of course. He was one of only about six non-Brits who knew about it almost from the start."

"Ah right." I gave a little shake of my head. "Somehow my boss on Mars knew about it when I got there."

"Well of course he would. That was after the event, and as your new CO, he would know the basic details of everything you have done, even if he didn't know anything more."

"Yeah, but he assumed Wilkerson didn't know."

"Wilkerson had to know. As head of personnel on Lipskiy, he would know the outline of every such project running. In any case, he found you for us, and he helped us to get the troops for the actual extraction itself."

"I thought you did that bit?"

"Nah, I just planned it. Worked out the numbers and the disposition. Wilkerson found the people, arranged with extraction to get the number of teams we needed. Today, I would do what Wilkerson did."

I nodded. "Okay."

He laughed. "Anyway. This new role of yours is far more suited to you than to me, I'm not a field person. I'm very much a desk jockey. Because of what you might be doing, and who you might be talking to, you know: politicians, you're gonna need the extra rank, just to help smooth the way. But I'll let Wilkerson tell you what you need to know. Initially you'll have three people reporting directly to you, but that will increase as you get yourself sorted."

"Does that include my sister?"

Percy looked confused for a moment, then looked at his notes again. "Is Lance-Corporal S. Carter your sister?"

"Yeah."

"Ahhhh. That explains ... I hadn't spotted ... hadn't realised she was a 'she' not a 'he'. I don't think I actually met her when she was on the moon, but she was working briefly for Priscilla," I frowned in thought, trying to think who he meant, before remembering Priscilla Percy. "She mentioned her once or twice. I never connected you though. I should have done. In that case, yes, in addition to. She's your adjutant stroke secretary stroke personal assistant. So yes, she reports to you. You have three other direct reports, plus you have a marine platoon attached to you, plus your assistant. However," he paused and grinned. "I like giving people this sort of news: you both now get three days leave."

I laughed and he looked at me with a pleased smile. "Go to Earth. Not Britain though. You'll understand why if you can get hold of any newspapers that are covering Britain from the outside. Go to New York or somewhere like that. In fact, treat the getting of news about Britain as research for your next role. You have to report to Wilkerson at nine AM in three days time. That's a little over sixty hours. Corporal Carter is to report to me at that time and I'll direct her straight to you about an hour later.

I nodded. "Thank you sir."

He gave soft chuckle. "Not any more. We're both of equal rank now."

"Oh yeah." I laughed briefly, "I'm looking forwards to the increase in salary," I added with a sardonic laugh.

It was his turn to smile. We both knew we didn't get paid. Almost everything we could possibly need was available through a replicator, and a lot more besides.

"Okay, off you go. Have fun." He sobered. "Is your sister also your, er, partner?"

My smile vanished as fast as his had. "If you mean what I think you mean, then yes."

"In that case, while you're on Earth, either refrain, or introduce her as your wife. Better still, do both. And go in civvies. As neither of you are combat troops, you've not had that physical size bulking, so you shouldn't be recognised as Confederacy. But just be careful. Don't let anyone who doesn't need to, find out who you are."

I nodded. It was what Lieutenant Percy had told me a couple of years earlier. "Okay, thanks." I would have gone in civvies anyway. "Can you authorise us some money please?"

He tapped something into his PDA. "You've been authorised to take one thousand dollars each. Just take it from the replicator when you get back to your room. If you want a different currency, just change it on Earth. Anything left over, just put it back into the replicator when you get home."

I nodded my understanding. "Thank you." The AI, through the replicators, acted as our bank. Except that money couldn't just be withdraw without explicit authorisation.

"Oh and souvenirs are always welcome," he called after me as I left the room.

I laughed. I liked Percy. He'd jokingly complained a couple of times during the extraction project about the distinct dearth of decent beers. I would see what I could do for him.

Siân was definitely up for a trip to New York. We were working on GMT, five hours ahead of New York, so it was still the early hours of the morning there. We had just over three hours to kill before we left. There was not much point in arriving before or during the morning rush hour, so Siân spent some of that time in the sleep trainer learning about the place: where to go, where to eat, what to see, where even to avoid. I just got a city map from the replicator, and a list of hotels and restaurants from the AI. I half wished I could talk to Hank, who would have been able to point me to things only a local could.

Instead, I called Matt Harding.

"Oh. Hello," he said we I finally got in touch with him via the internal comms system. "What are you doing back here?"

"Bad behaviour?" I laughed.

His forced answering smile showed no amusement.

"I've got to shoot off again shortly, fancy a quick coffee in the mess hall?"

He agreed, and five minutes later we were sitting comfortably, looking out of the window, cups of very good coffee in our hands.

"Slightly different to the view from my apartment," I said idly.

Matt looked startled. "You have a room on C?"

I shook my head. "D. D5S."

The look he gave me made me shiver, yet I couldn't identify the emotion behind it. He didn't like that I had one of the few apartments with an outside view. I wondered why, but didn't say anything. He was based permanently in Daedalus, where there were no external views, so it shouldn't have affected him at all.

"You still in the same pool office?" I asked casually.

"Yes. I'm still in charge." Indirectly that told me he was still a commander.

"How often do you get out into a project?"

"I don't. You can't have the person in charge of a pool being posted away from it, even temporarily."

"Oh no, oh I'm sorry."

He shrugged, but I could see he was hiding something. "I've only just heard about a role that came up a week or so ago. I've applied for it, and when I get it, it'll mean a promotion."

"Oh brill. Doing what?"

"Not sure exactly. Not the details anyway. It will mean I'd get to go to Earth quite regularly though."

"When will you find out?"

"Next day or two I expect."

"Well I hope you get it. Be a move up for you."

He nodded. "Oh I'll get it. There's no one on Lipskiy who could do it. Percival Meers might, but he's not long moved to personnel, and in any case, for lots of reasons, he's not suitable." I heard spite in his words and was surprised.

"Oh?" I looked at Matt. I was just starting to wonder about him now.

Matt just shook his head. "So what are you doing now?"

"Haven't found out yet. Got a couple of days leave, then got to report for work. Guess I'll find out then."

"Uh huh. Well when I get this role, I'll give you a call. I don't mind you working for me."

"Oh, okay, thank you." I was slightly startled and taken aback at his words. In one sense the sentiment seemed fine: that he liked my work and wanted me on his team; but in another it almost sounded like he wanted me to be reporting to him. To be below him. It was that second meaning that came across to me most strongly. I just nodded neutrally.

I told him some of the things I'd got up to on Mars. Not much of course because, like on Lipskiy, the work was all sensitive. I told him about Melissa, not that he'd ever met her of course, but all he did was shrug unconcernedly. "If she was stupid enough not to get pregnant when she could," he added, but didn't finish the sentence. He showed no sympathy, indeed, seemed to think it surprising that I did.

When I told him about Huw 'graduating', he just nodded, he even managed to look a little irritated, almost as if he didn't approve of slaves graduating into sponsors. To my surprise, I found myself not telling him about my promotion, and I didn't tell him where I was going for my leave, nor who I would be working for. And I certainly didn't tell him about my brief trip to Earth and the Moon nearly two years earlier. Some of the repercussions from the attack on Sir Samuel, were still rumbling round the system; and lots of rumours, half-truths, and just plain, good old fashioned myths, falsehoods and lies were still doing the rounds. I strongly felt I didn't want too many people, including Matt, to know I had played even a tiny part in it, nor that my sister had played a marginally bigger part.

Eventually Matt looked at his watch. "Got to get back. Don't trust those muppets to do their work unsupervised for long."

I nodded and headed back to my apartment, deep in thought. I needed to talk to Percy again, but there was no time now.

Back on Earth, Siân and I didn't refrain, but we were discreet. Somehow, to both of us, it felt different making love on Earth. After so long away from here we were desperate to see what the changes were. Oh we had got news from Earth, but that wasn't the same as seeing it with our own eyes. We were shocked, but managed not to show it. We stayed two nights in a very nice hotel not that far from Broadway, not too cheap, but not so expensive that we couldn't afford to do anything else.

We spent a lot of the first two days sightseeing. Siân, of course, wanted to go shopping in some of the well-known stores: after Macy's, Bloomingdale's and Saks I sort of lost track. We went to good restaurants on both evenings and then briefly onto a nightclub before finally heading back to our hotel, and some wonderful loving. I didn't know whether it would be allowed, but if it was, I knew that at some point I was going to have to do this for Branny and Stacy at very least and maybe even for Imogen and some of the others. Siân even made a point of telling me so.

The final morning was spent souvenir hunting, before making our way back to the heavily protected Confederacy offices not far from the headquarters of the New York Police Department. We had spent a lot of both evenings, after we had eaten out, making love. Siân was a little bit sad that she was already pregnant, and couldn't have got pregnant there. I made her a promise that if I could in the future, I would bring her somewhere special like this, just to get her pregnant.

I'd picked up copies of every newspaper I could find, and between us we'd bought a number of souvenirs for the rest of the family, plus a few bottles of good wine to share between us all. Spirits were absolutely not allowed on Lipskiy, but small quantities of beer and wine now and again was overlooked, so we took advantage of it. There wasn't much left out of the money we'd been authorised. I'd got Percy half a dozen bottles of different micro brew beers. I'd found them a bit light when I'd tried them, more like lager than a proper British bitter. I hoped he might like them as he'd told me he preferred IPA's to the dark bitters. He did, and was properly grateful.

"Percy?" I asked after he had taken his first deep swig of beer.

"Uh huh? Oooh that's good," he added with a grin. "That's as good as any proper British India Pale Ale."

I laughed. "Er, have you come across Matt Harding? Commander Matt Harding?"

The pleasure on his face dimmed noticeably. "I have. I know you were in his pool office when you were first posted here. That was pure chance. There was no malicious intent in it."

"Huh?"

Percy gave a wry smile. "Matt Harding is not nearly as good as he thinks he is. Half the little turf wars around here are caused, or at least exacerbated by him." He looked at me speculatively. "Are you friends with him?"

"Well," I said slowly. "I thought so at one point. I was talking to him just before I went on leave. Did he apply for the job I'll be doing?"

Percy's eyebrows crawled rapidly up his forehead. "Wow. That was a leap. Yes. He never had any chance, and he was probably the only person who didn't know that. As soon as that job came up, everyone who had a say knew it was yours."

"Who had a say?"

"I did. In a way I would have liked the job, but I knew I couldn't do it."

"And you can't tell me what the job is?"

Percy gave a soft smile, looking at his bottle of beer. "Jobsworth," he said.

I laughed. "Okay." It was his way of saying he would get into a lot of trouble if he told me. "So who else had a say?"

"John Maggor. He's a Major-General now, and he's going places. The extraction put him, and me and you and all the team, on the map. He was noticed. We all were. Someone gave him this new task, and he devolved it down to this base. He had Wilkerson promoted and put in overall charge, and then suggested you to actually run ... the important part." He grinned, and I knew he had almost told me too much.

I chuckled. "Oh wow. And Wilkerson agreed?"

"Yep." His smile was as broad as ever. "Even Andres Zucher agreed you'd be good for the job."

"Wow."

Percy stuck out his hand. "You will thoroughly enjoy your new job, I think, and I think you'll do it well. Don't let us down."

"Thank you sir, I won't." I shook his hand firmly.

He laughed again, took another deep swig of his beer, and headed back to his apartment carrying the remaining five bottles tenderly. It was only as I got onto the transporter that I realised Percy had laughed because I'd called him 'sir' again. I chuckled gently to myself, remembering when I'd done it to Priscilla Percy as well. That made me laugh even more. What was it with the name Percy?

Lieutenant Colonel Wilkerson, when he saw me the following morning, just stared for a moment.

"Major Carter reporting for duty sir."

"Oh yes. Lootenant Carter. I remember you. I don't want you. I don't need you. You are a waste of space and of my valuable time. But General Maggor seems to think you are the bees knees, and Andres Zucher seems to have the hots for you, so I have to use you."

"Sir."

He gave me a malicious grin that for the first time in my experience contained genuine humour in it. I was a bit startled at the seeming contradiction. "Your job," he paused and waved at a chair. "Fuck's sake, sit. You're makin' the place look untidy." He waited until I'd sat in the indicated chair, and then continued. "Your job, Major, is to interdict, disrupt, and generally make life a nuisance for any and all Earth Firsters. Particularly those that are goin' to make trouble for the Confederacy. Understand?"

"Er. I think so, sir." I wasn't sure I totally understood, but I was damned sure I could find out, and quick enough for Wilkerson not to know I was, at this stage, bluffing. "Where? What limitations?"

"Limitations? You have to work with the locals. You have to ensure that under no circumstances does the Confederacy get dragged into a war, even a silly little firefight. We are to be kept out, and kept clear. Anonymous. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now. Your beat as it were. Stay out of North America. Stay away from anywhere Panama and north. You go there and I'll have your guts. That's the important bit, I don't want you queering it up. The rest is up to you. Except. Stay away from Russia. For the moment anyway. South America, Africa and much of South East Asia are pretty much a waste of space, but you might get lucky. You can try Japan though, if you like your fish raw. The Middle-East is just so much radioactive fallout, so stay away from there unless you fancy your face melting off. Otherwise, I don't much care where you go. Just stay away from the important bits. Panama and anywhere north. Got that?"

"Yes sir." I would later discover that officially my remit covered the whole world. In practice however, I stuck to Wilkerson's guidelines where it concerned North America, and elsewhere concentrated initially on the old British Commonwealth, and on Europe. Eventually, as I got more staff and more experience and understanding, I did allow myself to include most of the rest of the world as well. I even poked my nose into the US and Canada when it became necessary, and since I never had that particular appendage chopped off, I was obviously doing something right.

"Good. For now you have three people working for you, plus you have call on a Confederacy Marine platoon if you need it. If you do need it though, and it's to extract you from a sticky situation, don't bother them or me; just die and save us both the trouble of me kicking you out through the airlock. Got that?"

"Yes sir."

"You need to do something about Britain and Australia: they've banned us, so you need to be discreet."

He spent nearly ten minutes giving me a surprisingly complete picture of what was happening on Earth, and where the particular hot-spots were that the Confederacy were interested in, or were keeping away from.

Eventually he wound up the short briefing. "I want weekly summaries of your work. Summaries, not essays. Your team is waiting for you in A14S, your new researcher will be joining you shortly." He turned to his papers and waved my dismissal.

"Yes sir. Thank you sir. And congratulations on your promotion sir."

"Don't ass-lick," was his only comment, but I heard amusement in his voice, and I was sure I saw a hint of a smile on his face as I turned away.

14S was an outside project room, so we had external windows facing Daedalus base. Unlike from the mess hall on level C, or my own room on level D, here the view was much clearer, though it was still only comms antennae that could be seen.

I was introduced to my team. Ensign Simon Pierra, a forty-year-old Londoner whose grandfather had been Portuguese; Private Sharon Taylor, a ninteen-year-old beauty from Gary, Indiana and Private Theodore Ung, thirty-one, originally from rural Kenya, but actually collected in Stratford-Upon-Avon where he had been performing with the Royal Shakespeare Theatre Company.

Theo, always the actor and comedian, kept us laughing for years, his jet black skin and brilliant white teeth could look both fearsome and cuddly. The youngsters, when they met him, adored him; and more than one of my concubines wanted his baby. He was definitely the morale leader in the team.

Sharon had had the nickname Professor, later shortened to Prof, from the time she was about seven years old. She had a mind chock full of mostly useless trivia, and an amazing ability to connect seemingly unrelated trivia. It was this trivia, she told us, that had got her her nickname, and her linking ability, I found out, that had got her onto the team.

Simon was our languages expert, speaking nineteen European languages fluently, lots of others to varying degrees, plus bits of Arabic, Hebrew, Mandarin, and a smattering of some of the Indian subcontinental languages, all of which he had picked up before he was collected by the Confederacy. To his chagrin, he didn't speak Welsh. In fact, of the Gaelic languages, the only one he did speak a little of was Breton. That deficiency, he told me with a grin, he would soon change.

Lieutenant Alasdair Thewliss, Australian, was the man in charge of my marine platoon. It was as natural as breathing to me to say leftenant, so when I did so, without even thinking he might prefer lootenant, he smiled and said thank you. His Platoon Sergeant was introduced as Willky Cribbens, a short, gruff, ex Parachute Regiment Staff Sergeant from Manchester. The rest of the platoon were not on Lipskiy base, but were on Artemis base, on the Earth side of the moon. About a third were from the US, the remainder from just about every other country in the world, it seemed, and as I was to later find out, only about a third of them had had the size increase that went with the Confederacy Marine 'Package'. Thewliss had, Cribbens hadn't.

"Hmm. There's not really any room for them here, and there's certainly nowhere here for them to train, but I think we should all be together," I mused. They both nodded their agreement. "All right, let me see what I can do."

For the moment though I decided the first thing to do was to learn about what was happening, and that meant talking to the team. However, I decided to wait until Siân got here as she would need to know all the information as well. The rest of the team agreed, so for the moment I just read what briefing notes I could get hold of. Siân joined us some fifteen minutes later and I introduced her to the team. She and Sharon, who was only a year older, quickly became good friends.

Our first meeting boiled down to a number of topics. How to identify EF cells. How to identify what risks each one posed, and to whom. How to identify and prioritise which ones needed to be dealt with first. How to target them. What to target them with; that is, did we do it, or did we find other pro-Confederacy people to do it for us. Within all our discussions however, we had to be aware of the stricture that the Confederacy had placed on us, that they needed to be kept as remote and anonymous as possible.

"We will need to go in there and get face to face with them sometimes," Wilky pointed out. "That means you need to be safe. That means you need to be able to defend yourselves."

"Your team," Alasdair told us, "will all need training in unarmed combat, primarily in how to defend yourselves. We," he indicated Wilky and himself, "have training in this area, and will keep it up, but for this role, even we need to be at the top of our game."

"I know someone I can ask about that," I said. "I'm damn sure she will know someone. She's almost certainly very highly skilled herself."

"Who?" Asked Alasdair.

"A Lieutenant Percy? Priscilla Percy?"

Alasdair frowned, shaking his head slowly. "Don't know her," he said thoughtfully.

I just nodded. "I'll see what she says."

Priscilla was in full agreement of what we would need, when I spoke to her later.

"I'll try and sort something out for you by lunchtime tomorrow. Meet me in training room seven on Artemis, twelve thirty tomorrow."

"Understood," I said, "and thank you."

"My own instructor," she told us the following afternoon, "is not immediately available. I'll be starting your training." She passed out to each of us a wooden 'knife'. "We'll start with training you to avoid getting yourself hurt or killed if you are attacked with a knife. Now," she pointed at me. "Attack me. Don't hold back. You won't hurt me."

I already knew her background, so I already knew that what she said was true. I hadn't told the others though. I lunged at her, and found myself face down on the floor. She'd simply not been where I'd thought she was, and I'd stumbled past her. I hardly felt the little tap that put me on my face.

She helped me up. "Now. Defend," she ordered. This time she came at me with the knife. I couldn't do what she had done, and ended up flat on my back, with the knife to my throat. "And your hand is cut to ribbons," she said. She looked up. "Even if he'd managed to get clear, his hand is now covered in blood, and very slippery."

She helped me up again. "That showed," she said looking around at the group. "Two common errors. Errors that everyone will do. Everyone, until it can be trained out of you. Do not," she said raising her voice, "Do not watch the knife. Watch the person. Do not go for the blade. Be out of the way, and knock it away."

She demonstrated again, slower this time, and then got us all to practice with each other. Despite what she'd told us, it still took us all time and practice to not go for the knife. When we'd all just about got it, she stopped us all.

"Watch." This time, as she pushed me past her, she tapped my elbow. "I've just broken, or at very least, dislocated his elbow," she told us. "And I didn't need to tap very hard, his elbow was already extended and at an awkward angle." She showed us all again, then told us to have a go ourselves. "Just tap the elbow," she told us, watching us all intently.

Sharon and Siân had paired up, as had Theo and I, but for the third exercise she changed it so that I was paired with Sharon, and Siân with Theo. She spoke very softly to the two girls, and even with my augmented hearing, I couldn't hear what she said. They came towards us with grins on their faces.

I squared off to defend against Sharon. She made a couple of feints towards me, and then, almost seemed to be going for my balls, for my crotch, I easily dodged it, but then found her knife at my throat. Next to us, Siân had been equally successful.

"Gentlemen," came Percy's slightly scornful voice. "Which is more important. Your life or your nuts? We have medical tubes. You should know by now that that's unlikely to be a killing stroke except by luck, so by definition it has to be a feint. Try again."

This time both Theo and I dodged the attacks easily. It was obvious when I thought about it, but it was still uncomfortable to see someone appear to go for my family jewels and ignore it. When she called Theo and I over, I expected her to tell us to go for the women's crotches.

"Go for their boobs," she whispered softly. "A feint, but they'll be expecting you to feint for their genitals. Don't. On the second attempt, they'll see the feint and ignore it, believing it to be a feint, and you go in for a heart stab. Understood?"

We both nodded and returned to our positions.

It happened exactly as Percy suggested it would. I went for Sharon's boobs, and like I had before, she dodged awkwardly, and left herself open for the knife to the throat.

"You know what's coming ladies. Gent's, go again."

This time I got Sharon in the stomach. She had realised, at the very last possible moment, that it wasn't a feint, and had managed to knock my arm. But she panicked and knocked it down, straight into her stomach.

Siân had managed to knock the knife to one side, but like Sharon, she'd panicked, and knocked it the wrong way. As a result, Theodore had body charged her, and she'd ended up with the knife in the small of her back.

"Ladies, ladies. What are you doing?" Came Percy's scornful voice. "Your boobs or your heart? This time it's different. Don't think boobs, think heart. If your attacker is going for your boobs, well you get cut, maybe, and we get you in a med tube. If he's gone for your heart it's much harder. We have just seconds to save you. End result, it doesn't really matter whether it's a feint at your boobs, or an attack direct at your heart, you still have to defend against it because you probably can't tell. When you get more proficient, you'll be able to tell a skilled attacker who's feinting, and an unskilled amateur who's trying to stab you in the heart. Go again."

"So how do we defend against it if it turns out to be a feint?" asked Sharon.

"You have two arms haven't you? You can push both ways can't you? Not easy just yet I grant. You're still only rank beginners; you will get better. Your lives may depend on it. Go again."

We spent another ten minutes sparring like this, before Percy called another halt. "We'd better do some falls," she said. "You'll hurt yourselves otherwise." I was already wincing after an awkward fall on my elbow.

For the next half-hour or so we learned to fall without hurting ourselves. We were all slightly breathless when she called the next halt.

"I'd like to introduce you to Mr Kobo," she said, beckoning forward an old man. We looked at him in astonishment. How the hell did he get to the moon, I wondered. More to the point, why? He appeared to be about seventy, his face wrinkled with age and slightly stooped. His head was mostly bald, but with a whisp of grey hair around the sides and back. He had bright, cheerful black eyes, and a huge grin.

"Hello," he said, nodding, then turned to Percy.

She nodded at me. "Attack him. Just remember rule one."

"Rule one?"

She just grinned at me. I could tell she was highly amused.

I was instantly suspicious. I watched him cautiously for a few seconds, but he made no move other than to follow me with his eyes. I went in for the attack, and found myself wondering why the wall had changed colour. It was the ceiling. I was on my back.

"Rule one," said Mr Kobo. "Do not act incautiously when confronting little bald wrinkly smiling men!" His smile grew even wider at my look of complete incomprehension."

"Do not act incautiously?" said Siân, "that doesn't make sense."

"It's a double negative," Sharon told her softly. "Two negatives always make a positive. Just like two positives always make a positive."

"Yeah, right," said Theodore sardonically.

I just looked at him and shook my head in despair at the bad pun. Even Percy was having to bite her lip. The two girls just stared at him.

"The first rule?" I asked Mr Kobo.

"One of the greatest authors in the English language," he said.

"Shakespeare? Joyce? Brontë? Shelley?" I tried to think of a few other classic authors I had covered in English literature classes at school. "Jules Verne? Dickens?"

He shook his head, a look of complete sadness on his face. "Pratchett. Terrence David John Pratchett."

"All right, that's enough," interrupted Percy. "Back here, same time tomorrow. Mr Kobo will be your instructor from now on." She turned to the old man and gave him a bow of respect. He bowed back, and then the two walked out, arm-in-arm, chatting and laughing.

"Holy fuck," said Theo. "I've always been a Pratchett fan. I should know that quote, but I don't. I'm gonna have to guess at 'Small Gods' or 'Thief of Time', but," he shook his head.

"Never heard of him," I said.

He stared at me. "You haven't? Really?"

"Nope."

"You are an incredibly uneducated young man," he told me haughtily. But there was a hint of a grin on his face. I decided not to be insulted, it would be too much hard work.

"Dismissed all," I said dryly. "See you back in the office in one hour, showered and fed."

We trained for about an hour a day, every day, for six weeks, until Mr Kobo graciously decided we only needed him once a week. He had primarily been teaching us defensive methods. Percy now took over the training, and started teaching us offensive hand to hand unarmed combat.

A month in, the new concubines we had been waiting for became available. Collections were starting to become much faster, bigger, and far more efficient. They regularly brought a large number of extra concubines. Siân, Roger and I travelled to Copernicus base a few times to check out the new arrivals, and over three separate visits finally got all the concubines we were still owed. Under Roger's guidance, we tried to get as many higher scoring concubines as we could, eventually coming home with three concubines with a six point something, four with greater than five point five, and none below five. We didn't even bother 'road testing' most of them. We decided we needed one more male, so that David would have another male concubine to support him. Siân and Roger made the final decision there, but they also consulted David. We also ended up with a lot of under-age children as well, to Imogen's delight.

Roger and I also spoke to the local CS representatives about Mars base, explaining the shortage there, and a few hundred were sent on to Mars. The CS office got a number of messages of thanks from Mars base, and Roger, whose idea it was in the first place, got a commendation from his superiors.

We came home with nine new concubines and because Roger was himself also still living with us, our three apartment residence now had a total of nineteen adults, of which four were men; and nearly fifty children aged from just a few months up to thirteen years old. We were almost a small village in our own right. It even seemed to be a profitable village as we kept getting 'presents' traded for special one-off designs from Branny.

Branwen's designs seemed to have become incredibly popular. She got a lot of one-off commisions: prints on canvass which people put on the walls of their own accomodation or office. 'Family' designs on the clothing of various concubines, even a couple of larger pieces used to decorate public areas in both Daedalus and Artemis bases. Most of her designs though were 'just' tee-shirt designs, worn by almost anybody, particularly when off duty. We traded them for food and clothing not yet available from the replicator, artwork from other artistically inclined concubines, even some of the latest film and music recordings also not yet available through the Confederacy AI's.

Once I finally got permission to relocate, but before we actually shifted, I went to see Budd Wilkerson.

"I know," he said even before I had opened my mouth. "Fine. Your call, your responsibility. Go away, go do your job."

"Yes sir. Thank you sir. That's not actually what I wanted to tell you."

He looked up and stared at me.

I quaked a little and straightened more to attention. "Er, sir, your reputation is that you hate non-Americans, and that you believe that only Americans from the 48 states should be extracted. Now I know, believe, that that's not actually true, but I've used it a few times to help me get what I want." I swallowed convulsively. "Unless you order me otherwise, I plan on carrying on doing so if it helps me get what I need, however I won't let it get out of hand, and I won't let it,"

"That's enough Major," he interrupted me coldly. "If you cause me genuine problems I will have your balls. Otherwise," he just left it hanging. Then he gave me a funny little smile in which I read genuine amusement, tinged with some maliciousness. "Your rep," he told me, "is that you plan on having the largest private harem on the moon, if not in this entire solar system." My eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his smile got wider and more malicious. Yet it still seemed to me that there was genuine humour in it.

"I was counting yesterday. You have eighteen concubines."

"Eighteen," I said, startled. "No sir."

He waved away my interruption. "No. I know. Two of those are sponsors, and at least four are concubines of those other sponsors. But, you all live in a single household, and the perception is entirely different to the reality. Still, it's interesting don't you think? And it's easy to see how people might view it. I have used that rep for my benefit once." His smile faded. "Don't let it get out of hand." He waved me away. I suddenly realised he was giving me permission to use his public reputation, but, as his final words said, I was not to let it get out of hand.

I nodded and left his office, feeling giddy with the relief of getting out of there in one piece. My knees felt weak and I realised I was sweating in the cool, air-conditioned, atmosphere of Lipskiy base. I made my way back to my apartment and informed the rest of the family of our impending move. Wilkerson, despite everything, was still a little scary.

On my walk back, I had pondered over the news of my own reputation. Siân would be eighteen in a few days' time, and had arranged to retake her CAP test. If, as expected, she got over seven, we would have two more concubines in the pod; and if Roger's plan, as he'd explained it to me months earlier, came off, given time we could have at least four more concubines on top of that. "Oh shit," I muttered. I could well see that some people might think I had twenty concubines, or more, to myself. I'd have to talk to Roger.

We couldn't come up with an obvious solution, and still stay together and only days later Siân got a seven point five, and an instant promotion to ensign. The first of those new concubines would soon be arriving.

"How did you get that job?" I was in the mess hall, getting a cup of coffee before heading up to start work. In a day or two we would be leaving Lipskiy, and I was just starting to get 'demob happy' as Roger had termed it a few days earlier.

"Huh?" I turned. Matt Harding was standing behind me, barely suppressed fury very evident on his face.

"That job? I only found out two days ago. How did you get it? You don't have the knowledge or the expertise. You don't have any of the right skills. Look at you, you're far too young. That's my job, and I intend to have it."

"What?" I was still startled at the sudden and unexpected verbal attack.

"You should not have had that promotion. You didn't deserve it. You were posted to Mars as punishment. You're a trouble-maker. Why you weren't posted earlier, heaven only knows."

"I was posted to Mars for training," I said calmly. My fingers were twitching, anger was starting to build in me, but I tried to stay calm, for the moment. I stared at him. I'd finally twigged something a few days earlier. I'd originally planned on letting the matter drop and not saying anything, but I couldn't control my rising anger, and instead I let him have it with both barrels.

"When I was working for you, you never once, not once, put up the training list on the office notice board. Why was that? You had a duty to ensure your staff got all the training and opportunities available, but instead you kept the notices and ensured we were kept in the dark. You, Commander," I said putting as much venom into his rank as I could manage, "have been promoted beyond your ability. Beyond your capability. That job was never yours, and even if it hadn't been mine, it would have been someone else's. You were never in the frame, and you were the only one who ever thought it might be. Now leave me alone."

I turned back to my coffee.

"I'll have you for this, Carter," he fumed. "You're a fraud, you don't deserve that rank, and you won't keep it. You'll see." He stormed off, leaving a couple of people staring after him, surprise written all over their faces. They hadn't heard what we had been saying, but they had seen Harding's fury.

I had, I was pretty certain, found the source of much of the trouble and discontent on Lipskiy. It wasn't Wilkerson, it probably never had been. Not directly anyway. It was Harding. I'd known Harding had wanted Wilkerson's job in personnel, and thinking about it now, I realised it would have given him almost unlimited power and influence. When Percy Meers had taken it over instead of him, he must have been furious. When I had worked for Harding, he had put a bad spin on anything Wilkerson had done or said, and I, in my naivety, had lapped it up. It wouldn't happen again. Wilkerson was no longer scary. Actually he was, but mostly he was hard, gruff, stern, rude, and very demanding; but he was just, honest, easily dislikable; and yet, in his own way, also actually quite likeable. That last I vowed never to tell him.

I mentioned Harding's words to Roger later that evening in our Lipskiy apartment. Most of our concubines were on Daedalus, so we had the apartment almost to ourselves.

"He's just jealous," said Roger with a frown. "Be careful, he genuinely could make trouble for you if he wanted."

"Could he? How?"

"If nothing else, by causing investigations, tribunals and delays of all sorts. Even if nothing ever came of them, they would cause you some grief. And you know the phrase about mud sticking." I nodded, feeling a touch despondent. "And if nothing else," Roger continued, "don't forget the one about no smoke without fire. People might start to believe he can smell the smoke, and that therefore there must be fire. In other words, people might start to believe what he says, or at least, believe there's something to be concerned about."

I nodded. "He can actually be very friendly and persuasive," I sighed. "Almost manipulative. So what do I do?"

Roger shrugged, shaking his head slowly. "To be honest, there's very little you can do. There were no witnesses to that little conversation were there?"

I shook my head. "None that would have heard us, no."

"Information," said the AI, startling us both. "The conversation in question was heard and recorded."

"There you go," said Dad with a smile after a moment's stunned silence.

"Thank you, AI. I could kiss you for that."

The AI's response sounded quite prim. "All conversations on Lipskiy are recorded for security purposes, including this one."

That shut both of us up for an even longer moment.

"But can those recordings be used in a military tribunal or hearing?" Roger eventually asked.

"Yes."

We looked at each other with a grin.

"If he does nothing, you do nothing," said Roger. "After all, in the heat of the moment, anyone can make threats they don't mean."

I grinned. "Agreed." I suddenly felt unaccountably happy and excited. Kimmee, who was just passing, found herself towed, unprotesting, to my bed, where I celebrated with some incredibly acrobatic sex. Roger laughed and went off to see Imogen.

Two days later, and seven weeks after arriving on the moon, the whole team, plus all our concubines, moved to the far more appropriate, far roomier and far more usable, comfortable and user-friendly base at Artemis, and we began our work proper.

Earth first: watch out.

The continuing adventures of Llewelyn Carter can be found in Maquis, coming soon.