Chapter 15

4 Section 62 -- Beth on the table

The Godwin women trailed in one at a time, mostly straight from the shower. Each one had to provide a blow-by-blow account of her recent fuck. There was much banter and laughter. Gibes and insults flew furiously, all in great fun. They also had to rave about each other's brand new bodies, to more laughter and joking.

Rob sensed an approaching coffee klatch and steered himself and Jack to the living room. They worked with the AI so they could watch a ball game without the commercials and with all of the slow parts at double speed. It did not take long before the AI had the right idea. The men settled back to enjoy the game.

Beth stumbled in last, simply glowing. She told them she had insisted on caveman treatment for the last go-round with Martin. It was the best sex she had ever had, she insisted, but warned that it was not for the faint hearted.

Sarah and Sandy brought the children down to be with them. Logan and Daniel thought themselves big boys and did not want motherly affection. They stayed with the men. They had too much energy to sit still for a ball game. They alternated racing around the room with sitting by their dads. Rob got the same treatment from Logan as Martin did: being sized up as a dad wannabe. Rob didn't mind. He got some attention from his own Daniel.

The smaller ones were content to crawl into a lap and listen. The women started teaching the children about the superabundance of moms. For little Morgan, it was a game of "Where's Mama Claire?" followed by a pointed finger in answer, and then "Where's Mama Erin?" and on and on.

For three-year-old Nathan and four-year-old Lily, Beth hit upon a fun little game. She stage-whispered, "Go climb into Mama Diane's lap, Lily. Whisper in her ear that apples are red." If that was successful, Diane would point her at another mama with a new secret. Emma got Nathan started with, "Nathan, go pat Mama Laura's big tummy." The two children loved the game. Soon, one or the other of them was racing around the table toward a new lap.

While this was going on, Claire more or less brought the women's business meeting to order. "Beth's bringing two babies into our family. Martin wants us to decide for ourselves how far apart to space the births, and a tentative batting order, if you will. Who has thoughts?"

"Beth sure has made the impregnation part very attractive," giggled Erin.

"I think," said Laura, "we should try now to make some sort of schedule that we can adhere to for the second and third rounds of our pregnancies. This is my first baby. I don't know whether I would have had another baby on Earth. If I did have another baby, I don't know what the spacing would be."

"The time distance between all of the kids here already is two or three years," said Emma. "But all of the kids were conceived on Earth. Concubines are supposed to make babies. Don't you think two or three years is too far apart?"

"Emma, births two years apart means fifteen months between birth and the next impregnation," Sandy pointed out. "Morgan is fourteen months old, for instance. If I got pregnant next month, those babies would be just about exactly two years younger than Morgan."

"Pregnancy is hard on your body," said Laura.

"A concubine's body is fully restored immediately after the birth," the AI interrupted.

"Well, being fully recovered is one thing," said Diane. "Being prepared to endure another pregnancy is quite another. I'm sure that, with Confederacy technology, a woman could be impregnated every nine and a half months or so. That's too much, carrying that baby is hard work!"

"Laura," chuckled Beth, "I think you touched a nerve. You're right, though. We should have a crack at a schedule that we can maybe keep up for three rounds each."

"Jeez," gasped Erin, "we already have five, soon six kids. Eight of us having twins adds sixteen more. Eight of us each having one baby twice adds sixteen more. What's that? Thirty eight children?? If we all had three sets of twins, with the six already, that's fifty four kids."

"Well, we signed up for twelve babies right away," Sandy pointed out, "and we were lucky enough to get you twins to boot. Fifty-four children are going to need a lot of love. It's a good thing we have eight big momma hearts."

"Can we have a run at a long term schedule?" asked Sarah. "Let's see what happens if one of us gets pregnant every month, and the time between pregnancies is six months."

"There are only four more of us ready to take our turns. Laura needs more time off and the twins aren't old enough," said Claire.

"Try every other month," suggested Erin.

"The last of the four of us would get pregnant eight months from now," said Claire. The next slot would be ten months from now. Laura's baby will be nine months old. The twins will still be too young to begin."

"I could probably be ready for more babies nine months after Bozo is born," allowed Laura. "The twins' birthday is twelve and a half months from now. If you twins think you'll be ready, slots are open twelve and a half months from now and fourteen months from now."

"Oh, we'll be ready," said Emma.

"In sixteen months," Sarah continued, "Beth's babies will be seven months old. Beth, do you think that going again that quickly will be alright? Remember, if you do it, the rest of us will be shamed into doing the same thing."

"I'm reminded of the AI's insistence that I'll be good as new right after delivery," Beth said. "If I can get some help, especially at night, then I'm sure I'll be ready again. The schedule seems so neat and tidy and I wouldn't want to start something different for the second and third rounds."

"You'll need the help," Claire told them as she hooked her thumb at her own twins. "Rob was a hero. He was up with me every time. Whenever he could take over and let me go back to bed, he did it. Of course, I wasn't rejuvenated and I was trying to recover while I nursed twins. Rob wasn't equipped to wet nurse but he did everything else he could. How he made it through his days of physical labor, I don't know."

"It sounds like there should always be two nursing mothers," said Diane.

"Are you volunteering?" asked Beth with a smirk.

Diane looked surprised. "Me?"

"Sure, Diane," chuckled Sandy. "Nursing puts your maternal instincts into overdrive. It powerfully bonds you with the baby. You'd be amazed. If you decide to help Beth nurse her babies, you'll feel like those are your own babies, and you'll feel you and Beth are one."

Diane looked shocked. She turned to Beth. "It never crossed my mind that I could do that," she said. "I think I might want to. Will you let me think about it for a while, please?"

"Of course you can," Beth replied. "I don't need the help for nine more months. You'll be pregnant by then, but I don't know how far along. That depends on where you wind up in the batting order."

"Laura is going to need help a lot sooner than that," Claire pointed out.

"You know," drawled Erin, "here we are talking about the batting order and stuff. I think I should point out that a couple of us are out of the lineup, so to speak, for the next year. Could we go in as pinch hitters?"

"You want to wet nurse Laura's baby?" asked an incredulous Sarah.

"Well... yeah," said Emma. "I hadn't thought of it before. I think it's a good idea."

"AI," said Beth, "what's your take on Erin's proposal?"

"Dependents Erin and Emma are past menarche," responded the AI. "It is simple to induce lactation in women. Motherhood is not required. That is, the woman need never have birthed a child in order to lactate. Erin and Emma are dependents and could not be forced into this duty. They may volunteer and, unless the sponsor objects, the nanites will be introduced to cause lactation to begin. Their breasts are still developing but sufficient progress has already been made."

"Would the twins produce colostrum at the beginning, like the mother does?" asked Sarah. "Would the twins' colostrum be good for Laura's baby?"

"What about three -- Laura and the twins -- all producing milk at the same time for only one baby?" asked Sandy. "The mother alone is supposed to be able to produce enough for a baby. Having help will be great for Laura, but what about balancing supply and demand?"

"Erin and Emma would produce colostrum at first," answered the AI, "and the colostrum would be beneficial to the baby. The supply of and demand for milk will be balanced shortly after milk production commences."

"I suspect that the majority of the twins' milk will not be delivered to the baby," chuckled Claire. "Let me tell you girls that, if you lay around drinking each other's milk, your milk production will soar, and you will regret it."

"How long does a baby nurse from its mother?" asked Diane.

Beth chuckled. "Children will nurse for as long as their mother will let them. There are stories of children aged two, three, or even older still nursing, unbuttoning their mother's blouses and helping themselves."

"I was told that a nursing baby should be fed only mother's milk for the first six months," said Sarah. "I was also told that weaning is easiest when the baby is about one year old."

"I think we're about to get all tangled up with 'who's helping who' until we sort out the batting order for our pregnancies," said Claire. "I'm not sure we want to nurse deeply into our own pregnancies, since we'll be nursing well after giving birth. We're planning to get pregnant again when our babies are seven months old. We probably should stop nursing a month before we get pregnant. The babies will need another six months of nursing, but not from their mother. Let's have a go at a pregnancy sequence and then fit the wet nursing in."

There were no objections. Beth looked significantly at each of the four women. "We're talking about who gets pregnant two, four, six and eight months from now. Laura's turn is ten months from now. The twins' turns are twelve and fourteen months from now. Diane, Claire, Sandy, Sarah, do any of you have a strong preference?"

"I think Diane should have a free choice, any one she wants," said Sandy.

"Why?" asked Diane. "Why should I be special?"

"You're the only one of us who isn't already a mother," a smiling Sarah said softly. "You're the one who used to be a forty-something who wasn't sure you ever wanted to be a mother at all. It doesn't really matter to the rest of us what the order is. What matters to us is that you're comfortable and confident in your pregnancy."

"We're beginning to over-think this one," said Sandy. "Diane will take her turn. Laura's baby will show her what it's going to be like. If anything, Diane might wait until she sees that Bozo settles down and sleeps through most of the night before she takes her turn."

"The alternative," giggled Erin, "would be for Diane to jump in, head first."

"Oh, fuck it," barked a smiling Diane. "Can I have someone else be next, and I'll be next after that?"

Claire looked at Sarah and Sandy. "Beth is first and Diane is third. We probably shouldn't do it so that all the old women go first. Would one of you two like to be next?"

Sarah and Sandy looked at each other. "My Morgan is one. Your Lily is four. You should go next. Alright?" Sarah nodded. Sandy turned to Claire. "Do you want to be last or next to last?"

"You choose," smiled Claire.

"You really don't care?" Claire shook her head. "Then I'll be after Diane."

"Can we take a break?" asked Laura. "Bozo says I need to pee."

"I bet Morgan needs a dry diaper," said Sandy. "Nathan, let's go upstairs and see if we can get in some mischief."

"I think I've been derelict with the children," said Claire. "Logan and Daniel, let's go practice juggling."

The twins had wandered off to the living room where Jack and Rob were watching a ball game. They wondered whether they could find some balls to play with -- the kind attached to a man. Claire and Sandy were on the upper level with the kids.

Martin returned from his sleep training session to find Laura, Diane, Sarah and Beth sitting around the table, chatting. He smiled and nodded in response to their greetings but without a word he casually walked up behind Beth, ran his open-fingered hand up her neck and into her hair, gently but firmly stood Beth up and pressed her face down onto the table. His hand still full of Beth's hair, he moved her chair and stepped close behind her. He nudged her legs apart and let his rigid cock begin to seek her entrance.

"Oh, you savage," she hissed. "Right there, lover. Drive it in!"

"You're not even wet yet, are you?" asked an alarmed Laura.

"I think that's one of the attractions for her," Diane softly said. "Watch her face. It isn't the pain she loves, it's him forcing himself on her." And Beth did wince as Martin repeatedly thrust his dry cock into her dry hole. Knowing what she wanted, he did not even withdraw to spread her juices, easing his way into her. He kept his hand full of her hair, her cheek pressed onto the table surface.

"I had no idea, M... Beth," said Sarah. "I can't picture Dad filling that role."

Diane giggled. "You probably avoided thinking about the folks having sex at all." Sarah nodded agreement.

"How bizarre," said Sarah, "that we're having a quiet conversation as we sit around our sister who is being all but raped on the table in front of us."

"You're right, Sarah," whispered Laura. "I think Beth is having a very old fantasy fulfilled."

"Guilty as charged, Laura. Ooh, Martin! Fuck a baby into me," breathed Beth. "Fuck two babies into me."

Martin had bottomed out. He stood for a moment, delighting in the entire scene, delighting in the sensations along his cock. He began to powerfully thrust into her. The thrusts were at first short but were soon lengthened. Martin noticed idly that there was all but no ripple in her newly eighteen-year-old ass as he slammed into her. The room was silent except for the sound of their bodies slapping together rhythmically. Both Martin and Beth began to sweat profusely but he kept up his attack.

Beth could no longer keep completely still. The longer they went on, the more aroused she became, the more squeaks and moans escaped her throat. Martin remained silent but his facial expressions told of his impending orgasm.

At last he roared as he blasted baby makers deep inside her. That sent her over the edge as well and she keened her own orgasm. He slowed his thrusts and then stopped. He stood still briefly, withdrew his fingers from her hair, stepped back and loudly smacked her ass with his open hand. He turned and left the room without having spoken a word. His handprint was soon sharply outlined on her ass cheek.

"Wow," breathed Sarah.

"I've had that fantasy for thirty years," Beth softly said, still lying on the tabletop. "That was all I ever dreamed it would be. God help me, I want to get a bucket so I don't have to pee in the toilet. I don't want the AI to tell us I'm pregnant yet. I don't want this rutting to end. I want to be fucked, just fucked 'till I'm like a rag doll."

4 Section 63 -- Notice of embarkation drill

"This neighborhood is now fully occupied," reported the AI to all collars, all implants and in all living units. "Tomorrow will be the first drill for routine embarkation to the cube transport ship. Drills for emergency evacuation will begin at a later date.

"There is but one transporter pad for this neighborhood," the AI continued. "Accordingly, embarkation will occur by row. The occupants of units 1-A and 1-J, furthest from the main corridor, will go first, followed in alternation by units, 1-B, 1-I, 1-C, 1-H, and so on until the last units in the row, units 1-E and 1-F have been transported. Next will be units 2-A, 2-J and so on.

"Transport of the entire neighborhood will require considerable time. Two hours have been budgeted for the drill, which will commence at nine thirty. From nine o'clock, all personnel are restricted to their units until it is time to approach the transporter pad.

"Every sponsor should designate one concubine as primary, or den mother, or straw boss or the like. This designation should be lasting but may be changed at any time by the sponsor.

"When directed to exit the living unit and approach the transporter pad, the sponsor will lead and the straw boss will be last so that he or she can ensure that the entire family is accounted for. It is recommended that you hold hands and move in single file. The straw boss should offer and accept the hand of the sponsor of the adjacent unit so that a continuous line of personnel is created.

"If any straw boss concubine discovers that the family unit is not entirely accounted for, then the entire family unit should step out of line, away from the center of the corridor. The straw boss should find the missing family member and get the family restored to full strength. At that time, the sponsor will lead the family toward the transporter pad. That family will be last through the transporter before the next row begins.

"The destination neighborhood is exactly the same as this neighborhood. You are instructed to proceed directly to the unit number in the new neighborhood corresponding to your current unit number.

"When everyone in the entire neighborhood has been transported and has occupied a living unit, the entire procedure will be conducted again and you will be returned here. When the entire neighborhood has been transported back and has reached their living unit, the drill will be complete and you will be dismissed."

Juanita Forester noticed that the voice of the AI was not exactly like the one they were used to in the living unit. She also noticed that the familiar voice was used when they were asked whether they had any questions. "AI, was what we just heard broadcast to the entire neighborhood at once? Was it like a public address announcement?"

"It was," acknowledged the AI in its familiar voice. "The living unit AIs are able to answer questions. Do you understand the instructions?"

"Let me see if I can summarize," said Alan. "When the AI instructs, we will leave the unit, me first and Lisa last. Lisa will see that all of us are present. When I exit, I will accept the hand of the last concubine from the next door unit. When Lisa exits, she will offer her hand to the sponsor next door. After we transport, we go to the living unit with the same number as this one. Then we do it all over again to get back here. Is that about it?"

"That is correct," confirmed the AI.

"Sounds so simple," said Alan. "What could go wrong?"

Day 5

5 Section 64 -- The Palmers find a family

"Hello? Is Lacey Palmer in here?" The man, a sponsor, stood in the open doorway of the living unit. Two concubines, apparently a mother and daughter, stood behind him.

Lacey came down the lift and approached the front door. "I'm Lacey Palmer. What can I do for you?"

"We told the AI what kind of people we were looking for to complete our family," the man answered, "and it directed us to you. Is your Marcie still available as well?"

Lacey stepped back as though she had been slapped. Her hands flew to her mouth and her eyes registered shock. She could only nod.

"My name is Lars Olafson. This is my former wife, Eileen," the man said as he wrapped his right arm around her, "and these are my daughters, Lauren and Chelsea." He urged them to take a step forward. Eileen and Lauren wore red collars and nothing else. Underage Chelsea was fully dressed. "The AI told us that you and your children would be a good match for all of us. I understand your Marcie is fourteen and your Jason is ten?"

Lacey was still too stunned to respond. Eileen stepped forward. "Lauren and I aren't daughter and wife anymore, Lacey. We belong to Lars now. We'd like to talk to you about you three joining us to make a nice big family. May we come in?"

"Of course," stammered Lacey. "Forgive me, I'm so surprised. Please come in and make yourselves comfortable." She led them to the living room. Lars sat on one sofa, between Eileen and Lauren. Chelsea sat on the arm of the sofa next to her sister.

"Lacey," said Eileen softly, "would you like to invite the rest of your family to join us?"

Lacey blushed and nodded. "AI," she said, "would you please invite Marcie and Jason to join us in the living room?"

"Acknowledged," said the AI. A moment later, it said, "Marcie and Jason are on their way."

Soon both came down the lift. Lacey intercepted them, explaining, "We have been invited to interview for the possibility of joining Mr. Olafson's family. Be on your best behavior." She guided them to the sofa across from the Olafsons and seated herself with one of her children on each side of her.

Lars smiled at the Palmers. "I don't think we're being terribly picky, but we have had spectacularly bad luck interviewing so far. It seems that the concubine candidates in the common areas are either overly aggressive or completely cowed. I'm looking for two more concubines. I'm looking for a woman who will become friends with Eileen. I'm looking for a young lady who will become friends with Lauren. I'm looking for a child who will become friends with Chelsea. When we find those three people, I'll know we have ourselves a family that will be happy and contented.

"The AI has already provided your CAP scores and sub-scores to me -- to all of us. We have reviewed and discussed them. We think you are very promising -- on paper, as it were. Lacey, would you tell us a little about yourselves, in your own words, please?"

Eileen interrupted. "Lars, maybe we should alternate. Will you let me tell Lacey about ourselves first? Then Lacey can tell us about her and her family. Then will you let Lauren share her thoughts before we ask Marcie about herself? I don't know if Chelsea and Jason will want a turn, but they are also welcome." Lars nodded agreement. Lacey looked relieved.

Eileen turned her attention to Lacey. "I'd like to put you at ease as much as I can, Lacey. We're from Gastonia. Lars is an attorney and was part of the office pickup. Lars brought as his 'dependents' the three of us plus our neighbors on both sides. We mutually decided that our neighbors wouldn't be a good match for our family. I think they have all been sponsored by now."

"Affirmative," the AI interjected.

"I've been a homemaker since Lauren was born. I had recently been anxious to get out of the house doing something productive. I never achieved that. We'll have to see what colony life is like. Maybe we can be useful outside our home before the babies begin to pile up! Lars is a pleasant man and very supportive of us all. Lars is my best friend. I not only love my children, but I like them as well. Lars and I are very supportive of the children. I have made an effort not to stifle them with more attention than they wanted or needed. Now that we're on the way to the stars, Lauren is an adult. I'm looking forward to helping her -- and helping Chelsea -- become mature young women. I'll let them tell you more about themselves later. I'm not really a chatterbox, Lacey. I think I'll end now and give you a turn."

"Thank you, Eileen," began Lacey. "It was thoughtful of you to begin first. We're from Concord. My neighbor Barbara brought us along as her dependents together with her son Jeff and her daughter Carrie. Jeff is now the sponsor of his mother and sister. Jeff only got two concubines, so we went looking for a sponsor for ourselves."

A green-collar clad woman burst into the living unit and zeroed in on Lacey. "What are you doing in my living room?" she screeched. "I told you to stay out of this room. I'll thank you to get out this minute!"

"Excuse me, Angie," replied Lacey, her voice timorous. "This is Lars Olafson and his family. We're being interviewed right now. Would you leave us in peace, please?"

"I'll give you some peace," screamed Angie. "Go have your interview in your own room. Get out of my living room!"

"Angie, is it?" asked Lars.

"What's it to you?"

"Angie, we're having a nice discussion here and you've interrupted. This living room is not your exclusive domain. Please go back wherever you were before and let us continue."

"This is mine, and you have no right," screamed Angie.

Lars rose and moved closer to Angie, but not so close as to invade her personal space. "AI, is this space under surveillance by a steward with his finger on the trigger?"

"It is," answered the AI.

"And the steward can see and hear?"

"Affirmative."

"Angie, I'm going to escort you to the door," said Lars reasonably. "Unless you want to be stung -- or recycled -- you will obey me and go somewhere else."

"You can't do that!" wailed Angie, but she began to back toward the door as Lars slowly moved forward. Real fear was now combined with rage in her expression. Lars carefully backed Angie through the doorway.

"AI," he said, "close the door." The door closed without remark from the AI. "AI, please keep other people out of this room until we have completed our business."

"Acknowledged."

Lars turned back to the group. Lacey was obviously very frightened and had tears running down her cheeks. Marcie was terrified. Jason was upset and bewildered.

"Well," said a smiling Lars as he returned to his seat, "now it is abundantly clear why you are not out in the common areas."

"That's outrageous, Lacey," said Eileen. "You shouldn't have to tolerate that!"

Lacey sat quietly for a time while she tried to collect herself. She divided her gaze between her lap and the rest of the group. Lauren stifled her own words and instead moved to the love seat between the two sofas, drawing Marcie to her side. Marcie appreciated Lauren's cuddling hug and whispering words of comfort.

With a big sigh, Lacey was ready to resume. She smiled wanly at Lars and Eileen. "This isn't what I had in mind when we first got here," she said. "I wasn't able to stand up to the likes of Angie. It wasn't just me that was being bullied, either. There were girls picking on Marcie and kids picking on Jason. I found it easier just to stay out of the common areas. The AI said I could still be sponsored, but I didn't really believe it. I figured that we wouldn't find sponsors until we arrived at the colony."

She looked plaintively at Lars and Eileen. "I'm not much, I'm afraid. I worked as a checkout clerk at a grocery store. You've seen my CAP score and sub-scores. I don't know what to add to that. The kids' father and I divorced four years ago. I haven't really started dating. I hadn't had any sex for a long time anyway. Whatever they did to juice my libido has just made that problem worse."

"We helped each other," giggled Marcie. "I think she's beginning to like girl-girl, and not just as a substitute for a guy."

Lacey blushed crimson. "I had never been with a female before we arrived here. I was ready to throw myself at the first man I found, just to get some relief. Marcie saved the day. I was reluctant to give like I got, and Marcie made it easier for me."

"She's a quick study," giggled Marcie.

"I've been fooling around with Mom and Dad," Lauren put in. "They wanted me to stay a virgin until we completed our family. I haven't been penetrated ANYWHERE yet. I haven't even had Dad's thingy inside my mouth -- yet. I hope you guys join us, 'cause I don't want to wait much longer at all. Marcie, are you a virgin?"

Marcie blushed and looked down at her hands folded in her lap and shyly nodded. "But not for much longer, I hope!" she giggled as she looked up and around the room. The others chuckled.

"Do you two young ladies have anything else to add?" asked Lars.

"I can already tell that Marcie and I are going to get along fantastically!" smiled Lauren. "I'm sure you'll learn all about me over time. I sure hope you'll join our family."

Young Jason and Chelsea had separated themselves from the rest and were talking quietly. The adults sensed that the two youngsters would enjoy each other's company. "Would you like me to excuse myself," asked Lars, "so you can talk among yourselves before Lacey and Marcie make their decision?"

Lacey looked over at Marcie and found her silently pleading with her mother and nodding her head vigorously. "I take it you don't need any more time before you make your decision?" Lacey asked.

"No, I vote to join the Olafson family," grinned Marcie. "You and Mrs. Olafson can talk for a while if you need to."

Lacey turned to face Lars and Eileen. She smiled with pleasure and obvious relief. "If you'll have us, we would be pleased to join your family." The other adults all cheered and clapped. The two youngsters' attention snapped back to the adults and they smiled and cheered as well.

"All right, then," said Lars with his own smile. "For the record, I offer sponsorship to you, Lacey, and to you, Marcie. Will you be my concubines?"

"YES!" they both exclaimed.

5 Section 65 -- First embarkation drill

"What a cluster fuck," sighed Fleet Auxiliary Lieutenant Stan Lentz. The first transport drill in the first neighborhood was finally over, hours later than expected.

A neighborhood contained one hundred living units. Lentz figured that each sponsor had an average of about three or four concubines and three or four dependents. That meant one hundred sponsors had about three hundred and fifty each of concubines and dependents, for about eight hundred people total. He had allowed three seconds per person. Three seconds was rather a long time for the transporter. At that rate, the entire neighborhood should have been cleared in forty minutes. Another forty minutes to get everyone back, and five minutes between the end of the outbound and the beginning of the return. The entire exercise should have been done in ninety minutes, tops.

People were eating, people were sleeping, bathing, fucking, shitting, doing everything except preparing to participate in the drill, and could not be bothered to be on time.

Despite prodding from the AI, a disappointing number of sponsors were late in exiting their living unit and missed the handclasp of the neighboring straw boss. Instead of a single line, there were snippets containing one or two families. An appalling number of those sponsors immediately approached the transporter pad, unwilling to stand in the queue with everyone else.

Despite warnings from the AI, an unbelievable number of families discovered that someone was missing, and had to step out of the line snaking its way to the transporter pad. There were so many faults that there was mass confusion when every such family tried to be last through the transporter.

A dumbfounding number of people acted like they had never used a transporter pad before in their lives. There was none of the easy, rapid cadence of essentially marching through the transporter field, the pad changing from red to green to red to green in a nice rhythm. Those who passed through the transporter often forgot to step off and, when they finally did, they wanted to remain close by to observe.

The last people were transported out of the neighborhood two hours after the drill had commenced. They had yet to transport back to where they came from.

It was hardly any better during the return exercise. The AIs made poor drill sergeants and were ill equipped to drive the sponsors out the hatches on time. Lt. Lentz had had to draw a lot more stewards into the drill. One steward was stationed outside each hatch as it became time for the sponsor to exit. The AI would report to the steward the number of people living in that unit. The steward had to count heads as they came out. If the correct number came out, the steward could move to the next hatch and begin again.

That did not happen nearly often enough. Instead, the steward drove the last concubine back into the unit with orders to fetch the missing members. Another steward then had to count noses coming out of the next unit. The two stewards leapfrogged each other down the row of living units.

The AIs were able to accurately render the sound of a klaxon, and a loud one at that. When the steward looked to the next hatch and did not see the sponsor's shining face, a klaxon sounded inside the living unit. The awful sound terrorized the children. The presence of bawling children in the queue only made the drill more chaotic.

There being not enough time for those stewards to station themselves properly for the beginning of the next row, still more stewards were needed. So there were two stewards at each end of the row currently being evacuated and four stewards stationed on the next row awaiting their turn. At first, there were two stewards at the transporter pad. Two more were added to maintain control and keep the queues orderly. Two and then four stewards were stationed at the transporter arrival pad. More stewards patrolled the corridors, chivying people into their living units.

Lieutenant Lentz was deeply disappointed at the dismal performance. Lentz wanted to force a whole new drill on the neighborhood, right away. Fortunately, his aides persuaded him to postpone the next drill until the following morning. A review would be conducted in order to determine how to solve the obvious problems.

5 Section 66 -- Heather's family

"I must have died and gone to heaven," Tyrone breathed. On his back in the bed, with a woman cuddled up on each side, he enjoyed the attention his cock was receiving from someone's mouth and hands. "My life is better than the wildest fantasy of a young teenage boy."

"I don't believe you," chuckled Patti. "I can't believe that a pubescent boy wouldn't fantasize entire rooms full of naked girls, all willing to do things."

"You like being the center of attention to four insatiably horny young women?" giggled Heather, who took in the tableaux as she dressed.

"I think he talks too much," giggled Erin. "Someone stick a body part in his mouth to shut him up."

"Believe it or not, I think I'm sated," groaned Cindy. "Let's go grab a quick shower before Heather leaves without us."

Soon, four freshly washed concubines joined Heather at the door and filed out into the corridor. "AI," said Heather, "would you please guide us to some recreation?"

"You will have to be a bit more specific," answered the AI through Heather's implant and the collars of the four concubines. "Recreational activities are abundant. Do you want physical activity like bowling, soccer, basketball or volleyball? These are not the only such activities. Do you want card games, board games, darts, billiards, or the like? How about arcade or video games? Do you want to dance, or join an aerobics class? Do you want to swim, play in a water park, play water polo, or sit in a sauna? Do you want to skate, or play hockey?"

"Wow," said Tyrone, "I had no idea...."

"Copernicus Station will soon hold many more than enough passengers to fill two cube ships at any one time, plus room to assemble passengers for yet another cube transport," said the AI. "With so many people on hand, adequate recreational facilities are essential."

"That water park," said Erin, "does it have a wave pool?"

"Yes," answered the AI. "It also has a number of water slides of varying degrees of thrill." That sounded like fun for all. The AI directed them to the transporter nexus.

5 Section 67 -- Marines

"Good morning, Commander Eisenstadt," said Miles Chandler. "Please sit down." An assistant to the DECO put a tray with coffee, cups, cream and sugar on a corner of Chandler's desk near the commander before withdrawing. "Please help yourself to coffee," said Chandler. After the two men had poured and fixed their coffee, Chandler got down to business.

"I would like your thoughts, please. Your marines have perfected the office building and follow-up extractions. You have an overabundance of passengers for the Valhalla, which will arrive in nine days. I understand that you plan to rest the marines today and tomorrow, and are prepared to resume extractions after that. The Valhalla won't be back again for more than three weeks. The second cube transporter, which has been named 'Mount Olympus', won't be here for a month or more.

"Meanwhile, the Aurora and Kilo transporters arrive daily and are filled the old fashioned way, with pickups of sponsors usually a dozen or two dozen at a time. The marines assigned to the Auroras and Kilos are very good, and I wouldn't want to interfere with their work.

"Here's where I'd like your thinking: what do you suppose would be the outcome if you supplied a portion of the passengers for these transports? Say, for discussion purposes, you supply a typical Kilo with several hundred sponsors and their families, and let the Kilo's marines do the rest?"

"Well..." the commander hedged as he tried to gather his thoughts, "it would keep my marines busy. I think it is easier to do our pickups than it is to do the fire drill of standard pickups. And also safer."

"Don't the marines encounter resistance from outsiders during the secondary pickups?" asked Chandler.

"It was decided," smiled the commander, "that any nearby armed adult who didn't have a CAP card or who was skulking about in an alley away from his home was looking for trouble. We just summarily sting them with a drone and go about our business." Both men chuckled. "That doesn't interdict the media folks, but they're not actually dangerous as they don't usually carry weapons. The AI have become adept at preparing multiple pickup locations to maintain the efficiency of the marines and also at letting marines slip in and out while the reporter's attention is drawn away."

"That's interesting and perhaps I'll find that information to be useful sometime in the future," said Chandler. "How about trying to focus on the effects of you supplying a share of the passengers of the smaller transports?"

"Oh, sorry," blushed the commander. "The two companies of marines are on a six month tour of extractions. In the West, the new standard office pickup can only be done on weekdays. The next load for Valhalla will have been extracted by next Thursday at the latest. Those people would wait about three weeks for the cube ship. I don't see any reason why we should stop using the office pickup regime. Copernicus Station will start getting full by the following week.

"As for the Kilos, it can take scores of pickups to fill the ship. Every one of them is fraught with danger for the marines as well as for the civilians. The marine complement on a Kilo spends two weeks inbound, when they have little to do, and four weeks outbound, where only some of them act as shore patrol -- a job for which combat soldiers are not at all suited. This entire six weeks of underutilization is solely to put them in position to conduct their extractions. This is the meat and potatoes that they have invested six weeks to achieve.

"Marines don't volunteer for extraction duty. Marines on extraction duty are usually on a rotation away from battle. It is a sort of R & R, with a few days of... riot duty, if you will... thrown in the middle. Being in on extractions is useless -- or worse -- for combat marines. The joyride here and back does serve the useful purpose of relaxing and rejuvenating marines.

"I'm afraid I had to think this through out loud. The marines aboard the smaller transports will be better off if they are obliged to conduct fewer extractions. As for the Fleet Auxiliary, I should think that they would be just as happy being able to shorten their time spent in Earth orbit by a few days. I cannot speak for whether the shorter time spent in orbit will cause problems with routine refitting, refueling and the like.

"So, I don't see any reason why I would object to helping fill the smaller transports. Tell me whether you want me to supply fifty sponsors, or nine hundred. By the time my marines rotate off their extraction tour, a significant number of the world's office buildings will have been evacuated. Three companies of marines will be rotated in for the next six-month tour. By then, we will have had to find another reliable source of masses of people every day."

"Major League Baseball teams have family nights, don't they?" asked Chandler. The commander smiled and nodded. "I bet you would have a leg up if a lot of the extractees were already family. The secondary pickup might be achieved almost immediately after the primary pickup, which would thwart the bad guys getting themselves organized in time."

"An excellent idea," smiled Commander Eisenstadt. "Might I impose upon your people to sort out dates, times and locations?"

"Of course," Chandler chuckled. "You know, of course, that you won't be able to aid the filling of Auroras and Kilos for very long. The third cube transport is already under construction and they'll really start rolling out of the shipyards soon enough. I'm glad the expansion of the moon bases is proceeding apace."

5 Section 68 -- Overwrought prospects

Family creation had proceeded more successfully -- and more rapidly -- than anyone had been willing to dream. The division of prospective concubines by category had sped the process greatly. A sponsor desiring, for instance, a mother with small children, entered that area and found no other types of prospects. The sponsor had only to choose whom to take.

Of course, the naturally more attractive among the prospective concubines were selected first. Intellectually aware that appearance could be changed almost without limitation, sponsors -- especially the male sponsors -- were still mainly unable to overcome their instincts. As a result, the dwindling number of concubine prospects became less and less attractive, and not only to the eye.

Among the women, a dichotomy came into focus. On one hand were nice persons burdened with physical shortcomings: the greatly overweight, or balding, those with scars, terrible acne, port-wine stains, and the like. Some were simply nearing the age of menopause, and it showed. On the other hand, personality defects became increasingly apparent. Many of the attractive but mentally deficient were able to get away early. Of those who did not, the shrews, the nags, the mothers with little nurturing ability, the motor mouths, were left to deal with each other as their less physically attractive but more even-tempered competitors were selected and removed from the pool.

The shopping sponsors seemed instinctively to realize this, if only sub-consciously. As time proceeded, being reasonably attractive came to announce a woman with defects invisible to the eye. These same women were unable -- or unwilling -- to see their own shortcomings. They judged their own appearance superior to their physically unattractive competitors. When the later were selected over and over instead of themselves, their ire grew. Bullying became rampant.

All of the women became increasingly desperate to find a sponsor. Where earlier the women had been embarrassed and ashamed, now they approached sponsors with more and more aggression, like used car salesmen trying to sell themselves. As tensions rose between sponsors and prospects -- and between the prospects themselves -- the stewards became increasingly alert. They interceded with less and less reluctance as the same women caused turmoil over and over. So great was their desperation that the frantic women learned little or nothing when a stinger was used on someone nearby.

The situation became intolerable. Political correctness was all well and good. The stewards relented and separated some of the worst bullies from the bullying victims. It did not take the sponsors very long to divine the meaning. Fewer and fewer sponsors appeared in the areas containing bullies. With no more docile women in their midst, they turned on each other. Having tried and failed at other remedies, the stewards started punishing by demanding rough sex from the offenders. That played to the kinks of some of the women and made some of the others even worse.

The areas containing unselected couples were, if anything, more appalling than those containing the single women. Both husband and wife fairly pounced on any sponsor they found. The men bullied each other. The women bullies did not limit themselves to their own gender. Some of the more docile men fared worse at the hands of the female bullies than with other men. That actually worked to the benefit of some of the docile men and their wives. Some sponsors quietly observed the abuse taken by the docile and then selected the victims, the sponsors satisfied that they themselves would have no trouble with their new selections.

In the couples' areas, the stewards' control tactic relied heavily upon taunting the offenders. That worked for a while, but it was well known that to strike a sponsor was a death sentence. The fighter was removed for disposal and the spouse was relocated to a new neighborhood. When mere taunting ceased being effective, the now-paired stewards began to demand rough and painful sex -- right in front of the spouse and everyone else in the entire area. The sexual victim was not always the female.

The stewards could only take so much of this duty. Rotations were established, the new stewards extensively briefed; debriefing became increasingly lengthy. Many could not be returned to the duty.

The men-only areas were divided into two types. Men who clung to the hope of sponsorship were placed in one area. The stewards maintained strict discipline by the simple expedient that miscreants were removed from the area and out of contention for sponsorship. The population of men who had simply given up, or were exiled, grew larger by the hour.