Author: Thinking Horndog Title: Taking Deliveries Part: 1 of 10 Universe: The Swarm Summary: The much-requested sequel to Shopping Around. The antics of the group picked up by CPLs Taylor and Evans on their first night aboard the Catch-22 Keywords: MF MFF FF oral anal D/s ScFi Taking Deliveries Copyright © 2008 The Thinking Horndog Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyrighted with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. Reproduction for profit is forbidden. Any distribution must include this note and the author's email address. Don’t be caught attempting to make a buck off me! Warnings and disclaimers: This is adult entertainment! Be warned! If you’re not into graphic depictions of sex, this is the wrong story for you! If you’re too young to be legally reading this, move along! This is a work of fiction. It is not intended to reflect any particular person or persons, and the incidents portrayed exist in their current form solely in the writer’s imagination. You get the idea. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 1 CPL Pete Taylor stood at the hatchway to Collection Area C on the kilopod transport Catch-22 and sighed. In some ways, making a pickup was the easy part... The collection of people in the cavernous room made the ungodly din that people who have no idea what's coming next ALWAYS seemed to make -- and he could barely hear himself think! Dialing up the volume on the loudspeaker in his ring, he roared, "All RIGHT! BE QUIET!" The room seemed to shake; he'd pumped the volume up pretty high! "Sorry about that," he continued, after backing things off, "but right now, you need to hear one voice -- mine! Nobody here but me and my partner know what comes next -- and the only way ANYBODY is gonna find out is if EVERYBODY keeps their yaps shut long enough to get the word!" The ensuing silence wasn’t perfect, of course; civilians just didn’t get it. Military discipline could yield such a thing -- and they’d get there -- but not for a while yet. Besides, there were a sprinkling of kids present -- and when kids are scared, NOBODY could shut them up for long! Pete could certainly be heard, though -- and with a lot less amplification. "All right," he continued. "You’re all in the same boat at this point. Everybody knows about pickups, but what happens after is the subject of rumor and legend. Well, I’m going to educate you all and dispel some rumors -- and maybe confirm some legends -- but first, we need to get somewhat organized. Sponsors -- that would be you guys with the CAP scores above six point five -- collect your concubines into a tight little group. Get everybody’s CAP card, and get a headcount of those that don’t have one. Be able to discuss those without cards intelligently so we can figure out who is who, later. Find out from your concubines how many eligible offspring they have still on the surface of Mother Earth, and decide whether you’re gonna plan on asking to have them retrieved. And last, but not least, ask everybody in your little family if he or she needs medical attention for anything like high blood pressure or diabetes or anything they’re on drugs for... Everybody got that? Wave an arm -- don’t yell! You’ve got ten minutes -- when you know everything I asked you to find out, park your people’s butts in one place and come see me!" "Excuse me!" Someone was waving. Pete eyed him, trying to place the name. Francke? "Yes?" "What’s this about deciding..." "We’ll talk about that when you come up here," Pete cut him off. "Then, if you need to, you can take the answer back to your family." Francke nodded and turned away. "Okay, the clock is ticking!" Pete added. "The sooner we get organized, the sooner everybody gets food and a place to sleep and a shitload of answers! Go to it!" Some people turned up pretty quickly -- and others took more time. Sandrine Knopf, the only woman in the sponsor group, turned up first, with CAP cards for Bradley and Barbara Pinchot, and the information that their minor children, Chantal and Bryce, were present and accounted for. Wayne Moore accounted for Cathy Clark, the foxy brunette who had pulled a train at pickup, and Debra McPherson, the schoolteacher. "Cathy might need to have her ass looked at," Wayne muttered. Jason Frederics showed up to report that Allison Tate, the counter girl with the sad mouth, and Nadine Peters, the construction worker, required nothing. Elliott Bradley turned up with cards for his two dumpy secretary types, Phyllis Parker, and June Thatcher. "Who do I talk to about making them a little younger?" he asked. Both had what were probably minor prescription issues. "Later," Rick Evans told him. "Emergencies first. Why did you...?" "Ahhh, I just couldn’t leave ‘em..." Elliott shrugged. "I’m an old softie, I guess." Rick looked mildly disgusted. "Do you like either of them enough to want to have a half-dozen kids by her?" Elliott wrinkled his nose. "Well, it was the luck of the draw. At least I know ‘em. I’ll manage." "Well, you can START by NOT being an ‘old softie’ ANY MORE!" Rick warned him. "You own them -- not vice-versa -- and they need to understand that up front, or your life will be shit, believe me!" Elliott nodded. "I’ll bear that in mind." Mike Fisher arrived next. "I’m gonna need baby stuff," he related, "for little Tommy. That would be Linda’s kid." He handed over her CAP card. Linda was the last female selected -- a chubby, brown-haired dishrag type who was so slow off the mark that she almost stayed behind. "And Jolene has three kids on the ground -- I think her sister is watching them. Tyrone, Nishelle, and Broaddus." Jolene was a scrawny, mouthy black chick with nipple rings in her droopy titties. "They’re all under fourteen?" Pete asked. "Supposedly." "I bet you’re thinking you should have kept Nikki," Rick chuckled. Mike grimaced and shook his head. "At least this pair know what sex is. I don’t envy Mitch." Mitch Francke had somehow ended up with a pair of teenyboppers -- each inherited singly from Mike when he discovered that older women wouldn’t have anything to do with him for taking on young stuff. Kiran Patan was the first of the Sevens to show up, with cards for his pair of Indian women, Amita and Sharmila, young Isobel Montoya -- and Kellie Wentworth. "We need nothing -- for now." "About the Wentworth chick," Pete began. "She is worthless for anything but an object lesson to my other women," Kiran snorted. "She is dull and foolish and I see no use for her except as a collection of holes to abuse -- but if the others learn respect, it will have been worth it, dealing with her." Pete pursed his lips. A certain spoiled young brat was going to see hard times -- if he hadn’t just heard her death sentence... "What about Isobel?" "Isobel is spirited, but I believe that she understands discipline and obedience to authority," Kiran declaimed, adding blithely, "She’s not Indian, of course... On the other hand, Amita and Sharmila will need to be un- Americanized..." Pete nodded, thinking, ‘This could get ugly...’ Kiran, looking off toward the groups, muttered, "Here comes Sanket. He did well with Rachana, but why he took on those fat aunties..." He shook his head and moved off. Sanket Parsupula arrived, clutching cards for Rachana, Anne Mayweather, Inez Montoya, and Donna Eggers. "Anne may need assistance for diabetes, and Inez for high blood pressure," he related. "Your colleague doesn’t understand your selection criteria," Pete related. "I’m uncertain that I understand them, myself," Sanket related diffidently. "Rachana... Well, I couldn’t leave her. Anne, well, holds an odd fascination -- I’m not sure whether it is physical or mental. Donna is pleasant to look upon and seems to have some sense..." "And Inez?" Pete prompted. "I felt sorry for her. I hope, though, that she will work out, once a part of her youth is recovered." Sanket shrugged. "Well, she’s a wiser head, at least," Pete noted. "Good luck." "Thank you." Sanket moved off. "Very different from his friend," Rick noted. "Yeah..." Mitch Francke arrived next, carrying cards for one Michelle (Mickey) Rawlins, the bushy bleached-blonde mother of two, Tamara Jackson -- also a mother of two, Nikki Swenson, the fifteen year old bleach blonde with the mouse-brown muff, and Vicky Ellis, her quiet, brown-haired friend. "I’ve got three pickups," Mitch related, "Mickey’s girls Lisa and Petra, and Tyler Gregory. Tamara’s kids Leah and Latoya are with her." "The Gregory kid -- umm, Michelle is the legal guardian?" Pete confirmed. "We have a note from the mother and a verbal from the father that there is a document," Mitch replied. "He’s being very careful," the AI transmitted through Pete’s implant. "He is speaking what he believes to be the truth, but it appears that he has concerns that something might occur at variance with the plan." Pete nodded, subvocalizing, "I think this is a last-minute thing." Addressing Mitch, he asked, "So what’s up with this?" Mitch sighed. "The mother, Bettina Gregory, is... unstable. The husband is going broke trying to cope, but he can’t farm the boy out all day every day -- and he’s in danger at home, so..." "How many charity cases does that make?" Pete chuckled. "I dunno," Mitch grunted. "Three? Six? Nine?" "I’ve got you beat," Elias Whitcomb announced himself. He started handing over cards, "There’s that sow, Sue -- fat, ugly AND stupid -- Penny McBride the pigeon-toed Holocaust survivor, Alicia Cortez the grouchy greaser, some chunky cunt named Beth Savage whose only claim to fame seems to be that she wants kids..." He wrinkled his nose. "Maybe you win after all. The little chink bitch seems to have a head on her shoulders and isn’t hard to look at, and Denise, the brunette, has an ass to die for..." He rubbed his nose. "I oughta get triple credit for Sue, though..." "Got any issues?" Pete asked, knowing the answer. Elias cocked his head. "Don’t suppose there’s somewhere around here I could smoke..." "Not hardly!" Rick chuckled. "The Darjee would freak and there would be bird shit ALL over the place!" "Well, if you got a fix for it, Alicia and I are gonna need it," Elias sighed. "Dunno what I’m gonna do with my hands, though..." "With six women available, I can’t see you not finding SOMETHING to hang onto!" Rick jibed. "Go get Alicia -- you’re in the first wave at Medical, when I call for you." He started adding numbers on his electronic notebook. "Nine sponsors. Twenty-eight concubines. Five kids on site, and six to be picked up. Seven for Medical." "Ummm..." a female voice sounded behind them. Rick glanced over his shoulder at Maureen. "Oh, yeah. Twenty-NINE concubines. If Pete makes a habit of forgetting you, Honey, just wander over to MY place -- you hear?" He grinned at the tall blonde. "I said this before, and I’ll say it again," Pete retorted, "GET YOUR OWN!" Rick laughed. "Come here," Pete crooked a finger at Maureen. "Do you have any medical problems? Anything?" "No..." "Well, don’t hesitate to tell me, so we can fix them," Pete told her. "I won’t, um, sir," Maureen replied diffidently. "For now, ‘Pete’ is fine," Pete told her. "I have a lot on my mind right now -- make sure you don’t get left out of anything. Come here..." He pulled her in and backed her against him, rubbing her belly. "Do you mind being naked?" "Um, well, a lot of people are..." "You’re likely not to wear a lot of clothing for a while," Pete told her, "largely because you’re such fun to look at." "Is that normal?" She relaxed against him and enjoyed the feel of his big hands on her body. "A lot more so than it would be down on the ground," Pete told her. "Lots of sponsors take a while to get used to seeing their concubines in skin. Some never tire of it." "I imagine that depends on how the concubine looks," Maureen said quietly. Based on experience, she had no reason to expect any man to have a whole lot of interest... "True," Pete agreed. "Like I said -- you’re gonna be naked for a while..." Maureen was nonplussed. "I don’t understand why..." "Well I do!" Rick laughed. "You probably look your best naked, because then everyone can see that there’s not a damned thing wrong with you!" "I..." Maureen blinked, surprised. "Just like going to McDonald’s and ordering it up super-sized -- only I got a hot blonde!" Pete chuckled. "Rick’s all jealous..." "B--but..." Maureen’s hand flashed to the only thing really wrong with her -- a splash of acne across her cheeks, half-hidden by make-up. "That?" Pete laughed. "That’s NOTHING! Rick and I have seen a LOT of female flesh in the past few months -- take it from us, you need VERY LITTLE help..." "That’s sweet..." Maureen didn’t really BELIEVE a word of it -- but it sounded nice... "I’ll show you later -- first, back to the salt mines." Pete released her, reluctantly, and stepped away. "All right!" he addressed the group, "it’s time for the briefing! Can everyone hear me? You don’t want to miss this! SILENCE!" Things quieted down; Linda’s little one Tommy was snuffling some. "Hey, uh, Linda!" Pete consulted his list. "Do you breast feed?" Linda nodded. "Well, whip it out and make him happy, willya? Obviously, nudity isn’t a problem here..." Linda looked around, dazed -- but there were a LOT of women in various stages of undress present... Mike leaned over and whispered, "Just do it." Linda nodded and handed him Tommy so she could open up her blouse... Jolene sighed. "You’re gonna have to babysit her Baby..." Mike produced a crooked grin. "No, YOU are. Get her out of that rig," he waved at the bra. "Everybody else is naked -- at least she has a reason." "I just don’t..." Linda muttered, shrugging out of the bra. "Shh!" Mike replied. "Feed him!" He handed her Tommy back. "You watch things -- you know what you’re doing!" he added to Jolene. "Are we under control, here?" Pete asked somewhat sarcastically. Mike waved. "All right -- this is the big briefing. Take mental notes -- it’s all pretty simple really, but for some of you it’s gonna be a shock!" Pete looked around. "I’m gonna start at the bottom, with some basic terms. Officially, just about every woman in this room -- and one male, if memory serves -- is referred to as a ‘concubine.’ The person who chose you on the ground down there, we refer to as a ‘sponsor.’ He was watching Linda, who was listening as best she could with an expression of utter confusion on her face. "Wait a minute -- I think I started things at too advanced a level..." "What’s up?" Rick subvocalized. "At least one member of our audience has no fucking idea what’s going on," Pete muttered back. "When I give the high sign, pop the shutter on the port, willya?" Rick nodded and headed over to a bank of switches. "All right -- forgive me, but when I look around, I see faces that have no clue about the basics. For those of you who have some idea what’s up, this might seem elementary, but you probably STILL haven’t let the whole thing sink in -- so hang in there while we put everyone on the same footing, okay?" Pete swept the group with his eyes, gauging them. "A little while ago you were all in that cute little bakery place, having breakfast or your midmorning break. Then we showed up and the world changed. You stepped through a portal and arrived here. What do you think you did when you did that?" Pete looked around. "Anybody? Raise your hands and I’ll pick out a volunteer..." Several people raised her hands; Cathy Clark got Pete’s attention. "Go ahead," he told her. "I became a citizen of the Confederacy?" Cathy guessed. Pete grimaced. "It’s probably not as simple as that. Your sponsor, who had already volunteered for the Confederacy’s armed forces, became a citizen, but you didn’t, really. I’ll go into that later, but there is something basic that each and every one of you did... Sanket?" "We emigrated to the colonies," Sanket replied, obviously fairly sure of himself. "That’s correct," Pete nodded. "You have kissed the home world goodbye. You are no longer citizens of the USA, or even the Earth. Where do you figure that means you are now?" Pete nodded at Rick, who hit the switches. Behind them the protective cover of the port slid open -- and the Earth hung there, heavy, taking up over two-thirds of the visual field. There was a collective gasp, multiple exclamations, and at least one short scream! "That’s not a video," Pete declared. "Anyone who believes it is can play in an airlock, if they like -- but I don’t recommend it! Welcome to the kilopod transport Catch-22, in Earth orbit!" Linda started out at the scene in horror! She couldn’t breathe! For a moment, she just stood there, swaying, panting -- then she turned to Mike and said faintly, "I just wanted a bagel... Breakfast was cheap there, and I was broke..." She started shaking like a leaf. Mike pulled her to him and she tucked her face in his shoulder; little Tommy was supported between them more or less automatically. "I’m sooo fucked..." Jolene muttered, gazing out the port. "So totally fucked..." "I’ll take care of you," Mike promised, "Both of you. Okay?" He was holding Linda, but looking at Jolene. Linda, her face hidden, said, faintly, "Okay." Jolene just nodded, looking dazed. ‘Slut’ -- or Kellie Wentworth -- knelt before Kiran, gazing out the port, dazed. "Your father and all of your influential friends are down there," Kiran told her, with a certain malicious satisfaction. "They can’t help you. Soon, we will leave this place. You are no longer a child of privilege; you are nothing, own nothing. You belong to me -- and are more a pet than a person. You are beneath the lowest of your household servants -- and the sooner you understand this, the better." "Surely not..." Kellie moaned. "Wait," Kiran told her. "See if I am not right." Nadine Peters peered out the port. "Pretty," she murmured. "So, we’re kissing it goodbye?" "Looks like it," Jason replied. "I wonder if there are any jobs in the building trades where we’re going?" Nadine muttered. "No idea," Jason replied. Leah and Latoya had their noses pressed to the port material, whatever it was; Tamara -- even with Mickey’s help -- hadn’t been able to corral them. Nikki and Vickie drifted in close behind them, less happy about the whole thing. "I think our social life just hit the wall," Nikki opined. Vickie, as usual, limited herself to, "Yeah." "Dios Mio!" Inez gasped. "So it’s true, then..." "It’s... a shock..." Anne breathed. Rachana whimpered and tucked herself against Sanket, hiding her face in his shoulder, while Donna clutched his hand. "Well, THAT’s pretty..." Elias mused. Looking around, he took stock of his women’s reactions. Sue was frozen in place with her mouth open. Alicia was scowling. The Jap girl -- what WAS her name? -- looked somewhat concerned, but in control. Beth I Want to Have Kids looked out the port, then looked away -- and clearly wasn’t planning on looking back. Scrawny Penny had her head tucked in Denise’s shoulder -- and Denise was eyeing Elias. Pete waved at Rick and the port shutter closed -- to loud complaints from Leah and Latoya. "I need everyone’s attention," he answered the objection. "Sponsors, get your concubines under control and we’ll continue." There was a mutter and a shuffle and Pete determined that just about everyone was again oriented in his direction. "I don’t have to tell you that your lives have just changed," he continued, "but I get to tell you how much!" He crooked a finger at Maureen, who stepped in close, then he pointed at the floor. Maureen cocked her head, then knelt in front of him, facing his audience, but looking up at him for confirmation that she was doing things correctly. Pete reached down and cupped a breast, and held onto it, continuing, "Where you came from, this is sexual harassment. Here, it’s something different. I told you a bit ago, that most of you are officially described as ‘concubines’ and the rest are officially referred to as ‘sponsors’ -- well, if you want to understand the reality, the first group would be called ‘slaves’, and the second would be ‘masters.’ Concubines, your sponsor owns you -- he or she is responsible for your behavior and his or her word is law! There is no Constitution -- therefore, you have no unalienable rights. Sponsors are subject to military discipline -- and that’s about all there is to the official legal structure. Concubines are subject to the whims and demands of their sponsor -- period. There is no justice, no appeal to a higher court. Your sponsor has complete authority over you -- literally to the point of determining whether you live or die! Some of you are going to have a hard time getting this through your silly heads -- and I’m here to tell you that’s a GREAT way to get shoved out and airlock without a vacuum suit or recycled into burgers! Is anyone here married to their sponsor? I don’t recall..." Bradley Pinchot raised his hand and said diffidently, "We’re married," pointing to himself and Barbara, "but SHE’s our sponsor!" Pete nodded. "In a way, that’s a relief," he declared, "because wives who get picked up with their sponsors are the single most likely group to end up too stupid to live! Bradley, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not married any more. Sandrine has the right to split you and Barbara up at any point she chooses and dispose of either or both of you as she sees fit. Are we clear?" Bradley blanched, but nodded, sharing a glance with his former wife. "Now, your sponsor can choose to pretend he’s running a democracy, or whatever -- but the moment you leave your quarters, he’s responsible for anything that you do, so even if he’s Mr. Nice Guy, if you fuck up, he may be forced to punish you -- severely! I’ve already defined the limits of the legal system -- and I’m here to tell you AGAIN that while your sponsor has limits placed on his actions where it comes to other sponsors, he has ABSOLUTELY NONE where YOU are concerned! Remember that!" Pete sighed. "I know that I could stand here talking until I was blue in the face, and some of you wouldn’t get it. What I’m going to tell you now is more convention than hard and fast rules, in some cases -- and I’ll point THOSE out. First, children are NOT slaves. Children are the PRIMARY PURPOSE that most of you are here for -- you’re going to have more, regularly, because we want to grow as a race so we have the numbers necessary to confront our enemies! As a result, children do not share the lowly status of their concubine parents. They are expected to be properly disciplined -- and by the way, the ‘hands off’ methods of Dr. Spock are not thought well of, as they don’t teach a healthy respect for the consequences of one’s actions -- but they will NOT be mistreated by either concubines or sponsors! Children will not be subject to any sexual contact until they reach fourteen, at which time, they’ll be tested and take their place in society as adults, either as a sponsor or as a concubine. Until then, they’re sponsors in training." Pete scanned the group again while marshalling his thoughts. "What are the duties of a concubine? It’s pretty simple, actually. You do whatever the fuck your sponsor tells you to do! Primarily, you’re here to make your sponsor happy while cranking out and raising a huge family for him. Cooperate with your fellow concubines so the whole thing is light work for everybody -- that’s why there is more than one of you to a sponsor. Your sponsor has other duties -- raising kids is YOUR problem. Oh, he’ll be around and will make final decisions on important subjects, but he has a job outside the home -- and you don’t; things have reverted to a more or less medieval model -- sorry about that. So, once again, your job is to keep your sponsor happy and crank out children -- anything else is icing on the cake." "Exceptions," Pete continued, "would be doing violence to another sponsor -- and vice-versa. This isn’t set in stone, but sponsors, the general rule is you have yours and he has his and you keep your hands off each other’s! You don’t have the right to discipline somebody else’s concubine -- but you DO have the right to demand that HE does it. If you don’t own it and you don’t have permission from the guy who does, don’t go playing with his toys! Can a sponsor lend out a concubine? Yes. Can sponsors trade concubines? Yes. Could a sponsor sell a concubine? Yes, but given the fact that money and possessions aren’t huge in Confederacy society, what the buyer would use for cash is unclear." Pete waved at the group. "Your current layout isn’t set in stone; some of you will have made mistakes at pickup -- and a swap might fix it, either between you or with another sponsor you haven’t met yet. What’s fair is what the two sponsors involved decide is fair -- note that the concubine has no input here! Oh, your sponsor may pay attention when you wheedle him that the guy he wants to trade you off to is old and ugly and so forth -- but he doesn’t HAVE to, and if he doesn’t, you’re stuck! Plan to be nice to Old Ugly, or plan not to live much longer!" Pete glanced around. "I’m getting tired of talking, so we’re going to move on to other things. Over the next few days, you’ll all attend a series of briefings on all of this -- and no doubt, you’ll see a few object lessons! This is a thousand pod transport, and it’s over half full; in the next few weeks, somebody is going to screw up and you’ll hear about the results -- it’s bound to happen. Try to learn from it." He glanced at his pad. "Let’s move on. Elias, bring Alicia up here. Elliott, drag your pair up. Sanket, I need to see Inez and Anne. Wayne, what’s the status of Cathy’s ass? Mike, why don’t you bring Linda and Tommy here and we’ll see about baby stuff. Everyone else, I’m placing in the hands of my colleague Rick, here, who will start assigning you your quarters. Try not to give him too much trouble, please..." "Gee thanks!" Rick grunted. "I’ll be back in ten or fifteen minutes," Pete chuckled. "Settle out whoever you can while I’m gone." He waited while those whose names he’d called straggled in, then waved, "Follow me. Maureen, you can come, too." Medical -- actually, Medical Unit C -- had a half-dozen tubes available, which wasn’t a surprise since they were scheduled to service Pete’s pickup. Elias eyed the tubes suspiciously. "So, what do you get in there?" "Nanobots," the medic replied. "First, a full diagnostic, then nanobots programmed to fix specific issues, along with other therapies. This isn’t a change run, it’s just clean-up, fix-up, paint-up from the inside out. What’s the urgent issue?" "Smoking," Pete replied for Elias. "I figured," the Medic grinned. With Elias, it was obvious; he looked like he was being smoked like a ham from the inside out. "Settle yourself in the tube -- this will take maybe twenty minutes." "Suppose you pop her in first?" Elias replied, pointing at Alicia. "Same problem as me... Being I’m responsible for her I want to see her tucked in." "Oh, SURE!" Alicia rolled her eyes. "You just want a guinea pig!" Elias grinned. "Well, that, too." Alicia sat in the tube. "Will it hurt?" "Nope. You’ll go to sleep and wake up healthier," the medic replied. "The cure actually takes a couple of days -- we just start it here. You’ll be getting some gum to chew to get you past the worst of it." "Tried that," Elias grunted. "This time it will work, because the ‘bots will be tuning the receptors. The gum is just to keep the cravings down initially. It isn’t the cure -- it just keeps you comfortable while the ‘bots remove your dependence on nicotine." "So willpower isn’t required..." Elias mused. "Nope." "Lay down, Honey," Elias told Alicia. "I’m right behind you." He went and sat in a tube and watched her settle in -- and noticed something. "She was out before the cover closed." The medic nodded. "Lots of people get claustrophobic, so we use a neural field dampener. That way they never get a chance to feel totally enclosed." Elias nodded. "Pretty smart. All right -- let’s get on with it. He settled back and the cover closed. Several of the others were anxious, but no one was a problem. That left little Tommy, who had no apparent issues, but was going to need sources of baby supplies. Any concerns Mike and Linda had were quickly addressed; anything Tommy needed -- and more than Linda had ever dreamed of -- was available almost instantly via replication and an online catalog. "Lady," the medic laughed, "you’re here to have kids; we’d be total fools not to have the stuff to support them!" "How do I pay for this?" Mike asked. "You show up for work, basically," Pete replied, shrugging. "Do whatever it is we’re asking of you. Basic needs are supplied. Beyond that -- well, to be frank, there isn’t much beyond that -- but how much more do you need?" The AI’s report on Cathy Clark’s ass tickled Pete’s sense of humor -- and Wayne Moore’s, too, for that matter. "Minor anal tearing, naturally repairable in ten days -- two days under augmentation. Pre-existing scars also repairable in two days." "Pre-existing scars?" Wayne asked. "The subject appears to have a history of anal intercourse or other anal penetrations going back several years," the AI responded. Wayne snorted. "Is that a fact..." "It is deduction," the AI replied. "Direct evidence is lacking." Wayne turned a confused glance on Pete, who grinned. "They can be literal-minded..." "I see," Wayne grinned back. Then a thought occurred to him and he sobered. "How many years?" There was a pause. "Verifiable data is unavailable," the AI responded finally. "More data will become available if and when progress data is downloaded from the nanobots conducting the repair. Current probability analysis for initial episode of scarring can be seen on the screen to your right." An age vs. probability curve appeared -- and Wayne gasped. "This says that she was having anal sex at twelve!" "Yes," the AI replied. "From current data, it is statistically certain by age fourteen. It is expected that further data will result in an increased probability that the subject was first penetrated before puberty." "That might explain a couple of things," Wayne mused.