"Hello, Cliff. Your usual tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Lets see. You want a medium-rare flatiron steak, with either the baked potato or the veggies. We're having broccoli tonight. A salad bar. Put a hold on the hot food until you tell the server and you'll want a mix of iced tea and Sierra Mist."

"You got it. I'll take the broccoli. I guess one night a week for a few years and you have me memorized, except for when I have the ribs instead."

"It does get easier when you get the same things most of the time."

"You look pretty busy tonight."

"Yeah. We have a big office birthday party in the back and a church league basketball team and lots of extra people besides that.

"Don't worry. I'll leave something at the salad bar for them."

Cliff handed over his credit card and when she asked him for his ID, he smiled and thanked her for asking as he presented it. It was a little ritual here, where they knew him so well, but ever since he lost a checkbook and had ten bad checks cashed in one day on that account, he never gave the checker a bad time for being cautious.

"Enjoy your meal."

"How is everything tonight, Cliff?" The waitress placed a couple of extra napkins on the table as she replaced his drink with a full one.

"Every thing's fine. Why don't you go ahead and have them start the steak, Nikki." Cliff was seriously overweight. Well, to be honest, he was really obese. He needed to lose over half of his current weight. He tried to keep from eating too much proteins, carbs, fats, etc by eating huge amounts of salad, first. Unfortunately that just kept him eating excessively large portions of almost everything. Combined with a sedentary security job, no exercise, hypothyroidism, and eating a few large meals instead of more, but smaller meals, over the course of the day...

He had just finished a huge salad. Unfortunately, with the dressing, the olives, a few slices of pepperoni, and the pasta salad mix, it was far too large a meal all by itself. He knew that he was just shortening his lifespan. He already had two coronary stents. Oh, who cared? The Swarm would be here in a few years. He had a semiautomatic rifle, a .45 automatic, several hundred rounds of ammo, and if he couldn't get a 'Willie Pete' grenade from the military, he would make himself a molotov cocktail to leave as his final present for the Swarm. His 4.9 CAP score sure wasn't getting him out and neither was his physique.

"Here you go. Watch out now! That skillet is hot." Nikki placed the special wood holder with the metal skillet in front of him, distracting Cliff from his book. He was reading the newest Honor Harrington universe novel tonight. Nikki was his favorite waitress here. Maybe it was because she was a bit heavy also. She was under one eighty, but still very obviously overweight. However, the real reason he liked her as a waitress was that she didn't place things out of reach. Some of the skinnier servers always placed the fresh drinks and other items on the far side of the table. That's where most of the open space usually was, but he had to squeeze up to the table and stretch to reach things. Short arms and way too much belly. Nikki was taking his empty salad plate and glass, while turning to go, when the light suddenly changed. The lights outside, from the other restaurants nearby, were dimmed.

"Sorry to interrupt, folks, but this is a pickup." The Marine came in from the side door where someone had just let him in. There seemed to be about six of them in sight, spreading around the restaurant near the exits.

Cliff was hoping that they wouldn't make him move. That steak looked really juicy tonight.

Before the Marine even finished his spiel, there were several loud pops. The Marine went down. Gunfire! It was multiple calibers and weapons from the sound of it. Cliff started to reach out to pull Nikki down out of the way, but he saw her take a hit to the chest and go down hard as a new gunshot exploded from slightly behind him, to the left. The shooter stepped past him, maybe not even seeing him in the high-backed booth. There were explosions from the far side of the room.

Cliff was barely even aware of them, as he had grabbed the metal steak skillet and the heavy steak knife, until he was out of the booth and moving. His left thumb was burning from the heat but he was already moving on the shooter, who took that moment to eject a magazine and reload. Cliff had not even noticed that the shooter had continued firing as he moved past him. He was only aware of Nikki on the ground, the facts that he was moving and that he had about two hundred pounds on the shooter. He was spotted as he got to within three feet and the gun hand started to swing around to the shooter's right. The steak and the hot metal plate went into the shooter's face as Cliff smashed into him. The shooter's gun arm went up as the sizzling steak hit him in the face. Cliff's steak knife went deep into the shooter's armpit.

As Cliff and the shooter went down, Cliff was hit in the left shoulder by what had to be a sledgehammer. He spun as he fell and saw another shooter shooting at him. He was hit again and again, and maybe a few more times. His side, his hip, his belly. Dang! Looked like he wasn't going to get any Swarm, after all. He could see the new shooter as he came forward. The gun came up. The muzzle was right in front of his face, less than three feet away. It was another automatic pistol. He could see the rifling inside the barrel. Then the gunman dropped it and collapsed. A Marine in a crouch slipped up, pressed his weapon to the shooter's temple and zapped the gunman again. He looked at Cliff and Nikki, grimaced, and moved on. Cliff heard a quick, "Sorry, guy," as he went by.

Cliff tried to move but his belly and his entire left side were on fire. He could feel the strength running out of him. He turned his head and saw past the body of the first shooter to where another Earth First punk was using a modified Tec 9 or some such machine pistol in full auto mode. His eyes suddenly focused on the first shooter's pistol, laying just a few feet from his head. Hell, he was dying anyway. He might as well try for another one. He stretched his right arm out to the gun and nearly passed out. Not yet, please, not yet. He got the pistol under his hand, gripped it, but he could not raise it. He tipped it up, resting the butt on the ground. The bolt was still locked back from the reloading. He slipped his thumb into place and let the slide go forwards. He got a good grip and aimed as best as he could from his position on his back, with the gun butt still on the ground. Maybe he could get an ankle. When he pulled the trigger, the recoil lifted the gun and his arm up into the air a few inches. He was loosing those few inches almost as fast as he could recover his aim back onto the target. He shot again, and again, just putting all of the bullets into the general area of the gunman. He couldn't see him anymore anyway. The slide locked back and all he heard was silence. It was dark too.

"Ok, Mr. Buckley. Time to wake up." The voice was way too cheery. It was too early in the morn... Wait. That's not right.

"What? Where am I?" Cliff was disoriented, but he knew that he wasn't home. He opened his eyes and he was seeing institutional walls and various pieces of technical equipment.

"You're on the pod ship 'Blue Moon' and this is Medical section four. You're all done here, though." The speaker was a briskly efficient, curvy young lady with hooters from hell. She was wearing a completely see through version of a nurse's uniform from maybe forty years ago, complete with the cap. She had underwear on, but it was clear as well, except for a white garter belt and stockings.

"What happened? I seem to remember that there was a gunfight. I thought I was dead."

"There was. You were. You got better." The nurse had a hint of a smile.

"Obviously. Ok, what all got better, or maybe I should ask, how bad was it?" He started the process of swinging a leg off of the table, or whatever he was on, so that he could use the leverage to swing himself up. Effortless sit-ups were a thing of the long, long ago past. Surprisingly though, when the nurse gently lifted on his arm, he popped right up. He knew right away. They had fixed something, maybe a lot of somethings.

"Well, you got shot six times. Your left shoulder was smashed. So was the hip. You had two smashed ribs and your entire left side was a mess. Your left tibia was shot through, with a lot of muscle damage as well. Your right thigh had a through and through, which took out about two pounds of flesh along with it, and while you were lying on the ground, you took one round in the groin that ended up in your intestines. Uhh, it's completely fixed now, but your penis was shot completely off. You lost a LOT of blood. Don't worry, we fixed everything."

"Ok, thanks. What now? Oh, damn! Nikki's dead." Cliff wasn't sure how recovered he was from the recent medical procedures, but for some reason, his eyes were watering.

"Oh. The waitress? Is she a friend of yours? She's fine. She only got shot once and we got her in a tube right away. We had to replace her right lung, fix her shoulder, rebuild her shoulder blade and do some other work, but she's back on Earth already. She didn't want to come as a concubine, and we lost enough Volunteers down there anyway that we didn't really need her."

"She's alive? Great! No, she's not really a friend. I just know her from the restaurant. But, you know, she's someone I know. Ok, What's next? And where are my glasses?"

"We fixed your eyes. Your glasses are raw materials now. Umm, Marine Sergeant Peters will be here in a bit to explain things. Let's get you walking for a few steps, and get you used to your new legs."

Cliff slid off of the exam table and noticed some differences right away. His legs were lighter. Surprisingly, he had never had bad knees or hips, but his legs were huge and heavy. The right leg was quite a bit bigger than the left. Now, they felt fine, lightweight, fit. He lifted his knee up and touched it to his chest, easily. He looked down. There was a LOT less belly there. Unfortunately, there was also a lot less clothing than he was used to wearing in public as well. As in none, nada, zip. He spotted something else. Well, THAT was an improvement. He felt his face turning the color of a beet as he realized that he had about a seven-inch hard on sprouting in front of the nurse. "Uhh, sorry. I can't help it. It uhh, looks like they put back more than got shot off."

"Don't worry about it. I can't help you with that without orders, but it's just a standard morning hard-on. The order was to 'fix everything' since you helped out down there. Do you want the full list?"

"Uhh, just the big items, and the obvious things. I had a lot of things going bad."

"Ok, top to bottom. Your dandruff is gone. Eyes I mentioned already. You had a small infection in your ear, and we repaired the damage from that as well as taking your hearing back to your teenaged ability. Teeth are all reset to brand new, no cavities or fillings. Hypothyroid, fixed. Your weight loss should fix the sleep apnea. Your esophagus had some acid scaring, now fixed. You did NOT get an overall age reset, but we fixed your heart, and your bowels. You had some polyps as well as the bullet damage. Also, we had to do some work on your prostate. We fixed the venous insufficiency in your legs, which was the reason for the size difference and the excessive size. We repaired all of your skin conditions and scars, but we left the right leg birthmark, since it shows up on your birth certificate and other records. We did a little work on the right shoulder so it's now in the same condition as the rebuilt left one. We did the same with the right hip. We fixed your cholesterol, adjusted your tendency towards diabetes and cleaned up your arteries. We took off two hundred fifteen pounds of fat and redid your muscles and skin to match. We fixed that back curvature problem. We even did some work on your toenails. And yes, we gave you two more inches than it looked like you had originally. Oh, and you have a minimum dose of nanites that will be with you for some time. No viruses or cancers for a few years at least. You would be in quite a bit of discomfort from a lot of the repairs, but you've been under for days, so most of that is already gone." Cliff was in shock at the list. The weight loss put him below his Army Basic Training weight. His back had been a constant pain for years. His toenails? He looked down. Yup. They looked more 'normal' now. First time he had seen them without contortions in years.

"Here's Sgt. Peters," said the cute nurse.

Cliff looked up and saw the same Marine that had passed him after he got shot.

"Sgt. Peters? Thanks for picking that guy off before he executed me."

"No problem. Thank YOU for distracting that guy with the machine pistol and taking down the other two," the Sergeant had a big smile as he delivered his thanks.

Cliff thought for a second. "Two? I got the guy with the knife, and I shot at the machine pistol. Who else?"

"Well, you missed him, but the bullets were hitting the booth wall all around him and he ducked. One of your rounds went through the booth and hit another guy on the far side. Your rounds were all armor piercers and it was just foam and light plywood. You nicked him in the gun arm. He dropped it. That gave us time to get them both. We would have won the fight without you, but it would have taken longer and the casualties would have been worse." The Sgt. was losing his cheery look.

"How bad was it?"

"We lost two Marines and four more wounded. Volunteers were three dead and six wounded. Other people present, eight dead, twelve wounded. They had grenades."

"How many of them were there. That's four so far, but if your people took that many casualties...?"

"Fourteen. We were completely set up. The birthday party in the back was supposed to be for some tech people that we wanted. We later found them all with their families in their homes, dead. The bad guys had their cards. They had another six people planted in the main room. Also, they had one person that had infiltrated the restaurant staff. He replaced an assistant manager who was on maternity leave. He transferred in from another location about a month ago and he had smuggled in some weapons."

"Hmm, that would have been Sarah, out on leave. And the new guy would have been that skinny, blonde guy. I don't know his name. I just saw him the last couple of weeks. Ok, so I have two questions. What's next for me, and can I get some pants?"

Sgt. Peters broke out in laughter. "Nurse Hottie, would you get him some pants, please?" The nurse gave a little ass wiggle as she stepped into another room.

"Nurse Hottie? Seriously?"

"That's what she and her sponsor decided on."

"Well, it certainly fits."

"She's a Fleet Auxiliary man's concubine but she's also a qualified nurse, so her sponsor has her helping out in the Medical section." Sgt Peters was recovering his good humor.

The nurse stepped back in with a pair of running shorts. She squatted down and held them out for him to step into. She could barely pull them up over his erection, which had pumped back up when she put her face six inches away from it. She slipped a couple of flip-flops onto his feet as well.

"Ok, walk with me." The sergeant directed Cliff down the hall to another room outfitted with desks and display screens. They sat down.

"The Lieutenant was very happy with the way that you helped out. You gained us time, and that got us out in time to save a lot of people. You included. We brought up all of the wounded and put them in pods. You wouldn't have lasted for the ambulance. You probably wouldn't have made it unless the shooting happened in an emergency room, according to our docs here. You saved at least one Marine from dying and maybe more. You probably didn't realize that the first grenade took down the Marine that was setting up the transporter. We couldn't leave, and we couldn't get fast reinforcements. The Lt's order for you was 'Fix him' which gave the doc some leeway to put you in pretty decent shape. You have two main options. You can stay on board as a spare concubine. That means that you have until two days after we leave orbit to find someone to take you on. The odds of that, in my opinion, are poor. We just have little need for extra male concubines. The second option is we put you back. You never volunteered or agreed to be a concubine, so we can do that. You'll have some problems because you were in a big gunfight and people are dead. Also, the story of what you did, you specifically, that is, got out. There is cell phone footage on the web, somehow. Earth First might go gunning for you. You look nothing like your ID now, due to the weight issue. You have missed maybe five days of work. You'll need a complete new wardrobe. Who knows what other problems will develop? Now, The good news is that the local police do seem to be friendly, we can help financially a little bit and we can provide several changes of clothes that will fit."

"Yeah, I think that makes more sense for me. Even with Earth First. Besides, I never got that steak."

"Ok, Mr. Buckley. I think that's everything. We can reach you at this number if we have more questions?" Tukwila PD had indeed been friendly, and so had the King County prosecutor's office. The perpetrators were all deceased, several of them had previous criminal records and they were guilty of the deaths of over twenty people in their homes even before the 'birthday party' even started. There was no wish to do more than take statements and close the case.

"Yeah. I haven't been home yet, but you should be able to reach me there or on my cell." He looked at his newly issued driver's license and CAP card. "I wonder how much problem the landlord is going to have believing this."

The police detective gave him a card. "If you have any problems with law enforcement about what happened, give me a call. DON'T just flash this card like a get out of jail free. That'll just irritate most officers, but you can call me when you get the chance and I'll see what I can do. This is the case number here."

"Thanks. Hopefully, we won't meet again." Cliff smiled to show that he meant that as a joke and a fervent wish, not an insult.

The door to the manager's apartment opened and she looked out. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"I know this is hard to believe, but I'm Cliff, from fifty-seven."

"Yeah, right."

"No, Really. Here's my ID, and I have the keys. I just wanted to let you know so you didn't freak when you saw me in my apartment."

"Get off the premises before I call the police."

"Two weeks ago, I loaned you my DVD with Buster Keaton in 'The General'. You haven't given it back yet. Thanksgiving you invited me over for dinner. I made the hot cranberry tea punch. I got shot to pieces, Friday night. The Confederacy put me back together, even better than I started out as."

"Even if you're who you say you are, I want you gone. I don't want hoodlums in my place."

"Mrs. Kimble, THEY shot ME! If you try to kick me out, you'll need to evict me." When the door slammed in his face, Cliff stalked off to his apartment.

Cliff saw the blue and red light flashes through his window before he heard the knocks on the door. Grabbing his wallet from the desk on his way, he opened the door. The police officers were standing to either side of the door in the approved 'Don't get shot like a dummy as the door opens' position.

"Good evening, Officers. I thought she might call you. Here is my ID. I live here. You can see that I have my old Driver's License with the W punched through it. And here is the new one. It was just issued today. New picture and new weight, but everything else is the same. Oh, I don't need glasses anymore."

"We have a report that someone is trespassing in this apartment."

"Officers, you're free to enter and look around. I've only been back for an hour. Look, I assume that you are familiar with the activity in the steak joint in Tukwila last Friday?" At their nods, he continued and told them the gist of the story. Shot up by Earth First, rebuilt by the Confederacy, dumped back here. "So, here I am, in an apartment that the manager wants me to move out of, with a bunch of clothes that don't fit. I'll start looking for a new place tomorrow as soon as I see if I still have a job."

"How do we know that you're the guy that actually lives here?"

"Well, Tukwila PD helped me get the new ID in an expedited manner. You could ask them. I've got a concealed weapons permit with my thumbprint on it. You could match that to the permanent records, wherever they keep those. You could also check my thumbprint against the one on this permit. I was printed for the Army as well, but that was over thirty years ago. DNA? Hair samples in the hairbrush and on my pillow. I hadn't changed my sheets for a couple of days before I got shot and I just got back. Hey, I actually have something else that might help."

Cliff went to a bookshelf and pulled down a couple of slim volumes. He presented them to the officers. "My high school yearbook and my Army basic training book. I look a lot older now, but these pictures look more like me than the one on my old ID. I haven't been this weight since eight grade."

"You said that you're planning to move?"

"Well, I didn't want to, but if she decides she doesn't want me, she can make life miserable for me. It will be a pain finding someplace decent though. I've been here ten years and I pay about one hundred less a month than the other tenants that are just moving in. I still have to check in with my work and see if I still have a job. If she really wants me gone though, I'm making her jump through the legal hoops, just so I have time to find someplace."

"We'll talk to her. Don't go giving her grief though. We don't want to come back."

"Ok, that's all of my old uniforms except that stupid clip tie and my baseball hats. Nothing else fits anymore."

"Ok, sit down and we'll go over your options." Mark Brewster could not get over the changes in Cliff. Obviously, he had lost a huge amount of weight, but he looked so much better in other ways. He stood straighter and didn't have to lean on the walls and desks. The weight loss in the face and the absence of his glasses made him unrecognizable. "Cliff, unfortunately, we just can't put you back at your site. The client is happy that you're Ok. They would take you back except for the publicity. They're a high profile company and they got mentioned in the paper about the shooting. You know, 'Security guard involved in tragic massacre. Guard worked at local corporation. Blah, blah, blah.' They are actually fighting a small boycott attempt because of that and we will be losing them as a client. They need to distance themselves. We're working a deal with them; a small independent firm will take over our guards for a few years and that will let us stay in the loop, but our name goes off of the contract. These Earth First sympathizers are gaining ground and people are running scared. Look, how fit are you now?"

"Pretty good. They fixed every thing that I knew was wrong with me, and some things that I didn't know about. They even took out the two coronary stents and rebuilt my blood vessels and arteries. I went for a short run this morning. I just had to burn off some energy. The muscles need tone and my stamina is still low, but... Think of me as still being fifty plus, but with an absolutely guaranteed, clean bill of health. "

"Ok, we've had you before as a field supervisor and a site supervisor and you always did well at that. I'm going to use you as a float for a bit, but I want you to try out for the armed position. We've got a position opening up in a few weeks and it will take at least that long for the state license to come through. Uhmm, unless that gunfight freaked you too much?"

"No. I think I can handle that. I'll need to practice, first, though. Thanks for the chance."

Well, THAT was embarrassing. Go to the clothing store, spend forty-five minutes picking out clothes and then realize you are in your usual Big & Tall shop. Since you are no longer Big and were never Tall, put everything back while the clerk gives you funny looks. THEN go to a regular department store and have no clue what size even your underwear is. Well, at least shopping for clothes was done for a bit. Work was dealt with for now. He hadn't missed any bill payments. Medical insurance did not cover him, because he had left the country for his treatment. He could have used the reimbursement for four days in the hospital even if he didn't have any actual medical bills. State Industrial didn't cover him as it was not an on the job injury.

New apartment. That was going to take a bit of searching to find something convenient, affordable, and spacious enough for his six thousand paperbacks. Hmmm, time for dinner. It had been a week now. Steak, no salad bar.

"Hello, what can I get for you?"

"I'd like a medium-rare flatiron steak, with the broccoli."

"And what would you like to drink?"

"Half iced tea and half Sierra Mist."

The girl at the register gave him a funny look for a half second before taking his card. "May I see your ID, please?"

As she looked down at the two pieces of plastic, Cliff made his standard reply. "Thank you for asking."

The girl froze, looked very hard at the plastic and then up at his face. "Umm, excuse me for a moment." She started to turn away from the register.

"It's me, Anna. The Marines patched me up better than new after I got shot. I don't look the same, because I'm about half the size I used to be."

Anna thought for a moment. "Why do you say thank you every time I ask you for your ID?"

Cliff knew that he had told several people here. "I lost a checkbook. The lady that found it passed all ten blank checks on the same day. Only one place took down her driver's license info on the check and it didn't match my name at all. She told them I was her boyfriend and they just let her write the check."

Anna nodded and smiled. "That's the same story. I'm really glad you're ok. Enjoy your meal."

"Hello, Cliff."

"Nikki! I'm so glad to see you. I thought that you were dead. And you look great!"

"Thanks. They tell me I owe that to you. The not being dead I mean. And you clean up pretty well yourself now. They didn't do much to me. Just the repairs and they took about forty pounds off. I could stand to lose some more, but there was a time situation."

"Doesn't matter. You look great. You decided not to leave the planet?"

"Well, it was go into the pool of availables. I'd like to choose my owner. Luckily, I never asked to get picked up, so they had to put me back."

"Yeah, me too."

"So, no salad bar tonight?"

"No, uhh, my eyes still want the full meal, but I need to cut down or I'll be back the way I was again. I'll probably need to go to some weight loss thing for the counseling or something."

"Don't do that. My sister, Kate, works at a hypnotherapy clinic. She's not really supposed to do anything outside of the clinic, but she had a session with me this week for the same thing, and I can already tell the difference. I owe you. And I'm her favorite only sister."

The assistant manager stepped up to the table with another guy that Cliff didn't recognize. When he spoke, all he said was "Sorry, Cliff."

The other guy asked, "Clifford R. Buckley?" Cliff had a bad moment when he saw the guy bringing something up into his field of view. He flashed on his .45, back in the apartment, before he saw the papers in the guy's hands. "You're served," he said. He gave a quick list of the documents in the stack before he left the building. All that Cliff really heard was 'temporary order of protection' and 'restraining order'.

He spread the documents out, but he had problems focusing on them. He looked up at Armando, the ass't manager. "What's this?"

"New manager. He had corporate file the papers. Cliff, you can't come here anymore. Ever, if they have their way. Until the court hearing, if they lose. Also, you can't contact any of our employees. You'll have to leave right now. The process server is supposed to call the cops as soon as he leaves. I'll send out a box for the steak." Armando turned and left. Nikki stalked off after him. She was really ticked off.

Another server brought the carry out box to his table and Cliff boxed up his steak and left, leaving a tip as usual. It wasn't Nikki's fault after all. As he got to his car, Nikki ran out of the restaurant, calling his name. He waited beside his car for her.

"Cliff, I need to give you my number. Uhh, can you wait for a few minutes? I got so mad that I quit. Could you give me a lift home?"

"Uhh, sure. No car?"

"I car pooled with Anna. Just let me grab my stuff."

"Ok. Hey, don't forget your tip."

"This is the place. Why don't you come on in for a few minutes? I have some sun tea and you can eat your steak at a table while I grab some salad. Ohh, come on! I need to calm down before I go pick up my kids at my sister's."

"I'm going to miss these steaks. You always gave good service there, too."

"Cliff. Do you like me?"

"Well, yeah!" Cliff turned to look straight at Nikki. She had changed out of her uniform into something more flattering, a skirt and halter-top combination. Her shiny brown hair was down instead of up in the bun that she wore at work. She was still just a few pounds overweight by normal conventions, but Cliff never had liked the Twiggy look. Right now she was looking at him in a way that he only really recognized from TV and distant memory. She had undone two buttons on the front of the top and there was only one left. He stood and walked over to her.

"Are you sure? I'm really out of practice and I was never that great a catch anyway."

"Shh. I've got three hours before my sister calls to find out where I am. We can practice until then."

(Six months later)

Nikki had called her sister and the kids had stayed the night; so had Cliff. When the eviction paperwork came through, Nikki made him move in with her. The counter suit had meant that he did not have to actually move out, but he settled for getting his damage deposit, security deposit, lawyer's fees and the manager had to pay his moving costs. It seems that evicting someone because he is a victim of a crime can be a form of discrimination when the crime has political and hate crimes overtones. Kate had indeed helped him a lot with his overeating problems. Nikki helped with their mutual exercise program as well. No, not that! Well, that too, but they were running together and bicycling as a family with the kids.

Today was Nikki's daughter Carrie's birthday and both families were going to the new Pixar animated movie. Carrie would be having a sleepover with eight more twelve-year-olds in three more hours. Cliff and nine-year-old Jeremy would be heading to Kate's house in full male rout mode. For now, three adults and four kids, aged six to twelve, cost a fortune in tickets, popcorn and sodas, but it was worth it. Unfortunately, they would never see it in this theater.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention?" It was another blasted Confederacy pickup. Cliff instantly positioned the family behind him, into a corner of the wall as he started scanning for threats. He was armed this time, and no one was going to hurt this family. His family. Nothing happened though; no gunmen. He suddenly realized that the Marines were asking for people to disarm themselves. He raised a hand high and got a Marine's attention. Once he had that, he pulled his jacket aside, showing his .45, which he then carefully pulled out, ejected the clip and worked the slide, removing the round in the chamber. All of the time, he was still scanning the crowd.

The approaching Marine reached his side, taking the weapon. Then he stopped. "Clifford Buckley? May I see your CAP card, please?"

"Sure. Not quite good enough. Better than it was though." Cliff presented his new Card. He had received it a month ago, after Nikki persuaded him to go in for retesting. His 4.9 was now a 5.6. According to the AI, some of that was his improved medical condition, but mostly it was a shift in attitudes. The AI had encouraged him to come back in another year. Nikki had gone from a 5.1 to a 5.5 as well.

"Yeah. But I was just verifying that you were the same person as the card indicated." He handed the pistol back. "Feel free to load it up. The Lt. says you're safe and we can use the extra eyes. You'll just need to surrender it if you get into a Harem."

"Not much chance of that. I'm not leaving unless I can go with Nikki and her kids. And, well, who needs guys in their Harems?"

"Women do, buster!" Kate had stepped up behind him. She handed her card to the Marine." I get two."

"Yes, Ma'am, you do. I see you're signed up for Fleet Auxiliary. When you get up to the ship, you will be diverted to an entrance interview. The ship's Captain believes in poaching people if possible. When you have your selections made, take them over to the video game area. Good luck." The good luck seemed to be aimed at Cliff as much as at Kate.

Cliff turned to look at Kate and spotted Nikki, already mostly nude, just behind her. Both were smiling. "Uhh, You have a good CAP score I take it? You're taking Nikki?"

"Yes, and yes. No one except Nikki knew, because, well, your shootout is part of the reason. And your eviction, as well. Nikki has agreed to share you. Well, the three of us will share a bed. Nikki and I, uhh, when we were teenagers. Well, she's already had her test drive. However, we are both more straight than bi. So, I need... We need a stud, and in two years, so will Carrie. She's got a crush on you. You saved her Mom's life, after all. So if you're interested, strip and show me what you got. Let's start with oral." Kate started taking her own clothes off with Nikki helping as Cliff finally got with the program.