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Elsewhere, teams moved into various positions. The plan was to herd everybody to a couple of locations and process them as quickly as possible, transporting 'family' groups as soon as they were created. As a result, the fairground perimeter was covered; there were three drones overhead to allow for subdividing things as necessary to maintain control.
Captain McPherson, commander of Bravo Company, Second Battalion, Seventh Marine Brigade, made his way with his XO to the control booth from which the fair's loudspeaker system was controlled. Despite planning, CPT McPherson was certain that this was going to be a total disaster -- but he'd gotten greedy and volunteered, so Bravo Company was stuck with the mission -- and in ninety seconds, planning and execution were going to diverge... "Ninety seconds, people. Start digging out those armbands." Since they couldn't wear uniforms, and they had masses of people to interact with, it had been decided that armbands with the Confederacy Marine sigil and the individual's rank on them would act to identify them to 'civilians'. Undoubtedly, it would also make them targets... Troops all over the perimeter dug in pockets and purses and recovered the armbands, awaiting the fifteen- second mark to put them on. In the meantime, CPT McPherson, 1LT Briggs, and 1SG Watkins took over the booth...
"Pardon me," CPT McPherson told a startled fair official, "I have a few announcements to make if you don't mind..."
The official, a florid individual about sixty years old, started to huff -- but 1SG Watkins cut him off. "That means get up, in case you didn't realize it. The Captain likes to handle things gently. I'm more direct, though -- you've got until I get to you to get out of that chair..."
"Now see here!" the man blustered. LT Briggs had the other booth occupant trapped in a corner; when the official looked in his direction for assistance, it became clear that it wasn't forthcoming. "You can't..."
Watkins had him by the shirt collar by then. "Guess again, Bub. We're trying to be polite, here, but this is a Marine operation..."
"Marines?" The man went white. "Here? There will be chaos!"
"We're hoping that won't be the case," McPherson said mildly. "Your assistance would be greatly appreciated."
"Yes, yes, of course..." The official started dealing with the changed circumstances. "If I could see some identification?"
Watkins was ready to frog-march him out of there, but McPherson merely handed the man his ID. "Certainly, Captain," The man muttered. "Do you wish to use the intercom, or would you prefer to speak through me?"
"We're properly prepped." McPherson eyed his watch, "AND behind schedule. ALL HANDS, EXECUTE! EXECUTE! EXECUTE!" he passed on the company's internal net. The AIs triggered the drones...
... and from inside the fairground, the view of the surroundings shifted to shades of grey...
Before the reaction got too far advanced, McPherson got on the PA system, "Ladies and Gentlemen, if I may have your attention, please! You are about to participate in a historic experiment -- in an effort to speed things, we plan to attempt to fill a transport today from this site! Please remain calm and cooperate with my troops -- they can be identified by their armbands. We have a lot of work to do and can't really put up with anything serious in the way of a disturbance, so I'm asking you now to follow our instructions and try not to start any trouble -- and I think you'll be pleased with the results!" He shut off the mike and turned to Lt Briggs. "XO?"
"I make it seven hundred thirteen and a hundred forty nine, Sir," Briggs replied, studying his sensor relay.
McPherson keyed the mike. "According to our data, there are seven hundred thirteen male and a hundred forty nine female volunteers here with us on site -- if you would make yourselves known to the nearest Marine, we'll see to it that you're not molested in any way while we conduct the next phase of things. People, I know that many of you are in family groups -- while you may wish to take your spouse with you, you are under NO OBLIGATION to do so -- but if you already have a group of dependents sorted out, we'll be happy to honor it." He took a breath. "As for everyone else -- if your last name begins with A through H, please report to the amphitheater. If your last name begins with I through Q, please report to the sales barn. All others, please report to the ring where the riding events are held. Thank you in advance for your cooperation." He shut off the mike. "And so it begins..."
The official scurried up. "I took notes -- if you would like, I can repeat the instructions at intervals..."
"Very well," McPherson nodded. Turning to 1SG Watkins, he said, "Top, please mind the store here -- we may need to change things on the fly. You can pass further instructions to this gentleman..."
"Aye, Sir!" Watkins gave the official the fisheye, but made no move.
"Let's go, XO," McPherson muttered, and led Briggs out.
Transporters appeared at the designated sites as the Captain made his pitch over the PA, placed there by Marines waiting for the signal. Immediately, teams lugging equipment stepped through the portal and began setting up. "Wow!" Lisa exclaimed, "What are they doing?"
"We can't go through the usual rigamarole," Ed told her, "so we're going to try something different. You'll see." He put her on her feet. "I need my hands now."
"Do I stay with you?" Lisa asked.
"That's up to you, Honey. You do what you think is best," Ed advised.
"What if I want to?" Lisa asked, her eyes serious.
"Then, yeah, I'll take you," Ed gusted. Turning to Mindy, he added, "Both of you." Mindy looked mildly confused until Lisa crooked a finger, then she glanced up at Mike and backed away. Mike just nodded; he wasn't sure he wanted the responsibility she entailed -- besides, he HAD his quota... "Stay out of my way, but within reach," Ed instructed. "If things drop in the pot, I might need to move fast -- and I'll want you right behind me!"
"Yes, sir!" Lisa nodded, all business.
"Don't call me 'Sir' -- I work for a living!" Ed snapped.
Lisa looked confused, but Mike rescued her. "Officers are 'Sir' -- we're not officers."
"Oh..."
"Don't worry, you'll catch on." Mike swept his gaze across the ring -- "Don't bug us now -- we need to work..."
Peter Wilson stood in the dusty parking lot, staring at the wall of energy that robbed the color from the fairgrounds before him. It was ironic; ever since he'd hit six point six on his annual CAP retest (these took less than fifteen minutes, as a rule, given the stored base data on the individual involved -- and they gave some people hope, so they were allowed once every twelve months when everyone who was going to test in an area had done so) he and his wife Beth had been virtually inseparable -- to the point that she had quit her job, and they ran all of their errands together. Now, they happened upon an unexpected but absolutely perfect situation -- but they were on the outside of the barrier!
"No fair?" Little Paulette, who was riding his left hip, asked.
"Yeah," Peter grunted. "No fair." He turned sadly away from the fairgrounds and began trudging back toward his car, thinking glumly, 'No fair at all... '.
"Excuse me -- Mr. Wilson? Mr. Peter Wilson?"
Peter looked up; a tall, muscular guy in a brush cut stood beside him. "Yes?"
"May I speak with you -- in private?"
"My wife can hear anything you have to say..." Peter blustered.
"Please, Sir -- it's best if we spoke privately for just the moment -- then by all means..." The man waved him away.
Peter put Paulette down and turned to Beth. "I'll be right back." Then he trudged off to where the irritating fellow was standing.
"May I see your CAP card, sir?" the guy asked.
"Why?" Peter wanted to know.
"Surely you're aware of what's going on..." the guy said, eyeing him, his head cocked.
"Painfully!" Peter rasped. "And I'm ALSO painfully aware that I'm on the wrong side of the barrier!" Everybody knew that if you were on the outside, you STAYED on the outside...
"Yes, Sir -- but that's not an ordinary pickup -- and the ordinary rules don't apply," the guy retorted with just a touch of impatience.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that you don't have to STAY on this side of the barrier..." The guy pulled out HIS ID -- and it was clearly that of a Marine!
Peter's hand flashed to his back pocket. "Really?"
"I was stationed out here to pick up stragglers," the Marine told him while observing his card. "Come with me and I'll open it up."
"What about my family?" Peter asked.
"You can take your wife, your children -- either or both -- or none," the Marine replied. "That's why I asked you to step away -- to avoid any embarrassment, if..."
"I want my family," Peter asserted. "ALL of it."
"Fine," the Marine replied. "I hope your, uh, spouse, realizes that she's about to be demoted. There is no such thing in the Confederacy. She'll be a concubine -- one of two, in your case."
"Yes, well," Peter muttered, "We'll deal with it."
"Very good. Please collect them and follow me."
Somewhat dazed, Peter returned to his family and returned little Paulette to his hip. "Come along, everyone."
"Where are we going, Daddy?" Paulette asked.
"To the fair, Sweetie. To the fair." Taking Beth's hand, he led her off to their new life.
"Here I am!" SSG French glanced up as a handsome blond boy entered his presence waving a CAP card, with six giggling girls of varying descriptions in tow. 'Oh, an easy one!' was his first thought -- but his data link said otherwise. There were several CAP cards in range -- and none of them sported an eight point five, or even a six...
"Let me see that," he told the boy, taking the card. Verifying it took but a moment; SSG French took another few seconds to do a scan of the boy before snapping the card in half. "Counterfeit. Now, sir, if I might see your real card? I believe it is in your wallet..." Turning his head while the boy fished in his wallet, SSG French called, "Corporal Potter!"
A statuesque redhead fully six and a half feet tall came quickly forward. She was wearing the uniform of the day -- that is to say, not much -- a miniskirt and her armband -- and the boy ogled her high, proud breasts. "This one is a counterfeiter," SSG French announced. "Do the honors, won't you?"
"Yes, Sergeant." She dug under her jean skirt, which flipped up neatly to display a holster around her thigh with several pen-shaped devices hanging from it. Retrieving one, she turned to the boy. "Look this way, please..."
The boy looked in the direction she was pointing and she pressed the object against his shoulder. There was a snick and a hiss. "Ow!" The boy jumped and glared at CPL Potter angrily. "What was that?"
SSG French eyed the boy. "Do you have any idea what the penalty for falsifying a CAP card is?" he asked, glancing at the boy's CAP card, "Mr. Duane Ellis?"
"No." The boy shrugged indifferently. Jail time, maybe, he figured. 'Pop will fix it... ' 'Pop' was T. Beckwith Ellis, and he was a Big Man Around Town; Duane had been in trouble before, and Pop had always managed to paper it over...
"Counterfeiting a CAP card always seems to travel in company with other offenses," SSG French mused aloud. "I figure I'm looking at six counts of fraud..." he continued, eyeing the girls.
Dee Dee Whitaker frowned. "What's going on? Why did you break Duane's card?"
Marissa Skomp tossed her blonde ponytail angrily. "We've been had, Dee Dee! Duane lied to us!"
"What?" Dee Dee turned to glare at Duane. The other four girls started murmuring among themselves.
CPL Potter nodded. "Duane lied to you, girls. His CAP score is two point four. How many of you gave him your virginity, thinking he was an eight plus?" Five of six girls raised embarrassed hands -- the exception being Marissa.
"I was right," SSG French nodded. "Six cases of fraud, five cases of theft of virginity through misrepresentation... That's a big black mark for your headstone, Son."
"What do you mean?" Duane asked.
CPL Potter glared at him. "The penalty for using a counterfeit CAP card for any purpose is death by lethal injection!"
Duane blanched. "You mean... ?"
"The poison is a paralytic agent," CPL Potter spat. "You probably can't move now; in fifteen minutes, you'll stop breathing."
"What about a trial?" Duane gasped.
"No need -- we have six witnesses," SSG French replied. "The law has been on the books for months. You were guilty before the girls fingered you for taking their cherries under false pretenses."
Duane lost his balance and toppled forward onto his face, then gave vent to a muffled shriek. "OW!"
CPL Potter spurned him with a foot, turning him over onto his back. "As you can see, girls, he can still feel pain. The law allows you to take your vengeance upon him for what he's done to you; you can do as you like with him for what little time he has left. He'll feel it all -- he's going to die of suffocation."
Dee Dee grimaced. "Come on, Marissa -- I can't do anything to him while he's like that, no matter WHAT he did..."
SSG French shrugged. "Whatever. We'll be posting a sign, so the paramedics don't try to revive him. You should all head for the collection areas to try to get a REAL sponsor..."
"Thank you, sir!" Dee Dee replied. The other four were already wandering off. "Come on, Marissa -- we have to get to the ring!"
"One second," Marissa replied. "You may be civilized, but I'm not..." Deliberately, she stepped up close to Duane and jumped -- landing on his left arm with both feet. It took three tries, but there was a sickening snap... "That's for my ass, asshole!" she hissed, and walked around to his other side while Duane tried to bawl and beg for mercy. The right forearm snapped on the second try. "And that's for Dee-Dee..." Gathering herself she leaped onto his chest...
CPL Potter, smiling grimly, looked on; she'd been a victim in her time...
The Wilsons followed Private Witherspoon -- the Marine -- about a quarter of the way around the fairgrounds before he stopped and started speaking quietly -- to nothing, apparently. But suddenly a section of the field sank back behind the rest of the wall, opening what looked like some kind of passage. "Follow things around to the left," the PVT told Peter. "Someone will take charge of you inside and direct you to the collection point. Good luck!"
"Thank you!" Peter put out his hand and Witherspoon smiled and shook it, then waved them forward. Peter led his family inside into an area between two field walls, one of which ended shortly, leaving them standing at the edge of an area in relative chaos. They were inside!
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