Chosen FrozenChapter 22 Operation Harvester
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Chosen Frozen IIChapter 14: Dig This free porn video
Professor Stanley P. Keeler splashed water from the washbasin onto his arms, making a feeble attempt at cleanliness. This site in Alaska was far from clean, however, and it would take more than a simple splash to make him clean again. He sighed as he looked around the excavation.
So many of the best and brightest students were avoiding archaeology nowadays, preferring to specialize in studies thought to be far more tempting to the Confederacy. Also, it was becoming difficult to get competent grad students to accompany him on these field expeditions. Everyone wanted to be near Confederacy pickup points, and being in an isolated spot like this, deep in the wilderness, was not exactly thought to be a great spot for a pickup. He headed for his tent to start cataloguing the finds of the day. As he did so, he wondered who exactly would be studying this in the future. Was he wasting his time? Would anyone be interested in the Yukon and Alaska gold rushes, at a time when all the goodies you wanted were available from a replicator merely for the asking?
He was understandably startled when he opened the fly of his large tent to find his chair occupied by a rather large individual dressed in grey. The large newcomer regarded him with calm detachment as the other expedition members came running in response to his shout of surprise. "Would you have a moment?" was the only thing the calm, large, grey-clad man said.
"Um, yes," Stan found himself uttering.
"Very well, then." The large man stood up, having to crouch down due to the low overhead. Stan had been able to stand erect in the same space.
Outside, Stan found his expedition members regarding several large Confederacy Marines warily. The Marines, armed with imposingly large stun guns, were regarding them just as warily, although a handful armed with much smaller weapons were keeping their eyes pointed the other way. One, bearing a major's rank badges, had the ancient .303 rifle the expedition used to protect itself from grizzlies. The World War II weapon looked not unlike a child's toy in his massive paws.
The large man in grey led Stan to a small outcropping of granite. "Let me introduce myself. I am Tribune William Whitefeather from the Office of Targeted Extractions, of the Confederacy's Directorate of Evacuation and Colonial Operations. And I've been asked to present you with an offer that I'm hoping you cannot refuse."
"Um, oh?" Stan's brain cells were still not fully functional. They wanted him? "My CAP score is good enough for extraction, it's 6.8, but that's nothing outstanding. Why me?" he asked the obvious leader of the Confederacy forces. At that point, he was sure it wouldn't matter what the offer was, he was so cowed by this impressive Tribune's size he'd agree to anything just to keep this mountain of a man calm.
"Yes. You see, we have a very urgent call for an archaeologist at one of our colonies – it seems there was a previous civilization there that we know nothing about. If you're interested, we can have you on your way to the stars in just a few minutes. Interested?"
Was an archaeologist interested in exploring a previously unknown civilization? Whitefeather might has well have offered Keeler the keys to Fort Knox. "Of course I'm interested."
"Great. Now, I'm authorized to take any pre-pack you've got."
"That would be my wife Belinda. I haven't been able to collect a second. I honestly never thought I'd be extracted." He glanced at his watch and mentally adjusted the time zone back to Florida time. "She should be at work right now. She's a real estate broker in Dade County."
"Do you volunteer? You'll be a lieutenant in the Fleet Auxiliary."
"Yes. My wife?"
"She has a cell phone?"
"Yes, let me get on the satellite phone."
"Here," Whitefeather offered. "Use mine."
Undoubtedly, Stan realized, Whitefeather's "phone" had capabilities far beyond that of the standard cell phone. It was ringing even as he accepted it.
"Palmetto Properties," came the bright voice of his wife.
"Honey, are you busy at the moment?"
As he talked, Whitefeather and Major MacAllistor exchanged a look. Belinda Keeler's cell phone had been triangulated to the Miami suburb of Pinecrest, not six blocks from a Confederacy CAP testing centre. Their four children's Aventura-area schools had also been identified, and the children confirmed as being present according to the Miami-Dade County Public School System's computers. Subvocally, orders went up to the fleet to perform a dependant pickup.
"Yes, I've got a showing at two."
"Not anymore. Um, are you interested in going to the stars?"
Whitefeather could hear the screech of brakes from the tiny speaker in the PDA. Both he and Stan winced at the harsh sound, imagining the torture the brakes were undergoing. "What?" Belinda demanded. "You're joking."
"I'm serious. Do you want to be my concubine? Have more kids, like you've always wanted? I can take you."
"Yes. YES! What do I do? Where do I go? What about the kids?"
Whitefeather extended his massive paw. "May I?"
"Honey, someone's going to talk to you right now. I'll see you shortly."
"Mrs. Keeler? This is Tribune Whitefeather of the Confederacy. According to your cell phone, you're six blocks from a testing centre. Go there and identify yourself, and we'll extract you. Your kids are being extracted right now. You will be given one last chance to change your mind in the testing centre and if you agree, you'll meet with your kids and your former husband in orbit. Go to the testing centre now, please. Drive carefully!"
He turned to the archaeologist. "Now, you get at least one more, and because this is a targeted extraction, we can grant you a supernumerary." He looked at the four undergrads. "What have we got here?"
MacAlllistor regarded him sourly. "All concubine level. We couldn't take them all, could we?"
"Probably yes, but we'll class the extras as belonging to Thule as unassigned."
"In that case – ladies, sir, you have a choice: stay and be Swarm chow, or go and be chattel. If you're going, let's see some skin."
All four quickly doffed their duds and, as the mosquitoes moved in to feast on the newly-exposed flesh, moved quickly through the nexus.
Within four hours, Fleet Auxiliary Lieutenant Stanley Keeler and his harem were aboard the CSS Vasco da Gama, travelling at hyperspeed to Hesperus.
Carruthers glanced across the Officers' Mess, looking for one officer in particular. The mess, an Art-Deco masterpiece of streamlined architecture gleaming with black and white, was notably below normal occupancy today.
Thule always seemed loneliest every six weeks. One third of the fleet and one third of the Marines were on their way to Hesperus to relieve the garrison and fleet there. By the end of the week Thule would be back up to normal strength. The Marines took the six-week deployment harder than the Navy, as they had no concubines with them. As a result, when they got back they tended to party hard.
Ah, there she was. Carruthers noted the figure dressed in Full Dress grey, being served a mocktail by a scantily clad concubine waitress.
"Decurion Redburn," he acknowledged as he sat down opposite her. "I understand you have a special request for me."
"A small one," Samantha admitted as she sipped her Beach Blanket Bingo.
"Harvey Wallbanger," he advised the waitress, who hustled off to fill his order. "What kind of favour?"
"There's a new concubine coming in about three days. She and her four kids need a pod. Can you set one up near the other scientists' concubines in Base Scott?"
Base Scott was the naval base; Camp Shackleton was the home of the Marines.
"I don't see why not. I've got a couple of extra pods in that corridor."
"Good. You may need them both. Apparently they've got four archaeology students who are all concubines, in addition to the sponsor of the concubine who is coming here. Unfortunately with the archaeologist's scores, he can only take two with a supernumerary which leaves two unassigned, unless you can figure out a solution."
"Supernumeraries of the other scientists?" Carruthers suggested.
"Rules say only one per. And that rule makes sense. Any more and the guy likely doesn't have the skill set to handle them. We'll have at least two unassigned."
"Crew of the research ship?"
"No guarantee that they'll be permanently assigned to the Clarke. We don't need archaeologists everywhere she goes."
"Temporary supernumeraries of the Science crews? Their families are here. We can detach the extras later if necessary."
Samantha made a face. "I really don't like doing that. You want permanent families, because it's better for the kids, as well as the concubines. But I think it'll work to get us through this crisis, so I'll do it. It's only two – hopefully."
Newly enlisted Fleet Auxiliary Lieutenant Stanley Keeler stood in the centre of an immense dome located far beneath the Greater Sand Sea on Hesperus, looking in astonishment at the remains in front of his eyes. Beside him, a squad of Marines and the archaeology students extracted with him stood similarly awe-struck.
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