Chosen FrozenChapter 22 Operation Harvester
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Decurion Samantha Redburn arrived at the Medical Inspection Room at 03:42 hours as a result of an emergency summons. Navy corpsman Corporal Sheena James was on duty, and as it was a busy one, she'd requested assistance from all possible fronts.
"What the hell?" Samantha exclaimed. The room was filled with women giving grunts of discomfort, lying on all nine medical tubes.
"No, don't take her here," pleaded Sheena to the ceiling. "AI, do we have a tube available at Scott's M.I.R.?"
"Negative, Corporal James. All medical tubes at Scott Base Medical Inspection Room are currently occupied."
Sheena grunted as the pregnant concubine in Med Tube Three squeezed her hand. "Push, honey. Won't be much longer now." She turned to Samantha. "They started showing up at the start of my shift. A third of the corpsmen are in the Hesperusat system, so we're running short-handed like crazy. Can you help with tubes seven and nine?"
As the odd-numbered tubes were placed down one side of the room and the even-numbered on the opposite wall, that meant Samantha was placed between two tubes. She discovered she was trying to comfort and midwife her mother and aunt. Darjee medical technology made childbirth easier by widening the birth canal and other such labour-shortening tricks, but it still didn't make it easy. There was still a fair amount of effort involved in pushing a volleyball through a toilet paper tube. What a night to have her father out on Hesperus, she thought frantically.
"So where do I take my sister-concubine?" begged an anonymous voice from the speaker, clearly on the verge of complete panic.
"How old are you, honey?"
"F-f-fourteen," the voice sniffed, sounding impossibly young and scared. "And Daddy's on Hesperus."
"Fuck," grunted Sheena. "We need more med tubes."
"AI, get Carruthers. Put the Governor in the loop," snapped Samantha. "Notify my concubine Victoria Redburn to attend the pod Corpsman James is talking to."
"Carruthers," came his welcoming voice.
"This is Governor Deschenes."
"Carruthers, we need maternity med tubes. How many, Sheena?"
"We're expecting about three hundred additional expectant mothers to start labour in the next seventy-two hours, most of them within the next twenty-four." Sheena grimaced. "It has been about nine months since you and your parents were collected," she reminded Samantha.
"Ah," responded Samantha. That made sense – most of the first round of pregnancies had been triggered during the bonding time aboard the transport. "AHHH," she added, as her Aunt Alice felt the incredible need to push, crushing the fingers that Samantha was holding Alice's hand with.
"Trouble, Decurion Redburn?" enquired Michael unflappably.
"I need your approval for emergency requisition of services of sponsors' concubines," Samantha advised Michael through gritted teeth. Now the fingers on her other hand were being crushed by her mother Monica's vice-like grip. "And Carruthers? I need space to put those three hundred maternity-modified med tubes."
"Granted," Michael said laconically.
"AI, how many concubines can I grab who have midwife or obstetrical nursing experience? Add to that any who were doctors back on Earth, especially OB/GYN specialists. Also add all concubines who have taken the midwife sleep-training, with in-class reinforcement. And Carruthers, I need those med beds now, please."
"Coming," chirped Carruthers' voice.
"Replicator I-23 has capacity," called a voice away.
"Yeah, at five friggin' tubes an hour," Carruthers responded. "That won't work."
"That orbital replicator that's building warships – just completed the hull and AI for the Floyds Bay. It can pop out over 120 med tubes an hour."
"And how we gonna get them to the surface?" Carruthers demanded, as pain receptors thundered in Samantha's brain. Her mother and her aunt, each with a death-grip on a hand, were in simultaneous contractions.
"Dribble a line of Kittens across the outlet port of the replicator," suggested the tech. "Transport the bits and pieces of med tube directly to the martellos."
"And the Floyds Bay? It doesn't even have station-keeping thrusters."
"Let it drift for an hour. It can start getting its internal configuration going while it waits for a tow." The unnamed tech was obviously thinking fast.
"No bloody way am I letting a ship that size just drift." Samantha heard a snap of fingers indicating an "aha" moment. "We'll put tug kits on some F-105's, and slave their controls to the Floyds Bay AI. AI, will that work?"
"Negative," came the calm emotionless voice of an AI. "AI on LFR-013 CSS Floyds Bay not yet programmed to handle the six required F-105 Star Arrows. Suggest using AI on space dock."
"That works. Do it."
Samantha disconnected her maltreated fist long enough to offer her aunt some ice chips as the AI listed available concubines. "One quarter to immediate shift," Samantha ordered. "Divide the rest into three other watches, and assign them accordingly, as per ship's watches."
"Aye, Aye, Decurion Redburn."
"Sam," came Vickie's sleepy voice. "What's the problem?"
"Need you to help with a delivery. Pod RM-1935." The R stood for a Residential pod; the M stood for Marines. That code placed the pod in Camp Shackleton.
"Sure, what is it? Cat? Rabbit?" Sounds of Vickie grabbing her portable medical kit could be heard.
"Human."
There was a brief pause, as the implications of the single word sank in. "Sam, I'm a vet."
"Vickie," Samantha grunted, "she's a mammal. You know, tits, ovaries, birth canal? Like a bunny, only bigger?" Samantha's mother had to push again. Through gritted teeth, Samantha added, "Look, the only other adult there is fourteen and frightened out of her mind. That's whose hand you might have to hold."
"OK," Vickie conceded reluctantly. "I'll do my best."
"Just think of the outfit your daughter wore at the Halloween party." Eight-year-old Michelle and her classmates had dressed up as the Bunnykins, wearing bunny ears, powder-puff tails, bunny slippers and bunny gloves. And that was all they wore. It was cute and innocent, as was the Bunny Hop type dance choreography they'd done for the crowd's amusement. "It's another two bunnies just like her. Only older."
"I've been trying to forget about that. If my mother hears that I let her precious eight-year-old granddaughter dance in the nude in front of an audience at a whorehouse, I'm not sure the light-years between here and Earth will be enough to save my hide."
One thing that none of Samantha's concubines or dependants knew was that their sponsor sent a regular monthly message to their Earth-based next of kin. On November 1st, , Samantha had sent video of the cute and utterly innocent dance to Vickie's mother. 'AI, ' Samantha subvocalized, 'please review my October and November updates to Victoria Redburn's family and confirm that the words 'brothel' and 'whorehouse' were not used.'
Samantha, Sheena and Carruthers sat exhausted around the board room table, their full dress immaculate in Civil Service grey, Navy black and Marine green. It was now 09:15, the troops had been put through their opening drills and around the capacious dome of Camp Shackleton knots of Marine recruits were undergoing foot drills and learning the intricacies of the RLA-1 laser rifle. The artificial sun of the dome was climbing. Another watch of experienced concubines were assisting the Navy corpsmen in dealing with the rush of maternity cases.
But here, in the Governor's board room, these three were just sitting, silently. Carruthers wondered vaguely if there was some way of getting a cigarette – something, anything to keep his hands from fidgeting.
The bulkhead separating the board room from the General's office opened, and Michael Deschenes marched in, accompanied by his secretary concubine. Like his three guests, he wore his full-dress green Marine uniform. The lissome blond was clad in the standard shift, but rather than Concubine Grey, it was coloured Marine green to indicate she was on official duty.
"ROOM!" Carruthers yelled.
"At ease," Michael ordered as he settled down in the main chair. He turned to the concubine. "Coffees all round. After last night, I think they could use it."
"Aye, Sir." The concubine took everyone's order and headed for the replicator built into the wall behind Michael's desk.
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