Hartan Expanding Ch 03

Hartan Expanding, Ch. 03

Copyright April 2024 by Fit529 Dotcom (started 2019)

== Disclaimers ==

All names have been randomized to protect those idiots who think they are secretly living other lives in random multiverse shards and having lots more sex than they normally do here. Even if you randomly have the same name as someone here, NO, it's not you, get over yourself.

All persons engaging in or exposed to any sexual situations are over age 18.

If you like this work, feel free to: (upvote, follow-author, favorite-work, add to list, see author's profile/bio page, write a review, add a comment with your thoughts/inspirations, etc.)

== PREVIOUS CHAPTERS ==

So much has happened in the previous chapters, it's kind of useless to summarize it. This only makes much sense if you start at the beginning.

That said? Aliens invade, flattening Earth in slow motion. Fifteen years later, I'm working hard to get off planet, hoping to avoid getting drafted into an unknown fate, and discover there was and is a whole lot of sex going on that I didn't know about.

I have to adjust.

== Chapter: Morning Alarms ==

The alarm went off and we both awoke, smiling at each other. I turned it off and rolled over to kiss her, finding her boob was in handy proximity for me to pet and appreciatively squeeze for a minute or so.

I was mesmerized.

God, she was sexy!

I opened my eyes again and got a semi-tolerant eye roll and a head motion to get up.

After we showered and got back to the room, collected our packs and headed for the front room like normal, I noticed Mom wasn't waiting for us in the front hall. She'd usually been doing that, but every once in a while she wasn't there. We all took it in stride, the little ones sometimes woke her up and she had to sleep sometime. Or, sometimes there was a funeral or something important and she had to help out a parishioner.

An older Hispanic lady was there, one of my mom's parishioners who I barely knew but had been handling some of the little ones lately. She dispensed hugs for those heading out.

As Maria and I got to the door, we saw mom was walking up the driveway. She was leading 4 more people, an older Japanese-looking man, 2 Japanese-looking teenage girls, and a smaller pacific-islander-looking boy, complete with flowered shirt. The Japanese people looked bedraggled, in tattered clothes, barely able to walk. They were covered in cuts and bruises, barely healed with only the smallest of bandages over them.

We stopped and gave Mom hugs, and she explained. "More guests, for the front room, I think, this time. I'll need your help once we get beds for them. You go to school, we'll get it sorted." Mom was a strong woman, I knew, but this set of complications couldn't have been easy. I knew our ration wasn't full, either, but with most of the food being served at school, most of us didn't eat at home, except sometimes on Sunday mornings before church.

Maria and I walked on to school. The planet was in bad shape and it was getting worse.

After we got to school, about halfway through second period, all our devices lit up and buzzed. An alarm was sounding!

There were drills, we'd had those before, always on at noon on the fourth day of the month, really every cycle-start day which was the same thing.

It wasn't noon.

Everybody in the class looked up and we all stopped what we were doing, including the teacher. The alert signal sounded, at full volume on all the devices, you couldn't shut that off. Full tones, up-down-up then blat-blat-blat, twice. This was no drill.

"Attention, please. Attention, please. This is NOT a drill. This is NOT a drill. Stand by for an announcement from UN Central Hartan Command. UNCHC announcement follows."

(That part was standard, they always said that. It was recorded - and had been the same voice for as long as I'd been alive to remember hearing it.)

Another voice, an older woman's and not recorded, came in next.

"Hello. Fellow humans, especially residents of Earth. This is UNCHC. We regret to inform you of major breaking news. We have just learned that another 2 Hartan ships have approached and landed. One has been detected in central Antarctica, and the other in Mali, western Africa."

She paused. "These ships appear to be operating in the same manner as the others, moving at the same speed and breaking up the land in the same way."

She paused a moment for effect, and continued. "This obviously affects everyone in the world, as every person killed or displaced decreases the stock of talent we have to find a way to defeat them. Every fewer person is one fewer to oppose those who would wipe us out. Every square kilometer of land poisoned is one less square kilometer we have to feed, clothe, build on, live on, and use to care for our fellow humans."

"We must fight - we must strive! - to learn and grow strong by finding new things, even small things, building up whatever infrastructure and knowledge we can, to ensure our continued existence. If we cannot solve this, displace the Hartan ships, the consequences are plain. We all have jobs, and lives, and goals individually. Those displaced need help getting to safety, but more than that, we need those displaced people to be productive again. We can't have displaced people be inactive, and that means adjusting. In their hour of need, we need to stand strong, shoulder to shoulder, to defeat this Hartan evil."

"If you have a spare space, even if it's not much, if it's inside and protected from the weather, tell your local UNCHC or government office. Food will be provided, all these people need, mostly, is a safe place to lay their heads."

She took a breath, and said, more somberly, "We understand it's hard. We know life is harder. But, we must all move on together. If you are affected by radiation, or given a solemn prognosis, there are definite ways you can still help. We need volunteers to drive into afflicted zones and plant fast-growing grasses and trees to shade and control dust. There are many other jobs that desperately need doing. We must all Do Our Part. LME. Strive. Achieve. Innovate. Celebrate ideas and the people who have them, even if they're small. We must all pull together or there will be an end to us."

She paused a second for a breath, and finished up, "Face your fears, my fellows. Face them and work harder, stronger, smarter, and together we can make humanity's greatest days be those yet to come. May the peace of your God be with you. End of transmission."

Shaken, we sat there in stunned silence. Some people stood up, like they were ready to fight someone who was going to walk through the door any minute. One girl got up, walked around the class for a second in silence, and then sat down on the floor against the wall, in thought.

The teacher walked to the front of the class; she hadn't done much lecture this class session, since we could watch lecture videos by ourselves, but sometimes teachers would ask prompting questions to get us to debate things on our own. Calmly, she held up her hand and found our eyes; we all watched her.

When she had everyone's eyes, she said, "As a teacher, I got a datafeed about an hour ago, encrypted. It just decrypted. I'll read it now out loud to you, you're getting this info right now as I am."

Looking at her device, she read the message out loud, "The following is a measurement dump on what's happening in Antarctica. For analytical reasons, we randomly request some students in various places to investigate, experiment, postulate, and report on current and anticipated effects of the following. Notes are as follows."

We got that part; she took a breath.

"Ship 7 is now in East Antarctica, about 200 km E of Slessor, landing undetected about 3 days ago. The ship is staying above the surrounding surface level. Effects include complete melting of all ice down to surface soil levels, and further heating of melted water to a temperature of approximately 25 degrees Celsius. The energy input required to do this is far, far beyond previous energy outputs. The meltwater, for the moment, remains trapped inland. Estimated time to a point where this water could drain is approximately 7 months, presuming previous Hartan travel patterns remain intact and no ice-dam coulees occur. Please submit any papers documenting anticipated effects to department..."

The teacher stopped reading and said, more conversationally to us, "Anyone wishing to work on this project, give me a written statement of work proposal by end of school-day. I'll eval and approve, and submit non-duplicates to regional protectorate HQ. Otherwise, we all have work to do, even more now that these new ships are here. If anyone has relatives in the new areas, or feels it to be necessary, please feel free to make a counseling appointment. Otherwise, let's get back to work."

I turned back to my work and kept working problems. My previous night's delights echoed in my chest like heartburn when I thought about them, but focus on the now was pretty key.

After lunch, I had my bi-weekly physical, so I got in line and did the blood draw, urine sample, and dosimeter exchange. Results were normal, of course, but I wondered whether the additional dust kicked up by the new ships would mean more exposure where I was, half a world away. On the other hand, worrying about it would just fester and distract, and we all knew that path led to crazytown, the mines, and death.

Alissa, in biochem, asked me how things were going.

"Oh, pretty good. I'm learning a lot about biology, even if it's a more macro scale than in here."

She smiled formally. I got the feeling she was judging everything I was saying like I was on trial. She replied, "Good to hear it. Do you have anything to report about Maria?"

I looked at her strangely, like I was being asked to tattle on someone who'd taken 2 cookies instead of one. "Uh, no? She's pretty nice, and ..." I didn't know what to say, "... I ...?"

"Just give me some basic feedback. You'll be expected to give that to various people at various times, as well as logging into your 18Club app and noting things there using the pre-established formats. Sum up your experiences in a coldly clinical way, it's the way these things are discussed. Include your feelings, but describe them as if someone else was having them. It gives you perspective and allows discussion without blame."

"So, act like a robot?"

"Sort of. Now. I presume, per SOP, you and she have had physical contact."

"Yes."

"So, then, when I ask, you should say something like, 'Maria and I have had physical contact resulting in mutual pleasure. Exploring and emotional reactions for us both seem normal.'"

"That's really clinical!"

"Exactly."

"Is all this stuff like that?"

"You'll get used to it. It'll be covered in the classes you'll take next cycle. For now, answer some questions yes or no. If you're not comfortable answering, and I'm obligated to tell you that it is perfectly permissible to decline to answer, but I'll have to note that in my summary report." She waited, and saw the indecision on my face. She relaxed a bit, and leaned into me and said in a softer, more conversational tone, "Listen, just answer yes or no, and be very honest. If you lie, her answers will be different, and it'll count against you."

"Umm, okay."

"Are you able to sleep together?"

"Yes. The room is ours."

"Won't be for long... Did you have physical contact, and if so, how many orgasms did each of you have?"

"Uh, yes, one for her, one for me."

"Do you have any misgivings or hesitation about her being your handler?"

"None whatsoever."

"Just answer yes or no, I have to write this down."

"Oh. No misgivings."

"Did any of the activities you participated in seemed forced or coerced, abnormal for a new couple, or involve uncomfortable physical pain?"

"No."

"One more. You have the same loco-parentis house-owners. So, are your parents aware there is sexual contact, and if so, have you been given any positive or negative feedback about such contact?"

I thought about the beds being together, "Aware, yes. Mild encouragement, otherwise no feedback."

"Do you anticipate any negative consequences from a parent regarding emotional or physical contact with your handler?"

"No." I added, even though I knew she didn't need to hear it, "Everyone seems to expect it."

"Of course they do. Okay. That's it."

"Really?"

"Anything you'd like to add about your physical or emotional reactions? Keep it short and simple so I can write it down."

Speaking slowly and pausing between sentences, I told her, "I like her a lot. She's funny. She's really pretty. I cared about her even before this. We have a good thing going. I have told her I love her."

Alissa looked at me suspiciously, "You are aware this relationship will end sometime in the next 6 months or so?"

I nodded, kind of resigned, "Yeah, I know. She told me. I am not obsessed with her, I just ... I have feelings, and I'm telling you what I feel. I feel love. It's okay if she has to go somewhere else. I will miss her a lot, but I'll handle it." I looked back at her confidently. I knew I could handle it. Still, I knew it wouldn't be easy.

"Because you stated you love her, I'm obligated to tell you that, under 18Club rule 23-c15, any attempt to enforce permanent exclusivity upon her, regardless of her intent or stated opinions, shall result in de-rating and possible sanctions."

I understood the implications. "No, I'm not saying that. No. I understand your meaning. I will utterly conform to the ideals and letter of the rules."

Alissa relaxed a bit, "Good. Good to hear it..." She took a deep breath, and started to put away her device, "You seem like a nice guy, I'm glad I know you. Subject closed. Let's get back to work."

The subject was apparently closed.

Breakfast for me was next, and the announcement was everything people were talking about, but a lot of people left the meal quickly afterwards to work even harder. We all knew what was at stake.

The only thing that seemed to strike my interest enough to think extra or outside work (side-project initiatives were encouraged but not required) was worth doing was biochem, and even there, I had a lot of work to do just to get past bachelor's level.

I had a notes-break (for reviewing) after my ethics class, so I opened up the new my 18Club App. With only another week to come up with a second handler, I knew I had work to do, and I'd been preoccupied, not a good thing.

Since it was my first foray into the app, I had some setup to do. Standard sorts of boilerplate showed up first, lots of click-thru agreements about using the info and how it carried legal ramifications if misused or divulged improperly. I apparently gave up lots of rights just by signing in, but then again, it was almost impossible to do anything with my device without committing my very soul via some boilerplate or another.

Actually, reading the legalese was fun for a while, but then I skimmed. Apparently, I wasn't allowed to use the site or its information in any medical device, while connected to any electrical appliance under water, or with a mechanism that protected infants or geriatric patients. I lol'd at that one, wondered what kind of lawsuit had spawned it, and kept moving.

(The boilerplate warnings in user manuals amused me - I'd read some of them when I was younger. Do not use toaster underwater. Do not use gas stove while operating heavy machinery. Do not Declare War on Finland.)

The app's main page showed my stats and ratings in various categories, along with links to stats pages for Maria and each of my other housemates.

I clicked through on Maria first, and was greeted with a large set of pictures of her and by her, a short bio, and a bunch of data in various categories. Some of these were grayed out, I wasn't eligible to see them.

The pictures section had what looked like my standard pics, the ones they used for the yearbook, among other places. Our id cards (always clipped to our chests) had a front/side hologram and a rotating full-length one; Maria's status had these same kind of pics, too, only somewhat less flattering than the views I'd seen in person in the last few days. Uniforms always make people look a little frumpy.

Navigating around, I clicked to view Maria's LME stats since I kind of wondered. It warned me that if I proceeded, Maria would be alerted that I was viewing her data. I decided to clear that with her in person first, since I didn't know the etiquette.

Back on my status, I looked at my own LME stats, and saw a basic summary like the one I'd gotten from my school LME dashboard, but it had another whole section with ratings and comments from other ('redacted') 18Club people on my deportment, respectability, ethical estimates, grooming habits, follow-through on promises made, and a host of other things.

I read that when I was 13 I had been rude in the lunch line to a girl who'd just lost her dad to a cave-in somewhere. Apparently, everyone knew but me, they said, and I hadn't asked why the girl was pushing her way around, I just had called her on it and told her to back off. I wasn't to be overly faulted, the report said. I was reacting understandably to a perceived slight.

Reading that brought me back a bit to the incident, barely. I remembered there being a problem, and other people acting weird and there being gossip that I was ignoring. My head was caught up in some math thing, I think, I remember being distracted, and then she pushed by me and almost knocked my food tray away, and there were no replacements for the one cookie we got, even if you dropped your tray.

In another incident, I had called a girl a 'fuckface' for stepping on my ankle during a game in gym when I was 12. I didn't remember that one.

Several other incidents followed, including one where I'd apparently commented to another guy, within earshot of someone making the report, that a girl running by me during a cross-country race was 'stacked', had 'giant hooters' that bounced when she ran, that I she had a pretty face but risked a black eye (from her bouncing boobs) while running down hills.

I vaguely remembered that one, from a couple of years earlier. After hearing other girls complain about the hassle of having to carry heavy breasts around everywhere, and how they hurt while running long distance, I didn't make comments like that anymore. But, I had once, and someone heard me.

It was almost fun to read those stories again, and on another level, quite scary that my life was recorded in such detail. I wondered if some of the reason was I was a guy and there relatively few guys in school anymore, at least by comparison.

One top-level menu item was, "Peer Group Potential Handlers", so I went there to see what was up. It told me I had permission to see this list at any time releasing the list publicly was 'discouraged' (which is another way of saying egads-don't). The gist of that, I figured, was a handler using their handle to unethically dig into some other girl's past.

The second warning screen told me, one time only it said, that I should forever remember that someone's being listed (or not) was based on a machine learning algorithm. Further, no current health information should be inferred except that listed persons were congenitally healthy and both genome and proteome matched for minimum to optimum diversity as well as physical proximity and 'proven factors'. Sure, I thought, whatever.

Seeing the list was another matter. Each person listed, and I could sort by different criteria. There was a lot of data. It showed their LME stats, initiative projects, genome/proteome-based estimated ratings of any offspring we would produce, an as-yet-empty field for PAQ (a 'physical attractiveness quotient' that would be added later based on tests I would take later), the distance from their home to mine as a difficulty measure 0-5, IQ, EQ, and a bunch of other fields.