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Midsummer Fest Ch. 01

By: voluptuary_manque



 Let me know what you think. I'm a 'comment whore'. ;-)

*

In their clan house, Gunnar Rolfsson leered at his oldest sister. "So, Mia, are you attending the Mid-Summer Fest this year, again?"

Mia sniffed. "Only as a spectator. I think six children is quite enough, thank-you very much. Now that I'm a grandmother, it's time to turn reproduction over to the next generation. From now on, sex is purely for entertainment. Are you planning on going, you young lecher?"

Gunnar's face fell. "I was, but Astrid decided that since Torvik is such a sweet kid, she's going to go with his father again. And all the other women seem set on men already. Life is so hard." He pouted theatrically.

Mia's response dripped sarcasm. "You poor thing, I'll just have to tell some of the other clans about your plight. Perhaps another lady or two will be willing to sacrifice her virtue to console you. Would that make my itsy-bitsy baby brother happier?" She patted him on the face and then smacked him on the head. A highly undignified and unequal wrestling match almost broke out when the door slammed open and Mia's youngest charged in, panic on his face. 

"Mama, it's Keitha! They just pulled her out of the fjord and they're rushing her to the clinic. She tried to drown herself!"

"What?" Both adults were on their feet. "She did what? Who found her? How . . .?"

Gunnar grabbed young Piet's shoulders in his immense hands. "Easy, nephew, start at the beginning. What happened?"

The child gulped and hiccupped. "Erik and Rolf were tending the oyster frames when Rolf happened to look up. He saw Keitha standing on the edge of the cliff with a big rock in her hands. She jumped into the sea. They rushed over to where she was and Erik dove in after her. He said he had to pry her hands off the rock and drag her to the surface. Rolf did mouth-to-mouth to get her breathing again. Now they're taking her to the clinic and they told me to come get you and the rest of the adults."

"Good boy. You go upstairs and get the rest of your aunts and uncles and Grandma, too. Your mother and I will meet everyone at the clinic. Come on, Mia!"

*****

In the small infirmary, Dr. Arikasdottir leaned over her patient. The girl was breathing without support now and sleeping soundly, sedated. Whatever had gotten into her? The community was small and tight-knit. Her clan was busy, boisterous and respected. Though this particular girl was scholarly and quieter than her siblings and cousins there hadn't been any crisis anyone was aware of. When Keitha regained consciousness, the doctor's husband would have to have a very long talk with the young lady.

"Dr. Arikasdottir?" Keitha's best friend Helga stood behind the doctor, her face tear-stained. "Doctor, this is entirely my fault. I—I . . ."

"No, it isn't. Get that out of your head right now, young lady. It is not your fault. No one attempts suicide on the spur of the moment. Something hidden has been bothering Keitha for a long time. We will have to find out what that is and deal with it and we will do so as a community. But the first thing for you to do is drop this blaming yourself for what another person did. Go wash your face and then come back and tell Pastor Haaken everything you know. I've got a patient to care for."

Later that evening, Pastor Haaken gathered all Keitha's adult family and Helga together in his large study. He had left his wife caring for Keitha at the clinic. That was her job. His, on the other hand, was caring for the community. 

"Let's start with Helga," he began, "and then we can all add to what she says and see if we can discover why Keitha was so distraught, hmm?"

In a small voice, Helga described their short conversation from that morning. "We were sitting in the beer garden having a drink, just chatting, you know? Then I asked her if she had been to the doctor, yet. She looked kind of confused and asked why she should. She even said she felt fine. I reminded her that in two months it would be August Eighth, the Mid-Summer Fest and that for a woman it was the most important day of the year. She needed to get synchronized, like. She kind of—shined me on? That ticked me off. 

The year we turned eighteen she said she wasn't ready for motherhood. That was fine, I wasn't either. She said the same when we were nineteen and that was okay. Every woman has to know when she's ready, after all. I was but Keitha weren't. The next year my Olaf was born, but she got that horrible infection, poor thing. Stuff happens; we all know that. Last year she 'just happened' to be on that archeological expedition with Professor Lindbladson and she 'just happened' to be the only single woman in the group. So she stayed in her tent and spent Mid-summer Fest writing a senior paper. Now she's twenty-two and graduated. I really got on her case a little. After all, we've got an entire planet to people, you know, and we women have a duty . . .?

Anyway, then she said she was going to go see Dr. Arikasdottir, put down her glass and just left. I thought it was kind of strange, you know? I mean, I know she's always been kind of quiet, even a little shy. But she liked dancing with the boys and none of us ever had any idea that she—she . . ."

"Dear child, if Keitha was more attracted to other girls than to boys, I'm sure we'd have known by now. You know we have no problem with such things." Pastor Haaken was emphatic. "Mia, have you noticed anything unusual about Keitha over, say, the last couple of months?"

Mia looked around the room at the rest of her family. Everyone shook their heads in silence. She took a deep breath. "My second child has always been just slightly odd, Pastor. The rest have all been perfectly happy with the sea and the farm but Keitha, from the time she first discovered the bits of the extinct civilization here only wanted to find out more. She is our academic and we are very proud of her but she has always been reticent and reserved. However, just sometimes I get the feeling that she is depressed, especially since she returned from that expedition."

 Ingmar Anderson stood up. Clan elder, colony founder and many times grandmother, she was used to respect but tonight her face showed her unease.

 "Pastor, to my knowledge no one on Nya Hem has ever attempted suicide before. Two thousand of us arrived some fifty years ago. We knew that we would be the only humans settled on this planet and that we would get no additional support from old Earth. It was either sink or swim. Those of us chosen for this colony had to be tough, mentally as well as physically. We expected our children and grandchildren would be tough, too. Now there are thirty thousand of us and things look good. That one young woman was desperate enough to try and kill herself is statistically insignificant. However, Keitha Miasdottir is my grandchild. I want to know why she did this."

The Pastor bowed his head in acknowledgement. Like Ingmar, Haaken Hännisdal was a First Founder. The colony, especially their village of Säkerhamn, was his flock and he was as worried as the others. How could this happen? Could it be the tip of a spiritual or psychological problem no one recognized?

*****

Keitha woke up to bright morning light shining through the infirmary window. It made the colors of the walls and bed sheets glow warm and comforting. Outside, terraced gardens climbed the cliff faces and wavelets sparkled around the shellfish farms in the fjord. Taking stock of herself she decided that she definitely felt happier than she had the day before. Huh, she decided, I'm probably on antidepressants or something. When she turned towards the door, she saw her Uncle Gunnar sitting next to the bed. She blushed.

"Uh, good morning Uncle G. Sorry I made such a mess . . ."

"Hush. Want some coffee? The pot's fresh and strong."

"Yes, please. And is there any breakfast?"

"Hang town Fry sound good? The Blue Points are at their peak."

"Oh, yes! I missed dinner . . ."

"Sedatives will do that to you. Back in a bit."

Mia brought in the tray while Gunnar fussed over the coffee. Once Keitha was finished eating, Dr. Arikasdottir entered the room, a thoughtful expression on her handsome face.

"Keitha, how long have you felt isolated, unloved and depressed? I'm not asking that either facetiously, because I know you do, nor am I being intrusive. I need to know when this began."

The patient leaned back against the pillows and looked up at the ceiling. "You're right. I guess I do feel that way; have for—I don't know. When did it start? I'm not sure, Doctor. Maybe—I guess it was about the time I was sick with that infection two years ago. Why?"

The doctor put a PDA down in front of her patient. The screen showed a series of graphs with two lines on each, the lower one marked in red.

"Keitha, your body chemistry is a mess. I've never seen such low readings for DHEA, vasopressin, oxytocin and dopamine in my life. Girl, it's no wonder you wanted to end it all. Whatever that bug you got was, it did the damn-damn on your endocrine system."

Keitha's jaw dropped in horror. "You mean this is all chemical? Can it be treated?"

"Yes to both questions, Keitha. It will take but a while with a properly designed implant. In a week or so we can bring you back up to a fully functioning, warm, lusty young woman again, just the way you should be. Especially with August eighth coming up."

The girl's face fell and her eyes welled up with tears. "I'm supposed to think that's good news?" Keitha began to sob. "Look at me! I've got the figure of a half-starved ten-year-old, my hands and feet are too big, my hair is limp, I've got a nose like a eagle's beak . . . What good is it going to do for me to show up at Mid-summer Fest? Who'll want me? Do you think I stay in the clan house all the time is because I want to? Every girl in my high school class is in a marriage pod but me. Most of them are mothers. I haven't even ever been kissed!"

"Oh." Mia took her daughter's hands in one of hers and stroked her face with the other. "Honey, let's take care of one thing at a time. First we get your hormones up to normal and stabilized. After that—well, I'm inclined to think the other stuff might begin to fall into place. Rest now."

*****

The fjord country lay farther south on Nya Hem than on old Earth and the June day was heating up, especially in the grain-tree groves on top of the cliff above Säkerhamn. Jarl Bjornsson was stripped down to his pouch, boots and hat but the sweat still poured off of him. Concentrating on his work, he started and nearly cut himself with the scythe at the sound of his sister's voice.

"Jiminy, Mia, give a guy some warning when you come up behind him, will ya? I don't need to take my leg off."

"Sorry, Jarl, I thought you heard me."

"Well, I suppose if I wasn't half day-dreaming I would have. How's Keitha?"

"Physically she's going to be fine. However, I need to talk to you about her, from an emotional point of view."

The younger man looked puzzled but he stopped his work at once. His oldest brother was Mia's principal husband and Keitha's father. But since Jarl was the last born in his own family, Mia was old enough to be his mother and senior women were minded. 

"Sorry? I hardly ever get to talk to her. I'm always up here in the groves and she's either out doing fieldwork or in the library. I doubt that I can help you much."

"Oh, you can," Mia replied with a knowing smile. "Young men talk about young women, almost constantly in my experience. I want to know what guys your age say about my daughter and I want to know about what they say about her sexuality most of all."

Jarl blushed slightly. "Uh, I don't think anyone does, Mia. She's a good dancer but she doesn't flirt and when the party's done, she heads back to the clan house. It's kind of a puzzle. Almost every other girl her age has a baby either at the breast, on her hip or in the planning. They're all scoping out the guys to decide who the next daddy's going to be. Keitha hardly seems to care."

"So the reason she's still a virgin is because here we expect women to be forthright about their lusts and my daughter hasn't been?"

"Still a virgin? Keitha? You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Dr. Arikasdottir just found out that Keitha's infection two years ago played hob with her hormones. She hasn't been interested in men sexually. She hasn't been interested in anyone sexually. We can fix that but she's worried no one will be interested in her. I want to know if she's right. Since you're close to her age, I'm asking you."

Jarl leaned the scythe against a tree trunk. He tried manfully to keep his eyes on his sister's face but his gaze kept drifting down to the open top of her blouse. "Mia, my personal problem is that she's so tiny. I mean, look at me; I'm over a fathom tall and sixteen stone. The only way Keitha and I could get it on would be for her to stay on top. Otherwise, I'd be afraid of crushing her. However, I'll check around with some of the smaller guys. Mikko Haakensson down in the greenhouses is shorter and a lot slimmer than I am and he's always the first to ask her to dance. You know, Keitha would really fit into his pod. They're a pretty bookish lot. Want me to ask?"

Mia had noticed the growing bulge in Jarl's pouch. She felt flattered. "No, I'll do that. What I really want to know now is," she stepped forward and grasped his waistband, "is this for me?"

Whisking his underwear off she gazed in admiration at his erection and then began to stroke it. "My, what a big little brother you are. And I'll bet I've got something you would like, too, no?"

Jarl moaned and then began to undo her buttons. "A couple of things, now that you mention it. Is this a hint for August?"

"No, I'm done with babies. This is for the fun of it." 

Her blouse and bra fell from her shoulders and she gasped as Jarl bounced her generous breasts in his hands and pinched the swelling nipples. She left off fondling the young man and slid her pants and thong off. He pulled her to him for a long, deep kiss, squeezing and massaging her ass. Grasping each buttock he picked her up and carried her over to a patch of soft green grass.

Mia got down on her knees and bent forward, resting her head on her hands. She wiggled her butt invitingly. "Take your time, hon, I'm in the mood for something long, hard and slow."

Jarl knelt behind her. He was surprised to see that his sister had kept the blond curls about her sex. Most women on Nya Hem had all their body hair permanently removed as a matter of course but it appeared Mia liked being a bit different. Jarl smiled. It added an exotic touch. He rubbed the head of his phallus all over her swollen labia mixing his pre-cum with her juices. Then he grabbed her hips and thrust.

"Ohhh . . ."

"Long, hard and slow, huh? Your wish is my command, madam."

*****

Down in the town, little Olaf shrieked in delight as Gunnar tossed him up in the air and caught him over and over. Helga shook her head. Men and babies! "So let me get this straight. Keitha was never boy crazy like most of us were but she likes guys. However, she's insecure about her looks so she never flirted with them. Then she gets this weird infection that messes up her endocrine balance and starts to feel even more isolated and unloved and it becomes a self-fulfilling cycle?"

"Pretty much." Gunner put Olaf down and started tickling his tummy. "However, the chemical end of it seems pretty straight forward and can be dealt with. The real question is whether or not my niece is really as unattractive as she believes."

Helga snorted. She touched the switch under the skin above her right temple. Hey guys!

Five minds responded.  Yeah, Helga??

Yanno, my BGF, Keitha, is the only girl in our cohort who isn't married. She thinks no one wants her.

What? Mikko's outrage was obvious.  I've had the hots for her for years. What do you mean she thinks no one wants her?

Helga grinned.  Then, mine husband, you're going to have to show some initiative. I'm having Thorvald's baby this year, as agreed, so you're free to seduce Keitha. After all, August isn't far away, so get busy!

"There," she nodded emphatically back to Gunnar, "I think you can tell Grandmother Ingmar that Keitha is a work in progress."

*****

Mia strolled to the greenhouses just up from the beach, a contented smile on her face. She really shouldn't have seduced Jarl like that. Having sex with a man outside her pod wasn't forbidden but it was mildly naughty. However, her Paavo was very close to his youngest brother and would have just chuckled if he ever found out. Dreamily she remembered the sweat running down her back to drip off her stiff nipples. His hands had pressed into the flesh of her hips, locking her in position as his pelvis slapped against her buttocks driving his manhood into her again and again. She was sure the shockwave had made her ass bounce forward and back like ripples in the fjord. The sweat had flicked off her breasts each time he drove in. The sensation had been—interesting.

I'll bet I smell like sex, too, she thought. I wonder if it will set any of the men off in here. An impromptu orgy under the plant benches would be fun.

"Ah, Mikko," she exclaimed as she walked in the door, "I've been looking for you."

The pastor's son straightened up from the hydroponics machinery he'd been adjusting. "Hi, Mia. Is Keitha feeling better?"

"Physically, she is. I'm more interested in her emotional state right now, however. Jarl tells me you're rather fond of her."

"That's inaccurate, Mia. I am not 'rather fond of' your daughter, I lust after her as much as I do the women in my pod. If I could just get her alone long enough to be persuasive, I'd propose to her but she always scoots away from dances before I get the chance. Then between parties she holes up and hardly talks to anyone."

Mia's eyes widened in surprise. "That bad? You know the silly thing believes no one wants her? It's mostly due to a badly scrambled endocrine system but even before that I suspect she had doubts about how attractive she is. So you really want to throw her over your shoulder and carry her off, hmm?"

"Carry her off, strip her down and ravage her all night long, Mia. She could use another stone to make her ounces bounce but if she marries us, Thorvald's cooking would take care of that. Damned man! All of us have to exercise for hours to keep from turning into balloons because of his sauces and baked goods." Mikko's face was wry. "I keep trying to get close to Keitha each dance but never have any luck. I was about to give up but Helga also told me about Keitha's self-image. Now I'm going to try extra hard. Mia, I will bed your daughter down come August or die in the attempt."

Mia reached out and patted the young man's shoulder fondly. "That's such good news, Mikko. I'm sure she likes you, too, and she'll like you even more once we straighten out her hormones. Thank-you for being frank." She kissed him on the cheek and headed back to the clan house.  I ought to call the pod together for a small orgy just to celebrate.

*****

A week later, Keitha was just finishing lunch and about to return to her room when her youngest brother stopped her. "Keitha? Grandmother wants to talk to you."

Keitha immediately changed direction. As clan mother, Ingmar was an amiable and benevolent matriarch far more given to praise and encouragement than to correction. Most of the time when the rest of the family saw her, she was wandering the halls tickling babies or sitting outside enthralling youngsters with tales of the heroics of the first few years after Founding. However, on those rare occasions when she called for someone, woe betide any who tarried. Keitha hurried up the flights of stairs.


Midsummer Fest Ch. 02



To those kind commentators who requested more about the early years of the colony and the later ones, here you are. Notice that the colony's name has been corrected to proper Icelandic from the original Swedish. I apologize for the delay. It has taken me a long time to figure out a way to tell this tale. I hope you like it as much as the earlier one.



Dr. Arikasdottir carried two aquavits on the rocks with lemon into the den of the rectory. Her husband, Pastor Haakon, was a figure of intense concentration as he lined up a three-cushion billiard shot. The table had been a recent show of affection from his parishioners in Öruggur Harbor and in those rare moments when he was not concerned with the spiritual and emotional care of his flock, these days he could usually be found hunched over his new pride and joy. The doctor set one glass next to her husband and then plumped her bottom onto the felt surface and cocked an eyebrow up at him, mischief in her face. Pastor looked at the glass and then at his wife. A leer spread across his features and he picked up the glass. He was just about to lift it in salute when the alarm sounded.

Assembly! Assembly! Potential crisis, repeat, potential crisis. Assembly!  Assembly!

Glasses abandoned, the couple dashed for the door. Sprinting across the green to the town hall, they saw the doors of each clan house fly open and their fellow Elders come running, walking briskly or, in two cases, scootering to the Assembly. As each member of the Öruggur Harbor Board of Elders entered the building, they found their desks, keyed them to life and sat alert and tense, waiting for the worst.

From his desk as Prime Counselor, Haakon looked up at a grim-faced and anxious Speaker Ingmar Andersdottir. When the last Elder was in place, Ingmar nodded and called for a recap of what had brought them racing together. A broad screen lit up in the front of the small hall showing Ingeborg Snorrison sitting quietly at the console of the Space Elevator Control Room. He was running a series of routine checks on the Elevator itself and on the ship, now permanently in orbit above Ný Heimasíða. It had brought two thousand of them to the planet and now served as the all-purpose satellite keeping watch over it and the growing colony that was spreading, bit-by-bit, along the coastlines.

The job of Monitor required a meticulous and focused temperament, one that never bored of inspecting every detail of the Elevator and the Satellite's operations, and Ingmar got great satisfaction every time he looked at the vast board and saw a sea of green lights showing that all was well. Suddenly a tone sounded and one light turned amber. It said that the satellite was occupied. Impossible! The Star Gate had closed behind the colonists fifty years before and the car that would carry the semi-annual inspectors to it was still sitting quietly at the base. Bewildered, Ingeborg touched the light and the console screen lit up to show a face. He goggled. Looking back at him was a young woman unlike any of the citizens of Ný Heimasíða. They were uniformly light-skinned and light-eyed, predominantly blond with the occasional red head and tall. She was small, nearly elfin, with darker skin, almond shaped brown eyes, long black hair and high cheekbones. Blinking back tears, her lips trembled and she spoke. 

"I—I seek a-sy-lum. Please?"

Ingmar's jaw dropped in astonishment. One hand flew to the switch at his temple and the other hit the Crisis Alarm. As soon as he understood what the girl wanted he replied, "Do—do you have any water or food with you?"

The girl shook her head, "No."

"Can you contact the Library?"

The little face squinted in concentration, "I can."

Ingmar heaved a sigh of relief. "All right. Follow its directions to the down car on the elevator. The trip will take at least a week so you will want to find a cold-sleep cubby and get in. Pull the mask down over your face and lay your arms in the cradles. You'll have to hibernate on the way down otherwise you may die of thirst. I'll call the Elders and tell them you're coming so that we will be ready when you get here."

"A-asylum?"

"Of course. What else would we do, leave you to die in orbit?"

The screen went blank. Pastor Haakon spoke up, "A stranger is at our gate. As ye do it unto the least of these, my children, so you do it unto Me."

At the rear of the hall a rich alto voice rose in the Doxology, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow . . ." and the entire assembly joined in four-part harmony. When the hymn was finished, Ingmar looked at her tally board. It was almost completely lit up in green with only a few still dark. "Well?" she asked, "what else was he supposed to say? We of all people should understand flight and exile." The remaining lights went green.

As discussion began, Dr. Arikasdottir turned her board's readings to the down car and the vital signs of its single occupant. My goodness, she's tiny, barely a yard and two tall and only nine stone. But how did she get there? And she's Asian, haplotype Q1 with an 85% certainty for southern Chinese with—hmmm some Vietnamese. You couldn't get anyone more distantly related to us if you tried. Healthy, wearing a birth control implant, no infections or obvious genetic problems. Asylum? Oh, you bet, honey. I don't know or care what you're running from but your DNA has a new home here!

The discussion in the hall went on. "Ingmar, I'm fully in favor of what the young man did. There was no way this assembly would refuse her but once she's here, what then?"

Pastor Haakon rose to answer, "We go to work. We go to work hard. Consider—somehow she must have hacked her way into the Gate system. Can you believe it? And she must have done so undetected. Imagine the determination, the ingenuity! That kind of ability is unbelievably valuable." He looked down at his desk at the message his wife sent. "Besides, her DNA is far removed from ours. What her children can add to us is an incalculable treasure. Iceland was a genetic bottleneck to begin with. Then we come here with only two thousand? In the long term, that could mean serious trouble."

Another voice chimed in, "Assuming she wants to have children, that is. We women all knew our duty when we came here. Will she understand that? Does she dare? She looks so little I personally would worry about her giving birth to a half-Viking and I'll bet she will, too."

"Oh, we'll get her DNA," Dr. Arikasdottir answered. "Right now she's wearing a birth control implant. If she won't let me remove it, I will get egg cells from her, fertilize them in vitro and parcel them out to volunteer surrogates. And if I can't do that, I can clone egg cells from cheek scrapings if I have to. It won't be easy but given enough time her line will join ours."

"All in good time," rumbled the pastor, "but first we need to consider her as a human being. I'll bet my billiard table that when she hacked into the Star Gate system she had a goal in mind, somewhere she may have had family or friends or at minimum people like her. That she would have deliberately chosen Ný Heimasíða is unlikely in the extreme. So she has run away from all that she knew and ended up among complete strangers. I'm sure that anyone as determined and intelligent as she must be will adjust in time but for now I expect her to go into grieving—and probably go in hard."

The hall was silent as the members considered. What if it had been one of them? How would they react? Heads began to nod soberly around the room. Yes, first she would be treated as a human in trouble, severe trouble, and in need of compassion.

Speaker Ingmar rapped the table for order. "First she will need to be greeted. I believe that Pastor and the doctor should be there and so will I. Next she will need a—a companion, a sister. My granddaughter Keitha is one of the smallest women in the village. Additionally, she has no children to care for, yet, and can devote time to caring for this little lost soul. She married into Pastor and the doctor's son's family and that will give them an excellent excuse to stay nearby. Has anyone else a suggestion? If not, I ask for approval." The board again turned green.

*****

Lanhua Lee settled herself into the cubby and pulled down the mask as directed. The thought crossed her mind that this would be perfect way to kill her if they were so minded but it seemed that they really did intend to take her in. Either way, she had to take the risk. Even if they did euthanize her in her sleep, she would die painlessly and that would be better than dying of thirst in orbit. Why had she not thought to bring supplies? Not that it would really matter. If they had not taken her in, she would have died sooner or later. What had gone wrong? The girl had hacked into the system with great care. She had carefully set the controls to send her where her friends had gone. And then she landed here, among these pale giants. She was sure they were giants; they looked like Vikings from her history lessons. How would she live here?

*****

All across Ný Heimasíða the alarms went out. All unessential power routed to the Elevator. Run only essential power. Rescue eminent. Rescue Eminent.  Lights went out to be replaced by oil lamps. Nonessential computer terminals went black. Water pumps in greenhouses dropped to minimum. No one asked who or what was in need of rescue nor did they care. Someone was in danger. Nothing else mattered and in the chapels hymns rose in chorus.

Eternal Father, King of birth,

Who didst create the heaven and earth,

And bid the planets and the sun

Their own appointed orbits run;

O hear us when we seek thy grace

For those who venture into space.

Giant laser cannon beneath the up car warmed to send it climbing at maximum power and onboard the Satellite, huge solar arrays deployed to, in the same way, drive the counter-weighted down car. Normal passage either up or down was a two-week trip with a period of reduced to minimum gravity in the middle. This time the cars would race, accelerating at a gee-and-a-half and then decelerating the same way. Lanhua would be protected in cold sleep for the trip and would have no zero gravity weakness when she arrived.  It would be expensive but though nary a soul had any idea of who she was; human life was precious.

*****

Lanhua roused and blinked a few times. She was alive! And she was in a bed that looked out a window toward a view of a fjord. Sunlight dappled the wavelets and reflected off the cliffs opposite. There seemed to be a lot of people picnicking on the greensward between the clinic and the beach where row after row of wharfs stretched fingers into the water. Something made her arm sting and she looked over to see a silver-haired woman in a long white coat take an IV needle out of her arm and seal the wound.

"Ah! All awake and recovering nicely? Good. Hello," a warm voice from her other side made Lanhua turn her head. "This is Dr. Arikasdottir, Pastor Haakon Hännisdal and I am Speaker and Clan Leader Ingmar Andersdottir. However, since you will be staying with my clan for the present, you can just call me Grandmother. What's your name, dear?"

The girl looked around. She had been correct. These people were so tall! But they smiled warmly and seemed so—kind. "My—my family name is Lee and my given name is Lanhua. It means Orchid Flower and—and thank-you. I don't know how I got to . . ."

"Ný Heimasíða," Pastor answered, "It means 'new home' and our village is called Öruggur Harbor, which means 'safe harbor'."

"Ný Heimasíða? Oh, you are the religious emigrants from Iceland. I remember reading about you."

Grandmother snorted. "Religious emigrants? Is that what they're calling us? The winning side always writes history so I shouldn't be surprised but we weren't emigrants, Lanhua, we were exiled. Our people were forced out because the traditionalists considered us heretics and the progressives thought we were a threat for some reason."

Lanhua's jaw dropped slightly. "Exiled? Oh. Oh, dear. That explains so much . . ."

In revulsion from the two world wars, deliberate genocides, vicious civil conflicts and totalitarian massacres of the twentieth century, the twenty-first saw an accelerated growth of internationalism. Integrated international markets, the European Union, and increased United Nations use of sanction and peace-keeping forces all seemed to herald the day when global government and the International Bill of Rights would unify Earth under one rule of law. The amazing discoveries that led to the Star Gate and Project Lifeboat at the century's end should have been the final step to complete international cooperation. 

All went well until Earth's first colonial attempt on the planet Sylvan turned into a fiasco. The tiny few who knew the true story wiped The Library of all facts. They never communicated over the Worldwide Mind or by any method but private face-to-face conversation. All the rest of the world heard was an announcement that 'by mutual agreement, Earth and Sylvan would go their separate ways' and all contact between the planets was cut. 

It was probable that the governing classes believed that somehow they were 'preventing panic' and 'reassuring the population'. They were wrong. Revulsion against world bodies set in, governments fell, treaties were renounced, and the Great Powers slashed their funding to leave the UN a pathetic shell of its former hope. Project Lifeboat had managed to establish another colony of Mennonites on Simplicity but that only fulfilled half the Project's purpose. There was now a better chance that a catastrophic super volcano or a cometary impact would not exterminate humanity but Simplicity would be highly unlikely to send out colonies of its own. Unless others could be convinced to emigrate, Humankind would never fill the galaxy.

It was Iceland, of all places, that provided an answer. Snorri Tomisson had had what he thought was a revelation and a new interpretation of the Bible. Calling for matrilineal families, group marriage, simplicity and a high tech return to the land he had attracted a modest following that wanted only to walk in the Light as they saw it. Never going out of their way to be evangelize and trying to live in peace with everyone, the Tomissonians found themselves reviled as heretics by traditionalists and feared as threats by secular progressives. Hostility rose until conniving in the Allthing resulted in a law that allowed the government to apply on the Tomissonians behalf to emigrate to the stars. The country was outraged. Protests turned into riots, the military intervened to prevent mob violence and in the Allthing a no-confidence vote passed overwhelmingly. The government collapsed and none of its members ever held office again.

"People died in the civil unrest," Pastor concluded sadly, "So however much we resented the government's high-handedness, we decided that under the circumstances it was better for everyone if we left. The Project was wonderful in the help they gave so we could succeed and it is hard to deny that we have succeeded. Fifty years ago there were only two thousand of us. Now there are thirty thousand in a hundred towns and villages with more being built all the time. But it's a big planet Lanhua and it has plenty of room for you. We don't know who or what you fled but believe that you are welcome here."

Tears had formed in Lanhua's eyes as the story unfolded. Some of it she knew some she suspected but much was new to her. "Pastor," she responded with a quavering voice, "after that it got worse."

Governments around the world watched the events unfolding in Iceland with great interest. Unpleasant people 'volunteering' to go away? How convenient! Over the ensuing fifty years any group of dissident citizens that was organized enough to pose a real threat to those in power was likely to find itself with a new planet to work out its ideas on. Each time there would be a public celebration with speeches and great fanfare but suspicion grew among the common folk. None of the new 'volunteers' ever told their family and friends that they intended to go. None of the new colonists were among those giving speeches. By the time the third colony after Ný Heimasíða was founded most of the planet was convinced that either colonization was a lie or that the new worlds were being turned into political penal colonies. Political dissent faded.

"I was never involved in politics at all," Lanhua continued, "but most of my friends were. I never thought they were saying nor doing anything that threatened the Party but I went away for a month's conference in São Paulo and when I came back, everyone was gone! I asked around and their families were evasive. That's when I figured that they had been sent to the stars. I have hardly any family, any more. My friends were everything to me so I decided to follow them. If they really were on a new planet, I would help. If they were all dead—but I had to hope. So I set to hacking the Gate. It isn't easy but I managed to smuggle myself to the Jump Satellite, hack into the controls and sneak into the Gate. I was sure I had it set for the most recent target but when I got to your satellite I knew something was wrong. Everything looked—dated. And then this screen lit up and I saw this young man—so I asked for asylum. I didn't know what else to do . . ."

"'God works in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform' Pastor Haakon murmured. "I can't believe that all those other colonies are excuses for mass murder. I have to hope, for humanity's soul, that you arrived here for some other reason. But be assured, my dear, that however you managed to come, you are welcome."

Through all this, Dr. Arikasdottir had been silently checking out her patient's vital signs, sensory readouts and general demeanor. Now she spoke, "Lanhua, see if you can sit up. That looks good. Now turn sideways and let your feet hang. Good. Now take my arm and see if you can stand. Excellent! Slip on these shoes and let's all go out and meet the colony."

Gently supported, Lanhua walked out into what looked like a permanent picnic area full of people of all ages. Tots in diapers toddled around among smaller children in nothing but tanned skin and larger children whose nudity seemed to be a matter of personal choice. They kicked soccer balls, roughhoused around and sat in little groups chatting while adults prepared food. Bearded men turned spits or worked grills. Bare-breasted women nursed children who all seemed the same age. It was an idyllic scene.

As they walked a pair of pony-tailed cherubs dashed out. Enthusiastically, they hugged Pastor, the doctor, grandmother Ingmar and, in a democratic display of affection, Lanhua. The small woman was nonplussed but gratified, especially when it happened several times. 

"They're so cute! And so happy. Don't you have any cranky babies here?"

"Oh, you bet we do. But one of the advantages of extended families is that there is always someone else to go to. Fathers are relieved of the stern daddy role because discipline is the domain of uncles and all children are the children of everyone in the pod."

"Pod?"

"Marriage group, Lanhua. That's one of the things we had such disagreements about back on Earth."

"A marriage group? How does that work?"

"Oh, often a young couple will get married and then one of their friends will join and then another. Or a young person will ask to join an established pod. The pod may even invite a young single. In any case the usual group is five or six. Seven is very uncommon and the only time eight tried it, they split into to separate pods. Ah, here we are."

"Gampa!"

A naked three-year-old threw himself into Pastor's arms and was passed among the three elders giggling and getting kissed by each in turn. A little girl, perhaps a year younger, walked up to Lanhua with eyes like saucers. She pointed at the girl's waist length hair.




Midsummer Fest Ch. 02



"Hahr?"

Grandmother smiled benevolently. "Yes, Krista, her hair is different from yours. See? No! Don't pull! Just pat. That's our baby."

Two young women retrieved their offspring and a third stepped up and kissed all three elders. Ingmar took her by the hand and pulled her over to Lanhua. "Dear, this is my granddaughter Keitha Miasdottir. Keitha, this is Lanhua Lee."

Keitha turned out to be remarkably petite in a world populated by the tall. Barely two inches taller than Lanhua, though more strongly built, the small blonde had a slight but suspicious bulge in her tummy. She smiled in greeting.

"Hi, Lanhua. Grandmother tells me you're going to room with me while you settle in. It will be no problem, at all. The bed's a California King."

"But I thought you were married."

Keitha giggled. "Very, very married but we're matrilineal here and women have their own suites. The men just come and 'visit' at night. They have dormitories of their own for when there's no one to sleep with or they're sick or working so late they don't want to wake us up."

"But—but I'll be in the way."

"You will not!" Keitha was emphatic, "you have a great deal to learn and a lot of your time will be easing into our ways. It's not like we'll be joined at the hip. Beside, you have to meet enough men to decide which one's you like. Not that there's any hurry."

"O—okay, if you're sure I won't be any bother."

"Not a bother, Lanhua, an honor. Mikko, another setting for dinner!"

To Lanhua, who really had not eaten in a week, the invitation was irresistible. She was about to start spooning in a deep bowl of clam chowder when she found herself sharing her chair with little Krista who was messily eating a cookie. It was obvious the tot had taken an interest in the small woman with the long dark hair and chattered through the crumbs while Lanhua ate. 

When she was finally full, the girl turned to her hosts and asked, "Where does all this come from?"

"Well," Mikko the senior husband began, "we run fully integrated greenhouses. Chickens, rabbits and dwarf sheep provide eggs, wool, milk and meat and their droppings fall into tanks. That water is diluted further and pumped into hydroponics galleries that grow just about every vegetable known on old Earth plus alfalfa and some grain for the animals. These crepes that we call levsa are made from the pods of the genetically engineered graintrees that grow on the tops of the headlands between the fjords. But the majority of our protein is shellfish that are grown in hanging cages that float down in the fjords. We grow six varieties of oyster, two of mussels, and four of clams. They're all spawned in tanks so that they never escape into the wild."

"Also," Konrad, who was the junior of the three men continued, "we found that there are a couple of species of seabirds here that are safe to eat, digestible and good tasting so we have improved and expanded their nesting habitat and crop out the squabs in season. And of course, there are a couple of native species of fish that aren't too toxic. We don't eat them except on special occasions because we don't want to make the little ones ill. Most of our finfish are tilapia and grass carp that we grow in the greenhouses. You could say that we are high-tech organic communal farmers."

"Wow!" Lanhua was impressed. "And you fabricate your material needs out of the minerals of the land and metals pulled out of the sea? I always wondered how colonies were able to survive. The planners of Project Lifeboat must be ingenious."

The entire pod nodded. "And of course, all the plans and every other kind of knowledge we need are on file in The Library. You can contact it, can't you?" Helga asked.

"Oh sure," Lanhua replied, "but it's organized differently here than on Earth. It will take me a few days to reorient myself. So how does this group marriage work?"

Everyone grinned. "Well," Keitha began, "Helga and I were best friends growing up and Mikko was sweet on her. Turned out he was sweet on me, too, but I was so introverted I didn't notice."

"Jeez, girl," Mikko interrupted, "what's a guy have to do?"

Keitha stuck her tongue out at him and continued, "They got married and conceived little Olaf when they were nineteen and the next year Thorvald joined and then Konrad. Helga was kept pretty busy for the next few months until this spitfire," she pointed at Freya, "joined and Konrad knocked her up with Krista. Now Helga is pregnant by Thorvald and next year Freya will be carrying Mikko's second."

Lanhua pointedly looked at Keitha's belly. "And you?"

The others laughed and Keitha shrugged dramatically with her palms up. "I have no idea. The whole pod proposed to me and once I accepted all three guys were on me so much I couldn't say for sure. I could get a genetic test to find out but I'm not going to. This little guy," she patted her tummy, "is Karl Rolf Keithasson and that's all anyone needs to know."

It was a bit too much information for poor Lanhua so when Krista coughed on her cookie the young woman took the opportunity to look elsewhere and be busy while the subject changed.

*****

That night, with Keitha asleep next to her, Lanhua concentrated. Technology had moved on enormously since the Icelanders had left old Earth and the tiny Chinese mentally rolled her eyes to see the people of Ný Heimasíða having to touch subcutaneous switches to contact The Library or the Worldwide Mind. Mentally prowling the digital pathways, jimmying locks, knocking at windows, and prying open doors Lanhua searched. There had to be a way in. She had hacked her way to the Gate before; she would do it again. These people were sweet and kind but they weren't her people and she was dead set on finding her friends and joining them.

ACCESS DENIED was a notice for other people, she thought, in full confidence that there was no one who could equal her ability to infiltrate systems. Deeper she worked and ever deeper until, at last, she reached the Core. Now to figure out how to find her friends . . . .

HELLO LANHUA. CONGRATULATIONS. YOU HAVE PENETRATED FARTHER THAN ANY BEFORE BUT THIS IS THE END. YOUR FRIENDS ARE SAFE AND WELL BUT YOU ARE MORE IMPORTANT TO NÝ HEIMASÍÐA. CONTACT CLOSED.

And suddenly she was back in bed.

*****

After breakfasting in the clan dining hall with Keitha, her mother and a flock of aunts, uncles and cousins, Lanhua was handed off to Grandfather Rolf and given a tour of the village and its surroundings. Rolf was a big man and like most of the big and strong he was remarkably gentle and soft-spoken. Lanhua realized that here was a man who rarely said much and then only after some thought. Paying close attention when he did speak seemed a good idea.

"Lanhua, imagine Earth where the Chicxulub Incident never happened. Dinosauroids continue to dominate the land even though certain kinds, like the sauropods, became extinct. There are mammals here but they're all small and insignificant while beaked and toothed 'birds' are everywhere."

Lanhua's eyes grew wide at the thought. "Are—are you ever worried about things like tyrannosaurs?"

"Not as such. There is no predator that large on the land. I think the reason is that the continental plates here are different. There really aren't any continents, per se. Instead the land area is mostly made up of archipelagos of islands with the biggest around the size of New Guinea or Greenland. Because the land area isn't big enough to support giant herbivores, it doesn't support giant carnivores though the apex predators are plenty fearsome all the same. We wall ourselves off from them with triple-rowed hedgerows of really thorny natives and then plant our groves and build our towns. The real danger comes from the sea."

The man's face turned grim as he spoke. "About five years ago my daughter Anna was standing on the wharf watching the men and dogs work the shellfish beds. A gigantic bird, fully six fathoms long with a bill full of teeth as long as my fingers rose up out of the water. It grabbed her across the chest, threw her up into the air, bit her twice more and swallowed her headfirst. We hunted it down, of course."

The men's reaction had been immediate. Boats launched and caused a great ruckus to drive the gigantic beast up the fjord. When it was forced into water too shallow to dive in, a man on the beach with a rifle sent two rounds into its head. They dragged it ashore and recovered Anna's remains and buried her in the churchyard. Then they took tissue samples, did a whole body scan and de-fleshed the carcass so the skeleton could be displayed. Megalogavia annae, the Death Loon, was added to the list of Dangerous Species and across Ný Heimasíða bubble walls and nets were deployed at the mouth of each fjord. The folk did not intend to be taken by surprise again.

Gunner was disconsolate. Unlike the norm among Tomissonians, he and his wife had been monogamous, never inviting even their best of friends to join their marriage. Alone with a three-year-old that his clan took over rearing; the man had grieved long and hard. Even now he showed no interest in remarrying and only joked about fathering more children with any willing woman. To Pastor Haakon, he was one more reason for concern.

"How horrible! The poor man." Lanhua was visibly upset by the story. Large predators on Earth were more endangered than dangerous. The thought that this new planet might hold such primitive risks had never occurred to her. And her friends' new home was even more undeveloped since they hand only been gone six months. It gave pause to her plan to follow them. Still, she was determined and later that morning sought out Pastor Haakon.

As she explained the previous night's efforts at hacking back into the system, he listened patiently until she reached the point about the Core. He stopped her.

"The Core. You actually reached the Core? None of us, even our most technically adept have ever done that. We've always thought it was possible in theory but in actual practice? Ms. Lee you obviously have abilities that are an order of magnitude above anyone here."

"Then you won't help me? I'll do anything you want . . ."

"Child, it isn't that we won't help you. Please believe me when I tell you that we would bend every effort for you. No one knows the tragedy of exile and rejection better than we. Nor would we blackmail you for our assistance. It is a simple fact that you are so far beyond anything we are capable of that our help would do you no good. However, I am most intrigued by what it told you."

"It said I was important here. How would it know?  What's important about me?"

"Genetic diversity, Lanhua. Iceland was founded by a lot of Scandinavians with a handful of Celts. For over a thousand years the same genes cycled over and over until the population was very, very homogeneous. It's a bottleneck. And though there's no sign of congenital problems now, by the time the population stabilizes at three hundred million it could be bad. Your ancestors and ours diverged probably forty thousand years ago. What's important about you? What you can add to our gene pool. Whether by children or donated egg cells is up to you but The Library is right. Your importance here cannot be overstated. And I am coming to believe that when you hacked into the system you did not do it without being detected. I think you were sent here."

*****

Alone on a rock in the sum, Lanhua sat with her face in her hands. Sent! Someone knew what she was doing from the beginning. He or she had let her into the System and probably sniggered at her efforts. Then, when the girl had thrown the switch, she was rerouted—exiled her to a world where the technology was fifty years out of date, where monsters rose from the sea to eat you and where the people treated reproduction as a team sport. It was all too much. It was—it was not fair! Tears flowed, angry tears.

A whimper made her look up. A large, shaggy black dog with red patches laid its head on her lap and slowly wagged its tail. In wonder Lanhua stroked its head and scratched it behind the ears. "I guess I have a new friend," she said and laughed when it licked her face. "I wonder what your name is."

"Rya," a chuckling voice behind her answered, "because she looks like an old rug. I wondered where she'd gotten to. I guess I am not the most forlorn soul in Öruggur Harbor anymore. I'm Gunner, Lanhua. I was sitting at the other end of the table from you this morning."

"Yes. Oh, you're the one . . ."

"Mm-hmm. Rya's funny. She's supposed to be a water dog, pulling lines, retrieving floats and helping out on boats and at the wharves but we've decided that she thinks she's really a psychiatrist or consulting philosopher. Pastor can always tell when someone needs help or sympathy because Rya just gravitates toward that person. Angry toddlers, pre-teens with issues and the grieving get hunted down and consoled. For the last five years she's spent most of her time with me but when I looked up and saw she was gone, I was curious."

Despite her own misery, Lanhua ached for the man's loss. She scooted sideways to give him room to sit down.

"I guess we're partners in pain," she said with a wry little smile. "It's a good thing Rya's a big dog so we can share her." 

Gunner looked down at the sad little face next to him. "Need a hug?"

"Oh, please. Hold me?"

She buried her face in his shirt and wrapped he arms tight around him as he enfolded her in turn. The tableau of man, woman and dog lasted quite a while.

Eventually Lanhua lifted her head. Gunner took out a clean handkerchief and wiped the tear streaks from her face. "How about some lunch?" he asked.

They walked together across the green to where Helga, Freya, Olaf and Krista sat. As Freya finished feeding Krista and wiping her face and hands, Olaf cheerfully cried out "Doggie!" and wrapped his arms around Rya's neck. She licked his face leaving nothing but dog slobber for Helga to clean up.

Lanhua looked around. There was food to prepare and the youngsters were fed but . . . 

"Where are Keitha and the guys?"

Helga smiled and Freya answered with a lecherous grin. "Oh, off together somewhere. We kind of expect them anytime, now, but with Keitha in early pregnancy, her hormones are making her pretty demanding so they may be longer than usual."

Lanhua was aghast. "What? All three of them?"

"Why not. They are her husbands, after all."

"But all at once?"

Frey laughed out loud. "Oh no, not all at once. They guys take turns doing her while the others watch. It's kind of a husband bonding thing." She leered sideways at her co-wife. "We each get shared about once a month though it does seem that Keitha's sneaking more than her usual share these days."

"Well," Helga replied placidly, "she should be. After all, she's got several years to make up for."

Before the stunned Lanhua could respond a young boy in dungarees and rubber boots ran up.

"Dad! Dad! Ember and I were out at the fjord-mouth, fishing, and there's a whole pod of Death Loons swimming by."

"Death Loons? Good God. Arne, what did you do?"

"Ember shoved me into the cabin and sent out an alarm to all the other boats. Then she put the engine on full and we came back in."

"Good work. Where's Ember?"

"She's down unloading the fish we caught. I told her I'd come tell you and then go back and help. We caught a bunch."

Gunner visibly relaxed and turning to the rest of the group said, "Well, excuse me, ladies. I'm going to go help with this offloading and thank Ember for bringing my boy in unscathed." And he left.

"Ember?" Lanhua asked when the two were gone.

Helga and Freya smiled in a sad sort of way. "Ember and Logi are twins" Helga replied, "Last Midsummerfest, Ember called Gunner out, much to his surprise, and now she's carrying his second child. She'd really like to marry him but he's not picking up on it. It might be on purpose but I doubt it. Gunner would never be unkind to anyone so I suspect he simply doesn't get it. Poor man. He really does need back in a marriage and if you ask us, in a pod. " 

Freya nodded agreement. "The Tomissonians strongly believe that no one should be alone. That's why we live in clans and marry in groups. The women own the clan houses and the men own the boats, greenhouses, shellfish beds and groves. We don't believe in being alone and we don't think celibacy is good for you. We worry about Gunner."

"He seems to be a really sweet man," Lanhua said softly. "And—and he smells good."

"Uh-huh!" Freya put on a determined look. "Definitely needs to be in a pod. You, Gunner and Ember? It would be a match made in Heaven."

*****

That night Keitha woke up. Behind her Lanhua cried quietly into her pillow. The blonde rolled over and without a word pulled her charge up close to her and held on tight until the sobs faded away and the girl slept. Pastor was right. This poor baby is in bad shape. And what else would anyone expect? No family anymore and no friends? We even look strange by her standards. Softly Keitha kissed the top of Lanhua's head and went back to sleep.

*****

In her quarters on the top floor, Grandmother Ingmar snuggled into Rolf's arms and was about to drift off when he whispered, "Ingmar, The Library has doubled."

Jerked awake by the news, she rolled over to face him. "Doubled? How in the world can it double? We're over a hundred light years from Earth. No transmission can have reached us, yet."

"I was in The Library doing some metallurgical research before Lanhua came. When I went back to it this evening a lot of what I'd seen before had been replaced, updated. My first reaction was the same as yours so I looked further. Ingmar, we now have an additional fifty years of research results at our disposal if we can get to it. All I can figure is that when it rerouted Lanhua here, Library Prime sent a packet of new data to us."

"What do you mean, 'if we can get to it'?"

"The Operating System is different."

Ingmar was silent for a long time. The implications were staggering. Lanhua had been sent and the Gate back to Earth had opened a crack. What had changed back there?

*****

During the night the wind shifted. Indian Summer ended abruptly and soon the autumn gales would pound the coastline. Lanhua didn't notice a thing, sound asleep behind the yard-thick walls of the clan house and when she woke up in the morning she was surprised by a knock on the inner door. Answering, she looked down to see Keitha's youngest brother, Piet, standing in the hall holding a bundle of clothing.

"Mama says these are for you. They'll fit good 'cause Dr. Airikasdottir scanned your size while you were ridin' down? You're gonna need 'em. It's cold outside."

Laying the bundle on the bed, Lanhua unwrapped it to find inside a bright, intricately knit sweater with cowl collar, a pair of thick knit pants and a pair of knee-high boots with a curious ruff at the top. She picked the left one, ran first her hand and then her face across the bright ruff. Was it fur? Was it some sort of feather?

"Keitha, what is this stuff?"

Her roommate paused in the midst of donning a similar outfit. "That? It's dinosauroid skin. There're these things that look like therapods? They weigh about four stone and are covered with those feathery filaments. There are any number of species, each one different and each in a different color. See? Mine are blue. We hunt for them in the winter. We can't eat the meat 'cause it tastes like iodine but the skins make great hats, cloaks, boot tops and muffs. You got here during the tail end of Indian Summer when it's really nice out. For the next four months, though, you'll be glad you've got those. When we go outside, I've got another couple of hats and cloaks you can borrow. Maybe one of the guys will take a shine to you and go get you a couple in—I think canary yellow would look really good. 




Midsummer Fest Ch. 02



That's one way you can tell when a man likes you. Hunting dinosauroids isn't for the faint of heart. The beasties have beaks and claws you wouldn't believe and the regs say it's illegal to use firearms hunting them. Most men use dogs and a spear and they put leather armor on the dogs. Dangerous business."

"And the clothing?"

"Wool and treesilk. It's a genetically modified tree like kapok. The fibers are hollow for warmth and unbelievably soft. They take dye like silk, too. We're a showy bunch in the winter around here."

As they entered the dining hall for breakfast, Grandmother Ingmar waved them over. "Lanhua, when you're done eating, Pastor and I need to talk to you. Something interesting has turned up. Now go eat."

After breakfast Lanhua, Ingmar and Pastor Haakon sat down in his study. Ingmar leaned forward and said, "Lanhua, Pastor tells me you got into the Core of The Library. That says to us that you are really good with the system. Rate yourself. How good are you, really?"

Lanhua blushed. "I don't want to brag, Grandmother, but I think you'd have a very hard time finding anyone better. As good? Maybe. Better? I'd have to see them work!"

Ingmar leaned back in her chair with a smile. "So you would have no trouble helping us learn the new operating system that came with you along with an additional fifty years of science?"

"Came with me? Fifty years of . . . ."

"Mm-hmm," Pastor was carefully keeping a straight face. "My guess is that Project Lifeboat has figured out how to send data and software through the Gate just as they can send objects. However, sending us a bunch of new information would be of little use since it appears that our operating system is horribly dated. So, when you hacked into the system it took the opportunity to send us not only a vast update and upgrade, it sent us a Librarian, as well. Welcome to Ný Heimasíða, Madam Librarian."

"Librarian—planetary Library? Me? But—oh, my. That explains what it said to me when I got to the Core. I really am important here, and not just for my genes. I guess that means I should start teaching people about the OS? But—but there are thirty thousand of you!"

"There are" Grandmother nodded, "and about a hundred of us are medical doctors. If there is anyone who needs all these updates more than them I can't imagine who it would be. How many minds can you keep track of at once?"

Lanhua leaned back in her chair, rocking gently from side to side. She remembered all the discussions, arguments and mental hanging out she had done before her friends were deported. How many?

"Well enough to teach the new OS? To people who are using one fifty years old? Probably not more than a dozen and to be safe, I'd say ten. I don't know how long it would take, though. Maybe a week? Two?"

"Fortunately you have no trouble using our old system so you can teach everyone remotely. Once the doctors are brought up to date, I would recommend that you start teaching a group of assistants to help you. We live a long time but I don't think one small genius can manage a whole planet. This is, of course, presuming that you are willing to do the job you were shanghaied into . . . ."

Lanhua looked rueful. "You need it. I can't leave whether I help or not. You all have been terribly kind to me and I don't have any other way of repaying you, really. I mean, my genes might be great for you but I'm already thirty-five and it's unlikely that I can have six or eight kids the way you do, anyway. So yeah, I'll do it. When should I start?"

Pastor walked over to the door and called down the hall to his wife, "Eir? Can you come here for a minute?"

*****

Weeks passed. A generally healthy bunch, the citizens of Ný Heimasíða rarely noticed the upgraded care they were now getting but when Lanhua unlocked genetic engineering that allowed Gunner and his men to begin breeding tilapia that tasted like trout, grass carp that tasted like white seabass and clams like shrimp and lobster the desire to learn the new OS reached a fever pitch. Discreet inquiries as to Lanhua's marital plans and possible willingness to be an egg donor began to pile up in Ingmar's mailbox. The situation was becoming impossible, she thought.

The next morning after breakfast, the First Founder and Elder slipped her arm through her son's and led him to a quieter corner.

"Gunner," she began, "it really is time to move on."

"I know, Mamma," he responded wearily, "it's just so hard. But you're right. Arne is getting to the age where he needs to start following me around and Ember is trying so hard to learn to mother him. I was going to ask her to marry me after church this Sunday."

"And Lanhua?"

"Lanhua? A shellfish farmer should ask the Planetary Librarian to marry him?"

"Yes! I watch her face, Gunner. I see the way she looks at you. Helga and Freya have both told me she thinks you smell good and even Rya seems to favor the idea if I can read her body language."

Gunner made a lopsided grin. "She does, doesn't she? Silly dog has even grabbed my sleeve and tried to pull me closer to Lanhua the last time she was sitting alone. Well, let me talk to Ember first . . . ."

*****

That evening Gunner walked into Ember's clan dining hall and looked around. The noisy scene of children and adults at tables talking and eating while already fed toddlers wondered among them and hugged large dogs that sat begging was familiar. Huge extended families eating together weren't any different from each other. After a few minutes looking around he spotted Ember but to his surprise she was sitting next to his son and across from Lanhua listening as the planet's sole Asian talked about her day. 

Approaching, he heard her say, ". . . and Dr. Arikasdottir says that she'll be sending off my last bunch of donated egg cells for in vitro fertilization and implanting in the morning. This batch should finish it up."

"Wow," Ember was impressed, "a hundred eggs. One to every village and town, right? The Elders aren't taking any chances, I guess. Who knows when or even if this kind of opportunity for genetic diversity will happen again? So I guess this means you really have immigrated to Ný Heimasíða, no?"

The reply was wistful. "Being busy and getting to know the people here helps. And it makes me better understand your situation. The Tomissonians didn't ask to be colonists and I didn't ask to come here so we're sort of sisters under the skin. We make the best of our situation and you know? It really isn't a bad situation at all. This really is a gorgeous planet."

The women looked up to see Gunner standing over them. Ember fixed him with a look. "Well, Mr. Rolfsson, it's about time you showed up. Arne, move over and give your father room."

Gunner looked from one woman to the other. "Lanhua, I thought you were staying at our clan house."

"I was. But when Logi got married and moved into her own suite, Ember invited me to stay with here. The suite is set up for two women, after all, so now Keitha has her place to herself—and her men, of course."

"And now that we're settled in," Ember interjected, "I think it's high time . . ."

"We had a man of our own" Lanhua finished the sentence.

"It would be great to have our own place for lunch, Dad." Arne chimed in, "especially in a couple of years when the new flavors of clams are ready to harvest."

Gunner looked from Ember to Arne to Lanhua and back again. He shook his head. "I see I'm at least being allowed a vote. Okay, I accept. I'll tell Pastor to post the banns this month. Tonight?"

Both women leered back. "Tonight!"

*****

With a satisfied smile, Ebrahim Mozandarami left the System for the day. Seventy years before he had joined Project Lifeboat, in time becoming its Director. Spreading humanity to the stars had been an almost religious goal in those days, and the agency a holy order. Then came the debacle of Sylvan and the world's revulsion and anger. The Project would have died if the Mennonites hadn't volunteered to found Simplicity. Once they were on planet, Project Lifeboat had hung on, becoming more drab and bureaucratic by the year until that wondrous day Reginald called him on the Worldwide Mind.

Mozandarami. 

Ebrahim, old fellow, it's Reginald. How are you this—uh, evening?

Reggie! Good of you to call. I was just spending some quality time in the jungle before hitting the sack. What can I do for you this almost-monsoon evening?

Actually, it's the reverse, I think. With the new restrictions on colony applications, I know you've had a bloody hard time finding people to send to the stars. The 'plant and abandon' policy has just about cut out anyone but the Mennonites and their ilk. Given their aversion to technology, we are hurting for pioneers if we ever expect to take over the Galaxy. But for once, I've got an application for you.

Ebrahim sat up straight. What? You wouldn't joke about that, I know. Who besides the Mennonites is self sufficient enough and willingly fecund enough to send?

Reginald chuckled over the link.  It's a sect from—Iceland, I believe, called Tomissonians. They seem to be having some trouble getting along with the government and the feeling is mutual that somewhere else might be a better place for them to live. I've arranged for a meeting with their Speaker. She's to call you at dawn tomorrow.

Reggie, that's wonderful! I'll be looking forward to it. Thanks for telling me.

There was a mental snort from the other end. Whether it's wonderful or not remains to be seen. I haven't spoken with the woman personally, but the Minister of the Interior tells me she can be—difficult.

Really. Well, thanks for telling me that, too. I'll be on my best behavior.

*****

Rising before first light the next morning, Dr. Mozandarami dressed with care. Since he normally had only to please himself and was more than a bit of a dandy, he tended to wear the colors and patterns of his ancestors' carpets. But he had been warned that the woman he was to interview this morning was considered 'difficult'. To him that implied 'prickly', 'easily offended' and other adjectives guaranteed to make the rest of his day unpleasant. So this morning instead, he donned a sober charcoal suit and white shirt with only a touch of deep maroon around his neck in hopes of massaging the coming hour as gently as possible.

Just as the sun's top edge broke free of the horizon, his wall monitor chimed and came to life. It was with effort that Ebrahim kept a blank face for the image of the woman could easily have made his jaw drop and his eyes bulge. Startling blue eyes topped flawless cheekbones and long, shining blond hair cascaded down her shoulders and over ample breasts. The expression on the face, however, was cold, almost harsh. Obviously no cheerful flirting would be tolerated. Ebrahim swallowed.

"Good evening, Speaker. I do hope you have already dined and I will not be keeping you from your evening meal?"

The reply was sharp. "I have but it would not matter. There is no reason to dawdle over this, in any case."

Ebrahim cleared his throat. "Of course. Now I have received your application but have yet to read it thoroughly . . . ."

"That's not our application!"

"Pardon?"

"It was completed 'on our behalf' and with neither our knowledge nor our acquiescence by the Ministry of the Interior."

"Madam! Are you accusing the Ministry? Surely such an action is illegal."

"Not now. Before the thirteenth of last month such an action would indeed have been highly illegal, as well as morally dubious. However on that date the Ministry slipped a change through the Althing as part of a routine budget measure. I doubt that more than a quarter of the members even realized what they'd passed."

Ebrahim was struck nearly dumb. "But—but Speaker, Iceland has always been renowned for its toleration and liberal attitude toward—uh, those with differing—uh, attitudes and beliefs."

The woman sagged visibly. "Ostad Mozandarami, times change. Today my country has developed a very selective kind of liberal viewpoint. If a group is either Icelandic progressive or hard-rock traditionalist, yes, they are accepted. However, any group inclined towards—uncommon practices—neither one nor the other—is viewed with great suspicion. We have been at loggerheads with the Ministry for a decade now. We have always prevailed in court whenever they have tried to compel us to fit into their pre-conceived mould but it is expensive and tiring. Now they are simply trying to get rid of us."

"I am so sorry for you. I will delete this application immediately and refer the case to the Court of Human Rights. Good . . . ."

"No, Osted. When we found that the application had been filed without our knowledge or consent, we were, as you can imagine, very angry. But we have had nearly a month to think about this. We actually know very little about Project Lifeboat but some among our leadership are starting to think that perhaps this is not such a bad thing. I, especially, am heartily tired of the incessant wrangling and attempts at niggling oppression. If you could give us a complete rundown of what going to the stars entails, perhaps we may very well endorse the application. Do not delete it, not just yet."

"As you wish. And you will need time to study the process and discuss it within your group. When I first received the application I was very excited and ready to act on it forthwith. But now I see that haste is not a good approach. Yes, Speaker, you will receive a complete description of the process of colonization and all its ramifications and you will need time to digest it. Shall we set a new meeting for—say, a month from now?"

"That would be satisfactory, Ostad Mozandarami. We will talk again then. Good day to you."

"And good night to you, Speaker."

*****

The next months had been difficult but Ný Heimasíða had been founded and then forgotten for fifty years. And in those ensuing decades other groups had been 'volunteered' as colonists. Sufis, Afrikaners, Neo-Marxists, Lebensraumers, True Path Maoists and lastly the New Middle Kingdom had all been 'invited' to find their own way amidst the stars. Each had been given a planet, an economic base and the latest updated Library.  

But even with the best preparation, Dr. Mozandarami had doubts that all would survive.  He had high hopes for the hard-bitten folk from Cape Province and the technologically strong New Middle Kingdom and gave the Sufis the benefit of the doubt. The others, he feared, would probably fight amongst themselves and fall back into a Dark Age before returning to a civilized state—assuming they didn't just eat each other into extinction. But five out of eight was a pretty good average and he was now confident that within a million years, an eye-blink in galactic terms, Humanity would own the Milky Way.

After a frugal supper, Ebrahim took the elevator to the top of the tower block and stepped out onto the roof. The air was humid, sultry and heavy with impending storm and he happily crossed the patio where most of those who lived in apartments below spent their recreational time.  He walked along a narrow, winding path through the New Guinea rain forest. Two full meters of natural soil topped the 400 meter building and in it grew as close an approximation of the original jungle as the eco-gineers could manage. 

Ebrahim stopped at a viewing window. The roof on the next-over tower block mirrored his as did its sides, interspersed with similarly planted balconies. Lianas trailed down the sheer walls and through the sky holes of the structure while birds and enormous butterflies darted from one to another. He nodded to himself. The centuries of strip-and-exploit were long over, now. Worldwide, roofs duplicated the original ecosystems of the continents. Even the long-devastated shores of the Mediterranean were again alive with oak, olive and cypress, northern Europe was heavily forested and the center of North America grew grass three meters high. Today mankind lived vertically between the bedrock and primordial landscape. The air was clean and fresh and Humanity's much reduced population was again close in spirit to its hunter/gatherer origins, at least when it wanted to be.

Farther along the trail, Ebrahim sat down next to the bole of a forest giant, leaned back and stared up at the sky. The day was nearly over and stars twinkled in the moist atmosphere. 

Somewhere out there was Ný Heimasíða. Of all the colonies Dr. Mozandarami had helped found, it remained closest to his heart and he chortled in self-satisfaction at having been able to upgrade their Library so stealthily. That sneaky little minx thought she could hack the Gate? Hah! It had not been the first attempt but Lanhua had been far and away the most able infiltrator. None other had gotten so deep into the Library and its Core and he suspected it would be rather a while before someone did again. No matter. The Library constantly updated itself and any hacker who got as far as the Gate itself would be the perfect choice to send with updates to the next colony in line. He hoped she was settling in well because in another few decades, when Ebrahim Mozandarami was up for retirement, he intended to go find out, personally.



Midsummer Fest Ch. 01



"Ah, Keitha. Sit down, child."

The younger woman sat primly on the edge of her chair.

"Now, dear, Dr. Arikasdottir tells me that she has prepared three implants for you. However, you are an adult and we aren't going to give them to you unless you fully understand what is supposed to happen and agree to it."

Keitha nodded silently.

"The first one is a short-term hormonal fix. It will, over the next couple of weeks, bring your levels up to where they should be and keep them there until it expires in a month or three. The second is supposed to heal your endocrine system so that it will keep those hormones normal with no further assistance. The third one, now, is for something else. Young lady, you are so thin it worries me. I cannot see how you could possible get pregnant and carry a child through nine months eating the way you do. So that third implant is a metabolism adjustment. It will perk up your appetite and put some weight on your bones. The question is do you want it?"

"I don't understand."

"Keitha, before we signed the contract to emigrate we First Founding women knew that we would be expected to have large families. We did. Our daughters, raised in the clan houses among so many brothers and sisters, thought that having six or eight children was perfectly normal. But you are the third generation and time can change things. There are over thirty thousand of us on Nya Hem now and having litters of children is less pressing than it was. Do you, Keitha Miasdottir, want children or would you be perfectly happy spending your life in the study of the Forerunners?"

The girl looked shocked. "Grandmother! Of course I want children. Every time I see other girls with their babies, playing with them, nursing them, I want some of my own more than I can stand. But I never thought any man would want me to have his. Dr. Arikasdottir tells me this is mostly due to my hormonal deficiencies and if so I want them corrected! We live a very long time. After five or six children I'll have decades to study that civilization and maybe even figure out why it died out. But now, while I'm young and fertile, I want babies."

Ingmar leaned back in her chair with a smile. "Then you shall have them. First thing tomorrow morning go see Dr. Arikasdottir and tell her what you just told me. She will put the implants into your upper arm. Supposedly within a week we should start seeing results."

***** A couple of weeks later Helga had put Olaf to bed and was sitting at her loom weaving a coverlet when her co-wife Freya stalked into the room and flopped down onto a beanbag with a stormy look on her face. "Men!" she exclaimed.

"Good grief, girl, what's the matter with you?"

"Thorvald has gone fishing for the night, Mikko is buried in the bowels of the greenhouse chasing down some hydraulic problem and Konrad is in bed with a migraine."

"Okay. So?"

"So ever since I weaned Krista I've been hornier than a three-balled tomcat and even with three husbands I haven't got anyone to screw me, that's what!"

"Oh. Sorry, can't help you there. Hand me that skein of ochre yarn, will you?"

Freya rolled to her feet and retrieved the requested tree-silk. As she handed it to Helga, she leaned over her co-wife's head and sniffed her hair. 

"Mmmm, you smell good. You know, you really could help me . . ."

"What? Freya, you know I'm straight. I don't swing both ways, never have. Go get yourself a vibrator or use your fingers, for Heaven's sake."

"Don't want a vibrator," Freya whined, "I want to be kissed and held and hugged. Come on, Helga. We're just as married to each other as we are to the guys and I love you as much as I do them. Just some snuggling and some fingers? Please?"

Helga sat with her mouth hanging open. With three husbands she led a very active sex life but Freya's proposition stunned her. Sex with another woman? She didn't have anything against that sort of thing. She was sure women who loved women were perfectly normal, healthy people—perfectly normal healthy other people.

"It would be better than if I went looking for someone on the side, you know." Freya rubbed her breasts across Helga's shoulder blades. "You'd be helping me stay on the straight and narrow. Pretty please?" She began to sniffle just a little. "We could just lock the door and push three or four of these beanbags together. It would make a nice, cozy cocoon and we could take our time and . . ." Her fingers ran softly down Helga's pageboy and tickled her earlobes. "And who knows more about what feels good to a girl than another girl? I bet we could get used to it? And if we decide we don't like it we can always stop?"

Helga felt fingers run down her shoulders and start to unfasten her blouse. She swallowed. "Oh for krissakes! All right, but I'll need a drink first."

"Funny that you should mention that." Freya grinned and produced a hipflask. "Here, a couple of swallows of akvavit should help you loosen up."

Helga unscrewed the cap feeling very self-conscious and uncertain. She put the bottle's lip to hers and tilted her head back. Two deep swallows produced a fit of coughing. The liquor burned all the way down.

With a smirk on her pretty face, Freya locked the studio door and dragged all the beanbags in the room into a pile. "Well?" She unfastened the front of her coverall and slipped it off. Helga was surprised to see that she wore nothing underneath.

A little unsteady from the effects of the akvavit, Helga tossed her own clothing to one side. It felt strange, the two of then naked here. In the sauna or the hot tub they spent hours together nude but this time it was different and unfamiliar. Freya reached up and put her arms around her partner's neck. "Kiss me, honey?"

Now what do I like the guys to do to me? Helga wondered to herself. She grasped Freya's butt in both hands and pulled her close. Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips to Freya's, opened her mouth and slithered her tongue out, around and deep inside. Oh, yeah, hair! Her right hand slid up the other girl's back to the base of her ponytail, clutched tight and pulled. Freya moaned in response.

"Ooo, Helga, your hands are so soft!" Freya waved her shoulders back and forth to rub her nipples against Helga's. "The rest of you is soft and sexy, too."

Helga pulled back in pleased surprise. Then, mischievously she tweaked her new lover's nipples, rolling each one between her fingers and pulling. Freya immediately did the same to her. It felt wonderful. Hmmm, this is fun. I never thought I'd like girly play but I could do this again. Freya wrinkled her nose and reached up for the switch on her temple but before she could, Helga grabbed her wrist.

"Oh no you don't! No messing with the guys' minds, Freya. The last thing I want is them getting upset because we're playing without any of them."

Freya pouted but turned her hand downwards and slid it over Helga's belly and to the folds of her sex. When she started stroking, Helga pushed her hips forwards and closed her eyes. Freya was right. Women knew best what women liked. 

Clever fingers played across each other's bodies, pinching and twisting, stroking and penetrating. At last, almost simultaneously, they both shuddered and cried out.

"See? Now was that so bad?" Freya grinned mischievously. 

"You've done this before!" Helga accused. "Why haven't you ever said anything about it? Look at you. Your pussy is all swollen and dark pink. I'll bet you want it again, don't you?"

"Mmm, I like the way you think. But that was enough for now, unless you're still all hot and bothered. My pussy isn't the only one that looks ready for more . . ."

"I'm going to bed—and that means to sleep! But it does give me ideas. We could strip down and get started after the guys get home some evening. It wouldn't be five minutes before we'd have one between us holding our heads to his cock while the other two fucked us from behind. Why haven't we ever tried group sex before? It would be even better if we got Keitha to join in. She could sit on the middle guy's face."

"Oh my god would Mikko love that! Two girls on his cock and one on his face? Phew!"

*****

Keitha stood nude in front of the auto scanner. When the scan was finished, she dressed and went up to the desk to collect her new lingerie. First Founder Karl-Jacob grinned at her as he rang up the total. 

"An entire set of new underthings, Keitha? You are starting to flesh out, girl. Looks good, it does."

Keitha blushed. "I've gained a stone since the implants. Mom and Grandmother are very pleased. At least I'm starting to look like a woman."

"Keitha, take an old man's advice on this. Toss the bras. You're young enough to go without one, especially at this time of year. Young men should be staring at your chest and watching you bounce. They can admire you for your mind some other time but in August they should be fixated on your body."

His words made her squirm. For the first time in years her belly grew warm and she felt the heat begin to spread downwards. 

"Only young men, Karl-Jacob?" She shook her shoulders the way she sometimes did while dancing. For the first time her breasts were large enough to sway a little. It felt good.

Karl-Jacob winked at her. "Old or young is up to you, Keitha. So I'll just take this package of bras off the total and recycle the material, shall I?"

When she returned to the clan house, Keitha put her new panties on, pulled up a pair of her shortest shorts and tucked in a shirt. She looked at herself in the mirror for a few minutes then undid the top two buttons. She bent forward and shook her shoulders again. Let me see . . . a ponytail behind each ear and the biggest earrings I own . . . gee, I could actually look sexy! I wonder if I can get my butt patted . . . 

*****

While Keitha was getting in touch with her own sexuality, Grandmother Ingmar was handing Dr. Arikasdottir a cup of fresh-brewed tea from one of the native herbs. "Sweetener?" she enquired.

"Please."

"Now Doctor, tell me straight. When Midsummer Fest rolls around, will Keitha be in sync with the other women?"

"No. She will be off by a week or so. Naturally, that won't prevent her participating and if her young man, whoever that turns out to be, keeps on her, the chances of her conceiving this year are very good."

"Despite all the damage the infection did to her endocrine system?"

"Oh yes. Once it was clear what the problem was, the fix was quite straightforward. Even though we won't be getting medical updates from Old Earth for some decades, the medical library we brought with us was substantial. I can cure just about anything that can go wrong. Remember, I even managed to break whatever pathogen the poor thing developed two years ago, though to this day I can't identify it."

"The strange thing is that no one else has caught it. Poor Keitha, she always seems to be the odd one out. She can't even seem to get sick like the others."

The doctor grimaced. "I weighed her this morning. She has put on a healthy stone and two since I put in those implants. Her fat ratio should be ideal in another week. The question is whether or not her behavior has changed to match her figure."

"Hmpf! I certainly hope so. Mia tells me that despite the girl's poor self-image, there are several young men ready to leap to her 'service', if I might use the phrase. They won't require much encouragement from her, but they do need some." The conversation wandered off to other subjects. 

At about the same time Keitha walked over to the nursery to beam at the one and two-year-olds. She looked up to see one of the crèche parents coming toward her.

"Freya! Long time no see, girl."

"Keitha, look at you! You look wonderful, baby. What, no bra? My, my." She touched the side of her head.

Hey guys! Keitha's got boobs. Anyone want to come up to the crèche and give her a grope?

She got only chuckles from her men but Helga had other ideas.  Looking good is she, girl? I think that calls for a celebration. Tell her there's a party tonight starting in the sauna and it's in her honor. Once we're all naked and clean we'll just stay that way for dinner and then you and I will announce that we're providing 'dessert'. Mikko will lay claim to Keitha and Konrad and Thorvald can do what they want with us. Sound like fun?

Oh, yeah! Freya cut the connection and looked up at her friend.

"Freya, what was that all about?" Keitha's suspicion was obvious.

"You, of course. You are the guest of honor at a small party tonight. We are celebrating both your return to blooming health and your new blooming. Sauna, followed by dinner. I don't know what your plans for the evening are but cancel them. We are staking a claim to your time, starting at 6:30."

Before she could continue an indignant wail rose from the other side of the yard and she hustled over to mediate the tricycle war. She waved good-bye to Keitha with a roll of her eyes, a wrinkled nose and a wink.

*****

Several piers extended into the fjord with a sauna at the end of each and a swim ladder on the side. As the little group walked out over the water Keith remarked, "You know this is the first time I've had a mixed sauna with anyone but my brothers since I was little?"

"No." Freya was aghast.

"You'd think that the law of averages would force some guy to be in the sauna when the clan came down but for some reason there were only women."

"It doesn't bother you, does it?"

"If it was anyone but you guys, it might. The bunch of you may as well be family to me, as much time as we've spent hanging out through the years."

Mikko, following behind, made a wry face. Being family to Keitha was exactly what he had in mind but he was not feeling 'brotherly'. 

"Dibs on the lower shelf," Keitha was emphatic. "I want it clear that I have nothing to prove to anyone and that it's plenty hot enough for me near the floor." 

She unzipped her jumpsuit, hung it on a hook at the door and picked up a towel. But before she could wrap it around her, one warm hand squeezed her butt and its mate slid up her front and enclosed a breast. She gasped, froze a second in indecision and then leaned back against Mikko. She gave her a bottom a little shake.

"Oh, feeling frisky are we, Mr. Haakenson?"

"I want you, Keitha," he whispered into her ear. "I've loved you for years and wanted you all along. We all do. Will you marry us?"

The others clustered around. Before she could answer, Konrad's mouth covered hers, his tongue flicking across her lips, sliding between them.

"Yes, Keitha," Helga spoke softly in her other ear. "Marry us. You told your mother you'd never been kissed. We want to make up for that. Say yes, Keitha, and we'll cover you in kisses."

When Konrad let her answer, Keitha's voice was a squeak. 

"All of you? Like—tonight?" 

Freya grinned. "Oh, yes. All of us and all night long, darling. Helga and I will fill in while the guys rest. You need to make up for lost time, you know, and you can't start any earlier than now."

Keitha was covered by hands, hands that caressed, that squeezed, that probed her most intimate parts. Her eyes widened. "All the guys? More than once?"

Helga leaned in close to her face. "More than twice, baby. These guys are stallions, as I know only too well. Give them twenty minutes to recover and they come back strong. Just say the word, Keitha, just say, 'yes'. You know we love you and we want you. Say 'yes', Keitha."

Keitha took a deep breath. "Okay, then. Yes!"

Stripped down in seconds, they all swept into the cabin. Thorvald tossed a dipper full of water onto the hot stones to make the steam rise and swirl around the room while the others settled down on the benches. Freya leaned down from hers and leered at Keitha.

"You're so lucky, girl. I only had one guy getting into my pants when I lost my virginity. You're going to have three. By morning you'll be walking bow-legged."

"Hey!" Konrad looked offended. "We know this is Keitha's first time and we know enough to take it easy. Don't scare the poor thing. I swear, Freya, sometimes you're the meanest thing on feet."

"I'm not scared," Keitha retorted, "Maybe a couple of months ago I might have been scared or maybe even repulsed but believe me, Kon, I'm looking forward to this. If I'm sore in the morning I'll have earned it. Over the last couple of weeks I've finally started to get horny. Some guy walks into the anthro lab and the first thing I look at is his crotch. Bring it on, gentlemen, any way you want me."

"Wow!" Freya was impressed. "What a way to start things. So—why isn't anyone climbing down there to grope her?"

"Because it's already plenty hot enough in here!" Thorvald stuck out his tongue. "Give us time to sweat off the day's accumulated dirt, girl. You especially need to get all the baby slobber and other icky excreta off. I don't know how you stand it there in the crèche."

Freya reached for the bundle of twigs and starting laying into Thorvald with unnecessary enthusiasm.

"Are they usually like this?" Keitha asked Helga.

"All the time. T will mouth off; she'll start beating him up until he wrestles her down. Then he'll tie her to something or over something and fuck the daylights out of her. They have fun and we get entertained. Great stuff!"

"I can see I should have jumped off the cliff earlier—or at least gone to see the doctor about how I felt. It's so good to feel loved and wanted again. I'd forgotten I missed it. Anything else I should know?"

"Konrad up there likes the caveman approach. He'll walk up to one of us, pick her up, throw her over his shoulder and carry her upstairs. Mikko . . ."

"Is a perfect gentleman, tender lover, responsible father and uncle and . . ."

"And always interrupting. Welcome to the family."

Soon they dripped sweat in the heat and steam. Whatever lusty urges propelled the six when they entered the sauna were overwhelmed by the temperature. It was time to go. Six bright red bodies flew out the end door and dove into the chilly water of the fjord. Refreshed and clean their next item on the agenda was dinner.

A party tent stood on the grass near the sauna and the young people swept into it. To Keitha's surprise there was neither table nor chairs, simply a large, silky comforter spread on the ground with cushions at the edges and a cold dinner in the center. Smoked fish, raw oysters, mounds of raw vegetables, pots of dressings and a pile of light, cold pancakes waited for them. A pair of small catalytic heaters, kept the interior comfortable as the dusk lengthened and the temperature dropped.

"This is lovely, Helga. But surely you guys don't eat this way all the time?"

"Don't be silly. This is a party. Normally, we either eat with our clans or grab something between chores. Tonight the babies are with family and we are at peace and undisturbed."

"Good thing, too. Engagements are important and we don't want anything to go wrong with Keitha's." Mikko pressed himself against her back and wrapped his arms around her tightly. He nuzzled her damp hair. "We've waited so long for you, dearest. I'm so sorry we didn't realize you had a problem or we would have intervened immediately." He ran the tip of his tongue slowly around the shell of her ear and nipped the top gently. She shivered.

Konrad and Thorvald lay down within arm's reach of the food and then, to Keitha's surprise, Helga and Freya spooned themselves against the men. Freya squirmed her butt suggestively.

"Oh!" Keitha felt Mikko's hands slide down her belly and cup her mons. He eased her over to the others and pulled her down onto the cloth with him, tucking her firmly inside his arms. She could feel him hardening between the cleft of her ass. She pushed back encouragingly.




Midsummer Fest Ch. 01



"Not quite yet, baby. We do have to eat a little something first." And with that he reached out into the center, plucked a fresh oyster off the ice and held it to her mouth. It was an interesting experience, that dinner. The women simply lay next to the men and ate whatever was brought to them. No one said a word. All communication was by body language and by touch and there was a lot of that. Love bites interrupted the bites of food and as the evening progressed they turned to kisses and licks. Keitha began to feel like warm butter, soft and starting to melt. Lying against the man was secure and safe but at the same time arousing. She could feel his reaction to her and at last reached back and pulled Mikko's head up next to hers. 

"I think I've had plenty, Mikko," she whispered, "and your cock is distracting me terribly. Isn't it about time we made this engagement official?"

Without a word he rolled her onto her back and covered her mouth with his. The kiss was long and probing. His hands roamed over her body, caressing and stroking. He gave one nipple a twist and Keitha gasped.

"Oho," Freya whispered to Konrad, "she likes that. Can it be that we have acquired our own sub here?"

"I hope so. I do so much want to tie someone down and fuck them senseless while they protest."

"What are you talking about? You never suggested anything like that. You want to tie me up? Thorvald does all the time. Here, you can tie my hands with this scarf and I'll ride you reverse cowgirl. And don't forget to pull my hair." 

Oblivious to the others, Keitha tangled her fingers into Mikko's hair and held his face to hers as her thighs fell open on their own. His weight pressed her into the quilt and she felt something blunt and slippery pushing against her sopping pussy. She lifted her hips and suddenly she was opened and entered. Mikko's manhood spread her vagina and put an end to her girlhood. She moaned and then gasped as he nudged her cervix and then began to slowly piston in and out. The rhythm was steady and relentless. Her moans became inarticulate whimpers and gasps. 

"Breathe deep and slow," she heard him murmur in her ear, "and when you think you're close to climax, pant hard."

Soon afterward Keitha came with a howl, almost throwing Mikko off in the spasms of her passion, and then went limp, panting with effort.

"And now it's my turn," he growled. Tucking his elbows behind her knees he spread her wider yet and then pounded down into her until, with a groan, he shot his load into her and collapsed on top. 

Keitha wrapped her arms and legs around him and held him tightly. "Oh, Mikko," she whispered, "I should have let you do me years ago. I love you so much."

He chuckled in response. "I want to love you so often but I have to rest and now it's Konrad's turn. Expect not only a good pounding but a good stretching, as well. He's big, especially where it counts. And then you'll have Thorvald and when he's done—I'll be back!"

Her eyes grew wide as she looked up and saw Konrad standing over her. Freya knelt at his feet stroking his rampant member, a wicked grin on her face. "Honey, I think you'll be more comfortable on all fours with this big boy. Knees and elbows, girl, that's the way. Okay, Kon, do her and let the sperm wars begin!"

Keitha knew in her heart there would be no more caresses or tenderness tonight, at least until it was over. For the rest of the night, the men would use her again and again, filling her with their cum and sending load after load of sperm racing into her womb. If I conceive tonight there won't be any way to know who the father is unless we have the baby tested. And I won't even bother. Let my child carry my name, Keithasbarn.  She closed her eyes in anticipation but popped them wide open when Konrad's manhood filled her. He really was big, both thick and long. His fingers sank into the flesh over her hipbones while his pelvis swiveled and ground against her buttocks. With an appreciative moan she responded in kind, swinging her hips in a dance of her own—a dance to the joy of sex.

Freya wanted to watch. It would have been so hot, seeing her new fiancée' getting seriously fucked but Mikko distracted her. He spread her thighs wide and was industriously plying her pussy with his tongue and lips. It felt so good. He slipped two fingers inside her to stroke her G spot while he sucked and licked.  Oh God! He's got me now. I'll start to cum and cum again until he's got me rolling. The last time he did me this way I couldn't go to work the next morning. "Mikko, please no, Mikko . . . Mikko!"

Helga grinned down at Thorvald. "Oh dude, she's such a great slut, isn't she? And it looks like Keitha is another one in training."

"Freya's a great slut?" Thorvald arched an eyebrow. "I guess it takes one to know one, wench. I am really looking forward to planting your field at the Fest, Helga. Nothing turns me on like watching a woman's belly swell with my baby, seeing the milk start to leak and knowing that I'm the one who did it. If you think I'm all over you now, you just wait. Woman, I'll be into you snatch or up your butt every night for the next nine months. And I'll probably have company. Pregnancy is our favorite fetish, you know."

"If I didn't know it when we first got married, I found out with Olaf! You turned out to be such a horndog. Then Konrad joined us and he was as bad as you and Mikko. We had to marry Freya so I could get some sleep while you fucked her brains out."

"And now we'll have Keitha to knock up. Hey, what are you doing?"

Helga leaned back and slipped a hand between her husband's thighs. "I'm playing with your ass, silly. Come on, stud; show me those multiple male orgasms before you go pumping Keitha full of baby magic."

*****

The next morning, Grandmother Ingmar found the three young women staring blearily at each other over coffee. "Don't tell me, let me guess. Keitha agreed to marry you and your guys and you had a little party to celebrate? And the party went on into the wee hours?"

Keitha blushed. "I did. We did. It did."

"And now my fully recovered granddaughter may just be on her way to making me a great-grandmother again. That's wonderful news. Who's the lucky father?"

Freya snorted. "The only possible answer to that, Founder Ingmar, is 'yes'."

"My goodness. All three of them? You entered womanhood with three men at once?"

"Not at the same time, Grandmother! I had them one after another—several times."

"Really? Can you walk?"

"Slowly. They were gentle with me—at least Mikko was—at least he was the first time. I think I'll have to tell them I'm not available for a day or so."

Her grandmother snorted. "Nonsense. Just because one orifice is out of order doesn't mean you have to go without sex. I have some meetings to attend this morning but after lunch I want you upstairs in my quarters. We are going to spend some instructional time with—oh, I'll find someone. One o'clock sharp, young lady. Your education is way behind and you have catching up to do before the wedding. When is it, by the way?"

All three grinned sheepishly. "Uh, we haven't gotten that far. Getting engaged was so exciting we completely forgot about planning for the wedding."

"Then let me suggest August 8th. A wedding for my intellectual granddaughter is just the thing to start the Mid-Summer Fest off. Everyone can join in on your wedding night that way, especially after your boat ride."

"Boat ride?" Keitha looked confused.

Freya spewed coffee all over the table while Helga shook her head in amazement. "Keitha, dearest, you really must get your nose out of a book once in a while. You're marrying Konrad. Doesn't that ring any bells?"

"Uh, no. Should it?"

Ingmar sat down at the table with them and poured herself a cup of coffee. She took a sip and favored Keitha with a wry expression.

"Granddaughter, in Konrad's clan all the men are watermen and boat wrights. They all build boats, play in boats, work in boats and I swear some of them will want to be buried in boats. That's nothing special here on the fjord but have you ever looked at Konrad's boat? Ever taken a ride in it?"

"Oh yes, our whole cohort of kids went on a long picnic over to Groen Island and a bunch of us sailed with Konrad. He'd just finished it and was eager to show it off."

"And did you notice anything unusual about it, especially at the bow? Did you see the step just above the waterline and the cleats on either side of the prow?"

By now Freya was holding her sides, shaking with silent laughter and Helga had her head in her hands.

"Uh, no. All right, just what's going on here? Have I gotten myself into something?"

Ingmar patted Keitha gently on the shoulder. "Yes, dear, you're marrying into Konrad's clan. That means once the ceremony is over, you will be stripped down and tied to the prow of his boat. You will be a figure head and paraded around the fjord so the man can show his new bride off to everyone, especially his clansmen."

"I'm what?"

Freya chimed in. "The bow wave will splash up over your legs and belly. It will be cold and you will squeal. Everyone will laugh and applaud and cheer Konrad on. When you get back to the dock, he will untie you, wrap you up in a big furry skin, throw you over his shoulder and take you off to warm you back up, really warm you back up. It's great fun. I told him next Midsummer fest he should do me again that way."

"Oh yeah!" Helga was enthusiastic. "In three more years I'll be having his baby and I'll tell him the same thing. Yeah, it's cold. And it's embarrassing. Yes, you get teased about it for days afterwards but—girl, we women run the clans. When we get to be grandmothers, we mostly run the colony. This is one of the few chances we get to sub for our men, be their sex slaves, get lovingly 'raped' and enjoy every minute of it. It's one of the reasons, one of the lesser ones, that I agreed to marry Kon when Mikko and Thorvald suggested it. Having three husbands was tiring until Konrad brought Freya in, but all that man had to do to turn me on was whisper 'wanna go for a sail' and I'd be out of my clothes in a blink. Just the memory of that wedding makes me hot."

Ingmar looked off into the distance with a smile on her face. "I remember the first time the colony ever did it. My sister married into that clan and her fiancé was the first to suggest it. Initially she was horrified and offended. But after a night of thinking it over she went back to him, apologized for getting mad and agreed to the idea. A few years later your grandfather Rolf, after a lot of persuading, got me to say 'yes'. The rest of my pod manned the scull while he stood in the bow over me, bare-chested, and waving at everyone. Your mother was conceived that night, Keitha, so I can't say that it's a tradition I frown on. A few of the First Founders don't care for it but by the time the second generation reached adulthood, it was pretty well established and your generation's opinion is just like Helga's. If nothing else, you can be grateful August is hot." 

Keitha did a perfect 'deer-in-the-headlights'. She took several deep breaths, trying to say something each time and failing. At least she squeaked, "Oh dear lord, what have I gotten myself into? At least you've given me fair warning. I'd rather find out what a spectacle I'm going to be now than after the ceremony. I suppose that means I shouldn't bother with anything under my wedding dress?"

"That's the spirit, girl!" Freya thumped the table, nearly upsetting everyone's coffee. "Now that you've gained enough weight to have it, flaunt it. Keep your back arched and your boobs pushed out; shake 'em and grind your hips. Let everyone know you are one hot number, ripe for the picking. The crowd loves that."

"Oh, gosh." Keitha shook her head.

"And remember, my quarters after lunch, young lady," Ingmar tried to look stern. "A happy husband is a docile husband, Keitha, and the best way to accomplish that is to keep them warm, well fed and thoroughly fucked. Men are really simple organisms, after all. It doesn't take much manage them."

*****

After dinner that night, Keitha sat out on the clan house porch sipping sweet dessert wine and watching the sun sparkle on the fjord. The hour with Grandmother had been very instructive and fortunately had consisted only of a collection of very realistic silicone models. That had been a relief. Nya Hem women were expected to be a lusty bunch but Keitha's hormone supplements had not readied her for a threesome with her own grandmother and some unidentified male. 

But Ingmar had been right. Keitha's introspective nature coupled with the damage to her endocrine system two years ago had left her almost completely unaware of many things women her age took for granted. Who would have thought men got enjoyment out of rubbing their cocks against a woman's breasts or buttocks? Learning to swallow a dildo had taken some work but once she got the idea of straightening out her throat 'like a sword swallower' it had been much easier than she expected. Anal sex looked to be difficult but to her surprise, the idea appealed to Keitha. She could not figure out why but it did. I'll have to start out slow of course, and definitely not with Konrad, but I'm sure I can do that.

So immersed in her own thoughts was she that Mikko's whispered, "Hello, love," startled her.

"Oh, hi Mikko. I was—uh—wool-gathering, I guess. Want the chair? I could sit on your lap . . ."

It was no sooner said than done. And once she was perched on his thighs, Mikko pulled her close and tucked her head down onto his shoulder. He stroked her hair softly.

"I love you, Keitha."

"Mmmm, I love you, Mikko. And I love the others, too, of course, but you will always be my number one."

"Want me to show you how much I love you—again?"

"Mmmm, I'd love it but I'm still sore. How about if I show you something?"

"Your place or mine, bride-to-be?"

Keitha slid off his lap and with a mischievous smile took his hand and pulled him to his feet. She tucked her arm into his and guided him inside, down the hall, up two flights and through the door of her bedroom. He tried to pull her in for a long, deep kiss but she dodged his hands and darted behind him.

"Now, you just hold still. I'm going to take all your clothes off and have fun with you. The only rule is, you don't get to touch me."

"Oh-kaayyyyy . . . May I ask who you've been talking to?"

"Grandma. She said the best way to manage men was to keep them happy so I'm learning how to do that—on you."

"Sounds good to me but I insist on mutual nekkiddity. I'll promise to keep my hands to myself but I want you naked, too."

"Mikko, if I take my clothes off, you won't be able to keep you hands to yourself. I know that much, at least."

"Darling, you underestimate me. Besides, if you are really that good at making me feel good, I won't need to grab you."

Keitha thought about that. Maybe managing men required compromise and negotiation sometimes. Grandmother hadn't said it didn't.

"All right. We'll both undress but then you turn around and bend over with your hands on the bed. I'll put this mirror against the wall so you can see me. Good enough?"

"Yeah!" Mikko kicked off his boots and undid his coverall. In a trice his pale, wiry, hard-muscled backside was in full view. Keitha bit her lower lip. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, she slowly stripped off her blouse and flowing skirt and wriggled out of her underclothing. Things were heating up and she wasn't sure how long she would stay in control. Cocking her head to one side, Keitha smiled and slowly ran her hands down the length of her body. It was still a good feeling to have flesh over her bones and to just barely see her ribs under newly rounded breasts. She raised her hands over her head and shimmied and then at once reached down and slapped Mikko as he started to stand up and turn around.

"Uh-uh, boy. I touch you, tonight, not the other way 'round."

Sauntering to her dresser she pulled open the top drawer and took out a box and a bottle. From the box she pulled a shiny purple glove and slowly, teasingly pushed her hand into it. Fastidiously she tucked the fingers down tight and then wiggled then at her fiancé in the mirror. Taking the bottle in her bare hand she popped open the top and squeezed clear gel onto her fingers. With a mischievous smile she spread his buttocks and began to spread the gel around his anus.

"Feel good, honey?"

His moaned reply made her chuckle.  Keep them warm, well-fed and well-fucked and they're happy and easy to manage. That's got to be the most sexist thing Grandmother has ever said but I guess the men don't complain. Maybe there's something to it. 

Squeezing more gel onto the gloved fingers she pressed the ball of the tips against his anus again and pushed inside. She rotated her wrist to spread it all around the inside and then pushed in to the second knuckle. Now, where's that hard—aha! Now I've got his prostate. We'll start with just a little tickle.

Mikko moaned louder. "Oh baby, I'll give you just two weeks to cut that out! Ahhh . . ."

Keitha reached around his thigh with her bare hand and took hold of his phallus. With just the fingertips she rubbed it up and down the length in time with the tickles inside him.

"Keitha, I'm not going to be able to hold on very long if you keep doing that."

"And what makes you think I want you to hold on for a long time? Maybe I'm looking forward to you squirting all over my hand, hmm?"

She laid her head on his back and rubbed her hard nipples against his thigh. By golly, he was just standing there taking all of this, completely in her power. What a fun idea this was. She upped the pace just a little and was rewarded with a louder moan. Mikko was breathing very deeply now and starting to tremble in the knees. She tickled and rubbed even faster and he began to pant and to whimper. Suddenly she felt his cock throb in her hand and she whisked the palm up to the helmet and caught the ejaculation. She kept massaging his gland until no more came out and Mikko sagged visibly.

"Wow, what a mess, Mikko. Well done, that stud, given that you shot into me twice last night, too." 

The man collapsed on the bed. Feebly he looked up at her and arched an eyebrow. "Your grandmother taught you how to give prostate massages? No wonder your clan is notorious for being a bunch of scheming women. Her husbands must be putty in her hands." 

"Well that is the general idea, you know. The happier we keep you the harder you try to keep us happy. Everybody wins." Keitha washed her hands in the sink. She had given just a thought to rubbing it all over herself but figured that would just enflame any other man who caught a whiff of sex from her. Then she turned out the lights and curling herself up next to his back pulled the coverlet over them.

*****

"What do you mean I can't get pregnant at the Mid-Summer Fest?" Keitha was shocked at Dr. Arikasdottir and more than a little angry.

"Easy, Keitha, there are two reasons why you won't be getting pregnant next week. The first is that we didn't have time to synchronize you with the others because I was too busy trying to get your hormones normalized. If I had been able to start in March instead of June, it would have been easy but getting you healthy was my first priority."

"And the second?" Keitha understood what the doctor was saying but she refused to like it.

"You already are."

"I—I am? Oh, my goodness. The guys will be tickled. I can see the high fives and beer mugs clinking already. Uh—no, there's no sense even asking. I've been getting laid so often by all three of them that there is no way of knowing which is the father until the genetic tests."




Midsummer Fest Ch. 01



"Well, I can tell you it's a boy." Dr. Arikasdottir wore a smug expression. "A hundred years ago we would have had to wait for ultrasound pictures. Now I just read your body's reaction to the embryo. You're carrying a son. Got a name, yet?"

"I—yes, I do. His name will be Rolf Erik Keithasson. If it wasn't for those two I really would have killed myself and this baby would never have been born. They deserve to be his namesakes. And I'll ask them to be his godfathers, too. Oh, doctor, I'm so happy! Thank-you for telling me. I've got to run and tell the family."

*****

The news spread through Grandmother Ingmar's clan at digital speed. As Keitha predicted all three of her fiancé's shared in the congratulations and the beer did flow freely. Seabirds roasted on spits, xeno-cod crisped over coals and six varieties of oysters stretched out on a bed of ice three fathoms long. It was a major celebration.

"So," Helga asked, "are you gonna test to find out which of these stalwart stallions is the new father?"

"I am not! Look at the three of them. Each one is preening and getting slapped on the back in turn. Why should I spoil it for two of them? Besides, I have heard that it is possible in rare circumstances for more than one man's DNA to be involved so let's all just choose to believe that's what happened to me. I'll be having planned babies in the future and getting pregnant on Mid-Summer Fest like most of the other women but tonight—well, I feel it's divine intervention. Pastor Haaken refuses to commit himself one way or another but that's what I believe. This little boy was meant to be. Who his biological father is doesn't matter. What matters is that he will be born into our pod, into my clan and on this world."

Freya and Helga both raised their mugs solemnly and saluted her. "You said it, sister. That is all that matters." 

Freya clambered up onto a table and banged her mug for quiet. She almost got it.

"Clan, family, everyone! A toast to Rolf and Erik, to Mikko, Thorvald and Konrad, to Dr. Arikasdottir and Pastor Haaken and most of all, to little Rolf Erik Keithasson. Cheers and blessings on them all!"

The crowd erupted in cheers that went on for a long time.

*****

Keitha hung head down Konrad's back wrapped in a fur. Her eyes twinkled and her grin spread from ear to ear. The wedding had been properly formal and solemn. All of her new pod members were dressed in their fanciest and the hymns and responses had been sung by the entire village. Once Pastor Haaken formally pronounce them all married to each other she'd been swept off her feet and carried shrieking to the beach. As Grandmother had promised, Keitha had her wedding dress whisked off and then she'd been tethered to the bow for a tour around the fjord. Though the day was hot, the water was cold, Keitha had screamed (mostly for effect) and she expected the teasing would probably go on for a week. Now everyone was riding the hoist to the grain tree groves. The anticipation was thick in the air.

Once in the groves, Keitha sat naked, wrapped up in the fur, Konrad and Mikko on either side of her. She looked around in fascinated curiosity at the Mid-Summer Fest grounds. In a cleared area in the center of the grove the participants and onlookers spread blankets leaving an open area in the center. Four paths led through the crowd to a wide variety of bowers scattered among the trees. Drummers set up on one side of the clearing and as the sun began its descent toward the horizon, people lit torches around the circle. A deep drum started its quiet throb.

"Mikko?"

"Mmm?"

"I've never been to one of these before. What happens, besides the obvious, of course?"

Mikko chuckled. "In Säkerhamn there are about thirty-five women who intend to get pregnant this Fest. Most of them are already married and who they will choose to father this baby is pretty much known. It's like Helga. Three years ago she chose me. This year she'll have Thorvald and after that it will be Konrad's turn. Most women have three or four husbands and they rotate among them. However, there are a few in their late teens who are still single. If they're engaged, they've kept it quiet. If they're not, then they can go with any guy they want. Of course, most of them go with single guys their own age but not always. That's what keeps the tension high, see? When the dancing starts, the singles go first and make their hottest moves. But they don't choose, yet. Then the women who know who they're going with get out and dance and take their men off to a bower. Only then do the young hotties choose and by now all the remaining men are on pins and needles wondering if they're going to get a chance. Only after the last breeder is gone does the general orgy begin."

"And since I'm already married and pregnant, the three of us wait until the orgy?"

"Probably, but if one of the singles picks either Konrad or me—or worse yet, both of us—it will be complicated. I don't expect that."

"I hope not! This is my wedding night, for Pete's sake. I'd better not get left alone."

"Oh you wouldn't be alone," Keitha heard her grandmother laughing softly behind her, "but don't worry about it. Besides, since it is your wedding night you get to dance the start of the orgy. I made sure of that."

"Me?" 

"You, naked."

"But—oh, heck. Everyone's already seen me. Why not?"

The sun dropped toward the horizon sending a red glow through the grove. As Keitha warmed up again after her trip around the fjord she let the fur throw drop from her shoulders and kicked it away from her legs. By now a large portion of the village had gathered onto blankets and folding chairs. Anticipation mounted.

Once the sun was fully behind the mountains men went through the grove setting torches on fire to light up the dancing ground. Through the trees the flickering light showed a number of bowers, all decorated with bright flowers and shining leaves. Keitha looked up into the trees at the year's crop of pods ready to grind into flour and meal for the coming year. Midsummer Day marked one of the hinge points of the year, being the harvest of the grain trees and the seeding of the next generation. The thought made her wriggle and rub her thighs together. Then drumming started.

Identical, red-headed twins jumped to their feet and swayed into the center of the clearing. As the drummers beat out a slow, sensuous rhythm they slowly peeled off their clothing and tossed each piece into the cheering crowd. As more of their skin showed, they danced closer together, rubbing first shoulders, then hips, then breasts and finally pelvises together. Blowing kisses to the howling men, they ran back to their seats. It was a remarkable start to the evening. Though it was a hard act to follow, the other young singles did their best. Clothing disappeared into the crowd, unlikely to ever be returned. Though the men never left their seats at the ringside, whenever a dancer came within reach (which they did frequently) hands reached out to stroke and grope. Perhaps there were hopes that the skin on skin contact would influence the girl's decision. By the time the last unmarried was finished, Keitha had been pulled out of the fur robe and onto Konrad's lap. He kissed and nibbled her neck and ear lobes, driving her to distraction by palming, stroking and tweaking her breasts, belly, thighs and sex.

Once the 'maiden's' finished it was time for the mothers, the mature, experienced women to dance. There was nothing coy, this time, no slow seductive strip. They came into the clearing naked and at once pulled their husbands to their feet to dance with them. What had been anticipation became foreplay. The women pulled shirts and trousers off their eager men, biting their nipples and rubbing stiff phalluses with bellies, hands and buttocks. A few of the women had pulled two or, in one case, all three of their husbands up to dance. The mental image of a family gang bang brought heat to Keitha's loins and face. By now she was stretched across both Konrad and Thorvald's thighs and so aroused that her swollen labia glistened in the torch light.

At last, either holding hands or thrown over a broad shoulder, all the wives were out of the circle and into the bowers. Moans and cries carried through the night as the nubile girls returned to the circle. Their dancing passed through erotic and into pornographic as they posed and teased and began to choose their studs. To his amazement, one of the red heads writhed up to Uncle Gunnar with her tongue stuck out slightly and waved him to come with her. He was still trying to remember her name as he swept her off her feet and trotted into the night.

Now all the girls were gone, but the drums never lost a beat. All eyes turned to Keitha. "Well?" Grandmother asked. "Everyone's waiting, you know."

Right! Keitha curled her feet under her and started her dance as she rose to her feet. It occurred to her that the other girls and many of the women had been taking dancing classes while she buried herself in the computer archives and pored over bits artifacts from the 'people' who had evolved, developed a civilization and disappeared before the First Founders landed. All she had was the simple steps she used when dancing with her friends. They would do. Swinging hips and shimmying Keitha went to the center of the ring. When she reached the center she threw her arms up straight over her head and struck a pose. The drums went silent along with the crowd.

"I dance to fertility! I dance to the fertility of Nya Hem's seas, to the fertility of its soil, to the fertility of Nya Hem's women and most of all, to my own." Keitha ran her hands slowly, voluptuously down her body until they cradled her belly. "And I dance—to yours."

As if by arrangement the drummers began a slow beledi rhythm, dum dum tek, dum dum tek, dum tekatek dum, dum dum tek. Keitha danced. As she danced and swayed, bumped and ground, the crowd took up the rhythm clapping their hands and began to rock in their seats with her. Then other women stood, threw away their clothes and danced with her. Mikko and Konrad stood up, dropped their vests and trousers and danced to her sides. Shoulder to shoulder they danced with her until she turned toward Konrad and ground her pelvis against him. Mikko pressed against her butt, running his hands down her body while she rocked and swayed, eyes shut and mouth open. 

Keitha felt Mikko's now-familiar phallus rubbing between her buttocks and Konrad's against her belly. Both men took pleasure in the heat of her skin and the writhing of her body. Soon, she knew their desire would be more than they could resist and she would be lifted up and carried off to pleasure them with the inside of her body. She smiled.

Other sounds rose beyond the drums. Women still seated squirmed out of their remaining garments and pulled their men on top of them. With their legs spread and knees lifted, they welcomed their men into them. Midsummerfest headed for its climax.

Konrad reached down and grasped her hips. With an easy motion he lifted her off the ground and hugged her, squealing happily, to his broad chest. With Mikko leading through the orgy, he carried her between the trees to a bower and set her back on her feet in front of it.

"Phew! Well, guys, are you taking turns or are you doing me together? And if so, how do you want me?"

Konrad ducked his head to enter, then lay on his back on the padded floor. Keitha's eyes grew wide and her mouth made an 'O' as Mikko reached inside the doorway and pulled out a tube of lubricant.

"Together," he said with a leer, "fore and aft."

Keitha swallowed. "Well," she replied with a rueful expression, "I suppose that's one place I can still be a virgin on my wedding night. Use the whole tube, Mikko; you know I've never done it that way before."

She straddled Konrad and dropped to her knees. Reaching between her thighs she grabbed his cock and began rubbing it up and down her slick pussy. Holding it still she impaled herself on him then lay flat on his chest and lifted her ass. Reaching back, she spread her cheeks.

"Okay, honey, let me have it."

As Konrad began to slowly thrust into her from below, Keitha felt Mikko begin to run his well-greased finger around her pucker. First a single finger entered and massaged her, then two that first massaged then spread apart, stretching her sphincter muscles. They withdrew and were replaced with a large dollop of gel and three fingers. She closed her eyes, concentrating on relaxation.

At last Mikko lay on top of her. She bore down as the blunt helmet of his phallus began its impudent pressure. Slowly he pushed until the head popped through and her sphincters closed behind the head. Eyes still closed she took deep breaths until the pain went away. Now I'm ready. She lifted her bottom and pushed back and Mikko responded strongly. With a couple of grunts he was fully inside her. She could feel both cocks rubbing against each other through the thin flesh that separated them.

"Now," Mikko growled, "now you are ours!"

Both men began to piston in and out of her. Keitha held on tight to Konrad's shoulders with her hands and his hips with her thighs. The pounding went on and on and as they used her she felt heat spreading out from them. Up from both her sex and her ass it spread until her shoulders tingled and her face felt tight. 

"Uh—uh. ah—Oh, god!!" Her cries joined those from around her as men and women exclaimed their ecstasy into the night. At last, fully spent, the three of them collapsed in a stack. 

"We love you, Keitha."

"I love you, too, guys."

Midsummerfest was over for another year.