Conscription

The generator room hummed with a rhythm Junie Calder knew better than her own heartbeat. She traced the conduit lines with calloused fingers, following the current from the main capacitor bank to the auxiliary distribution panel. The reading on her multimeter flickered, steadied, then dropped by three percent. She frowned and marked the spot with a piece of chalk from her pocket.

Three percent meant inefficiency. Inefficiency meant wasted power. Wasted power meant dead children and collapsed defenses. The math was simple. The math was always simple.

"Engineer Junie."

The voice came from behind her, clipped and official. Junie straightened, wiping grease from her palm onto her pants. She turned to face a woman in colony grays, a datapad clutched against her chest like a shield.

"That's me."

"Your assessment is complete. You're required at Central Processing in one hour for your results briefing."

Junie's stomach tightened. She'd been in Haven Colony for six weeks now, long enough to know how things worked. Every new arrival was evaluated. Skills were cataloged. Value was assigned. She'd passed her engineering practicals with perfect scores. She knew she had. But the knot in her gut refused to loosen.

"I'll be there."

The woman nodded and disappeared into the corridor's dim light. Junie turned back to the generator, but her focus had shattered. She closed the access panel and packed her tools with mechanical precision, letting the familiar motions ground her.

Central Processing occupied the old municipal building at the heart of the colony. The walls still bore the faded traces of pre-Fall signage, ghost letters promising services that no longer existed. Now the building housed the machinery of survival. Bureaucracy with teeth.

Junie sat on a hard plastic chair in the waiting area, her hands folded in her lap. Three other new arrivals waited with her, their faces carrying the same mixture of hope and dread. A man with a mechanic's build. A woman who looked like she'd been a teacher before the world ended. A younger man who couldn't have been more than twenty, his leg bouncing with nervous energy.

"Junie Calder."

The name echoed from the doorway. She stood, smoothed her shirt, and walked into the office.

The room was sparse. A desk. Two chairs. A window that looked out onto the colony's main courtyard, where children played in the filtered afternoon light. The man behind the desk was older, his face lined with the particular exhaustion of someone who'd been making impossible decisions for too long.

"Please, sit."

She sat. He didn't offer pleasantries. He didn't smile.

"Your engineering assessments are exceptional. Top scores in mechanical repair, electrical systems, structural maintenance. The colony needs those skills."

Junie felt a flicker of relief. "Thank you. I've been working on the main generator. There's a voltage drop in the secondary conduit that I think I can..."

He held up a hand, and she stopped.

"Your skills are valuable, Ms. Calder. But they aren't sufficient."

The words hung in the air between them. She blinked.

"I don't understand."

"Haven Colony operates on a quota system. Every resident must contribute to at least two essential functions: labor, defense, or reproduction. Your engineering covers labor. But we have more engineers than we need. What we lack is breeders."

The word hit her like cold water. "Breeders."

"The colony's birth rate has declined for three consecutive years. Our genetic diversity is narrowing. Without new blood, without new children, we don't survive. The council has mandated that all able-bodied residents between eighteen and thirty-five participate in the breeding program."

Junie's mouth went dry. "I'm an engineer. I can fix things. I can build things. That has to count for something."

"It counts. It's why you're here instead of being exiled. But it's not enough. You'll be assigned to Commander Mack Calder for your initial sessions. He'll evaluate your compatibility and oversee your integration into the program."

"Sessions." The word tasted foreign on her tongue. "You mean sex."

"We mean breeding. The terminology matters, Ms. Calder. It helps maintain the proper mindset."

She wanted to argue. She wanted to stand up and walk out and find some other colony that would take her on her merits alone. But she knew the truth. There were no other colonies. Not within safe distance. Not with walls that still stood.

"When does this start?"

"Immediately. You'll report to Medical for your examination and induction. Commander Calder will be waiting for you afterward."

He slid a folder across the desk. She picked it up, her fingers numb.

"Welcome to Haven Colony, Ms. Calder. I hope you'll find your place here."

The medical wing smelled of antiseptic and something metallic, like old blood that no amount of scrubbing could fully erase. Junie sat on the examination table, her legs dangling over the edge, the paper crinkling beneath her with every small movement.

Dr. Karna Niles moved with the detached efficiency of someone who had performed this procedure hundreds of times. He was lean, silver-streaked hair pulled back from a face that revealed nothing. He didn't meet her eyes as he prepared his instruments.

"Remove your clothing, please."

Junie hesitated. Then she unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it off her shoulders. She unhooked her pants and pushed them down. She sat in her underwear, arms crossed over her chest, feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

"All of it."

She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall away from her breasts. Her nipples tightened immediately in the cool air, and she resisted the urge to cover herself again. She hooked her thumbs into her panties and slid them down her thighs, past her knees, off her ankles. The paper on the examination table crinkled as she shifted, completely bare now, the sterile air raising goosebumps across every inch of her skin.

Dr. Niles turned, and his gaze was clinical, assessing. He picked up a speculum and a series of vials, laying them out on a tray with practiced precision. His eyes moved over her body without a flicker of desire. She was meat to him. A specimen to be evaluated.

"I'm going to perform a full fertility assessment. This will involve a pelvic exam, blood work, and a series of baseline measurements. You may experience some discomfort. That's normal."

Junie lay back as instructed. The cold metal of the speculum against her inner thigh made her flinch. She stared at the ceiling tiles, counting the cracks in the plaster, trying to detach her mind from what her body was experiencing.

"You're tense." Dr. Niles's voice came from somewhere below her field of vision. "That's counterproductive. Try to relax."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder."

She felt his gloved fingers part her outer labia, the latex cool and impersonal against her most intimate flesh. He spread her open with clinical precision, examining her externally before inserting the speculum. The cold metal slid into her vaginal canal, and she gasped at the intrusion, her walls clenching involuntarily around the device.

"Breathe," he said, adjusting the speculum to open her further. "I need to visualize your cervix."

Junie forced herself to take slow, measured breaths. She could feel him peering inside her, the examination light casting its harsh glow into places no one had seen in years. The click of the speculum widening made her jaw clench.

"Cervix appears healthy. Good color. No lesions or abnormalities." His voice was flat, documenting. "I'm going to take a swab now. You'll feel a slight scraping sensation."

The brush entered her, and she did feel it. A firm, insistent pressure against her cervical opening that made her thighs tense and her breath catch. He rotated the swab with methodical thoroughness, and she felt the bristles scrape against sensitive tissue that sent a strange, involuntary twinge through her lower abdomen. Not pain, exactly. Something more complicated than that.

He withdrew the swab and placed it in a sterile container. "Blood draw next."

The needle pricked her inner arm, sharp and precise. She watched the dark crimson fill the vial, three tubes in succession, her blood leaving her body to be tested and measured and quantified. The sting faded to numbness.

"Now the internal examination. I need to assess your uterine position and ovarian health."

She felt his fingers first, two of them, gloved and lubricated, pressing into her with deliberate slowness. Her body resisted at first, the muscles of her entrance tightening against the intrusion. He paused, waited, then pressed deeper. She felt him curve his fingers upward, pressing against her anterior wall, and her hips shifted involuntarily on the table.

"Still tense. I need you to open for me."

She tried. She breathed out and consciously relaxed the muscles between her legs. His fingers slid deeper, and she felt his other hand press against her lower abdomen, palpating her uterus from outside while his internal fingers assessed it from within. The dual pressure was strange, uncomfortable, and yet she could feel her body responding to the stimulation in ways her mind rejected. A warmth was building low in her belly, and moisture she hadn't willed was beginning to gather.

"Good. Uterus is anteverted, normal size. Ovaries are palpable, symmetrical." He pressed more firmly, and she bit her lip. "I'm going to assess your vaginal tone and elasticity now."

His fingers withdrew, and she felt the brief absence before he returned with three fingers this time, stretching her open with slow, deliberate pressure. She couldn't suppress the soft sound that escaped her throat as he spread his fingers apart inside her, testing the give of her tissues, the capacity of her channel. Her walls tightened around him, and he made a note on his datapad.

"Strong pelvic floor. Good reflexive response." He withdrew his fingers, and she heard the snap of his gloves being removed. "Your reproductive health appears excellent. High fertility markers. Good structural integrity. You'll be an asset to the program."

She sat up, reaching for her clothes. "Can I get dressed now?"

"Not yet. I need to go over the rules."

He pulled a datapad from his pocket and scrolled through it, his eyes scanning the text. Junie sat naked on the table, her clothes clutched in her lap like a shield.

"Rule one: You are available for breeding sessions at any time, day or night, unless specifically exempted by medical or security protocols. Rule two: You will not refuse any assigned sire. Rule three: You will not use contraception or engage in any activity that reduces fertility. Rule four: You will report for all scheduled sessions and assessments. Rule five: You will maintain a positive attitude toward your duties."

He looked up. "Violation of any of these rules results in immediate penalty. First offense: reduced rations for one week. Second offense: confinement. Third offense: exile."

Exile. Beyond the walls. Into the wastes where the raiders hunted and the radiation burned and nothing grew. Exile was death. Everyone knew it.

"I understand."

"Good. You can get dressed now. Commander Calder is waiting for you in the east corridor."

Junie pulled on her clothes with shaking hands. The fabric felt foreign against her skin, like she was wearing a costume instead of her own clothing. She walked out of the medical wing and into the corridor, her footsteps echoing in the empty space.

He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching her approach. Commander Mack Calder. She'd seen him before, directing repairs on the outer wall, his voice carrying over the noise of work crews. Up close, he was taller than she'd realized. Broader. His gray eyes held a weight that matched his posture.

"Engineer Junie."

"Commander Calder."

He pushed off the wall and fell into step beside her. "Walk with me."

She followed. She didn't know where they were going, but she followed.

"You've been briefed on the program." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"And you've completed your medical assessment."

"Yes."

He stopped walking and turned to face her. His eyes searched hers, looking for what she couldn't name. "How do you feel about this assignment?"

The question caught her off guard. She'd expected commands, not conversation. "I don't know what I'm supposed to feel."

"I'm not asking what you're supposed to feel. I'm asking what you do feel."

Junie considered the question. Really considered it. "I feel like I'm being used. Like my body isn't mine anymore."

He nodded slowly. "That's honest. I appreciate honesty."

"Does it matter? My feelings?"

"They matter to me. I'm your primary sire. That means I'm responsible for your integration, your health, your productivity. If you're fighting this, you won't be effective. And we can't afford ineffective breeders."

The word again. Breeder. It grated against what was fundamental in her chest.

"I'll do my duty," she said, and the words tasted like ash.

"I know you will. But I need more than duty. I need compliance. Willing compliance."

He stepped closer, and she caught the scent of him. Sweat and steel and something earthy, something male. Her body responded before her mind could intervene, a flush of heat that surprised her.

"Your first session is tomorrow," he said. "Be at the breeding quarters at dawn. Don't eat beforehand. Dr. Niles will want clean blood work."

"Yes, Commander."

He held her gaze for a moment longer, then turned and walked away. Junie stood in the corridor, her heart pounding, her mind racing, her body caught between resistance and a feeling she refused to name.

The colony hummed around her. The generator she'd repaired. The walls she'd helped reinforce. The children playing in the courtyard, their laughter carrying through the thin air.

She was part of this now. Whether she wanted to be or not.

And tomorrow, she would learn exactly what that meant.