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Quaranteam: Remote Work Ch. 20.5
🕑 Added 2025-06-20 13:00:16 +0000 UTCThe Quaranteam Universe is the creation of CorruptingPower, used with permission.
I am an Army vet, this is not a secret, and I wanted to write a thing about some stuff I’m pretty sure would have happened. To be honest? I saw wilder stuff than this while I was in if you don’t count the plague. I’ll do my best to minimize the jargon and acronyms that pepper military speech and provide translations and explanations for others, but my apologies for how much remains. In case I accidentally leave them in: SPC means Specialist (Enlisted 4), SGT is Sergeant (Enlisted 5), and SSG is Staff Sergeant (Enlisted 6).
For those of you who know: this intermission is what happens when the E4 Mafia meets Oracle.
—-
Chapter 20.5: Intermission 4. My Squad
13 April 2020
It was a normal day on Joint Base Lewis-McChord. Or at least as normal as it ever got with COVID disrupting everyone’s schedules.
“Specialist Colón, What’s going on?” Behind the desk in the small office was Sergeant Ferren, working on a computer. The company Motor Pool always had a lot to do, and despite his relatively low rank he was in charge of most of the maintenance actions in this unit. His pale skin was sun-marked from working on vehicles out on the lot, his gut a bit larger than the Army strictly liked but not by all that much.
SPC Colón, by contrast, was barely five feet and whip-thin. Her own skin was much darker in tone, her dark hair chopped short in a pixie cut since it was easier to keep out of machinery. She stood in front of his desk, feet shoulder width apart and hands together at the small of her back in a precisely appropriate At Ease. “Sergeant, the promotion board is next week. I have enough points to make Sergeant and I’m in my primary zone now, just need that so that I can get a class date.”
“It’s funny you should ask about that, Colón. I was preparing the counseling for you. I am not sending you to the promotion board yet, you have more development to do.”
The small Hispanic woman held stock-still for a moment. The man she was facing was not fooled, she was silent now only because if she opened her mouth she’d catch a huge amount of trouble for disrespect towards her Noncommissioned Officer. It took a moment before she could speak. “May I ask why this is, Sergeant?”
“Just what I said. I do not think you will make a good NCO right now, and need more time on the job.” He went back to typing, obviously trying to finish what was in front of him.
“You sent SPC Boris to the board last month, Sergeant.” She was trying. Really hard.
“And?”
“I have higher maintenance throughput, better fitness scores, a current weapons qualification that’s two shots better than his last one, and no DUIs on my record. If he was qualified to go, then I should get to make the attempt.”
The Sergeant at the desk hit print, and didn’t say anything until he pulled it off the printer. Good old DA form 4856, the counseling form, the Purpose block labeled for board denial. “And you are not seeing the entire picture. I am. Now sign the form and we'll both get back to work.”
Colón bit her tongue almost hard enough to draw blood, but picked up a pen from the cup he kept on his desk and did so. “May I have a copy for my file, please?”
“Sure. Go make one then bring this back.”
She took up the sheet of paper, turned, and only then let the scowl show on her face as she stepped out of the room. The copier was two rooms down, so she needed to make her copy there. Standing next to it was another woman in uniform. A Specialist like her, several inches taller than Colón with an hourglass build and skin about as black as the Ace of Spades. SPC Cox came down here moderately frequently on administrative errands since she worked in the Battalion’s S1 office. Human Resources kept people running around. She looked over at her friend, raised one eyebrow, and simply said “He’s not sending you, is he?”
The shorter Latina shook her head. “No. Handed me a counseling saying…” she looked at the sheet… “that I lack sufficient leadership qualities to become a Noncommissioned Officer. What a bunch of bull-“
“Ah, ah, ah! Swearing!” SPC Cox was grinning broadly as she barely held back giggles. “That’s unprofessional in uniform, you know.”
Colón made a face. “I swear, Staff Sergeant Doremi swoops in as the new Motor Sergeant, rewrites the procedures to work twice as well, personally ends the hazing, actually shows up to talk to soldiers who need it, then goes and ruins it by banning swearing of all things? We’re MECHANICS. And SOLDIERS. And WE GET PISSED.”
“And it spread, too. Commander was impressed, so every section in the Headquarters Company and most of the ones in the Battalion put similar rules in to try to catch up. You know how hilarious it is seeing people stop sentences to correct themselves four times in five minutes?” She got thoughtful. “Actually, Speaking of the Motor Sergeant. Isn’t Staff Sergeant Doremi technically the next step up from Sergeant Ferren? You could talk to him. Especially since the whole thing about soldiers lacking penises not getting promoted seems to be widespread around here.”
Colón sighed as she pulled her copy of the counseling form off the machine. “I already did. Yesterday when I made the decision to ask actively since Sergeant Ferren didn’t do the thing himself. Staff Sergeant Doremi told me that he’d talk to Top if this happened.”
Cox made a face of her own. “First Sergeant Smith is the king of the Good Old Boys Club. Talking to him won’t do anything.”
“I know, and so does Staff Sergeant Doremi, but you know him. He’s going to do everything the right way once before he starts using other tactics. Like the fact that we’re both here, lockdown should have sent us home since it’s not like the vehicles are getting driven.” Colón looked out the window at the dozens of trucks stuck out on the parking lot. “He doesn’t know how long this is going to last, so he made sure the best are here to make sure they don’t rust away to nothing on the line.”
“He always follows through when he says something like that, too.” Cox grinned. “The fact that he’s shredded under that uniform and you can see every line of it when he gets sweaty and removes his jacket helps, right?”
“You know it.”
“And the barracks parties during this little lockdown have been their own brand of entertainment.” Cox looked out at the trucks with her friend.
“Didn’t take you for a party girl.”
Cox shook her head. “I’m not. I just know a couple of medics. Specialist Hunt said they’re going through IV bags almost as fast as they can be ordered thanks to the hangovers.”
“Thought they weren’t supposed to do that anymore?” Colón started walking back towards the door.
“You talking about the IVs or the parties?”
Colón shrugged. “Both.”
“They’re not, but the Senior Medic is using it as a training opportunity. Now come on, you got things to do and I have to get back to my shop.”
***
29 June 2020
Two months later, the lockdown orders were much easier to obey. Nowhere near as many people out there to party with. Nowhere near as much temptation when more than half of the lockers in the bay had black flags on them. They’d run out a while back, too, this last month all the dignity that could be given was a hastily-printed paper one secured to it with green duct tape.
Strict separation. Food delivery. Minimum staffing. Basically, if you didn’t have something that had to be done in a specific location, you weren’t going in most of the time. The cooks were working heavily masked and spread apart to make the most sketchy meals of all time that technically provided nutrients to the soldiers. Some of the brass was in the office every day, tearing out what little remained of their hair as they tried to figure out how to maintain the ability to fight the nation’s wars when it was a stretch to even provide enough assistance to the Air Force and the Washington National Guard to matter. Everyone who even remotely could do so was working from home. Everyone who couldn’t was getting swabbed weekly and trying to work one to a room.
It wasn’t Specialist Lotta’s turn to man the IT Help Desk today, so she was in her barracks room going slowly insane from cabin fever. Her hair, which she allowed to fall in its long, straight, midnight black glory, was disheveled. It had been a couple of days since she cared enough to brush it. Her Army-issued glasses were dirty, her dark eyes sporting deep bags from her newly-degraded sleep schedule. There were only so many air squats, push ups, and crunches one could do to keep moving. Without the ability to go out and do some actual work, with human interaction being limited to “are you still alive” texts every morning, it was all getting to her more and more. All the behavioral health providers (along with anyone who could vaguely assist) were booked with tele-health appointments from now until Kingdom Come, too, and nobody wanted to get the call that there was a sudden opening.
Her phone buzzed with an alert. It took an effort of will for her to look at the now-lit screen. It was from the Brigade SHARP representative. SPC Lotta shook her head. It felt weird in the circumstances to have to keep up with Sexual Harassment and Assault Response and Prevention annual training, but it beat doing nothing. She could have sworn they just did that last month. Maybe there was another incident on post somewhere? Stress made people do strange things. But no, that wasn’t it. There was going to be an emergency series of online meetings, segregated by gender and marital status. Single Females were up first, in less than 30 minutes.
“Okay, that’s weird. Gender split is normal, but marital status? And since when are single women first? Dunno what’s going on, but weird usually isn’t good.” She sat down and powered up her work laptop. “Then again, me talking to myself isn’t exactly encouraging, either.”
It wasn’t the end of the weirdness, either. The next text came from Specialist Hunt, a Medic and fellow Single Female who’d be in the upcoming mystery meeting. “Hey girl! Hope you got some clean uniforms, you’re coming in to the clinic after lunch to do some real work.” Lotta could picture her easily. The social-media loving medic looked like she’d come from a Build-A-Bimbo workshop. Blonde hair, blue eyes, puffy lips, boobs that nobody could agree on if they were natural or fake, everything. Except for her brain. She was sharper than three scalpels and was working through a Nursing degree in whatever free time she could manage.
Lotta shook her head. “Any reason why our guy on duty can’t?”
The text back was instant. “I have no idea, but I’ll be there to help.”
It made sense, given that Hunt would be needed to unlock and manage the rest of the place. “Looks like things are starting, talk to you after lunch.”
The SHARP representative started up her video, and then started talking. What followed for the next thirty minutes was a briefing the likes of which Lotta had never remotely experienced. Or conceived of, really, which given her reading history was really saying something. Who had ever heard of a sexually transmitted vaccine before? Especially one that meant each man would need to have several women assigned to them? AND it meant a permanent bond? But then came the kicker. “The most important part of the military adoption of the Oracle and Vaccine programs is that we are emphasizing internal matches. Those who are married or engaged are pairing with their significant others first, but for you all this means finding a match from within the Army. Most often, it will be from within the Battalion or Brigade, almost certainly from the same post in order to ease reorganization. Once this rolls out to most of America, they’ll be using a public website. Not us. We have been tasked to set up a clean computer lab with a direct connection to an Army internal server for this in order to make sure the force stays at as high a level of readiness as possible. Once we are done with our phase one, it will open up to civilians who are willing to join the Army life.”
The meeting ended shortly after that, but as Lotta got her MRE from an impersonal delivery to her door her thoughts were racing. There had been a lot unsaid in that briefing, but reading between the lines was very easy. If married and engaged soldiers were getting paired to their significant others first, and the priority was to get everyone to a minimum of protection, that meant every one of them was going to be sent to a single soldier. That… was not good news, given the dubiously sterling quality of what that left for matches. Even given the dramatically lopsided death tolls from these diseases, women in the service were still outnumbered.
She took a few minutes to run and get cleaned up properly, then got dressed. Uniform on, mask on, gloves on. A short walk to the Aid Station, and then she was getting swabbed in by the duty medic. This test was… different. There were two indicators, for one. COVID and DH. Only after both came back negative was she allowed to go into the office to start working on setup. Hunt came in just behind her. And immediately traded her MRE, since both of them got ones they despised and the other had one they tolerated. They found a few things they expected in the room. Some desks and chairs, a printer, network plugs that weren’t actually working and required a high-priority call to someone to re-enable. Alongside that, though, were four thick laptops, a small server, what looked like an encryption device, and cabling. The stations weren’t going to be plugged into the open internet. Things were going to be secure.
Lotta looked around and found a sheet of paper on top of one of the laptops. “Okay, looks like there’s at least a one-page setup guide, but everything needs to be connected first. Hunt, let’s start by arranging these desks so that we can run the right amount of network cable.” The two got started, moving tables and equipment to where they would end up before getting started stringing them together. Her phone rang before long. Colón was calling. “Hey, you’re on speaker. Hunt’s in here with me, what’s up?”
“You’re one of the four eligible bachelorettes of Headquarters and you’re asking me that? Come on, girl, there’s exactly one thing I could be asking about. Who do you want to pair up with?” The Hispanic girl was predictably straight to the point.
Cox’s voice sounded out from that side of the line. “You even gotta ask? She wants Staff Sergeant Doremi. Same as you, me, and probably Hunt too. Not exactly a secret that he’s the only person in the unit who is neither taken nor aggressively tapped into the Manosphere or Good Old Boys Club.”
Hunt giggled. “Yep. I know you three are down to share, but if that briefing was right they’re going to try to pair us up with different people for protection.”
Colón sounded irritated. “Yeah, but the lady also said every guy needs several women to actually be protected. We might as well pick the one good guy around. It’ll work for us, it’ll work for him. Only people who lose are the idiots who don’t realize we don’t owe them anything. Only question is, how?”
Lotta squinted at the paper in front of her, then sharply looked up at the Oracle rig she was tasked to set up for use as quickly as she could. “I think I may have an idea.”
***
4 July 2020
Hunt looked at her clipboard in the waiting room. “Sergeant First Class Shepherd, Staff Sergeant Doremi, Corporal Guy, and Corporal Yu? Thanks for coming on short notice on a holiday when your turn came up. Come in and take a seat. Please do not remove your protective gear, the plexiglass shields are not fully closed and sealed. They will only help keep some particles off of you. We have disinfected the stations. Please remember what the briefing said, the survey is going to be both long and painfully detailed, but it is important to answer everything as honestly and completely as possible. You may use the dictionary application on your computer if there are any terms you do not know.”
The four men took their seats, but the blonde medic had eyes for exactly one of them. Staff Sergeant Johnathan Doremi had the kind of blended ancestry you could only really call “American.” Brown hair and eyes, a medium if rather muscular build, and a voice that had a lot of gravel in it from an old throat injury from before he went to Basic. The rumor mill had a million ideas about what caused it, but he wasn’t confirming anything.
Hunt walked around to make sure the four of them were in the survey and answering questions before the next part. Lotta had told her that this particular server had a local function for processing. It couldn’t be manually activated, but given the urgency of the mission and how many support staff had died it was needed. The best way to activate it was to unplug the cable connecting the encryption device from the open internet. Leave the power on and the keys loaded, and the server will think everything else is fine and activate the backup until it can reconnect and update. Hunt found the cable with the blue tag on it and surreptitiously pulled it. Nobody noticed but her, nobody reacted. Looked good. The four men present finished their surveys, shaking their heads at some of it.
All four passed by Specialist Cox on the way out, signing the roster to say they had completed their part and joining the growing list of names to do so. She nodded, stepping out into the waiting room. “Specialists Colón, Hunt, Lotta, Cox.” She looked around. The waiting room consisted of exactly those four people now that she was standing in there with them. “Specialist Colón, it seems like the next people in line after your group haven’t arrived yet. Did you send the reminder text?” She was grinning.
“I’m sure I did. After all, the group BEFORE us did. I’ll send a reminder once we’re done with our surveys.” Colón was many things. Actress was not one of them, but since everyone present was already in on it that much didn’t matter.
Hunt led them to the exam room they’d spent the time to set up. With the plug pulled, it wasn’t like anyone else could actually take Doremi before them… and it wasn’t like their responses were being sent to the full central server to be processed against anyone else. Still, no use dragging it out. She gave the exact same introduction speech, and the four of them got to work. Demographic information, family history (both countries of origin and diseases), physical dimensions. Colón couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy towards Cox’s bra size as she put in her own A cups there. Then the questions got more… invasive.
“Why the heck do they need to know if I’m into forniphilia? What the heck even is… inanimate objects? Really?” Lotta’s head tilted to the side as she tried to comprehend it.
“Do dildos count?” Hunt kept plugging in answers.
Cox put in a couple more of her own. “Some of these are easy to say Heck No to. At least, I really hope Doremi isn’t into corpses.”
“Do vampires count?” Hunt challenged.
“I’ve seen both toys and role playing in this survey,” Colón interjected. “Pretty sure that means the answer to both of those is no.”
“You think he’s into using toys?”
Colón shrugged. “Dunno for sure, but he’s a mechanic isn’t he? Whatever you all do, though, DON’T put that you love swearing!”
Cox looked over at her through the plexiglass shields. “That sounds like it was a personal reminder more than anything.”
This continued for another twenty minutes or so. Lotta was the first to finish. “Okay, I see him, and I’m matched up at 89%. Remember, pick him but DON’T SUBMIT YET.”
“93%, ready to go. I got an A in Doremi.” Cox grinned at her screen. It wasn’t even close, the next closest in the system was in the low 70s.
Colón was next. “90% here. Looks like we got SOMETHING right.”
Hunt finished last after inputting a few more carefully-considered answers. “And I have him at 83.”
Lotta took a deep breath. “Okay, time to make this work. Everyone submit on three. One… Two… THREE.”
All four of them received confirmations. All four of them received alerts that transmission to central was pending connection. Importantly, all four received the option to send the confirmation page to the printer. They finished, and Hunt stood up to retrieve them. Somewhat bouncier than her usual, it must be said. “Excellent! Since all four of us have successfully chosen matches from Oracle, it’s time for paperwork and the vaccines.” She left the room briefly, coming back with a container the size of a shoebox. “Cox, your turn.”
The Human Resources Specialist took a breath of her own, going over the carefully-rehearsed lines. “Ladies, in this box are four syringes and eight pieces of paper. The syringes contain doses of the vaccine Serum, to be administered by Specialist Hunt. Each of you will have two papers. The first is a Record of Vaccination, I have already filled out the Serum information so I just need you to fill out administrative info, sign, and let Specialist Hunt sign as administered. The other is an Oracle Program Delivery Form, DA 6969-R.” She had to pause at the chuckles from the others. “Fill out the middle box on the bottom, I’ll fill out the first one, and Staff Sergeant Doremi will do the last upon delivery. Hunt, you need to fill out the first box for mine. As soon as all forms are completed and injections given, you will stand by in the waiting room for two hours for observation. Lotta and Colón, your delivery will be at that time. Hunt and I have to run this facility for the rest of the day, so we will be delivered tomorrow morning. Lotta, make sure you fix the machine before you go. We got what we’re after. Any questions? Good.”
***
The NCO barracks were definitely a notch better than the Junior Enlisted ones. At least, that’s what Lotta thought as she and Colón stood in front of the door that led to the room belonging to one Staff Sergeant Doremi. She was also, to put it lightly, horny out of her mind. The pamphlet said that shouldn’t have happened just yet. Then again, she’d wanted to screw his brains out for the last six months, so the fact that she was about to get to do so with official permission from the President was probably contributing.
Colón reached out and knocked. There was the sound of motion inside, and his rough voice sounded out “One second! Let me get my mask on!” A moment or two later, the masked-up man opened the door. Besides the mask, he was in uniform pants and brown shirt, feet in green socks but no boots on. His eyes showed a mix of concern and curiosity. “Colón? Lotta? What are you two coming to my door for?”
Lotta held out a manilla folder. “Congratulations, Sergeant. We are your first two matches through Oracle. Just sign here, and we can get to the fun part.”
“That was unbelievably fast. Weren’t you two in the group right after me?” He took the folder, pulled a pen out of his pocket, and got to reading it.
Colón nodded. “We were, but both of us got good matches to you. We were even talking beforehand about how much we hoped it would be you.”
“Are you sure about this?” He looked at them again, the gaze a very different one than they were used to. Exciting, in its own way. “You got the same information I did. Once we go through with it, there’s no going back.”
“More than anything.” Lotta was just as serious as he was asking. “I’ve wanted to ask you on a date for a long time. Only reason I haven’t is because you… you’re an NCO in my same unit. You would have told me no.”
“I see.” He signed the two forms. “I’m assuming you’re going to make copies and file these?”
Lotta smiled. “Once we get through the fun part. One question remains.”
“Which is?” He raised one eyebrow at her.
“Is there anyone in the rooms next to yours, or do I have to be quiet?”
The three of them went into the room in a hurry, the door clicking closed behind them. It wasn’t exactly a large space, but at the moment they only cared about one part of it: the bed. Seconds later, Lotta and Colón got his pants off, his impressive dick bouncing free. Briefly, anyway, Lotta had it down her throat before the cooler air had any chance to really affect it. When the first drop of precum hit her tongue, the screaming orgasm was muffled by the tastiest gag she’d ever had. Before long she was on all fours on the bed, Doremi ramming her from behind. Colón took the opportunity while the other two were busy to strip out of her own clothes, loving how their eyes were on her. She took her motions more seriously. Smooth, sensual. Colón ran her hands along her body, drawing his eyes to her hard abs, her perky if tiny tits, her shaved mound. When he came, though, Colón had to dive forward to catch Lotta and keep her from falling off the bed. As soon as Doremi got his legs working again, he pulled out his sleeping bag to at least have a place to put her as she muttered “imprinting” over and over again.
But then it was Colón’s turn. The couple of minutes he had to recover were almost enough. He had a hunch, one that was proven correct when he pulled her onto the bed next to him, hard and naked bodies pressed together. “You’ve always been tough in the workshop and maintenance bays, but something tells me that’s not what you want here, is it?”
She shook her head, and he grabbed her by both wrists.
“Glad to know my hunch was right.” She was already soaking wet with arousal. When he rolled himself on top of her he found her already spread and ready. He pressed down into her, his weight pinning her, and took her for his own. Over and over again he pushed into her until he could go no further, only encouraged by her soft moans. It took longer, but eventually he also came into her. Colón was no longer quiet at that point, but he solved the noise problem by kissing her deeply as she screamed into him, as her body clenched down on him with almost painful force until she, too, passed out
He got up and cleaned up, but all things considered it was impressive that he had any energy left at all to even make it back to bed. He put Lotta in the bed with Colón, then set up as comfy a spot on the floor as he could manage with his sleeping bags and mat before falling asleep himself.
***
There was a knock at the door in the morning, jolting him out of some very pleasant dreams. Doremi answered it after struggling out of his sleeping bag. “Cox? Hunt? What are you two doing here this morning.”
Both suddenly held out forms. “We also matched with you. Sign here?”
He looked over his shoulder at the two still-sleeping forms of the other girls. “I’d ask what the chances were, but I suspect that chance had nothing to do with it. Alright, let’s go.”
***
6 July 2020
Nobody looked forward to getting called to stand in front of an angry commander. Staff Sergeant Doremi along with Specialists Colón, Hunt, Lotta, and Cox were standing rigidly at attention in front of their angry commander, confirming that no, it was not something to look forward to. Captain Ira’s face was red with rage, and his invective had been long, inventive, and colorful entirely out of proportion to the promise he’d made some time before to keep from cursing in uniform. His First Sergeant was standing behind him and to the left, arms crossed and a dark scowl on his dark features.
Seeing the opportunity, though, Doremi had to interject. “Sir, if I may speak on behalf of my squad?”
“Is that what you’re calling it? This little arrangement means that three of my men who could have been protected are fully vulnerable!”
“Not to put too fine a point on it, but if you put a gun to their heads, name any other single male soldier in the Brigade, and tell them to have sex or die? All four of the women before you would tell you to just shoot them.” The fact that he was still standing at precise attention added a certain something to the delivery, it must be said.
The commander didn’t say anything for a moment, thinking hard as evidenced by the vein throbbing in his forehead. He turned to glare at the four women in question. “Do you have anything to say for yourselves? Something to perhaps stop me from initiating separation on all four of you by the end of the day?”
Colón was shaking in her boots, but managed to keep her voice level. “Staff Sergeant Doremi is very nearly correct, sir, but there is another point besides that. The briefings we got emphasized that nobody could be forced into this with anyone we did not want, by order of POTUS. Everything was encouragement, striving, and prioritization, but in the end the decision was ours.”
Cox and Hunt looked at each other and nodded. Hunt looked back at the commander much more calmly than her friend. “The other point is that we five represent a quarter of your remaining active workforce. Too many people are either dead or not able to do what they need to. If you kick us out, you don’t really have a company anymore. Especially since we’re all vaccinated now, and can do more than we had been.”
The words also had some extra impact coming from someone who looked like she modeled for blow-up dolls. Bit of a contrast from the incisive wisdom the actual statement contained. Captain Ira sat back down. He very obviously wanted to say something. He also very obviously couldn’t. “I will consider the statements you have laid out. Expect to be doing so again on a Sworn Statement later. For now, get back to work. Dismissed.”
All five of the people in front of the desk saluted. When the commander returned it, they all left. As the door closed behind them, though, they thought they heard something strange. First Sergeant Smith, who had been standing menacingly silent, laughing like a hyena until he couldn’t catch his breath.
Comments
Gary Coleman
This story is just another way of saying that, in a fight, most women would choose a bear... and in regards to the mentality of a LOT of the men that served in the military... I don't blame these women one bit!
Fumtu
... And I also think that in this case, the specialists have demonstrated what makes them special...
