Choice of the Gallant_Paradox Equation I

by Sharon L Reddy

  Dutch rode the city streets. The girls were all addicts, scared and abused. They really wanted his protection. After he removed several 'supervisors,' they believed he could give it to them. He sent them to Clete and Lane, nearly thirty of them. He found the man in gray recruiting, with his fists and an injector.

  "Get away from her. Do it now. I'm not supposed to kill you. If you use that injector, I may not be able to keep my promise."

  "I don't know who you are, but you'd better mind your own business. My boys don't like nosy people."

  "This is my business. I'm Dutch. One of the Gallant boys. Your operation has just been acquired. You've been fired. Get away from that girl."

  "Get him boys."

  There were only five of them, hulking brutes and slow. Dutch finished with them just as the man in gray injected the girl of about fifteen. She screamed and he slapped her down. It was nearly the last thing he ever did.

  Dutch held him in the air and looked in his eyes. He was shaking with rage. He wasn't going to be able to keep his promise. Then the girl whimpered.

  "Thank her. I don't want her to see me rip your heart out. Say thank you and run. Run fast."

  "Th...Thank you."

  He set the man on his feet and he ran. Dutch picked up the sobbing child and put her on the bike. He had to strap her to the backrest. She reached out an unsteady hand, touched the tears on his cheek, then passed out. He rode to the house and through the door Lane opened for him. A path had been cleared for him through the litter on the walk. Ten pieces of litter

  "Bring her this way. I've got a room just for her."

  "I found the man in gray, Lane. He beat her and injected her. I didn't finish with his boys fast enough to stop him. I've never wanted to kill anyone like I did him. She stopped me. She didn't need to see what I would have done. If she hadn't been conscious, I couldn't have stopped myself."

  "I know, Dutch. Even I felt your pain and anger. It was real rough on Clete. Inject her with this, then use the medunit on her. Both will lessen the effect of the drug in her system. She'll sleep through the worst of it. When you're done, find us. The drug they're on has an additive. The girls you sent and the ones who were here have real needs. Detox takes three days. We have nine more cities on five worlds, then we go back to the show. We'll meet the gray man and his bosses on the second world the show hits. You have to not kill him again on the first. It'll be easier. Door at the top of the stairs when you're done here."

  Dutch nodded and went to work on the child. They couldn't 'reverse' the drug, but they could block the addiction. Lane would tell him when she'd awaken. He would be there and he'd get her home. He'd thought he was prepared when he opened the door.

  "Whoa! Easy, easy. I'm here to help. Slowly. Help! Lane, I'm being smothered."

  "They can't help it, Dutch. Clete's on his way. He synthesized something to help with detox."

  "Damn! I hope he... hurries."

  "I did. Here use this on them. Don't worry if you lose track. Extra doses won't hurt. Unh. Did you say three days, Lane?"

  "Yes, and nine... cities."

  "Done."

  Dutch was sitting beside her when the girl awoke. She was shaking and sweating. She grabbed for him, but he held her off.

  "It's the drug they gave you. You're almost through. We got a blocking agent into you to prevent the addiction. I can put you back to sleep if you want me to."

  "No. Oh! Find me something! Something to do!"

  "Can you cook? There are a lot of women here who need food. They're all the way addicted. My brothers and I are... "

  "Busy, I'll bet. I'll cook. It's better if... I think you should show me the kitchen, then go away. I know what the stuff does. I'll fight it. It'll just be easier if you're not close."

  "I'm Dutch. I'll show you the kitchen. What's your name?"

  "Chrissa. On second thought, you go on. I'll find the kitchen."

  Dutch grinned. She'd be out from under the influence of both drugs in a few hours. He'd take her home as soon as she was. Until then, he'd stay out of the kitchen. Clete was sleeping. He wished he could sleep, but his teeth felt like they were rattling. Clete purred in his sleep.

  "Chrissa is cooking for us all. Some of you. Damn! Some of you go help. Bring... ow... easy... food back for us. Clete! Wake up! Go ahead. Wake him."

  "Oh. Hello. Take a nap, Dutch."

  "Lane needs one. I'm... fine."

  "You heard. I need a nap. Clete, stop purring!"

  Dutch needed a rest by the time all the women had been fed. Lane told him Crissa was ready to go home and he smiled as he headed for the kitchen. It was exactly the break he wanted.

  "Hi, Chrissa. Ready to go home?"

  "Can you get along without a cook?"

  "Yes, the drugs are wearing off. We'll be making coffee and passing out pain killers for the next day-and-a-half."

  "Dutch, a lot of these girls aren't much older than I am. That man did the same thing to them as he tried to do to me. He likes to beat them up. He deserves what you wanted to do to him."

  "I know. It will happen, Chrissa. He won't get any more girls. I promise."

  He took her home and was very surprised when she kissed him. She whispered, "It wasn't all the drug." He grinned as she ran in the front door. Her parents were good ones. She was proof of it. She'd called them, as soon as she awakened. Her father stepped out of the door, as he pulled away, quickly. He felt nice, but he already had all the thank-yous he could handle. He rode back to the house and sighed. His teeth were rattling again.

  It wasn't fun, but Clete found helping the women very pleasurable and his total understanding, including of what the drug did to them how, assured them of their identity as individuals. There was even laughter and shared humor. The purring was an irritation, but he didn't really resent it, nor look forward to the end of it. Clete would share their suffering, just as he did their pleasure and gratitude.

  Withdrawal wasn't easy for any of them. The women shook and cried and begged for the drug. Clete held the young ones who were terrified. Dutch and Lane did their best to help, but he was their most effective detox agent. Small doses of pain killer were given to the girls he said needed them badly. None of the girls had been addicts before they were recruited with an injector. There would be no relapses among them. Then they moved and started on a new city. When they rode their bikes back to Melissa after finishing that one, Dutch climbed off his and sighed. Clete raised an eyebrow and Lane smiled and nodded.

  "What's the matter, Dutch?"

  "I wish they hadn't been quite so grateful, Lane."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'm tired of my teeth rattling."

  "You're just plain tired. We need rest. Leave the bike and hit the spa. Clete can load it. I'd love to see their faces when they find out we busted their sideline on five different planets on the same three days."

  "Isn't that telling them something we don't want them to know?"

  "Do you want them to believe the man in gray when he tells them he's seen us in the show on one of the same days?"

  "No. You're right. Who'd believe it? Lane, what's wrong? Clete! Help me with him. The couch. Lane?"

  "He's dizzy, Dutch, but not... in trouble."

  "I'm... all right. It all came back. I can see... forever again. Most of the dross is gone. Just one path again. All the roads not taken... aren't there. I'm fine. Go on. Get some rest. I'll look a bit."

  They spent forty-two days on five worlds, with recovery time between, all on the same three days, then landed Melissa on the Merriment ten minutes after they'd dropped Frake and Merith off. They started rehearsals and were ready when they landed two days later. Another beauty pageant was about to go on. Clete looked up in surprise when Frake walked over to where they were assembling risers.

  "Exasperated? You feel like you're growling under your breath."

  "Good description, Clete. They haven't done any paring down at all."

  "I thought the place was too crowded. L
eft it all to you?"

  "I hope you boys don't mind. You and Merith are going to judge the preliminary rounds. We'll never get this thing on otherwise. No real problem. The scoring sheets are simple. This is all talent and personality. Beauty we leave to the judges picked by the sponsors. This is an all human pageant. You'll even know if the music is good. I'm going to visit the circus and have a look around."

  "Frake you're going to find out they're paying too. Don't mention us. We have to do this one ourselves. It's very nasty. People will get killed if it's not handled exactly right. There are a whole bunch of bad apples in that barrel."

  "Understood, Lane. I'll stick to my regular routine of 'Hi, we're the other attraction. How are the crowds?' and leave it at that."

  "Good. We'll do our best here. Later."

  Merith had to remind them everyone wasn't perfect. They finally started giving realistic scores after they'd had to sit through two very bad performances twice. Merith was very fair. If they handed her something unrealistic, she called the entire group of six for a repeat. She was also good at keeping the contestants from trying to influence them. Dutch thought she was a little too good. He didn't really meet anyone.

  The contestants were grouped by type of performance, but the groups weren't all singers together, then all dancers. Just as they began to get tired of something, the type of performance changed. The 'personality interviews' were intersprersed with them as well. Merith noted there was a great deal more to Frake's job, and Frake, than was apparent on the surface. They all agreed. He'd set it up so what could have been a tedious task was actually pleasant.

  "You know, I'm edgy. My teeth feel, well, funny."

  "Merith, you're sitting too close to Clete. He's purring. Our teeth have been rattling for days."

  "Purring? I don't understand, Dutch."

  "Neither do we. He doesn't even know he's doing it. You must have a fairly high psi rating. Most people don't... That's why you're so good at estimating a house and knowing what people need!"

  "How about that? It's good for something after all. Six more, then I'll tabulate. Uh, oh, three of these list their talent as martial arts. I don't know anything about them."

  "Don't worry. Just watch for gracefulness. We'll judge competency. That we do know."

  They got to the last contestant and things came to an abrupt halt. Lane expected it, but it didn't surprise Dutch when Clete suddenly stood either.

  "Damn. Stop! I'm not going to sit here and watch you injure yourself. What's the matter with your sensei?"

  "Clete, calm down. Oh, well, there he goes."

  "What's he doing, Dutch? I thought she was pretty good."

  "She's practiced very hard, Merith, but she's practiced wrong. Give him five minutes. She deserves another chance."

  "Dutch, a judge can't help a contestant. It's not fair."

  "Lane?"

  "Merith, he couldn't let her go on. She was causing herself pain. We saw it too. She nearly dislocated her shoulder. She'll do something else. Wait'll you hear this, Dutch. You think Clete's purring. Hi, Clete."

  "Lane, you knew this was coming."

  "I also knew she wouldn't hurt herself badly before you stopped her. She needed what you showed her or she might have really damaged herself, Clete."

  "Probably. She took some private lessons, but hasn't started university classes with a new sensei yet and has been practicing on her own. I told her we'd give her a few minutes. She said she'd actually planned on doing something else, but there were so many singers she changed her mind."

  They waited for her to change and warm up. She came back out and started to sing in a clear, sweet, soprano. She sang the words, "Someday, my prince will come," and Dutch moaned in pleasure. She made the finals and a friend.

  "Hi. I'm Dutch. You just sang my favorite song."

  "I'm Sabitha Berke. Sabbi. I didn't think anyone would know it. It's ancient, but I've always loved it."

  "Mid-twentieth century Disney; Snow White. We've got a complete collection. Clete's even got a perfectly preserved cel. Fantasia's a close second, but Snow White is my favorite."

  "You're kidding. I thought I was the only person in existence who thought Snow White was the greatest of the classic animations."

  "It was the first of it's kind. Look, we're done here. I'm no longer a judge. I don't think there's any rule that says we can't have dinner together. Would you be my guest?"

  "I'd like to, but I doubt it would make my mother happy. She worries about me. She didn't want me to do this. She's outside pacing."

  "Some people have a low opinion of beauty pageants."

  "Some worlds only have them for females, don't have a university grade-point minimum for entry and prizes are money. We have one for a six-year sports medicine scholarship called the Junior Apollo Pageant that makes the competition in this one look light. I feel sorry for some of those poor boys. Two years ago a pair of mothers got in a fist fight, when the artistic director said one of two in blue needed to change. My mom just thinks it's too much to do right now, but I want that scholarship for doctoral studies. I'm not counting on it, especially after seeing the competition, but it would certainly be nice not to have to scramble to put together a bunch of little ones for tuition."

  "Dutch, take her mother too. They need you with them. Try not to break anyone."

  "Right, Lane. That's it. We're having dinner. Is your mother as beautiful as you are?"

  "More. She's why I like Snow White so much, and she looks like her. When she's not worrying about me, she's a lot of fun."

  "Let's not keep her waiting. She's probably worried already. By the way, I liked your answers to the questions too. Ah, your daughter is right. You are very beautiful. I'm Dutch. I'm your escort for this evening."

  "Escort?"

  "Yes. Too many nasty people around. You're Snow White. How did you step out of my dreams?"

  "Snow White was a young girl. I'm almost fifty."

  "I didn't say off the screen. I said out of my dreams. I like my dream women grown up."

  "Sabbi, we have an escort. My name's Rose."

  "It would have to be. Wait. Let me think. Oh, yes. I put them... there."

  Sabbi and Rose stared at the red roses he had pulled from the air and handed to them. Dutch loved it. He had spent days working out the math for the pocket of nontime just above his shoulder and stocking it with roses. He was using it for the first time and was delighted with the effect.

  "Just a little trick copied from a real master. Took my brothers and me a long time to figure out how he did it. Now, I think dinner, then a show, a little dancing… Oops, I forgot. Sabbi has a curfew. An early evening then. A concert? There's one in the park a few blocks from here."

  "The Grennert symphony with Braslerc conducting. I'd decided it probably wasn't a good idea for the two of us and was a bit disappointed we'd miss it."

  "I'm delighted to be able to assure you don't, Rose. I'm in heaven. A beautiful woman on each arm."

  They had a wonderful time at dinner. Rose was a Disney authority. She taught media history at a small arts college in a distant city. Sabbi was a sociology student at the university in the same city. They were walking to the concert when a gang of young thugs attacked them. Dutch was careful.

  "Good. I didn't break any of them. Addicts. Injectors in their pockets. I hate drugs, but they seem to be a symptom of societies that haven't reached the rewarding-work-for-all stage. Improvements in drive design will bring the travel time down and in fifty years you'll be part of the Fed and it just won't be. Sabbi, call the authorities. They'll put them in rehab. Maybe it'll take with one or two. Sabbi?"

  "Where did you learn that? How can you move so fast? There were six of them and they were armed."

  "Martial arts are a family tradition and I got a lot more training when I attended the academy. I move that fast because my father isn't human. They were carrying weapons, but they really don't know how to use them. Now, let's call the authorities and go to the conc
ert."

  Rose laughed and Sabbi made the call. Dutch took them to the concert and escorted them to their hotel. Rose said she didn't have a curfew. She and Dutch were dancing in the hotel lounge when Lane walked through the doors. He met them at their table.

  "You were right, they needed me. Rose, this is my brother, Lane."

  "Hi, Rose. I'm sorry to end your evening, but we need Dutch."

  "I know someone who's expecting trouble when I see one. Thank you, Dutch. It was a nice evening."

  "I enjoyed it immensely. Don't wait outside tomorrow. Come in. I'll see you to your room."

  "No, I think I'll stay here awhile."

  "Lane?"

  "She'll be fine. Trouble is other places. Goodnight, Rose. I'll wait, Dutch. Don't be long. We've got a time limit."

  Dutch said goodnight and followed Lane. He caught up with him a few steps down the back stairs of the hotel.

  "What's up?"

  "Men with injectors in hotels, with weapons at the theater, sabotage at the circus. A very busy night. Clete is going to get hurt. So am I. Melissa is in the basement. We have to be several places at nearly the same time. There's just enough difference to make it seem possible. This is why we needed to learn the healing technique. Don't worry when we're under for a long time. We come through."

  "I don't like it."

  "I won't either. It's going to hurt. I muscled in on the circus earlier. Clete located a dozen roustabouts who needed firing and two performers who are addicts. One of the owners was the dealer. I bought him out. The other two owners were delighted. First stop Radmort Suites."

  They cleared five hotels, then removed six men at the circus. They repaired damaged equipment intended to injure performers and got rid of poisoned feed intended to kill animals. Lane put a hand out to stop them just before they went back into the theater where the pageant was being held.

  "This is where things get rough, Dutch. These guys are different. They're pros and they're after us. I don't know how many you have to take alone after Clete and I go down. We get nine together. I sent everyone else away. Get ready. Clete, backstage. I'll take the balcony. Dutch, house. Go!"

  Dutch ducked the beam and went after its source. He found him and went after the next. He heard firing on the stage and in the balcony. He started counting. When he got to eight, he felt Clete get hit. At nine, Lane. He took out the tenth and got wary. Everyone left would be looking for him. The tenth man had made a lot of noise. He decided he was in a hurry. He made himself a target. At least five more.