by George Olney
Frenchy nodded. "I guess so. She says he's staying at the Hold, right now. He's becoming pretty big among the Tribes and she really likes his music. Says he's a pretty nice guy, as well."
Dallas noticed Justa had drifted in while Frenchy was setting up the music player, but the girl simply stayed in the background, curious. Dallas was a bit ambivalent about Justa, but she felt the girl had the potential for being okay if she'd just loosen up.
She forgot Justa as the holo lit up and Dallas found herself looking at one of the ugliest men she'd ever seen. His large head, framed by long curly hair, consisted of a slightly sloping forehead, bushy eyebrows, close set eyes, large nose and lantern jaw. In ridiculous contrast, a long pointed mustache, curled up at the ends, decorated his upper lip and a little triangle of beard sat beneath his bottom lip. The style reminded her of the Spanish nobleman in a pirate movie or one of the Three Musketeers. What she could see of his body was large, hairy and muscular. The guy almost looked like a cross between a gorilla and a human, with emphasis on the gorilla!
All of that was forgotten when he lifted an instrument that looked like a mixture of guitar and banjo and began to play.
For a minute, Frenchy listened to the strummed, jangling chords, then began to smile widely as female accompanists began to sing. The music was happy and lively. It got under your skin and made you want to...
Grinning at Dallas, who grinned back, Frenchy called, "He-e-e-ey, babe!"
Dallas answered, "He-e-e-ey, babe!"
Immediately, the two began to dance towards each other, swaying and prancing in time to the music. Meeting behind a grinning Grae and surprised Justa, they bumped hips several times then began what was obviously an old and well known dance routine in time to the happy music coming from the player's speakers.
Grae was enjoying himself hugely, nearly as much as the two sublimely smiling dancers. He loved to watch Frenchy dance. Watching them, he decided Dallas was as much a trained professional as his wife. The two women were old friends, using a skill they obviously both loved, having fun. He found himself nodding in time to the music as Frenchy and Dallas pranced around each other, swaying to the quick beat, punctuating the chorus with hip bumps and the occasional hand slap. Those two girls, he decided, were just having a blast.
Justa's observations were slightly different. It just wasn't fair. Not only was Frenchy big and gorgeous compared to the more slender and feline tribal women, she was obviously a champion dancer as well. It wasn't what she did that showed her ability; it was the way she moved when she did it. She was flowing and graceful, always in control. Dancing was a tribal passion and excellent dancers were people of very high status. Frenchy was the kind of dancer that reigned supreme in any contest she cared to try. Certainly far better than Justa was. Ergo, the big blonde was mistress of the field and Justa decided she may as well wait and see what she could find when they got back to Lycanth. She glanced at Grae with regret. No chance there.
Damn.
Grae shut off the player as the song ended and clapped loudly as the two women fell, howling with laughter, into each other's arms. Between bursts of laughter, Dallas yelled breathlessly, hugging her friend, "Oh, damn, babe! You realize that's the first time we ever did that routine with clothes on?"
Justa couldn't understand the comment. Among other things, she had no idea the women were ex-strippers and no idea what a "stripper" was. Her culture had no idea why a stripper would even exist. She also didn't understand why Grae burst out into hearty laughter and walked over to hug both women tightly.
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The graduation ceremony distinguished itself to Frenchy for two big reasons. It was the first time she'd ever worn Federation Enforcement Arm uniform, the same black tunic and hose outfit that Grae wore. The other was the moment when Chief Inspector Grae Kwaakani placed the emblem of the Arm on the breast of her tunic.
The emblem was an enameled badge in a form that was nothing like the cop's shields back on Earth, but it meant the world to her. After Grae, Dallas, Grete, and Weykhaz (Grete's husband, bondsmate, and Grae's father) that pretty badge was the most important thing in the Galaxy to her.
Back on Earth, she'd never even graduated from middle school before becoming a dancer. This was the first time in her life she'd ever successfully completed a school of any kind. This pretty badge symbolized a major accomplishment. She'd joined an organization, taken the training, and become a fully qualified member of something very important. And she'd done it herself.
Pretty big.
Dallas wouldn't have missed it under any circumstance short of total global devastation. Sitting in the auditorium's audience, she smiled mistily as Frenchy crossed the stage to receive her badge. Dallas knew what it meant to her, and applauded the new Federation Arm Agent loudly. Justa was there, too, more out of courtesy - and the fact that Dallas had flatly told her to come - than anything else. She couldn't see what the big deal was, and was slightly bored.
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As soon as they got inside the door of the house, Frenchy grabbed Grae, kissed him soundly, then went whirling away, waving her arms and screaming, "Yaaaa - hooooo!"
Grae favored her with a fractional smile and asked, "Proud of yourself, mistress?"
Frenchy jumped up and down then spun, arms stretched wide, and yelled, "Yes! Oh, damn, yes! Damn right I am! I may even sleep in this uniform!"
Grae commented, "As your superior, I have to say that's against regulations, except on duty."
He began to remove his own uniform, throwing it casually on a nearby chair. "In fact, I suggest you remove it right now."
Frenchy looked at him aghast. "What?! Why?"
"Because," he said slyly as he finished undressing, "if you have it on in a few minutes, you're going to get that shiny new badge wet."
The truth dawned on her as he began to advance on her, fell intent evident in every line of his nude body. "Oh, no," she gasped as she started to back away from him, but she started to fumble urgently with the uniform's fastenings. Then she took off for the back of the house, Grae close behind. A loud squeal from the bedroom, followed by giggles, laughter and the sounds of struggle told a keen observer what was happening.
Dallas, a keen observer, grinned and started to take off her sari. At that moment, Frenchy flashed by, bare as Eve and headed in the direction of the pool. Grae was right behind her. Cocking her head at Justa, Dallas said, "Last one in the pool's a rotten egg."
After a while, things started to settle down. Frenchy and Dallas's joint attempt at dunking Grae was a resounding flop, resulting in both women being pitched headlong about six feet into deeper water. Some water tag, splashing, dunking, belly flops, and other such foolishness eventually tired the participants, including Justa, to the point where things got rather sedate.
Feeling pleasantly fatigued and mellow, Frenchy climbed from the pool and padded off in search of a towel. As she dried her hair, Frenchy decided she wanted a drink and a comfortable chair, in that order. She briefly considered getting redressed, but the effort didn't feel worthwhile, just for sitting around. Even the idea of rummaging around for her seldom used robe didn't really appeal. She finally decided that the rest of the day was declared time off, and to hell with it. After her year with the Tribes, she found their attitude of not really worrying about what to wear, or not wear, to be pretty laid back and comfortable. Ergo, to hell with it, drink and overstuffed chair were calling.
Sitting in the living room, Frenchy nursed a tall, cool glass of mineral water flavored with a slice of citrus tasting fruit. Shortly, Dallas, in a similar state of nature, came padding in with a towel wrapped around her red hair, hit the bar, and flopped in an adjoining chair. "Does that guy of yours ever tire out?"
Frenchy nodded. "Yep. Eventually. Not until the rest of us are flat on our backs, though."
Dallas opened her mouth to make a crack about being flat on her back with Grae, but Frenchy's repressive glare cut her off. "Don't even go there."
Instea
d, Dallas smiled and lifted her drink in a toast to her friend. "Okay, babe. Forget it. Here's to you. I'm proud of you."
Frenchy lifted her glass in answer. "Thanks, babe. Salute."
After they drank, Dallas asked, "That isn't booze, is it?" It sounded more like a statement than a question.
Frenchy shook her head. "No. Ever since Grae dried me out, I don't like the stuff. Even a little bit flips me out, now. You don't know how happy that makes me feel."
Dallas shook her head. "Oh yes I do, and it makes me feel the same way. I watched my best friend try to drink herself to death. God, I'm glad you turned around."
Frenchy stared at her glass thoughtfully for a moment. "Grae dried me out, before I knew anything more about him than the fact that I hated his guts for taking me. I'll owe him for the rest of my life, even if I didn't love him, just for doing that."
Dallas nodded, equally thoughtfully. "And there's a lot more, isn't there?
"I've enjoyed seeing the two of you, and what you've become, babe. I kind of hope there's a future like that for me, one day."
Frenchy looked at her. "I guess there can be, if you want to take the chance and go for the gold. I found that out. Right after Grae took me from that bar, I was scared and about ready to curl up and die. Then I decided to fight - and take every possibility that came my way. Things worked out pretty well after that.
"That's one thing about Lycanth and the Tribes. The boys play rough there, but you have a chance to live. You're not all wrapped up in a box like back on Earth. Lycanth's my home, now, and I'm happy. Since we're going back there in a couple of days, I you'll see what I mean."
Dallas nodded. "Like I said, it sounds like a plan. In fact, it sounds like fun. I always had a secret yearning to dress like a movie Amazon and chase muscle bound barbarians. Maybe catch a couple."
Frenchy laughed and waved her drink. "Oh, they aren't barbarians, but you do get to dress up like somebody in a B movie. It's fun, even if it's really the way people dress and act there.
"But..." Frenchy looked at Dallas a bit apprehensively for a second. "I wasn't kidding about the boys getting a little rough. That ax of mine isn't a movie prop. I've had to kill people with it. It scares me that you might have to fight, too.
"Babe, you're going to need a weapon. You'd better be prepared to use it, too."
Dallas waved her hand negligently. "Pooh, I have Daddy's war club."
"And I'm going to make sure Grae teaches you to use it!" Frenchy shot back. "But you need more than that."
Grae came strolling in, toweling off. He also hadn't bothered to dress. "More than what?"
Frenchy grinned up at him. "If it isn't my bath attendant."
Grae didn't crack a smile or miss a beat as he sat next to her. "You needed a washing. I repeat, more than what?"
Frenchy answered, "I told Dallas she needed more than Daddy's club, which, incidentally, you're going to train her to use, if she's going to be running around the Barrens with us."
"Hm." Grae gathered Frenchy under his arm then appeared to meditate briefly. "Well, she's probably going to need some kind of weapon. You two do seem to get in a lot of trouble." He caught her free hand as she tried to punch him in the stomach with it.
"Bum!" she said playfully, then continued. "You know what I mean."
Grae nodded. "Yes, mistress, I do. Well, let's just see what we can find for her to use."
Grae led the two women to the weapons cabinet. "Tribal women use a spring rifle, but I think we need something else for you, Dallas."
"I can shoot a rifle." Dallas's comment amazed Frenchy.
Grae shook his head. "Not like tribal women. They're nearly born with one. A spring rifle is a precision instrument. Justa can hit a running rodent in the head at thirty yards, shooting offhand. How about you?"
Dallas shook her head. "Nope. I'm not in that league."
"Use a pistol?"
"With two hands, a rest, and a very cooperative target," Dallas replied with a grin.
"How about Frenchy's bopper?" He opened the cabinet and picked up a short weapon that looked like a chubby single shot sawed-off shotgun.
Dallas held out her hand and Grae handed her the energy gun. To Frenchy's further amazement, Dallas examined the weapon for a moment then, without fumbling, pushed the lever to open the chamber and checked to see that it was empty. "Looks like an M-79 grenade launcher," she commented.
"Dallas Ashby," Frenchy gasped, "just how in the hell do you know that?"
Dallas looked at Frenchy with a cheeky grin. "I was a Marine."
Frenchy gaped at her friend with an openmouthed stare. Even Grae's eyes widened slightly. During his time on Earth, he'd learned about the US Marines. "Well," he said respectfully, "maybe I ought to let you pick out your own gun."
Dallas shook her head, blushing. "I was a clerk. The Marines don't let girls have any fun. But I did qualify with the M-79 before they got rid of it and this feels good. How does it work?"
Back on stride after a rapid reassessment of her friend, Frenchy replied, "Like some kind of atomic shotgun. It has a pretty big spread to its pattern and it really packs a wallop. You can draw and fire it quick, but don't try to hit anything close to something you care about. Other than that, it works for me."
Still examining the bopper, Dallas asked, "What's the spread?"
Frenchy had to think about that one for a moment. "I guess it's about a yard across at ten yards out. The blast will go out to about fifty yards, too. Real good if you're dealing with a group problem."
Dallas looked at the muzzle of the bopper. "That's a pretty big spread. Can you compress it? You know, like a choke with a shotgun?"
Both Grae and Frenchy looked blank. This time he spoke up. "Dallas, what's a choke?"
She put her finger a little ways into the bopper muzzle. "Sort of a ring just inside the muzzle of a shotgun. They use 'em to compress the spread of shot, so it will carry farther or hit in a smaller area."
That made Grae think for a minute. "No, we don't have anything like a choke for a bopper. A bopper is intended as a short range weapon that doesn't require careful aim, or to handle multiple targets. They actually aren't that popular, but there are always people like you girls that need a weapon and aren't all that good with a rifle or a pistol."
He got a faraway look. "You know, I don't think anyone's ever thought of that. Interesting.
"Mistress," he said to Frenchy, "something like that would give you more range when you need it, or be a little more discriminating if we ever got into another close-in fire fight."
Frenchy was also thoughtful as she looked at the gun in Dallas's hands in a new light. "Sure would. I bet it would hit harder, too. I'd have been happier with a smaller spread when we took on those smugglers, seeing as how you were in front of me. Could it be done?"
Grae nodded. "I'm certain it could. It's simply that nobody ever thought of doing it until Dallas brought it up.
"Tell you what. We'll get Dallas a bopper tomorrow, then take both yours and hers to the Academy armorer and have her do the modifications. If they work, it will be something the Arm can use as well."
Both women nodded and Frenchy said, "Works for me."
Then she rounded on her friend. "Dallas, you never told me you were a Marine!"
Dallas blushed again. "It was a long time ago. After I got out, there wasn't anything for me to do, so I got some training and started dancing. After a few years, I wasn't getting too far and stripping was a way to make better money."
Frenchy nodded. That last sentence was a capsule of her own history. "Well, girl, one of these days you're going to have to tell me all about it."
Dallas shot back with a grin. "If you tell me more about Lycanth and the Federation and all that, it's a deal."
Frenchy grinned back. "Deal, babe.
"Grae," she continued, "let's get this girl a bopper tomorrow, and I'll have a place in town make her up some tribal leathers."
Grae smiled. "Then we go home."
>
"Then we go home."
Chapter 4
Once they were aboard Grae's ship, the Irine, Frenchy took over duties as guide, showing Dallas and Justa where everything was and how to use it. She even explained about the huge bat-like lee'thal wing that decorated one wall of the wardroom deck and Grae's oversized sword that hung on the other wall.
He'd used the sword to collect the wing.
Dallas was the only one of the two that needed the explanation. Justa, being tribal, was fully conversant with the deadly shape-changing intelligent life form that was the main nocturnal danger on Lycanth, not to mention the five foot swords that the adult male population was so fond of using.
One point Frenchy was empathic about, since Grae had neglected it in her case, was the location and use of the life pods. "You better know these, ladies," she said, "since this isn't a pleasure yacht. I've been in one fight aboard her. There's no reason we can't have another at some time."
Dallas gave her a surprised look. "You sound like this is a navy ship in wartime."
Frenchy nodded. "Not too far off. We're Federation Enforcement Arm and this is an Arm ship. That's as near to being a police force as you get in space. If Grae has to respond to something while we are on our way, it may come to a fight. Bad guys can get a bit argumentative.
"And that's another thing," she continued. "If you hear the ship's combat alert..."
"General Quarters?" Dallas interrupted.
Frenchy nodded. "I guess that's as good a name as any. Same purpose as when you were in the Marines, anyhow. At any rate, if the ship tells you we're headed for a fight, two of the seats in the ward room will automatically convert to acceleration couches. Get in them as fast as you can. The seats have grab fields to hold you in place. You'll get practice, too. Grae and I will be running drills during the trip."
"For us?" Justa said with some aggravation. She was totally familiar with the state of law, and occasional lack thereof, in the area between Seelah and Lycanth.
