by George Olney
"Dallas, on the other hand, didn't despise men. I don't think she could hate anyone just because of their sex or any other general reason. She's just not made that way.
Frenchy leaned towards the wide-eyed girl and looked her in the eyes. "If you're smart, Justa, you'll pay attention to what Dallas has to say. She's seen a good bit more of life than you have, and she's still a pretty good person. You need to learn to get along in the world, sweetheart, and you could have a lot worse teacher than her."
Justa stared at her quietly for a few seconds then said in a small voice. "I guess I've got some more thinking to do, don't I?"
Frenchy nodded. "Yes, dear, you do, but I think you're all thunk out tonight."
Smiling, Frenchy stood up and examined the girl critically. "You've been out here for a while.
"Justa, you look about done in, and, if you weren't, a session like this one would finish the job." Grabbing Justa by the hand, Frenchy lifted her to her feet. "Get to bed, dear. We'll still be here in the morning, and so will you."
Justa started to protest, "But, I've got so many questions, and you've given me so much to think about! I couldn't sleep after this!"
Leaning over, Frenchy kissed her on the forehead in a motherly fashion turned her firmly towards the passageway and back to the compartment she shared with Dallas. "Oh, yes, you can, young lady. Off to bed with you. Besides, we're going to be at the Yellow Knife Freehold in a week or so. Instead of dreaming about Grae, you can be dreaming about all those good looking young bucks in the Hold that would just love to hear about your adventures. Now, march!"
Justa grinned at her. For the first time, the grin was wholehearted. "Yes, Lady. I will be good, and I will dream about those Yellow Knife men, too."
Frenchy laughed and turned out the lights as they left the wardroom.
Mercifully, given Frenchy's lack of sleep, the ship waited a good four hours before intruding. The mellow voice of the computer appeared to come from a point about a foot above the heads of the pair on the bed. The voice had a pitch and timber carefully calculated to wake the dead, or, in this case, Frenchy and Grae. This purpose was duly accomplished. "There is an urgent communicator message," it calmly stated. "Action is required."
Grae had leaped over the drowsy Frenchy and was halfway to the already open compartment hatch when he asked, "Nature of communication and action?"
"The communication is a request for assistance. The sender is under attack. An answer is necessary."
"Armament Status Three," Grae said as he paced swiftly through the open hatch.
Frenchy was up and following almost immediately. Three was a pre-fight status that amounted to having your pistol still in the holster, but your hand on its butt. It looked like they were going to get ready to rumble, and it behooved her to have the ship's weapons systems on line and ready to go. They were probably going to be needed.
"Hostile Contact Alarm," she told the ship as she trotted for the command deck. "Tell Dallas and Justa to get out here."
Frenchy slid smoothly into her command chair, waiting briefly through the slightly unnerving squirming of the chair as it adjusted itself to her body contours, and noting the ship had already warmed up the weapons board. As she slipped the virtual reality visor over her head, she absently noted that Dallas and Justa were in their seats. Justa was already accustomed to this sort of thing, she supposed, and she assumed Dallas was responding to her old Marine training.
Inside the VR world of her visor, Frenchy briefly studied the glowing grid that surrounded the ship, searching for any imperfections. "Defense grid up and fully functional," she reported to Grae.
She received the standard laconic response. "Check."
After a second, Grae said, "Opening communications channel. Come out of the VR. We've got a few minutes and you might need to see this."
"Check."
Frenchy's eyes widened slightly as she saw the figure that formed in the com holo tank. It was a human male, but one unlike any she'd seen in Galactic civilization so far. He was the first person with a good sized belly she'd seen out here, simply because Galactics medically or genetically altered their body type towards a more slender, youthful ideal.
This guy reminded her of an Old West prospector. His round, friendly features were a bit hard to make out because of the wealth of graying, unruly beard that descended to his breast, belying the fact that he seemed about the same age as she and Grae were, maybe somewhat older. Atop a mass of hair pulled back in a long braid, the same shade as his beard, he wore what amounted to a damned close copy of a beat-up straw cowboy hat, the brim rolled up on the sides. His collarless flannel shirt, complete with large red and white checks, and a pair of pants she could have sworn were dead ringers for her own blue jeans completed the prospector image. Frenchy was ready to bet he was wearing boots, too.
His first words were a conversational, "Well, I'm glad to see you."
Grae answered him. "This is Federation Enforcement Arm cruiser XZ0948. Your message indicated you were under attack."
"Yep." The prospector's image in the holo staggered for a second and a wisp of static shot over his image. "Sorry, had to duck. I'm catching gunfire only, and they're deliberately missing. Close, mind you, but deliberately missing. No missiles yet. I think they're pirates and they want my ship as intact as they can get it. I'm pretty certain I haven't made anyone else this pissed off with me in a while."
Grae's face took on an iron-hard cast. Pirates were not his favorite people. "Understood. Hang on and keep dodging them. We're on our way."
"Thanks," the man replied with a grin. "Now, if you'll get here in a hurry, I might even be alive to meet you."
Grae smiled grimly. "We will, and you will. Be there shortly. Out."
Frenchy had her VR visor back on and was scanning the space ahead of them. Yep. There they were, above and to the left. "Contact. Two ships. Ascension 186 mils relative. Azimuth 5962 mils relative." She was proud of getting the military format for that report right. Still, it seemed much simpler to say the pair was above and to the left of where they were heading.
"Sighted." Grae's response was equally brief and precise. "The chase ship ought to have us on his screens in about thirty seconds. He'll either break and run or come after us. If he breaks, I'll put us at five o'clock low. Weapons ready."
Frenchy already had the pirate targeted. As soon as Grae gave the word, she was ready to lower the boom. Flipping a switch on one of the two joysticks she was grasping, she released an intelligent missile. The IM ought to keep them busy, once it was told to go kill someone. With luck, it might even do the job without her guns. Past experience didn't support that hope, but what the hell.
Suddenly, the pirate snapped vertical and poured on the speed in a tight escape curve. Okay, Frenchy thought, here we go! She spotted incoming fire from the pirate and thickened the screens at the projected impact point, at the same time giving the IM an order to close but not attack. Grae triggered a quick barrage from the light nose guns, just to keep them occupied. He was closing the distance, and in a position to allow for a quick swerve to unmask his broadsides.
Frenchy frowned in concentration as she watched Grae's fire impact on the other ship's screens. She could swear they flickered on impact. Maybe the pirate's defense screens were weak for some reason. Worth a chance? She'd need the big guns to find out.
"Recommend clearing the broadside for a shot."
"Check. Will clear in ten seconds. Countdown operating."
A number appeared in her VR screen among the other data projected, counting down the time. Frenchy locked her targeting cursor on the pirate's image on the screen then cocked the trigger. The guns would fire the instant they were unmasked and had a clean shot. Next she touched a thumb button, allowing the IM to acquire its target. Then she sat, quietly waiting. Now! Grae momentarily nosed the ship up on its axis, giving her a shot.
The IM chose that moment to corkscrew in, impacting at a point on the far side of her guns' target. T
hat weakened the pirate's shields just enough. Three 4 inch energy bolts from Frenchy's guns broke through and shattered the after half of the pirate ship.
Frenchy whooped loudly, then realized things weren't over just yet. A few moments after impact, an escape pod detached from the pirate and sped off.
Grae hadn't slowed his velocity. Ignoring the crippled pirate ship, he bored in until the escape pod was nearly in visual range. "Mistress! Take out their drives!"
"Yes, dear," Frenchy replied in a sultry voice as she carefully adjusted the targeting cursors, moving the controlling joystick with finicky care. She only needed a single gun for this. There! "One away."
As the drive pod on the little escape craft shattered, Frenchy announced with a sense of satisfaction, "One set of scumbags, delivered as ordered, Captain."
Frenchy flipped a thumb switch on her left hand joystick, putting her VR equipment in scan mode. Looking at the escape pod, she saw glowing human shapes. In the pod, three shapes sat on their acceleration couches, but one shape was moving, and appeared to be wrestling with a fifth, smaller shape. The glow of the smaller shape was weaker, indicating the person it represented was also weak, possibly injured. She passed on the information to Grae.
The ship announced, "We are being hailed by the escape pod."
"On screen," Grae commanded.
Five figures materialized in the holo tank. Three of them were your common or garden variety low-rent scum. The fourth was also, but with an important difference. He was holding a pistol to the head of a boy, maybe ten or so by her estimation, dressed in a ragged coverall. The pirate had the boy in a headlock and clasped tightly to his chest. Frenchy looked at the boy carefully, noting the obvious signs of ill treatment. She snarled at the holo.
Grae's reaction was similar. His voice was soft, with the flat and cold tones that marked him as at his most dangerous. "What do you want?"
The boy's captor jammed the muzzle of his pistol harder into the boy's head, making the child whimper. "You're going to let us go! This is the Jona-Savonia kid. I'll kill him if we don't get an active life pod and a free trip out of here.
"I swear!" the man yelled. "I'll kill this little bastard. Come get us and get us out of here!"
Grae looked the boy's captor in the eye, his expression iron-hard. "We'll come get you. Stand by for emergency boarding. Out."
As Grae cut the transmission, Frenchy disengaged from her board and jumped up. "Are you going to let that asshole go?" she demanded in outrage.
Grae smoothly exited his seat and headed rapidly for the back. "I said we were coming," he shot back at her. "I didn't say we were going to let them live past that point.
"Match with pod and extend boarding tube," he told the ship.
Then he continued his rapid, unhurried instructions. "Dallas, stay here. Mistress, you and Justa get into slacksuits. Mistress, just your ax, but bring a spare slacksuit for the boy. Your bopper could do too much damage to the pod if you fire.
"Justa, grab your spring rifle from the arms cabinet. You are our primary shooter. When we board, stay as much out of sight as possible, but be ready for a shot when I give you the opportunity. We're going to try to save the boy, but, in any case, I want every one of those bastards dead.
"Now move!"
Frenchy quickly dug the slacksuits from their storage cupboard, and started to climb into hers as the other two also donned theirs. She figured Grae wanted insurance against a stray shot in the pod penetrating the little lifeboat's hull. The slacksuits were the galactic version of an emergency spacesuit. If a hull penetration caused explosive decompression and air loss, the suits would inflate and extrude monopermeable fields to protect the wearer's head and hands. Until that point, they were just like wearing a set of overalls with attached flexible boots.
Suited up and weapons ready, the trio headed for the ship's airlock. "Boarding tube attached," the ship's computer announced. "All seals secure."
Hefting his boltgun, Grae ordered the ship, "Open the airlock."
Turning to the two women, he said, "All right, be careful. Mistress, try to get the boy. Justa, don't fire unless I do, or one of the pirates looks like they're about to shoot. Stay calm, but don't take any chances."
Halfway down the flexible boarding tube, Frenchy realized she was probably the only one of the three that had never been in one before. No time for sightseeing, she told herself. There was a bad situation waiting at the other end.
It was a bad situation, all right.
The tableau that met their eyes inside the pod was the same that was shown on the com holo. The leader was still holding the sandy haired boy while the other three were poised behind him. The boy's disheveled look and frightened expression screamed maltreatment. No weapons other than the leader's were drawn yet, but Frenchy was sure they were handy. She looked closely at the bruised and battered kid and had to get hold of her temper. It wouldn't do any good to lose control in this situation. Anything at all could kill that boy and, as of right then, Frenchy was passionately certain she wanted to save his life. She also wanted the scalps of those other four assholes.
So did Grae. He stepped slightly in front of Frenchy, his weapon held negligently, pointing at the deck. Apparently just as negligently, his position obscured the pirate's ability to see anyone behind him. Justa, for instance. "I said I'd come," he commented softly. "Say your say."
The leader sneered. "As long as I have the kid, you and that bitch aren't going to do a damn thing but let us get to a pod."
There was more. The bastard was bragging, now, sure of his victory. Grae tuned him out. Instead, he was intently watching the other three. He was sure the pirate plan was to distract him, while one of the others took him out. This was no attempt at using a hostage to bargain an escape. They wanted his ship. Not a smart move. A Federation Enforcement Arm cruiser would kill them as fast as he himself would. The ship didn't like unauthorized personnel.
Time to end this. "I think not. Now, you can put down your weapons and let the boy go, or not. Which is it?"
One of the three pirates in the background made a move towards her pistol. It looked like it was going to be number two.
Grae stepped quickly to his right, shooting the pirate who was just starting her draw then killing the other two in rapid succession. As he did, there was a soft snick, and a tiny hole opened in the leader's forehead. Justa had made her shot.
The man dropped limply to the deck, dead. As he fell he released the boy, who also collapsed. Frenchy darted toward the child and quickly hefted him to his feet. She stumbled back up the tube with Justa's help, headed for the ship's medical bay.
Once there, she laid her limp burden on one of the wall bunks, then watched anxiously as the ship's medical remotes began their work. She turned as Grae walked up behind her. "I hope we're in time. Will he be all right?"
Grae glanced at a read-out panel. "Malnutrition, shock, mistreatment, and other like problems, mistress," he said as he put his arm around her, "but he'll recover. You stay with him. I'm going to have Irine scan the pirate's computers. I want to know why he's aboard it. Then I have to discuss things with our friend in the other ship.
"Keep watch, mistress. Irine's administering a sedative, but it'll be a few moments before it takes effect. He'll need someone here if he wakes before it does."
As Grae was leaving, Frenchy studied the slightly emaciated form on the medical bunk. He had tousled sandy hair, an olive complexion, and the look that said he'd one day be a handsome man. He was far too thin, though. At the thought of what he'd gone through, she began to get mad again then told herself to calm down. He was going to be all right, she told herself as she tenderly smoothed out the boy's hair. He was going to be all right.
A pair of pale blue eyes opened slowly and, after a moment's disorientation, focused on her face. "Mama?" The voice was soft and weak. "Where am I?"
Frenchy leaned over the boy and smiled gently, continuing to stroke his hair. "You're on a Federation Enforcement
Arm ship, honey. You're safe now, and you're in the medical bay. You're going to be all right, I promise."
Frenchy decided not to say anything about his parents. She didn't really know anything, but the thought of what she was going to find when she did discover what happened to them scared her. As weak as he was, she wasn't about to upset this kid.
Softly, she caressed the side of his face. "Don't worry, honey. I'm here and Grae is just down the passageway. You're safe and those pirates will never bother anyone again."
He looked to her for reassurance. She looked like someone he could trust. "They aren't coming back?"
Frenchy shook her head and smiled. "No, honey. I can tell you for a fact they aren't coming back. Now, you're weak and you need to rest. They were scary, but they're gone. Nothing here is going to scare you. Grae and I will keep you safe. You just relax and go to sleep. You're safe now. You just go to sleep."
As he looked at her, his eyes began to close. He had the reassurance her needed, and he felt safe. He shifted a little then drifted off.
Frenchy turned to leave the compartment and saw Justa and Dallas standing in the hatch, looking in. Justa's face showed her curiosity, but Dallas's wore a tender expression. Frenchy made little shooing motions with her hands. "Come on, guys. The kid's had a rough time. Let's let him get some sleep."
Dallas nodded and, gently steering Justa ahead of her, went back up the passageway with Frenchy in the rear. Behind them, the door to the medical compartment slid silently shut.
Chapter 5
Frenchy was sitting in the wardroom with Dallas, Justa and Grae when the Major Revelation hit her. Of course, Major Revelations do not stomp up to the recipient, led by balloons, banners and marching bands. They tend to creep up on their unfortunate victim in tiny little skittering rushes. This one certainly did.
