by George Olney
The handsome, well-dressed man sitting in front of him in this huge elegantly appointed penthouse office showed the dynamic, look-of-eagles profile that could be produced only by a highly capable makeup artist, fortunate nature coupled with extreme competence and ability, or expensive surgical sculpture. Alesos's bet was on the doctor. Said man was, in addition to exuding the aura of perfect taste and tremendous capability, also irritated. Pissed, even.
The handsome, etc. man Alsos was meeting, Barto-Dias-Colones by name, was a silent partner in the business enterprise Alesos had, due to the Arm, precipitately inherited from Vandemos. He also provided the bulk of the working capital. Barto-Colones's current preoccupation was a fairly decent sized operational catastrophe to the aforementioned enterprise. "The entire network is gone?" he asked, repeating the question for what Alesos judged the sixth time.
"No, not the entire network," Alesos replied. "It's barely possible the Arm left the occasional drone still on his feet somewhere. I would not, however, care to place an overlarge bet on the occurrence."
"How?"
"Like I told you," Alesos shrugged, "as soon as the Arm grabbed Vandemos for stupidly attempting to take that woman in public, they discovered one of the two slaves with him was an illegal acquisition. The Arm is looking for any excuse to attack slavery and that was enough to take down as much of the operation as they could locate. When I got off Adulis IV, the Arm had our central operation in its totality and was happily working their way out to the fringes. We didn't even have time to sterilize the warehouses."
On hearing that, Barto-Colones looked at him hard. "You mean those women are still alive?"
Alesos nodded in disgust. "Very much so. In addition, Lycanthi women are getting harder to come by, so nearly sixty percent of our stock was taken from other planets. That sort of thing is hugely frowned upon by various authorities - especially the Arm. Given that fact, it's wiser, not to mention far safer, to terminate our operation for a while. A concept, I might add, I firmly agree with, since I prefer being alive to the alternative."
Barto-Colones waved his hand dismissively. "That seems to be your problem. Mine is lost income."
Alesos gave his newly inherited (one might say legacy) business partner a sharp look across the expensive and exquisitely fabricated custom desk between them. There was no mistaking Barto-Colones's message that he, Alesos, was now considered a dangerous and dispensable commodity. It was time to adjust the man's view of their common problems. "On the contrary, what we seem to have here is a joint difficulty."
"I fail to see any such," Barto-Colones replied calmly, but his hard eyes belied his tone.
"Ah, but we do." Alesos jumped out of his chair and began striding swiftly around the office, hands clasped firmly behind his back.
"For instance," he said rapidly, as he dramatically poised a fist in front of his face, one finger held skyward, "there are still a small number of snatch teams out. Since they are not in direct contact with the Adulis IV organization, the Arm does not know of their existence."
He lowered his voice dramatically. "Of course, those all answer to me.
"Not," broad sweep of the formerly clenched hand, "that they haven't been of use to you in a number of your personal initiatives."
Pacing resumed, punctuated with a wide variety of positively Shakespearean gestures.
"Including, I might add, the Jona-Savonia project. However, several minor points should be considered, among them the fact that their aggregate, firmly (as I previously stated) under my direct control, vastly outnumbers your personal organization, the totality of which my lieutenants have thoroughly mapped (more as an idle exercise, you understand, than for fell intent). An additional consideration is that, while my people specialize in direct action, yours are primarily administrative and financial types. I, of course, do not mention that 'private correctional facility' you maintain on Seeway, the staff of which doesn't fall into either of the previously stated categories."
Stopped facing Barto-Colones, hands thrown wide.
"Not that my people have anything other than love and respect for you and your beneficence.
"As long as it continues.
"Which I'm sure it will until we can resurrect our organization in some other more secure location and return to the comfortably profitable financial situation that is our norm, putting aside this little setback."
Putting his left hand behind his back, Alesos used his thumb to push a sequence of three studs on the ornate communications ring he wore on his little finger.
Barto-Colones, following Alesos's intent despite the histrionics and massively jumbled collection of fustian clauses, realized his danger. He carefully began sliding a hand under the desktop to a hidden touch pad. Before he got to it, his intercom beeped. He decided to answer it. He could give the order for Alesos's terminal removal just as easily with a code phrase as with the touch pad. Touching the brooch on his tunic, he answered, "Yes?"
"Fra Barto-Colones," the reply was in an unfamiliar voice, "this is Mundain, Fra Alesos's bodyguard. I must report that I and my men just stopped an attempted threat on your life by your personal security people. It was terminated, there was no other damage, and you're both safe now."
"I see," Barto-Colones drew a deep breath, trying to keep the shakiness in his voice from that damnable snake across the room from him. "Yes. Very well done. I commend your actions. We will speak more of this later."
Cutting the connection, he looked pokerfaced at Alesos. "Your arguments are persuasive as always, Alesos. I foresee a long and prosperous future to our association. Where had you thought of relocating?"
Alesos gazed back at him, his expression showing nothing but brotherly love. "Someplace far, far out of the Arm's view," he said softly.
After Alesos left, Barto-Colones sat at his desk and seethed for a while, but took no action. Anything he did could prove dangerous until he reconstructed his security organization - more carefully this time. He finally decided to let Alesos have his fun. He still might make some money from the clown's activities, after all.
Besides, it wasn't as though Alesos's was the only slaving project he had underway.
#####
The logistics of moving their oddly assorted collection of more-or-less strays, not to mention Red and his gear, from the Port to Yellow Knife Freehold occupied Grae and Frenchy for some time after landing. A somewhat harried Frenchy thought she began to understand what was behind all those comedies about families going on vacations. Not that she could see anything funny about the current situation.
Red, thankfully, could handle himself. He just had to travel with them because Grae was his self-appointed Tribal contact. Grae was also Red's route to the various permissions and clearances he needed.
Nos was somewhat more of a problem, primarily because he was so excited. After his school sessions on the ship, he wanted to see everything in real life he'd learned in lessons, not to mention have the adventures his imagination had conjured. Frenchy was sure the boy wanted to ride a gort and fight a lee'thal, or watch Grae fight one, at the first opportunity.
A quiet suggestion from Aunt Dallas solved that problem. Shortly, Justa found herself Nos's custodian and guide, much to her initial disgust. That was when Justa Mark II, the nicer version, surfaced and reminded Justa Mark I, the original version, that Mk II was now in charge. Thus, it didn't take long for Justa to settle down and begin handling the boy's nonstop questions with a fair degree of tolerance and good humor. Besides, she discovered it was kind of fun, showing her home world off to an eager and excited kid. She was glad to be back on Lycanth, too.
Wryly, Frenchy wondered what Grete would think when they landed and Frenchy presented her with this bunch. An earlier letter told Grete the whole convoluted tail about Dallas and Justa, and a vid-tex call from the Port filled in the details on Nos and Red. On the one hand, Frenchy decided, Grete ought to think she was nuts for collecting so many strays. On the other hand, she shuddered, what her unpredictable
adoptive mother could do with Frenchy's ill-assorted assembly of humanity beggared the imagination.
She was soon to find out. Both Grete and Weykhaz were there to greet the sleds as Grae and Red expertly grounded their respective aircraft inside the Yellow Knife Freehold's cavernous underground hangar. Frenchy eagerly returned Grete's excited welcoming wave from her seat inside the sled. After a lifetime of foster homes, followed by Hollywood bit parts and gigs in strip joints around the country, the feeling of coming home was unknown to her until a year ago. Now she had a home and a mother, and that meant almost as much to her as having Grae.
"Welcome, daughter!" Grete cried as Frenchy climbed out of the sled. The hug between the two was vigorous and heartfelt. Pushing back to arm's length, Grete held Frenchy by the shoulders and examined her carefully. "These many months ago, I sent forth a daughter, all unschooled in the proper ways of the Arm! Now, a mother's eye beholds a fine woman that has succeeded 'mongst the finest at a task that she had never before set herself! Truly, my child, it is impossible for me to proclaim too loudly my pride in you!" Grete knew all about Frenchy's lack of formal education, and was as proud as she, if not prouder, of her adopted daughter's achievement in graduating from the Academy.
Weykhaz and Grae were smiling and shaking hands, the greeting between father and son more restrained than that of their lively mates. Red joined them from his sled and the three began a quiet conversation after introductions.
Justa and Nos embarked about then, the boy wide-eyed as he eagerly tried to take in every detail of the surrounding area. Justa on the other hand, stopped for a moment and stared at Grete and Frenchy. She knew Grete was Frenchy's adoptive mother and no real blood relation, but the two were so alike it was amazing. It wasn't fair, either! Two big, gorgeous, lively blondes in the same place, either of which made her feel like a boy. They both wore the earposts of Valued Women, too. Justa was very female, knew it, and enjoyed the fact, but seeing these two together was demoralizing.
Dallas also had to stare for a minute when she first saw Grete. According to Frenchy, Grete was over four hundred years old. The woman certainly didn't look it. Grete appeared only slightly older than Frenchy and just as vibrantly beautiful and lively. Apparently the longevity treatments worked pretty damned well.
Dallas was just as happy to see Grete as Frenchy was, if for slightly different reasons. Grete was something her best friend had never had before, a stable and loving family. It warmed her heart to see the obvious love between the two. She was also glad she'd decided to wear leathers. They certainly fit the surroundings and the occasion.
Looking past Frenchy, Grete immediately noticed Dallas, Justa, and Nos. Applying a mother's judgment, she quickly bustled over to Nos and immediately enveloped him in a huge hug, to Justa's slight surprise and Dallas's delight. "And you, I perceive," she said, "are my daughter's young ward! Have you a name, my lad?"
Breaking free of the mildly embarrassing (if secretly welcome) hug, Nos stepped back and bowed as his protocol tutor had taught him. "Jona-Nos-Savonia, my Lady, named Nos," he said, with the formal introduction to Highly Placed Persons also drummed into him by the aforesaid tutor.
In Nos's new world, Grete was immediately slotted into position as Grandmother. The thought made him very happy, since he never had a real Grandmother before Grete and he was looking forward to the experience. All the stories told him Grandmothers served the primary function of spoiling the kids and that was something else he happily anticipated. "I am very pleased to meet you, my Lady."
Grete favored him with a broad smile and twinkling eyes. "Such formality! Daughter, 'tis a fine young gentleman you've brought to brighten your mother's day!"
Smiling, Frenchy nodded as she looked warmly at him. "He certainly is a fine young gentleman."
With that sentence, Frenchy earned Nos's wholehearted devotion for the rest of his life.
Another quick little hug for the boy, and Grete was off again, descending on Dallas with the same whirlwind welcome and extravagant hug Nos received. "Finally," she said dramatically, "a devoted mother has the great fortune to meet and greet her daughter's dearest friend!"
Unlike, Nos and Justa, Dallas wasn't surprised by the blonde dynamo that was hugging her with considerable strength. To the contrary, she recognized a kindred soul and was fully enjoying herself. "Any more heft to this hug, Grete," Dallas gasped dramatically, "and I'll be Frenchy's late dearest friend."
Laughing, Grete released Dallas and stood back, but she still wasn't through. "Justa, dear girl," she said, turning to the last member of the party, "welcome to the Yellow Knife Freehold."
Justa wasn't family in any sense and would have been thoroughly shocked if Grete had hugged her.
" 'Tis about time for a midday meal," Grete continued. "Perhaps 't would be a good thought if you and your young charge Nos essayed the main dining room for a small repast." She also knew about Justa's assignment mentoring Nos.
Justa started to stammer she wasn't hungry then caught Grete's expression. "The main dining room, dear girl, is, after all, where the youth of the Hold foregather," Grete continued. "Rather than myself, or some other stodgy oldster, attempting your amusement, there may possibly be some young buck that could perchance be cozened to aid you in showing the Hold and its sights to Nos. Would that possibility meet with your approval?"
Justa's mind was blank for a moment. Grete's speech pattern, a product of her upbringing as a seventeenth century German literally transposed onto Rembaud, was a bit hard for the uninitiated to follow. Then the light dawned. Guys! And with Nos, a readymade introduction, especially with a damsel in distress needing some masculine assistance in managing an active and excited young ward. Preferably good looking, muscular masculine assistance.
Good plan. Justa could take it from this point. "Oh... oh yes, Lady! I believe Nos and I could probably handle a little lunch before we look the place over.
"What about it, Nos?" Justa asked the boy. "Want to grab a bite and then go exploring?"
Nos was ready to forego the promised meal, but his stomach reminded him that it had been hours since breakfast. "Sure, Justa. After we eat, can we go see some gorts!?"
The girl smiled. "Oh, I think something like that can be arranged, if we can find a guy - ah, someone - to show us theirs. Maybe we can even let you ride one."
Nos's eyes got big and round. "Wow!"
Grete's eyes twinkled. "Yes, I do feel I can leave the remainder of the day's activities in your capable charge, lass. Just have the lad back by evening meal. Anyone can show you to our rooms.
"Now, off with you both!"
Frenchy eyed the retreating, and excited, pair with a slightly jaundiced eye. "Well, I suppose they're both set for the day."
Frenchy had no worries about the boy. Justa could take care of herself and was responsible enough to ensure Nos was well looked after, especially with the amiable and indulgent attitude of the Hold to help. Off hand, Frenchy was also certain that Justa was going to have plenty of assistance, soon enough.
Tribal girls, she sighed mentally. Put any reasonably attractive young man anywhere in the vicinity and their hormones went into overdrive. Oh well, Nos was probably going to be too excited about visiting a real Hold to notice what was going on around him, especially since he was a touch young for that sort of thing. She hoped.
Meanwhile, Grete was still in full gallop. She was arm in arm with Dallas and waving happily at Frenchy with her free hand. "Daughter, if thou wilt, engage those lacksidasical men yonder and enjoin them to useful pursuits arranging that your luggage be taken to your quarters whilst we, as befits ladies of leisure, repair to my rooms so that I can become better acquainted with this, your good friend Dallas."
With a wry smile, Frenchy trundled off to do Mom's bidding by getting Grae to do her bidding and get everyone's stuff where it belonged. Grae and Weykhaz, thankfully, were easy to convince and Red went along with the plan, apparently because the men had a good session of shop talk well under wa
y.
"Besides," Weykhaz said philosophically, with an affectionately resigned glance at his bondsmate in cheerful and active conversation with Dallas, "I feel something either irritating or outrageous coming eventually. I think I'd rather be in sane surroundings while it's being hatched since there's absolutely nothing I can do to stop it. You'll find us in your apartment when you need us, girl."
Frenchy nodded in full agreement, momentarily wishing she was going with Weykhaz. But... nope. She hadn't seen Grete in months, and there was a lot of catching up to do. Besides, if Grete and Dallas were left alone, no telling what would happen! At least she was going to be there to apply some measure of sanity to the proceedings.
In Grete and Weykhaz's apartment, Frenchy and Dallas settled into comfortable chairs in the living room while Grete bustled around, rounding up the tribal equivalent of tea and cookies. Frenchy took her first sip of the herbal tea with real pleasure. It wasn't available on Adulis IV and the flavor was something she really liked about Lycanth because it reminded her of her new home. Dallas was also making appreciative remarks about the tea. "Different," was her comment, "but something a girl could really grow to like. Just like this place."
"You got that right, babe," Frenchy answered her. "Lycanth is definitely an acquired taste, but one that stays with you once you have it."
Plumping down in another easy chair and taking her own sip of tea, Grete entered the conversation. "Now, Dallas, tell me all on how you came to know my daughter. It interests me to know someone, especially a friend, from the life she led before she came to find her true roots. I take it the two of you were strippers together?"
Frenchy gasped and stared at her adoptive mother in openmouthed shock. "MOTHER!! How in the hell did you find that out!?"
