by George Olney
The grimace of pain flitting across his face revealed the agony her name produced. Resolutely, he disciplined his mind into other paths then turned on his side to try to get some sleep. Psych treatment had cured him of the habitual nightmares, but on occasion, one still showed up. With any luck, it wouldn't happen now.
When Frenchy came back from the galley, the door to the cabin was unlocked. Grae was asleep on the bed. After her shower, she eyed him speculatively for a little while, thinking a variety of thoughts. Finally, she shrugged and got into bed with him.
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Her relationship with Grae became easier after the locked door incident. In some way, Frenchy felt like she had raised his estimation of her. The thought was cheering but puzzling. As they came closer to what the computer told her was their destination, she began to feel pleased with her progress. Her command of Rembaud was complete and her body was developing the smooth, easy feel to it she remembered from her younger days. It was time to take another step in her campaign.
They were relaxing in the ward room. Grae was going over a printout while she read a book found on one of the shelves. Finally, she looked over at him and held up the book. "Were these people? Like us, I mean. Human?"
He looked up casually at the page she was holding for him to see. "Wembe II. Yes, they were human. The culture dates back a thousand years or so. The planet suffered ecological failure, so most of them emigrated. The bulk of them settled on Bursalis. Now they're a little more careful about their resources."
She looked at the picture musingly. "It says here that they were the creators of some of the finest ceramic ware ever known."
"True," he nodded. "I've seen some of it, and the glaze alone is unmatched, much less the design. It's never been repeated since their ecological collapse. Something in the trace elements of their old world, I think."
"Grae," she said levelly, "you're some kind of scientist, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question.
He looked at her sharply. It was the first time she had ever addressed him by his name. Her guess was also surprisingly astute.
"Interesting. How do you figure that?"
"The way the library was made up," she said, looking at him evenly. Frenchy was playing her cards now and wanted to be careful. "Little hints all over the place. I am able to use my brain, you know."
"The thought didn't occur to me," he said wryly, the side of his mouth slightly twitching as he hid a smile. "But I suppose it should have. What else have you come up with?"
She shook her head. "Oh, no. One revelation at a time. I do have a problem, though."
"And what is that?" His look was a strange mixture of amused tolerance and something else.
"Boredom." By now, she thought she knew him well enough to try the best way to get something. She wanted another privilege, another acknowledgment that she was a person, not property. "The library and the gym are all very well, but I'd like something to do. If you can give me some sort of job to help you, you might be surprised. I'd like some purpose to my life if I have to live it with you."
His voice had a peculiar tone as he answered, "You don't have to spend all your life with me, Frenchy. A lot of women don’t necessarily have a purpose to their lives while they're bound, either."
He looked at her intently a second or two longer and nodded, "All right. Are you sure you could learn this equipment?"
His strange comments puzzled her, but she forgot it when she realized what he was offering. She turned schoolgirl-eager again, just like when he'd shown the teaching machine and library to her. "Sure! I can handle the service machines better than you know. The ship's been teaching me. I've also studied the computer instructions on some of the gear you have. Please let me try! I know I can do it!"
"I see I need to look at my computer's programming," he said, but his dry voice wasn't displeased. "Come on, we'll try you out on something simple."
She eagerly followed him to the command deck. He motioned her to sit in a jump seat before a console that was mostly screen with a few lighted switches and a small work table. Tapping the console, he said, "This is something that will run continuously when we get to the planet. Most of the time, it will be under computer control but you and I both will stand watches in front of it. Doing it in shifts will make my job easier once we start."
Something popped into her head. "But what about Irine? Can't she run this thing without us watching?"
He looked at her quizzically again. "That's a good question." Shrugging, as though to dismiss the phenomenon, he answered her, "Irine could handle the screen, all right, and make basic decisions, but not those that I want. This screen detects the presence of artifacts constructed by civilization. If, as I suspect, that planet was occupied by an intelligent race in the past, there should be artifacts all over the place. That either requires that the screen record what it sees for a review by me, or set off an alarm. If the life form on the planet did more than sit on a mountain top meditating, the alarm will be going constantly. If it records for review, it will take me twice as long as it would the two of us working together to scan the planet."
He smiled at her. "A planet's a big place, and I don't know what I'm looking for, so I can't tell the machine what to report or disregard."
She thought for a second, digesting his comments. "But," she said, "I don't know what you are looking for. How will I know what to sing out about?"
"Use your judgment and call me or record the sighting in case of doubt. If your judgment tests out then I fully intend to trust your abilities."
She bristled slightly, but remorsefully gave way. As the professional, he was right. She had a test to pass. She had to prove she could do the job. Lately, she regretted the lack of the formal education she had abandoned years ago.
School never meant anything to her. It was just a way to get away from Ma and that damned house, and the foster homes later. Now she could see what she lacked. "All right," she said resignedly, "what do you want me to do?"
Learning to handle the survey scanner was fun. The two of them began to relax more than they had since they first met. When they began, Grae was liberal with his criticism, merely grunting when she did something right. After a while, short words of praise began to creep into his comments. Finally, he said, "You've got it, for the most part. Practice is what's lacking. I'll set up some more situations and computer-assisted instruction. Work with that. At least it'll take care of your boredom."
With a wry smile, he left her alone at the console after inputting instruction programs. She watched his retreating form for a moment, then shrugged and turned back to the console. Really, she reflected, she owed Grae a debt of gratitude. He was forcing her to use her brain. She was enjoying using these machines, including ones he didn't know she handled, and was developing a real flair at it. She went happily back to her task for a while.
Sometime later, she cocked a wary ear, listening for noises in the rear of the ship then addressed the computer. Its voice came from its usual spot behind her shoulder and informed her that Grae was using the hypnolearner in the library and would be there for at least another hour and a half.
This looked like a good time to spring something else on him. She'd been planning another little step for a while, with the computer's help. One more step in her own direction.
Shutting down the machine, she went to the galley and activated one of the synthesizing machines. This one wasn't the food processor, but another one used for non-food items. She gave the computer quick instructions worked out through trial and error and the use of one of Grae's books several wake periods ago, then eagerly awaited the results. When the ready light came on, she reached into the product compartment and pulled out close approximations of a pair of sexy high heel slippers. One down, more to go. Now for hairpins. The next task was cosmetics. Those came out in containers looking like laboratory samples, but she recognized each one for what it was.
She hurried to the sleep cabin with her prizes and began to set up a d
ressing table. A nightstand with drawers in it suited her purposes exactly. She carefully stowed the items Grae had in it in other places, although the importance of some of that junk escaped her. Just like a man, she thought, filling a nightstand table with notebooks, spare parts and other less identifiable things.
By rehanging the small sleeping cabin mirror, she had a fairly decent dressing table. But plain. It was a pity that she didn't know how to make lace.
No, not lace. Maybe those silk flowers she liked. It would have made the whole thing more feminine. Feminine was what she needed right now. Getting a settee from the wardroom for a dressing stool, she put up her hair then set to work with her make-up. Somehow, the whole thing felt like a reaffirmation of herself as a woman. She employed every trick she knew, as though she was dressing for a formal ball. The more she worked, the better she felt.
After a while, the ship told her that Grae was coming back to the cabin. Slipping on her high heels, she gave a last pat to her hairdo and assumed a graceful pose, provocative without being blatant. When the door opened, the look in his eye told her that she'd struck home. She knew him well enough to know that he was immediately aware of every change in the room... and in her. His expression thrilled her. It wasn't lustful but appreciative, appraising her as a beautiful woman. It was a look she hadn't seen in years and thoroughly enjoyed.
Another point scored. Then she gave herself up to the moment as his arms enfolded her in a warm, strong grasp and he kissed her. Sex was her weapon in this battle, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy it.
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When she arose during the next waking period, Grae was still asleep. No wonder, with the things they'd done last night. She had that nice mellow feeling of satisfaction. She decided it was time to get to work. During her shower, she scrubbed away all trace of make-up. Then she tied her hair back under a scarf improvised from a piece of cloth found in his closet. Studying herself in the mirror, she decided she looked a little like a housewife getting ready for spring cleaning.
Not that any housewife regularly wore just a scarf, she thought, then wondered. She'd never been a housewife and that was one of her fantasies. Maybe it would be fun to dress, or undress, like this for your husband. Having one man for your affections and to share your problems sounded like a far cry from her life. She decided she was a closet domestic then thought to hell with it.
She was now a kidnap victim of a man from outer space on her way to the distant reaches of the galaxy to explore unknown worlds. Perfectly normal. She headed for the search console eagerly.
When Grae wandered into the wardroom sometime later, she was concentrating on the search console's training programs. He flopped in a couch and studied her for a while.
He was mellow after last night, just as she was. Funny, he was just as much into casual sex as any unattached man, but not with her at first, not until something about her broke through his noble resolve. He snorted at the "noble resolve" thought, but it was a fact he was reluctant to exercise his right with her. Too much baggage. Too afraid of getting too involved. Well, he was becoming involved now, and, oddly, it felt right.
That first time, he needed to go slow, for both of them. He was glad he had. For some unknown reason, there was a strong compatibility between them in bed, totally unexpected and almost a miracle, but there. He enjoyed sex with her as much as he had with Yelen, and, for some reason, that thought was no longer disturbing. He found he could think of Yelen without as much pain. No nightmares lately, either. He owed Frenchy for all of that.
He'd just reviewed the analysis of her mental scans, part of the initial treatments he'd given her the first night. He could have kicked himself for not checking them before now.
The results were interesting. She showed a high native intelligence and a good aptitude for problem solving. She was 9.7 on the Ocellirian Intelligence Scale, about his own level, and she possessed, as he already knew, a great deal of curiosity about new things. Her emotional stability was excellent, if somewhat prone to quick anger. He knew all about that last little characteristic too.
Frenchy was a very direct, self-confident person. Amazing as it might seem, he thought with a bit of surprise, that self-confidence made her almost an innocent in some ways, despite her background. After all, she’d showered then come looking for him as soon as she woke up in his ship, as though she was in her own apartment back on her home planet. He suspected she was impulsive enough to do something then worry about the consequences later. He’d have to keep an eye on her. He didn’t want her getting in trouble over that little trait. He was also a bit surprised to discover that self-confident innocence was also quite appealing.
There was something else. The scans hinted at other capabilities buried in her psyche, possibly psi talents, but he couldn't tell. It was going to take an analyzer far more capable than his ship's to pinpoint just what they were. He'd send the scans for analysis when he got back to an Arm office.
It didn't matter, he thought with a mental shrug. Whatever her psi abilities were, they would show up in time. What counted was she was trainable on galactic equipment. Too bad her culture had never let her develop her capabilities. That was his gain, though. The scan showed her capable of crew training and he was going to take advantage of the fact.
He gave himself up to just watching her for a moment, a big bawdy blonde that this morning had all the appearance of a working girl in a factory. Nude or not, she could create an aura about herself that gave whatever impression she wanted. Today, it was practicality.
Well, no time like the present. "Hey," he called, "want to try something new?"
She looked at him with a bright smile. "Let me at it! What do we do next?"
He smiled at her. "Use a teaching machine for the command systems."
Her expression was doubtful. "You want me to learn to fly this thing?"
Shaking his head with a little chuckle, he said, "No. That takes more than a teaching machine. I'm going to teach you the weapons console. If we have to fight, you would me more help to me than the computer. When you came aboard, I ran some tests, and they say you have the capability."
Frenchy was unsure of herself again but went along. Shortly, she was back in the library and hooked up to a previously unused machine right out of a TV writer's imagination. The thing looked like a mad scientist's version of a dental chair, complete with some kind of helmet and other strange gadgets. It didn't bother her. She'd seen them work on Star Trek.
Grae put the helmet on her head. She felt woozy for a second, and realized she was waking up from a trance like the hypno-learner's. "Did it work?" she asked.
He waved a hand negligently. "Go up on the command deck. The weapons console is set up for a simulation run. Just sit down and the problems will begin automatically."
Grae settled back on a couch again and watched her with a proprietary air. Climbing upon the command deck, she glanced at him uneasily then sat down in a command chair that adjusted itself to her body with squirming motions that still left her slightly queasy. She took a moment to get oriented then placed a small visor over her eyes.
Immediately, she had a vision of the space around the ship. There was a glowing grid surrounding her that was the computer's representation of the ship's defense fields. Reaching blindly forward, she grasped two handles that controlled the ship's guns and missiles. Thanks to her hypnotic conditioning, her fingers automatically found the trigger buttons contained in the handles.
There was a moment's disorientation then she realized the recognized the symbols hanging out beyond the screens were computer generated representations of enemy ships. Not only that, they were attacking!
She blasted the first one without thinking, and began to allow herself to become accustomed to the process of life and death battles in space. Hey, she thought, it was just like a computer game!
She spent the rest of the wake period blasting sham enemies and enjoyed herself hugely. Grae appeared satisfied and the results of his experiment
s weren't lost on her. He was apparently placing more trust in her abilities. How he viewed her, as a person or more valuable property, she couldn't tell. She suspected it was valuable property.
The purpose of the equipment wasn't lost on her, either. She was either aboard a ship extremely well-armed for its size or a small warship. That made sense in a remote region, if there were enemies for the ship to fight. The weapons bank plainly said bad guys did exist. It was too sophisticated to be just an affectation.
She wondered how she would do in her first fight. Grae appeared to calmly anticipate a battle sometime during the trip. He obviously had experience with a few of those.
She wondered about his past for the rest of the day. By all accounts, it must be interesting. Occasionally, another thought intruded. He was still distant, but he wanted her to help him in his work, a small step but an important one. Score one for her campaign.
Idly, she wondered what was going to happen next. A nagging little voice told her that whatever it was, it wouldn't be long in coming.
CHAPTER TWO
They were eating together in the galley when the ship announced imminent planetfall. The announcement didn't break into a mood, although they’d come far enough to have companionable meals. The understanding between them was more a mild truce than real enthusiasm.
It was a truce hammered out in the fires of constant simulated combat over the last ten days. It seemed like every waking moment Grae was telling her to plug into the weapons console and help him fight off some kind of menace. The constant practice not only made her thoroughly competent with the ship's offensive and defensive armament, it taught her more about Grae, since he linked his piloting console to hers, allowing them to train and fight as a team. She found she adapted easily to his slashing, aggressive style of piloting.
