FRENCHY

by George Olney

  She stood behind him for a while, fascinated with what he was doing. Besides, watching him was a good excuse not to have to look at this weird dungeon. Just the occasional glance around her gave her the willies.

  Finally, after many moments of cryptic action with his devices, he turned to her and said, "I've figured out the stasis field. Go over and pick up something inside it while I record the field breakdown."

  She shook her head in violent negation. "Like hell I will, buster! You get another goat! This little girl isn't about to fiddle with anything in this creep kingdom!"

  He gave her an ironic look. "You're supposed to do what the hell I tell you without question, not that you ever have, Frenchy.

  "Look," he growled, facing her and pointing to the stasis field glowing brightly in the room's center, "I've analyzed the damn thing. There's nothing harmful there, just old metal. When you place your hand in the field, it collapses. I want to catch the field emanations at the moment of dissolution, so I can't do it."

  His face broke into a surprisingly friendly smile. "You're tough enough to take me on in a fight. You ought to be able to put your hand down on an old piece of metal."

  She was irritated at him, and confused at his attitude. Suddenly, he just wasn't his normal detached self. Something else showing through?

  Taking a deep breath, she took off the cloak and neatly folded it before setting it on the floor next to her. If she had to do anything - such as run like hell – it was now more of an encumbrance than a help. She'd seen enough barroom brawls to know that.

  Carefully walking up to the stasis field, she examined the objects on the platform inside it. In the glow of the field, she found herself looking at a treasure as new as the day it was made. There were a number of gleaming objects that put her in mind of golden crowns and jewelry of various types, although the shapes were unfamiliar to her. Two of the metal objects seemed to be weapons, and, oddly enough, those drew her hand before the bright and shining jewelry. They were about two feet long and made of what looked like steel, flat, with five ax heads sprouting from multiple branches like leaves of a garden weed. The thick handle portion was securely wrapped with a soft material, or so she found out when she broke the field to pick one up.

  She was hefting the strange ax in her hands when she chanced to look over at the corner where the two cocoons were. The stasis field wasn't there anymore. She froze. With the corner of her eye, she could see Grae was still intent on his meters. He didn't see it! The one intact cocoon was splitting!

  One claw tipped, six fingered hand wormed its way past the strands of the cocoon and began to silently push aside the covering, making almost no sound. The whole arm followed. It was thin, muscular, and gleaming with some sort of mucus. The rest of the creature was as unpleasant as the arm.

  She stood, frozen, unable to breathe as it started to leave its age old prison. There was no doubt it was hostile. The lipless, chitonous mouth opened, showing long fangs as the creature freed itself from the last of the cocoon. It was almost without thinking that her right arm whipped back and she threw the ax at the creature.

  The ax whickered as it spun through the dead air of the room in a flat arc. By chance, it was a perfect throw. One of the multiple heads buried itself to the shaft in the creature's midsection and it collapsed against the empty husk of its cocoon.

  Already standing, Grae looked at the dead creature mildly, showing no surprise. It was as if he expected her to kill threatening monsters on sight. On the other hand, his gun was out. Apparently, he'd been aware of the creature from the start.

  As pale pus began to ooze from the creature's wound, he was suddenly galvanized into action. "Touch nothing," he hissed urgently, grabbing her arm and shoving her towards the stairs, "just get the hell out of here!"

  They stumbled up the stairs at a breathless run, trying to find steps in the flickering shadows of the single light stick he'd grabbed as they darted from the chamber. Reaching the main room, she stopped, gasping, as he spun, grabbed something from his belt, and pitched it down the shaft. He shoved her forcibly to the floor and covered her with his body as an underground blast shook the millennia dead temple, flame and dust boiling up the shaft opening. Leaping up, he paused only long enough to pull the stone cover back into place then shoved her towards the entrance. She took off and didn't stop to wonder about their mad dash. The fact that whatever it was scared Grae was enough for her.

  As they ran back into the light of day, she realized he was carrying the lamp in one hand and the twin to the first throwing ax in the other. They raced back across the clearing towards the ship, but he dropped what he was carrying and grabbed her with bruising force just as she was headed up the ramp to the ship's interior. "No! Not yet! We have to decontaminate first! I don't want that stuff loose in my ship!"

  Letting her go, he faced the ship and shouted, "Emergency decontamination --escetepus!"

  The ship began to extrude a long flexible tube over their heads as Grae threw his gear and weapons into a pile at his feet. He began to pull off his clothing, tossing it into another pile. Working the fastening to his pants, he glanced at her and said urgently, "Take off your shoes! Throw them on the pile with my clothing! Now!"

  Hurriedly, she obeyed his command, wondering what in the hell was going on but realizing now wasn't the time for discussion. He was racing against time for some reason and, knowing him, the reason had to be a good one. She sincerely hoped they'd win the race!

  With both of them nude, the nozzle on the end of the overhead tube drenched them with a fine, oily, evil smelling spray. Since Grae rubbed it all over his body, she proceeded to follow suit. When both of them were thoroughly covered, the nozzle gave the gear the same treatment.

  Another arm extended from a panel on the ship's side, holding two cups of liquid. Grae grabbed his and drank it, motioning for her to follow suit. She immediately did, and nearly gagged. The stuff tasted worse than the decontaminant smelled.

  The equipment was just sprayed, but the clothing was done differently. When the nozzle was directly over the clothing, flame spouted from the hose and reduced the pile of cloth and leather to instant ash.

  She stood there briefly, oily, filthy, smelling like an overripe fish market, and looked at him with a mildly inquisitive expression. "Um, about this little exercise...is there any old thing on your mind you'd like to mention to me?"

  He was settling down and quickly regaining his composure. He looked at her and broke into a grin, then, finally, laughter. Reaching around, he gave her bare bottom a loud swat. This time it didn't seem to hurt. "Frenchy," he laughed, "you're something else.

  "Come on in the ship," he continued, grinning, "I'll tell you the whole story after we clean up."

  For some reason, she thought as they entered the ship and headed for the shower, the compliment gave her a tingly, pleasant feeling. Her mellow mood lasted just long enough for him to casually grab first use of the shower, like she wasn't even there. Back to aggravation, again.

  #####

  It wasn't until she was clean and curled up in the wardroom with something tall, cold, and mildly alcoholic that she felt like being friendly again. She looked across at Grae, also collapsed in a lounger and noted that he hadn't bothered to dress after cleaning up. He was as nude as she was. She asked, "Mind telling me what kind of bullet we just dodged?"

  He smiled at her over the rim of his own drink. "Yes. Escetepus."

  She gave him an irritated expression. "Okay, I guess that will do for starters. Now, do I clap with joy or faint with relief?"

  His smile broadened. "A momentary dizzy spell would probably be about right.

  "You know," he mused, "I'm really beginning to like you. You're tough, and you're ready for anything. You're very much like the women of my own tribe.

  "There's few women I'd say that to," he commented with another smile, sipping his drink. "You're something pretty special."

  She flushed slightly, but he ignored it as he continued, his e
xpression turning grim. "Escetepus is a disease," he said flatly, "but with a difference.

  "Be careful around it. Like I said, you're special and I wouldn't want you to catch it." A strange, sad expression flitted across his face, surprising her. It was the first hint of sadness she'd ever seen in him. Something had happened in his past, something to do with the disease. It had to be bad, to shake him up like it did.

  Taking a sip of his drink, he gave her an intent look, and continued speaking. "Escetepus is damned nasty. It killed off this planetary population, including what were apparently two senior members – or something else - put in stasis, one of whom we met. But killing isn't what makes it something to dread. A lot of diseases kill.

  "The disease is caused by," he said grimly, "or, more properly is, intelligent life forms. The bacillus, once it infects a host, becomes a group intelligence when it reaches a critical level in the host's body. It takes over the host and uses it for its own purposes for a time, then the host invariably dies, usually in great pain. Apparently the bacteria colony fights the host's death, but can't avoid it.

  Frenchy shivered. "Escetepus, huh? That's what the boogey man had?"

  He nodded. "There are several peculiar characteristics about the disease. We know it reproduces by contact infection, or is transmitted by aerosol means in a few cases, but apparently only can develop in, or even be hosted by, an intelligent being. Below a certain level of intelligence, we've never even found the bacillus in a dormant state. I'm confident it's no longer a threat on this world, because there's no intelligent life left on it. That was the last host. You killed the last intelligent being on the planet."

  She grimaced. "I sound like a criminal when you say it that way. How do you know we're safe?"

  He continued, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and cradle his drink in his hands, "I destroyed the bacteria, the best way I know how.”

  He shook his head. "But you're not a criminal, far from it. What you killed was a body motivated by the most deadly threat known to galactic civilization. I know we're safe because the computer has been constantly scanning since I identified the disease. It has a special program to do just that. This world is like a big, empty park. Take reasonable precautions with the wildlife, and we can do whatever we want while we're here."

  "What about the other power source?" she asked.

  "Good question," he nodded. "It doesn't belong here and we're going to investigate, but we're safe. Again, the computer reports no sign of intelligent life forms."

  "What are you going to do about it?"

  "I'll tell you later," he said. "First I need to tell you more about the disease.

  "It causes a personality change. The host becomes brilliantly intelligent, but totally hostile to uninfected life forms. Millions not killed by the disease have died because of that hostility. In all the galaxy, it's the only thing that can truly terrify me or anyone else.

  "We think it's extragalactic and just inherently unable to survive beyond a certain point in this galaxy... which may account for why it's so hostile. That may be the only thing that's saved us, although we ruthlessly track down and stamp out any manifestation of the disease.

  "The hostility is very subtle. An infected host is simply pure evil, in the classic sense."

  She shuddered. "I'm glad it never got to Earth."

  He looked at her over the rim of his drink and said calmly, "It did."

  She sat up, shocked. "Huh!?!"

  "For some reason, lady, your world is largely immune, something seen nowhere else in the galaxy. That is one reason I was there. Oh, you’ve had infected individuals. There were people throughout your history that schemed themselves to positions of leadership then committed murders by the million. Your planet's had the disease all right."

  Frenchy was thoughtful for a moment. "Am I immune?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know for sure. I have no way of telling with the equipment I have and I don’t intend to take chances. We have a team on your world studying the immunity, among other things, but they were still in the preliminary stages when I left.

  "Besides," he looked at her appraisingly, leaning back in his chair, "that isn't why I took you."

  She ignored the look, its implications, and his last comment. Something else was bothering her and she decided on a direct approach. "Answer me a question."

  He looked indulgently amused. "If I can."

  "What are you? What are you doing? I thought you were an archaeologist, but you aren't are you?"

  He smiled, pursed his lips and said with a mock-thoughtful expression, "That's more than one question, but let's see: Lycanthi, relaxing, and no. Does that satisfy you?"

  "R-r-r-r-r-gh." She started a slow burn that was obviously leading up to an explosion deadly to the human male and any other disgusting form of low life immediately handy to her.

  "Okay," he laughed. "I surrender. Peace. I'll tell all."

  She slowly deflated and looked at him warily. "You mean that?"

  "Yes," he said with a smile. "Like I said, I like you. You deserve to know what's going on."

  She tried to hide her emotions, but she was thoroughly elated. It was working. He was starting to think of her as a person. The problem, she realized wryly, was that the same thing was happening to her about him. He was interesting and attractive when he relaxed. Hell, she snorted, he was almost sexy. Careful, girl! She took a sip of her drink to cover her thoughts. "Well, how 'bout it, oh master, tell your miserable slave all."

  "Miserable slave your gorgeous ass," he snorted. "Slave you aren't and never will be, not if I can help it."

  Frenchy started at those words, but quickly lost her train of thought as he continued to speak. "Anyhow," he began, "I'm a Federation Enforcement Agent. You're right, by the way, I studied to be an archaeologist when I left the Tribal Mandate, one reason why I was interested in that treasure trove. We had the time to study it and I wanted to."

  He took another sip of his drink. "Back to me. A war took me away from archeology and I eventually found myself in the Enforcement Arm. A while back, I was chasing a particularly nasty drug smuggling band, and that turned into a seek-and-destroy mission on this Escetepus outbreak. The drug they were smuggling was Somnolent."

  Seeing her questioning expression, he explained. "Somnolent destroys the will and eventually kills the nervous system. Once it was used to murder most of a planetary population so the world could be looted. After that, the drug was banned throughout civilized space. Somnolent's dangerous, but not nearly on the scale of escetepus. I was originally assigned the Somnolent investigation, but my orders were changed as soon as we knew the smugglers were infected. The infection is now my primary mission. The smugglers are just part of that."

  Frenchy shuddered slightly. Somnolent. It appeared even advanced civilizations like Grae's had drug problems, but they were doozies compared to the ones she knew.

  "Since I began the assignment," he continued, "it has taken me many places, including your world, and I'm only now making any kind of headway. We identified and placed under surveillance a small band of smugglers in your city and got a lead on this planet several days before I took you. I think that other power source is a protection field for a Somnolent storage point. Right now, it's untended. Apparently they are relying on this planet's isolated location to keep it safe, so there's no rush in checking it out, and plenty of reason for caution. I'm going to study it for a day or so before doing anything, to include moving from this spot. That’s one reason we came to this power source first. I didn’t know what it was, and I needed to know before taking on the storage point. I'll go from there to wherever what I find leads me next. Stamping out the infection will take the rest of my life."

  "That long," she mused. Then realized his life span controlled her future. She was thinking so hard about that, she missed the bleak expression on his face.

  The next morning dawned bright and sunny, with the promise of a hot midday. Looking at the surrounding terrain in th
e ship's screen, she thought it might be a nice day to work on a little tan since things had settled down and Grae wasn't going anywhere, anyway. Frenchy realized what she was thinking and laughed. Here she was, in the middle of the adventure of a lifetime, sitting on an alien planet as possibly one of the first two humans ever to visit it, just survived an encounter with a hostile monster by killing it herself... and she was thinking about taking an afternoon off for an all-over sun tan.

  Legally, no less.

  Looking at the control deck read-out for outside temperature, she translated the number as being in the mid-seventies and headed up already. That decided her. Fearless Frenchy, galactic adventuress and designated sexpot, was fixing to take time out for herself. She liked the fun of exploring, but crashing for a day seemed like such a fine idea.

  An ideal solution was to get Grae to go along with her plan. Simple, right? No, but what the hell. "Grae, what's on tap for today?" she called to the back of the ship.

  His voice was muffled. He was still in bed. "Nothing urgent, but we need to detail scan the other power source. I want to know all I can about it before moving. We need to be up and doing in a little bit."

  Um-hmm. Be up and doing. Sure they were. Judging from past experience, when he was in bed past her waking, he was good for a while yet. There was time for her to work up a diversion. Better get cracking.

  As she bustled off, the realization that he had included her in the day's planned activities made her tingle with a little thrill. This day was starting off very nicely.

  A short while later, Grae opened his eyes to view a hot cup of coffee in two feminine hands. The coffee was being offered to him and the hands were connected to a large bare blonde that had all the appearance of a great lady at a fancy ball for nudists. Her hair was put up in some fashion that was both formal and exciting, and subtle make-up enhanced the mature beauty of her face. He took her up on both the coffee and the other offer.