by George Olney
Grae suddenly found himself with a quick decision. Did he want to get into the middle of what looked like becoming a knock-down-drag-out brawl? By custom, Frenchy had to take anything Maev said, and shut up about it. On the other hand, Frenchy wasn't about to put up with the sort of treatment Maev was trying to dish out, and damn the consequences. The exchanges between the two women showed all the signs of swiftly escalating to the point that interstellar war would pale by comparison. Seeing Frenchy approaching critical mass, he decided to intervene. Besides, it might be saving Maev's life, or at least her appearance. "Frenchy, shut up," he snapped. "Maev, you shut up, too.
"Any more of this," he continued firmly, "and I'm going to let Frenchy handle her own problems." He looked Maev dead in the eye. "She can do it. I've seen her in action.
"I don't think you'd slow her down, Maev," he lied gallantly. In reality, he thought the two were about evenly matched, given Frenchy's larger size and Maev's training. It would be one hell of a fight. He glared alternately at both wide-eyed, silent women, then turned and beat a hasty retreat through the screen into the inner office. Once through, he took a deep breath. With any luck, they'd both be alive when he returned.
Frenchy stared at his retreating back, and collapsed into a nearby chair, flabbergasted. Off hand, she'd say she had just been complimented. By Grae? Was the man sick? Wow!
Maev turned icily back to her desk and busied herself ostentatiously at some task. Frenchy was inclined to let things remain at a hostile arm’s length, like two opposing border guards glaring at each other. Besides, she grinned, she figured she was ahead on points. Grae had slapped down that slinky bitch, not her. Another thought struck her, and she swept her hair back off her ears, displaying the beautiful little earposts Grae had given her. That ought to be good for a silent dig when next Catwoman looked her way. Pay attention, bitch, Frenchy was a Valued Woman.
The temperature in the office grew progressively glacial.
#####
The inner office was as cool and dark as the other office was temperate and bright. There were several banks of data and control terminals around the walls, but the only furniture was a desk and the single chair before it. Grae casually strolled into the office and seated himself without preamble in the chair, as one of very few beings in Galactic civilization privileged to do so.
The person behind the desk physically resembled a bald headed, wizened gnome from the waist up, dressed in a grey long sleeved tunic, and an antigrav robot from the waist down, the result of catastrophic injury incurred during an Enforcer mission that was still fully known only to a few beings. His name was Locar and he was a Shamshir, from Oconus.
It was his mind, however, that made him unique. His mind had made him officially chief of the Federation Enforcement Arm for this Sector, Chief Inspector Grae Kwaakani's boss. Unofficially, he had also become one of a small group of beings that constituted the real head of the Federation Government. He had other interests as well, many of them involving Lycanth. Locar wasn't human, but Lycanth and its particular brand of exuberant humanity were vital to his future plans. So, at this moment, was one of his best Enforcers, Chief Inspector Grae Kwakanni, now sitting in front of him.
"Your guess was right," Locar began. Between the two of them, preamble was regarded as nonessential. "I would say a major center of the infection, if not the major center, is the smuggler group you're trailing. Correlation gives it 94.8% certainty."
"I knew I was right, Locar" Grae nodded. "You shouldn't waste the money on Correlation. All they do is sniff the tracks and tell you which way the game went."
Locar gave a brief smile. "Your appreciation for the mega-credits of computers and dozens of highly paid specialists in that section is duly noted."
" Well, can they earn their high pay by telling us if this bunch is headquartered here?"
"Lycanth, yes," Locar confirmed. "Where on Lycanth is another story. I ought to know by tomorrow."
"Then I finish this," Grae said grimly.
Locar looked at him meditatively. He had something else to tell him, but not at this point in the conversation. "Possibly. Possibly not. The only reason you were on a smalltime case of smuggling was the amount of Somnolent involved. That pointed towards a recurrence of planetary piracy and murder on a scale that will never be allowed to occur again as long as an Enforcer draws breath."
Grae nodded grimly, in full agreement with that calm declaration. "Do you know who they are gathering it for?"
"We've never been able to connect this group with anyone else, but I think I know why."
Grae raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"They are planning on doing the job themselves."
"Themselves?"
Locar nodded. "Yes. All the facts point to it. They are accumulating the drug, but contacting no buyers and making no sales. I think the entire scheme came about when they contracted escetepus. It's the kind of megalomaniacal, murderous plan that would appeal to the organism."
In flat tones, Grae said, "Dose the population, steal everything they have while they are in the trance, then watch them die."
Locar nodded. "They were just small fry until one or more members contracted escetepus on the world you just left. Once the rest were infected, they set out on a course of destruction and domination that typifies the disease. In this case, I think they have a double purpose."
"What do you mean?"
"That world you were working on, XB734. That was a good job identifying their base there, by the way."
Grae shrugged. It was four months’ work to identify the smugglers and set up the Arm surveillance team he left behind, but the job was important to him only because it took him one more step towards his goal.
Locar looked at him steadily. "Correlation says XB734 is their target."
"Why?" That was Frenchy's home world! Grae had a brief vision of the lovely vital blonde as the emaciated sleepwalker Somnolent created and shuddered. It turned his stomach to think of her suffering a fate as horrible as... He shook his head and concentrated on the conversation at hand. He was not going to let anything like that happen to her.
Grae's reaction wasn't lost on Locar. He knew about Frenchy and suspected Grae's feelings. He kept his thoughts on the matter to himself. Grae would tell him or not, as the situation dictated. "XB734 is a typical Lost World left over from the dissolution of the Empire of Ten Thousand Suns. Until now, there has been no reason for us to do anything other than occasionally check on it. They are growing a civilization on their own. We'll firm up contact when they're ready to leave their solar system.
"Now, though, Correlation says the smugglers want to destroy the world for a reason that appeals peculiarly to escetepus. You know the population is largely immune to the disease. If the immunizing factor can be identified and spread throughout the Galaxy, the disease is finished. We've got it beaten. How the smugglers discovered that immunity, I'm not sure. There's some evidence the group you isolated was setting up a storage point like you destroyed on Parcellus. They discovered the population's immunity and XB734 became a priority target."
Grae nodded. "Makes sense. If I get the group here on Lycanth, I get the head and the main storage point. The gang on XB734 is nothing but an isolated outpost. The surveillance team will eliminate them. I'll have completed my mission, won't I?"
Locar replied with a slight nod. He knew exactly what Grae meant by that statement. He didn't like the idea Grae implied, but it was his right by the custom of the Tribes. He decided on a change of subject. "I see you've picked up a woman. Maev appears ready to kill her."
Grae chuckled. "She'd have a hard time doing it. Frenchy is one hell of a woman. Maev's pride is hurt. After Maev has a man, she considers him her property, and Frenchy doesn't take kindly to being pre-empted."
"Do I detect a note of affection?"
Grae thought about that. "Yes," he finally nodded. "I suppose so. Frenchy's tough minded, independent and refuses to let any situation beat her. My mother's exactly
like that and those are qualities that attract me very much. I'm finding myself very drawn to her. I never thought I'd find another after...
"I wish I hadn't," he finished bleakly.
Locar commented softly. "Maybe you should. It's a big universe, and there can be more than one combination of beings. Think about that. I need you for a few things. For instance, we're going to do something about slavery soon."
"I saw three of them coming up here. If the Tribes united, we could ban binding to Galactics, but that will never happen. The Tribes will not unite and Custom is graven in rock. We do not change Custom. For no reason. The best you can hope for is to kill off the slavers here on planet."
"Others would replace them. Possibly other things can be done. No problem is insolvable and I am working on this one. Hard."
"Slavery is a Wrongness."
"I agree."
"It's something to think about. Right now, nothing's as settled in my mind as I would have said a while back." Grae started to get up.
He stopped momentarily as Locar said baldly. "This infection source is the one you've been looking for. She's with the gang. She's the head, now."
Grae's face momentarily twisted with emotion. "I knew it, somehow. I can still feel her. Frenchy's strong, but I can still feel her."
"Grae, it's not her, anymore."
He nodded, his control back in place. "I guess I knew that, too."
He briskly rose form his chair with a half-smile on his face. "Look, I think I'd better get out of here before those two girls decide to try each other out and devastate your outer office."
"Excellent suggestion," Locar commented dryly. "Come back tomorrow. I'll have more for you."
"Right."
Locar regarded the field forming the wall to his office after Grae walked through it. He had no desire to lose that man, not with the slavery issue next on his agenda. Maybe this woman, Frenchy, was the key to saving him. He was going to have to know more about her. If she was trainable, she may have her uses. The last one did.
#####
After what seemed like about seven or eight years, Grae emerged from the inner office. Immediately, Maev's rigid posture evaporated and she was as sinuous as ever when she flowed from behind the desk and wrapped herself around him. Both women took intense note of the fact that his left arm was tightly around her waist. "Now that you're home, we need to see each other more," she said in a sultry voice. "We have unfinished business."
"Um-hm," he smiled at her then swung her around and away from him. "And I think it will remain unfinished. I have things to do while I'm here, Maev, and they don't include the kind of comet ride you usually take me on."
He started to walk out and Frenchy popped out of her chair to attach herself to his side. She grinned over her shoulder at the fuming Lycanthi woman.
"Grae, dammit," Maev snarled, "you don't need castoffs. The least you could do get a real woman."
Frenchy spun around to face the enraged girl. With a quick snap, she whirled the cloak off her body and stood there in a sultry pose, nude. "Honey," she drawled in a husky, syrupy voice, "that is exactly what the man did."
She spun on her heel and headed for the wall field, walking with the graceful, emphatic hip swings of a stripper's strut, timing herself to an imaginary drum beat in her head. Just before she walked through the field and out of the office, she paused, smiled wickedly over her shoulder, wound up, timed it to an imaginary drum roll, and delivered a devastating, Master's level, professional quality stripper's double-bump. With a final flip of the hip and another grin over her shoulder, she grandly departed, leaving the enemy shattered on the field of battle.
She strode on past the wall field, with a brisk, self-confident stride, grinning from ear to ear. A short burst of laughter behind her caused her to look back and discover Grae just emerging from the field. "Grae," she cried, "I thought you were out here!"
He shook his head, still chuckling. "And miss that? No way!
"Girl," he said as she came even with her, "you ought to have a license for some of the moves you just used. I guarantee they're dangerous to the young and unprotected."
"You have to be grown up to do it right," she grinned.
About that time, she noticed two things: First, that she wasn't in the vestibule she expected, but on one of the open galleries among a throng of passing people, and... Second, she was feeling a breeze where she normally didn't.
The Awful Truth suddenly hit. Her cloak was neatly folded on her left forearm. She was nude. In public. Crowded public.
For a few seconds she froze, unable to think or move. She was living one of every kid's childhood nightmares. There were people all around her, hundreds of people, thousands of people, and all of them were staring at her naked body. Whipping her head wildly in all directions, her hands flapped around her body as she frantically tried to cover herself.
Finally, she simply squatted slowly in place, knees clasped tightly together, and wrapped her arms across her breasts. Panic was gone, but embarrassment took its place. She didn't say anything, but looked around for help, a humiliated expression on her face.
A hand reached down and plucked the still furled cloak from her arm, then wrapped it around her. Grae's strong hands on her upper arms lifted her gently to a standing position and turned her to face him. Calmly, he twitched the front of the cloak closed below her neck and fastened it.
She looked at him with a pained blush, embarrassed at what had happened, embarrassed at her reaction, just terribly embarrassed.
"Come on, Frenchy," he said softly, letting his hands fall away from her. "There's a cafeteria over there. We'll get something to drink and calm you down."
Nursing a glass of a subtle tasting cool drink she had no name for, her composure finally returned. Fortunately, Grae maintained a diplomatic silence. She was in no condition for chitchat. She was still blushing, for God's sake!
Finally, she peeked up under her eyelids at him, meanwhile still moodily turning the glass in her hands. He was sitting there calmly, showing a relaxed, matter of fact attitude. She looked back at her glass. She wasn't quite ready to meet his eyes, yet.
Taking a deep breath, she began, "You, know, a lot of people have the wrong idea about strippers. I don't know many girls that are comfortable skinning down in a real public place. I guess I'm not. I-I'm kind of shy, really."
Frenchy glanced up at him. He was relaxed and attentive to what she was saying. Emboldened, she decided to continue. She didn't know what she'd do if he laughed. Lord, please don't let him laugh!
"Once you get on stage, you're kind of in your own little world. You know they're out there, but the darkness beyond the stage kind of gives you a little privacy. Even when I went out to work the room, it was always dark. You put up the lights, and it's a little scary."
Taking a sip of her drink, more to cover nervousness than anything else, she said, "Once I was working a place and something happened. I was doing... a table dance." She made a wry, slightly embarrassed expression. "You know, up on the table for the guy. Nothing but skin, twenty bucks a pop. Well, all of a sudden the music died and the bartender had to put on the main lights. There I was, up on top of the table without a stitch, right in the bright of day, seemed like. Without the music, I just suddenly felt isolated, on display like in a shop window on the street. I did the same thing then. I squatted down and wrapped up in my arms. It felt like hours before the lights went off again. I stayed squatted the whole time. It's funny, because they all saw everything before the lights came on, but it felt different."
She looked him dead in the eye, trying to make him understand. "In the dark, I was nude. In the lights, I was naked, and that's scary, and lonely.
"I guess the same thing happened to me here," she finished.
There were a few seconds of silence then he said quietly, "We all have something that scares us. I respect that. I respect you, and what just happened is something that happened, nothing more.
"I knew we weren't
going out the way we came in, but I didn't say anything. If I'd known it would hit you like that, I'd never of let you walk out without your cloak." He leaned across the table and looked closely into her face, continuing in the same gentle voice, "The cloak's a defense, isn't it? A defense against a world you face all alone. You're afraid of being alone and defenseless.
"That's done with. Never again. I will not let you be alone and you will never be defenseless again, no matter where you go.
"I promise you that you will always have someone at your side for the rest of your life. No matter what. You have been alone against the world all your life. You never will be again.
"For now and in the future, I will be here for you," he finished.
She looked at him silently, once again trying to figure out what went on behind that gray eye. His slightly strange speech wasn't exactly promising undying devotion, but it was a commitment. She knew that. She knew he meant every word he said, and when he said she'd never be alone again, that was exactly what he meant. It wasn't the height of romance, but it was enough for her. She was satisfied.
She could feel the tension in her body draining away, taking with it a fear she finally acknowledged. She felt relaxed and, she realized, secure. It was almost a strange feeling.
Slumping back in her seat, she took another swig of her drink and favored him with a wry smile. "Okay, buddy, you got a deal and an ex-stripper on your hands, God bless you. What do we do next?"
He smiled back. They had an understanding. He leaned back in his seat in a decisive manner and prepared to leave the table. "Come on," he said, "let's go get a place to stay for the night."
She nodded and started to move, pausing a second to wrestle with a fold of the cloak that had tangled in her chair. She was briefly irritated and momentarily wished she could get rid of the thing. But she needed it, didn't she? If she took it off, she didn't have any clothing. Like he said, it was her defense. She briefly considered and rejected the idea she had to keep the cloak because removing it would reinforce Grae's concept of her bondage to him.
