FRENCHY

by George Olney

She wanted to let go, find something both practical and fun. Visions of everything from staid tweed suits to leather miniskirts danced through her mind then were regretfully discarded. A little Tribal shop in the middle of Nowhere, Lycanth, was no place to find a boutique.

  Oh, but when she got back to civilization... Look out!

  The man clerking the clothing section was someone out of a motorcycle gang. Leather pants, leather vest over bare chest, black bars painted under his eyes, shaven head with a long lock of hair braided behind and a set of mustachios to rival Weykhaz's pretty much summed him up. Mister Bruce he wasn't. More like Hulk Hogan.

  He was, however, looking at Frenchy with a great deal of admiration that turned to respect as soon as he stopped looking at other things and noticed her ear posts. "Lady," he asked, "how can I help you? You need clothing?"

  She bit back a sarcastic retort, remembering that Tribal culture pretty much didn't give a hoot what anyone did or didn't wear. "Yes," she replied, forcing herself to be courteous. No need to be snappy with this guy. He was trying to help. Instead, she gave him a bright smile, which seemed to do the trick, judging from his stunned expression. "I need something, really a whole outfit, for me and..."

  She looked at Maev, who frowned and shook her head. The girl didn't want any clothing. That damned hardheaded Tribal attitude about bondage, again! She mentally promised herself a little session with Maev about this later.

  "Just me," she concluded.

  The man looked at her again, appraising her this time with a professional attitude. "You're a bigger woman than most," he commented absently, "and I'm certain none of our standard sizes will fit. That's all we have in stock. Tokhaz isn't that large a town.

  "However, Lady," he continued, turning and leading them to a small alcove, "we've got a manufactory linked to the store's computer. Let's get your measurements, you pick out some styles, and we'll have it made up inside an hour or so."

  Now that was more like it! She wasn't too keen on the idea of a stranger running a measuring tape all over her nude body, but she might be able to put up with it at the prospect of choosing whatever she wanted from a style book.

  Clothes made just for her! All right!

  Neither, however, turned out quite the way she pictured. She found herself slipping into an expandable mesh suit that transmitted a 3D picture of her body to the computer. That set her mind at ease about roaming hands and tape.

  On the other hand, the styles weren't exactly Paris either. It turned out she had a choice of leather leotard outfits in any variation. Whoopee. The style book reminded her of the costume shack on a movie set she'd worked once, one of those cheapo barbarian muscle/sword/skin things that went straight to video and late night TV. Yuck!

  Come to think of it, though, she was living one right now. Maybe she ought to dress the part. Given that idea, it might be fun to get in the spirit of things. Frenchy, Amazon Queen of the Galaxy!

  She went back to the style book with a better humor, finally settling on a high-necked sleeveless one piece. "Make the back lower," she ordered. "Also I want the sides slightly higher cut, say to here. Put a triangular cut over the bodice and thread thongs through the side cuts for support."

  The man eyed her speculatively then did things with a small control pad that altered the picture in the style book to her specifications. The result was devastating. It was also a direct copy of the leading lady's costume in Amazon Queen Battles the Gold Hunters. If she had to wear one of the damned things, Frenchy had every intention of looking like a movie star. Even if it was only a grade B minus movie star.

  The undergarments were better, the material being an iridescent something that felt like silk. Good. At least they were a little more feminine than almost anything else she'd seen. Ought to be comfortable, too.

  After another speculative look at the picture, then at her, the man promised the clothing would be ready in an hour. That left a while to kill, but Maev had plans for the dead time. Motioning Frenchy to follow her, she headed for another section of the store. Within a few seconds, Frenchy found herself in the gun department. "Grae took the rifle," Maev commented. "We need to have a shooter and a little better armament than your ax and my good looks before we head back out into the Barrens. This is the place for it."

  Frenchy cast her a thunderous look at that humorous "looks" remark but realized Maev was speaking common sense. She had no intention of trying to take on a pack of lee'thal with just her ax. Grae, she certainly wasn't.

  Maev engaged the clerk in conversation and the two started comparing different weapons. From the in-depth discussion, Frenchy swiftly came to the conclusion that Maev was an expert. She was also sure that she, herself, certainly was not. That was a definite problem for survival purposes.

  Unless...

  The man handed Maev a beautifully made long gun, a sleek rifle with a crank just above the trigger guard on the right side. It had no obvious decoration. Purity of form was its real beauty, a beauty that obviously attracted Maev from her expression. Balancing the rifle, she swung it up to her shoulder and aimed swiftly at a tiny target on the wall about ten yards away before bringing it back down to look at it again. Maev took the proffered clip of ammunition from the sales clerk and inserted it, then cranked the little crank on the gun's side a half turn to load and cock the mechanism.

  She swung the weapon to her shoulder in one smooth motion. There was a sharp "snick" sound and a hole suddenly appeared in the center of the target.

  Frenchy breathed a whistle of appreciation. As far as she was concerned, Maev had just pulled off a magic trick. "Damn, girl," she said in an admiring voice, "you're good with that thing!"

  Maev brought the rifle down from her shoulder and looked at it for a few moments with an obvious mixture of appreciation, longing and regret. Then she held the weapon out to Frenchy. "You need this," she said. "It's a spring rifle, clip fed, crank on the side for each shot. It's made by the War Eagle tribe."

  Frenchy didn't take the gun. "Only one shot at a time?"

  Maev smiled. "That's all you need if you don't miss. We'll get a boltgun in case you do."

  Frenchy shook her head and pushed the rifle back at Maev. "Wrong girl for that. I've never shot a gun in my life and can't begin to match you. We'll get both the rifle and the pistol, but they're yours. You can use them and you deserve them."

  She could see Maev begin to bow up. It was against custom so she didn't like it. Nuts! "Maev," Frenchy continued earnestly, "I had my ax when Grae had me bound. You can have your rifle and pistol. Hell, I can't use the things! You can. We have to have them for our survival. You said so yourself!

  "Now take the guns." A very relieved Frenchy could see the acceptance dawning in Maev's eyes. Good. Maybe she could get the girl further out of the bondage trip, but it was going to take a little diplomacy.

  Damn it, the perverted little minx was as rigid as any man about the bondage custom.

  Nuts, again.

  Maev looked at her thoughtfully for a minute. "You still don't have a gun, you know."

  Frenchy shrugged and looked at the clerk. "What do you have for a girl that couldn't hit the barn side of a broad?"

  He flashed a brief grin at her humor then reached behind the counter. "Lady, I have just the thing for you. A bopper."

  Frenchy favored him with a quizzical look as the man placed what looked like a very short, fat single barrel shotgun on the counter top. There was a lever on top just behind the barrel and he pushed it to one side with his thumb, breaking it open to show an empty chamber. "It's a short range energy gun. Charge goes in here. Good for about fifty rounds then it has to be recharged, but I'll give you spares as well as a recharger. Range is about fifty or so yards, and has a good wide spread to the blast pattern. It'll stop a charging gort, or anything else. Just point in the general direction of your problem and let fly."

  Frenchy took the little gun by the small of the stock, her finger instinctively finding the trigger. After checking to see that t
here was no charge in the gun, she swung it at the shop target with a crouching, two handed hold. Like her ax, the weapon felt right for her and Maev nodded approval. The addition of a holster designed to be worn across the back completed her rig. With that, she could reach over her left shoulder and draw it with her right hand.

  Sort of like Grae's big sword, she thought. Okay, now she was dangerous at a distance.

  The ordering of additional camping gear completed the transactions. The clerk promised to have everything delivered to their room.

  They were walking back to the clothing section when Maev motioned for a detour. Stopping at a rack of bins that held leather straps of varying styles, lengths, sizes, and decorations, she looked shyly at Frenchy. "You know," she said, "everything happened so fast that I lost my miaso and never had a chance to get any. You ought to get some, too."

  The word puzzled Frenchy. "Miaso?"

  "They're a combination of straps women wear for decoration," Maev explained. "You show your individuality and enhance your femininity with them. You ought to get a set, also."

  Light dawned, again. Frenchy suddenly realized she'd seen them on women everywhere they went, present company excepted.

  She was objective enough to recognize that women liked to dress up, somehow. The miaso was the substitute for stylish clothes in a society that didn't care about clothes. Why not?

  "Sure," she answered. "Show me what to get."

  They had fun comparing straps of various configurations, even modeling a few combinations for each other. In a way, Frenchy decided, it was like a visit to a boutique back home.

  It was when Maev took a strap and began to fasten it around her neck that Frenchy's hackles went up. She snatched the strap from the girl's hands. "No! Nothing around the neck! Not you or me! Never!"

  Maev stared at her in surprise. "Why?"

  Frenchy threw the thing back in its bin. She drew a deep breath. To her surprise, she was shaking slightly. "Too much like a dog collar. Call it a peculiarity of mine."

  They finally settled on belts and wristlets, with Frenchy getting an additional studded headband and armband. She smiled to herself. That was all she needed to complete the duplicate Amazon Queen's costume she was preparing.

  They took the two miaso sets back to the clothing area, where Mister Hulk, as Frenchy privately named him, had her "suit" ready. She put it on, adjusted her miaso then turned to gauge the effect on Maev and Mister Hulk. Maev's expression was both thoughtful and admiring. Mister Hulk, on the other hand, seemed slightly stunned.

  Finally, she thought with a sigh of relief, she was dressed! Well, more or less dressed, she decided, looking in a mirror. On the other hand, no more public nudity.

  Maev commented, "You know, I couldn't picture all that together, before, but it certainly is attractive."

  Frenchy looked at Mister Hulk and giggled. He was still a little wide eyed. "I think it does what I want it to do," she commented with a smile.

  She roused the clerk out of his stupor and had him take out his style machine again. An idea had been brewing in her mind and she wanted to see the result. Swiftly, she ordered a duplicate outfit with legs, to the puzzlement of both Lycanthis. Using her finger and a lot of words, she also sketched a miniskirt to fit over her leotard and the clerk enthusiastically agreed to have it made, once he got the idea. Maev commented the thing was impractical since you couldn't sit a gort while wearing it, but, given the effect of Frenchy's clothing design on the male psyche so far, she thought it worth a trial.

  The fun began at the check-out counter. The credit account was legally registered to her electronic field and loaded with money. She was ready to spend it. She told the clerk, "Send everything to my room with the other stuff."

  The man nodded then looked at Maev. "And what about your purchases? Has your master got an account here?"

  "Oh," Maev said without thinking, "I'm bound to her. She's paying."

  It was like a light suddenly snapped on in both of their heads. The clerk favored her with a peculiar expression and gave Frenchy an even more peculiar one. Maev suddenly looked at Frenchy with much the same expression, blushed, and grew flustered.

  Frenchy couldn't make heads or tails of either Lycanthi's thoughts, then the light dawned for her also. Girls were usually bound, at least among the tribes, for sexual reasons. If Maev was bound to Frenchy, then the common Lycanthi reason was that she...

  Oh, shit.

  "NO! Oh, I mean - I'll pay for her but she's not - or she is, but - SCREW IT!!"

  Furiously, she thumb printed the bill and whirled, grabbing Maev's arm. "Maev, come on. Let’s get the hell out of here."

  As she was dragged out of the store, Maev turned and waved helplessly at the clerk. "Really," she cried over her shoulder, "it's not what - or - whatever!"

  Outside the store, Frenchy dropped Maev's arm, but not the full head of steam she was carrying. Dammit! She was a heterosexual healthy woman with heterosexual sex drives. Maev was a problem she inherited, not an amusement! How in the hell was she going to get around in this world when everybody who saw Maev was going to think she was a Lesbian?

  Damn Grae, anyhow, for getting her in another mess!

  As they entered the room, Frenchy ordered without thinking, "Get on the bed. I have to figure some things out."

  She thumped down in a chair and began to fume at the wall, mentally picturing everything she'd like to do to Grae over this little fix. It was several moments before she noticed Maev. More properly, she noticed Maev's expression.

  It was very uncomfortable and it was directed at her. Maev had the slightly panicky, trying-to-be-heroic look of the old time heroine about to undergo the Fate Worse than Death.

  Crap!

  For a moment, Frenchy had the nasty impulse of stringing her along. It wasn't as though she didn't know how it was done, courtesy a few girl-girl photo shoots years ago, but the thought was galling. She was just as exuberantly heterosexual as Maev. Just a lot more controlled about it, Frenchy sniffed haughtily.

  Then she realized something else. They were going to have to sleep together tonight.

  In the same bed.

  Crap one more time!

  She opened her mouth to speak, set things right, and absolutely nothing would come out. Just the expression on Maev's face kept her tongue tied. Finally, she was able to get something past the confusion. "Look, damn it! We've both got to sleep in that bed, tonight."

  Nope, wrong thing to say. Maev's expression confirmed it. She looked like somebody about to have a unique experience they really weren't sure about. Frenchy didn't care if she did or not. It just wasn't going to be a unique experience with her.

  Try again. "That's not what I mean! I mean, what I say I mean isn't what you think I mean when I say it. I just mean what I say."

  That was better. Now Maev just looked confused. Come to think of it, she was confused, herself.

  "Oh, DAMN IT!" Frenchy exploded. "Maev, get it through your head... I DON'T LIKE YOU!"

  Now the expression was hurt. "You don't like me?" she quavered in a little girl voice. Oops. All the reasons Grae had bound the girl to begin with came rushing back. Frenchy remembered all the stories about what a Tribal woman did when she was rejected. A trapped feeling began to add itself to the frustration.

  "Grrrrrrrr... ISAIDIDON'TLIKEYOU! But I meant I like you as a person! I don't like you as a woman!" No, that wasn't right either, come to think of it. What the hell was she trying to say?

  Maev seemed to finally get the idea. She brightened with happy relief. "Oh that's wonderful! I thought..."

  Frenchy jumped up. "Whatever it was, FORGET IT! We both like guys, OKAY?"

  That little comment having been said, she turned and stormed into the bathroom. Thank God they still had old fashioned doors in this place! It made a satisfying CRASH when she slammed it.

  Later, after things resumed a reasonably steady course, they had a more relaxed dinner down in the common room. Over the meal, they discussed
what they wanted to do next. "I'm going to find Grae," Frenchy pronounced. "He's not about to walk into a fight on his own. Not without me. Trouble is, I have no idea where he went from here. Any thoughts on the matter?"

  Maev shook her head. "No. I said before, he's pretty closed mouthed about what he does. All I know is that he is on a mission after Somnolent smugglers and trying to stop an escetepus infection. That's the why. The where part is a complete unknown to me."

  Frenchy frowned. She had to know where that damned, frustrating, no-good S.O.B. Grae was headed. She loved him. "Well, if neither one of us knows," she mused out loud, "the question becomes where we are going to go to find out the information."

  Maev lit up. "I know! Locar might tell us! He's not too keen on Grae doing away with himself, anyhow. If we presented him with a good alternative, he just might help us out."

  Frenchy was blank for a moment. "Locar? Oh, the strange guy in the office! But that's a long way back there!"

  Maev looked at her in surprise. "So? We'd call him on a vid-tex."

  Frenchy colored. Forgot again. This wasn't the Wild West or the Dark Ages. Of course they'd have some kind of advanced telephone. Damn it, remember her science fiction movies! "Okay," she said strongly, trying to cover her embarrassment, "I didn't know what it was called. Where can we find one around here?"

  Maev smiled slightly at her discomfort, knowing the reason. "Not here. Oh, there's plenty of the things around – everyone has one - but no secure ones. Locar would never open up on an unsecured line."

  Frenchy's face fell. "Stymied again?"

  "No," Maev shook her head thoughtfully. "We just have to find a secure unit. Grae took his and I wouldn't trust any unit in Tokhaz I hadn’t checked myself."

  She looked down at her nude self for a moment. "I obviously haven't got the equipment to do that right now.

  "No," she continued, "we have to go somewhere else, and I know just the place."

  Frenchy was eager. "Where?"

  "The Yellow Knife Freehold," Maev announced triumphantly. "We'll get Weykhaz and Grete to help us. Weykhaz swings a lot of weight in the Arm. He's still an Agent On Call. We might even persuade him to come with us. Even after we find Grae, we still have the smugglers to take out, and I don't relish doing that with just the three of us."