FRENCHY

by George Olney

  Then, as though she knew exactly where he was, Frenchy looked up and stared straight in his direction. She seemed to look him right in the eye.

  "Weykhaz," she said, "he's up there in those rocks just ahead of us. He's seen us, too."

  Weykhaz gave the approaching rock wall a brief but minutely searching glance. "Girl, either you've got far sharper eyes than any human I've ever known, or your mental abilities are truly what you say they are. I saw traces of a mounted gort back in the last gully, so I know someone's out here. You're sure it's him?"

  Frenchy nodded. "Very sure. I know I feel him."

  Grete broke in, "Did I not tell you my daughter has the way of finding her man? She has but to lead, we follow, and a grand surprise is laid out for our son!”

  "Oh, I doubt if it's much of a surprise," Evan commented with his habitual absent tones. "He's been watching us quite a while, I expect."

  Frenchy nodded. "He knows who we are. He's waiting."

  As his gort got better footing in the dry wash at the base of the ridge, Weykhaz nodded and nudged his beast into a little faster pace. "Well, then, let's not let the boy wait too long."

  As they approached the rock, Frenchy's mind was boiling with uncertainty. Here she was, close to reaching a goal she'd been seeking - maybe for most of her life - and she couldn't for anything on Earth, or Lycanth, figure out what to do next. How in the hell was she going to convince Grae to let them help?

  More importantly, how was she going to convince Grae to give up trying to kill himself? That the job was hers, there was no doubt in anyone's mind. If she couldn't do it, this whole thing fell apart and she may as well go back to Earth and be a stripper again.

  Thinking of that made her realize how far she'd come from the washed-out, slowly dying has-been who'd been kidnaped from a dead end strip bar. She owed Grae for that. He'd given her the chance to become what she was now.

  For a brief second, she fought down a mad urge to start giggling. What she was right now was the Amazon Queen of the Galaxy, complete with assorted Companions out on an Adventure.

  She took a deep breath and took hold of herself. Okay, all seriousness, now. As soon as they got that frustrating bum she loved down off his rock, she was going to have to talk some sense into his head. Trouble was, she still had no idea how to do it.

  Maev rode near her and leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Frenchy, I don't know how you're planning to pull this one off. I know I couldn't. I just want to wish you good luck. I'm rooting for you."

  Great! Just what she needed to hear: moral support and no ideas. She was rapidly developing mental paralysis as she chased her thoughts around in ever shrinking circles. God, what if she froze up and did nothing!

  Briefly, she even considered Grete's Mother Nature tableau trick, but that wouldn't work out here. She thought about Grae, again. There had to be a way inside that thick skull of his. Damn that stubborn, suicidal jackass!

  Grete leaned over and spoke in a low, friendly tone. "Child, hear a bit of a mother's wisdom. When handling a man, the woman that makes the first move is oft a winner in the game. Can you but get him off balance, keep him there until he shortly discovers he's done your bidding."

  Now that made sense! For a moment, she wondered how to get that jerk off balance. Then she started a low boil. That bum had deserted her. He'd left her and gone off to brood on old hurts and kill himself like somebody out of a two-bit melodrama. Fixed her up just like he thought she ought to be, then pulled up stakes and left the game.

  Well, that was wrong, buddy! He hadn't asked her what she wanted and that was a big mistake! She wanted him! That's what she wanted, damn his eye! It was just about time the arrogant son of a bitch gave her some choice in the matter. He could go off and fight bad guys if he wanted, but not without this girl! Not on his life. She was going to keep him from killing himself if she had to kill him herself to prove her point!

  Weykhaz glanced casually at Frenchy then took a closer second look. Those big blue eyes were lit up like furnaces. He was prepared to swear there was smoke coming from her ears and flames from her dilated nostrils, as well. With a sure instinct for survival, he quickly looked away before breaking into a broad grin. It looked like the long awaited tenderly romantic meeting between his son and this girl was going to a hell of a lot of fun to watch.

  He shook his head ruefully. Circumstances be damned, Frenchy was every inch Grete's daughter. Maybe the boy didn't know it, but he was messing with the kind of power that made a live volcano pale to a minor annoyance by comparison. Ah, Grete and Frenchy. When those two blocks of high explosive put their heads together, a thousand years of tradition and emotional conditioning just didn't stand a chance. The best thing a mere man could do was cooperate with the inevitable.

  They approached the rocks where Grae was watching them and Frenchy knew he was marking every step their gorts took. As they got within a few yards of the rocks, Grae suddenly stood up from what, to all eyes, appeared featureless ground. How he'd gotten there, Weykhaz and Evan could have probably said. Duplicating the feat would have been hard, even for them. One minute, there was just rough scrub. The next minute, he was standing there, quietly watching them.

  Seeing the pattern of white and black bars that fully covered his face, Maev sucked in her breath in surprise. "That's his death paint," she muttered loudly.

  "Well, he's about to be dead once I get my hands on him," Frenchy snorted as she threw herself off her gort.

  By unspoken common consent, Weykhaz, Grete and the other two remained seated on their mounts, waiting to see what happened next. Frenchy stalked stiff-legged, arms pumping, towards the man, the utter picture of mounting fury. She stopped directly in front of Grae.

  "You ran out on me, you son of a bitch!" she snarled - then uncorked a beautiful right cross that connected on his chin.

  For the second time since he'd known her, Grae found himself suddenly on his back with a ringing in his head. She dropped to straddle his chest, sitting on his stomach and grabbing both shoulders in her hands. She shook him roughly and yelled, "You think you're going off alone and getting yourself killed? Well, I'll be damned if that's so! Where you go, you bum, you go with me! Do you understand that? I'm your wife as far as I'm concerned and I love you, you miserable, no good bastard! I'm not going to let you go!"

  Looking up into blue eyes that were starting to glisten with tears, Grae reached around a female arm that pinned one shoulder and rubbed his jaw tenderly. "When will I learn not to let you get within range? At least, not when you've got a head of steam up?" he asked in a level dry voice.

  It dawned on him that the confusion, the horror and the fears that had haunted him were slowly being leached away like water drying up on his beloved Barrens. Frenchy was back. He had his golden woman again. Grabbing her at the waist with both hands, he lifted a very surprised Frenchy in the air. Throwing his feet underneath himself, he leaped to a standing position and dropped her roughly onto his left shoulder, head dangling behind his back and her legs kicking in front to him. Clasping her thighs tightly, he used his other had to swat her hard on her leather clad bottom. "Settle down, Frenchy," he said calmly to the wildly struggling woman on his shoulder. "Damn if you're not right. I love you and I need you."

  The last statement penetrated Frenchy's fury and she lay there in a daze as Grae waved in a totally relaxed fashion to the other four. "Father, Mother, Evan, Maev, good to see you all."

  At that point, Weykhaz threw back his head and roared with thunderous laughter.

  Still carrying his stunned and confused burden, Grae calmly walked over and shook hands with each of the group in turn. Weykhaz didn't stop laughing to shake hands, and by this time tears of hilarity were rolling down his cheeks. Evan's greeting was a broad grin and a relaxed, "Hello, Cap'n." Maev appeared slightly flustered while Grete's face showed shock.

  Walking a few feet back towards the rocks, Grae dropped Frenchy on her feet with a solid thump. Wrapping his arms firmly around her
waist, he proceeded to kiss her deeply. Coming up for air, he commented, "You know, woman, you're nuts."

  Holding him tightly, she rested her head on his chest and said softly, "I love you too, you big lug."

  Suddenly, she leaned back and looked him dead in the eye. "Are you going to wash your face?"

  Looking tenderly down at her, he made an instant decision that felt very, very right to the depths of his soul. The part of him that was also his lost bondsmate gave a silent, loving agreement. "Yes, Mistress. I'm going to wash my face. There is still a thing that needs doing, something harder than I've ever done. With you at my back, I think I can do it. The rest will happen as it happens, but I love you."

  He kissed her again, a quick peck, and turned to the others. Pointing back beyond the rocks, he said, "Camp's over that way. Come on, we'll get something to eat."

  Later, they all sat around the campfire, sated from a good meal, and watched the dancing flames. Evan remarked, "Cap'n, see you still wear the Skull."

  Softly stroking the big blonde that had grafted herself to his side, he grinned back at his friend. "Never taken it off since Derkhan."

  Frenchy leaned out and looked up at him, curious. She realized they were talking about Grae's earring. "Just what's that all about, lover? Come on, tell me."

  Grae shrugged, but Evan, sitting next to an also very close Maev, told the story. "Fleet screwed up. Dropped us right into a big bunch of Wareegans on Derkhan. The Cap'n got us out. After that, we all got together and awarded him his Skull."

  "The Scouts gave no awards during the War," Grae clarified, "and would wear none. When a unit jointly agreed a man had done something that merited strong recognition, they awarded him the Skull."

  "Far as I know," Evan added, "only about twelve were ever given. Cap'n deserved his. He's the reason I'm here and the reason a lot of others came home from that mess."

  Weykhaz beamed with fatherly pride at that and Grete fairly glowed. Both knew the earring's meaning and the story, but it made them proud to hear someone tell it.

  Weykhaz changed the subject. "Called Locar before we left. He said to hold up until tomorrow night. Looks like the whole bunch will be assembled in their base then."

  "Why?" Grae asked.

  "Our friends out there made the mistake of hijacking a large enough cargo ship that the Arm was included in the Theft Alert. Locar says it is supposed to arrive day after tomorrow and that is when they will load out to execute their plan for XB734."

  Grete sucked in her breath with a shocked sound. She looked at Frenchy. "That's the Galactic name for our fair Earth, child! Weykhaz! Why did you not tell me of this before? What plan?"

  Weykhaz smiled at her grimly. "I wasn't sure what would happen when we got here. Don’t worry, mistress. That cargo ship isn’t going to arrive. The Arm already has it."

  Ignoring Grete’s relieved expression, Frenchy leaned forward urgently. "But what plan? What were they going to do?"

  Grae squeezed her gently and looked in her eyes. "Calm yourself, mistress. Their plan is now a moot point. We're cleaning it up on Earth and we'll clean it up here tomorrow. Nothing will happen to your world."

  "But what were they going to do?" Looking in Grae's eye, Frenchy felt the tension leaching out of her. If Grae said something was under control, that wasn't an opinion. It was a cold fact.

  Weykhaz answered her. "You know about Somnolent and its effects?"

  Frenchy nodded.

  "It only takes a few parts per million to control and kill a human. Locar says they have enough stored under that hill to dose the potable water sources of all of your major civilized areas. They planned to kill off your entire civilization and a good many of the more primitive areas as well. Once the world was under Somnolent, the gang could plunder at leisure and devote some time to using their weapons systems on the survivors. The plunder was important, but genocide was more important. Locar told me about the immunity most of your people have to escetepus. That was something any escetepus colony would want obliterated."

  Evan spoke up. "So Frenchy's people are immune to escetepus? That could be a big help to the whole Galaxy, once we found out how to spread it around. Don’t think I’d like for someone to stop that. Hmm... off hand, sounds as though these characters are not very nice."

  Frenchy didn’t see it that lightly. "Those people are horrible!"

  "They aren’t people anymore," Grae shot back in a flat dry voice. He squeezed Frenchy with a sharp tight hug that revealed the fierce protectiveness he felt for her.

  He went on more softly, speaking directly to her rather than the group at large. "They aren’t people, mistress. Each one is a walking colony of the worst organism I know. That’s why we’re going to clean them out tomorrow night."

  Weykhaz nodded. "And it will happen. The remaining gang will all be here to meet and load their ship tomorrow night. That will let us isolate and stamp out the entire infection."

  Grae nodded, "Agreed. We’ll use tomorrow’s daylight to let you all see what the ground's like. Did Locar give you the interior plan?"

  Weykhaz shook his head. "He said you had it."

  Grae nodded. "Yes. I called him a couple of days ago and he gave me the layout then. We got it from dead-braining the smugglers killed when we rescued my lady, here," he gave Frenchy another little squeeze. "A reconstruction team scanned the mind of every one of those thugs we killed until we had a pretty good picture of the inside."

  "At least," he said dryly, "we checked those in good enough condition to reconstruct. Things got a little frisky during that fight.

  "Recon tomorrow," he continued. "Then we go in tomorrow night."

  Frenchy held Grae tightly with an arm around his back. She just rested her head on his chest and let the conversation flow around her, although she knew everything that was said. She had him back, and the feeling was a wonderful golden glow that warmed her deep inside. There was going to be danger tomorrow night, but that was tomorrow and tonight was tonight. She was going to make sure they slept apart from the others, too. She felt that old tingle start up as she thought of holding his strong body with hers as they made love.

  A little worry nagged her. She wondered what Grae meant when he once said that a thing needed doing. Something to do with his bondsmate? It was important, but now was not the time to worry about it. That was for tomorrow night.

  Tonight was tonight, and she had him. That was enough.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Yawning with boredom, the man scanned his screen telltales before taking another look at the empty desolation that spread out in front of his sentry post. That was the way he thought of himself, as a sentry. That was his duty, but others, more expert, would call him woefully unqualified for the post. He tended to rely too much on his electronics and not enough on his senses. The man didn't care much for trying to hear or see an intruder. That was what sensing screens were for, weren't they?

  More to have something to do than anything else, he picked up his distance lenses, stood up, and scanned the empty scrub brush on the opposing ridge some distance away. The morning had been quiet so far. Maybe he'd see an animal. At least that would be something.

  Flattened in the tan dust and rocks of that same ridge, Evan, Weykhaz and Grae watched the sentry through the scrub brush that screened them from his view. It had taken them the better part of an hour to crawl carefully to this point, always keeping the rising sun at their backs. Now Grae slowly raised his own distance lenses to study the sentry. "That's the third one," he said in a low voice that didn't carry more than a few feet.

  "Sure that's all?" Evan responded in a voice equally as quiet. He was using the distance adjustment on his spectacles to study the approaches to the man's location. The sentry was a careless idiot. Only a fool revealed his position by standing up in open terrain.

  Grae softly responded, "Yes.". Evan didn't answer. It wasn't necessary. He simply continued his study of the ridge.

  Weykhaz heard the commentary and filed it for hi
s own information. No reply was required of him either, so he simply lay there, still as a stone, and made his own detailed study of the hillside entrance to the smuggler's headquarters through distance lenses. Like the other two, he memorized every detail of the headquarters entrance, its guards and every reasonable approach. There would be no betraying clumsiness due to ignorance of the land tonight.

  The entrance to the smuggler headquarters was recessed into the side of a very large hill, about three quarters of the way up. In front of it was a small cup in the hillside that was closed on three sides, almost a courtyard. The only view into the cup was from the ridge on which they lay. Weykhaz noted a rough, zigzag route up to the cup from the lower valley, accessible by gort. It was the only trafficable stretch of ground, but showed no sign of ever being used. He decided that operated in their favor. If the smugglers came and went only by sled, they wouldn’t be too familiar with the surrounding terrain.

  A man accustomed to operating in rough country, Weykhaz knew just how easy it was to use the land to hide things from the air. Six people and their gorts, for instance. That might prove necessary when air traffic picked up this afternoon, since Locar's information said the smugglers were assembling tonight. He decided they would relocate as soon as possible to a site with overhead concealment. No need for some casual observer to spot them. Bad luck had ruined more than one well-constructed plan, including his.

  Moving only his eyes, Weykhaz took careful note of the screen readouts on the two small boxes placed diagonally in front of him. One was a scanner, telling him about activity on the opposing hillside. The other hid their presence from the smugglers' sensing screens. As long as the second box was operating, the smugglers' detection devices showed no activity anywhere in their range. Both miniature screens reported normal operation.