by George Olney
After stowing their slacksuits, neither Grae nor Frenchy had bothered to dress. Coming to the attack on the pirate ship straight from bed, both started the fight in the nude and now, with the post-fight letdown, were still in the same state. Justa was, as usual, wearing her miaso and a calm expression. Dallas, wearing a pair of jeans cut off to short-shorts level and a T-shirt tied beneath her substantial breasts, constituted the only member of the original passenger/crew list more-or-less formally dressed. All were collapsed in varying degrees of relaxation waiting for Grae, fresh from scanning what the ship's computer had taken from the pirate's data banks, to explain this latest mess - not to mention ID the kid.
Taking a sip from the glass Frenchy handed him, Grae began. "Well," he said, "they weren't exactly pirates, except between contracts. Their attempted capture of Fra Bobdino's ship was simply an attempt at picking up a little extra booty after finishing a job."
" Bobdino?" Frenchy asked. "Is that who he is?"
Grae grinned. "He said to call him Red."
Mentally picturing the man that looked so much like an Old West prospector, Frenchy returned the grin. "Somehow, that figures."
Grae added, "He said he'll follow us to Lycanth. He has some work to do in the Barrens."
"Somehow, that also figures."
Grae's face dropped the smile and grew grim. "The pirates' job was to capture the Jona-Savonia space yacht, eliminate the parents along with the crew and any evidence, and capture the boy. That's what they did several weeks back.
"The reason the parents were targeted was that corporations controlled by the Jona-Savonia family are among the largest in this galactic quadrant. All of the family has big money, but the boy's parents were the principal corporate stockholders, which made them he richest and most powerful people in a very rich and powerful family.
"His name, by the way, is Jona-Nos-Savonia. Nos is the name the boy goes by under their naming conventions. Now that his parents are dead, Nos becomes the heir to all of their holdings. That boy is now one of the richest and, measured by his corporate control, one of the most powerful people in this quadrant. And he's a minor that some bastard wants under his thumb."
Frenchy snarled at the thought of the helpless child in back being orphaned by the murderous scum they'd just exterminated. And the SOB that ordered it.
Dallas's voice was flat and hard as she summed it up. "Those pirates killed that boy's parents and kidnapped him... just for money."
Grae nodded, his face back in the iron set that told anyone that knew him he was killing mad. "Yes," he said. "They were acting under orders from someone. I don't know who, yet. Some member of the family or person in the corporate hierarchy wanted total control and Nos was their way to get it."
He gave a grim little smile. "I'm declaring this an Arm case. It would be anyway, because of the size and power of the corporations involved, but it's personal, as of now. I want whoever it was that spawned this plot. With what we got from the computers, I'm reasonably sure the Arm will find out who it is. When we do, mistress, you and I are going to collect the bastards."
Frenchy snarled back, "Damn right!"
Absently, she rubbed her hand along her thigh, thinking of the bastard low-rent scum that had orphaned poor Nos, the bastard low-rent scum that had paid to have it done, and the state the boy was probably in, given what had just happened to him. Assholes! This was worse than anything that had ever happened to her. Sure, her birth mother wasn't worth much and she'd never had a father, but at least her mother was there for a while. Her mother was no good, but Frenchy had never wanted her dead.
She thought for a moment, wondering what it was like growing up rich. Like the movies, she decided. There were two possibilities. Either the boy was the spoiled son of arrogant rich people, or his parents were okay. If his folks were halfway decent, then their kid ought to be worth having around.
Good or bad, this boy was suddenly without a mother and father. Frenchy decided she was going to have to do the job, at least until he was sent back to where he belonged, if it was safe to send him back. With the asshole that ordered the hit running around loose, Nos probably needed to stay with them until the bastard was located and persuaded of the error of his ways. Terminally.
That kid needed a mother. It looked like she was elected, at least for a while. That started her thinking like a Mommy. It also caused her psi to call up a Mommy persona from TV and the movies and adopt it. Ergo, she then realized something that would ordinarily be unremarkable. The aforesaid Major Revelation leaped out of hiding and waved its scrawny little hairy arms in her face. Grae wasn't wearing anything. Justa wasn't wearing anything, but, since nothing could be done about it, that didn't count. She, Frenchy, was buck-assed naked. And she now had what looked like a ten or twelve year old boy to mother. Mothers didn't wander around nude in front of the kids.
Rising swiftly from her chair, she grabbed a startled Dallas by one hand and an equally startled Grae by the other. "Guys," she said brusquely, "come to the back with me. I have to explain the ship's new dress code."
Once they were in Frenchy and Grae's sleeping compartment and the Major Revelation had been explained, Dallas understood immediately. Grae, thankfully, was amused but willing to cooperate. Frenchy decided, once again, she'd picked the right guy. "Mistress," was his first smiling comment, "you're always trying to make me wear clothes whenever something unusual happens."
Dallas was a bit more emphatic. "Comfort and custom or not, Grae, where Frenchy and I come from, it's just not right for grown women to walk around undressed in front of boys his age!"
Grae was mildly amused, but at the situation, not the women's attitudes. Even though his time on earth had exposed him to strippers, to tease Frenchy and Dallas about public nudity in this instance would be a wrongness. He felt their attitude was the right one within their own moral framework and reflected favorably on them. In reality, he never expected anything less of Frenchy and it was gratifying to find her friend showing just as much concern over the boy's wellbeing. Besides, Custom did decree something about clothing and boys Nos's age, if not exactly what the two thought. Best bring up that point now.
"Actually, girls," he said, "wearing, or not wearing, something is perfectly normal, you both know that, and Justa isn't about to put on anything, in any case."
He waved down their protests. "No, I agree with you. If you feel it would be a wrongness to appear without garments in front of him, that's something I respect. It's not our way, but it's yours. On the other hand, he needs to have clothing, too. Custom is that adults and small children may wear, or not, what they want, but youngsters of his age and older are required to at least don breeches until they are old enough to control themselves."
Frenchy looked puzzled, but Dallas, who had far more experience with very young men, A.K.A. kid brothers, saw his point. "Oh, I understand."
Dallas looked at her friend. "At that age, the equipment is just starting to work, but he's still learning to use it."
Grae smiled, but his explanation was slightly more to the point. "Breeches for boys until they are past the stage of uncontrolled erections. It keeps them from embarrassment and helps them learn discipline."
The light dawned for Frenchy. "Oh. Oh, yes, especially with Justa around."
Dallas gave her a significant look. "Especially with Justa around."
Grae smiled at the expressions on their faces. "It's not just the boys that have to meet that stricture, ladies. All tribal adolescents are required to wear leathers until their late teens. Puberty is rough on any human. No sense making it rougher."
Frenchy nodded. "True, and that's a good custom for us to follow, as long as we follow our own, also."
She paused thoughtfully. "What bothers me is, here's a kid just about to enter the roughest emotional period of his life, suddenly rich as Bill Gates, and he's just as suddenly become an orphan.
"Damn.
"You know..." she said as she faced Grae squarely.
He put a gentle finger on her lips to stop her sentence. "Yes, mistress, I do know. When he wakes, he'll need someone to be a parent, and you want that one to be you. Go ahead. I'll do all I can to help you. Later, when we get to Lycanth and arrange a permanent future for him, I don't know what will happen. Right now, I do know what you want to do is a rightness."
"Oh, Grae!" she said, falling into his arms in a mutual embrace. Dallas watched through eyes getting just a little blurry, smiling for all she was worth.
Sometime later, the storm broke.
The adults were gathered in the wardroom, discussing Nos, his future and what to do about him. Frenchy shot out of her seat when she heard the shriek from the back of the ship, but froze at the sound of feet, running up the passageway. Nos stopped at the entrance to the wardroom, looking wildly at all four adults, his agonized face wet with tears. "They killed Mama and Dad!"
Suddenly, probably because of what he'd been through, Nos was back to childhood.
Frenchy held out her arms to the boy. "Oh, honey, come here."
The boy shot into her arms and both fell back into Frenchy's chair. She held him as sobs of pain and anguish racked his thin frame. She cuddled his head to her chest and made soothing sounds, stroking him and trying to settle him down. Finally, Nos began to quiet, nestling tighter into the woman's arms. Frenchy looked around at the other three. "Dallas, Justa, you may as well turn in. I think this is going to take a while. Grae, would you stay with me? Please? I may need some help."
Grae nodded silently and came to sit on the arm of her chair as the other two women filed silently out. The look Dallas gave Frenchy was both sympathetic and supportive. She had a friend if she needed one. Justa's look was more complex. There was sympathy there, too. But it was mixed with curiosity, concern, and, at the bottom, a touch of envy.
When Nos awoke the next morning, he was back in the medical compartment bunk. Last night was a blur, but he had the vague feeling things had taken a turn for the better. A philosophical soul of the right age may have pondered on the incredible ups and downs of the last brief span of personal time then declared this to be the first day of the rest of his life. On the one hand, Nos was not of the right age. On the other hand, he may not have done so, anyway. What he decided he was, after due rumination, was hungry. This, in its way, precipitated what turned out to be the first day of the rest of his life.
Suiting action to thought, he crawled out of the bunk and headed off to remedy the hunger pangs in the way he was accustomed to use. As chance would have it, the first person he met in the passageway was Frenchy, on her way to check on her new stray. "I'm hungry," he announced peremptorily. "Get me some food."
Nos suddenly found himself face to face with Female Authority. The tall blonde looked at him in irritation, showing all the pragmatic, practical hardheadedness of an experienced mother of an adolescent boy. To Nos's instinct, if not his consciousness, she was a Mommy. Instinct said forget about it. Any contemplated battles were lost before they were even fought.
Nos found himself firmly marched back into the medical compartment, where he was thoroughly and with mild heat instructed on: 1. courtesy to his elders, defined as anyone on board the ship and others to be designated by the Mommy, 2. the fact that he was not a young prince in the estimation of the Mommy, and 3. he was now under new management by the Mommy and would behave himself as a young gentleman henceforth. Looking warily at the aforesaid new management, Nos recognized a superior force and resigned himself to complying with the new management's directives. He also remembered warm arms, a soft lap and a tender voice when he needed them most. Deep inside, instinct told him he was getting what he had to have right now, a Mommy, and to make the best of the situation. Sighing, he complied with instinct and, very contritely, said, "Yes, Lady."
"And?" Frenchy's stern look and voice told the boy what she wanted to hear.
"May I please have some breakfast?"
With that, she took him back into the galley and proceeded to set enough food in front of him to ensure he understood his time of living on scraps was over. He also realized he was not only a hungry young man, but a very hungry young man.
Frenchy, for her part, was in full Mommy mode and concerned Nos was far too skinny. She had every intention of remedying that condition.
#####
Over the next several ship's days, Nos became steadily more accepting of his sudden change of fortune. He still missed his real parents, missed them terribly. Both Frenchy and Grae understood his feelings and offered needed comfort when the pain of loss got too bad. Now, though, he had a new and beautiful Mama, and someone he was steadily coming to regard as a pretty good Dad. Truth be known, he had a bad case of hero worship where Grae was concerned.
The dismal time as a captive on the pirate ship had blunted the edge of grief about his parents. He was still too young to consciously worry much about personal survival while a captive, although instinct was highly concerned. For the first time since the yacht was taken, instinct felt safe. Nos couldn't have named the reason for his feeling of security, but there it was. Along with his new feeling of security, the natural energy and curiosity of a healthy boy began to make themselves evident.
While he was on his parents' yacht the crew tended to treat him as an uncomfortable irritant. His parents didn't know anything about star ships and didn't care, either. Ergo, he was encouraged to maintain his distance from the hired help that drove his conveyance and the hired help concurred. Grae, on the other hand, didn't mind questions and took the time to give answers Nos could understand, thus feeding the carefully hidden star ship mania his real parents never knew he had. Positive responses about the ship also encouraged him to begin finding out anything about anything. Nos didn't realize it, but, for the first time in his life, he was being allowed to be a normal boy.
In addition, his interaction with all the adults was helping him to give an identity to everyone in his new world. Grae and Frenchy, of course, were firmly identified as Dad and Mama. Justa was the lordly big sister. There was nothing special about her constant state of undress, even if it did help a few secret fantasies. Dallas slotted in nicely as the Aunt, although there were also a few fantasies about her, since every boy has fantasies about the really sexy and grown up aunt in the family. Here he was, free to explore a real star ship, loaded with beautiful women and a real life heroic figure. Nos decided he was in paradise.
Curiously following the sound of music to the gym one "morning", Nos found Frenchy and Dallas exercising with what, to him, were very strange and athletic movements. Never having seen dancers work out before, he was totally unaware of what he was watching, but decided he enjoyed it.
The exercises were something Frenchy began on this same ship after being taken by Grae, both to regain her form and as a reaffirmation of herself as a professional dancer. After the first day of this trip, Dallas had naturally joined her friend, for pretty much the same reasons. The singlets both women were wearing, on the other hand, were a relatively new addition, caused by Nos's presence. Although the singlets resembled normal dancer's workout and rehearsal garb, they were actually the result of one of Frenchy's experiments. The women normally didn't bother wearing anything for workouts, given Galactic and tribal attitudes. With Nos around, however, that was not an option. Frenchy hit on the expedient of having the ship's materials fabricator make several duplicates of her tribal leathers in a lycra-like material. The result, as worn by Frenchy and Dallas, would have stood muster at any cattle call in Las Vegas.
She noticed him standing in the hatchway. "Frenchy, what are you doing?" he asked.
"We're exercising, honey. Dallas and I do this every day."
"Can I come in and watch?"
"Sure, honey," she said between leg swings. "Just sit over there out of the way."
Finding the indicated spot, Nos slid down to sit on the floor, his back propped against the wall. He considered himself perfectly comfortable, the exercises - not to mention the women engaged in them
- interesting and, all in all, the perfect situation for a little philosophical cogitation.
First there was Frenchy. Although both women were blonde, there the resemblance between new and old Mamas ended. His real Mama was smaller and more slender. With all the worldly experience of his twelve years, he also felt she was less practical than Frenchy, and much more chirpy. Frenchy was no-nonsense, but warm when he needed it. All-in-all, a pretty good person to have around when a guy needed a mother. He decided he still loved and missed Mama very much, but Frenchy was a good substitute.
His real Dad was smaller than Grae, but seemed much more aggressive and driven. Oh, he tried to do father things, but business always came first. Still, Grae was a real Hero, just like on the holo-vid. After hearing the tale of Grae killing the lee'thal whose huge wing adorned the wardroom, the man escalated to mythical heights in Nos's estimation. Dad talked a lot about business, but he never killed monsters. Nos could imagine no finer future than to grow up to be just like Grae.
He was even dressed like him. Frenchy had immediately decreed the end of the ragged coverall worn during his captivity on the pirate ship. Instead, she had the materials fabricator make duplicates of Grae's leather breeches and vest, shrunken to Nos's size, plus underwear. The boy was thoroughly delighted with the change in apparel.
He didn't know much about Dallas, but what he knew he liked. She was only a little taller than he was, smiled a lot, and, boy, she was beautiful! He liked to daydream about her. Watching her exercise was almost like one of his daydreams.
Watching Frenchy was just as exciting, but he had reservations. He wasn't really sure he ought to be thinking about her like that, since she was his new mother. Nope, Dallas was much better, he decided firmly. A mother was in no sense related to sex. Mothers weren't women, not in that regard. Dallas, on the other hand, was fair game. He settled back happily to watch her and do a little daydreaming.