FRENCHY II : Having a Blast

by George Olney

  "You forget, child," a beaming Grete replied smugly, "you used the term to refer to yourself on several occasions. Intrigued, I queried my son for an explanation. It took a bit of doing, but he finally supplied the information I sought, providing further enlightenment on your past."

  Frenchy blushed slightly. "Grete, damn it, you're nosy."

  Nodding enthusiastically, Grete commented, "Of course! That is but one of my many charms."

  She assumed a mock-musing position, eyes thoughtfully in the distance and index finger supporting her chin. "While I am not the best of dancers - let alone in your league, daughter - the exercise of your art sounds interesting and its effect on the male intriguing. Perchance I may have you instruct me, that I may experiment on Weykhaz."

  "MOTHER-R-R!"

  Dallas grinned. "Grete, if she won't, I'll be glad to."

  "DALLAS!!!"

  After the general laughter, Dallas said with a grin, "Grete, I have no idea how the two of you managed it, but you're as about a well matched mother and daughter as I've ever seen. I like your sense of humor, too."

  "You would," Frenchy growled. She was utterly certain of one point. Neither Grete nor Dallas was kidding about the striptease experiment.

  Dallas smiled fondly at her friend. "You got lucky, babe, and I'm glad to see it."

  Frenchy nodded, after an affectionately irate look at her adoptive mother. "That's the truth, babe. But it's no more of a miracle than the two of us ending up out here together."

  "And how did that happen?" Grete asked.

  Alternating parts of the tale, Frenchy and Dallas filled in Grete on Dallas's capture and adventures since. From there, given that Grete pretty much knew everything about Frenchy's past, Dallas backtracked to their first meeting in a Lawton, Oklahoma, club where they were both working. "We were both pretty young, but we were real dancers, as opposed to the normal run of strippers, so it wasn't hard getting a job at the Clown's Den," Dallas said. "The problem was the pay wasn't all that good, since Oklahoma didn't allow tipping, and I needed a roommate. Frenchy offered to share, so we ended up together for about a year. After that, we worked together on the circuit as often as we could."

  She looked fondly at Frenchy. "She kept educating me about everything she would learn at the library during the day, and I generally kept her out of trouble."

  Frenchy grimaced. "Too bad we weren't together the last few years. Maybe things wouldn't have gotten so rough."

  Dallas shrugged. "Dunno. It was getting a bit hard for me, too, before I got busted and started my web site. That really let me turn things around."

  They were occupied for a bit explaining Earth's Internet and what web sites were to Grete, not to mention the concept of being busted by the local fuzz. Neither Dallas nor Frenchy made a point of explaining to Grete just what kind of web site Dallas had. By unspoken agreement, both women felt some things were better left unexplained, although, given Grete's lively and earthy outlook on life, it probably wouldn't have bothered her. In truth, Grete was very practical where survival was concerned.

  "Hm," Grete said, "Dallas, it appears you have an aptitude for business both my daughter and I lack. Such a skill could be put to good use here among the Tribes. I believe there to be opportunities ripe for an intelligent woman's grasp, can you but identify them."

  Dallas nodded thoughtfully. "You know, that was my idea, too. Thanks to the Arm, I have enough money to be okay for a while, but I really don't know what I want to do for a living. According to Frenchy, your Tribe does microelectronics and robotics and they aren't my cup of tea.

  "Also," she looked affectionately at the other two women, "now that I'm here, I think I'm going to like it. I don't want to try somewhere else."

  "Don't worry about that, babe," Frenchy said practically, "there's a lot more here than technical fabrication. Remember, this is an entire economy, not just one industry. Just stay cool and keep your eyes open. There'll be something come up."

  #####

  The guys were busy contemplating future plans as well. At the moment, Red was defending a last ditch position. "Hell, Grae, I'm old enough to take care of myself. I still don't see why I have to take along an escort," he said emphatically.

  Grae just shook his head resignedly. They'd been over this territory before, quite a number of times. "Red, if you're old enough to take care of yourself, you're old enough to follow the rules. I know all about your home world, but you're in a different place with different dangers. Lycanth is deadly enough to those born here, let alone visitors. Tribal rules are very specific on that point. If you want to work legally in the Mandate, you have to have an experienced guide. I'll try to find someone that knows what they are doing around excavations, but you need someone that knows the Barrens."

  Red snorted. "Great! Well, if they know what they are doing, I suppose I can't scream too loud. Just don't saddle me with some guy that wants to take off and try out his sword on everything that comes along,"

  Weykhaz interjected the mild voice of sweet reason. "Oh, it doesn't have to be a man. You can handle a bolt gun, can't you?"

  Red nodded, "Had to, back home."

  Weykhaz waved his hand negligently. "Well, it could just as easily be a woman. She could do the hunting with her spring rifle and tell you what to avoid. It isn't as though you'll be out there looking for trouble, you know."

  Red shrugged. "Guess not. The only thing I ask is that whoever it is have some training in archeology or anthropology. That'll help.

  "Besides, it'll give me someone to talk to that knows what I'm talking about."

  Grae nodded at that, and an idea began percolating in the back of his mind. He decided to save it and talk to Frenchy about it. If he knew his blonde bombshell, she'd love it.

  #####

  The next day, Frenchy got a chance to introduce Dallas to the Barrens. Frenchy loved the wild, open, semi-desert lands of Lycanth, and she very much wanted Dallas to grow to feel like she did. Of course, they were both on gorts and it was Dallas's first time on the enormous riding beasts that resembled a cross between a Spanish fighting bull and a unicorn, but Dallas got the hang of the gort's easy walking pace very quickly. Soon, they were both enjoying the ride.

  Both women were armed, Dallas with her bopper slung across her back in a holster like the one Frenchy was wearing. Frenchy also had her multi-bladed ax heads down in a holster at her hip, while Dallas wore Daddy's war club head up in a similar rig.

  Frenchy looked around at the sun-drenched barren pastels of the rocky land that now was both home and freedom to her, feeling the dry wind ruffle her hair. She was now legitimately freed of motherly duties for most of the day, enjoying the advantages of having her child in school.

  Nos was not happy, to say the least, when Grete informed him that he was going to be enrolled in school that morning, but his attitude took a quick one-eighty when he discovered that classroom work was only half of Tribal schooling. The other half was the skills deemed necessary for any Tribal youngster, including such subjects as shooting, survival, use of the sword, and gort handling. When Grete took him to register, he was in seventh heaven.

  Frenchy was protective of Nos and wasn't exactly thrilled about the boy learning sword play, but her common sense told her it would do him some good. If he hung around Lycanth much, it might become necessary. Best let him learn from experts. She was both practical and experienced enough that she knew there really were predators in the world. Even if she wasn't his real mother, she was responsible for him, and knew perfectly well she would never be able to protect him from everything. The best she could do would be to give him the ability to handle his own problems if that became necessary. Tribal training would do very nicely in that regard.

  Grete, Frenchy reflected, was having the time of her life grandmothering Nos. Weykhaz was calmly accepting his bondsmate's new role, mostly in the hope it would keep her out of worse mischief. It was beginning to look like Frenchy was going to have all the help she needed if she was going
to be raising an adolescent boy, a role she secretly hoped she would keep.

  "Well, babe," she commented to Dallas, "how do you like your new home?"

  Dallas waved her hand in an arc that encompassed the land around her. "Love it! It's wide open and free!

  "It's your home, too, isn't it, babe?"

  Frenchy nodded. "I like it out here. Even when I was with Grae on the ship, just after he kidnapped me and we were still sorting things out, I could tell he loved this land. At the time, I wanted to kill him and I wanted my freedom with a real ache, but I could still tell he loved this land. After I got here and spent a little time, I began to understand why. Now I love it too. It's big, beautiful, wild, and free. The Tribes say that, no matter if you're bound or not, if you're in the Barrens, you're free. It took me a while to understand that, but it's true."

  Dallas nodded. "I don't know if I could handle that 'bound' bit as well as you did."

  Frenchy snorted as Dallas continued her thought. "On the other hand, I don't begin to understand these people, yet. It's hard for me to understand someone like Justa, for instance. I swear, babe, she seems more determined to hold on to bondage to Grae than he is! You'd think she wants to be shed of him. He certainly doesn't care anything about her, other than taking care of her basic needs."

  Frenchy snorted again. "Getting shed of him is one thing she doesn't want, unless it's done the right way. Custom, babe. Like I told you, they all let Custom rule their lives. If Grae just let her go, she'd be dishonored and she'd kill herself. He has to find a way that will be allowed by Custom then she'll be happy."

  Frenchy made a wry face. "If we could find a man she fancied, Grae could give her to him. That would set my teeth on edge, but she'd go for it. It's the way they think. I still don't like it, but I've stopped butting my head against the wall on that score. We'll find a guy for her. Something will turn up in the Hold."

  Dallas got a faraway look on her face. "Find a guy... Me, too. You've got your man, babe. I think the next thing I need, now that I have a place for the future, is a man or two of my own. Never really settled on a guy back home. On the other hand, the thought of bedding down with one of those big leather clad lugs back in the Hold gives me a tingle. They're sexy."

  Frenchy grinned at her friend. "Put Grete to work on it. Better yet, Seventhnight is coming up. That's the last day of the week here and there's always a party with a big barbecue and stage dancing. That'll be a good time for us to start looking around."

  "Hmm," Dallas commented with a slow nod of her head, "stage dancing. Sounds interesting. Am I to take it you've been on that stage before? Especially since nearly everyone we meet asks you if you're going to be dancing on Seventhnight?"

  Frenchy flushed slightly. "I didn't know you were listening."

  "I'm just as nosy as Grete," Dallas laughed. "Anyhow, can I do it too? If I feel like it, that is."

  "You might, babe," Frenchy responded with another wry face. "You'd feel at home, too. The first time I did it, I was wearing zilch, just like in a club, because I was still bound to Grae. I didn't find out till later that everyone dances that way. It's kind of a tradition. You might have noticed that the Tribes are a little more casual about clothing than everyone else out here."

  Dallas grinned back at her. "Gee, just like home."

  Frenchy shook her head with a slight smile, entering into the spirit of Dallas's teasing. "Not really. It's real dancing, not the swing around a pole and wiggle stuff the girls do in a club. Pretty artistic, actually. I've done it a time or two since. It gives me the chance to dance in front of an audience, even if it is in just my skin. I guess the fact that nobody wears anything makes it a little easier. It's kind of fun, to be truthful, especially the fact that everyone is watching your dancing skill, not your butt."

  "They usually watch my tits more than my ass," Dallas gurgled around her laughter then she sobered up. "I know what you mean, though. I'd really like to dance in front of an audience, again. Real dancing.

  "You know," she mused, "I may just take you up on that invitation to dance. Let's see what happens."

  "Done," Frenchy agreed then continued firmly. "However, that only happens if I can find something for Mister Nos to be doing somewhere else. Neither one of us are going to skin down with that young man in the audience."

  Dallas was in complete agreement with the sentiment. Experience told her, however, that keeping active boys away from wherever Mom didn't want them to be wasn't always an entirely feasible proposition.

  Dallas made a face. "You know, babe, the only downside I can see is the competition. When I saw Justa, I didn't realize just how typical she was of tribal women. Sleek, arrogant, and feline pretty well sums it up. After getting a look at the women in the Hold, I have to say they're intimidating."

  Frenchy nodded. She remembered her own first look at tribal women. She had the same feeling, but she got over it fast. "Oh, they are all of everything you said, babe, but we can take 'em. For one thing, we're trained dancers and a good dancer has a lot of status in the tribes. After I danced that first time, I realized they were intimidated by me."

  She gave her friend a puckish grin. "Besides, you and I are considered exotic around here. You're eye catching, babe. No redheads here, among other things. Trust me, there are already a lot of jealous women in the Hold."

  Dallas's grin was evil. "Now I gotta dance. Can't let good jealousy go to waste."

  After a few minutes, a different thought occurred to Dallas. "Say, babe, about Grete... Why does she talk like that? Nobody else I've heard talks that way."

  Frenchy grinned again. "She does that on purpose. She says she speaks that way because she's damned independent and it reminds everyone of the fact. It also reminds her of who she is.

  "It's a direct translation into Rembaud of the way she learned to talk as a child," she continued a bit more seriously. "Remember I told you about the long lives people have? Us too, now? Well, Grete is from 17th century Germany. I guess that's the way Germans talked back then."

  Dallas's eyes got thoughtful. "Now that you mention it, you told me she was 400 years old. How in the world did she get here?"

  Frenchy made a wry face. "Weykhaz saved her life and took her the same way Grae took me then brought her back. She'll tell you that's one of the things that makes us so much alike."

  Frenchy got a faraway look on her face. "You saw the brand on her hip? Weykhaz wears a matching one on his wrist. Grae also has one under that leather strap he wears on his wrist, but his bondsmate is dead. Anyhow, that means Grete and Weykhaz are bonded. It's hard for anyone to understand if you aren't tribal. Took me a long time, anyhow. It's pretty rare, babe, and a bonded pair is very special. If a man and woman are bonded that means that they are so closely joined that there's a piece of them in each other's mind as a very real distinct entity. Each one knows what the other one is thinking about something, among other things. There's a lot to it I can't explain easily."

  Dallas thought about that for a moment. "A bonded couple are as close as two people can get, aren't they? Almost like one person. You're right. That's special. I don't know if I could ever be that way."

  Frenchy nodded, equally thoughtfully. "Yep. Sometimes I wonder if I could ever be that way with Grae. It's scary."

  She didn't explain that a bonded couple were almost never separated very long by death and that the surviving member always committed suicide. Yelen, Grae's bondsmate, was still with them even though her body was now dead. Could she bond with Grae like Yelen did? Nobody had ever bonded twice. Ever. It was unknown territory and the idea frightened her. It frightened him a little, too.

  Deep inside her mind, she could feel Yelen telling her that she was already well along that route and not to be afraid. Bonding was something wonderful. Frenchy gave it a few more minutes thought then let the idea go. Yelen was right. The idea of her bonding with Grae wasn't really frightening in the least. Time would tell. Let what was going to come, come.

  While they were
talking, Frenchy was looking around the landscape, something that was second nature to anyone trained to live in the Barrens. In this case, however, she wasn't checking her route or looking for any of the wide variety of Lycanthi wildlife that hoped to dine on humans. Said wildlife was generally an after-dark proposition, but it always paid to know what flew, walked, or slithered in one's vicinity.

  Instead, she was looking for a specific terrain feature and she stopped her gort close to it when she saw it. She pointed at two large boulders on a small rise not too far away. "See those rocks, babe? We're going to try out our boppers. You need to see one in action and I want to see how the chokes work."

  Dallas nodded and both women reached over their shoulders to pull the short energy guns from holsters strapped to their backs. The guns no longer had plain barrels. There were now rings mounted around the muzzle crowns that had a knurled band with the numbers 0 to 6 printed on it, intended to line up with a vertical line engraved on the barrel. Frenchy continued, "Babe, you set yours to zero and fire on the left hand rock. I want you to see what the thing will do at full spread."

  Twisting the muzzle ring on her own bopper, Frenchy added, "I'll set mine to 6, full choke, and use the right hand rock. Don't bother to dismount or take careful aim. Just stay in the saddle and shoot from the hip. It won't bother the gort. I've done it a couple of times and never had a problem."

  Dallas looked dubiously at her friend. Just because Frenchy had never had a problem didn't mean there wasn't going to be one. Still, she decided to follow instructions and pray. Holding her bopper at her hip, she swung her body toward the rock and let fly as soon as the weapon's alignment felt right.

  THUMP.

  True to Frenchy's assurances, the gort didn't move. The rock did. In fact, it dissolved and fragments sailed off in a number of directions, the largest fragment of which was about the size of Dallas's head. Considering that the original landscape feature was bigger than Dallas plus gort, she felt the performance was impressive. "Wow!"