by George Olney
"You won't go back, son," Grae said. "We aren't going to send you away, ever again. The school we want to send you to is right here on Lycanth and it's a Tribal school, in a Hold just like this one.
"You'll continue here until the end of the school term," he added. "Then you'll go off to business school to finish what you need to learn. But don't forget, this is your home now. We'll be here when school's not in session. Besides, I need to keep up your training in unarmed combat."
That did the trick.
The next get-together - given the participants, it was too informal to be called a meeting - happened a few hours later. Grae and Weykhaz wanted to talk to Red. They also had Justa there, for reasons which, unknown to her, made perfect sense. This was a discussion about a trip in someone else's immediate future.
"Red," Grae began, "I've been looking at the map of the places you want to investigate and there are a couple here in our lands. If you limit your first jaunt to Kwa'kanni land, I think you'll be reasonably safe as long as you have someone with you that knows the Barrens."
By now, Red was resigned to toting along a spare. "If I gotta do it, I gotta do it." He grinned. "I still say they're unnecessary."
Weykhaz shook his head. "No. There's too much about Lycanth you don't know, or just know from chips. I'm not as worried about you as I could be, but you need someone with you that reacts immediately because they grew up here and will recognize a threat the instant it appears. And know what to do about it too."
Histrionic sigh followed by a grin on Red's part. "Okay. Who've you got in mind?"
Grae dropped his bomb. "Justa."
Justa's eyes popped wide and her mouth dropped in shock. "Me?" she squeaked.
Red also showed shocked surprise. "Her?" he didn't squeak.
Grae nodded. While Justa was still in shock, he added firmly, "I'm telling you to do it, Justa, not asking."
She shut her mouth with a snap. She was in bondage to Grae. Custom said she had to do what he told her as long as it was within reasonable bounds. Looking hard at Red, she wasn't entirely sure Grae's order was reasonable, but she decided she'd give it a shot. "Okay," she said grimly.
Red was still a bit shocked. "Her?" he repeated.
Before Justa could explode, Grae broke in. "First, Red, she's tribal. She knows Lycanth on an instinctive level, including the dangers and she's a survivor. Like I said, there's a world of difference between academic knowledge and cultural incorporation of the same information. To put it bluntly, she'd react. You'd have to think.
"I happen to know a good bit about your home word, Red," Grae continued. "You know what I'm talking about."
Settling back with a thoughtful look on his face, Red nodded. He did know what Grae was talking about. He gave Justa another look, but this one was thoughtful, not surprised.
Justa was also eyeing Red, belly, rough work clothes, shaggy beard and hair, Old West prospector persona, and all. It was plain she wasn't impressed.
Grae was satisfied with Red's reaction. Now for Justa. "Justa, you're a Scholar of Anthropology. That will be a big help, but you need to know just who you're dealing with, young lady. Red's real name is Bobdino. He's also a Senior Master Scholar. Just a bit more academically qualified than you. In fact, I'm pretty sure you used his Survey of Early Prehistoric Galactic Cultures as one of your text books."
A very shocked Justa nodded absently as she looked at Red. Grae was right; Survey was one of the basic texts in both the Anthropology and Archeology degree programs. All of a sudden, she felt unsure of herself again.
Still, she knew Lycanth and this guy didn't. That put her back on an even footing with Red, even if he was one of the major figures in her academic world. So, okay, the subject of Red's project was interesting, even if baby-sitting him so he could do it was going to be a pain. Maybe not. This just might turn out not to be a waste of her time. She wondered if she was going to get credit in the resulting paper. Best work on that - and she had to be with him to work on getting credit.
She gave Red a grade B+ smile.
Red smiled back and reached over. "Shake on it?"
Justa did.
#####
Some goodly distance from the Yellow Knife Freehold, an encounter was taking place as a result of the Arm's antislavery campaign.
The young woman (Maev, by name) carefully concealed in the rocks was tribal, from her gracefully sleek and curvy build to the leathers she wore. Her slightly dusty hair - brown, like most Lycanthi in this part of the planet - was worn shorter than was usual, teased up into a sort of exaggerated flat top. There was also a spring rifle in her right hand. She was using a very small gap in the two rocks hiding her to study the party camping in the little blind valley below, not more than fifty or so yards away.
The four men moving around the campsite were also tribal, but bore no visible tribe markings. She didn't expect any. There were two women sitting together somewhat away from the campfire, both nude and wearing the name pendants that indicated they were in bondage to men in the group. That was something the woman also expected.
Those were the two girls the Edisto Tribe was missing, Maev thought. She'd started tracking them after she got her tasking from the Head Office. Now it appeared she'd found them, and in pretty much the situation she'd expected.
After a short stint of bondage, first to Grae (wonderful), then to Frenchy (best not think about that, she still didn't want to explain it), then to Evan, the man she'd recently married (far more wonderful), she was back as an active agent for the Enforcement Arm. Her first mission on returning was female slavery suppression, something she was now as enthusiastic about as Frenchy. It looked like she'd just found her first slavers. The girls knew exactly what was happening, but they were quiet and submissive. Obviously, none of the men had said or done anything to give the women Cause, otherwise there would have been blood on the ground somewhere.
Slavers were very good about following Custom. Right up until they sold the women to Galactic buyers.
On the other hand, Maev knew something the men below her didn't. The Edisto folks had declared any intention of woman selling to be Cause. If she could get one of those characters in the camp below her to say the wrong thing, she had two new allies. That could make things interesting. On the other hand, she wasn't out here alone, which definitely would make things even more interesting.
Well, let's see what happened.
Silently, she carefully and slowly slid back from her vantage point and made her way to her gort. Once mounted, she rode casually towards the camp, making no effort to disguise her approach.
As her gort walked around the edge of the little valley wall, Maev got another good look at the camp. Of course, they also got their first look at her, but that was okay.
The four men were standing, studying her carefully but not obviously, the same way she was studying them. Nobody's hand was on a gun, especially the bolt guns holstered at everyone's waist. Three of the four were, from their appearance, from around this general area. The fourth, long untidy blond hair spilling out from under his wide brimmed hat, had slanted eyes and a darker skin tone than was normal on this continent. She recognized the type, common on Big Island in the southern hemisphere and half of Lycanth away. Interesting. Wonder how he happened to be in this bunch of human dregs? Maybe she'd get his story later.
Meanwhile, everyone was smiling. Of course. Friends all around. "Hello, the camp," she called.
"Hello, the rider." Customary reply. "Come in and take a seat."
There was a double edge here. That was the usual invitation when a rider entered a camp area. On the other hand, she was a woman, apparently alone, and her spring rifle was now in its saddle scabbard. She was wearing a bolt pistol, but tribal women weren't as expert with one of those as they were with their rifles. Present company excepted, she thought. Pity the slavers didn't know that.
The blond was a little more suspicious, or a little smarter. He was edging closer to some large rocks on the far sid
e of the camp site. Ideal position to keep the whole situation under surveillance and let him have a clear shot if something happened. Something did happen. Someone rose silently and swiftly from behind those same rocks. There was a flash of movement then both figures slid behind the rocks. Quietly.
Maev told herself that if she was going to pursue her career in the Arm it helped to have a new husband that was a veteran of the finest special operations force the Federation had ever produced. Fun guy, too. She smiled at the thought.
She directed her smile at the remaining three. "No thanks. Don't need a seat. I think I'm about in the right spot." Casually reaching into her belt pouch, she took out her Arm badge and put it over her left breast. The badge's tiny grab field held it to the leather securely. "Enforcement Arm. I've been looking for you boys and now I've found you. You're under arrest. Now, drop your guns and come along quietly."
Apparently, the three didn't feel like coming along, quietly or not quietly. They grabbed for their pistols.
Maev's draw was much, much faster. She shot one before he'd cleared leather. A loud C-R-R-K was the sound of a short burst from the stutter gun that took down the second. The third slaver was slower on the draw but faster on the uptake. That saved his life. He looked at the muzzle pointed at him in Maev's rock steady hand, then slowly turned to see the unlikely figure in the rocks behind him with a stutter gun pointing in his direction. He slowly and carefully put his hands behind his head.
"That'll do, bozo," Maev said sweetly. "Twitch and you'll be in pieces. That's my husband there. He doesn't like slavers any more than I do." She ignored the scowls from the two girls when she finally let the word "slaver" out into the camp's air. The guy was going to be very good from here on in. If she didn't kill him or take him into custody, they'd do the killing. Slowly. Slaving was now against Custom for the Edistos and that was Cause. Custom was wonderful sometimes.
The man with the stutter gun, Evan Calos by name, saw everything was now placid and peaceful, so walked casually around the rocks in front of him. His muzzle was also rock steady on the captured slaver. Evan was from the Port and looked nothing like a tribesman. Tall and lanky, with sandy hair, beard, and spectacles, he was sartorially splendid in scruffy khaki shirt and shorts with really beat up hiking boots. He was a sculptor on most occasions and generally gave the impression of an air head. He was also a former Troop Sergeant Major in the Imjin Scouts, quite experienced in sneaking around, precisely targeted mayhem, skullduggery, and - among other things - silent sentry removal. Handy husband if the wife was an Enforcer.
"How many do we have?" Maev asked him.
"Oh," Evan answered as he disarmed the slaver without ever getting in his wife's line of fire, "this one and the sleeper in the rocks. Two ought to do it for this mission, don't you think?"
Maev nodded with a grim smile at her captive. "Works for me. I'll call in and get them on their way to Interrogation. They ought to know something we can use."
Her grim smile turned into a piercing glare that made the slaver want to step back, not that he would with Evan close by. "I think they'd better."
#####
Frenchy had some thinking to do.
When they'd set up permanent housekeeping in the Hold, a new apartment was dug out of the rock for them, not a problem with robotic mining equipment. Because it was new, Frenchy was able to add a few design touches from places she'd always admired on Earth. One such touch, for instance, was an open floor plan with a large main living area. The normal tribal apartment used smaller separate rooms with distinct purposes, but Grete pronounced her approval of the layout when she saw the plan and realized the logic.
The other Earth style touch to the apartment was also something Frenchy admired but never hoped to have in her wildest dreams: a large master bedroom with a really nice master bath. The shower was big enough for two, which was a lot of fun on occasion. There was also a big jetted tub that had room enough for four or a highly active couple on other occasions. The tub was fun whenever she shared it with her big guy. However, Frenchy wanted the tub for more than cleanliness and recreation. She wanted it for a reason she'd read about and seen on TV but only enjoyed in her old life during a short stint as Las Vegas arm candy: relaxation. She'd discovered the tub was a good place to think things through and she needed that right now.
Nos was in school. Grae was off attending to Red as well as various aspects of the antislavery mission. Dallas was likewise off making herself and Jongular rich. No major tasks loomed. Ergo, Frenchy had some down time. Wonderful.
Standing nude before the mirror, Frenchy put up her hair as the tub filled. Hair done, she took a moment to study herself, and was generally satisfied with the results. Oh, no normal woman was ever totally satisfied with her body, but Frenchy told herself she was looking pretty good, especially for a girl that was fast approaching the once disastrous age of forty. Taut muscles, smooth lustrous skin, and great curves that always got her husband's motor running. In all, pretty decent if she did say so herself.
Tub full, she climbed in, positioned a waterproof pillow behind her head and lay back. One languid hand pushed the button to start the water jets on low. Federation Enforcement Arm Agent Frenchy, Bane of Bad Guys, Basher of Monsters, designated mother of a twelve year old boy, dancer, and Galactic sexpot, was now going to take some time and do a little quiet meditation. For a variety of reasons, she hadn't had the chance to do any serious thinking lately and it was past time to do some catching up with things. Now that it was quiet, she could feel Yelen in the back of her mind, joining her to examine the situation.
Closing her eyes, Frenchy started down a mental list of various key persons and activities in her life.
Grae. Without even trying, she knew where he was and what he was doing. She was also aware he knew the same about her. They even replied to each other's unspoken comments these days. Were they developing the closeness that resulted in Tribal bonding? Yelen was certain of the fact and looking forward to that closeness blossoming into a formal bonding. The idea still scared Frenchy a little.
It scared Grae to a degree, too. Bonding was uncommon, but there were normally at least one or two bonded couples in every Tribe. That still made it very rare among the population as a whole. If Grae bonded with her that meant he was bonding with someone twice, something totally unprecedented and part of what scared him. Yelen was sure it was happening partly because of Frenchy's psi abilities and partly because of her own presence. Then there was the fact that she and Grae really were that close.
Now that was a helluva thing for an ex-stripper, love and a stable home life with a really good guy. Thinking a little more, Frenchy felt her own anxiety start to fade. Yelen was right. Bonding could be a very good thing for all three of them. A very good thing.
Nos. Legally, she supposed, the boy was her ward. She specifically avoided the term "foster child". She'd grown up a foster child, and hated every moment of it. No way was she going to apply the label to any child she was raising. He'd made it clear he accepted her as his new mother and Grae as his new father. They considered him their child in all but legal name. What was he really? And what could she do about it?
Yelen was reminding her of something. Frenchy's contact with the sister that lived in her and Grae's mind wasn't anything as elaborate as speech, but it was a very definite communication. The question here was what Yelen knew that she herself was overlooking. Bonding, or Nos? No, nothing to do with bonding. Nos's status?
Then it hit her. Her eyes flashed wide and she sat up abruptly in surprise. Once again, she'd forgotten some of the implications of Tribal culture. Thinking back to the meeting over Nos's schooling, she remembered something. She'd told the boy that, as far as she was concerned, she and Grae were his parents now and not a single adult in the room batted an eye. Every one of them was tribal. In tribal terms, she'd formally adopted Nos right there and then.
To the Tribes, just a simple statement made something a fact in cases like this. There was no
ceremony or legal folderol, just the statement. Ergo, Nos was now their son and heir. Done deal. She relaxed again to mull that one over.
Back when she'd first met Grae's mother, Grete had adopted her the same way, simply by making a statement. The adoption hadn't changed some things in tribal eyes - she and Grae weren't living in incest, for instance - but she was Grete's legal heir from that minute onward and a member of the Yellow Knife Tribe. Both were extremely important.
Grae was very much in favor of Nos's adoption. Grete and Weykhaz, too. Nos was now the son of Frenchy and Grae under Tribal Custom, which was legally recognized by Federal law. The kid now had another permanent family and she'd better explain that to him more clearly.
It wasn't obvious, but the Tribes were very careful about how they said some things. That was a trait it took her a while to realize about Grae, among others, but she should have remembered it. Her proclamation to Nos was impulsive, words to make a very upset boy feel better, but it was as good as a formal court action. The Tribes didn't say things like that off the cuff and she better remember it in the future. She was also going to be a lot more careful about what she said from here on in.
The adoption would create a little shock for Locar, not to mention some problems down the road with corporate types, lawyers, and Nos's remaining natural family. Locar would adjust, since the adoption would actually help the Arm's plans for the boy. The rest of the cast of characters - lawyers and such - was of supreme unimportance to her. They could argue with Grae and the Tribes if they wanted, but Frenchy was certain who was going to win the tussle.
With that satisfactory thought, she lay back again and closed her eyes.
Female slavery. That was a problem with too many aspects for a simple solution. The Arm was finally taking decisive action against slavers here on Lycanth, but it needed more support from the Tribes. Lycanth was the primary source of female slaves and where the whole infernally damned thing got started, but it was still just one part of the problem. There were plenty of Lycanthi girls that were slaves out there in the Federation and something had to be done about them. Galactic girls like Dallas and Fuzzy, too, but those were already illegal. The Arm and other law enforcement agencies would take action whenever any illegal slaves came to their notice. That still left tribal girls. Given their ingrained beliefs, they were actually locking themselves in as slaves until some outside authority changed things - and it had to be a tribal authority.