FRENCHY II : Having a Blast

by George Olney

  Frenchy hated the idea of slavery with every fiber of her being. She was going to kill it one of these days. How? Perversion of Custom had allowed Galactics to create slavery in the first place. Custom had to be changed, or at least tweaked, to fully destroy it here. She had to change Custom. She had done it when she convinced Grete and Weykhaz to help her stop Grae from committing suicide. That was three people. What about an entire world?

  So what about it? She was going to change Custom and kill slavery. She was determined to do it. The Tribes had better resign themselves to the fact.

  She smiled, sighed, and relaxed against her pillow. Good enough. Now to let the water jets do their work

  Chapter 10

  Justa was back in her room in Frenchy and Grae's apartment, deciding what she needed to pack for Red's expedition. Clothing wasn't an issue, since she was in bondage to Grae. Some small personal items she was sure to need on a long trip into the Barrens. She needed weapons, although she was still a bit iffy about those since girls in bondage normally didn't carry them. On the other hand, Frenchy had already convinced her they were permitted in her case and being able to use a rifle or pistol was the main reason she was along on this expedition. Besides, she really wanted to go. This trip was going to be interesting, not to mention career enhancing.

  Whenever she got back to having a career.

  There was a knock at her open doorway. "Mind if I come in?" It was Frenchy.

  "Okay."

  When Frenchy entered, she was carrying a package. "We need to have a chat, young lady," she said mildly but firmly, seating herself on a chair. "Something we need to get clear before you romp off on a jaunt with Red."

  Uh-oh. What was Frenchy up to? She had to listen to and obey Grae, since he was her master. She listened to and obeyed Frenchy because a) Frenchy had very high status in the Tribes, being a Valued Woman and champion dancer, and b) Frenchy would whip her tail if she gave the big blonde any back chat. Besides, Frenchy was actually a pretty understanding and compassionate person. Justa had to admit she liked her. Best listen.

  Justa sat on the bed, prepared to listen.

  "I got to thinking," Frenchy said. "You're going on an archeological dig. I've never been on one, or even seen one except on TV - holo-vid, to you - but something I do know is that they get dirty, messy, and uncomfortable. That's hard on bare skin, girl."

  She tapped the package in her lap. "That's why I had these made up for you. Three sets of coveralls with appropriate undies."

  Justa sat straighter in surprise. "But... but those are forbidden! I'm in bondage..."

  "Nuts!" The word came out firmly, but in a calm speaking tone. Frenchy looked Justa dead in the face. "Justa, I'm not Galactic. We both know that. Sometimes that makes me more practical than folks out here and certainly more practical than Custom in a few places! You're going to need skin protection when you get down in one of those holes you're going to be digging, miss. You need to use some common sense.

  "You already use weapons, girl. That's just realistic given the circumstances. So are these. Red won't care. Hell, he might just like the fact you're being practical about things! Grae certainly has no problem with the coveralls. I've talked to him about them and he approves."

  Justa thought hard. Grae was still her master, although they both knew it was only temporary and, truthfully, pretty much in name only. Under Custom, the fact that he approved of the coveralls was almost an order to wear the things. Unlike Frenchy, she was experienced on a dig and they did get dirty, messy and hard. Thinking further, she had to admit she wasn't looking forward to mucking around in the dirt in just her skin. No way to wash dirt and dust off easily, not in the Barrens, and she had to admit she wasn't looking forward to the fact. Frenchy had just neatly solved that problem.

  Another thing. Custom was something that ruled the Tribes, but Frenchy didn't let that bother her when she wanted to do something... and Frenchy was highly admired. Besides, she was right when she said weapons were necessary, especially on a trip like Red was planning! What was one more violation of Custom when Frenchy said it was necessary? Simple protection, in fact. It wasn't as though she had to wear the things all the time, after all.

  Justa nodded. "You're right. I'll take them."

  Frenchy handed over the package with a smile.

  #####

  Back in the apartment, Frenchy congratulated herself on a job well done. Oh, giving Justa protection while she was grubbing in the dirt was worthwhile in itself, but that actually wasn't her main reason. In reality, she was striking another small blow at bondage for another Lycanthi woman. Call it a little something she needed to do for herself. Bondage was an accepted fact of life for the Tribes - and she had to admit it wasn't as horrible in reality as she first imagined it to be - but she still didn't like it. It made her feel better to take potshots at an objectionable cultural institution from time to time.

  She didn't even get to sit down before her personal vid-tex signaled she had a caller. Dallas. She was off with Jongular making music and money. Or supposed to be. Now what was up? She transferred the call to the home set. Bigger screen.

  The life sized figure that appeared was shown from the waist up, standing in front of the pickup.

  Yep, Dallas. Nude. Nude?!

  "If that sonofabitch..." she began, then realized Dallas wasn't wearing the name pendant that signified bondage.

  Her best friend gave her a big grin. Dallas knew exactly what Frenchy was thinking and how she'd react to the thought. "Hi, babe," she began in a bouncy tone. "Excuse the dress, or lack of it. I'm finding out that not having to wear clothes all the time is relaxing."

  Frenchy nodded a bit reluctantly at Dallas's holo. She had to admit, once bondage was out of the equation, that Dallas was right. Then she noticed the room behind Dallas. The place screamed "hotel room". Dallas must still be at the Port and still working. "Okay, babe, you just punched a button. Sorry about that. Are you guys still recording?"

  Dallas continued grinning. "And other things."

  A male figure, also bare from the waist up and probably waist down as well, not to mention large, muscular, and with more body hair than suited Frenchy's taste, strolled behind Dallas. Jongular. As he got directly behind her his arm moved and something happened below pickup range. She jumped slightly and yipped in surprise. The grin reappeared. "Oh yeah, babe, and other things."

  Frenchy rolled her eyes. "Babe, you're incorrigible."

  Dallas nodded happily. "Yep."

  Then she got serious, as serious as Dallas ever got when she was in a great mood. "Look, babe, things have gone real well, here. We've just about finished recording and I'm ready to come back for a little visit. Thing is, well... it's kind of complicated. Looks like I actually did catch that big barbarian I was talking about."

  Dallas? And Jongular? Frenchy, not being totally blind and dumb, realized the developing relationship between the unlikely pair. But really? Was the woman serious? That bastard tried to carry her off! Frenchy took another look at her friend's expression and body language. "Babe, are you telling me that you and Jongular..."

  Dallas nodded, this time very seriously. "Um hm. Frenchy, I've found out I really like the big goof. He really likes me, too. Now I know what you meant when you said these guys fall hard and fast when they fall for a gal. Frankly, I like it and I'm happy. Babe, he likes me for who I am - and that's special."

  Another cheeky grin. "Of course, he has the hots for my body, too."

  Dallas got serious again. "I haven't fallen off the deep end yet, Frenchy. We've both agreed to see where this thing leads. There's more than sex here, for the first time in my life. I keep him grounded and don't let him get too full of himself. He gives me something in my life that's not just me or business, something special. In a way, he's kind of helping me get to that next step in maturity, like you did."

  Frenchy got a little misty eyed as she examined her best friend. She knew exactly what Dallas was saying. It was the best thing that coul
d ever happen to a former stripper and what she found with Grae: a guy that loved her for who she was, not what she looked like. She found she had a catch in her throat as she replied, "Looks like you did good, babe. I'm happy for you. Hope it works out."

  Dallas took a deep breath. There was a catch there also. "Oh, DAMN, babe! I wish I was there so I could hug you!"

  Then she continued. "I will be, too. Thing is, I want to take Jongular with me when I come. Can you fix it? I figure everyone will listen if you back us up. Will you do it?"

  Deep breath time for Frenchy. Last time, Jongular got thrown out on his ass because he tried to walk off, literally, with Dallas. Now Dallas - of all people - wanted to bring him back and she, Frenchy, had to fix it so the big egotistical jackass - or maybe not so egotistical, given what Dallas was saying - could return to the Hold. How to do it? Grae would agree with her. She knew that, but she needed more power behind her... big power... utterly irresistible power. The obvious choice presented itself.

  Frenchy finally said, "Okay, babe, I'll give it a shot and I know just who to help me. Call you back in a few hours."

  Frenchy took off to find that aforesaid irresistible power. Grete.

  #####

  For a moment, Dallas regarded the empty space where her best friend's hologram used to be, then gave herself a small shake and decided on a course of action. She turned and headed for the hotel room's balcony.

  Right on her way, seated on a comfortable chair and intently studying something on a small hand held terminal, was Jongular. The sound was shunted to his ear bug, but she knew he was reviewing the latest edit of one of his songs, complete with her dance performance. Underneath that flamboyant persona was a professional as serious about his craft as she was about any project she decided to undertake. That was one of the qualities that made him so attractive to her.

  "Joe," she said as she passed him, "I'm headed out to the balcony for a while. I need a little alone time." Almost immediately, she'd shortened that silly name of his to Joe. Sounded better when she said it and he didn't seem to mind at all. Appeared to like it when she called him that, in fact. Hell, she liked it and thought the name fit.

  As she passed him, he nodded, his attention still on the terminal's screen, but his right hand reached out in a small caress as she passed. She gave his hand a little stroke in return then continued on. That small gesture of affection was also typical of the guy, she'd found. Something else she liked.

  Out on the balcony, she leaned her hands on the railing for a moment and looked out on the city around her. She was still nude, but wasn't worried about showing herself off to the world. The balcony's electronic privacy screen would keep anyone from seeing her, but the truth was her state of nature didn't bother her. She'd always been a lot less shy than Frenchy and, besides, she'd already internalized the fact that nobody out here really cared, especially Lycanth's native inhabitants.

  Dallas plopped herself on one of the balcony's chairs with a smile at that last thought. Frenchy... shy. She knew the girl a whole lot better than anyone else. Back home, nobody expected a stripper to be shy, but Frenchy was and she hid the fact really well. Stripping was done in a controlled environment. So were photography sessions. Movies had more people wandering around, but that was still a tightly controlled environment. Safe, more or less. Dallas decided the difference between Frenchy and herself was that she would peel down on a nude beach and Frenchy wouldn't.

  Or the old Frenchy wouldn't. Probably would now. Frenchy was different these days, way more self-confident, and Dallas liked the difference. The culture of the Tribes was certainly one reason, but the biggest reason was Grae. Frenchy was comfortable with him, secure and happy. Something that girl had never had before.

  Dallas looked at herself with ruthless honesty and decided that secure happiness was something she also wanted. Oh, she and Frenchy were different people and she was more outgoing and cheerful than Frenchy, but she still wanted what her best friend had found. She was a little jealous, in fact.

  That big, ugly, hairy galoot back there in the room was making her feel like she'd found it, for the first time in her life. She knew what she did to men. Did to Joe, in fact. She'd made her living with her looks and body too long for false modesty. But there was more to their relationship. He liked her for her, not how she looked. Grae was that way with Frenchy. Now she had Joe, unlikely as that was.

  There was a lot more to the guy underneath that act of his - and it really was an act. The more she found out what was under the act, the more she liked him. In a way, he was just like her. She wasn't the cheerfully bawdy stripper and skin model she showed the world, not completely, and he wasn't the flamboyant egotistical performer he portrayed in public.

  They both had shells, Dallas decided, but what was underneath those shells was what they really were. The people under those shells were falling in love with each other. That thought gave her a tingle and she really liked it.

  Dallas got out of her chair decisively and headed back inside. She hoped Joe had finished reviewing the video of the song. If not, it was going to be a while before he got back to it.

  #####

  At another somewhat more discreet location in Port Baelth, someone else was far less happy and mellow. Two someone elses in fact. Alesos and Baltan were meeting in a small room in a modest little hotel that catered to merchant spacers. The hotel, located in a less than prosperous area near the spaceport itself, was down at the heels enough for most of the hall surveillance monitors to be unserviceable, a fact Alesos had carefully confirmed prior to the meeting. Both men were alone, minus their usual entourage in order to maintain the lowest possible profile, thus (it was fervently hoped) remain undiscovered by the authorities.

  "That last little job of yours cost me four good men!" Baltan appeared enraged. He wasn't, of course. The man's control was excellent. However, volcanic rage at one's opponent was frequently an effective tactic in negotiations of this sort.

  "Just how good could they be if they let two women - one of them undersized I might add - and some random clown take them?" Alesos could do rage also, although his version was more melodramatic, to include fulsomely expressive hand waving.

  Baltan grunted to show profound frustration. "That clown, as you call him, happens to be someone I recognize. He's Jongular, a musician that's currently popular here."

  Alesos again threw up his hands, declaiming, "Wonderful! A big blonde, an undersized redhead, and a popular entertainer! If all of our problems are of such caliber, obviously our enterprise is doomed!"

  Baltan decided rage wasn't working with someone that could do it just as well as he could. Possibly time to settle down and simply do business. "At any rate, those other men showed up almost immediately out of nowhere," he said calmly, his voice still showing a trace of irritation. "I didn't recognize any of them and that bothers me. I don't like it when an unknown element involves itself in my operations."

  Alesos also settled down now that the preliminaries were over. "Some kind of law enforcement is my guess. Just who they were is the real question, unsolvable for the moment, but to be kept in mind. Those two women proved more formidable than expected and the man - Jongular - was an obvious fluke and busybody. The women, however, were central to that little fiasco and still need to be taken or eliminated at the earliest opportunity. The redhead, especially. I don't care that much about the blonde. The redhead has seen me clearly enough to identify and that makes her dangerous. I'll pay double for her capture or evidence of her terminal removal."

  Baltan grunted again, this time with some degree of approval. He planned to take both women eventually – nobody escaped him - and extra payment for the redhead was icing on the cake. "I still have capture teams out in the Barrens. Before I put teams out here in the Port, however, we need to discover just who those unknown men were."

  "Concur," Alesos said curtly. He forbore to mention that his own capture teams were working in the Federation, but he hadn't had any contact with a lar
ge and continually growing majority of them lately. He darkly suspected the Arm was the reason. He decided that concentrating here on Lycanth was probably safer, lest the Arm start working its way upwards in his eventual direction. Taking women was semi legal here, at any rate.

  However, there was a possible complicating factor on Lycanth besides the still unknown law enforcement organization. Alesos decided Baltan needed to be aware of it. "I agree that operating in the Barrens is safer, but there is something else of which you need to be aware. One of my moles in the organization of a business associate of mine has reported that the aforesaid business associate is taking some independent action of his own. My mole couldn't find out details, only that he was planning to put his people here, probably in the Barrens. You will have competition."

  "I've always had competition," Baltan growled disdainfully. "That's never hampered me. If I run across competition, I eliminate it."

  Alesos nodded in satisfied agreement. The entire project was now in Baltan's oversized hands. Let him take the risk while he, Alesos, took the profit. Whatever Barto-Colones was up to, it was Baltan's problem, not his. Time to leave - and without telling this fool.

  Alesos shortly arrived in his new working headquarters, a small bulding located in the seedy part of the Port and unknown to Baltan. The original upscale office was no longer safe after the problem that had occurred when Baltan's men tried to snatch the big blonde and the little redhead. Given said problem, he'd immediately relocated to a far less obvious address, leaving what he termed a "disposable drone", A.K.A. one of his less valuable staff, in place to maintain contact with Baltan and act as a target if/when needed.