FRENCHY II : Having a Blast

by George Olney

  Once inside, Alesos began pacing the office and holding forth in his usual melodramatic fashion to Boraz. "Things," broad wave of a hand, "have not gone as should be reasonably expected when we relocated to this garden spot of the universe."

  Boraz was following the boss's monolog, albeit with some difficulty. He wasn't really sure that Lycanth could be termed a garden spot. No flowers worth talking about outside the Port. However, he figured if he shut up something that made sense would be said, sooner or later.

  Alesos stopped abruptly, right hand with index finger in the air to indicate a key point. "We - and I refer to my organization as we, for obvious reasons - have failed to gain the expected return from direct involvement with our supplier. There are better uses for my executive ability than dealing on a first person basis with the lower echelons of our procurement structure.

  "Yes!" The word was loudly proclaimed, accompanied by an expansive gesture. "True management genius such as mine requires scope in which to work!"

  Boraz's brow wrinkled in thought. "You sayin' we need to get out of here, Boss?"

  Alesos was feeling amiable. For him. "Crudely stated, numbskull, but essentially correct! Relocation is an appropriate action for the moment, the result of my clear headed analysis of the situation. More distance from the scene of the action and more scope for my view of the Big Picture is what's necessary!"

  He spun on his heel and headed for the building's front door. "Wait here, blockhead. I need room in which to meditate. I'll be strolling the outer walkway if needed and will return when I've conceived our next action."

  As Alesos marched to, and through, the automatically opening door, he was unaware of the two uniformed members of the Port Police that happened to be passing on one of their regular rounds. He marched decisively through the office door onto the sidewalk, head high in the manner of a True Executive, immediately caught sight of the two cops, smoothly turned one hundred and eighty degrees, and marched decisively - head high in the manner of a True Executive - back into the office. "I've decided you and I will terminate our visit to Lycanth immediately."

  He activated the office holo-vid and brought up a star map of the local area. His eye, carefully studying the map, finally settled on a slightly isolated star system that had the definite benefit of still being within a reasonable distance of Lycanth. He didn't want to get too far away. He tapped the star's image to bring up information then checked the terminal's planetary atlas. Stepping back, he pointed dramatically at the star's image. "That one! You and I will be heading there!"

  Boraz was still playing catch-up. "Hide out there until the heat's off?"

  Alesos favored his assistant with a look of minor disgust. "Inelegantly stated, but apt. Arrange for passage as soon as possible."

  "Uh, where are we going, Boss?"

  The disgusted expression on Alesos's face grew broader, but he had to allow for the reasonableness of the request. Boraz wasn't in a position to read the fine details of the holo, after all. He took another close look at the map. "Setton's World. It appears a nice untouched spot a bit below the usual level of civilization. We should do quite well there for a while."

  Alesos sat down and pondered his decision for a few moments, thinking about any loose ends that would need tidying up, then decided any further action was unnecessary. He was going to quietly abandon this office. The drone in his original office would be given an anonymous mailbox to contact if needed - or if that muscle bound idiot Baltan produced some stock. The mailbox would be easy enough to check on a periodic basis and easier to avoid if it appeared someone was watching it. That would be enough of a cut-out to keep himself safe from that direction.

  Then his thoughts turned to Barto-Colones. If his informant was correct, the man was trying to create a separate operation of his own on Lycanth. Alesos didn't care for competition, or for partners that stepped out of their assigned role while attempting to conceal such steps. Partners of that nature were highly unreliable and possibly a danger. It was beginning to look like it was time to dissolve the partnership; something he always knew was going to happen, sooner or later. The money that made Barto-Colones valuable to his organization was no longer essential since circumstances (namely the Arm) had produced severe cutbacks in the size of said organization. To be blunt, he had enough money until some other fat cat provider could be found.

  Meanwhile, his first priority was removing himself from the immediate vicinity of various police agencies, especially the Arm. Once away from official attention, he would have the leisure to devote to removing Barto-Colones from everyone's attention. Only the method was yet to be decided. Such things, to be done properly, required sophistication, art, and the application of his superb intellect.

  Just how to artfully eliminate Barto-Colones? That was something to pleasantly ponder for a while.

  #####

  By the merest chance, Barto-Dias-Colones was pondering Alesos at the moment. He was alone in his luxurious office, contemplating the distasteful subject of Alesos along with the far more pleasant subjects of wealth, power, and how he was about to radically change the business of female slavery. Dealing with Alesos was a major irritant, not to mention dangerous, as their last meeting had proved. Such thugs were a necessary evil when involved in female slavery, but one better done without. However, running a slaving operation himself was both time consuming and not at all to his taste. He didn't like direct involvement. It was simpler and a far better use of his time to merely provide the money for slave catching and distribution then let others do the work and take the risk. That made Alesos necessary, at least until the Lycanth operation was producing.

  Another complicating factor was the fact that Alesos's organization was running the Jona-Savonia operation. Alesos needed to be kept alive until the boy could be delivered to Seeway for training.

  Barto-Colones smiled. He was going to be much, much more powerful once he assumed control of the Jona-Savonia corporate interests through the boy, or by way of lawyers if the brat needed to vanish. He wanted, lusted after, the power and long term wealth those interests represented. That power and long term wealth would take him to a whole new level - the top level - among the galaxy's elite. The thought gave him a small thrill.

  But he couldn't leave any possibly embarrassing loose ends. Alesos needed to be eliminated, but not yet. Not until the boy was under his control and the Lycanth operation was producing. Definitely not until plausible deniability existed for whatever happened during and after the hit. He was going to have to create multiple levels of cutouts so nobody could ever trace Alesos's death to him.

  Meanwhile, he would increase his personal income in the short term from another project, changing female slavery and increasing the profit to be made from it. The vastly increased profit was why he was starting his own operation on Lycanth, despite being adverse to direct involvement. The planet provided enough area to satisfactorily hide his own facilities, at least the test facility he'd ordered. He was a rich man, but if that test facility proved as successful as he hoped, he was going to become far richer.

  The old method of snatching grown women singly was inherently inefficient, no matter how profitable. Far better, he thought, to sweep up a younger product and grow a whole crop of submissive women. Trained properly and sold at premium prices, the income would triple the take from the old method. He already had the people to train the women, imported from his small private facility on Seeway. It was simply a matter of building the Lycanth establishment and gathering his first livestock. It would only take a few years after that before that first crop was ready for sale and more would be behind them on a regular basis. Farming was always more efficient and profitable than hunting.

  Besides, a long term project was more appealing to a strategic thinker such as himself.

  #####

  Barto-Colones's project was already beginning operation. Robotic remotes had completed construction of a test compound, the first of hopefully several to be secretly located on Lycan
th. There was a lot of empty area on the planet where nobody ever went, so plenty of room existed for more facilities once they were needed. Besides, the planet was still barbarian. Or so the project planning staff thought. On the other hand, the planning staff didn't take all that much time to familiarize themselves with the local culture.

  The compound resembled a cross between a small community college and a prison camp, with walkways and low single story buildings, all above ground and electronically screened from anything overhead that might detect them. Additional screens blocked any outgoing signals except those of the staff. There were electrically charged perimeter fences that kept anyone except approved personnel from entering and leaving at ground level. Almost the only way in or out was from the air, with the sole exception of a gate intended to allow ground carryalls to enter or leave on capture missions. Electronic surveillance covered every inch of the exterior and interior of the compound, constantly monitored by a room in the command building that also housed the compound personnel. The planning staff thought those arrangements were quite sufficient to hold teenage girls any desired length of time, at least until they were properly trained and old enough to sell. Any one of the proposed teenage girl inmates could have told them about the structural problems of the compound, but the staff wasn't about to do anything so silly as to solicit the opinion of a teenage girl.

  Basically, the previously described arrangements proved that the planning staff hadn't done its homework, at least so far as the people from which the teenage girls came.

  Sarena was fifteen and considered herself to be quite an attractive young lady. In fact, she knew quite well that she was hot, thank you. At the moment, she didn't feel that way. In fact, she was downright scared and wished she was back in the War Eagle Freehold with, of all people, her parents and that miserable pest of a younger brother of hers.

  All she was doing was hunting dufflegrouse with Callie and Yasmin a couple of miles from the Hold when some men in tan coveralls and body armor rose up from behind nearby rocks and pointed bolt guns at her. She knew what a B-42 assault gun looked like and that was what the men were pointing. The spring rifle in her hands wasn't even in the same league. She still might have shot one, but the guy in the middle spoke up. "Drop 'em and hands behind your heads. First move and we'll kill you. There are three of you, so we can afford to kill the first one that tries something."

  His next instruction was horrendous. "Each of you throw your vid-tex on the ground with the guns."

  How could they! The vid-tex was a central - essential - part of any teenage girl's life! However... She took another look at the men and the guns then complied. After that, they were herded into a ground carryall and the vehicle smoothly started up, going somewhere.

  After arriving in some kind of compound full of buildings, she and the other two were put into a big holding facility with bunks, sanitary facilities, and blank walls. They were there for what seemed like forever, but Sarena thought it was only a couple of days if, as she figured, they were fed twice a day. It was certainly long enough for other girls about their age to join them from time to time. The girls were from tribes all over this part of Lycanth and had pretty much the same tale to tell. Strange men, guns, and capture for no apparent reason. This... thing... was getting really scary.

  Finally, the heavy door to the room opened and yelling men with guns were herding Sarena and the nine girls with her out onto a paved walkway between buildings. Hopefully, she was going to find out what this business was all about.

  Like the others, she glanced up at the sky and at the way the buildings were all built completely above ground. With windows, of all things! She wasn't really bothered since it was daytime, but nobody with any common sense would put up a building with windows outside of the Port.

  Sarena and her group of ten were taken to a big room in another building that shocked her when she saw it. For all the world, it looked like her school auditorium with rows of seats and a stage in front! She and the others found seats while their guards stationed themselves along the walls. Other groups of girls joined them, all of them tribal and all about Sarena's age or younger. Sarena had plenty of dark suspicions about what was happening, but she wasn't sure. Whatever it was, she felt the situation didn't look good.

  Her feeling was proved right.

  Low chatter among the girls stopped when a tall, striking, black haired woman walked out into the middle of the stage. She was beautiful in a hard icy way and dressed in a black skintight one piece garment that would have been called a "cat suit" on Frenchy's world. A line of other women in the same tan uniform as the guards - and as tough looking - filed out behind her and took up positions on the back of the stage. All of them, to include the one in black, were holding thick rods about two feet long. She looked out at the seated teenagers with an intimidating smile that held absolutely no humor. "Welcome to The School," she said in a voice that was musical but still sounded hard and dangerous. "Here is where you will be living and studying until it is time to send you on. There will be classes, and anyone that falls behind her peers will be encouraged to study harder. That is all you need to know on that subject.

  "I am Commandant Plas-Cynth-Bomar. You will address me at all times as 'Madam'. My school staff is behind me, and you will also address them the same way. You have no need to know or speak to the men who are your guards. Your classes will begin tomorrow. Meanwhile, you will be given dormitory assignments and a map of the campus buildings you will be allowed to enter while you are here. You will be allowed to enter a building only if you have an approved reason to do so. Your school uniforms and class materials are in those boxes along the wall. Pick them up when you are told and take them with you to your dormitory.

  "Do not go anywhere you are not told to go. Punishment waits for any of you that are found even close to buildings forbidden to you. Punishment waits for any of you that even seem like you are disobeying an instruction given to you by my staff or a guard. You will speak in our presence only when spoken to. Sexual advantage will not be taken of you while you are at The School and anyone not reporting any such occurrence will be punished along with whoever takes such advantage.

  "This is the only familiarization you will be given, so listen closely.

  "First..." The woman's smile became wider and even more unpleasant. "You," she said, pointing at Sarena.

  Then she continued pointing. "You. You. You. All of you four up here in front of me."

  The girls, the oldest ones in the room, got up and stood where they were told. Plas-Bomar left the stage, walked over, and looked at them like they were herd animals in a pen. Then, without warning, she jabbed Sarena in the stomach with her rod. An explosion of pain from a shock charge blasted through the girl's middle, too sudden and hard for her to even make a noise. Leaving Sarena doubled over, Plas-Bomar quickly walked down the line of girls, jabbing each one with short rapid strokes. One of the girls collapsed on the floor. Gasps and squeals filled the room.

  Through her pain, Sarena tried to stand straight, do something, hit back, but Plas-Bomar was there with her shock stick. If she did anything, she'd get hit again.

  Plas-Bomar surveyed the rest of the room and everyone got very quiet at that look. "That was an example. There will be more if we feel like you need it. It won't bother me in the least if you do. A shock stick leaves no permanent damage.

  "Now," Plas-Bomar continued, "you three standing, get to your seats."

  Sarena, forced herself to stand straighter and stagger back to the seats, weeping in pain. One of the girls got up and moved to another place, leaving her aisle chair for Sarena to collapse into while Plas-Bomar looked on in grim satisfaction.

  She gestured to two of the male guards. "One of you, pick up the bitch on the floor when I turn this group loose and carry her to dorm room B-10. The other take her box. Throw her in a bunk and let her sleep it off.

  "The rest of you, if you make any noise or speak when you aren't told to speak, I'll administer anothe
r dose. My prod was set at medium level. We will increase the charge if we feel you need it. This was just a warning and an example. Pay attention to everything my staff and I say."

  After a moment to let the lesson sink in, Plas-Bomar said, "Every part - every part - of the campus is monitored. We will hear anything you say and take action if we think it is needed. Feel free to try something. We will leave no mark or permanent damage when you do. We want you in good condition for the future, but you will learn obedience to our commands.

  "Once we finish with you," she continued with a frightening smile, "you will all be compliant enough to do anything, anything at all, you are told to do by anyone in authority over you. Accept that. Make it your goal. If you fight us, you will lose and we will enjoy the contest. You won't.

  "Now pick up your boxes and go to your dormitory rooms."

  Once she'd painfully lifted her box, gritted her teeth, and staggered, finally, to her dorm room, Sarena collapsed on a bunk. The pain was subsiding and her mind began to work out the situation. Like every other tribal girl, she came from what was actually a very sophisticated and educated background, very aware of Galactic society. It came down to one thing. These people were slavers and she and the rest were going to be trained to be good slaves. But no rape. Virgins, educated virgins, were a high value commodity to slavers.

  But there was something that scary vicious woman and her thugs didn't know. She and the rest had Cause due to the way they'd been treated. The people running this prison - and prison it was - hadn't followed Custom that would let them safely sell her to a Galactic. She and the rest of the girls could kill to obtain their freedom. She'd never killed a person, but she felt she was just about ready to do it, even if they were scary and well-armed. She just didn't know how or when she'd get the chance.